It was Monday morning. I arrived at my rented South London office space just after ten in the morning. One of the perks of being self-employed is that there’s no one to give you a bollocking if you turn up late. Business had been a little slow lately, and I only had a little bit of filing, and to chase up a few outstanding payments I was owed.

I’m a private detective. Or at least I am when someone wants me to be, which isn’t often nowadays. People don’t have the money to spend on their paranoia anymore. So, a reworded ad in some local papers and a new (much smaller) office and fingers crossed people would want my services again.

The morning was the usual fare of some shouting down a telephone and daytime TV, and I was about to call it quits and head out for something to eat when the phone rang. The personal assistant was another victim of the economy, so I answered it myself.

‘James MacFarlane,’ I said into the mouthpiece, ‘How can I help you?’

‘Hello,’ A posh, very feminine voice replied, ‘My name is Veronica Hamilton, and I have a problem.’ I recognised the name, but couldn’t quite place it.

‘I specialise in problem solving.’

‘Good. I was hoping we could meet.’

‘Certainly, let me check my schedule.’ I stared blankly through the dirt on the window. ‘I have a gap in my schedule this afternoon if you can make it down here.’

‘That’ll be fine.’ I gave her the address of my office and she agreed to meet me at three. That gave me enough time to drive down to the nearest thrift store and buy a second chair for my office. I’d have to find a way to charge my new client for it.

At three o’clock precisely there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and without being invited a tall, slim woman strode in.

‘Please, come in,’ I muttered under my breath. Out loud I said, ‘Ms. Hamilton I presume?’

‘Mrs. Yes Mr. MacFarlane, please call me Veronica.’ She sat. I rounded my desk and sat opposite her. She was in her mid-forties I would guess. Her hair was black, and had clearly come from a bottle. She had money, and had spent it trying to make herself looking young and attractive. She had succeeded.

‘What is it that I can help you with?’

‘My daughter, Carina. She has gone missing.’

‘And you want me to find her.’


‘OK.’ This was a new one. My clientele usually were after cheating spouses, or some form of debt collection. Missing persons was an area people didn’t tend to trust on the self-employed.

‘May I ask why you have chosen my services? Missing persons is usually the purview of the police force.’

‘My husband is distrustful of the police,’ I made a mental note of that, ‘And they have had their chance. She has been gone more than a week, and they have not found anything. I need someone who will get the job done, and well, shall we say off the record?’

I nodded, inferring that she didn’t want her husband involved.

‘I have brought a photograph of her,’ she continued, fishing it out of her bag, ‘Her address is on the back.’ The photograph showed a brunette, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, and stunningly pretty.

‘Her address? She doesn’t live with you?’

‘No. She studies at Cambridge.’

‘Well, that’s some way away from here. I hope you are prepared to pay my expenses.’

‘Mr. MacFarlane, money is not an issue. I just want my baby back.’


We spoke for another half an hour. We went through Carina’s habits, friends, hobbies. Eventually, my new client stood up.

‘I would like regular updates Mr. MacFarlane. I am sick with worry. It struck me that throughout the entire interview, she seemed very calm and collected. Not how you’d expect a mother to be in this situation.

‘Thank you, Mr. MacFarlane.’

‘I haven’t done anything yet.’

‘I have confidence in you. You have an aura about you.’

‘Uh, thank you.’ I opened the door for her. As she left she leant across, and kissed me lightly on the cheek. I caught the strong scent of her perfume. We looked into each other’s eyes for a second, and she was gone.

I arrived in Cambridge the next day, unsure what to expect. It took me a while to find the correct building, but eventually I pulled up outside. I climbed out, refixed the door lining, and locked it behind me. I walked up the path to the front door. The house was big. Three stories high, with large windows either side of the front door. It was a Victorian design, and I guessed had at least five bedrooms. I had been given a key, but I decided to knock anyway. There was no answer, so I let myself in.

The hallway wasn’t very long, but had a high ceiling. I opened the first door on my left, and walked into what was clearly a living room. Gossip magazines were open on the coffee table, and a large flat screen television stood in the corner. The sheer quantity of cushions around the place indicated at least one woman lived here. I couldn’t see anything pertinent at first glance, so I turned to leave, and as I did so, got a cricket bat in the face.

