"Not the most interesting of tales." Candace muttered.
"Sorry to disappoint you Candy Cane," Todd drunk deeply from his glass. He was surprised to see they had finished the third bottle of wine already.
"Maybe you could earn the nick name you were given." Candace sat up and looked Todd in the eye.
"We work together, I'm your boss," Todd's voice was gruff as his body belied his words.
"I think Todger says different." Candace opined, "Come on Todd, no strings, let's just have some fun." Candace said and reached down to take hold of her top. She slowly drew it up over her body revealing a tight stomach and round breasts cupped in a black lace bra. Pulling the top off over her head, Candace moved her legs so she straddled Todd on his armchair. She took the wine glass from his hand and reached behind her to place it on the table.
Todd was caught between disagreement and desire; he knew that sleeping with Candace could cause him a whole heap of trouble and he didn't particularly fancy her. The last thing he needed at work was a lovesick Sergeant fawning over him. On the other hand, it had been a few years since he had felt the touch of a woman, smelt the sweetness of femininity and moved in rhythm with a warm pulsating body. Candace released her breasts from their lacy prison and the pink nipples which protruded like cigarette butts from her chest, were begging to be tweaked. Todd found his body responding to the delights in front of him and he reached out a hand to pull on the nipple.
Candace gasped in surprise at his touch then leant in open-mouthed to Todd's face. Todd opened his own mouth and both explored each other with their tongues. Candace occasionally stopped to nip at Todd's lips with her small white teeth, each nip causing a hot sensation down in the depths of Todd's gut, his penis growing harder with each bite. Todd kneaded Candace's breasts with both hands as they kissed and Candace moved her own hands to Todd's trousers. She opened his fly very quickly, releasing his bulging penis with her hands.
Candace broke away from Todd's kiss and moved herself off his lap, putting her lips to the top of Todd's penis. "Hello Todger," she breathed before sliding the tip of her tongue around his helmet. He thought he may come just at the deliciousness of that first touch and tried to think of steak and mushrooms as Candace's tongue began to explore his penis and scrotum. She expertly flicked her tongue all over his most sensitive parts before finally shrouding his helmet with her hot mouth. She grabbed his bollocks and sucked at Todd's cock, ticking the skin at the bottom of the shaft. Todd couldn't hold back any longer and came in a hot pumping frenzy; Candace moved her head very quickly away, avoiding Todd's seed.
"I'm so sorry," Todd began, embarrassed at his premature excitement. Candace wiped her mouth of Todd's trouser leg.
"Hey, no problem," she said huskily, "That was just for starters." She stood up and removed the rest of her clothing before climbing back onto Todd's lap, his penis once again rigid.
"You're a naughty girl Candy Cane," Todd chuckled.
"And you're a bad, bad boy," she agreed as she allowed Todd to enter her, sliding herself down hard onto his lap.
Not quite the night in I had expected, Todd thought, "But good," he voiced as Candace continued to ride him. "Very, very good."
Chapter Thirteen
Danny 'Zucko' Bradford was an escort. Having been brought up by parents who were happy to live, no, exist, on the State; living week to week on hand outs which just about covered their nicotine and alcohol addiction. Danny had decided to break free from that miserable existence. He wanted more from his life; unfortunately wanting more was not enough to get him more.
Danny had never been a regular attendee of school, his parents were not enthusiastic about education; reminding him after every bad school report that he didn't need qualifications to claim the dole.
"Let the other mugs work son," his father would say, "I'm no Muppet: I've got a house rent free, a free car on account of my dodgy back, booze, fags and Jeremy Kyle; who could want for more?"
"Me," thought Danny. He wanted to see outside Elisworth, wanted to experience a holiday which wasn't obtained by cutting coupons out of the national newspaper. Danny wanted to wear clothes made by men with tape measures around their necks instead of by six year old children in China. Danny didn't want the strongest, cheapest lager; he wanted the finest, most expensive champagne. He wanted a Porsche, not a pushbike; he wanted to be free of the doldrums of Elisworth and living in a penthouse in Chelsea.
