Rose was under my desk between my legs! This woman could do things with her mouth and tongue I never thought possible. I could hear her fingers slicking inside her as she worked on me.
This was supposed to be Rose's bonus, not mine! I looked down at her, the sun trying to cast its rays on her head. It would need to be a supernova to crack through the grime on the Victorian glass window. Suddenly I gasped as her tongue ran from base to tip.
Rose was my part-time secretary, friend, and lover. She was also pregnant with her third kid.
I was a secret from her husband.
I groaned as she scraped her teeth over my sensitive tip, "Oh fuck," I gasped, holding the top of her head, "You little bitch."
"Shut up!" she purred, licking her lips as her hazel eyes looked up at me, her long curly brunette hair matted over her face, "You love it, don't you?"
I just grabbed her hair and pushed her back down.
"Quit gabbing, and work some magic," I ordered as her tongue worked quicker, firmer.
With a groan, she sucked part of me into her. I could feel that gentle, constant numbness creeping through my inner thighs. I was getting close. Her fingers travelled down through the crack in my arse. I moaned as her fingers traced over my puckered rear.
Releasing me from her mouth, her lips moved back to my tip, that sensitive part she loved to tease so much. She firmly, but gently let her teeth press down onto it.
"Argh, my god Rose, that, feels, so fuc... urrgh," Rose slid her finger into my arse as she scraped her teeth across me again, "Oh, my Go…oh shit, oooooh fuck!" I groaned out as my belly tightened into orgasm. Holding her hair tightly, I pushed against her mouth as I came, covering her face with my cum. My belly clenched in time with my humping her face.
I was still recovering when there was a knock on the frosted glass office door. I groaned as Rose pulled her finger from me and announced innocently from under the desk.
"Come in!"
The door creaked open, and in walked a stunning young woman in her twenties. Her bleached-blonde hair tumbled over the collar and lapels of her black coat. She had curves where they should be, and pibs to match.
Fortunately, the desk was between us, as she strode into the grimy office. So she couldn't see the puddle of cum on the chair under me nor the glistening face between my legs.
"Oh, I am sorry, I was looking for Sydney Lester!" An expensively educated voice almost whispered at me in disdain, "Detective Inspector Warren told me I would find him here. I need his help."
I had watched the downward tilted head, those brown eyes looking up through half-inch lashes, and the subtle smile most men find attractive, suddenly disappear mid-sentence.
"Well, you've found me. Miss?"
"But, but, you are a woman!"
I looked down at my cream satin blouse, the top three buttons gaping. I could see the firm globes of my still heaving tits, snug in their cocoon of a french silk bra, a gift from Danny. The delicate laced edge of the bra, she could see.
However, the desk hid my still parted legs. I could still feel myself leaking and saw my cum covering Rose's face as she licked her lips. My skirt was still up over my stomach. All still hidden from the young genius standing by the open door.
I couldn't help but grin, and marvelled at how an expensive education served some purpose in life.
"That I am, and what can little old me do for you, Miss?" I did not attempt to disguise my irritation at the toffee-nosed bimbo hanging on to the door handle. A thought struck me, and I held out my hand and parted my legs further.
"I am so sorry, the times I have seen the disappointment on people's faces when they meet a woman private investigator," I looked at my hand and then bimbo, "I am Sydney Lester. If Bunny sent you, it must be serious. How can I help, Miss?" I thought, but I didn't add, 'for the third time.'
As I'd hoped, she closed the door and walked over, shaking my hand. I was expecting a shocked response. What I didn't expect was the most beautiful smile as she looked down at me.
"No, it is I who must apologise," Bimbo said, licking her top lip as she gazed down at my glistening goo, "I, I am Anne, er, Anne Rumbelowe."
My irritation was replaced by an idea, followed by another seepage. Posh Anne bit her bottom lip watching Rose emerge from under the desk, knickers in hand. Maybe, Anne might enjoy a bit of rough.
However, that would have to wait, business was business, and the rent was due on this wreck of a shell at the top of an old Victorian spice warehouse.
I straightened my skirt, making a mental note to change it sometime. I listened and made notes as Anne (yes, she'd gone from Bimbo through Posh to Anne as my pussy pulsed down), explained her problem.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Rose washing me from her face, her baby bulge hanging over the basin. I squeezed my legs tight together, leak prevention!