I hit the floor face first, my nose and forehead screaming pain directly into the centre of my head. Dazed, I rolled over and looked up at my attacker. Eventually she swam into focus, and above me stood a petite girl, with rats tails of shoulder length brown hair hanging damply around her face. She wore nothing but a towel wrapped around her. She held the bat over her shoulder with both hands, obviously ready to strike again.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Her voice wobbled, she was clearly scared.

‘My name,’ I wiped blood out of my mouth with my sleeve ‘is James MacFarlane. I’m a private detective. I was hired to find Carina Hamilton.’ I slowly reached into my jacket and pulled out my wallet. I showed her my ID.

‘She’s not here. She left sometime last week. Why are you here?’

‘I know she’s not here. I’m looking for clues as to where she went.’

‘The police have already been through everything.’ She was still in attack mode, but she seemed to be relaxing a bit.

‘I work on the assumption that the police are crap at their job. Their pay doesn’t rely on them getting anything right. Mine does. Good shot by the way, I didn’t realise there was anyone here, I did knock.’

I’m sorry, I was in the shower. I heard the door open and I thought you were a burglar. Let me help you up.’

She leant the bat against the wall and came over to help me, but I waved her away.

‘I think I’ll stay here for a bit, uh, I’m still a bit groggy, you know?’

‘Yeah. Sorry.’

‘No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I understand.’ I was still a bit woozy, but I’d woken up enough to realise that the teenager standing over me was very pretty indeed, and from my current angle, was getting the odd flash between her legs. Which was helping me wake up more than smelling salts ever could.

‘My name is Erica by the way. I live with Carina.’

‘Nice to meet you, I guess.’

She smiled weakly, and sat down on the sofa, knees together. I sat up. My view between her legs was now was not as clear but was uninterrupted. I could make out the thin strip of dark pubic hair beneath the towel. I shook my head and winced. No! Be professional.

I looked Erica in the eye. ‘When was the last time you saw Carina?’

‘The Friday before last. Before lectures. I got a text from her on Sunday saying she was going to the summer home.’

‘OK. Do you mind if I have a look around? See if there’s anything else that might help.’

‘Yeah sure, no problem. I’ll just go get dressed.’

She stood up. I got an absolute peach of a view of the gem beneath her towel, and she bounced out of the room. As she swept away, the towel rode up, and I caught a glimpse of the bottom of her pert backside.

‘Damn.’ I said to myself as I struggled to my feet. I spent a few minutes downstairs having a look round, giving Erica time to sort herself out. I didn’t want to follow her upstairs immediately and make her think I was some kind of rapist.

Eventually I climbed the stairs, and called out, ‘Which room is Carina’s?’

The first door on the landing opened, and Erica stood, in a pair of very short shorts, and a very pink bra.

‘It’s the one at the far end,’ she said pulling a green t-shirt over her head. I managed to pull my gaze away and strode forward, and into Carina’s bedroom. There was the usual teenager’s mess all over the place. Clothes strewn all over the place, and books and paper over every available surface. A collage of photographs covered half of one wall. Carina with all sorts of different people, mostly it looked like school friends. I counted at least twenty different boys, and more than twice that number of girls. I felt Erica’s presence behind me.

‘Popular girl is she?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Erica smiled sweetly at me. ‘She’s a real party girl. Always teasing the boys. And some of the girls as well, if you know what I mean.’

‘I didn’t reply. I turned and looked around the room. There was a chair in front of a desk. I lifted the pile of clothes off it and sat down. I located the in amongst all the books on the desk and turned it on. I lifted the strapless bra that was hanging over the monitor, and placed it gingerly on top of the pile of books.

‘The police didn’t check this then?’ I looked over my shoulder at Erica, who was still looking at all the photographs on the wall. I guess she didn’t come in here very often.

‘Uh,’ She looked at me. ‘I think they copied the hard drive to study it back at the station. They weren’t here long.’

I turned back to the screen. It finished booting up. I went through her internet bookmarks. She wasn’t one for security, All her passwords were in a text file on her desktop. I checked her Facebook and Twitter accounts, nothing that seemed relevant from the last six weeks, and there was a lot there. She did however tweet at least three times a day, every day, no matter how mundane, until that last Saturday, and from then, nothing. So she must have disappeared between that Friday afternoon and Saturday morning. So why no text until the Sunday?