Danny had left school to seek his fortune. He soon realised the only avenue open to him was on the dark side of living. No education and the wrong postcode made it impossible for Danny to even get an interview for a job, when he was number twenty two out of the four hundred people who applied for any job he went for. It wasn't long before Danny turned to crime, but he was taught very quickly that crime was just as difficult in some respects.
To be a successful criminal one had to be not caught. A certain level of intelligence was required and after Danny's third attempt at earning a nefarious living, had ended up once again barely escaping arrest, he decided to try his luck elsewhere.
The one endeavour Danny had always been successful with, was women. With jet black hair and piercing blue eyes, a cleft chin and lean chiselled looks, Danny had never failed to have a girl on his arm. He was often compared to Elvis and his namesake, Danny Zucko; girls would give him their numbers and fanny was pretty much on tap where Danny was concerned. A flippant comment from one of his conquests one night, made Danny realise that his future lay in his looks.
Danny signed up with a local gangster named Jack 'the ripper' Jackson; who ran an Escort Agency, among his other more sinister exploits and he became their most asked for Escort.
Danny now had the Porsche, the pent house and the panoply of clothing he had always dreamt of. The only downside to Danny's job were the constant trips to the STD Clinic and a niggling feeling of dirtiness. This was always successfully washed away with a large glass of Crystal and a swift snort of cocaine.
The thing which made Danny so successful was his willingness to take on any job. Fat, thin, tall, short, dirty, clean, male or female; Danny never said no. "Any hole's a goal." He would cheerfully reply when offered his next job by Maxine, the agency's receptionist. Maxine would always chuckle after hearing Danny's usual response. "Dirty bastard," she would say affectionately before picking up the next punter's call. Sex was big business, always had been and always will be.
And so Danny now found himself in the Master Talbot Hotel in Olinsbury. To say the hotel was a dive was being polite. Danny had arrived before his client; this wasn't unusual, clients liked to feel they were on a date rather than sleeping with a prostitute; that's why they chose escorts instead of whores. He would often arrive first at the hotels, check-in and set up a tray of drinks ready to play host to his 'date' of that evening.
When Danny walked into the chalet style room which was nothing more than a concrete block set bizarrely in a row of blocks outside the hotel and in the actual car park; he found himself in a seventies time warp. Brown being the predominant colour, with large garish orange patterns on the plastic wall coverings. Danny sat on the brown chenille bed covering and gave a little bounce to check the sturdiness of the bed. A loud squeak followed by a twang of springs, let Danny know that most of tonight's work would be conducted on the floor.
"Carpet burns," he mused to himself as he continued to get ready for the night ahead. Danny opened his plastic bag and produced a bottle of Crystal Champagne and two plastic wine glasses; rarely would a mini bar be available at places like the Master Talbot, so Danny always came prepared. He poured himself a glass of the fizz, paid for by his client, and chopped himself a couple of lines on the glass covered coffee table cum bedside cabinet, stuck in the corner of the room. His client Terry loved to take it up the arse, hard and fast; never wanted to do stay and chat. Condoms were always worn and chat was kept to a minimum. Terry was a regular with the escort agency and one of Danny's easy lays; always paid cash, never quibbled over
the cost of the champagne and was now seemingly becoming a regular as Danny had pleasured Terry three times in the last month and he knew other escorts had done the same.
As the cocaine congealed at the back of Danny's throat, causing him to cough and then take a big swig of champagne to wash it down, a light knock at the door alerted him to Terry's arrival. Danny opened the door to the grey suited, overweight and drab looking Terry.
"Hello gorgeous," Terry smiled.
"Hi lovely," Danny smiled back, opening the door wider to allow Terry entrance. Terry walked passed and immediately gave Danny a condom before removing the grey suit bottoms revealing a chubby pair of legs. Danny grinned; that's what he liked, quick and to the point. With any luck this would be over fast and he could set up another meet.
