The Swallow

Lily and Rachel then made love in that warm, cosy, dreamy way that makes sex first in the morning so special.

Rachel kissed Lily softly on her lips and her tongue probed inside Lily's mouth. Her hands fondled Lily's breasts and her lips moved to the soft skin of Lily's neck.

Pushing the bed coverings away, Rachel stepped over Lily, bringing herself into position 69. The two girls then lapped at each other's pussies.

Lily's hips began to sway and push against Rachel's tongue. Lily's moaning and breathing became more rapid. She grasped Rachel's buttocks, her finger nails pressing into the flesh.

Rachel, sensing that Lily was close to a climax, used rapid movements of the fingers of her right hand to sweep back and forth over Lily's clitoris, while the middle finger of her left hand pressed onto Lily's anus. Rachel's fingering brought Lily to an orgasm.

The two girls, now realigned head to head, embraced and kissed lovingly.

A knock came at the door and a voice from the corridor hailed, "Hello, it's me, Manuel."

"Oh bugger, I'd forgotten about him." said Lily.

Lily hurriedly explained to Rachel that she had allowed herself to become a little tipsy after servicing the San Serriffian ambassador the evening before. In her mildly inebriated state, she had agreed to bed the ambassador's nephew when the young man arrived at Colfax Hall to collect his uncle the following day.

The ambassador had given Lily an extra fifteen pounds, saying, "It's the lad's twenty first birthday tomorrow, so please, give him a special service."

"How could I refuse?" said Lily. "It's 'is twenty first, after all."

Rachel, still aroused by her lovemaking with Lily, didn't object. She reminded herself that Barrington-Hill had told her to "... fuck the brains out of everyone we put your way."

"Come in deary." called out Lily.

The ambassador's nephew entered the room sheepishly, saying "Hello, I am Manuel. My uncle Frederico sent me." His eyes were agog when he realised that awaiting him was not one, but two, lovely girls.

He was a good looking lean and muscular young man; standing at five feet ten inches tall. His Hispanic ethnicity had bestowed on him a light olive complexion, black wavy hair and hazel coloured eyes. His boyish smile revealed brilliant white teeth. Rachel noticed how perfectly manicured the young man's fingers were.

The girls undressed Manuel and then treated him to a first rate call girl service.

Lily and Rachel pushed Manuel back onto the bed and took it in turns to lick and suck his cock and balls. Manuel was no virgin, but never before had he experienced the synergistic effect of having two girls working his manhood at the same time. He propped himself on his elbows to get a good view. The sight of two gorgeous young vixens orally stimulating his cock, combined with the erotic sounds of their wet sucks and licks, was almost overwhelming to his senses.

"Right, birthday boy," said Lily, "who do you want to fuck first, me or my sexy girlfriend."

Poor Manuel was spoiled for choice. "I can't decide; you are both amazing." he gasped.

So Lily decided for him. Standing Manuel up, Lily crouched on all fours on the bed and offered him her cunt. Manuel entered Lily and fucked her hard, his thighs slapping into her buttocks and shunting her forward with each thrust. Lily had to push back into Manuel's thrust in order to stay in place.

Rachel lay on the bed watching the two copulate. She stroked her pussy, licked her lips, smiled her sexiest smile and stared into Manuel's eyes as he thrust into Lily. Manuel's breathing became increasingly rapid.

"Don't come yet, birthday boy." said Rachel, "I need fucking too, don't forget."

Manuel tapered off his thrusting and withdrew his cock from Lily's pussy. He lay on his back to catch his breath, his cock twitching.

Rachel mounted Manuel with her back facing his chest. She ground her hips as she rode him, extracting every bit of pleasure she could from Manuel's rock hard penis. Lily lay alongside Manuel, rubbing his chest and letting him suck her breasts.

The waves of pleasure growing in Rachel's pelvis crystallised into an intense orgasm and she had to stop riding him to regain her composure.

Strong involuntary post-orgasmic contractions throbbed through Rachel's vagina as she sat panting; Manuel's stiff cock still deep inside her. The pulsatile spasms inside Rachel's vagina squeezed Manuel's penis, bringing him ever closer to his orgasm.

Rachel dismounted and Lily took over. Her hands grasped Manuel's shaft and her lips enveloped his glans. His hips thrust up and down as if in a Latin dance, as Lily stroked and sucked him to a shattering climax. Lily's lips remained tightly sealed around the head of Manuel's cock while her free hand massaged his balls, until she had completely sucked him dry.

Lily, her cheeks puffed out like a hamster, leaned over the supine Rachel and the two kissed. Manuel's cum lubricated their mouths and lips.

Sitting up, they smiled at the sublimely happy Manuel, as they allowed his seed to dribble over their chins and onto their breasts.

The girls used the bed sheet to wipe away Manuel's cum.

"Happy birthday, Manuel." said Rachel.

"Yes, many happy returns, birthday boy." said Lily. "Now, time for breakfast, I'm bleedin' starvin'!"

The party began to break up after midday. Lord Colfax had organised an outing to Whitstable and Lily decided to go along with the crowd: it wasn't every day that she had the chance of a ride to the seaside in a Rolls Royce with a member of the aristocracy.

Rachel, keen to get home, asked the butler to book a taxi to Tillingden railway station.

A tall lean middle-aged man approached Rachel.

"I couldn't help overhearing you ask for a taxi to the station." said the man. "May I be of assistance?"