I went through Carina’s documents. There was a lot of school stuff, and lots of digital photos saved. One folder however, was password protected. It was named, simply ‘Private’. I checked the password file, but there was nothing there.

‘Erica?’ I turned again, and found her inches from my face. ‘Woah, you don’t half move quietly.’

‘Thank you.’ She beamed a toothy smile at me and put her hand on my shoulder. She was leaning over, her hand on her bent knees, giving me a good view down her top at her cleavage.

‘Do you know what this password could be?’

‘Um.’ She was visibly thinking about it. She then leant across me and typed in ‘Carina’. The folder opened. I looked at Erica quizzically.

‘My passwords are all people and things dear to me. The most important thing in Carina’s life is Carina.’ OK, I thought, teenage girl bitchiness. Maybe best to steer clear of that one. The folder contained a video file called ’01.02.2011′. I double-clicked, and Media Player opened. The video showed Carina’s bedroom, empty from a vantage point that showed the bed, and the door. I looked up, and sure enough, on a shelf above the desk was a webcam, half obscured by a pair of pink knickers hanging over it.

After a few seconds the door opened on the screen, and Carina entered, leading another girl, a blonde by the hand. The stranger was clearly drunk, her stride uneven and unsteady. They sat on the bed. Carina picked up a remote control, and some teen pop started playing. She dropped the remote on the floor, and with her left hand brushed a strand of hair out of the blonde’s face. They kissed.

‘Wow.’ Erica said. I looked over.

‘Do you know her?’

‘Yeah. That’s Nicola. I don’t know her surname. We don’t really hang out.’

‘OK.’ I turned back to the screen. The girls were lying on the bed now, Carina was clearly the aggressor. Her hands were everywhere. Eventually she stood up on the bed over her lover, back to the camera and began gyrating body to the sound coming from the stereo. She lifted her black dress from the hem, and slowly raised it over her head. It was the only thing she was wearing. Her naked arse stared out of the screen at me. I remembered where I was.

‘Uh, You probably shouldn’t be watching this.’ I said to Erica. I couldn’t move my eyes from the screen.

‘Don’t even think it, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘OK.’ I replied weakly.

Carina was back lying next to blondie kissing her lips, her face, her neck. Her left hand was moving up and down Nicola’s torso, lingering over her breasts and at her crotch. She began to unbutton the girl’s jeans. She kissed down her neck, and cleavage, her stomach, and removed the girl’s jeans and underwear in one go. She threw them over her shoulder, and buried her face into the blonde thatch she had just freed from restraint. Blonde hair was thrown back, and Nicola put both hands on Carina’s head, pulling her closer. Carina raised her backside, showing the camera her arse and vagina.

I felt Erica’s hand tighten on my shoulder, and I became very aware of the erection growing in my pants.

Nicola reached up and lifted her shirt over her head, and pulled the cups of her bra down exposing her nipples to the air. She grabbed at her breasts with her right hand, and began to run her fingers through her lover’s hair. A minute or so passed until Nicola pulled on Carina’s hair and up to face level. They kissed again, Nicola’s tongue escaping, licking her own juices of her partner’s face. She threw Carina onto her back and began kissing up and down her body. She settled at her nipples, licking and sucking first one, then the other. Carina writhed in ecstasy, and stretched her arms out above her head. She reached out under her pillow, and pulled out a pink dildo, which she began running up and down her slit. She gave the camera a good show, her spread legs pointed directly at it. Nicola kissed Carina passionately on the lips, and took the toy from her. She turned, and straddled Carina’s face. She leant forward and began licking at Carina’s sex, and eased the dildo into her eager slit.

I felt Erica’s breath on my neck, getting shallower and shallower. I wanted to turn to her, but couldn’t. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, throughout the 69. It lasted for several minutes, that seemed like hours from my perspective. The strokes of the sex toy in and out of Carina’s pussy got faster and faster, until both girls exploded with gasps, and panting as they came together. They slumped, exhausted, into each other. Nicola slid off, and turned to kiss Carina. They snuggled together, Carina on her back, Nicola tweaking her right nipple, kissing her neck. The screen faded to black.

‘Well.’ I guess I’d better talk to this Nicola. I pulled a USB stick out of my pocket, and slid it into the front of the PC.

‘You’re not taking that are you?’ Erica exclaimed, shocked.

