Hot Sheets (15 page)

"What are you
looking at, mate?" Trudie enquired, emerging through the main swing
doors.

"At Goldie
having her juicy cunt licked out by an electrician," Mike replied
coolly, his eyes glued to the screen. "And don't call me mate!"

"God, you've
set up a TV! That's your sex room, isn't it?" the girl asked,
gazing at the screen.

"Yes, good,
isn't it? Oh, post those letters, will you?"

"VAT and the
revenue? You're going to pay them?"

"Yes, I am.
Look, I'm trying to watch Goldie get knobbed, go and post the
bloody letters and leave me in peace."

"You are a sad
pervert, Mike," Trudie giggled, watching the young man stab his
bulbous knob between Goldie's splayed buttocks. "It's a shame
there's no sound."

"There is,
it's turned down. The camera has an audio socket as well as
video."

"Turn it up; I
want to hear Goldie..."

"Go and post
the bloody letters!"

"OK,
mate."

"And don't
call me..."

"Sorry."

Concentrating
on the debauched sex scene as Trudie scurried off with the mail,
Mike sighed to see Miss Chaste making her way gingerly down the
stairs. There was no bloody peace for the bloody wicked! he thought
as she hobbled up to the desk. The colonel staggering out of the
bar and demanding a large scotch, he switched the monitor off and
followed the old lech back into the bar.

"There you
are, Colonel!" he growled, placing a glass of scotch on the
counter. "Is there anything else, or may I get on?"

"No, I only
wanted another scotch, old boy."

"Right, I'll be in reception if you need me," Mike sighed,
returning to the desk. "Now, Miss Chaste, what can I do for
you?"
Give you a good arse
fucking?

"Ah, Mr Hunt,
I've been looking for you."

"Well, here I
am, in all my glory."

"I couldn't
find you anywhere."

"I tend to be
elusive at times."

"I looked
everywhere."

"You've found
me now, Miss Chaste."

"Have I? Oh,
yes, of course I have. Now I've forgotten why I wanted to see
you."

"Never mind, go back to your room and have a lie down."
Try holding your breath for
half-an-hour
.

"I wonder why
I wanted to see you?" the old lady muttered as she wandered off
towards the lift.

"I really have
no idea, Miss Chaste."

Now, perhaps I
can watch the sex show in peace, Mike thought as he was about to
switch the monitor on. "Christ, Dave, what the hell do you want?"
he yelled as the chef shouted something from around the kitchen
door.

"There's no
hot water, Mike."

"What's the
matter with you? Of course there's hot water! It's on twenty-four
hours a day!"

"Well, it must
be the twenty-fifth hour because it's stone cold."

"Bloody hell,
I'm trying to..."

"Cold as a
stoned turkey."

"All right,
I'll go down and check the boiler."

Gazing at the
ageing Potterton in the basement, Mike sighed. Repeatedly pressing
a button, trying to ignite the pilot light, he kicked the beast in
sheer exasperation. "Fucking thing!" he cursed, laying into it
again. "It's as old as the arc!" Fiddling with the wiring, he knew
he wouldn't be able to get the damn thing going. He'd have to call
the Gas Board out - but there was no way he was going to pay for
the repair. Not with cash, anyway!

"Mike, are you
down there?" Dave called from the top of the basement steps.

"Jesus Christ,
where do you think I am, Timbuktu? You know damn well that I'm down
here! What do you want?"

"The fire
inspector's here to see you!"

God, help me
. "OK, I'm coming
up!"

Bounding up
the steps, Mike realized that he'd forgotten about the fire
inspection. This was the last thing he needed! he thought, trying
to compose himself as he strode across the foyer to greet the
inspector. He'd have to spend a small fortune to bring the place up
to standard. There again, Goldie's cunt would pay.

"Ah, Mr Hunt,
it's fire inspection day!" the uniformed inspector grinned
excitedly, his buttons highly polished, his immaculate boots
shining like mirrors as he stood to attention.

"Really?" Mike grunted.
I wish all
these officious little bastards would fuck off
.

"Shall we
begin in the kitchen?"

"Yes, if we
have to."

"You don't
seem too keen, Mr Hunt."

