The morning after the very enjoyable horseplay in the Carrington’s stables, what will forever be remembered as the double spank and wank, I rose exceptionally early in order to make a start on the overdue chapters for gay Gordon.
It was a much colder day than the one before and I thought to my self it was probably a sign of things to come.
So I made some coffee and switched on the central heating before setting to work.
I had been hard at work in my study for about two hours and had made significant progress when there was a tapping on the window.
I got up and drew back the curtain and there beyond the glass was Maisie Stewart, hands in pockets and the collar of her jacket turned up against the cold.
I gestured towards the kitchen, she nodded her head and turned away and I exited the study.
When I reached the kitchen she was stood outside the back door I shook my head in disbelief as I opened it.
“Come in you silly girl” I said crossly
“You don’t need to wait to asked”
“Sorry” she said as she trudged in
“What are you doing up and about this early on a Saturday?” I asked her
“I’m looking after India’s horse while she’s away” she replied “I’ve just come from the stables”
“You look perished” I said
“I am” Maisie said “I don’t know how I’m going to cope with working outside in the winter”
“Do you want a drink?” I asked her as I picked up the kettle
“Well I came here to get warm” she replied “but…”
“Oh I see” I said as the penny dropped, “well take your boots off and get up stairs”
Two hours later I kissed her goodbye and she scampered up the garden towards home looking much warmer.
Maisie told me in bed between the first and second “warming” that the reason that she came to see me so brazenly, which was totally out of character for her, was jealousy.
Or I should perhaps say more accurately jealous lust.
When she arrived at the stable that morning and discovered the devastation left by India and I after our session the day before,
She got mad, not because of the mess but because she could only too vividly picture the scene in her minds eye of how it came about and she was pissed that it wasn’t her.
While she was working in the rain with Frankie, India was getting a good seeing to on the hay and remembering her own not inconsequential part in the sexual drama that preceded it she ended up making herself mad and horny in equal measure.
By the time I had finished with her she was placated and well satisfied.
And it was bloody good for me too.
After the surprise diversion with Maisie I was famished so I made myself an omelette and then put my nose back to the grindstone to see if I could placate and satisfy my publisher as easily.
About an hour into it my train of thought was broken by the telephone ringing and I cursed under my breath about the interruption before I answered it.
“Hello” I said flatly
“Hello Simon, it’s Katy” said the vicar
“Hello Katy, Katy Oliver” I said in a lighter frame of mind
After a brief chuckle she continued
“The reason for the call, I’m having an informal dinner party at the vicarage, Well when I say dinner party I mean a takeaway curry, I can’t cook to save my life” she paused briefly “so if you’re free tonight, its just beer, curry and Trivial Pursuits and you know most of the others”
I remembered the time not so long ago when the vicar much the worse for drink offered herself to me on a plate, so I was about to refuse until she mentioned Trivial Pursuits.
“Love to Katy” I said, “Should I bring anything?”
“Only if you can drink it,” she replied, “come about eight, bye”
Well I looked at my watch and thought another two or three hours work should get gay Gordon off my back.
Spurred on by the disturbing image of Gordon on my back I managed to complete not one but two chapters and very salacious they were too, which meant I had time for a quick snack and I would still have time to shower and shave at my leisure.
When I arrived at the Vicarage, bang on 8 o’clock I was surprised to be told that I was the last.
“Come in” the vicar said and handed me a menu “we’ve all chosen”
I felt positively tardy.
Katy Oliver had said that I knew almost everyone and she was not wrong.
Claire Andrews, Doctor and occasional lover,
Olivia Adamson her stone faced practise manager, who had never had the pleasure of me or anyone else by the look of her,
Golf buddies Victoria Braithwaite and Judith Hunt, Eric Wilson the Landlord of the Cross Keys and his wife Carol
The verger Daniel Casey, organist Will Patterson and his Niece Dakota Browning, the only one I had never met before.
It was a mixed bunch of the Godly and the heathen the old and the young the sublime and the ridiculous.
The only one of the party I didn’t know was Dakota who was the youngest, early 20’s, and was remarkable for two reasons one was that she was an American and second that she was completely bald.
She also appeared to be completely devoid of any hair at all, no eyebrows, arm hair and I presumed nothing down there as well.
