Sex Practice (36 page)

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Authors: Ray Gordon

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BOOK: Sex Practice
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"Obviously,
it's a trick!"

"I'm not so
sure, Brigit. She says that... bloody hell, she reckons she really
likes me!"

"She's gone
off her bloody head! She's obviously set this up with Gina. I
reckon she thinks that, by working here again, she'll be in a
position to get hold of some inside information. She won't give up,
Larry, I know that much!"

"Yes, you're
probably right. She wants me to ring her. Trick or not, I'd better
call the old bat and discover what her game is."

"OK, call her
now. I'll be in reception."

"Right.
Where's Lily?"

"In the
toilet."

"Jesus Christ,
I really must do something about that girl!"

"She's beyond
help, Larry!"

"I'll have to
think of a new form of treatment for her. How about having three
men fuck her three orifices? That would induce a subconscious
reaction, although I'm not sure what kind!"

"That's
something I've always dreamed about - having three men fuck my
three holes, all spunking into my naked body."

"Really? Well,
I'm sure I can arrange it for you. Talking of wonderfully perverted
sex - are there any clients booked in for this morning?"

"Yes, Molly
Molest? I was going to deal with her myself but, as you're here,
perhaps you'd..."

"When's her
appointment?"

"She's due any
time now."

"Oh, God, I
was hoping to have a quiet morning."

"I'll deal
with her, if you like."

"No, it's OK,
I'll see her. Send her in when she arrives. Right, I'd better go
and ring that old witch, Monica."

Sitting at his desk, Larry read the puzzling letter again,
contemplating its contents, wondering why Monica had suddenly
decided that she liked him so much. After all the woman had been
put through, tied to the couch, having her fanny hair removed, her
cunt licked out, he couldn't understand why she wanted to see him
again, let alone work for him.
She knows
about my wives, my false qualifications... it must be a
trick
, he reflected, lifting the phone and
dialling her number.
It must
be
.

"Monica, it's
Larry."

"Oh, hallo,
Larry," she replied sheepishly. "You... you got my letter?"

"Yes, I've
just read it. What's this all about? You say that you really like
me, and you want to come back to work?"

"Yes, I...
I've been thinking and... since my husband went, I've been
pondering on your words."

"Which
words?"

"All the
things you've said about sex and Catholics and... well, naked
people in corn fields and men entering public toilet cubicles
together. I realize how very wrong my thinking has been. As you
said, I've not been looking before I've leapt."

"I see. Well,
I'm not sure that it would be a wise move, you coming back to work
here, Monica. After all you said yesterday about my wives, my
qualifications..."

"I've been
very wrong about you. I really enjoyed the work, Larry, I'd love to
come back. I've also come to realize that my life has been so dull
and dreary. Compared to the life you lead, I might as well be
dead!"

"But, Monica,
after all the damage you've done... listen, I have a client
arriving any time now - come and see me later and we'll talk about
it."

"All right,
I'll do that. And I'm sorry for..."

"Yes, I know.
Just come and see me."

"Yes, I will.
Goodbye."

"Bye,
Monica."

"Would you credit it?" Larry gasped, replacing the receiver
and rubbing his chin. "Would you fucking credit it?" Deciding that
it would be far better to have Monica working for him so he could
keep an eye on her, he decided to take her back. "I suppose I do
miss the old hag!" he chuckled, opening the letter from the Inland
Revenue.
I miss taunting the in-orgasmic
old witch. I'd better give her a good thrashing when she
arrives
.

"Right, that's
fucking it!" he stormed, banging his fist on the desk. "You fucking
bastard, Ravenhugh! You fucking, cunting, spunk-bubble of a fucking
arse hole!"

"God, whatever
is the matter?" Brigit cried as she burst into the room. "Larry,
what the hell...?"

"Fucking
Ravenhugh, that's what's the fucking matter. He's reassessed my
fucking tax demand and the cunt wants thirty thousand fucking
pounds!"

"After all I
did for him? I sucked him off, he fucked Christine... what a
cunt-faced bastard!" Brigit swore.

"What this
bloody country needs is a revolution!"

