Best Enjoyed Cold

BEST ENJOYED COLD

 

 

PART FIVE

‘Five foot two eyes of blue’

 

 

 

“Five foot two, Eyes of Blue

But oh ! What those five foot could do

Has anybody seen my girl

Turned up nose, turned down hose

Flapper, yes sir, one of those

Has anybody seen my girl ?”

 

 

 

Charlie met the Private Detective in a seedy bar off Melrose. The year was 1987 and Los Angeles was roasting in a July heat wave. The man pushed a folder across the table and settled back, lighting up a Marlboro.

Inside the folder were black and white photographs and notes bashed out on a typewriter. Charlie studied every one of the photos of her and scanned the typed entries the detective had made for each of the days he had been paid to keep her under surveillance.

Melanie still looked pretty much the same as she had eleven years earlier. Maybe a little lined round the eyes now but her figure and face were just as he remembered. He stared across at the private dick.

“Nobody ?”

The guy exhaled a series of smoke rings and shook his head. Two women at the neighbouring table glanced over at the source of tobacco smoke and coughed pointedly.

“Sure ?”

The man shrugged, ignoring the women. “If she has a guy, one, he’s invisible and two, he sure ain’t getting much action !”

Charlie didn’t smile at the crass joke.

“She’s okay for cash ?”

The Dick pulled a new piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. It had been scrumpled up and then straightened. He pushed it across the table. There was a round coffee mug stain on it.

“Last month’s bank statement.”

Charlie checked the balance and activity. Then he carefully picked up one of the photos of the boy.

“And her kid ?”

“Nice enough. Cycles to school. OK grades. Doesn’t mix with a bad crowd. Maybe a bit of a loner. But seems to get on fine with his mom.”

Charlie nodded, staring down at the photo again.

There was a long pause. He finally reached into his vest and pulled out a brown envelope with the agreed amount of pristine $50 bills.

The Dick mopped the sheen of sweat from his brow with a hanky.

“The kid yours ?” he asked, supping his beer, eyeing the envelope.

He recoiled almost at once, his eyes betraying a flash of true fear.

“Sorry.” He opened his palms in apology. “None of my business.”

Silently, Charlie slowly pushed the brown envelope towards him.

The boy was turning out nice looking. A typical American 10 year old kid; taller than most, and lean, apple pie wholesome.

Just like his fucking dad.

 

*** *** ***

 

The Chameleon smiled at the screen. Wall Street had closed five minutes earlier with the Cumber Corporation having recovered after frantic late trading to end the day at $15.05, exactly where it started. The rumour was that a particular hedge fund had been buying to cover its earlier short position.

He looked at his watch. Time for a midnight feast.

 

Rachel Cumber had replaced her mother on the operating table in the interrogation room. Her designer skirt and jacket and stained silk blouse had all been removed and she lay in just her bra and thong. She had been given a little broth to fortify her for the impending ordeal. Her chest rose and fell visibly with the beating of her heart. Her blue eyes roved around the room absorbing the scary furniture and devices hanging all around.

 

Charlie and Melanie had dispensed with their lizard masks. The game had reached a new stage. They preferred seeing, and being seen. But they had dressed up in their kinkiest bondage gear. He had donned tight black leathers while she was dressed in a bright red PVC catsuit.

 

Rachel whimpered and sobbed when she saw them.

“Please … give him more time … he’ll get you the money.”

“Of course he will.” Melanie smiled.

“But …” the girl’s voice trailed off.

Melanie pouted. But … who gives a fuck ? You think it’s about the money bitch ? Why is it that rich people always think everything is about money ?

She reached out and ran her fingers casually over Rachel’s stretched limbs. Her boobs were a bit disappointing lying flat in the lace bra but that problem could soon be sorted.

What you couldn’t deny was the allure of the face; the cheekbones, nose, mouth and jaw, all perfectly aligned. Her blond hair was greasy and lank but it would soon perk up after a nice shampoo and blow dry.

“What are you … going to do to me ?” the girl finally whispered.

“Oh … the list is too long.”

Melanie glanced over at Charlie. He was unbuckling his belt.

“Please … I … I’m a virgin …”

“Really ?”