"Oh, I'm
absolutely bloody delighted! I've been looking forward to this for
bloody weeks!"

"Don't you
want your fire certificate renewed?"

"No, not
really."

"You'll be
closed down."

"Good, that
would solve a multitude of problems. Come on, this way."

"Were you in
the local paper recently?"

"Yes. Shall we
get on?"

Watching the
fire inspector shake his head disapprovingly as he gazed around the
kitchen, Mike thought about Goldie, the lewd sex show he was
missing. She'd be writhing in orgasm by now, the electrician
thrusting his tool into her rectal sheath, pumping his spunk deep
into her hot bowels. In future, Mike ruminated, he'd have to
install the monitor in his basement flat and pretend to be out if
he was to enjoy the sex sessions uninterrupted.

"Not very
good, Mr Hunt!" the inspector sighed, breaking his reverie. "Oh
dear, oh dear, oh dear! No fire blanket and no extinguisher."

Raising his
eyes to the ceiling as the man checked the door closer, Mike tried
to think what to say. "The fire blanket's in the wash," he finally
ventured.

"In the wash?
You can't wash fire blankets!"

"Oh, my
mistake. I'll have to get a new one, won't I?"

"Yes, you will
if you want your certificate renewed. Why is there no extinguisher?
Is that in the wash, too?"

"It's being
cleaned."

"Being
cleaned? In event of fire, the extinguisher wouldn't be any use if
it wasn't here, no matter how sparkling."

"No, I suppose
not."

"The door
closer isn't working properly. I'm sorry but you'll not get
your..."

"Yes, yes, I
know. Look, I'll leave you to it. Just tell me what needs doing and
I'll sort it out," Mike muttered, leaving the kitchen.

Back at the
desk, he switched the monitor on to see Goldie and the young man
dressing. Shit! Because of all the interruptions I've fucking well
missed the fucking, he cursed silently. "Christ, now what?" he
exclaimed, grabbing the ringing phone. "Good afternoon, Stokepot
Towers."

"Hallo, I saw
your advert in Wankers' Weekly. Can you give me a few details,
please?"

"Certainly,
sir. Your stay will include an evening meal served by two naked
nymphomaniac waitresses, followed by a night of rampant sex."

"Are they in
to anal sex?"

"They're in to
anything and everything."

"Knob
sucking?"

"Yes."

"Tit
caning?"

"Tit
caning?"

"I like
thrashing women's tits with a cane."

"Yes, they'll
enjoy that. We have a sex room with a fine range of equipment
including canes and whips, vibrators, a spanking frame, leather
straps, nipple clamps, handcuffs..."

"It sounds
good to me. What's the cost?"

"Two hundred
pounds inclusive - cash, that is."

"Right, I'm in
the area tomorrow."

"Friday night,
yes that's fine."

"The name's...
the name's Smith."

"All right, Mr
Smith, I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening."

"OK, about
six."

"That's fine.
Oh, by the way, we're on the sea front opposite the pier."

"OK, I'll see
you tomorrow."

"It'll be your
pleasure, sir!"

Replacing the
receiver, Mike jotted the man's name down in his diary. This was
the beginning, he mused - the beginning of the end of his financial
problems! But he still wasn't sure what to do should any more
punters want to book in at the same time. Think big and you'll be
big, he contemplated, watching Mrs Squeezeasy arriving through the
swing doors as the phone rang. One sex room isn't enough.

"Good
afternoon, Stokepot Towers," he said, pressing the receiver to his
ear.

"I saw your
advert - any chance of fitting me in tonight?"

"Yes, of
course, sir. You'll enjoy a fine evening meal served by naked
waitresses, and a night of rampant sex. We charge two hundred
pounds, cash."

"That's fine.
Is it all right if I bring my wife? She comes everywhere with me,
you see."

I'll bet she does
. "Well, yes, I
suppose so."

"Good - my
name's Smith, we'll be there around seven o'clock."

"OK, Mr Smith.
We're on the sea front opposite the pier."

"Fine, I'll
see you later."

He wants to
bring his wife?

Looking up as
Mrs Squeezeasy stood before the desk brushing her golden locks away
from her pretty face, Mike cast his eyes over the swell of her firm
breasts. "Things are looking good, Cecilia!" he grinned excitedly.
"Er... what are you doing here?"

