Rick Mallet Ch. 03-04

Ch. 3 General Stonewood

Lily was off my lap, and I was all tucked away with my trousers zipped up by the time Owen stopped the car in front of the Stonewood house. The house looked like a cross between the temple at Angkor Wat and the Great Wall of China. As we approached a door the Mongol hordes couldn't have breached in a month with a steam shovel, it slid soundlessly open. I followed Lily inside.

She turned to me, "You come."

"If I'm not mistaken, you did too, more than once," I answered. But she was all business again, the inscrutable oriental.

The hall we travelled was shorter than a football field, but not by much. The walls were hung with portraits in styles dating back three hundred years or more, all men in military dress, all with flaming red hair and penetrating blue eyes. Interspersed among them were works of erotic art from Asia and India.

We exited that tunnel of love through a set of French doors into a glass atrium. The heat and the smell brought me flashes of a long-ago trip to Phuket. Plants pressed fleshily against the glass all around, stretching high above to cast shadows across the open floor. In the center stood a massage table, with two straight chairs and a small side table nearby. A big (both tall and broad) old man lay prone on the table, quite naked, his head toward us, white hair short over his pale mottled scalp. He lifted his head to watch me approach, narrowing his blue eyes. Crossing that floor felt like passing over an open field under the sights of a machine gun.

His voice was deep, and snapped; every phrase sounded like an order. "Thank you, Lily. Sit, Mr. Mallet. Lily, send Rose in, and have her bring Mr. Mallet a Singapore Sling."

"I can do fo you, General," she answered.

"Send Rose."

Her eyes dropped, and she shuffled from the room.

"Now, suh," He noticed I still stood. "Damn man, I know you're independent and even insubordinate. I want to hire you, and I don't know how to ask for favors, but please think of this as me asking. Sit. And when the drink comes, drink it for me. All my pleasures are being taken from me as I age. I want to watch a man enjoy a drink, that's all."

I couldn't help liking the old man. I sat. "What can I do for you, General?"

"I need you to find someone."

"General, you own a consulting company with a whole division specializing in finding people who don't want to be found."

"Yes, well. It's the head of that division who's missing, and the last place they can track him to is this estate."

"You're talking about Randy Mercury."

"Yes, suh. Randy's gone missing.

Randy Mercury was a legend among special forces, mercenaries, and law enforcement world-wide. His exploits dated back to the early days of US involvement in Afghanistan, and ranged around the world. He'd killed terrorists from far away using high-tech weaponry, and up close, using, in one case (if the legend was true), a pencil. And now he was missing.

The door slid open and a young woman entered carrying a highball glass. She was the image of Lily, if Lily were twenty years younger and had red hair and blue eyes. Rose.

She placed the glass on the table beside me, next to a manila folder with a check clipped to it, then moved to the old man and began massaging him. It was a very professional job.

I lifted the glass and offered it toward the old man in toast. He watched me thirstily.

"I drank those by the gallon at Saigon Saigon," he said dreamily. The massage was having an effect, but the blue sniper eyes never wavered. "Will you do it, Mr. Mallet?"

All the zeros on the check made my decision easier. "I will. I'll need to speak with everyone in the household."

"Suh?"

"He was last seen here. I'll read the file over, but this work is about talking to people, and this house is the place to start." I finished the drink -- far too sweet for my taste -- and set the glass down.

"Lily will take care of it," he sighed, and fully relaxed into the massage.

Rose indicated that he should turn over. As he did, his semi-tumescent cock flopped like a white snake against his pale thigh. She captured it in her hand and bent to take it in her mouth. Still professional: the world's oldest profession. His eyes were closed, but she never took hers off me as she took his full length down her delicate throat: bright, unblinking blue eyes.

Ch. 4 Mrs. Milford

I left the room to her low gurgle and his sighs of pleasure. The French doors again opened soundlessly.

Lily stood outside, her mouth a thin line. "You take case."

"Yes. What's this say?" I flipped the file folder in my hand.

"Landy disappealed two weeks ago. He at mansion that night. Stayed late. Dlove off past midnight. Not seen again. File includes dossier on tellolists who might want him dead, none known to be in US though. Also, he spent a lot of time at Lucky Lewis's club, with a dealer named Gina."

"Rucky Rewis's?"

"No, Lucky Lewis -- you know." She glared at me.

"Yes, and I know you went to Hill's Academy and Stanford, were a competitive surfer, black belt in karate, a model, and speak English without an accent, so you can drop it anytime, especially since you've got the 'l's and 'r's backwards."