Charlie smiled, eyes twinkling. She winked back at him. The surprising media rumours sounded as if they were true after all.

“Well then, I think you’ve really gotta lot of catching up to do.” Melanie said.

 

*** *** ***

 

Each year, between missions, Charlie visited Los Angeles and met up with the same Private Detective. As usual, the man pushed over a folder and lit a Marlboro but this time Charlie’s intuition detected a difference.

As ever, physically she appeared to have barely changed. It was 1993 and she was now 35 years old.

“Nobody ?”

He always asked the same question first and had always got the same reply until then.

The guy studied a series of smoke rings and stared into the distance. Enjoying his moment. Neither Charlie nor the Dick liked each other. It was a business transaction, nothing else.

“Nope.”

“Sure ?”

The man shrugged. “You heard of the internet ?”

Charlie nodded. His time as a signals specialist in the army had pretty much predated the web. He was no expert but he knew enough.

“Well your old lady is a keen … how’d you say … er … user of the net.”

He frowned. Over the years he had learned to let nothing phase him. He was immune to pain, fear, jealousy, love, all of the weaknesses that betrayed a man. He would live fast and die young. Die alone.

“What do you mean ?”

“Look, I don’t know for sure. The tracking technology is new and unreliable. But she is a frequent visitor to … well … certain sites.”

“You mean like dating sites. Personals ?”

“No. Not that I can tell.”

“Well …?” Charlie almost slammed his fist down on the table but he controlled himself. The old ‘anger management’ techniques still worked.

Don’t react in the heat of the moment. Stay calm.

“I mean … well … porn sites. But mostly fictional story sites.”

Charlie exhaled; one-two-three-breathe.

“Yes ?”

“There is this site that specialises in … you’ve heard of bdsm, right ?”

He waited, not even deigning to reply.

“Well, there’s an author named ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’. Writes all kinda kinky stuff.”

He already knew where this was going. Only one person would use that nom de plume.

“Enough.” He interrupted. “You have evidence ?”

The Dick smiled and tented his fingers.

“I think that an extra payment would be in order.”

Mistake. Big mistake.

Charlie grinned back like a reptile. One-two-three-breathe.

“Sure … let’s meet again late tonight and exchange what you have for another envelope.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Melanie rode the thick dildo vigorously. Thick but just right.

It stood upright from an inflatable gag in Rachel’s mouth. She could hear the girl struggling for air. Well, she thought, lucky for the bitch I keep myself in good shape. A different woman my age, with flabbier buttocks, and you’d be suffocating my little hobby horse.

She leaned forward and kissed Charlie, their tongues entwined.

You wonderful man. Yes, I still hate you for walking out on me all those years ago. But I love you for coming back. And for giving me this. Revenge. Not just any old tit-for-tat retribution but vengeance of a type and on a scale unimaginable in normal life.

She shuddered as erotic thrills surged up her spine. She wasn’t even remotely lesbian. But her sexual tastes had been spiced up over the years. Truth was, in the right mood she could enjoy pretty much anything now.

Somebody fucks up your life ?

She hammered down on the dildo, driving herself towards a climax.

You fuck them back one hundredfold.

 

She orgasmed a second time but still Charlie was making it last. He was standing at the end of the table, pumping in and out between Rachel’s thighs, controlling himself every time he was about to shoot. Mind you, he’d already blown several wads that day already so it was easier. Melanie smiled at how she teased him about not getting any younger. She felt no jealousy watching him fucking such gorgeous, firm flesh. He belonged to her forever now and they both knew it.

Sadly there was no blood. ‘Virgin’ today is a technical term. Rachel’s hymen had long since been taken by a rampant rabbit or horse riding or whatever activity 21 year old billionaire kids get off on nowadays.

But Charlie was nevertheless her first cock. And they still had her asshole and mouth to go.

And that was just for starters.

 

*** *** ***

 

It was 02.00 hrs local time, when she and Charlie woke Susan Cumber in her cell. The woman was lying curled up naked on her cell floor.

“Suseee !” Melanie cooed through the bars. “Wakee wakee.”

Susan turned and rose onto her knees, wiping her eyes.

