Hidden Lives

Here is my latest effort. The story is quite long, but hopefully it will keep you amused. This work of fiction contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts that may upset some people and is definitely not suitable for persons under 18, so if that applies to you please move on. As always, any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely accidental. All characters are made up from my own warped imagination. The story belongs to me, so please do not use it without my consent. The story is written in a utopian World devoid of STD`s or unwanted pregnancies.

Thank you for taking the time to read as I am writing just for my own fun, so if you want to write a review I assure you that all will be read and digested in the hope of improving any future works. Best Wishes The Colonel.

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Chapter 1

Peter let out a satisfied sigh as Lee slipped off his body and his slimy dick exited his wife`s vagina as she settled down next to him, then snuggling into the crook of his arm. It had been customary over their five-year marriage, if Peter was off or on late shift, for Lee to wake him in this manner on her return from the night shift at the Childrens hospital where she worked as a nurse. Lee always seemed invigorated on her return from work, and rode him frenziedly until they both came loudly, their bodies moving and sweating in unison.

Peter kissed his wife on her short dark hair as her fingers played lazily with the strip of hair running from his navel to the thatch of wiry brown hair above his now limp penis. They had not spoken since Lee had woken him with her lips around his cock, then mounted his burgeoning hardness, grabbed two handfuls of his chest hair, and ground herself against him with an urgency that never ceased to surprise Peter.

After their intense and strenuous lovemaking, they were content to lie in each other's arms as their breathing returned to a more regular pattern. "How was the night?" he asked as his hand played with her hair.

Lee was quiet for a few beats then answered sadly, "Not so good. You remember I told you about Ali, the kid with Leukaemia?" Peter nodded silently as she added, "We lost him at three this morning. His parents were distraught."

"I can imagine." Peter now knew the reason for his wife's wild lovemaking. Whenever she "lost" a patient it was if she wanted to celebrate the fact that she was still alive. They had talked about having kids themselves, but Lee had always told him that she had seen so much misery in the hospital that she couldn`t bare it if that happened to their child, so she was quite happy to have thirty or forty different children every day rather than one of her own. For Peter he was not fussed one way or the other, so was happy for Lee to make the decision.

They lay entwined in silence for a few minutes longer, both with their own thoughts before Peter used the remote to switch on the massive flat screen TV attached to the wall at the end of the bed. The screen filled with a large picture of two women engaged in sex with a rather well-endowed man. Lee giggled and elbowed her husband in the ribs. "You dirty fucker!" she said between giggles. "I`m working my balls off and you're in bed wanking and watching porn!"

Peter gave an embarrassed snort. He had returned late from his shift last night and had indeed had a quick wank whilst watching the porn channel. He must have forgotten to switch channels before sleeping.

"Am I not enough for you?" Lee asked jovially as her hand encircled his flaccid dick causing it to stir in her palm.

Deciding to just confess he said, "Of course Darling, but I knew what was coming this morning so decided to have a quick wank so I would last longer. Everything I do is just to make you happy baby. I didn`t enjoy watching it at all." They both erupted into fits of laughter before Peter aggressively flung his wife onto her back and slid between her thighs as her hand fumbled his now rigid prick into her slimy snatch.

It was nearly ten minutes later when Peter used the TV remote to switch to the news channel. They watched as the weather forecast described a week of sporadic rain for the Capital where they both lived and worked, then Peter sat up with a start as the announcer said, "We have breaking news in the Chelsea Hargreaves story."

Peter listened intently as this was his case. He and his fellow detectives had been looking for the heiress for the past two days since she disappeared at the end of a day's shopping in the West End. The screen filled with a picture that he knew so well. The long blonde hair was tastefully styled, and her unblemished face looked much younger than the forty-five years that Peter knew her to be. She was a truly beautiful woman with a perfect oval face, high cheek bones and a small straight nose. Peter had seen other photos of Chelsea in a bikini that told him that her body was as perfect as her face. Long athletic legs. Flat tummy, peach shaped bottom and grapefruit sized breasts.