‘I may need it for my investigation. As,’ I searched for the right word, ‘leverage.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

The file finished copying. I took the stick out and turned the PC off.

‘I think I’ve got everything I need here.’ I said standing up.

‘Really? I was hoping I could apologise better for hitting you earlier.’

‘It’s alright really, I’m fine. You don’t need to do that.’

‘Are you sure? You seem to have developed a lump.’

She looked at my crotch, where my penis was making a visible tent in my looses slacks.

‘Ah, yeah, well,’

Erica stepped forward and placed her finger on my lips.

‘It’s OK.’ She whispered standing on tip-toes, and kissing me on the lips, ‘I’m kinda horny now as well.’

I took her face in my hands and kissed her. A long, lingering kiss. Her tongue squirmed into my mouth, and I felt her hands scrabbling at my flies. I hauled off my jacket, and threw it to the ground. I pushed Erica away from me and onto the bed. I undid the top two buttons, and lifted my shirt over my head. I kicked off my shoes, pulled off my socks and undid my trousers. Erica leapt forward, and pulled my trousers down, along with my underwear. My cock sprang free, and hit her in the face. She lapped at it hungrily, as I stepped out of the last of my clothes. Her tongue moved up and down my shaft, her hands playing with my balls. She stopped, and looked up at me. Softly she kissed the tip of my penis, and engulfed me. I had never experienced a blow job like it. She was so eager moving her head so fast, back and forward, as though her life depended on it. Before long I felt a familiar surge and I pulled away, not wanting this to end so soon. I pulled her up, and lifted her shirt over her head. I got a longer view of her bra this time. It was a lurid pink, with lace detailing. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of it, pushed together by the tight fabric. I kissed her cleavage, and worked my way up her neck, along her jaw and onto her lips. I reached behind her with my left hand and unhooked her bra, then slid my hand down t o her arse, and stroked it firmly. Erica moaned slightly, vibrating her lips against mine. She broke our embrace, and dropped her bra to the floor. She unbuttoned her shorts and laid back on the bed. I put my fingers inside her waistband, and in one movement pulled them off. She wasn’t wearing any knickers. Her pussy was even prettier than I remembered it. Her neat slit glistened with her juices. Erica ran her fingers down her body, through her neat tuft of brown pubic hair and onto her clit. She looked up at me as she slid two fingers easily into her hole. I couldn’t bear it any more. I jumped forward, and buried my face in her crotch. I lapped at her love-bud, enjoying her scent and her taste. With my left hand I stroked up and down her slit, before sliding first one, then two fingers inside her. She groaned. I reached up with my other hand and started kneading her breast.

Oh, God yes!’ She screamed, her body writhing beneath my face, ‘More, more!’

I slid a third finger into her, faster, harder, all the while licking at her clit. She grabbed the back of my head with one hand whilst pulling mine up with the other, to her face, where she began sucking at my fingers.

‘Yes, Yes!’ She murmured through her full mouth. Her orgasm soon followed. Once the bucking and writhing stopped she pulled me up by the ears until she could kiss me full on the lips, sharing her sex. She pushed me off and onto my back, and straddled me. She grabbed my cock beneath her, and rubbed it along her slit, and over her clitoris. She slid softly onto me, squeaking delightfully as she did so. Slowly she began rocking back and forth. She leant back, and began playing with my balls with one hand and playing with her nipples with the other. I slapped her arse, and sat up so i could lick her nipples. Erica began rocking faster and faster. She let go of my scrotum and pushed me down on my back, and scratched her nails across my chest. She shifted her weight, and raised herself off her knees and onto her feet. Squatting over me she began bouncing up and down on me. I put both hands on her backside as I shifted my hips in time with her. Her tits began jiggling up and down, and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They were beautiful. She was beautiful.

‘I’m gonna come,’ she gasped soon, ‘I want you to come with me,’

‘OK.’ I’d been hanging on for dear life for some time.

‘Here it comes!’ I felt her muscles contract around me, and that sent me over the edge. Wave after wave of semen shot out of me and into my lover, her body shuddering at the sensation. She pulled me up and kissed me, long and hard, until her body collapsed onto mine, and we lay, exhausted, in each others arms.

Some time later, after an exchange of phone numbers, and a promise to meet up again, I set off in my beat up old car. I was headed to meet up with Nicola, if I could find her. Erica had told me she studied economics, and had printed me a map of the University buildings. I parked up outside what I thought was the right building. I wasn’t sure, I never had been good at map reading.