“My friend here needs his dick cleaned. You want to do it, or would you prefer Lorna did ?”

Susan looked at them in disgust.

“I’ll do it.” She sighed quietly.

Charlie turned away.

“If it’s too much trouble …”

“Nooo.” Susan wailed. “I’ll do it … please.”

Charlie looked undecided, still ready to leave.

“Aw, come on.” Melanie mock-negotiated with him. “She wants it. Leave her kids alone.”

Still Charlie remained unmoved.

“He’s pissed off.” She confided to Susan. “How about you offer him something new ? I know, offer to tongue his butt, he likes that.”

Susan paused. “… I … I’ve done that.”

Melanie laughed. “My, you two are friends already ! Oh dear. Well fuck it, I can’t think of anything else. Maybe we’d best go visit with Lorna after all ? She must be getting lonely by now anyway.”

“No ! Please … look, I’ll do anything.”

There was a hush. One of those special, awkward silences with a distinctive quality all of its own.

“Anything ?” she asked. “You said … anything ?”

Susan seemed to regret her words now. But she composed herself. She swallowed and looked tearfully into Melanie’s eyes.

“Yes … anything.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Dylan was surfing the net in his room, idly checking out the free porno pages when he came across the photo. At first he couldn’t believe the likeness. He clicked through and found several more. Oh man ! He should tell somebody. But first … he hit the printer menu. While the colour photos chuntered out, he couldn’t help reaching down to his dick.

Ryan Cumber was his classmate at college and Ryan’s mom Susan was the hottest MILF groin candy of all. And here she was fuckin’ and suckin’ like some two dime Eastern European or Latina pro.

It was definitely her face and her body. Sometimes these sites fucked around and cut and pasted heads onto different bodies but those sure were her big tits swinging around on some black dude’s legs as she sucked him off. Susan Cumber being spit roasted on a friggin’ sunbed, man !

After he’d mopped himself up with a tissue, Dylan couldn’t resist it. Just one person wouldn’t hurt. He pasted the URL onto his screen and emailed the link to Greg.

Greg was his best mate and another fan of Ryan Cumber’s mommy.

He smiled as he imagined him opening up the page.

Should he tell the police ? Nah, best not to get involved.

They’d surely find the photos soon enough.

 

*** *** ***

 

Gator’s six feet five frame was naked on the poolside workbench in the early morning sunshine. He was on his back, bench-pressing some heavy weights, his muscles glistening with sweat and oil. In the pool, several of the Reptiles were swimming laps, while others were chatting on the deck, drinking juice and coffee. Physical fitness was a key requirement for a top rung soldier of fortune.

The clinging stink of pungent male body odour was strong. Gator hadn’t showered in two days and he was driving up the bar with animal grunts and groans of effort.

Viper was playing his ‘buddy’, stood next to the bench, ready to support the heavy bar if Gator lost control.

And then, between Gator’s widespread thighs, kneeling at the end of the bench, was Lorna Cumber. His female ‘buddy’.

Her role was to genuflect in complete silence on the state of Gator’s damp, hirsute and unwashed anus. The 23 year old beauty was kneeling with her face pushed in between his thighs, her pink tongue lapping and her arms meekly held behind her back.

She worked in complete silence. It was her only chance of saving her fiancé’s balls. One word, one slip up from her, and young Gene’s baby-making kit would be a couple of scraps for the wild African dogs to fight over.

So Gene was naturally watching the scene with a fair degree of interest. He was strung up naked a few feet from the workbench so that he could have a ringside view of Lorna’s efforts on his behalf. A grubby towel dangled from his own erection. He watched in complete silence like her, since one word from him, even just one noisy breath, or if his erection softened and the towel fell to the ground, and he had been threatened with castration.

Gene and Lorna were the first prisoners to enjoy each other’s company since the kidnapping. Well, after all, this was the couples’ honeymoon.

Gator thrust the bar up and held it locked for the twentieth time, wobbling.

“You can do it.” Viper encouraged.

Gator grunted and heaved so hard he noisily passed gas.

“Well …” he grimaced at Viper, “… you said I could !”

Both men laughed and peered down at Lorna. She recoiled and her hazel eyes had burst open wide in horror.