"Let's get him
back here, and Lily and I will tear his cock off and chew his balls
to a pulp!"

"Yes, yes
that's a bloody good idea, Brigit!"

"What, tearing
his cock off and chewing his balls to a pulp?"

"No, getting
him back here. We've got the photographs, remember? OK, Brigit,
find out his wife's phone number and arrange for her to come here.
I know, tell her that her husband has been taken ill. Tell her that
he's here and he wants to see her. Also, get Ravenhugh here to
coincide with his wife's visit and we'll..."

"And we'll
make sure she catches him fucking my wet cunt!"

"Yes,
brilliant! God, what a fucking brilliant plan! Christ, with my
brain, I should be running the fucking country! Revolution, here I
come! OK, get onto it. Oh, and get that dodgy photographer in the
high street to develop the film."

"OK, I'll do
that first."

"Power to the
masses! Storm the Inland Revenue! Bomb Customs and Excise HQ! I
know, let's commandeer St Thomas' hospital!"

"Why?"

"Because it's
right opposite parliament. If we set cannons up in the wards, one
in the labour ward, one in geriatric, one in the canteen... don't
you see, Brigit? We could fire shells across the Thames and..."

"We can't do
that, Larry!"

"Why not?"

"Well, it
would disturb the patients! Think of some poor woman giving birth
with a fucking great cannon going off by her bed, firing shells
through the window."

"Oh, yes, I
hadn't thought of that. I know, we'll hijack a pleasure boat - you
know, one of those glass-topped boats. We'll install the cannons,
machine guns, missile launchers, and sail past parliament and let
them have it!"

"You've gone
mentally insane, Larry!"

"Oh, I thought
it was a pretty good idea. It would solve my income tax
problem."

"Yes, but
you'd be better off taking less extreme measures, like murdering
Ravenhugh, for example."

"Yes, yes
you're right. OK, you set him and his wife up, and we'll deal with
him that way. It's a shame, it would have been fun sailing up the
Thames and..."

"I'll leave
you to day dream, Larry!"

"Oh, yes,
right. OK, Brigit - go, go, go!"

Pacing the
floor as Brigit fled the room, Larry grinned. "Right, what's on the
agenda?" he mused excitedly, his stomach somersaulting in his
elation. "OK, destroy Ravenhugh's marriage, that's a good start.
Get Lily out of the toilet - no, I haven't got the mental energy to
waste on the daft girl! Ah, yes, kill Sarah... no, I'd better not
do that! At some stage, I'd better catch up with the latest news on
Mother Barren-Womb."

Grabbing the
ringing phone, Larry sat on the edge of his desk. "Doctor Lickman
speaking."

"This is
Mother Barren-Womb!" the woman bellowed in his ear.

"Ah, good morning Reverend Mother - I was just thinking about
you."
About ripping your clitoris
off!
"Tell me, how's the executive director
keeping?"

"Who?"

"The chairman
of the world."

"What are you
talking about?"

"Your boss,
God - how is He?"

"Blasphemy!"

"I'm sorry if
you feel that I've blasphemed, I only asked how..."

"You'll be
cast into the eternal fires of hell! Now, you listen to me! I know
that you planted cannabis in my study, and I..."

"Me, Reverend
Mother? I can assure you that..."

"Your
assurances are worthless!"

"Are they
really? Good grief, I'd better get onto my life assurance company
at my latest inconvenience and defile a complaint! I'll add them to
my list of targets."

"Don't be
ridiculous, you know very well what I mean! You've caused me a lot
of trouble, Doctor Lickman. I've had the police and sniffer-dogs
roaming all over the school."

"Was there a
smell?"

"A smell?"

"The sniffer
dogs, were they sniffing out a smell?"

"Of course
they weren't! Ten sixth form girls have been arrested for
possession of cannabis! What do you have to say about that?"

"It serves
them right, Mother bar room!"

"You know very
well that my name's Barren-Womb!"

"Oh, yes, of
course - I do apologise. Put it down to my pisslexia."

"Pisslexia?"

"Yes,
I..."

"The parents
are up in arms and the..."

"Are they
revolting?"

"Revolting?"

