Professional Excellence Ch. 11

'I could always suck you off if you want? That usually calms blokes down if they're worried about performing.'

Ruth was straightforward in her offer. I looked from one to the other. Michael was completely unreadable, she had gone back to applying fresh make-up until she caught me staring.

'I don't mind, honest. I gave George a hand job before he went up to the gantry and he's had none of the problems you were worried about, has he?'

I had to admit George had performed above and beyond expectations. Michael remained Sphinx-like. It was another knock on the door which saved us. One of the staff wanted to deliver the message that a man from the accountants office Howard had hired was in the manager's office with everyone's wages. That got Ruth talking about what she was going to do with the money and we even got Michael to think about less doom-laden topics.

Stella was obviously going above and beyond as well. The noise of the audience was clearly audible above the music on the tannoy. They were loving it. We sympathised with the stage manager again as her set ran over the four tracks and the poor girl had to improvise. I went up to the wings when I guessed it was over and met a dripping Stella coming the other way. She was beaming, but I didn't stop to enquire what the various streaks running down her body actually were. I cleared my throat to put on my most plummy BBC voice before switching on the mic.

'Gentlemen, there will be a fifteen minute interval before the finale. Fifteen minutes. Anyone wishing to buy drinks at the bar should be back in good time as we will recommence promptly. There are additional lavatories in the foyer for any of you needing to urinate or masturbate. Fifteen minutes. Thank you.'

The stage manager was wetting herself. It took a little longer for the reference to wanking to permeate the audience. In the UK, if your accent's posh enough you can get away with anything.

Michael used the time to check all his props were secreted in the right places in his dinner suit. I drank water and tried to keep cool by standing close to the stage fan; it was imperative my costume remained unsullied. I was surprised how nervous PC Ruth looked as she joked with Pete and Joseph. The stage manager pressed a button to ring a bell in the bar and foyer and the sound of an audience settling itself began to drift through the closed curtains.

There were to be no immediate announcements before we started, so Michael and I positioned ourselves on stage. I nodded to the stage manager and even behind the thick curtains the darkness of the main room was perceptible as Charlie lowered the lights leaving only the faintest of warm glows on the stage. The curtains were pulled back quickly, followed immediately by two explosions in front of us and the sudden brightening of the stage to maximum. It even shook me and I was expecting it. The men gasped audibly before erupting into cheers, whistles and applause. Call me big-headed, but I assumed most of that was for me.

I was wearing a full length body stocking for this last part in the same wide mesh as my last outfit. My breasts pressed through the tight material, it had taken ages for us to find a gold one. My nipples were barely covered by two metallic-looking pasties which in turn were linked by a thin chain. All of it shone under the lights. My gold panties were the bottoms of a Brazilian-style bikini. That's to say, they covered virtually nothing at the front and the strings holding them up were as thin as wire. The sheer gold stockings had also been a nightmare to find and the suspender belt was hand-made.

We ran through snippets of earlier parts for the first few minutes. Michael discovering playing cards and coins somehow concealed about my person while I kept up a running commentary. We chided a number of audience members as more credit cards appeared and the wallet he struggled to pull out of my arse nearly brought the house down.

'Oh, oh, My-Fist-ooooh'

Was never more appropriate than when he held his hand over my pussy to extract a wrist watch. It had become something of a running joke and there was mass participation in the final orgasmic sigh. It was also Ruth's cue to appear on stage.

She looked every inch the constable. That is if the police have adjusted uniform rules to include a skirt so short the suspender straps holding up her seamed black stockings were clearly visible. And blouses were being issued in sizes so small they could only be closed by knotting them below the tits and fastened with buttons which looked they were struggling to contain her breasts even from where I was standing. The handcuffs looked realistic enough, but the truncheon also hanging from her belt would fool no one. The bulbous head at the end of the flexible eighteen inch dildo was probably the giveaway.

We made out we were having a conversation, with her whispering under her closed hand and me saying really, and goodness, and are you sure into the mic. We separated after she handed me a mobile phone and one spot followed her to the edge of the stage, while the other remained on me.

