Johnny Lettuce

"Okay, firstly, Cynthia, you and Shelly need to umglam. We need to make you different. Clothes, hair, the works. No make up, no tanning, nothing but chain store clothing, dye your hair, wear glasses, not contacts if you have to."

They nodded, then disappeared into their bedroom. They had already staked out the larger room. I looked at Sandra, she came and sat on my lap. Stroking my hair, she looked thoughtful.

"You need to stop shaving, but shave your head. Do you need glasses, have you any jeans or baggy or bulky trousers. A pair of trainers and an old t-shirt. A baggy top. That should do it."

I kissed her, she slid sideways onto the sofa, I followed on top of her. We kissed and felt each other up. It felt good, no it felt bloody amazing. An 'Ahem' stopped us, we looked up. Shelly and Cynth wore no makeup, baggy tops, tracky bottoms, unlaced basketball boots and their hair looked unkempt. Cynth pulled on a pair of ancient wire-framed specs. The effect was awesome, they were not the same girls who had entered the apartment. We giggled, laughed, guffawed, fell about. A few simple changes and no one would connect the two girls with the elegant, chic models of earlier.

"Perfect, now pop out and pick up some supplies from the cheapest supermarket around. Pay cash and try not to talk to much."

"Fanks Dahd," Shelly said in a passable East London accent.

"Gotcha Pop," mimicked Cynth, picking at a non existant bra strap that was rubbing under her top. I could see a stage career here for both of them.They walked off, sloppily, Shelly pretended to pull her thong out of her crease and winked,

"Laters pertaters,"

The door slammed, we sat back.

"Now where were we?" I said,

"Bedroom," she said pointing.

The girls came back in an hour, we finished in fifty minutes. It was mind blowing. The years may have made us a little slower and less athletic but the sheer joy and release we gave each other was pretty phenomenal. I think the neighbours would have been impressed judging by the noises we made. I lay back completely knackered, spent, gone. Sandra lay there, red faced, puffing, blowing out her cheeks, grinning like a completely satisfied women. The girls swung in without knocking, we'd not managed to shut the door in our carnal haste.

"Bloody Hell! Not again, can't you give it a rest, there's rabbits embarrassed by the number of times you've done it."

"Thanks Shelly, too kind." I managed before puffing out my cheeks and grinning.

"Mum, do you want to cover up, it's a lovely body, but I'm getting a bit jealous. You're pretty fit for your age."

"I'll say, nice firm tummy Sandra, you probably need a bit of a trim in the lady garden area."

"Thanks girls I'm happy as I am." Sandra giggled.

"Dad could you at least cover up your bits. Please."

"No I like the way it lies there, like a little sleeping creature in a warm nest."

"Not so much of the little please Cynth."

Sandra giggled, then laughed a really dirty, naughty belly laugh. I'd forgotten that laugh, it brought back some perfect memories, when we first met.

"Oh my God it's woken up again, there it goes, whoo hoo."

"Cynth, that's my Dad, it's not right, mind you it's pretty interesting. Being gay you miss all this, not that I'd want to experience it close up, if you catch my drift?"

"I did once, you know, try straight sex, it was... interesting."

"Interesting?"

"Yea, you know from a, 'So that's what they do' perspective."

"And?"

"What?"

"How was it?"

"Well okay I suppose, I never came, he did, it was pretty messy. He seemed quite pleased with himself. We met a few times afterwards, but I was never that keen to try again."

"Wow!"

"Well thank you for that, now could Mum and I have some time alone to reflect on our lovemaking and your wonderful story?"

"OK come on Shelly," Cynth waved a goodbye, Shelly shrugged and left.

I lay there like a lone yacht in the marina. That is till something warm, wet and delicious descended on me. I felt a kiss on my lips too.

"You're not too tired are you?" Sandra, raised and lowered her hips over me. I grinned,

"Not for you, never, come here gorgeous."

