tagNovels and NovellasThe Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 18c

The Paul & Jenny Stories Pt. 18c

byPAUL C©

Part 3.

I battled through the traffic in the middle of Bristol and out through the north of the City until I reached the motorway to London. I had seen Jenny drive off first across the high downs heading past the airport then south to Taunton. The traffic was comparatively light and I was making good time. I had done the journey from my house in Bristol to the apartment in Chiswick in a little over two hours once, but that had been very early on a Sunday morning and getting through Bristol had taken less than twenty minutes. I still thought I would do it in two and half-hours.

The engine of the Morgan was purring gently. The Speedo read just under seventy. Fast enough for me today. The sky had never really cleared all day. It had darkened and rained at times then brightened slightly but never really cleared. My mood was sinking into the greyness that surrounded me.

It was raining again now. I switched on my wipers and headlights. It was suddenly becoming very dark.

I looked at the dashboard clock. One-thirty. Jenny would be there by now. I turned on the radio. Horse-racing. Not really an audio sport. I pressed one of the preset buttons. Music. Pop music. I began to sing along.

Why had I agreed to go? There was little I wanted to do less than fly half way around the world. Spend a night in a Hotel and then fly all the way back again. It could be worse I supposed. But at the present I couldn't see how.

I turned up the volume on the radio to drown out the pit, pit, pat of the rain on the fabric cover above my head. The windscreen wipers were moving at full speed but didn't seem to be having much effect on the rain. I slowed to fifty-five and pulled in behind a large lorry.

The effect of his spray and the rain cut my visibility even more so I pulled back out again and accelerated past him. It was foul weather to be driving in. Perhaps a few days in the sun wouldn't be too bad after all.

It was getting lighter suddenly. The rain was easing. I could just see the massive walls of Windsor Castle to my right. Then it was gone. A movement to my right caught my eye and I saw a jet airliner lifting into the air from Heathrow airport. This meant I would be there in thirty minutes.

I yawned and stretched. There was never enough room in this car. It was great for short trips onto the downs on warm summer evenings with the roof down. It was great sitting in the passenger seat with Jenny riding up and down upon my prick. But it was cramped for driving any distance in.

I left the motorway at its last junction and turned onto the road that led to my apartment. Or block of apartments to be precise. My great uncle Alistair had bought one in the late twenties after he had married his long time love Natasha. Slowly, over the years, they had acquired all six in the block. When Natasha had died she had left them all to me. Four were currently let; Hudson, who had been my father's Sergeant during the war, used one. He acted as a kind of caretaker. One of the top-floor apartments we kept for our own use or to impress clients of my father's accountancy firm. It could be a lonely place if you were staying in it alone. Still, the income I received more than paid for their upkeep.

I turned off the main road past the restaurant and again into the car park at the rear of the apartments. It was only two-thirty but there were lights on in every apartment, including ours. Hudson must be stocking up the cupboards and fridge.

I parked the car, took my imitation black leather coat off the front seat and my suitcase from the boot, locked the doors and walked around to the front entrance. Three steps up to the twin glass doors that opened onto the foyer. Hudson had insisted on a small counter in front of the door to his apartment. Opposite were the stairs leading up to the apartments above and the door that hid the flight that led down to the cellars. Next to the stairs was the lift, its doors stood open. I went to Hudson's counter and pushed the button that rang the bell inside his apartment. I heard it ring and waited. He didn't show after a minute so I carried my suitcase into the lift.

"Hold it please." A voice called.

A young woman of perhaps five feet eight in height and similar age to myself stepped into the lift. She had bouncy, curly hair. A shade too dark to be called blond. She had green eyes. I couldn't remember seeing a woman before with green eyes.


She looked down at my suitcase.

"I'm going to the top." I said.

"Same here." She replied.

It was hard to place her accent. Home counties with a slight brrr to her rs. Not as pronounced as Jenny's Gloucestershire or my Somerset accents.

She looked down at my suitcase again as the lift started to rise. I supposed an explanation of some sort was due.

"My name is Paul Wagstaffe." I said. "I'm staying in the flat tonight."

"Oh." She seemed impressed. "That must mean that you are the owner of the building." "Yes." I agreed. "I suppose so."

"I'm Heather."

The lift stopped and I opened the doors.

"I'm just visiting with my sister." She continued. "Will you want me to pay rent as well?"

"No." I was shocked she should suggest it. "No. Not at all."

"Well I have been here a little while and Sandy wasn't too sure of the terms of the lease."

I had met Sandy once or twice. She would be around thirty and had written a romantic novel. Her husband, Greg was a banker or something in the city. He was American and was on a fixed term contract for three years and his company had leased the apartment for them. Come to think of it, I wasn't too sure of the terms of their lease.

"Well. It's nice to meet you Heather."

I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door to my apartment.

Heather was still there watching me.

"Do you want to come around for a drink later?" She asked suddenly.

"I don't know what I'm doing tonight yet." I replied, not sure that I really wanted to make any commitments.

"Don't look so worried." She laughed. "I'm not trying to pick you up. It's just that Sandy and Greg are away for a week and I would be all alone."

Her voice suddenly sounded all little girl and helpless.

