The Black Widow

by Lisette Ashton

  ‘You deserve it,’ Jo growled breathlessly.

  Sam traced her tongue against the pulsing heat of Jo’s clitoris. She played the tip against the sensitive nub in a staccato dance, kissing the lips of Jo’s sex with passionate intimacy. ‘I suppose I deserve to be spanked as well.’

  Jo heard herself groaning as she drew breath. She tried to ignore Sam’s suggestion, made uncomfortable and excited by the image in the same moment. The sound of her cry seemed to come from miles away and, distantly, Jo realised she was caught in the throes of a sudden, stunning orgasm. The tip of Sam’s tongue was fuelling a fire in her clitoris that quickly seared its way through her entire body. Every nerve was taut with a burning frenzy of euphoria. A tumultuous explosion of pleasure pulsed through her veins and she shrieked as her body achieved its climax.

  Staggering with the aftermath, Jo stared down at Sam, her features etched with a mixture of gratitude and anticipation.

  ‘You screamed,’ Sam observed, a wry smile teasing her lips. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  Jo chuckled, leant forward, and dragged Sam from the floor. Wrapping her arms tightly round the redhead, she kissed her. With their mouths joined together, Jo could taste the remnants of her own pussy honey glazing Sam’s lips. The subtle flavour of her excitement added an infuriating degree of eroticism. As they kissed, Jo ground her thighs together in a dry simulation of her body’s desire. Her hands traversed Sam’s scantily clad contours, cupping her small breasts and teasing the taut nubs of her nipples. Before the intense pleasure proved too much for either of them, Jo moved her hands down. After exploring Sam’s narrow waist, she allowed her fingers to stroke the smooth flesh of her hips. The urge to have and possess her was so powerful she could not resist it.

  Breathing heavily, Jo swept Sam from her feet and carried her to the desk in the middle of the room. Their mouths were still joined and she was able to see the redhead’s eyes open wide with surprise when the carpet was pulled from beneath her. Jo pushed her on to the desk.

  The hint of a warning flared in Sam’s eyes and Jo sensed she was about to deliver some pious reminder about Doctor McMahon’s advice. Unwilling to have the mood broken, Jo pressed her mouth harder against Sam, kissing her with a ferocious passion.

  When she eventually broke the kiss, Sam started up at her, wordless excitement shining behind her wire-rimmed spectacles.

  Jo grinned down. Her hands were moving over the redhead’s legs with rough, demanding caresses. She moved her fingers over Sam’s inner thighs, pausing only to trace the line of her garter. Then her hands were moving to the French knickers, the tips of her fingers sliding beneath the loose fabric at the legs.

  Sam gasped. ‘I’m not sure we have this much time,’ she whispered.

  ‘We’ll make time,’ Jo assured her. Her index finger had reached Sam’s warm, velvety wetness and she blindly stroked the slick flesh.

  Unconsciously, Sam bucked her hips as her body responded to the touch.

  Jo tugged the French knickers away from her in one graceful motion, tossing them to the corner of the room. The sight of Sam’s pubic bush always excited her. There was something exquisite about the swatch of fiery red curls surrounding her labia. The vibrant colour seemed to capture the heat of the redhead’s passion. Unable to resist the temptation, Jo knelt down and lowered her lips to Sam’s pussy.

  As her tongue trailed against the glistening flesh, Jo inhaled the musky fragrance of Sam’s scent. Lapping at the sweet honey, she savoured the intimate flavour before swallowing avariciously.

  With mounting excitement, Sam groaned and writhed from side to side on the desk.

  Jo moved her mouth away and turned the redhead over. Sam moved easily into the position, as though she had already guessed what Jo intended. Instead of lying with her back on the desk, she was now spread over it, feet buried in the carpet, stomach and breasts pressed firmly on to the surface.

  Jo pushed her nose between Sam’s legs and nuzzled gently. Her tongue slipped into the velvety depths and she lapped greedily. Using her fingers to tease Sam’s sex wide apart, she forced her tongue further into the warm, musky cleft. She stroked the side of her thumb over the tingling nub of the redhead’s clitoris, inspiring a guttural groan.

