Debauchery Pt. 03

Shanti shook her head. "Nope. I don't like men."

"Alfie is a wonder!"

"He's a man. Enough said. Drop it, please."

I watched her face. She was serious. This was a topic she didn't want to talk about. "Okay. But you like girls, right? Pretty little girls like me?"

She grinned and grabbed my ass, hard. Her fingers impossibly strong. Like a man's. I shuddered at the pleasure.

I kissed her and we necked for a time. Lost in our mouths and tongues and exploring hands. My life was surrounded by sex. I had sex all the time now. Almost constantly. And I never grew tired of it, rather I found myself wanting more and more. I thought to my bed and the three people in it. I could just go in there and devour them all.

My pussy grew wet as I rubbed it on Shanti's thigh.

"You're soaking my pant leg, Angela," she said into my mouth.

With a gasp I got off her and looked down. Sure enough, I had left a large wet patch on her blue jeans. "I'm so sorry!" I said, mortified.

Shanti grabbed my hips, spun me around, pushed on my back, and I fell forward, bracing my arms on the table. Her mouth closed on my pussy and licked deep. She slurped at my wetness and then settled in to pleasure me. In no time at all, I came on her mouth.

She pulled me back onto her lap and held me, kissing the nape of my neck. I could sense her need to dominate me. Possess me. I liked it. She pulled open my robe and cupped and stroked my breasts. We stared out the window and watched people down below walking in the park. Every second person had a small dog.

We stayed that way for about an hour. She talked about growing up in London. About joining the military, something she had been forced into, but wouldn't elaborate on why. And how the military had been her true calling. Landing on the special task force with the ICC had been her reward from the Crown for her exemplary service. She loved it and I asked why.

"Because it lets me hold a living, breathing, Barbie doll like you in my arms. I can still taste your pussy on my mouth. Your tits are spectacular. What job gives perks like this?"

"You say such the nicest things," I grumbled.

She twisted a nipple painfully. "Less cheek."

"Shanti?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not one of your girls, hon."

"Sorry, I get carried away sometimes."

"I like it, just not in this way. A time and place, okay?" I could sense her need to dominate me. I could play the submissive if she needed it. It wouldn't bother me. But not anytime she wanted it. I had to set boundaries.

"Okay."

There was a knock at the doors to the suite. Shanti told me to go into the bedroom and wait.

"Why?"

"Just do as I say. Go to the bedroom."

"It's just room service."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Go to the bedroom. Now!"

Her last word had me scurrying. I fled into the bedroom wondering what the hell was going on. Imani stirred and sat up and looked groggily at me.

"What's going on?"

"Shanti just kicked me into the bedroom. Room service is here."

Imani grinned and flopped her head back down. "You'll get used to it. Shanti never fucks around. She'll clear it and let you know when it's safe to come out. Come back to bed... Wait, did you say room service?"

"Yes."

"I am so fucking hungry. Did you order for everyone?"

I told her yes and detailed the menu.

Imani shook Alfie and Marcia. "Wake up! Food is here! Time to rise and shine, muppets."

Chapter Twelve -- Mayfair for Sale or Rent

The meal was spectacular. I sent pictures to Scott back home. A little while later the door knocked again, and after Shanti cleared it, we met the head chef who had prepared our food. Scott had contacted him, and he stood beaming as we covered him in praises.

We washed up, and then dressed up. At ten in the evening, after a few games of a card game Imani called Whist, Shanti said the limo would be soon arriving and we headed down to the lobby. Guests stopped at stared at us. I guess we made quite the sight. Four gorgeous women, one looking like a brick--but oh so hot--shithouse, hanging off a strange, skinny, goth kid. Alfie was living the dream. His smile was a mile wide. It also took notice off the rest of us.

Shanti cleared the limo and driver and we poured into the backseat. Marcia found the champagne and we all squealed when the cork popped free. The limo sped off and I found myself pressed up against the glass window, sipping champagne, and staring out at the London night life. It was spectacular.

Imani announced we had entered the Mayfair neighbourhood in London. I could see a number of exclusive clubs that Imani said were frequented by the British, Bollywood, and Hollywood celebs. We pulled up to a brick-building, which looked hundreds of years old. Stanchions with red velvet ropes marked the entrance. A large wooden door, intricately carved, looked ominous as we piled out of the limo.

