Indecent: 15 Erotic Victorian Romance Story Box Set (40 page)

Shelly Homes was not very communicative during the long
drive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which she had heard from Jane
Wilson. I tried to relax myself with indulging in a light masturbation and to
my surprise Homes lowered herself to her knees on the floor of the carriage and
took me in her mouth, her cool lips feeling delightful on my burning hot flesh.
Her tongue circled the bulbous head of my prick until a shot of spunk flew from
me and hit the back of her throat whilst we rattled through an endless
labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we emerged into Farrington Street.

"We are close there now," my friend remarked as
she wiped the side of her mouth. "This fellow Merryweather is a bank
director, and personally interested in the matter. I thought it as well to have
Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his
profession. He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as
tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we are, and they
are waiting for us."

We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had
found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the
guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage and through a
side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor, which
ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight
of winding stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr.
Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us down a dark,
earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a third door, into a huge vault
or cellar, which was piled all round with crates and massive boxes.

"You are not very vulnerable from above," Homes
remarked as she held up the lantern and gazed about her.

"Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking
his stick upon the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds
quite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise.

"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!"
said Homes severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our
expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one
of those boxes, and not to interfere?"

The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate,
with a very injured expression upon his face, while Homes fell upon her knees
upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine
minutely the cracks between the stones, her bottom visible under her dress as I
stared at her. A few seconds sufficed to satisfy her, for she sprang to her
feet again and put her glass in her pocket.

"We have at least an hour before us," she
remarked, "for they can hardly take any steps until the good porn shop
owner is safely in bed. Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they
do their work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at
present, Doctor -- as no doubt you have divined -- in the cellar of the City
branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman
of directors, and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more
daring criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar
at present."

"It is our French porn," whispered the director.
"We have had several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."

"Your French porn?"

"Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our
resources and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 specialist magazines from the
Bank of France, each worth a sovereign. It has become known that we have never
had occasion to unpack the porn, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The
crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 filthy magazines packed between layers of
lead foil. Our reserve of porn is much larger at present than is usually kept
in a single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the
subject."

"Which were very well justified," observed Homes.
"And now it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that
within an hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather,
we must put the screen over that dark lantern."

"And sit in the dark?"

"I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of condoms in my
pocket, and I thought that, as we were a partie carree, you might have your
rubber johnny after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so
far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must
choose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall take them at a
disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind
this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a
light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no compunction
about whacking them down."

I placed my dildo, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case
behind which I crouched. Homes shot the slide across the front of his lantern
and left us in pitch darkness -- such an absolute darkness as I have never
before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light
was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves
worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing
in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault.

"They have but one retreat," whispered Homes.
"That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you
have done what I asked you, Jones?"

"l have an inspector and two officers waiting at the
front door."

"Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be
silent and wait."

What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it
was but an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have
almost gone and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff as
was my cock, for I feared to change my position whilst Homes stroked me through
my trousers; yet my nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and
my hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my
companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky
Jones from the thin, sighing note of the bank director. In the silence Homes
reached into my trousers whilst moving my hand up her dress. Together we
masturbated each other whilst our companions remained oblivious. She came
first, her pussy twitching around my fingers as she let out a low moan which
she hid behind a cough. For my part I grew close to coming a minute later and
whilst pretending to fumble for the lantern, Homes lowered her mouth to my cock
and caught the spunk as it flew out of me, swallowing it quickly before
resuming her place across the vault.

From my position I could look over the case in the direction
of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light. At first it was but
a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then it lengthened out until it became a
yellow line, and then, without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and
a hand appeared; a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre
of the little area of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing
fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it
appeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which marked a
chink between the stones.

Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending,
tearing sound, one of the broad white stones turned over upon its side and left
a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern. Over the
edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and
then with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder- high and
waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another instant he stood at
the side of the hole and was hauling after him a companion, lithe and small
like himself, with a pale face and a shock of very red hair.

"It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the
chisel and the bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for
it!"

Shelly Homes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the
collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth
as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a
revolver, but Homes' hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, and the pistol
clinked upon the stone floor.

"It's no use, John Clay," said Homes blandly.
"You have no chance at all."

"So I see," the other answered with the utmost
coolness. "I fancy that my pal is all right, though I see you have got his
coat-tails."

"There are three men waiting for him at the door,"
said Homes.

"Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very
completely. I must compliment you."

"And I you," Homes answered. "Your red-headed
idea was very new and effective."

"You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones.
"He's quicker at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix
the derbies."

"I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy
hands," remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists.
"You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the
goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and 'please.' "

"All right," said Jones with a stare and a
snigger. "Well, would you please, sir, get on your back so my colleague
here can fuck you.”

“Very well,” said the prisoner as the lantern shone on his
smirking face. His expression changed when Homes bent over him and pushed his
cock into her arse, calling for my dildo and guiding it into her pussy once I’d
handed it over. Almost in celebration of victory she sank onto him, wincing
slightly as he stretched her insides, the dildo helping to bring her to a
powerful climax in minutes. The prisoner thrust up into her as she came and his
cheeks coloured, clearly reaching his climax and spunking into her arse a
moment later. “Perhaps now,” said Jones, “we may march upstairs, where we can get
a cab to carry your Highness to the police-station?"

"That is better," said John Clay serenely. He made
a sweeping bow to the three of us as he put his cock away and walked quietly
off in the custody of the detective.

"Really, Miss. Homes," said Mr. Merryweather as we
followed them from the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you
or repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most
complete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have
ever come within my experience."

"I have had one or two little scores of my own to
settle with Mr. John Clay," said Homes. "I have been at some small
expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond
that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways
unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-pubed
League."

"You see, Watson," she explained in the early
hours of the morning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street,
"it was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of
this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the
copying of the Erotica, must be to get this not over-bright pawn shop owner out
of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managing
it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no
doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of her accomplice's
hair. The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must draw her, and what was it to
them, who were playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue
has the temporary office, the other rogue incites the woman to apply for it.
and together they manage to secure her absence every morning in the week. From
the time that I heard of the assistant having come in her for half wages, it
was obvious to me that he had some strong motive for securing the
situation."

"But how could you guess what the motive was?"

"Had there been young women or men in the house, I
should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the
question. The woman's business was a small one, and there was nothing in her
house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an
expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What
could it be? I thought of the assistant's fondness for erotic photography, and
his trick of vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this
tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found
that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London.
He was doing something in the cellar -something which took many hours a day for
months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that
he was running a tunnel to some other building.

"So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of
action. I surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was
ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in
front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We
have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. I
hardly looked at his face. His crotch and knees were what I wished to see. You
must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They
spoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they were
burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank
abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When
you drove home after the lesbian show I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the
chairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen."

"And how could you tell that they would make their
attempt to-night?" I asked.

"Well, when they closed their League offices that was a
sign that they cared no longer about Miss. Jane Wilson's presence -- in other
words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they
should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the porn might be removed.
Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give them two
days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to come
to-night."