We locked eyes. "Also, every other time I was ever in a Hummer, it was with a squad of sweat-stinking Army Rangers. I'd take another ride with you any time."

"In your dreams," she said. But then she smiled.

"Who was in the house the night Mercury disappeared?" I asked.

"The General, Mrs. Milford, Mr. Milford, Angel Stonewood, Rose, and me."

"What about the sissy-boy chauffeur, Owen?"

"He has a room in the garage. He was there."

"I'll need to talk to them all."

"Rose can't talk for another twenty minutes. Mouth full." The smile was gone. "Angel's out somewhere. You can talk to Mrs. Milford. Mr. Milford too, if she lets him speak."

"Like that, eh?"

"Like that," she agreed.

We went to find the Milfords.

Another set of French doors opened from the hall to a terrace. Sunlight and shade dappled the deck, due to climbing roses on a pergola. There was a lap pool and a woman swimming. Her bare back and buttocks moved steadily through the water. Still not noon, and another woman without panties on. I thought the odds were good Rose wasn't wearing any either. This was getting to be a pretty good day, though not a record in the nude-bottom woman department yet.

Near a lounge chair by the side of the pool stood a chubby middle-aged man, also nude, holding a towel and with a male chastity cage locked on a penis you'd need a magnifying glass to find if not for the cage.

Not just pantyless women, but more naked men than a Y locker room.

The swimming woman came to the near end of the pool and came out up a set of steps, like Venus from the ocean. Her auburn hair shone darkly in the sun, lying across her pale shoulders. Her breasts, D cups, stood firm testament to her exercise routine, the nipples jutting from the chilled mounds like bullets. Her belly muscles tensed and released as she rose from the water. More auburn hair at her crotch

shone like a red neon sign at an hourly-rate motel.

She posed at the top of the steps, water droplets gleaming on her skin like diamonds on a marble statue, and the chubby man stepped forward to towel her dry. He began by delicately patting at her face, then worked his way down, out each arm in turn. He dried the front of her body, cupped the towel at her fiery groin until she gave him a look, knelt to work his way down her feet. He rose and went behind her, and serviced her back the same way. When he finished, the damp towel was pooled behind her feet, and he pressed his face into the cleft of her ass.

Only then did she acknowledge our presence with a look at Lily, who spoke, "This is Rick Mallet. The General hired him to find Randy Mercury. Mr. Mallet, this is Mrs. Marilyn Milford, the General's daughter... and Mr. Milford." She turned back to Mrs. Milford. "He has some questions about the night Mercury disappeared."

Mrs. Milford pushed her husband's head away from her ass and settled herself on the lounge. She gestured to a nearby patio table and chairs. Lily and I sat. Milford remained on his knees.

"Did you see Mercury that night?" I asked.

"Every inch of him," she replied.

"How long was he with you?"

"He's about nine inches long, and was in me for a good hour," she smiled. "That sound about right to you, Humbert?"

"Yes dear."

"What did you folks talk about?"

"We don't exactly 'talk'. He told Humbert to get him a whiskey."

"He drinks my Pappy Van Winkle," Milford said. Color rose in his face, and his high-pitched voice gained in volume. "He drinks my whiskey, he fucks my wife, then he has me lick his dick clean."

"Do you hate him?"

"No, I ask him to do all those things. I quite enjoy watching him satisfy her sexually in ways I cannot, and I especially enjoy licking her pussy and ass when he's done. That's the only sex she and I have."

I looked at her.

"That sounds about right," she said. "No one has ever filled me the way Randy does. Humbert appreciates that. He likes for me to be satisfied." While Milford was speaking, she had let her legs fall open, and was rubbing one hand over her pubic region. A finger penetrated the cleft at the base of the trimmed red triangle. "He was in my room for more than an hour, and left me quite satisfied that night. When he left, Humbert and I were occupied, his face was between my legs for the next twenty minutes. We didn't notice when Randy drove away, but I'm told it wasn't for some time."

"Anything else?"

"I miss him." She removed the hand from her pussy. "Look, I'm quite wet from thinking about him." Her fingers shone in the sunlight. She looked at Lily, "Did you have him?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"As described. You will be pleased."

Mrs. Milford turned to her husband. He looked at me and said, "Would you like to try a glass of the Pappy? It washes away the sweetness of a Singapore Sling. And would you please fuck Mrs. Milford? She hasn't been herself since Mercury disappeared."

The two women arranged for Marilyn to buzz Lily when we were finished. We went into a pool house across the terrace. Milford poured a shot of bourbon into a crystal glass and set it on the bedside table. Then he followed Lily across the terrace and into the main hall.