"I'll see what I can do." I said. "I have to make some phone calls."

I backed into the apartment and into the lounge. She was following me.

"It's much bigger in here then it is in Sandy's," she observed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come in uninvited."

"That's alright." I stumbled over the words whilst looking around and hoping Hudson would be there. "Make yourself at home."

"You don't mind if I?" I continued and indicated the door to the main bedroom with my suitcase.

"No. Carry on." She walked over to the piano at the far end of the room. "I'm told you play very well."

I opened the door to the bedroom and threw my coat and suitcase onto the bed.

"I do play." I confirmed. "Can I get you a drink?"

"What are you going to have?"

"Just tea." It suddenly felt inadequate.

"Tea would be lovely."

I went into the kitchen and filled the kettle and plugged it in to boil. There were mugs on the wooden tree so I took two down and placed a teabag in each.

I went back into the lounge.

"Do you take sugar?"

"No thank you." She replied examining one of the oil paintings that hung on a wall. "They say I'm sweet enough."

She smiled at me.

I went back into the kitchen and made the tea. When I returned her coat was hanging on one of the hooks in the passage from front door to lounge and she was sitting on one end of one of the two large sofas the stood facing each other over a large glass-topped coffee table.

"It's very nice here." She remarked, taking the offered mug and holding it while I fetched two coasters from the top of the sideboard that stood between two of the bedroom doors.

"Why are you only here for tonight?" She asked. "Tell me off if I'm being nosy."

She kicked off her shoes and lifted her feet onto the sofa beside her.

"I have to go to South America." I explained. "To collect my grandfather and his friend."

I sat on the sofa opposite from her. The hem of her skirt reached to three-quarters of the way to her knees. She was holding the hem between her fingertips and thumb. Twisting it this way and that.

"You were saying."

I dragged my eyes up to her smiling face. I could feel my prick growing inside my trousers.

"Hmm." I cleared my throat. "Yes. They went down there on business. But there is trouble in the country. Some sort of rebellion."

My eyes were drawn back to the slow movements of her fingers.

"I've been sent to go and bring them back home before they get into any trouble." I continued.

"I think it is very brave of you to go all that way."

"Oh. There's no danger." I assured her. "The trouble is way down in the south of the country."

"I still think you're very brave."

I glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly three-fifteen. I had to make some phone calls.

"I have to make some phone calls." I said.

"Alright." She replied, making no attempt at leaving.

I went to the phone on the sideboard and dialled my parent's number.

"Hello." Jenny's voice rang in my ear.

"Hello." I replied.

"We were starting to get worried. We thought you would have arrived ages ago."

"I've been here a little while."

"What have you been doing?"

"Just chatting." I looked in the glass front of the clock on the wall at Heather's reflection. I could see more of her legs from this position.

"Who with?"

"The people in the apartment opposite."

Heather lifted one of her legs. She was scratching the inside of her lower thigh.

"Oh, Sandy and Greg?"

"Her sister, Heather, actually."

"What's she like?"

"Fine."

"Is she there?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." She could make the simplest of noises sound awesome.

"I'm going to ring the other number now." I tried to change the subject.

"Look." Heather said, standing up behind me. "I have to go. Thanks a lot for the tea. Perhaps I'll see you later."

"What did she mean by that?" Jenny asked, loudly.

"Goodbye." I stammered to Heather. "Can you find your way out?"

"I think so." She smiled. "See you later."

"What was that?" Jenny asked.

"I've been invited for a drink tonight."

"Will you go?"

"No."

"Why? What's she like."

I yawned.

"I think I'll have an early night. I've had a busy day."

"What?" There was a pause. "Oh yes. You were a little busy earlier."

"I had better ring this man."

"Yes you had. Ring again later."

"Ok. Bye."

I put the phone down, picked it up and dialled the number on the piece of paper I took from my jeans pocket.

The phone was answered in Spanish. I gave a name. There was a pause.

"Senor Wagstaffe." Came a voice from the other end of the line. "I have been expecting you. You have your passport?"

"Yes." I confirmed.

"Come to this address."

I opened the top right hand drawer of the sideboard and took out some sheets of writing paper and a pen.

I wrote down the address. Grover Place.

"If you could be here shortly?" He suggested.

"I'll come right away." I assured him.

After a hurried goodbye I put down the phone again. It was all go, go, go.

I went into the bedroom and quickly changed from my jeans and jumper into a pair of slacks and a jacket. I knotted a tie around my neck placed my keys, change, wallet and passport into various pockets and headed out through the door.

Heather was standing in front of the lift door.

She had a pretty smile. She used it now.

"Can I come with you?" She asked suddenly. "I'm so bored here with everyone away."

I couldn't really think of a reason why she couldn't and I didn't really have time to argue.

"I'm only going to get my passport visa'd."

"Don't move." She said suddenly, turning towards the door of her apartment. "I'll be right back."

She had the door open and was inside before I could say a word. The lift was moving behind me. The doors opened and Hudson stepped out carrying a box. I could see the neck of two bottles of wine sticking out of it.

"Ah." He said. "There you are, Paul."

"Hello." I replied. "I'm just off to get my passport stamped."