"Kerching," mouthed Danny as he rubbed his cock into an erection. He knelt behind the bent over figure of Terry whose hands were pulling open two enormous arse cheeks, showing a pulsating anus, winking at him from behind curly pubic hair scattered along the crack.
"Any hole's a goal," Danny smiled to himself and got to work.
Chapter Fourteen
Tuesday 9th July
22:00 hours
Dirty, cracked and yellow teeth bit into the Turkish Delight bar Malcolm was holding. He had begun by picking off the chocolate in an attempt to slow down the gourmandization of the bar, but his hunger was so severe he just rammed it into his mouth and bit down; chomping hard and relishing the sweet sticky taste. After the bar was gone, Malcolm got up from his rickety single divan, pushing his green sheets back and away from him as he shuffled to the foot of the bed.
Malcolm's room was a large double at the front of his parent's house. In an attempt to stay away from his hateful father, Malcolm had tried to fashion the room into a bedsit, choosing a single bed so he had space for a desk, office chair, sofa and television unit. None of the furniture was new as he had to rely on his mother's charity to fund the project so it was a miss-matched collection. Malcolm was happy when locked away in his room; it was the one place in the world where he was king. No one told him what to eat, called him lazy or fat; no one shouted at him and Vixen didn't reject him. In this bedroom Malcolm was strong, intelligent, bold and brave; a decision maker who was in control of his life. His only problem was as soon as he stepped from his world into the rest of the house where dwelled the overbearing mother and the father who saw him as an abominations, he went from king straight back to being an emotionally crippled and undesirable imbecile.
Malcolm walked over to his desk and sat heavily in his chair which gave a squeak of protest. He turned on the computer and grabbed another chocolate bar from the sweet stack which sat mountain like on the desk. As his hard drive completed its checks, he crunched on caramel and nut, closing his eyes he visualised spitting the contents of his mouth into Vixen's mouth and watching her eat it in a sensual way. His penis stirred as the imagination took control of his body. A musical note alerted Malcolm to the fact his computer was ready and he immediately opened the chat room where Vixen would often be. She wasn't currently there, so he searched instead for the Feeder websites he had learned about on a television documentary that had been shown earlier that year.
Malcolm had always envisioned force feeding a woman; Vixen in particular. At first he imagined there must be something wrong with him; when he had suggested feeding his ex-girlfriend, she had reached with absolute disgust. The programme had been an epiphany for him, however, a confirmation that although not considered the norm, there were men and women just like him in the world.
Malcolm knew that Vixen would probably never succumb to his demands for feeding, but he still believed she had some feelings for him - she continued to converse with him online and although she would accuse him of being sick in the head when he told her that he wanted to ram a chocolate bar in every orifice - she still came back online and hadn't blocked him or refused to speak to him, yet.
Malcolm spent twenty minutes looking at pictures of women with pipes in their mouths, topped by a funnel. Another extraordinarily fat women or extraordinarily thin man would be stuffing the funnel with food mush. All participants were naked and visibly aroused. Malcolm was able to access videos of the same and he was becoming more and more excited. He desperately wanted to see Vixen but she had not appeared online. Knowing she would be at home, Malcolm decided to go to one of his current favourite places which was a bush in the alleyway behind Vixen's house; from there he could see straight into Vixen's bedroom and on occasion he was lucky enough to catch glimpses of her when she omitted to close the curtains.
Malcolm tiptoed past his sleeping parent's room and quietly left through the front door. He walked the three miles that took him from the road of concrete blocks and litter strewn street in Elisworth to the leafy more affluent area of Twockford where Vixen lived.
Malcolm crept passed the ever present paparazzi and took up position in his favourite bush. He didn't expect to see much of her, but just the thought that Vixen may be naked and her pendulous breasts may be jiggling around inside the domicile, was enough for Malcolm. He released his penis from his trousers and began to stroke himself as he imagined what Vixen may be doing.