Anne handed over a photo of a man in his mid-twenties. He was young looking. He was also as highly educated as his young sister. Big brother had gone missing on a visit to London a few months back. It seems Mother and Father were devastated when he unexpectedly ran out as he did. It was just as Daddy was about to appoint Jamie, a director of the family business.
I explained my daily rates and expenses process. I took a bullseye as an advance, in crisp tenners and fivers. The rent was due after all. I slipped them into my bra. Which again caused Anne to smile broadly. Oh, yes. I was going to explore posh pussy soon.
After she'd gone, Rose grinned at me.
"Posh fanny, you can smell it." She sighed.
"I thought it was posh money you could smell?"
"That too, but you can smell posh fanny," Rose smiled, turning her back and lifting her skirt. She bent over to put her knickers on, parting her wetness to me, "Even you could smell she had the hots for you. I bet her knickers are soaked now."
"Maybe, like me, she doesn't wear them?"
One leg in her knickers, she looked over her shoulder at me. "Syd! Posh bints wear silk ones. I bet she's heading to her hotel as we speak, maybe even frigging herself in the cab. She'll be cumming over the vision of your weeping twat for days."
"God, Rose, you have such a way with words," I pointed out, "Hey! Are you saying I'm not posh?" I laughed.
"Don't know, never eaten posh pussy before to compare." She grinned, still with her knickers around her ankles and her sexy, gaping pussy still glistening at me.
I stood looking at the door, and echoed those sentiments "No, neither have I."
Just then, Inspector Warren let himself into the office.
"Christ, Bunny, what have I told you about barging into the office without knocking?" I said, hands on my hips.
Detective Inspector James (Bunny) Warren, took a deep breath and grinned. He stood almost six feet tall. Under his trilby, he had salt and pepper hair. He may bend the rules, but never took a bribe and was well respected by all, except his bosses.
"Posh, fanny, Jim!" said a laughing Rose; her naked bum facing him.
"Rose!" I gasped.
"What? You want some, I can tell." She grinned at me. We both knew she was right. I'd also heard whispers in these parts of Bermondsey, about Jim Warren and Rose. About him being the father of her son. I grinned as she kicked her knickers back off.
"I have no idea what you ladies are discussing. I came here to tell you, Syd, that a young toff is heading your way. She's looking for her brother. I explained he's old enough to make his own choices, and nobody matching his description has been found dead, blah, blah, blah. Advised her to come and see you," He was explaining, whilst staring at Rose's arse. He was feeling the noticeable bulge through his trousers, "Fuck, Rose, you have a hot arse."
"The 'toff' has been and gone," I interrupted, "I am just off to start work looking for him." I wasn't sure if Bunny could see, but Rose was ready for Jim. Her nectar was inching down her inner thigh.
Usually, I'd stay. However, ever since Bunny saved me from being kicked senseless by an ex, Roger 'Shanks' Williams, I had an internal understanding, never shag a guardian angel.
"Arty?" Bunny said, openly rubbing his bulge, as he spoke to me, but watching Rose stripping off.
"Yeah, Arty. Rose, if the old guy turns up for the rent."
"I'll tell him you'll be here tomorrow for his hand job in place of rent!"
"Fuck, no. Tell him I have this month's money here."
"What if it's his grandson?" She grinned, fingering herself as she watched Bunny now wanking his cock.
I thought about the old man's nineteen-year-old grandson. He had a long cock, but was still green. He was eager to learn and recovered quickly.
"Tell him we may have to come to an arrangement." My pussy was beginning to leak again as I looked at Rose lying back on my desk, Bunny lining his curved cock up with her slit. I walked to the door and just before closing it behind me, saw that cock slip inside a piece of slurping hot paradise. For a moment, a fleeting heartbeat, I considered joining them, but I had been paid. Business first. I closed the door and sighed as I left them. Satisfied the whispers were true.
**
Arty, or Ronald Arthur Mayhew, was my go-to guy. He had connections, albeit tenuous in some circles. However, he knew people, tough people, who he helped, and they looked after him!
Bermondsey, like most areas here about the docks area of London, was close-knit. Everyone knew everyone and most things. Around here you always helped your neighbour if they needed help. However, nobody saw anything or knew anything, when the law was about, especially those rozzers on the take.