And for the next eight weeks we stayed and made love at the apartment. The girls too, it was somehow infectious, we sometimes only saw each other for meals. Ardly and Robinson updated things as far as things go. They had traced back nearly all the money Tommy Barlow had salted away and sequestration orders flew about. The case had taken on a new dimension when they found links to Ted Dacre and he was now the subject of a separate, but conjoined operation. The whispers were he had offered half a million to find Cynthia, that was on top of the money he was paying the assassin.

We were all seated at the counter to have lunch, when Reception buzzed to say there was a package for Cynthia. We were a little nonplussed, but Cynthia had ordered a few bits and pieces, so we assumed it was that. The courier can up, but as Sandra opened the door, he pushed her backwards and strode into the room. He was reaching into his shoulder bag, when Shelly flung the big heavy copper bottomed saucepan full of boiling water at him.

He raised an arm but only succeeded in tipping the pan over his arm and gut. He screamed in pain, and staggered backward. Sandra had a cricket bat she'd stowed behind the door. She swung at the back of his head, a neat middle of the bat drive which sent him flying forward. My foot came up as his head came down. His jaw crunched and blood and teeth splattered on the tiles as he face planted them. He rolled over and gurgled, then his shoulder bag disgorged a Sig Saur with a professional handgrip and a silencer. He tried to get up, but Sandra prodded his groin with the bat.

"I wouldn't if I were you," she growled menacingly, I felt my ball bag tighten, she meant business. The lioness with her cubs.

I flipped my phone out and dialled nine,nine, nine. I asked for Police and mentioned the investigation. Ten minutes later Ardly and Robinson, the dynamic duo, showed up with the armed response unit. We were sat drinking tea, the killer trussed up like a present on Christmas Eve. The guy was bundled out, Scene of Crime Officers called by. They measured, noted and photoed. Ardly was on his second plate of biscuits and his third tea. Robinson, was taking Sandra's statement. I was nursing my bruised foot, Shelly and Cynthia were planning a Spa Day.

Finally everyone had gone and we cleared the stains up. We decided to eat out. Taking time we cleaned up, I shaved, it felt great, clean at last. Sandra looked absolutely gorgeous and had to fight me around the bedroom, before she managed to get some clothes on. Likewise from the squeals next door, there was a lot of hanky panky going on. We assembled in the lounge everyone out of breath and grinning and I looked at three of the most fabulous women in the world.

"Wow, you lot look sensational, I feel like a tramp at the ball."

"You scrub up okay Dad, although the hairy face was nice, in a rugged backwoodsman way."

"No! clean shaven every time."

"Me too!"

"Cynth, was there a double entendre there?"

"You'll have to check that later, lover."

"Ladies, behave, let's go eat.

"I'm famished,"

"I want protein and lots of it."

"Steaks,"

"Chicken,"

"Shall we."

Needless to say it was a riotous drunken affair. But hey, we could afford it and we deserved it, but I can't see us going back there anytime soon. Certainly not if the current Management are still in charge.

Two years later, Shelly and Cynth married at a beautiful Civil Ceremony, they now own and live in the apartment. I'm living with Sandra and we're almost at the 'Let's get Married' stage. Sandra and the girls have joined me in the business. I have a better office, two brilliant receptionists, although they are a bit hazy on what constitutes a lunch 'hour'. Sandra does the books, thank God. Me I still do the dirty stuff. I can always be found standing on a wet rainy corner or in draughty hotel stairwells. Either that or I'm poking my long lens into other peoples affairs. Safe to say though, at the end of the day there's definitely a warm welcome at home. The four of us usually meet up at weekends for a meal or the theatre, perhaps a trip to the continent, or similar. It's a far cry from the tin pot operation I'd had before.

The joint operations into Barlow and Dacre yielded results. Ted Dacre going down for life, his empire ripped up, his operations quietly taken over by his rivals I suspect. The killer got thirty years for murder and attempted murder. Helping the stats he confessed to five other murders and an attempted abduction. The Dynamic Duo got commendations and promotions. So overall everything appears to be on the level.

That is until Shelly showed this woman in...