I walked up to the door and pressed the ringer. I heard an electronic sound deep inside the building somewhere. We waited and then the door swung open. A man, dressed in what I could only describe as butler clothes, stood above me looking down at me on the step below him.

"Yes?" he intoned. His left eyebrow arched at me.

I disliked him immediately.

"I'm Angela Bradley. I'm expected."

"One moment," he said, his face showing displeasure, and he closed the door in my face.

I turned to the others, their faces showing the same disbelief as mine. The limo remained parked with the engine running. Imani shrugged.

"I thought Javier cleared this?" I said, just as the door opened again behind me.

"Ma'am," said the butler guy. "Please follow me."

He turned and stepped aside. We entered hesitantly and clustered in the large foyer. A wide set of ancient wooden stairs, covered with red plush carpet, rose, and split in two directions. The entranceway was opulent and expensive oil paintings covered the walls. Far too many paintings, I thought.

I could see a coat check to the left, with a small woman sitting behind the counter looking bored. I started to move toward it, but the butler stopped me.

"This way, please, ma'am," he said, and walked toward the back of the house. I frowned and glanced up at the stairs and then followed the man.

He said nothing more and we entered a narrow hallway with doors on either side. He led me to the one marked "Office" and knocked. I heard a muffled reply, and the butler opened the door.

"Mr. Osmond will see you now, ma'am. He is the owner of the establishment."

I glanced inside the door. I could see the beginnings of an office with bookcases on the far wall. The desk must be deeper inside, I thought. But I've had enough of this.

I stepped up to the butler and glared up at him. "I am the owner, you idiot."

The butler blinked and I saw red rush to his cheeks. "I... What?"

"You just fucked up, big time. Pack your things, you're fired."

The butler suddenly looked angry. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. I saw his hand begin to move and then he was on the ground. Shanti had one of his hands in hers and was twisting it. It had twisted his whole arm behind him, and he was barely on one knee as Shanti held him up. Her strength was remarkable.

The butler cried out in pain. I heard footsteps and looked over to see who I assumed was Mr. Osmond standing in the doorway looking horrified at what Shanti was doing to the butler guy.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS! Unhand Mr. Preston! This is outrageous! I'm calling the police!"

I turned to him, pleased that Shanti hadn't let go of the butler.

"Do you know who I am?" I said quietly.

Mr. Osmond looked between Mr. Preston and me. "You? Yes. The Bradley daughter. Of course, I know who you are."

"Then you know I own this establishment?"

He looked at me now. His eyes looked me over and I could see the disrespect there. I could see where Mr. Preston got it from. "Mr. Cox owns the establishment."

I smiled then. A satisfied smile. "No. I do."

The man snorted then. Any chance of redeeming himself vanished at that point with me. "Little girls shouldn't put on airs. Mr. Cox owns this establishment, I assure you. Now let go of Mr. Preston."

I looked at Shanti and nodded and she pushed Mr. Preston away from her. He fell to his knees and glared up at her. He started to rise but Shanti pressed her fingers into his shoulder and the man cried out in pain.

"I said let him go!" screeched Mr. Osmond.

"Shanti," I said. "Bring him into my office. We need to talk."

I walked past Mr. Osmond and into the office. It was rich and full of exquisite artwork. Books lined the walls, and I could see they were first or second editions of whatever they were. They looked old.

Mr. Osmond was sputtering. "I'm calling the police!"

I smiled then. "Please do. Alfie?"

Alfie nodded at me. He was in. His code whispered off into the ether and I relaxed. I looked around the office ignoring the cries from Mr. Osmond. Shanti has pushed Mr. Preston into a large leather chair and kept her hand on his shoulder.

I strolled around the desk and sat in the leather office chair. I sank into it. "Ooh, this is a wonderful chair."

"Young lady!" boomed Mr. Osmond. "I've had enough of this drama. Get out of my seat and get out of this establishment!"

I placed my hands flat on the desk. "My parents built this place. They build it with love and respect for the friends they invited in here. I had always assumed they had hired the best to run this in their absence. Mr. Cox was an excellent CEO until my parents died. I'm starting to get a feel for the harm he has done since the absence of my parents influence on their business. Did my parents hire you?"

Mr. Osmond was frowning. His eyebrows were horribly bushy. His gut was monstrous. He had jowls on his face. His lips were just a little too pink and moist. He was a repulsive man. "Yes, yes. Mr. Cox hired me a number of years ago. I have run this establishment freely with only the occasional report to Mr. Cox. He trusts me. He warned me about you."