'I'm really sorry, boys, we're going to have to interrupt the act. Police instructions'

There were a few groans. That told me that some of the lodge members were so drunk they'd even buy the idea that a stripper with a badge could somehow represent the long arm of the law.

'Apparently they've apprehended a member of a gang operating in the hotel and they're worried that more of them may have infiltrated the room.'

There was a good deal of expectant scepticism, despite the fact that PC Ruth was nodding vigorously at my announcement. I pressed a button on the phone to light the screen.

'They've retrieved the phone of Jake Stones it says here. If you'll come up so I can return it.'

There was a good deal of light hearted banter as Jake identified himself and made his was to the stage. I showed him the phone and he said it was his. PC Ruth stepped forward wielding her truncheon and held it across his chest as he made to leave.

'Sorry to detain you for a moment, Jake.'

I smiled at him. Michael, who was now standing beside me again, tried to do the same. Unsuccessfully.

'It seems the gang often use stolen phones to communicate with each other. Would you press last number dialled just to prove you're not one of them. He did, and a few seconds later the sound of a ring-tone came from the back of the room. Charlie found him with the spot almost immediately - we'd given him and George a rough idea of where to find the marks - the sound of a man nervously saying hello came over the speakers.'

PC Ruth was beside him and patting him down, much to the envy of his friends, in a ew seconds.

'Oh Jake, what have you been up to you naughty boy.'

A member of the hotel security staff came on stage and led him away. There was another beside Ruth as she dipped into the portly man's pocket and held up a chain with two pasties still attached. All eyes turned to me and my completely naked breasts. I pantomimed shock and attempted to cover myself, not too carefully obviously.

PC Ruth made great show of fiddling with the phone as the audience's attention yo-yoed between what she was doing and the sight of my boobs. A few seconds later there was another ring on the other side of the room. The spot followed Ruth over to a red-faced man who looked thoroughly concerned.

'Oh my goodness, the lodge's been infiltrated by a gang of pickpockets. Everyone keep their seats.'

This time our intrepid constable took a pair of gold lame panties from the thoroughly embarrassed man's pocket. I screamed. There was confusion in the room. One focus was me on stage, under a spot, flapping my hands about to make sure everyone got a good view of my now exposed pussy. There was PC Ruth action too. The second man had tried to make a break for it - that was totally unscripted - the spot followed her as she chased him into the arms of the security man. Cue cheers. She grabbed his phone and ostentatiously pressed it. The room fell quiet and waited. Most of the audience took the opportunity to switch their gaze to my net-covered nakedness.

The third phone rang right at the back. The spot found him almost immediately as the second picked out PC Ruth waving the dildo menacingly as she strode across to him. A young man was frantically checking his pockets for swag whilst waving his hands to show everyone there was nothing in them. That didn't stop Ruth immediately picking up something from under his chair. I knew it was a net body suit, as it dawned on the men that that's what it must be all eyes swung to me.

My maiden-in-distress act might not pass muster for a below-average amateur dramatic society, but these boys loved it. I scampered around the stage as if looking for an exit. I'd mixed up a body lotion with some gold glitter so I shimmered as I ran, shedding a fine rain of gold behind me. I gave them a show of a minute or so.

'There's a gang of them. Keep your hands on the family jewels lads, who knows where they'd strike next.'

Suddenly there were phones ringing all over the room. About half the men were trying to switch theirs off, the rest were swivelling their heads trying to see what was going to happen next. There were a series of flashes and bangs on the stage, then everything went black for a few seconds. The beams from the spots then reappeared and swept the room like anti-aircraft lights in an old movie. The theme from Z Cars came on loud, the room lights began to rise and balloons floated down from the ceiling.

I watched it all happen from the wings. Michael had hugged me as soon as we got off stage, lifting me off my feet. There was one of those awkward oops-moments as he realised what we were doing. He put me down, gave a coy cough and we both decided to concentrate on the crowd rather than mention what had happened. Charlie was slowly raising the lights. As everyone realised the show was over applause started to grow. By the time Ruth joined us, whooping as she threw herself at Michael, it was loud. I left them to it, more because I was naked, rather than wanting to give them privacy. You can never get too much of an embarrassed Michael.