Viper shrugged and casually drew a 9-inch knife from his belt, starting to move meaningfully towards Gene.

In a second, Lorna had plunged her face back and recommenced tonguing and kissing Gator’s hairy butt as if it was delicious frozen yoghurt.

Viper stood threatening Gene, while sneering over at Lorna.

“What a slut.” He shook his head. “Kid, we did you a favour, saving you from spending the rest of your poor life with that toilet face.”

Gator hoisted the weights bar into the steel supports.

“You gonna fuck our young bride now ?” Viper asked him.

“Nah.” Gator replied. He rose gingerly from the bench and removed his towel from Gene’s erection, using it to wipe the perspiration from his face and forearms. “I’m saving myself for later. When the real fun begins.”

“In that case …” Viper said, hauling Lorna up by her dark hair and slamming her face down onto the workbench, so she whimpered.

He shucked down his shorts to reveal a semi-hard penis stiffening by the second. Then he crouched behind her and pulled her hips up so that he could fuck her from behind while she faced her ex-boyfriend.

Gator nonchalantly hung his towel back onto Gene’s peg, looking right into his red-rimmed eyes.

“You watch how a real man does it kid. Just in case you get the chance again sometime.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Susan Cumber squealed every few seconds. She was standing legs akimbo in front of Charlie and Melanie plucking out her own triangle of soft pubic fuzz with tweezers, hair by hair. Her collar and cuffs didn’t match perfectly. Her tresses were platinum blonde while her pubes were a kind of medium honey colour. She winced as she depilated herself.

Her tormentors were sat at a table on their private roof terrace overlooking the palm garden and desert beyond. They were eating croissants, date pastries and fruit, sipping black coffee, chatting quietly, ignoring her. Occasionally Melanie would glance at her and ‘tut’ when her squeaks and ‘ouchs’ got too loud, or she slowed down.

Eventually, Susan’s pouting mound was scarlet hued and virtually bald.

 

“Stand over there” Charlie said, lighting a cigarette and rising from the table. He was naked but for an open cotton shirt that was unbuttoned. His penis hung temporarily sated after he and Melanie had made passionate love together earlier, a nice contrast to the rape and violence all around them.

He reached up and pulled down a set of chains that hung from the cross beam that supported the terrace sunblind. With practised hands he quickly fastened her wrists so Susan was suspended, now stretched up onto her tip toes.

“Have you ever seen a movie called Sophie’s Choice ?” he asked.

“Meryl Streep played Sophie.” Melanie added helpfully.

Susan shook her head. “N … no.”

“Oh, it was quite good as far as I recall.” Melanie said, peeling a banana. “In it, Sophie has to choose which one of her children to save. The other she loses forever. It’s very moving.”

“No …” Susan whispered. “You wouldn’t. No …”

Melanie took a sensuous, suggestive bite of banana, taking her time before replying. She too was in just a cotton top, open to the midriff, her thighs uncovered. She had allowed a translucent trickle of Charlie’s semen to ooze onto the tiles under her chair without any embarrassment.

“Last night you said you’d do anything, right ?”

“Yes.”

“Well, soon you will get your chance.”

There was a silence while both women stared grimly at each other.

“In a little while, we’re all going to gather round the swimming pool. And you’re going to invite everybody to fuck your daughters.”

“You …!” Susan quickly stopped herself, controlling her outrage.

Melanie chuckled. “I see you’re learning. But too late. You’ll pay later for that little outburst. If you fail to say exactly what we want, then … well … um, you really don’t want to think about that.”

She took another bite of banana, pausing for effect.

“And after your little sluts have all been fucked many times, you will get the chance to save one of them. It will be interesting to hear your choice !”

 

*** *** ***

 

John Cumber woke in a terrible sweat. He looked over in the dark at the digital clock; 03.37. He had managed to catnap for three tablet-induced hours. His normally sharp brain was already suffering from lack of sleep.

The nightmare was a terrible one. Susan was on a brightly lit stage having rough sex with three men while he and all their children, and their extended family, friends and colleagues were sat in the theatre audience watching.