"I want to
work for you, Mike," she replied, licking her succulent red
lips.

"You do work
for me."

"I've seen
your advert. I'd like to become one of your call girls."

"You've seen
the advert?"

"Yes, I take
Wankers' Weekly. I mean, I don't take it, my husband used to have
it delivered. I haven't cancelled the order because I... I
forgot."

"You did
pretty well with the priest, so I see no reason why you can't work
in room sixty-nine."

"Good, I hoped
you'd say that! When shall I start?"

"This evening
- be here at six. Wear something stunning, revealing, really sexy.
Dress as if you were a common slut of a dirty, filthy little
tart."

"Oh, yes, I
will! The money will certainly come in useful. Er... how much will
I get?"

"I don't know
yet, I haven't worked out the girls' cut. It'll certainly be worth
your while, though."

"I've always
wanted to work in prostitution."

"Have
you?"

"It's the
excitement, the danger - the sex. My mother was a prostitute."

"Was she?"

"Yes, she did
very well, earned a fortune."

"Didn't your
father mind?"

"No, not at
all. He was one of her best clients! Oh, I feel wet and horny just
thinking about it! Oh dear, I need the cupboard - I think I'm going
to come!"

"Save it for
later. Oh, there is one thing, I'd like you to shave your pubic
hairs off. I want to give the punters a choice, cater for all
tastes."

"Oh! I'll
enjoy doing that!"

Yes, I'm sure you will
. "Good, until
this evening, Cecilia."

"Yes, until
this evening."

It was all too
easy, Mike thought, watching the delectable Cecilia Squeezeasy
breeze off to prepare for her new calling as the fire inspector
emerged from the kitchen and climbed the stairs. Why weren't things
going wrong as usual? There was no doubt that he wouldn't have his
fire certificate renewed, but the new business venture was taking
off like a rocket. It was if it were meant to be, he reflected
happily. The lucrative room sixty-nine was definitely meant to be!
And annoyances such as the Glooms and Miss Chaste were soon to be
history.

Deciding to
convert a couple more fourth-floor rooms into sex dens, Mike
realized that keeping his clandestine activities secret from the
guests and residents was imperative. If the cat slipped out of the
bag, or the pussy out of the cock, there'd be an uprising - mutiny,
even! All he needed was the colonel poking his nose around the
fourth floor searching for Trudie's hot pussy hole to slip his wick
into! Not to mention Inspector Dickwipe.

Trudie, as
yet, hadn't experienced the delights of room sixty-nine, Mike
reflected. Goldie's naked body had paid for the plumbing and earned
fifty pounds from the electrician, Cecilia had milked the priest,
but Trudie hadn't contributed a penny. I'll soon change that, Mike
decided, imagining the dark-haired beauty handcuffed to the frame,
her legs splayed wide, a solid penis shafting her tight sex
hole.

"Mr Hunt,"
Harold Gloom whispered, edging his way along the wall to the
desk.

"Oh, Mr Gloom,
your wife was looking for you."

"I'm not
surprised!"

"That reminds
me, I haven't seen your son since you arrived, is he not well?"

"He's not my
son, he's my wife's lover."

"Bloody hell!
You mean to say that... Christ, he's your wife's lover?"

"Yes, it's a
long story. She plans to have me done away with."

"Done away
with?"

"She's
arranged to have me killed during our stay here - murdered,
even."

"Murdered,
even? Fuck me, I can't have murder committed at Stokepot Towers!
Think of the damaging publicity! The place will be swarming with
the police and press, not to mention undertakers!"

"Think of my
untimely demise! Don't worry, I'm not to be murdered in your hotel.
I overheard my wife talking on the phone before we came away. I'm
to fall off the end of the pier, accidentally when the tide's in. I
can't swim so..."

"You mean,
someone's going to push you off the edge of the pier?"

"Yes, that's
why I've been in hiding. She's insured me up to the hilt."

"I find all
this very difficult to believe, Mr Gloom."

"It's true! I
honestly believe that she's the Devil's mother. Is there another
room I could stay in? For the time being, I want her to think that
I've been swept away by the cruel and unforgiving sea. Washed out
with the tide and..."