The dressing room was buzzing. Pete and Joseph had finished drooling and were sharing jokes with Velda and Stella. They all stood up and clapped when I went in, which was nice. I scooted into the shower as soon as the two guys had enjoyed another mini-drool while offering me refreshments.

When I got out, the crowd had grown. Ruth was showing her latest outfit to them all while fleshing out her experience in the finale. Michael had changed and was watching her quietly. There was a newcomer too. He was a man in a business suit, a closed attaché case on his lap. He was smiling weakly at the jokes and joshing. Michael nodded at me when I emerged wrapped in a towel. I guessed he was the guy with the wages envelopes.

'I'm Monique. Are you here for me?'

'Yes. I'm Jack Thompson from Woolley and Wilde. Mr Thurston asked us to prepare the cash envelopes for those working on tonight's event.'

He delivered his introduction with his eyes glued firmly on the knot in the towel which was gradually loosening as I dried my hair. It finally slipped when I stretched out my hand to take the one he offered. I managed to catch it before it slid off completely, but from the colour his face went I guessed he got a decent view of my tits. I went to put on a gown to avoid him having a stroke.

'Woolley and Wilde? Unusual name for an accountancy firm.'

He didn't see that and went into a long explanation of the origins and respectability of the business. I just signed the inordinate amount of paperwork he needed and accepted a sturdy cash box and keys after checking the contents.

Handing people envelopes stuffed with cash is a great way to cement friendships and my cast mates were effusive in their thanks and compliments on my performances. Monty came in at some point during the love-fest spluttering and waffling his own thanks.

'They want a curtain call. Unusual. Never happened before. Don't believe it. Completely unprecedented.'

Stella and Ruth kissed him to shut him up. The on-going cheering had been background noise after Michael turned the tannoy right down. But it was still going on a good ten minutes after we'd left the stage. Everyone looked at me.

'Well I suppose we could.'

'Good show, come on. Yes, jolly good idea. Chaps are thrilled, thrilled. Can't tell you how many have congratulated me. Unprecedented. Never seen anything like it before.'

'That's decided then. We either go and take another bow, or spend the rest of the night in here listening to Monty stuttering.'

I grabbed the mic when we got to the wings, but stayed behind the curtains. I didn't want to hang around. I nodded to the stage manager to open the curtains. That at least stopped the stamping on the floor and banging on tables.

'OK, OK boys. You win. Back for a last bow, let's hear it for Pete, the man who put the flick in dick.'

He strode out waving and surprised us all by launching a couple of birds he'd folded out into the crowd. It was actually amazing to watch them flap their wings out into the darkness.

'And Joseph, the man who can toss anything.'

The applause crescendoed again as he took the stage juggling a few coins from his pocket.

'Our incomparable guest lecturers Daisy and Almost Dr S. I know they taught you all a thing or two.'

They both lifted their skirts and shook their arses at the hooting and whistling crowd.

'And - given that Holly Berries is blowing the whistle on you lot on national TV at the moment - the undoubted star of the show. The-Great-My-Fist-Oooh.'

They all joined in with the last bit. Probably the loudest and longest fake orgasm in history. Michael looked mortified, but flicked cards out into the dark for as long as it went on. I strolled out to join them and was shocked at the noise. It seemed to go on and on. Flashing my boobs at them seemed to be the least I could do to acknowledge the wave of love that was coming our way.

Monty walked down the edge of the ballroom followed by a line of men carrying flowers. They were the lads who'd moved all the furniture around and set up the room. I could see the envelopes Monty had given them poking out of one or two pockets and they looked well pleased as they handed up the bouquets - especially the ones who got an eyeful of cleavage from Ruth, Stella and I.

I shooed everyone off stage before Monty could decide to give a speech. I announced that we were calling the cops if they weren't out of there in five minutes before handing the mic back to the stage manager. I gave her a kiss and my flowers. She was looking at the money Monty's given her and was almost in tears when she hugged me.

Back in the dressing room, Monty announced that he'd put a couple of hundred quid behind the bar which would stay open until two and that the bar staff had the details of his taxi account so there'd be a free ride home for everyone. He was undoubtedly the most popular man in the place at that minute. Even though the room emptied in five seconds flat. We were suddenly alone.