"Warned you? How?"

"Said you might stick your nose in where it doesn't belong. Told me to see you on your way. It's time you left and went back home."

I looked around the office. There were some nice items in here that would look good in my manor. "I want to introduce you to my lawyer, Marcia Oliver. Next to her, the tall gorgeous Black woman, is Imani Jones. She's actually a member here. You might know her. She works for EDM Cessna, a law firm right here in London." I looked right at him and could see the colour drain from his face. "Mr. Cox is no longer the CEO of Bradley Consulting. I own it all lock, stock, and barrel. You might want to sit down."

He staggered to the seat beside Mr. Preston. He pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and mopped his brow. He glanced at Mr. Preston. Shanti, who stood between them, grinned down at them both and placed her free hand on Mr. Osmond's shoulder. He winced.

"You're both fired. Effective immediately."

Osmond and Preston sputtered.

Imani and Marcia joined me on my side of the desk. I watched Alfie settle in a distant chair and pull out his laptop.

Imani smiled at Osmond. "You just treated the daughter of the founders of this club with such disrespect. Didn't matter if she owned it or not. She deserved so much better than that, don't you think? Instead, you showed her disdain. I don't think you two fully understand the breach of courtesy you just displayed. Termination from her employment is the least of your worries."

Just then two large men burst in, pointing handguns at everyone and barking orders. It was chaos, and only calmed when Osmond explained to the men that I was the new owner. They didn't seem to want to believe him. They advanced on the desk and met Shanti, who they had ignored at their own peril.

They lay in a heap at the front of the desk. Shanti had done something to them, and she calmly disassembled the weapons and dropped the pieces on my desk in a pile.

Osmond whimpered. Preston looked furious. I looked calmly at the two men.

"Any other interruptions, gentlemen?" I asked.

Osmond shook his head and looked down at the pair of broken guards at his feet.

Imani chuckled and the sound was not pleasant. "You two are so fired. Worse, I will make sure you never find work like this again. Alfie? How's it going over there?"

"Um, good..."

"Good? Can you be more specific?"

"Oh, sorry. I'm in. Just gather details. I'm seeing flags on these two and a few others in here. Definite ties."

Imani grinned like a shark. "Well, well. LTG stooges. How lucky for me."

Osmond tried to bolt. I'll give him courage for that. I heard a loud snap, impossibly loud in the office, and Osmond fell screaming and clutching his right knee. Shanti had kicked him there. It hadn't looked like a hard kick at all, but the leg had bent sideways and collapsed under him. He was screaming in pain. Shanti reached down, put him in a choke hold and held it until the man went silent.

I looked at her pleading.

"He's fine. Just unconscious. His leg is fucked though. He'll never walk right again."

Imani snorted. "Not much walking in jail."

"True. Still. He keeps making bad choices," replied Shanti and looked at one of her nails.

I sat back in my chair and looked at Preston. "What do you do here?"

Preston still had a look of aggression on his face. He wasn't afraid. He seemed to think he would be fine. Imani had warned me about the power of the LTG. People who worked for them felt they were invincible. "Everything," he growled. "You blighters are right fucked."

Shanti chuckled. Her hand shot out and caught the man square on the nose. It exploded, reduced to paste. Blood erupted and I noted somewhere in the back of my uncomprehending mind, that Shanti shielded me from the blood. The man screeched in agony and his hands flew to his face.

"Mate, you're going first. You're just too stupid to realise it."

The man glared up at Shanti; his blood seemed to be everywhere and poured through his fingers. I felt nauseous even after Shanti had warned me it would likely lead to this.

Shanti spoke softly. "I'm a military specialist, you cunt. Our Queen sent me, mate. You and your friend here are going away into a very dark and very deep black ops hole. Every bit of information you have on the LTG will be extracted. Painfully. Slowly. You will lose pieces of your body. Fingers. Toes. Nose. Cock and balls. In the end, you will be buried in unmarked graves." Shanti squatted to look the man in the eyes. "Your deaths are a certainty. No threats. No mocking. A certainty. You poor fuck."

I could see the fear in the man's eyes now. He just figured everything out and far too late. His bluster faded. He sank in his chair. Shanti stood and moved away from him. He reacted and bolted from the chair and ran. We watched him. Shanti had told us he would run and to let him. He had a tracker on him now. Placed by Shanti but I never saw when. Her team was outside the building and would follow him closely. See where he went. Hopefully to expose others.