Mrs. Milford kissed me hungrily. Her nimble fingers undid the buttons on my shirt, unbuckled my belt, unsnapped and unzipped my pants. Getting naked to fuck was a novelty for the day. I was enjoying it. She put her body against me.

"Your body is in great shape," I said, cupping my hands around her butt cheeks.

"For a middle-aged woman?"

"For any age. Is it just swimming and sex?"

"The usual country club stuff: golf, tennis, horses, yoga, spin classes. I have a spin instructor who gives me a good workout. His dick isn't as long or thick as Randy's, but he comes buckets. Humbert loves that."

She put her mouth closer to my ear. "Let's not talk about that." She gently bit at my earlobe. Her hands ran over my rib cage. She found the shrapnel scars on the left side, and pulled her head back to look. "What's this?"

"Desert Storm. Let's not talk about that either."

I lifted and pulled her against me, grinding her up and down my thigh. She held the back of my neck with one hand, used the other to grasp my cock and work it up against her snatch crack, while she got comfortable straddling my hips. I pulled her up and tight against me, lifting her feet from the floor.

"My!" she said. "You may just be bigger than Randy."

She was wet and open, the tip slid in. She worked herself like a country club horsewoman. Her motions gained speed. She slid farther and farther along my cock, until she was bottoming out and rising until the tip rubbed the underside of her clit: tip massages clit, shaft slides along, lips get stretched, pubic bones clash, and tip massages g-spot. It didn't take long for her to reach an orgasm.

As it crashed over her, she tucked her head against my chest. Her russet hair brushed my chin, her arms clasped around my neck.

Even for me, fucking a woman standing up is not sustainable for too long. As her orgasm gradually subsided, I took a few steps, and executed a kind of slow-motion racing dive onto the nearby bed with her beneath me.

Her breath whooshed out, and before she got it back, I was pounding into her, humping her across the bed on her back.

Her legs flopped wide open, and her head fell back. She was like a frog in a tray, spread for dissection, or a spatchcocked chicken.

I massaged one breast in each hand, rubbed the erect nipples with my palms, then pinched and pulled each between a thumb and fingers. I kissed, nibbled, and licked at her cheek, jaw, and ear. I whispered in it, "I'm going to fuck you so hard your legs will be too weak to play tennis the rest of the month. You won't be able to sit on a horse. You're going to forget all about Mercury. You'll be lucky if you remember your own name!"

"Oh, do it! Fuck me! Give me sex like a real man." She shrieked into another orgasm, "Ahhh!"

Without a pause, I scooped my hands between her splayed legs and rolled her thighs up toward my shoulders. I rammed my cock into her. The underside slid along the back of her wide-stretched snatch, the top raked the front, and the tip found her g-spot.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she squealed. Her juice sprayed out around my cock like champagne around a cork. "Uh huh huh," she panted, exhausted.

But I wasn't finished. She was like a toy in my hands, and nothing but fuckmeat now. I pulled out long enough to flip her over. My cock was throbbing and empurpled, smeared with her sex juice. I hammered it into her again and again. She collapsed on the bed, but I pulled her ass back up, shafting her gaping and juicy snatch while I slapped her ass. "How do you like this ride, Marilyn?"

"Ah ah hah, gu- gu- good!"

I slapped her ass again and again, raising pink hand prints on her pale flesh. "Wiggle that ass, Marilyn! Don't just lie there! Squeeze me and finish me off!"

I felt the load boiling up inside me, like steam pressure in powerful engine. Then it released, jetting down my shaft and spraying so hard inside her it gave her cervix a jolt. I throbbed and squirted again and again. I could see it foaming out around me, and dripping down her snatch-lips

I pulled out and let her fall to the bed, I slapped and smeared my cock on her ass. Remembering her kinky marriage, I said, "Milford can lick this up!"

"Yes. He'll probably shoot in his chastity cage when he sees your cream leaking out of me. Thank you so much, Rick!"

She turned on her side to look at me. I found my boxers and slid them on, then my trousers. I sat beside her on the bed and picked up the glass of Pappy that Milford had poured for me.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"I need to speak with Angel." I sipped. The flavor was like everyday bourbon the way Marilyn Milford was like an everyday housewife. I sipped again.

"I think I understand why they call you Doggy downtown," she said.

I put on my shirt, socks, and shoes. Tasted the bourbon again. Bent to give her a kiss.

"You'll come see me again?"

"I'd like that." I finished the bourbon, set the glass down, gave her ass a slap, and left.