"Goodness me,
word gets round pretty fast when there's talk of a revolution!"

"What
revolution?"

"Er...
nothing. God, the phone's probably tapped! I'd better be careful
what I say. So, the parents are up in arms - I mean, they're
upset."

"They're
understandably distressed by the arrests of their daughters."

"Girls
shouldn't be smoking cannabis - it's not natural. Come the
revolution, I'll..."

"Natural or
not, the convent's reputable reputation has been irreparably
wrecked."

"That's quite
a mouthful! Try saying it faster."

"What are you
talking about now?"

"Tongue
twisters."

"Tongue...
listen to me, Doctor Lickman!"

"I'm surprised
that you allow the girls to smoke dope in school, Reverend
Cover."

"I don't allow
them!"

"Oh! So,
you're saying that you have no control over your pupils? Your
position of authority carries no weight whatsoever when it comes to
exerting authority."

"I am not
saying that. What I'm saying is..."

"What I fail
to understand is why you allow the girls to smoke cannabis. It's
hardly teaching them the Lord's way, is it? Apart from that, it's
against the law - until I get in, that is!"

"I have
already told you that I do not allow them."

"Mind you,
what with that burning bush episode in the Bible, perhaps it is the
Lord's way."

"The burning
bush has nothing to do with..."

"I'll bet the
burning bush was a huge cannabis plant and old Moses went
staggering off on a high having hallucinations of angels
and..."

"Don't be
ridiculous, of course the burning bush wasn't a cannabis plant!
Anyway, the girls know full well that it's against the rules."

"Why were they
in possession of cannabis, then?"

"Because they
broke the rules!"

"Rules are
made to be broken. Not many people realize it, but that's the
twelfth commandment - rules shalt be broken."

"The twelfth?
What's the eleventh, then?"

"Women shalt
mastur..."

"There are
only ten commandments. And I doubt very much that you adhere to one
of them."

"I adhere to
them all, Reverend Mother. Have I coveted your wife?"

"My wife?"

"Have I killed
you, stolen from you, worshipped a false Reverend Mother, been
unfaithful to..."

"You don't
know what you're talking about! Burning cannabis bushes, Moses
hallucinating..."

"Don't I? Many
a true word, Mother - many a true word."

"Listen to me,
you troublemaker - DI Clarke is going to deal with you. He isn't
stupid, he knows that you planted the cannabis in my study."

"Can he prove
it?"

"He'll find a
way, don't you worry!"

"Oh, I never
worry, Mother wooden spoon."

"I see little
point in continuing this futile conversation, Doctor Lickman."

"Ah, we agree
on something, at least."

"Yes, we do!
Goodbye!"

"Goodbye,
Reverend Brother - and may your Devil go with you."

"I hope you
burn in the eternal..."

Banging the phone down and walking to the window, Larry
contemplated his next move. What was DI Clarke up to? he wondered,
gazing at a young woman pushing a pram along the street.
Christ, I'll bet she fucks something
rotten
. The reception bell resounding
through the hall, Larry turned and left the room, wondering how
many cunts were in the world at any one time.
Talking of cunts, I must contact DI Clarke
.

"Good morning, Molly," he greeted the petite blonde as he
entered the foyer. "And how are you on this fine summer
morning?"
Juiced up and ripe for a
fuck?

"Hi, Larry,"
the pretty girl smiled. "I'm all right."

"OK, let's not
waste any time, Molly - to the examination room."

"I... I have a
problem, Larry. I need to talk to you before we..."

"Oh, right.
Er... come into my consulting room and we'll have a chat," he
replied, walking down the hall.

Seating the girl at his desk, Larry scrutinized her ballooning
white blouse, the profile of her long nipples clearly defined by
the tight silk material. Her pretty mouth half open, as if about to
speak, she offered a smile as she nervously twisted her long
chestnut hair round her slender fingers. Wondering what her problem
was, why she'd not dived into the examination room for her
fortnightly vibrator-induced multiple orgasm - the cure for
clitorus insensitivus syndrome
- Larry returned her smile and reclined in his swivel
chair.

"So, Molly,
what's the problem?"

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