I was curious as to how or why and I planned to ask her later once the wine had flowed a little, not about down there particularly but if she volunteered the information I wouldn’t mind.
We had an excellent curry and a liberal quantity of beer was consumed, apart from Claire who was on call.
I didn’t get to speak to Claire very much we had to keep up the pretence that we were mere acquaintances and not shagging on a semi permanent basis.
As the evening wore on the Trivial Pursuit appeared to universal acclaim.
Sadly after about an hour and with our team winning Claire was paged and had to leave but thankfully took with her the sour faced Olivia.
Then just after midnight the Publican’s called it a night as did the verger.
That left Victoria and Dakota on my team and we were narrowly in the lead and when both teams needed only one cheese. Will and Dakota had to go.
I looked at the clock and saw it was 2 o’clock.
“Have you seen the time Vicar?” I said “don’t you have work in the morning?”
“Ah no” she slurred “this week there is a combined service at St Bartholomew’s in Wavesdon and they don’t start until 4 pm”
She gave a huge grin and raised her glass.
“Happy days” she said and took a drink most of which went down her chin.
“Now let’s finish the game” she said wiping her mouth on her sleeve.
“Oh yes I remember now” I said “are we all going?”
“Yes there’s a coach laid on” said Judith
It was 3.15am when Judith answered the winning question to great rejoicing.
“Well done” I said “on behalf of my partner and myself”
My partner Victoria was asleep on the sofa beside me and feeling no pain.
“Home time” Judith said
So we said goodnight to the vicar and Judith and I guided Victoria homeward, we decided across the golf course was the shortest.
“Damn” I said
“What’s wrong?” Asked Judith
“I never did ask Dakota why she was bald” I replied
“She fell out of a tree when she was six” Judith answered
“Oh” I responded and was about to speak
“And she’s bald down there as well” Judith interrupted
“I wasn’t going to ask that” I protested
“But you were curious” she continued and I nodded.
As we pressed on through the darkness and I could still make out lights coming from the Golf club, which I thought a little odd, but we pressed on and when we got to Victoria’s, Maisie was standing sentry waiting for Victoria to return.
And she gave me a right ear bashing
“You should know better”, “disgraceful behaviour” “a man of your age” “you should be ashamed of yourself” a very different tone to the one she was making the previous morning.
I was flabbergasted while Judith just laughed openly.
“I’ll help Maisie, you’d better get going,” she said still laughing
My ears were still ringing with Maisie’s chastisement as I emerged through the gate and back onto the golf course and I could still see a lot of lights burning.
I decided to investigate, not perhaps the wisest course of action if indeed the place was being robbed but I was slightly merry and therefore slightly stupid.
When I got to the clubhouse I checked around the building looking through the windows but I couldn’t see anything until I reached Snipes office and I saw her sitting at her desk with her back to the window with a pile of cash on the desk
I smiled to myself as I thought she looked like Scrooge in his counting house.
I was just about to turn on my heels and head home when she did something extraordinary, Agnes Snipe, commercial manager of the golf club picked up a large wad of bank notes and stuffed them into her handbag.
Agnes Snipe “The Wicked Witch of the West” was fiddling the books.
I had long since wanted to speak to Agnes because of the unfair way she treated Georgia for what reason I don’t know just plain mean I supposed, and this seemed as good a time as any.
I was suddenly sober and decided it was time to deal with the Snipe.
I walked around to the staff entrance and punched in the 5-digit code on the keypad, I had seen Georgia do it many times and it stuck in my memory.
Once inside I crept quietly down the corridor and out through the door at the end and I was only about 30 feet from her office.
Now I almost tip toed until I could see her seated at her desk.
And from the doorway I said
“Good morning Miss Snipe and how are you”
“How did you get in here?” she said startled
“I was just passing and the door was open” I lied
“What do you want Mr. Fisher?” she snapped “I’m very busy and it’s very late”
“What I want” I said as I walked into the room “is to look in your handbag”
“What?” A shocked look came over her face
“I want to see how much money you have stashed in your handbag,” I said, now only a few feet away from her
“I don’t know what you mean” she exclaimed in a rather shrill voice and nervously her eyes darted in the direction of the bag
Then all of a sudden she rose up from the chair and made a lunge for it and got there marginally before me but I got a firm hold of the strap and used my body weight to pin her against the desk
Then with my height advantage and superior strength I wrestled it away from her small birdlike hands, which once empty she used to support her weight
“So let’s have a look in here Miss Snipe” I said
“It’s not what you think Mr. Fisher” she cried
“Really?” I said “Well what I think is that you’ve had your fingers in the till”
I opened the bag and inside was a loose fold of notes of different denominations, difficult to say how much exactly but certainly in the hundreds.