'I have to go up to the Presidential Suite to entertain a few friends. Um, will you be joining? I mean they'd be disappointed. But, your friends. This evening. Everything.'

He was beaming. I'd never seen him so happy. But he still wasn't going to shut up unless someone stopped him.

'Of course I'm coming. After all that excitement I really need to get laid. And getting paid for it too? Yummy.'

I was fibbing. When we'd first met Monty and he'd suggested he line up a few friends to pay for sex, it had been the main attraction. I basically saw myself as hand-holding Michael and getting him to do something new. In reality, the whole thing had grown like Topsy. And now it was over I'd have preferred to sit with my new friends getting drunk. But a promise is a promise. And twelve hundred and fifty quid isn't bad either.

I locked up my stuff in the dressing room and prevailed upon Monty to walk me upstairs. Not only would it stop him starting another speech, I reasoned, but I'd make it through the lobby to the lifts without getting too much unwanted attention. A woman without underwear, wrapped in a flimsy robe, doesn't need to be a genius to expect harassment if she goes out in public.

We parted at the door of seven-oh-six, him to chill more champagne and break the news to his friends; me to apply make-up and body lotion more appropriate to an intimate setting. After all the changes I had been through in the last three hours, it took no time at all to put on a fresh suspender belt and sheer black stockings. I packed condoms, lube and wipes as well as a spare pair of stockings into a small handbag whilst pondering what else to wear. In the end I went for nothing at all. I wasn't exactly going to be playing hard to get and with Monty as maitre de, I reasoned, the less subtle the better. I popped a small tube of lotion into my bag. Showers can be drying on the skin and I'd no idea how many I may have to take.

I could smell the cigars and expensive cologne in the corridor outside the Presidential Suite. The familiar sound of boys at play was muted by the substantial-looking door, so I wasn't surprised at the volume as it opened. The man who greeted me was about forty. He had the excited sheen of a man who had drunk too much - to be expected after the evening we'd just delivered - and the excited demeanour which belied his obvious years. He held out a hand to draw me inside.

'I'm Toby, lodge secretary. You're Monique, of course, lovely to meet you. Thank you for coming. Didn't really believe old Monty when he said you were up for... So thank you again.'

I offered him my cheek to kiss and allowed him to steer me into the main room. There I was greeted like a cross between a film star and a stripper at a bachelor party: a mixture of awe and naked lust. Monty came over immediately, handing the bottle of champagne he was grappling with to my chaperone, and introducing me this inner circle.

'Toby, you've met; Sir Roderick is our patron; Silas here runs the biggest accountants in town and Simon is my oldest friend and solicitor.'

Each greeted me with a kiss, Sir Roderick on my hand, the rest opting for my cheek. The pop of the cork cut short what was sure to be more waffle from Monty and glasses were passed around. I tried to look modest as Sir Roderick proposed a flowery toast in my honour. He was a large man, the wrong side of fifty, with a florid face and big stomach which suggested he made no concessions to fitness regimes. The others, from their body language, clearly deferred to him. I noticed that they all wore wedding rings with the exception of Monty.

Silas and Simon I estimated, were, like Toby and Monty, a few years younger. They all had the look of men losing the battle to retain the figures of their youths, despite whatever exercise regimen they preferred. I doubted any followed the same path as Monty. They bombarded me with questions and compliments about various of the tricks they had seen. I remained coy until I realised, as we all stood there with empty glasses, that we were all waiting for someone else to take the initiative as to what would happen next. I held up a hand to silence them.

'Toby, why don't you pour us all another glass of this excellent champagne? Sit, gentlemen, sit. I for one have been on my feet all evening and am looking forward to enjoying a different position.'

Well brought up men do not snigger. But they all came as close as decorum would allow at the prospect of enjoying me. The room was large with two sofas and two large armchairs grouped around a low table. They dispersed themselves, glasses in hand. Sir Roderick and Silas retrieving well-sized cigars from the ashtrays where they had left them as they made themselves comfortable. I remained standing.