Alfie looked up and grinned into the silence. "Okay, lots and lots of data here. I'm gonna need a week by the looks of it. Sorry, Angie. It's a lot more data than I thought."

"No problem, Alfie. Have you found the next in line?"

"Yup. A Mr. Jonathan Parker. Hand selected by your mother several years back. He's been loyal and he appears clean."

"Send him in, please."

Alfie typed away at his laptop and then looked up and nodded. "He's wary, and he heard the noise. I assured him all is well, and the new owner wants to meet him. I dropped your name."

"Perfect, thanks Alfie."

In a few moments we heard a light knock on the door. Alfie rose and opened it. A rather tall and gangly man, as thin as Alfie, but with an unruly shock of reddish-brown hair, and thick glasses, peered in. He looked about and then locked his eyes on the still unconscious Mr. Osmond.

I rose from behind the desk. I could sense the fear in him, but also trusted my instincts that told me to trust this man. "Hi! I'm Angela Bradley. I think you knew my parents. IT's nice to meet you. Please ignore Mr. Osmond. He didn't take kindly to me taking control back of my business. He'll be leaving soon."

He stared at Osmond for a bit longer and then looked at me. I could see him searching my face and whatever he was looking for he found. His mouth opened in a wide smile that showed a remarkable number of large teeth. "Miss Bradley! We met once! About ten years ago. Your mum brought me out to Virginia Beach. I doubt you remember me. You wouldn't look up from a book you were reading." His accent was soft and dulcetly.

He strode forward and I noticed Shanti shift her posture a little. His arm and hand came out and grasped my hand gently.

"So nice to meet you, Miss Bradley. I take it a change of management has occurred? I must say, that pleases me greatly."

I indicted the seat behind him, and he sat and crossed his long legs in front of him. I sat and smiled at him. "Sorry, no, I don't remember you. But my mom hired you, and I get the same good feeling about you."

Jonathan blinked at that. "Your mum said the same thing to me when she hired me."

That pleased me to hear. "What do you do?"

He looked around at the others, except for Alfie who was still banging away at his laptop. "I serve the clients. Cater to their unique requirements. Make connections."

"I'm familiar with the business, Jonathan. Can I call you Jonathan? Call me Angela."

"Yes, please do, ah, Angela. Are you truly aware of the business?"

I nodded. "Oh, yes. Every little detail. I'm sorry to say, but I am here to close down this chapter."

"Close it down?" he gasped. "You can't! We have hundreds of clients!"

I smiled at him. "I'm consolidating. And I'm looking for employees from the chapters who can continue their good work. If you are interested, we can talk later about that. For now, I need to pick your brain about some things. This woman here is my lawyer, Marcia Oliver. Beside her is Imani Jones, another lawyer. The tough gal with blood on her hand is my..."

"Personal bodyguard," murmured Shanti, and I could somehow sense her hatred for that word with the tone she used.

Alfie looked up. "They're here."

Shanti nodded and left the room. We sat in silence and then several men, dressed as the London police, entered with Shanti, and hauled off Osmond and the two thugs. They were actually special forces members from Shanti's team. Osmond would never see daylight again and I shuddered in pity. I pushed it away. My mom and dad had trusted him, and the first chance he could, he betrayed their memory and legacy. He deserved what came next. The two thugs would be looking for employment elsewhere if they failed Alfie's screening.

I looked at Alfie. "Alfie, make sure Osmond's wife and children are cared for."

Jonathan looked surprised and looked back at Alfie, who he had ignored so far. "And you are?"

"My IT guy," I answered for Alfie.

Jonathan grinned. "Hello, IT. Have you tried turning it off and on again?"

Alfie looked up and grinned. "I'll just put this over here with the rest... of the fire." He mimicked holding a fire extinguisher.

I smiled now, too. They were quoting the IT Crowd TV show. "Ich bin ein nerd!"

Jonathan jerked his face to mine, looking surprised. "I came here to drink milk and kick ass, and I've just finished my milk."

What followed was proper introductions, laughter, and tales of our favourite BBC The IT Crowd episodes. I warmed to Jonathan. Imani and Shanti were in the corner talking and showing each other texts on their phones.

We talked for an hour and then Jonathan suggested we tour the facility.

Jonathan took us up the stairs and into a changing area. We were met by two women dressed in what looked like nursing uniforms.