Then it suddenly dawned on me that I didn’t have a clue what to do next.
I had caught her red handed but what could I do about it, nothing.
It was while I was pondering this thorny question that “The Wicked Witch of the West” started to rub her bony arse against me.
This was not expected and not welcome, I had always found Agnes Snipe to be sexually repugnant and I’m not a fussy man by any means but with the intrigue and adventure of breaking in and catching the villain in the act, resulting in a certain amount of adrenalin being released into my system and the fact that I was just pissed enough to think “what the hell” I thought “what the hell”.
“So you want to play do you?”
She didn’t answer me but let out a long steady exhale through her nose. And she pushed again against the lump in my trousers
I threw the hand bag in the corner of the room and began hiking up her black skirt; she always wore black, like a witch.
I released the pressure against her to allow just enough clearance between us for the fabric to pass.
It was a good quality garment lined, not from a catalogue.
I had to say that of her as repugnant as she was she always dressed well, but then when you’re stealing from your employer you can afford too.
So Agnes was bent over her desk her full weight on her palms, the hem of her skirt was halfway up her back.
I ran my hands up to the waistband of her tights and yanked then smartly downwards, it was such a swift movement not unlike the magicians tablecloth trick and her knickers came down too.
So with knickers and tights safely around her knees and thus preventing her quick escape if that was ever on her mind which I somehow doubted in fact I think that the only thing on her mind was precisely what she was about to get, cock.
I undid my trousers and sat in her chair my cock stiffly on parade
I thought if she going t run this is the moment as I sat there and stared at her bony white arse and in truth I began to loose interest until as she fidgeted on the desk I could plainly see her pussy was completely hairless and my cock responded so I probed a weary digit between her lips almost like checking the oil level on your car and Agnes let out a low moan and my finger came out wet.
“Come on then Agnes if you want to play” I commanded
Miss Snipe who still had her hands on her desk shuffled backwards and lowered her hairless pussy until she was squatting on my shaft and that was when Agnes showed that she was no stranger to cock as she rose and fell on me, rising to the very tip of me on the up stroke and using every inch of my shaft on the down and the noises she made as she rode me were wonderfully dirty.
I thought I would wait until she lost the rhythm and then bend her over the desk but she was showing no signs of wavering, so with my balls fit to bust I used one hand to hold her onto me and the other to push me up from the chair and I stood up with my cock still in her and with five or six lengths I finished her over the desk.
I did think of spaffing my load all over her bony arse but she had been a surprisingly satisfying shag so I emptied my lot inside her.
I withdrew my dripping stork from her tidy pussy then I pulled her skirt down and wiped my greasy cock on it then put it back so she was left uncovered.
I redressed my self and picked up the handbag, opened it and threw the cash on the desk next to her panting face
“Some of that had better find its way into Georgia’s next pay packet” I said
“Yes Simon” she said meekly between pants “I promise”
“And you had better start being nice to her. If you ever want to do this again, do you understand?”
“Oh yes Simon”
“Good night Miss Snipe and thank you” I said insincerely
Then I left and retraced the route I took to get in and then I crept up to her window and looked in.
She was still laying bent over the desk with her bony arse and bejewelled Minge on full display.
I smiled to myself at the sight of the dragon slain in her lair by the good knight and his lance.
I continued watching for a few minutes and she stirred and got to her feet.
She pulled up her knickers and tights and let her skirt fall and it bore a large greasy smear.
And when Agnes noticed it she did what I had never seen her do before, she smiled.
With that revelation I turned and headed for home, it had been a funny old day.
And as I crossed the fairway towards home I thought it would be interesting to see if “The Wicked Witch of the West” was any kinder to Georgie after I had impaled her over her desk.