Suddenly Malcolm noticed movement in Vixen's bedroom. He saw her bouncy hair to past the window and saw her stop in front of the floor length mirror in her room. This was a rare treat; usually Vixen's first move would be to close her curtains, but this evening she didn't bother. Instead she studied herself intently in the mirror, turning side to side and rubbing her hand over her greyhound flat stomach. Malcolm found the stomach disgusting but could imagine the bulge and swell of it should he manage to feed Vixen the way they did on the internet.
Vixen pulled her pink top off over her head, releasing her enormous naked breasts from their material prison. Malcolm gasped in delicious surprise at them and pulled harder at himself as he watched Vixen squeeze her dustbin lid nipples between each finger and lift each breasts in both hands; they looked very heavy and Malcolm knew they would be very suffocating if they were ever to be pushed into his face. He could hold on no longer and he exploded into his cupped hand. Malcolm couldn't resist flinging his product at Vixen's window; he imagined it flying into Vixen's mouth and like magic making her breasts even bigger.
Reality hit him when Vixen turned at the sound of his semen splatting on her window. He ducked down in the bush but couldn't move as the breasts which now jiggled towards him, held him transfixed; only snapping out of it when Vixen pulled her curtains closed. Hearing the laughter of the nearby paps, Malcolm realised he had put himself in a really dangerous situation. If Vixen alerted people to the rear of her house, he would be discovered and almost certainly arrested. Malcolm pulled himself together and crept back the way he had come; heart in his mouth as he waited for the shout which must surely come.
No sound followed him, however, and Malcolm believed Vixen had once again allowed him to get close and live out his fantasies. He thought it was possible she knew he was there and because it was him, had said nothing. Malcolm wondered how long it might be before Vixen finally allowed him officially into her life and suffocated him with her fleshy mounds. Then they would live together and eat together, locked away in his bedroom forever. His mother would be so proud and his father would finally shut his poisonous mouth.
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday 10th July
06:00 hours
Todd 'Todger' Turnbull opened his eyes very slowly. The light immediately caused him to shut them again. He reached for the phone which buzzed insistently on his bedside table and cursed himself for omitting to turn the alarm off.
"The only day I can have a lay in as well," he grumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"What time is it?" the female voice, so foreign in Todd's bedroom caused a series of flashbacks, reminding Todd of the evening's shenanigans and his drunken state which led to a very enjoyable but inappropriate night with Candace.
Todd turned towards the voi
ce, holding his head in an attempt to control the pain of his hangover.
"Sorry, I forgot to turn it off."
"That's ok, I better go home anyway, and I need to get ready for work later." Candace began to leave the bed, she grabbed the quilt cover and wrapped it around her body; self-conscious in the cold, sober light of morning. Todd, also feeling a bit embarrassed, quickly covered his nakedness with a bed cover and jumped from the bed.
"I'll leave you alone to get dressed," he said, "I'll go to the bathroom."
"Actually," Candace stopped him, "Sorry Guv, uh, Todd, but I could do with going to the bathroom myself."
"Oh, of course, sorry. You go in the bathroom and I'll wait here." Todd agreed.
Candace rose with the quilt around her and grabbed her clothes. Todd and her then had a rather awkward dance in the middle of the room as they tried to shuffle passed each other; both reluctant to make eye contact and frightened to let naked flesh touch naked flesh.
"Sorry."
"No it's fine."
"I just need my shoes."
"Oh, where are they?"
"Just over there," Candace pointed past Todd towards the foot of the bed where her shoes were placed very neatly beside each other.
"How did you manage to do that?" he wondered.
"What?"
"Put your shoes so tidy when we were, you know," he nodded in Candace's pubic direction.
"Just a neat freak I suppose," she chuckled, grabbed the shoes and shuffled in her quilt to Todd's bathroom. Todd released his bed covering, picked up his own clothes which were in various parts of the room and hurriedly put them on; all the while pondering his situation with Candace and trying to concentrate on not throwing up. He looked in his bedroom mirror and grimaced at the red eyed wolf looking back at him, then dabbed at the red wine stains which still smeared his lips into a constant smile.
Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery Page 10