Chelsea Hargreaves had inherited the Hargreaves fortune on the death of her father ten years ago. The Hargreaves company was the largest sugar importer in the UK and her fortune was estimated to be North of one billion pounds. She had no children or siblings and was married to Ben Giles, an ex-Male model fifteen years her junior. They had been seemingly happily married for six years and shared a multi-million-pound apartment in Mayfair that was on three levels and over two hundred and fifty square yards, not counting the massive roof terrace with views over central London.

As Peter listened to the anchor woman tell him that a body had been found on Clapham Common that was believed to be that of the missing heiress his mobile buzzed on the nightstand.

"Peter!" came the tinny voice of Detective Superintendent Charlie Smithers.

"Yes Guv, I`m watching it now. Will be there in thirty!" He hung up and watched the rest of the report, with helicopter shots of a large white tent and figures moving around in white paper body suits on a patch of wasteland.

Peter showered quickly as he played over what he knew about the case. Her husband Ben had been immediately installed as the main suspect when he had reported her missing two days after she was last seen four days ago. He was quickly eliminated when it was discovered that he had spent the last few days shacked up with a model on a Coke, alcohol and sex binge that had lasted three days. He had been alibied by the model and the extensive CCTV system that her high-end building employed, meaning that even if he had not been stoned out of his head it was physically impossible for him to have had a hand in his wife's disappearance.

Apart from that they had come up empty. No one had seen or heard from Chelsea since she left the exclusive Lingerie shop in Bond Street where she had spent more than a thousand pounds on underwear, stockings, and tights. She was seen walking down Bond Street. They had followed her progress on CCTV in the shopping throngs all the way to Oxford Street then lost her. She had simply just disappeared.

She had stopped to answer her mobile and was hidden behind a passing bus for a few seconds, then just vanished. How or where nobody could fathom. There were no doors or alleys, so there was nowhere for her to go. The CCTV cameras on the side of the road where she had been walking were out of service, so the detectives only had the cameras from across the street to work with. Chelsea Hargreaves had vanished into thin air.

As he towelled himself dry Peter thought about the mobile call she had apparently answered. There was no call on her registered mobile, so the police had deduced she had some kind of burner phone. Indeed, from the grainy CCTV it was possible to see that the phone she had used was a cheaper version than the top of the range iPhone she was known to own.

A dive into her life had thrown up no red flags apart from cash withdrawals of a thousand pounds once a week from the same cash machine in the City of London that the detectives could find no reason for, or why she was in that area at all. Her husband had acted nonchalantly when asked about these withdrawals, saying that they weren`t a lot of money and it was normal for his wife to use this cash for tips and taxis. Why she was in the City he didn`t know, but presumed it was to do with her multitude of investments, although the detectives could find no evidence that she had been there for any financial reasons.

Apart from this there was nothing to suggest that Chelsea Hargreaves was anything more than a very rich woman living a life of luxury. There was a membership to an exclusive gym in Fulham that explained her toned and athletic body. She spent at least an hour there nearly every day apart from Sunday. In fact, she had spent an hour there on the morning of her disappearance. She had accounts at all the top boutiques in the West End. She used the best London restaurants to dine with Ben, alone or with friends.

Her closest friends had been quizzed and none could throw a light on why she may have disappeared. All reported that Chelsea and Ben seemed happy together and nearly all of them told detectives that Chelsea had not been shy in describing the excellent sex life that she enjoyed with Ben. Some had admitted reluctantly that sometimes Chelsea`s descriptions of what she and Ben got up to were a little too graphic at times.

She had no car but preferred to use taxis to move around the city. Ben`s Maserati had not moved for a week in the underground parking of their apartment building.

Chelsea would attend a beauty spa around the corner from where they lived for a weekly massage, body waxing and hair appointment. This was her Sunday ritual, and she was normally there from ten until five, making use of the swimming pool and sauna as well as various beauty treatments. She had attended the spa the day before she disappeared last Monday, leaving at five fifteen and returning home. At seven she had met three female friends for dinner at Roberto`s in Kensington before taking a taxi home at midnight. All had been confirmed by CCTV and witness statements. Nobody reported anything out of the ordinary and in fact most had reported that Chelsea was in high spirits.