After about an hour of waiting the doors opened, and a group of students emerged, some alone, some in clusters. I climbed out of the car and started walking towards the building. I saw my target, one of the last of the people coming out, and she was walking by herself, her studying a text book.

‘Hi.’ I said stopping several feet from her, I didn’t want her to feel intimidated. ‘Are you Nicola?’

She looked up, startled, ‘Yes, who are you?’

‘My name is James MacFarlane, I’m a private investigator.’ I stepped forward and handed her my ID. ‘I’m investigating the disappearance of Carina Hamilton. I was hoping to ask you a few questions.’

‘Oh, OK,’ She replied handing me my ID back, ‘but I don’t know how much help I can be, I don’t know her very well.’

There was a bench not far from where we were standing, and I led her over to it and invited her to sit.

‘I’ve just come from her home,’ I said looking her in the eye. She turned away, clearly nervous about this. ‘I found a video on her computer, and-’

I was interrupted by a sob.

‘Oh my God. She told me she destroyed it.’

‘Look, I’m not here to judge, I just want to find out where she is.’

She smiled weakly at me.

‘Well, I really didn’t know her well. I don’t usually hang out with people like that. She’s popular, and I’m not, and I got invited to this party. I was really anxious about it, because there wasn’t anybody there that I knew, and I had too much to drink, and one thing led to another. . .’

She trailed off, and looked at her feet.

‘I’m not gay, I was drunk, and for once in my life, someone made me feel special.’

‘Do you see her often?’

‘No. After she told me about the video I was horrified. She wanted to start hanging out more, but like I say, I’m not like that, and I felt uncomfortable.’

‘When was this?’

‘About two weeks ago maybe? I’m not sure.’

‘OK, thank you you’ve been very helpful.’ I reached out and rubbed a conciliatory hand over her shoulder. If I think of anything else I may get in touch is that OK?’

‘Yeah that’s fine.’ She smiled weakly at me again. ‘I can’t believe she didn’t destroy it. I’m such an idiot.’

‘For trusting someone? In that case we’re all idiots. The file was buried deep in her hard drive and was password protected. I think it was special to her. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.’

I smiled at her, got up and walked away.

On the drive back home I ran over what I’d found out. The girl I was looking for had had a lovers’ tiff, about two weeks ago. After a couple of days soul-searching she had decided to get away from it all, and head to the family’s holiday home. If this was the case, then why not contact anyone? Surely the family would have thought to check there. I guessed that that had to be my next stop. I phoned Mrs. Hamilton when I got back to my flat, and informed her of my findings, (without the lesbian thing, I was less than specific on the details) and asked where the holiday home was. It turned out it was in the south of France, just along the coast from Toulon. It was a good job this broad has money.

On the Train down, I did some research on my iPhone. The Hamiltons were a wealthy family, having gained their money through several different kinds of business ventures. Among other things, Carina’s father had been involved in the oil industry. There were several less than flattering reports on the way he did business on the online news sites I visited, but I always take such stories with a pinch of salt. Sensationalism, that’s the news these days. No one tells you facts anymore.

I arrived in the town of Bormes-Les-Mimosas by taxi. I checked into a smart, modern hotel. It was basic, I didn’t plan on being here long. I spent the evening walking along the stunning coastline, checking out the area. The Hamilton’s place was a little way away from where I was, and I thought it best to start my search tomorrow, as it was by now, getting dark. I thought about hitting the nightlife, but decided against it. I needed a clear head, and anyway, my French was a little rusty.

The next morning, after a delightful breakfast, I headed out to the address Veronica had given me. I didn’t have a key this time, so I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do when I got there.

I found the property on a hillside, overlooking the sea. It was one hell of a view, one that was probably worth whatever the Hamiltons had paid for it. I knocked on the door, and it swung open on my second tap.

‘Hello?’ I called out, ‘is anybody home?’

I stepped inside. The hallway was a mess. A table had been knocked over, there was paper everywhere. A broken vase and some dead flowers lay in the corner. I walked through the lower floor, there was no sign of anyone, and more signs of struggle, leading from the entrance, through a living room area, and out onto the pool area out back. A deck chair lay on it’s side next to the blue water of the swimming pool. I looked around. There were trees all around, but you could just make out between gaps in the branches, some decking, probably belonging to the next property along. It was worth checking out.