  Gently, still licking as she did it, Jo eased two fingers into the wet hole. Sam’s arousal was so great they slid easily inside. Jo could feel the tingling inner walls of the woman’s pussy clenching hungrily around her. Eagerly, she pushed the fingers deeper. As her tongue moved over the tip of the clitoris, Jo noticed that her thumb was brushing against the tiny circle of Sam’s anus. She did not even contemplate pushing her thumb inside, she simply did it.

  Sam screamed at the unexpected intrusion. Every muscle in her body was furiously taut as she released sound. As Jo pushed the thumb deep into the forbidden depths of Sam’s arse, she felt the inner muscles contracting repeatedly. It was disturbingly arousing sensation. She could feel her own fingers brushing her thumb through the thin lining of Sam’s heated channels.

  When the orgasm struck, Sam clenched hard against the intruding fingers.

  Jo’s knuckles were forced uncomfortably together and almost pushed from their tight confines by the shivering muscles.

  Sam’s scream began to taper off, only to be renewed when Jo slid her fingers deeper inside. She continued to work her tongue on the pulsing tip of Sam’s clitoris, greedily drinking the spray that erupted from her second climax. Beads of sweat glistened on Sam’s forehead and her lips were curled into an animal grimace of passion.

  ‘Too much,’ Sam whispered, easing herself away. There was a reluctant smile on her lips when she turned to face Jo. ‘Far too much,’ she said, leaning forward to kiss her.

  Before their lips could meet, a small beeping sound from Sam’s wristwatch broke the mood. ‘Blast,’ Sam said, glancing at her watch and turning off the alarm. ‘It’s almost eleven. Perhaps we can finish this later.’ She reached for her discarded clothes and began to toss Jo’s garments towards her. ‘We have an eleven o’clock coming in two minutes.’

  Stepping back into her suit, Jo watched Sam dressing. The embers of her satiated arousal glowed dully. ‘I’m still pissed at you,’ Jo said calmly. ‘You’ve moved the offices and changed the company name. Do we still do investigation work, or has that changed too?’

  Sam opened her mouth as though she were about to reply, then shook her head. ‘I have been doing a bit of research into areas where we could diversify,’ she said quickly, ‘but we’ll discuss those later.’

  Jo rolled her eyes and squeezed her fists into tight balls. It was not the first time she had thought of punching Sam. She did not think she would have actually done it even if they had not been disturbed, but it was still an attractive idea.

  ‘Flowers and Valentine?’ the woman asked, pushing her head around the door as she knocked.

  ‘Valentine and Flowers.’ Jo scowled at Sam, who looked set to correct her, then turned her attention back to the woman. ‘That’s us. You must be our eleven o’clock.’

  ‘Mrs Meadows,’ Sam said, stepping forward and extending a hand. ‘We spoke on the phone. I’m Samantha Flowers and this is my partner, Jo Valentine.’

  Taking the hand, Mrs Meadows smiled politely. ‘Call me Faye.’

  Jo watched as Sam ushered the woman into a chair and then sat behind the desk on which they had just been fucking. With a frown of annoyance, she realised she was virtually redundant in what was supposed to be her own office.

  ‘You’ll have to forgive our chaotic appearance,’ Sam told Mrs Meadows, gesturing at the uncluttered room around them. We’ve only just moved in this morning and we’re still trying to get everything in order.’

  ‘Will you be able to take on my case?’ Mrs Meadows asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Sam enthused.

  ‘That depends what it is,’ Jo said, fixing Sam with a menacing glare. She stepped behind Sam’s desk and sat casually on the surface, smiling tightly at the client.

  Fa
ye Meadows was tall and blonde. There was an expression of cool confidence on her thin face that gave her an authoritarian appearance. Yet, in spite of her smile, her ice-blue eyes were hard and uncompromising. She wore a light grey trenchcoat that had the patently unflattering look of expensive designer-wear. Her diamond engagement ring was large, and, coupled with her recent, professional manicure, it indicated that she was more than a little affluent.

  After a cursory glance at Poplar Trees, Jo had already decided that she needed to increase her fees to meet the overheads. Faye Meadows looked like a woman who could help with that problem. But, as always, Jo was being cautious. ‘What is it you want, Mrs Meadows?’ she asked calmly.