"Yes." I used my key to unlock the door of the apartment for him and followed him into the kitchen. He placed his box on the small table and started to unpack it. "Your father said you would be."

He was placing eggs, bacon and a bottle of milk in the fridge. One wine bottle followed. The second, a red, he placed in the wooden wine rack on the unit top.

"You eating here, tonight?" He asked.

He was holding two toilet rolls. "No. At the restaurant probably."

He placed the toilet rolls beside the box and took out a loaf of bread.

"Hello." Heather's voice came from the doorway. "Are you ready."

"Heather's coming with me." I explained to Hudson's raised eyebrow. "Just for the ride."

We left him standing in the middle of the kitchen and took the lift to the ground floor.

"This is exciting." Heather said as I held the front door open for her. "I feel like a spy."

"I don't think there is anything to get excited." I replied as we walked to the rear of the building.

It was starting to spit with rain. The streetlights were on. I opened the passenger door of the Morgan and watched as her thighs flashed at me as she took her seat.

"It's not too warm." She observed as I climbed in behind the steering wheel.

I wish I 'd brought my coat now as I watched her snuggling deeper into hers.

"I'll turn the heating up." I said switching on the ignition.

It was only a fifteen-minute drive to Grover Place. It took me another ten to find a parking place. It would have been quicker by tube.

We crossed the road and walked up to the doors of a large double fronted building. Heather linked arms with me as the door opened slightly to my ring of the bell. I gave the name of the man I had come to see and we were ushered quickly inside and the door closed behind us.

"This way please." The man said in English and we followed him up a wide flight of stairs to a room on the first floor.

Heather's arm slid down the inside of my own until her fingers found mine. I should really of shaken them off but the door in front of us was opening.

"Mr Wagstaffe." A man in his late fifties was rising from behind a large, polished desk and advancing upon us with an out-stretched hand.

I introduced Heather as Heather. I realised I didn't know her surname.

"If you have your passport?" The man asked.

I took mine from the inside pocket of my jacket and handed it across. Heather did the same.

"I'm going with him." She said.

The man shrugged and, taking the passports asked us to take a seat and left the office through a side door.

"What did you mean by that?" I asked, for some reason talking in a hushed tone.

"Oh. It will be fun." She smiled at me. "Let me. Please."

"We haven't got time to book tickets or hotel rooms."

"Hudson will do it." She assured me. "He's very good at those things."

The door opened and the man returned carrying our passports and a small briefcase.

"I have a small favour to ask you in return Mr Wagstaffe." The man said handing us our passports and placing the briefcase on his desk.

I looked at the case then at him.

"Yes." I replied. "If I can."

"I would like you to take this case with you and hand it to a gentleman who will come to your hotel room on Tuesday evening." He fiddled with the handle of the briefcase for a second then continued. "It contains some routine documentation that we would normally send by courier. As you are going I wondered if you wouldn't taking it for me and saving us the time and expense of sending a man."

My doubts must have shown on my face.

"Do not worry." He was smiling reassuringly. "There is nothing sinister about it. If you do not wish to do this for us it is of no importance."

"I think it is the least we can do." Heather said suddenly. "The gentleman has been very helpful to us."

I found myself agreeing. I picked up the briefcase whilst Heather folded a sheet of paper the man proffered and placed it in her handbag.

There was to be no time for pleasantries it seemed and the man escorted us to the door of his office and handed us over to another man to show us out.

The air outside suddenly tasted fresher than I remembered. We drove back to the apartments and I carried the briefcase inside.

Hudson was standing outside the door to his apartment.

"I wonder if you could do something for us?" I asked and explained about Heather going with me.

She handed him her passport and we took the lift to the top floor. It was nearly dark outside so I pulled the curtains closed.

I took off my jacket and tie and sat down on the sofa. It had been a busy day. I kicked off my shoes and lifted my legs up and lay out flat. A very busy day. I smiled as I remembered looking down on Jenny's head as she had work my prick in and out of her mouth. I could feel it growing. I rubbed it through my trousers. It was getting cramped in there so I undid my belt and trouser top and unzipped myself. That felt better. I reached inside the top of my underpants and pulled my prick and balls free. I looked down at it. I could see it growing. I stroked it. Pulling back my foreskin to its fullest extent before watching it slide back up to cover the head.

That felt good. Holding it between the thumb and first three fingers of my hand I began stroking in earnest. I lifted my ass from the sofa and with my other hand pushed my bottom clothing down and pulled my shirt up. I cupped my balls as I stroked, closing my eyes to create a fantasy in my mind. It wasn't Jenny's mouth that my prick was moving in and out of it was Heather's.

I breathed deeply. Then groaned out loud.

My thighs were twitching. In my mind Heather's fingers were stroking faster. Then faster still. I could feel myself building. I was coming. Coming.

I looked down as my sperm shot out of the end of my prick to land upon my belly. Twice, three, four times it jerked in my hand. I worked my foreskin back and forth, revelling in the sensations I was receiving. I was empty. My prick was soft.

I let it fall. I should clean myself up but it felt so nice lying there and it had been a busy day. I'd do it in a minute.

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