This was the first day of Ben`s tryst with the model, but detectives could find no communication between the two. Both their mobiles showed no contact, and there were no e-mails or texts from Chelsea`s accounts that could help with locating her. The police computer specialists had gone very deeply through Chelsea`s laptop, that was still on her desk at home. Nothing there except a few racy pictures and videos of Chelsea and Ben.

Peter walked back into the bedroom and gazed down at his now sleeping wife. She was really a fantastic woman. She had transformed their small apartment that would have fitted into one of Chelsea Hargreaves bathrooms. It was a home with subtle touches that Peter loved. She looked after him. They shared the chores like washing, cleaning, and ironing, but the kitchen was her domain. Whenever he returned home Peter would find a meal waiting for him, either in the oven, the fridge or microwave. In the bedroom she changed from a domesticated housewife into a rampaging lioness.

Her short dark hair covered her face as she slept. Her figure was fuller than when they had met eight years ago at a friend's wedding. Her breasts were large, but still firm. Her legs taut and muscled from walking miles at work. Her bum that was sticking out from under the duvet was rounded and slightly pudgy, but he loved it.

Peter bent down and brushed his lips across her cheek then went downstairs to his car, stopping at the Starbucks next door to collect his usual order from Astrid, who gave him a large grin as she handed over the Styrofoam cup.

The young German would definitely be up for a bit of extracurricular activity he mused. Maybe with Lee involved, as Astrid also flirted outrageously with his wife when they went in together. As he sat in his car, he laughed to himself when he thought about asking Lee if she was up for a threesome with the purple headed goth from Starbucks. He already knew what the answer would be. Lee didn`t mind watching the occasional FFM threesome videos with him, but she had shown zero interest in inviting another woman into their bed.

Peter took a large slurp of coffee and coughed as the scalding liquid hit his throat. He slammed the car into gear and headed the short distance to the police station. Pulling into the yard and parking the car he could already see that the discovery of the body had turned the station into a hive of activity with people rushing everywhere and the press camped on the corner.

Walking into the large central detective's office that had been the cases incident room for the last two days Peter gazed around at detectives and uniforms answering phones and adding "sightings" to a large white board on one wall. A large pinboard graced another wall with pictures of Chelsea Hargreaves, including several taken from CCTV images on the day of her vanishing. The blue blazer, yellow silk blouse and short navy skirt were now well known to most of the population having been spread across newspapers and TV shows since Tuesday morning.

Peter heard his name being called and looked up to see his boss waving at him from his office in the corner. Walking over he entered through the open door and asked, "Anything new turn up boss? What is with the body? Is it her?"

Grimly Superintendent Charlie Smithers nodded, then spoke evenly, "Peter mate, this has turned into a right fucking shit show. We already have the preliminary autopsy report. Things move fucking quick when the victim is as connected as Chelsea Hargreaves."

Peter knew that Chelsea had been photographed with everyone from the top footballers, she owned a stake in Chelsea Football Club, to minor royalty at charity galas. "What do you mean?" he asked softly.

Charlie handed him a manilla folder. Quickly scanning the contents Peter exhaled loudly and whispered, "Fucking Hell!"

"Yes Mate. Fucking Hell!" Charlie responded.

Peter re-read the report. They had found five different kinds of sperm in the victim's stomach, along with DNA that was female but not the victims. There were another two different kinds of sperm in the victim's anus and four more samples from different men in her vagina. All in all, eleven people had come in this woman probably less than one or two hours before her death, and that didn`t count the women. There were ligature marks on her wrists, throat and ankles, and twelve marks across her upper thigh and buttocks that could have been caused by a thin rod, most probably a stick similar to an old school cane.

Her body had been found fully clothed, and they had not recovered either her phone or the blue Gucci handbag she had been carrying. Time of death was put at around one a.m. on Tuesday morning.Cause of death was given as ligature strangulation The last line Peter read twice. Inside the victim`s vagina was a card from a club called Dante`s Inferno. The card was in a small plastic evidence bag that was stapled to the report. Peter looked it over, peering closely as if hoping the card would magically announce who had killed Chelsea Hargreaves.

