Fashion is Our Name Pt. 13

For a second time, the bed was destroyed. Naked bodies yelled and hit at each other. I did my best to remain soft, but failed. What male would not be aroused by such play?

I retrieved more soda and found them sitting up, smiling and laughing, pointing at my erect cock. "You are not supposed to be using that."

"Yes. It's awful. I had better sleep on a mat in the other room."

Nicole pushed my head into a pillow and sat on my back. "It has been decided. In the morning, before sunup, you will ravish us. Rough sex for rough women. Do you understand?"

I closed my eyes. "Yes, mistresses."

It was still black in the apartment when the warm body next to me wiggled and a hand reached across my hip, searching for something hard. I turned into her, not fully hard, and licked a breast before finding the lips that belonged to it. Another body awakened and came looking for a stiff cock. He was not erect, so he was engulfed with warmth and wetness and tongue urging more male action.

No one felt the need to speak. Just four bodies under the cozy duvet, searching out the right places and parts. It was funny, whimsical and full of lust. Knowing each of them was wanting rough sex, my hands threw back the covers and administered whacks to hard butts, and not so soft nips at firm breasts. My hand found a bottom moist with juice and plunged the now properly hard cock fully in place. A tiny "Ahhh" sounded in the room.

These were very needy women. After each had come, they wanted more. They got more, my equipment rising to the occasion. I was going to be in severe trouble when knowledge of this little orgy got loose. I didn't care, providing kisses and words of loving as dawn illuminated us from the tall windows in the sewing room.

I had Sally and Helen in my arms, quivering and moaning as Nicole beat on pink behinds, proclaiming their sluthood.

"Yes, yes. We are terrible victims of his horrible cock."

I made coffee as my victims soaped each other in the shower with far too many giggles.

Sipping the steaming brew, I watched hair and faces being fixed and asked, "I don't suppose we can keep this little orgy among ourselves? My punishments will be severe if it gets out."

Nicole smiled at me, "Adrian, a woman can tell when another woman has had good sex. You can't try to lie your way out of this. Sit down and write slips for each of them, promising every delight when we get back."

The urge to take all three back to the bed was overwhelming, but I breathed deeply and agreed. "Yes. I'll do it now. You will restore the mess we made?"

With slips in my pocket, I was busy making departure lists at one of the sewing tables when footsteps approached and lips pressed themselves to the back of my neck.

"Nicole tells me you are off first thing tomorrow. I'm here to talk about the work list for the building while you are gone."

Pulling on an ear, she added, "And to warn you there are to be no heroics!"

I embraced her and repeated, "No heroics."

Nicole came with coffee and a kiss for our architect. "Adrian, give her one of your slips."

The next hours were busy with the whole crew in the building, attending to chores. I asked Clarissa to tell the workers they could have the afternoon off with pay so that we could talk and work freely.

Anne whispered in my ear that Adele wished to help, and had been given the assignment of a catered lunch, which arrived promptly at one o'clock. Checkered tablecloths on the sewing tables, fine food on china, and chilled white wine in crystal glasses provided a festive air that provoked dark humor comments about gallows and last meals. Al and Ben professed they had never been on an assignment with such posh eating.

In the afternoon, Jeremy and I and the drivers worked on the arrangements within the lorries. There were metal cases for provisions and large coolers for liquids. These were arranged under the seats for the passengers, leaving open space under the clothing racks for bodies to take shelter if necessary.

Jeremy explained that our weapons would be transferred from the accompanying disguised military vehicles once we were inside France. "Their people and our people have protocols for this sort of thing." His smile suggested perhaps not every time.

Upstairs, the women had been practicing their various travel clothing options. Fashionable hats with wide floppy brims did make it difficult to discern their faces, and the dark blouses and trousers made them all of a kind. The four men were impressed.

There were problems with the body armor, which was high quality, but unisex and one size. Almost an hour was consumed with adjusting straps and zippers. After a conversation with Jeremy, Sing told everyone, "While this business with the PA is being investigated, we will all wear the body armor when we leave the building tomorrow. It is uncomfortable and hard to disguise, but necessary until we know more."

Jeremy had a map case and we gathered around as he explained our primary and several alternate routes from the French side of the channel tunnel to the outskirts of Prague. Staying south of Luxembourg, and north of Stuttgart, it was about a dozen hours driving, or two easy days. We would leave London in the dark tomorrow, to avoid congestion at the train loading depot in Folkestone.

As the chore list shortened, the unease of waiting grew. Jeremy sent Al and Ben home early, telling them a government vehicle would collect them at three-thirty in the morning. I told him to take his own advice and we would see him early tomorrow. Clarissa and Adele were also hugged and sent on their way.

Sing and Sharon were leading calisthenics in the space with the mats. They each had identical charcoal bras and charcoal boy shorts on, and looked amazing. I stripped to my briefs, which were not charcoal and not boy shorts, and joined. This went well until they could not resist flattening me and arranging an arm or leg over my body.

I said, "Ladies, what would you say to dinner out, with no talk of the trip? Don't we need a little relaxation?"

I was pounded and prodded, signaling pleasure that the male was treating his six dates well. I added, "Don't wear your travel clothes, too much of a giveaway if eyes are watching."

Walking to the Tiger's Inn, it was agreed that we were celebrating Sally's success at being selected to play Portia, and my luck in being chosen to play her lover Bassanio.

Champagne was necessary, and delivered quickly by Sally's fellow waitress, Celia. On the fly, Sally concocted a story about the Globe and finding me, and needing time off from the Inn to study for her part in Merchant of Venice. I smiled and squeezed her knee under the table.

The food was great, the conversation was all about acting, and we strolled back to the apartment feeling relaxed and, I hoped, ready for whatever tomorrow would bring us. I straggled behind with Anne, who said, "I'm tired of all this preparation, Adrian. Dashing to the country and back today. Rushing over here to play catch up with the rest of you."

Keeping my voice low, I said, "No one knows you are a patient double agent, waiting for the right moment to make your move. Your disguise as the arrogant Duchess is impeccable."

She laughed and began loudly pummeling me as the others turned and watched. The FION team was strong.

(Cont'd in Part 14 - The Road to Prague)