And he had opened his zip, was masturbating himself in the dark while he watched his wife, dressed in torn black lingerie of the type she never wore anymore, performing with these men. And suddenly a bright spotlight shines down on him without warning, and the entire audience sees what he is doing, and they all start to titter. Even his children are chuckling at him as Ryan leans over and says ‘put it away, dad’.

He woke up, painfully erect, and had to go to the bathroom to urinate.

Afterwards he lay in the dark, trying but failing to sleep some more.

At exactly 04.00 the phone by his bedside trilled. He fumbled in the dark for the handset and peered at the digital display. It was blank.

“Yes.” He said, assuming there had been developments in the case.

“Mr. Cumber. Rise and shine, or … were you awake already ?”

His heart stopped and the phone felt cold and clammy in his palm.

“Who is this ?”

“Oh, come on, John. You know me. You can call me the Chameleon. You know about Chameleons, John ? We’re lizards that can change our skin when we need to.”

John sat up bolt upright in bed. The voice was male, American, quite youthful but composed, taunting.

“Now listen here you motherfucker …”

“Sssshhh … John. Actually that’s very good. Motherfucker ? I suppose I am ! Anyway, don’t waste our time together. I’m calling from a location you can’t trace and using a rather special phone but, nevertheless, I’m only going to stay talking for one minute just in case. The reason for my call is to say well done so far. You kept my shares above 15 dollars, didn’t you ? Now, do you have my billion dollars ready for me ?”

John felt the plastic handset cracking in his grip.

“Yes.”

“Good. In that case I will send you instructions later today about how to wire me the money. I’ll be very specific. As you know, I never give unclear instructions.”

“How will you contact me ?”

“Oooh, don’t worry your handsome head about that yet.”

John looked at the luminous second hand of his watch. Over forty seconds had passed.

“How is my wife, you bastard. And my family ?”

There was a silence, just deep breathing.

“Please … Tell me !”

“Actually your wife is really a surprisingly good fuck, John.”

“You bastard !”

“Well it’s funny you should call me that too. Anyway, I want you to ask me nicely to fuck your wife again.”

John roared with rage. “You …!”

“Sssssshhh …” The voice interrupted. “In that case I shall fuck your daughters. In their arses.”

“Noooh !”

The man on the end of the line made a ‘tch !’ sound. “Can’t have it both ways, John, it’s either your wife or girlies, which is it to be ?”

“You fuckhead, I will kill you.”

“Maybe John, but I doubt it. Well, time’s up. I guess I’m gonna have to fuck all three of them …”

“No ! Wait !”

“Gotta go. Catch you later.”

“Please … f … please … fuck … my wife.” He bellowed.

“Goood.” The voice teased. “That wasn’t so difficult was it ? Okay, I’ll give her one from you. And we’ll continue our little chat soon.”

John stared at his watch trying to think how to keep the conversation going but all he heard were three more words.

“Bye for now.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Lorna knelt motionless and silent on the tiled floor. She held her eyes and mouth wide open. A small acidic burp repeated on her, making her throat gag and triggering yet another wave of nausea. There were no shackles or ropes holding her anymore, no spider gags or dental breaches. She was simply being ‘conditioned’ to do exactly as she had been ordered.

A human latrine.

The door opened and one of the mercenaries entered the small, humid room. He was the shaven headed black one they called Cobra, with his huge frame and belly.

He whistled and stood with his feet apart in front of her, unzipping his jeans.

She looked up into his cruel brown eyes obediently, keeping her lips as wide as possible and her tongue flat on her lower gums to receive him. She knew what was coming. She dreaded it. No amount of times made it better or easier. Just the stench of urine made her feel light headed and her throat gagged; the sharp, sour taste and the acid after-burn that exploded up through her nose making her eyes water.

He grinned down at her and carefully uncoiled his soft but huge penis onto her tongue.

She knew his flow would be hot as it funnelled down her throat and windpipe and descended all the way to her stomach, prompting bitter little burps that would recur afterwards, bile bubbling back up like a geyser.

Worse was how she had already started to differentiate between the different men and their taste and how they varied according to the time of day. Mornings were worst.

She felt the first fiery squirt against her tonsils.

“Mmmm …” she heard him exhale, treating her as nothing but his urinal.

The rational, proud side of her brain screamed; no !