  ‘Faye,’ the woman corrected. She reached into the pocket of her coat and produced a small, brightly coloured brochure. She placed it on Sam’s desk, then reached back into her pocket and retrieved a small piece of cut plastic. It was the size and shape of a credit card.

  Glancing at the brochure, Jo saw the words WELCOME TO ELYSIAN FIELDS in ornate script across the top of the front cover. Silently, she turned her questioning gaze to the client.

  ‘I received this in my post yesterday morning,’ Faye explained, holding up the credit-card-shaped piece of plastic. ‘It’s an invitation to spend a fortnight here.’ With the tip of her elegantly manicured fingernail, she pointed at the brochure.

  Jo reached for the booklet, intending to flick through it. Before she could catch hold, Sam had snatched it from the desk and was leafing idly through the pages. As though she was accepting a consolation prize, Jo picked up the invitation. It was a slim piece of bright-red plastic embossed with gold lettering. ‘Elysian Fields’ was printed on one side. On the other, Faye Meadows’ name was written, along with the offer of a fortnight’s stay at the premises. Jo glanced at the printed date and realised the break was scheduled to commence the following day.

  ‘Was there anything else sent with this?’ she asked.

  Faye shook her head.

  Jo shrugged. ‘Well, it’s a little intriguing,’ she started. ‘But I’m still unsure as to how we can help. If you’ve got a problem with junk mail then the post office is probably your best bet.’

  Faye flexed a tight grin across her thin features, treating Jo to an expression of rueful disdain. ‘I don’t have a problem with junk mail,’ she explained patiently. ‘And if I were any other woman in the world, I would be delighted to receive a fortnight’s free treatment at Elysian Fields. The cost of such a stay is painfully substantial.’

  ‘Then what makes you so special?’ Jo asked.

  Faye looked as though she was about to say something. Before she could speak, Sam had interrupted her.

  ‘Are you the same Mrs Meadows who owns Elysian Fields?’ she asked, glancing up from the brochure.

  Silently, Faye nodded.

  Jo glared down at Sam.

  ‘That doesn’t make sense,’ Sam said, ignoring Jo’s dour expression. ‘Why would someone send you an invitation to your own health farm?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like you to tell me,’ Faye said simply. ‘If it’s a managerial cock-up, then I want to know how it happened and who’s responsible. If it’s someone’s idea of a joke, then I want to find out who sent it, and why they think it’s funny.’

  Jo frowned, uncomfortable with an idea that had just occurred to her. She was about to ask a question, wanting to know why the woman did not simply telephone the health farm and find out what was happening for herself. Before she could give voice to her query, Sam broke in.

  ‘This is a tariff of our fees,’ she said, passing an A5 sheet of paper across the desk. ‘Those prices don’t include expenses, all of which will be confirmed in your final account.’

  Faye thanked her, placed her hands on the arms of the chair and looked set to leave the office.

  ‘Hold on a second,’ Jo said suddenly.’ ‘I’m not sure that we’ll be able to throw much more light on this case than Mrs Meadows could manage herself.’

  ‘I appreciate you doing this for me.’ Faye interrupted calmly. ‘I do have other businesses to attend to. I have two nightclubs in the town centre and a string of other interests. While the idea of a fortnight at Elysian Fields appeals to me, I can’t afford to take the time off from my other commitments. Besides, I’m not sure that the invitation would be honoured. I’ve never seen one like it before.

  ‘You own a health farm and a couple of nightclubs?’ Jo remarked, raising her eyebrows. ‘Isn’t that taking diversity to an extreme?’

  ‘I’m an entrepreneur, not a specialist,’ Faye replied, not meeting Jo’s gaze.

  Jo studied her suspiciously, positive that she was being lied to, and wishing she knew why. Her gut feeling to turn this case down was overwhelming. There was something dangerous about the whole situation and she did not trust it at all. Instinctively, Jo realised it would be wisest to let Mrs Meadows take her business elsewhere.

  ‘We’ll give you our report in seven days’ time,’ Sam said, standing up and offering Faye Meadows her hand. ‘If we have any important progress prior to that, we’ll call you and let you know what’s happening.’

  Jo stared at her partner, unable to believe she had just accepted the case without asking her advice. She struggled to find words that would take back what Sam had just said, but, as each moment passed, she realised the opportunity was getting further and further away. By the time she had thought of something appropriate to say, Faye Meadows had already left the office, leaving Sam and Jo alone.