I had a look around the rest of the property. There was a closet full of the kind of clothes teenagers wear in a closet upstairs. It was in a room with another collage of photographs on the wall. Clearly she had been here recently, and the signs of struggle downstairs suggested kidnap, so why no ransom demand? Had something gone wrong? Was she already dead? I was getting ahead of myself. I decided to check next door to see if anyone saw anything.

I approached the next house with trepidation. I wasn’t sure my French would be up to much. As I got within a few yards I noticed that there was a sign on the door handle. It read ‘we’re longing by the pool.’ This was good, it meant English speakers lived here. I had a look around and noticed a path leading around the side of the house, I followed it and came to a seven-foot high gate that was slightly ajar. I knocked on it and pushed it open slightly.

‘Hello?’ I called out, ‘Is anyone there?’

‘Please, come.’ A voice called out. It was female, with a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t French I could tell that much.

I walked into the yard cautiously, and round into a pool area almost identical to the one next door. This one however had a tall, tanned woman in it.

‘Hello,’ I said taking one step towards her, ‘my name is James MacFarlane, and I am a private detective.’

‘Oh, you must be here about the commotion last week.’ The woman was wearing a blue bikini, which showed off her curves magnificently. Her thick lips were the centrepiece to a beautiful face surrounded by a mass of black curls.

‘Maybe. A young woman has gone missing and,’

‘Let me guess. You want to know if I have seen anything suspicious.’ Her accent was curious. It sounded like that non-specific Bond girl accent they keep churning out.

‘Something like that.’

‘Well, Mr. James MacFarlane. I have to ask myself, what is my information worth?’

‘Pardon?’ I was beginning to lose control of the situation.

‘Well, I have seen something suspicious. So I have information you want. You come to my home uninvited, and want me to give you something for nothing. This Mr. James MacFarlane, is not how the world works.

‘I guess not.’ Did she want money? If she did we were both going to be disappointed.

‘Well Mr. James MacFarlane, do we have a deal?’

‘That depends on what you want.’

‘Mmm.’ She turned with a smirk on her face and poured a clear drink into a glass, giving me a nice view of her bethonged backside, vaguely covered by a flimsy, see-through sarong.

‘Well, Mr. James MacFarlane,’ she turned and looked me up and down, ‘I have decided. I want your clothes.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘A simple trade. Your clothes for my information.’

‘I don’t see-’ I was interrupted.

‘Please Mr. James MacFarlane it is a simple offer, and it will be my only one. You are not a member of any police force, you cannot make me tell you anything. I am willing to help you, but only for a price.’

This was my only lead. If I didn’t get anything here, then the trail would go cold, and I would be a lot of money out of pocket. I didn’t have a choice. I began to peel off my shirt.

The woman smiled. ‘I’m glad we understand each other.’

I stripped down to my boxers. Each item of clothing I discarded was picked up by my temptress.

‘OK, what do you know?’

‘Oh Mr. James MacFarlane. I know you haven’t given me all of your clothes.’

‘What, underwear too?’

‘Underwear too.’

I took a deep breath. This had better be worth it. I yanked my pants down, and stepped out of them. I quickly tried to cover myself up.

‘Oh, Mr. James MacFarlane, please don’t be shy. Or I may have to come over all shy with my conversation, if you know what I mean.’

I forced myself to drop my hands by my side. She walked around me, slowly, in a wide circle.

‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘very nice.’ She walked over to a sun lounger and sat down. ‘Last Saturday I came home from some shopping and saw a black van outside next door’s house. A few hours later I heard a commotion from out on their patio. It was very quick, I didn’t think much of it at the time.’

‘Did you see anyone in the van?’

‘No. But I remember the number plate. It was a British van, and I am good with figures.’ She smirked at me. Wait there, I’ll get a pen.’ She got up, and walked inside her home, taking my clothes with her. She returned a few moments later carrying a pen, and my wallet.

‘Here is your wallet. I don’t want to be accused of stealing.’

‘Do you have a piece of paper? I don’t have anything for you to write on.’

‘Oh yes you do.’ She knelt in front of me and grabbed my penis. It began to grow at her touch. She stroked it softly, engorging it to it’s full length. She took the lid off her pen, and wrote something on my erection. I had to turn my head to read it.