No Such luck. The card was made of bright red thick paper that looked very expensive to Peter. In embossed Gold was written just a few words. "Dante`s Inferno." Then underneath, "Members Only. Membership Number 22 of 500."

Peter glanced up from the card with a puzzled look. "What does it mean? I`ve never heard of this club."

"It is a high society sex club. Serious A Listers only!"

Peter swung around to see the source of the female voice that had startled him. He had been totally unaware that there was anyone else in the room while he had been talking with his boss. He gasped when his eyes came to rest on one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen. Her flawless face, that could have graced Elle or Vogue with ease, surrounded by waves of chestnut hair cascading onto her shoulders. Piercing green eyes that seemed to lock onto Peter`s blue ones.

"Peter. Meet Detective Inspector Terri Kincaid from vice. She called us when we asked around about a club called Dante`s Inferno." Peter heard Charlie Smithers say from behind him. Peter never moved, his eyes fixed to the stunning woman who rose gracefully from her chair in the corner of the office and extended her hand towards him.

Even her body was perfect Peter thought. He had thought she was as tall as him, but then noticed that the bright red four-inch heels she wore made her only seem to be six feet. Terri Kincaid was dressed in a smart black skirt suit, with a scarlet blouse beneath it that was open just enough to reveal a tantalising glimpse of cleavage. Her breasts were pressing against the tightly buttoned jacket. They were not big, but not small. Perfect like the rest of her. Her thin waist and tight buttocks looked great in the figure-hugging skirt that finished about two inches above the knee giving Peter a good glimpse at long, toned legs wrapped in sheer black nylon.

After a rather embarrassing pause Peter eventually stuck out his hand to grasp hers. "Peter Carey. Detective Inspector Carey. Pleasure to meet you," he mumbled as his eyes moved to take in the perfectly manicured fingernails coated in post office red nail varnish.

Terri smiled as she asked politely, "Can I have my hand back now Inspector?" Peter blushed as he released her hand from his, but their eyes still remained locked as Terri continued pleasantly, "Sorry for the formal wear but I have come straight from an official do."

The spell on Peter was broken as Charlie said gruffly, "Well that`s the pleasantries out of the way. I am sure you will have time to change Inspector Kincaid. I am also sure you can be excused as it is not every day you receive the Police Medal for Bravery from the Prince of Wales."

Peter did a quick double take of the woman. Apparently she was as courageous as she was beautiful.

Charlie carried on in his usual business-like manner, "It`s been agreed that you two will work together as the leads on this case. Chelsea Hargreaves appears to have been killed unlawfully, and there is without doubt a sex aspect to the crime where Inspector Kincaid's input will be beneficial. Anything you need just ask. This woman was well connected, and you will be under intense scrutiny to wrap this up quickly. I suggest you go somewhere and compare notes on what you know. I will keep the heat off you as much as possible."

Terri and Peter said, "Thank you Sir!" almost simultaneously then left the office. As they walked through the large room it fell unusually quiet as everyone`s eyes followed the stunning brunette as she sashayed through the office, her high heels causing her hips to sway sensually as she walked.

Once they were out in the yard at the back of the station Terri asked, "Do you have a car? I hadn`t planned to be working so I took a taxi."

Peter showed her to his Audi, that was his pride and joy. He got in to the driving seat and couldn`t resist a quick peek at Terri`s shapely legs as her skirt rode up as she settled herself in the low seat of the tiny sports car. A brief glimpse of lacy stocking top had Peter involuntarily hardening in his jeans. He quickly looked away and asked, "Where to Terri?"

"Can we go to my place? I want to get out of this get up and into my working clothes. It`s in Croydon, so near to the Clapham Coroner. We can swing by there after and see if he got anything from DNA, or maybe other things that were not in the preliminary report."

"Sounds like a plan," Peter answered slamming the powerful car into gear, pulling cautiously through the crowd of Press at the entrance and then pointing the car in the direction of South London.