  ‘I can’t believe you just accepted that case,’ Jo said, shaking her hand incredulously.

  ‘I can’t believe we were so lucky as to get it,’ Sam countered. ‘It’s like a lottery win, or divine intervention or something. Here you are, in desperate need of a stay at a health farm, and what lands in your lap but an invitation to this place.’ She wafted the brochure in front of Jo’s nose, smiling giddily up at her.

  Jo shook her head. ‘There is no way that I’m going to visit that place,’ she said, not disguising the note of disgust that crept into her voice. ‘I didn’t want to accept the case if we’re being totally honest. And I’ll be damned if I do a job that I didn’t want to take.’

  Sam grinned and stroked Jo’s arm with intimate affection. ‘Come on, darling,’ she whispered. ‘You need the break and we both know it’ll do you some good.’

  Jo shook her head. ‘There’s no way I’m going to that health farm, and nothing you can do or say will get me there.’

  As soon as Sam kissed her, Jo could feel her resolve weakening.

  Three

  Arthur knight stared out through the Venetian blinds, two fat fingers twisted between the slats at eye level, so he could view the car park discreetly. The shafts of sunlight that fell into his office were pale blue, and filled with the eddies of swirling smoke.

  ‘There must be a lot of money in private-investigation work,’ Arthur observed, squinting out into the morning light. ‘Have you seen the fiery red sports car that the Flowers woman is driving? They cost a chuffing fortune and she’s barely old enough to chuffing drive it.’ There was the distant lilt of a Yorkshire accent in his voice which always became more pronounced when he was excited or in a hurry to express himself. The accent had been thickening all morning as he watched the Poplar Trees’ newest tenants arriving.

  In the silence that followed, Poppy knew better than to stay anything. With her long, mousy-brown hair, willowy figure and unspectacular choice of clothes, she seemed to blend into the smoky shadows of the dimly lit office. She stayed silent, wondering how Arthur Knight was going to respond to the request she had made.

  She wished she had been able to make the request to his brother, Derek. Derek was just as brusque and intimidating, but Poppy had seen him smiling slyly at her from time to time. She suspected that Derek had a secret desire for her and she would have been happy to exploit that if it could have helped her. But Derek was not in the office this morning and she had been left with no option other
than to ask Arthur.

  ‘That Valentine woman doesn’t seem to be doing as well as her boss,’ Arthur noted. He pushed his face against the blinds, trying to determine the make and model of the dirty, rust-eaten car Jo had been driving. ‘What is that? A Ford Shitheap or a Renault Crock?’

  Poppy remained silent, studying her hands as they played nervously in her lap.

  Arthur closed the Venetian blinds and turned to face her. ‘I can’t believe you’re asking me for time off.’ He dropped heavily into his seat at the head of the conference table. ‘More than anyone else, you should know how busy we are around here at the moment.’

  Poppy shook her head, loathing her own servility but unable to think of any other way to act. ‘I suppose it is wrong of me to ask.’ She risked a nervous glance at him. ‘But I haven’t had any leave for the past two years, and yesterday morning –’

  ‘You haven’t had any leave since you worked so bloody ineptly on the Meadows case, have you?’ he broke in.

  Poppy glared at the conference table, wishing he was not constantly reminding her of that one mistake. Admittedly it had been a large mistake, ruinous for their client, and potentially crippling for Knight & Knight solicitors. The threat of compensatory litigation had hung over the company like the sword of Damocles. There was still the danger of the ruined client making a successful compensation claim, but, as each day passed, the chances diminished.

  ‘It was just before I started working on the Meadows case when I took my last holiday,’ Poppy confirmed.

  Arthur Knight sat back in his chair, shaking his head thoughtfully from side to side. He placed the tips of his sausage-like fingers together and began to gently squeeze them as he spoke. ‘Your cock-up on that case damned nearly ruined this company,’ he reminded her.

  Poppy glared unhappily at the table, knowing that he was exaggerating but not daring to point that out. Her cock-up had been an embarrassment but it had not caused ruination. ‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘And I really am sorry,’ she added, for what felt like the millionth time.