It was a short walk from my base, at the top of the spice warehouse on Tooley Street, to Art's place in Hamilton Square. I walked briskly, my short trench coat flapping in the breeze. It was mild in the damp autumn air.
I passed Guy's Hospital and turned down Kipling Street. After about a hundred or so yards, I turned right into a cobbled area. The greyness was overwhelming. It wasn't just the time of year.
The great grey monolith of a former Victorian workhouse loomed ahead. It crowded out the sky around me. I shivered, but not from the cold. I crossed the quadrangle to the left-hand side of the building ahead. Climbing the large granite steps, I steeled myself for the interior.
It was dark inside, foreboding, and reeked of stale piss. I began to climb the narrow red-painted concrete steps, holding the black iron railings; you couldn't call them bannisters, as I went.
The paint on the cold, smooth walls was probably original. The first five feet from the ground up was a very dark green. From there to the underneath of the steps overhead, it was nicotine yellow. The Victorians built these places for one reason, and it wasn't to make you feel welcome.
Eight flights later, my legs killing me, I banged on the door to number 12 as loud as I could. Two minutes later, I heard the lock click. Usually, people leave doors unlocked when home. Arty knew better than to leave an opening for the law. The door opened a crack, and the shifty eyes quickly changed to a twinkle.
"Syd!" Arty shouted, throwing the door open. He threw his arms around me and, for a small man, smothered me. He ushered me inside before checking the steps. Arty was careful. He was a rogue and a petty crook, but he was alert most times.
"What's with the hammering on the door? I thought it was the fuzz, Syd."
I just stood there grinning as I took off my coat. "You know me, Arty, I love getting a man's heart racing."
"Cow!" He said with a giggle, "Wanna cup of rosie lee?"
"That's a stupid question, love. Of course, I do." I hung my coat over the back of a dining chair and followed him into the partitioned-off area of the kitchen. Four wooden walls, topped with frosted glass, smack bang in the middle of the room, served as the kitchen.
"Where are the kids, Arty? They're normally about at this time."
"Oh, Jenny's taken Gary over the road to the park. She dotes on the youngster. You just missed them."
There was a little pang of disappointment, after Shank's kicking, I couldn't have kids, so I kind of adopted Rose's. Jenny was redheaded with an attitude. Gary, even though he wasn't Arty's natural son, did have the same twinkle and cheeky grin.
"That's a shame. They're lovely kids." I sighed.
"They're little buggers! Gary is into everything, and Jenny, well, she's a real handful at times!"
Arty handed me a cup of tea before adding. "Rose, still at work? She said she would try and get some shoes for Jenny on her way home?"
I took my tea from Arty and sat on the edge of the small table behind me. The one thing Arty disliked was anybody lying to him. He may be a charmer, a rogue, a crook, and a thief, but he could tell if anyone lied. I took a sip from my cup, gathering some thoughts.
"When I left her, she was finishing something off on the desk." It was the truth, just missing the best bits. I noticed him staring me down, still that twinkle.
"That's okay then. I know how hard she works," he said, still staring. "Syd?" he asked.
My mind had wandered back to watching Rose getting fucked on my desk.
"Syd, you okay?"
"Sorry, I was miles away. I need a small favour, Arty."
"Name it, love." He grinned.
I quickly explained the essential details and handed him the photograph.
"Can you get this copied for me, pronto, please? It is asking a lot, but it could help find him."
"I think I know someone down at the 'Sketch' who might be able to run off three or four copies without getting caught, but," he looked me in the eye, the schemer was back, "It will be tight though."
"How much, Arty, I know you have to pay whoever?" I had some money, and I knew that Arty took care of his friends. So I didn't mind handing him a few bob. He walked over to me and dropped his hands to my legs.
"I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement now, Sydney," he said slowly, slipping his hand under my skirt and straight to my twat, "Don't you think?"
I didn't say a word; I lifted my bum off the table. Long enough to slide my skirt up for the second time that morning for a member of the Mayhew family. I grabbed Arty's head and pushed him onto his knees.
"I think it's a great idea, hun. Now lick my pussy like a good boy," I could feel myself ready to pour as soon as he knelt in front of me, "That will get things started nicely." The thought of his face and tongue being where his wife had been an hour or so ago was making my pussy so wet!
I felt his fingers pulling my fanny open, and also my cum starting to flow, as he moaned out, "Oh, Syd. You are so wet. What have you been up to today, you young slut?"