‘OK,’ she said standing up, patting my balls lightly. ‘We are done here. Thank you Mr. James MacFarlane, it’s been,’ she looked me up and down, ‘entertaining.’ She smiled.

‘Er, what?’

‘Goodbye Mr. James MacFarlane.’

‘Can I have my clothes back?’

‘Of course not. They are mine now. We traded fair and square. Now get off my property before I call the police.’

Crazy bitch. It was a good couple of miles back to the hotel, and most of that was through town. I had to think rationally. I needed clothes. There was an empty house next door, I could try there. I searched the house from top to bottom, but the only clothes there belonged to a teenage girl, and even if they had suited me, they certainly wouldn’t fit. Maybe I could wrap a towel around myself, and walk along the beach front. I could make that work. I’d be just another tourist who’d been for a dip in the ocean. Alas, however there weren’t any towels in the house. Not one. How does a house with a freaking swimming pool not have any towels in it. I forced myself to remain calm. Then I had a spark. I rushed into the bedroom, and ripped the sheet off the bed. It was pink, but it would have to do. My makeshift toga got me some odd looks as I walked home, but at least I didn’t get arrested.

The number plate, (once I’d given myself another erection so I could read it) was an interesting one. Luckily I had a friend who works for the DVLA, so I got him to look it up for me. The e-mail was waiting for me when I got back to my office the next day. It was a registered government vehicle, the address listed being down in Devon. Curious and curiouser.

I decided to head down straight away, and forgo the check in with the Lady Hamilton. I wasn’t in the mood. I got to a small Devonshire town at around ten in the evening, so I checked into a bed and breakfast. I drifted off eventually, my mind racing over the last couple of days. I just couldn’t piece it all together. Maybe this address held the key.

The next morning I headed out to the address from the licence plate. It was just an office block in a largeish town a few miles from where I had stayed. There was nothing extraordinary about it, apart from a very large security presence at the entrance. I wasn’t getting in there. I was considering giving up when I saw it. The van. It had blacked out windows, and turned off the road and into an underground car park. I hurried back to my car, found a parking space with a clear view of the car park’s entrance, and waited. After six hugely boring hours it reappeared, and headed down the road away from me. I started my engine and followed suit. I tried to stay as far away from it as possible without losing sight of it. This wasn’t my first tailing job, but it was a rarity, as I didn’t lose the vehicle in question. It’s measly van engine meant it couldn’t really pull away, even from my worn out rust-bucket. It headed out of the town and into the countryside. We wound our way through country lanes until the van pulled into a driveway. It was a long, gravel driveway, leading up to a grand old house. There were no other houses around, but lots of woodland. If you wanted a hideout, this was a damn fine place for it. In the middle of nowhere, with plenty of cover.

I drove past slowly, getting a good look at the layout. There was a large front entrance with two men standing guard outside. They were both armed. OK then, not the front door.

I parked up about a mile away, and headed back on foot, through the woodland. I hung back, found a likely window to go in through, ground floor open, at the rear of the building. I waited. I waited to see if any patrols came past. None did, They clearly weren’t expecting visitors. I hopped in through the window, and landed in a large kitchen. It was at this point that my brain decided to ask me what the hell I thought I was doing. I had just broken into what was quite possibly a government building. I could go to prison for a very long time. It was too late now. I had to carry on. I opened the door. There was a staircase to my right, and a hallway leading out in front of me. I saw a door open at the other end, so up the stairs I went. I crept slowly up, and along a hallway, with a few doors on my left, none to my right. Eventually I came to a doorway that was wide open. There was a desk inside, with a laptop sitting on it. I entered slowly. The screensaver was on. I swiped my finger across the mouse pad, and the screen lit up. I read the words,

‘To whom it may concern,

We have obtained the package you requested. It was easier than we anticipated, there was no barrier, but the location you gave us was inaccurate,’

There was more, but something thudded into the side of my neck, and I blacked out.

I woke up, dazed, confused, and tied to a chair.

‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

‘Wha?’ I spluttered, looking up. There was a bright light shining in my face. The rest of the room was black. I couldn’t see who was talking to me.

‘Who do you work for?’

‘I’m self employed. I’m a private detective.’ I got a smack in the face.

‘Who sent you here?’

‘I was hired by a woman to find her daughter.’