But the emotional, humiliated side somehow accepts she has no choice, petrified by what might happen to her if she pulls her mouth away. Frightened for Gene, and Mom, and Rach’ and Ryan. But mostly for herself and the pain of what they might do.

So Lorna knelt and felt it racing into her gullet, making her eyes stream, trying not to choke as she swallowed rapidly and it kept filling her mouth, the horrible acrid tang somehow even worse than she remembered from the previous visitor just ten minutes before this.

A little frothed over her lips and down her chin but, somehow, she managed to keep guzzling until he had finished. She was convinced they all waited until their bladders were over-full before visiting her. He farted loudly as he shook the last drips from the end of his length onto her tongue before tucking himself back into his jeans.

Then he turned, completely ignoring her, and walked back out into the sunshine.

 

*** *** ***

 

Doctor Wolfgang Ernst removed the rubber operating gloves and washed his hands. He usually preferred to operate in his own very private clinic on the shores of Lake Geneva but, for his good client and longstanding friend Mister Charles Victor, Wolfgang was happy to travel. He had spent 25 years specialising in … er … delicate procedures such as treating wounded mercenaries who were not able to visit official hospitals, and plastic surgery for criminals who wished to alter their appearance. This little operation had been straightforward.

Rachel Cumber’s overly modest 32B breasts had been substantially enhanced. He smiled down at the sleeping blonde who would soon be coming round from the light anaesthetic he had used. Her pretty face was still coated in the semen he had ejaculated over her nose and lips once she was out cold. Amusingly, she was younger than Wolfgang’s own daughter.

Sure, breast augmentation techniques usually recommend an increase of one or, at most, two bra cup sizes. However, he felt that the substantial silicone implants he had utilized to endow the slim 21 year old with 40FF monsters would soon settle down and cause no problems.

He admired the neat 2-inch long incisions his scalpel had made in the underside crease of each breast, now sutured with dissolvable stitches. Before the operation, the measurement round her full breasts had been a measly couple of inches more than the band measurement round her torso underneath her bust.

Now the difference was a splendid 8 inches ! He smiled; ‘udders’. The Americans had such a fixation with big udders.

The girl would feel uncomfortable for a few days and her breasts would initially be tender, swollen and unnaturally firm, but he was certain it would not take long for her to recover fully from the physical effects of the operation.

Of course, the mental effects might be another matter.

 

*** *** ***

 

Lenny grinned.

This was all too easy. Soon he’d be on a plane outta here and then he could relax and enjoy the charms of the two Cumber girls.

And he’d be a multi-millionaire. Aged just thirty.

He’d give John Cumber specific instructions how to wire the money via the internet into the master account.

It was an innocent, virgin, 8-digit numbered St. Vincent bank account that would automatically close as soon as it had received and instantaneously passed on the billion dollars.

It would split the money into ten tranches and transfer them to ten numbered bank accounts in various places including the Cayman Islands, Costa Rica, Anguilla, Turks and Caicos, Panama and Belize.

In turn, those accounts would split the money into different, smaller amounts and send it across the water to the likes of Jersey, Liechtenstein, the Isle of Man, Gibraltar, Cyprus and Andorra.

They would repackage it up into altered amounts again and transfer it to accounts in Macau, Marianas, Vanuatu, Nauru, Labuan and Liberia.

Then the whole lot would go berserk, batching, slicing, exchanging, splitting and regrouping the money into and out of several hundred anonymous accounts around the world. Some of the accounts had been opened a long time and operated innocently for years, so they wouldn’t attract anybody’s attention.

Years of planning.

By the time the whole steaming bowl of financial spaghetti had been served and covered with a sauce of dummy accounts, closed accounts, transfers, reverse transfers, conversion into Euros, Yen, Sterling and Swiss Francs, and a few laundering tricks that only the very best people knew, the billion dollars ransom would be as shiny as a new pin.

Much of it residing, like some fat cat tax exile, in oh-so-respectable Switzerland.

It was only fair.

His inheritance.

 

 

 

END OF PART FIVE

BY VELVETGLOVE

 

 

CONTINUED IN PART SIX

‘Six Chambered Heart’

TO BE POSTED SOON