‘I’m not at liberty to divulge-’ I got another smack in the face.


‘Veronica Hamilton. She asked me to find her daughter Carina.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ I had figured out the voice was female, but I still couldn’t see where she was.

‘My ID is in my jacket pocket. Please, just check it out.’

‘OK.’ The spotlight went out and I sat in darkness for a few seconds. Then all the lights went on. I was sitting in what looked like a library. Books covered the walls, all bound in red or green. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could see I was in the company of two women. Both physically fit, one blonde, one brunette. Both wore what looked like business suits, short skirts, open shirts showing plenty of cleavage. I felt my penis stir. It was at this point I realised I was naked. Stark bollock naked hands tied behind my back, in a building and nobody knew where I was. I was deep in the shit.

‘Look, I didn’t want any trouble, I was just looking for a girl, and-’

‘Shut it,’ the blonde said, walking over until she was standing right in front of me. She leant down. ‘You are going to tell us everything you know.’

‘And then what?’

‘We’ll see.’

The brunette had picked something up. It was my jacket. I was gonna have to stop wearing my best clothes to work. She took my ID out and said to the blonde, ‘I’m gonna check this out.’ She turned and left the room quietly.

The blonde turned back to me. ‘Right then,’ she said smiling, ‘let’s have some fun.’ She hitched up her skirt, and sat astride my naked lap. My cock twitched.

‘Now, you are going to tell me everything, aren’t you?’ She smiled sweetly and put her arms around my neck. ‘You wouldn’t want to disappoint a girl would you?’ she pouted, her face inches from mine.

I told her everything. I’m no hero, I wasn’t about to protect a woman I barely know.

‘And then I woke up here.’ I finished weakly. By this point the brunette had returned, still holding my ID.

‘Do we believe him?’ The blonde asked.

‘Well his ID checks out, and we didn’t find any gear on him. And as ever your search was almost unnecessarily thorough.’

‘Well, what can I say, we always get the cute ones.’

‘Yes well, I think he likes you too, judging by the state of his penis.’

‘Yeah. I’ll finish up here if you want to head on upstairs.’

The brunette nodded, and left the room again. The blonde turned to me taking off her jacket.

‘I’m sorry about all this. We just had to make sure you weren’t a spy.’

‘A spy?’

‘Yeah.’ She sat on my lap again. ‘You see, we have your girl. Here, in this building. We work for MI5. She is to be a witness for the prosecution when we put her father on trial. He is an arms dealer. A drugs smuggler. He is a very, very, dangerous man. So we had to protect her. Keep her safe from Daddy’s far-reaching claws.’ She was unbuttoning her shirt now. I swallowed hard.

‘Right so, France?’

‘Yeah, that was us.’ She had taken her shirt off now. Her black bra looked expensive. ‘I am sorry for this.’ She looked down at my throbbing member. ‘It’s not exactly standard operating procedure, but I find it’s effective.’

She reached to her hip and began to unzip her skirt. It ran the full length, all the way down to her knee, and it came off as a long rectangular piece of material, leaving behind a pair of stockings and suspenders.

‘I have to insist though,’ she whispered, reaching up her back, ‘that we keep this between us. We can’t have the whole world finding out.’

‘Anything you say,’ I gulped as the bra came off, revealing two, magnificent, perfectly proportioned breasts to me.

‘Perfect.’ she pulled my head to her chest, where I kissed her perfect nipples. ‘I love a man who can take orders.’ With that she slid her panties to one side, and slid easily onto my shaft. She slid her arms around my neck, and held my face close to hers, maintaining eye contact as she bounced up and down, slowly, gently, in control.

After a couple of minutes the brunette came back in, ‘I should have known. Can’t you just once let the guy put his clothes back on and leave him be?’

My new friend turned to her partner, beaming. ‘I just can’t help myself.’ She stood up, ‘OK, then, you give him a go.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

The brunette strode over and planted a big kiss on the blonde’s lips, who responded by undoing the brunette’s skirt, and it dropped to the floor. She too, was wearing stockings and suspenders. Her panties hit the floor as well. She lowered herself onto my glistening cock facing away from me, still gazing at her blonde companion, who leant in and kissed her again. She then walked around and kissed me again. She returned and knelt down between my legs. I felt her play with my balls as the brunette bounced up and down on me, more vigorously than her companion.

May 2018
« Feb