The man introduced himself as Sir Graham Moberly MP and Rachel realised that she was being addressed by the Minister of State for Defence Procurement. She had often seen his picture in the newspapers, where he was frequently referred to as Britain's next prime minister.

They sat in the drawing room and had coffee together. Sir Graham was a charming, charismatic man and very easy to talk to. He bore a passing resemblance to David Niven in both his facial appearance and in his demeanour. His thinning black hair was combed through with Brylcreem and his attire was impeccable. The ruby cufflinks and the Rolex Oyster Perpetual watch around his wrist spoke of understated wealth. The scent of Colonia, by Acqua di Parma, drifted from his body. Sir Graham was at least twice the age of Rachel, but she nevertheless found him attractive in a powerful, masculine way.

When Rachel explained where she lived, Sir Graham insisted on giving her a lift all the way home. "I live in Belgravia my dear, just a stone's throw from Dolphin Square. I insist that you let me drive you home." he said. Rachel could hardly refuse, nor did she want to.

The pair set off at 1.30 p.m. in Sir Graham's Bentley R-Type Continental coupé. It had high-gloss cardinal red coachwork, white-walled tyres, cream leather seats, walnut trim and an engine that purred like a well-fed cat. If ever there was a car designed for seduction, it was surely Sir Graham's Bentley.

They reached Dolphin Square at 4 p.m. Sir Graham had not hurried, taking the scenic route rather than the faster A roads. Rachel had thoroughly enjoyed the drive through Kent's picturesque countryside and villages. She invited Sir Graham into her apartment for drinks and secretly hoped he would make a pass at her.

Sir Graham grabbed Rachel just as she closed her apartment door. He kissed her forcefully and pawed at her body. Rachel did not want to be mauled in that way and resisted, but he was overbearing. He dragged her by her wrist into her bedroom, threw her on the bed and tore at her clothes. He ripped open her blouse and yanked down her camisole knickers. Rachel called out, "Please stop." but he took no heed.

Sir Graham removed his jacket, shoes and trousers, standing in front of the bedroom door as he did so, blocking Rachel's only route of escape. He pinned Rachel to the bed and roughly grabbed at her breasts. He was a large man and could easily overcome someone of Rachel's stature. She felt his right knee push up between her thighs, forcing her legs apart.

Sir Graham had transformed from the middle aged debonair man that Rachel had found attractive, into a raging animal.

He stuck his index finger into Rachel's vagina and then, as if that was his idea of foreplay, he mounted the girl and forcibly penetrated her with his penis. She was not aroused and the penetration was painful. His thrusts were rough and remorseless. He climaxed within a minute, withdrew, dressed and left the apartment without saying a word. Rachel later found three five pound notes on her sideboard.

Giles Barrington-Hill telephoned Rachel at 9 p.m. as arranged. Rachel confirmed that contact had been made with both targets. She also reported to him that Sir Graham Moberly had forced himself on her earlier that evening.

"Grow up." said the callous Barrington-Hill, "Some men like it rough; any whore knows that." Barrington-Hill reminded Rachel of Sir Graham's status as a Member of Parliament and Minister of State. He warned her not to say anything about the incident to anyone else.

Monday 22nd September 1952, National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London

Rachel stepped out of her black cab at Trafalgar Square and saw Mae-Ling Zan waiting by Nelson's Column. It was a 1.15 p.m. and Mae-Ling was early for their rendezvous.

Mae-Ling may have been a diminutive woman, but she stood out from the crowd on that day. She was wearing a pillar-box red, calf length, double breasted woollen swing coat, with white buttons, and a white mink hat with matching hand muff. Mae-Ling's glossy jet black hair was cut short into a bob that cutely framed her face and left her slender neck exposed. Her legs were adorned with ivory silk stockings and on her dainty feet she wore red suede ankle tie stiletto heel court shoes. Mae-Ling had applied a cherry red lipstick that contrasted perfectly with her delicate porcelain skin. It was another very cold day and as Mae-Ling exhaled, her breath condensed into wispy white clouds. It was as though even her breath was a well-chosen accessory in her exquisitely assembled attire.

Rachel walked toward Mae-Ling carrying two ice cream cornets. It may have been a cold day, but she wanted to approach bearing gifts. Mae-Ling smiled when she saw Rachel and laughed sweetly as she accepted her ice cream.

The girls ate their ice creams as they ambled toward the National Gallery. Rachel caught the sumptuous floral aroma of Mae-Ling's Jean Patou Joy perfume as they walked side by side.

They entered the neoclassical building via the huge central portico and made their way to the cloakroom.

Rachel's jaw dropped as Mae-Ling removed her elegant coat.

Beneath it she was wearing a stunning red silk-satin qipao embroidered with delicate white and pink cherry blossom markings. It was short-sleeved, thigh length and had discrete, but oh so sexy, split sides.

People milling around stopped and stared. This was 1950s London, still gripped by post-war austerity. Londoners had become accustomed to a grey world that emulated a film noir. Standing before them was a vision in technicolour, so astonishingly lovely that it transfixed them. Mae-Ling had made every effort to look and smell nice for this encounter.

Rachel and Mae-Ling spent two happy hours viewing the National Gallery's Gainsborough collection. Mae-Ling delighted in sharing her knowledge and Rachel was genuinely engrossed in all she learned. It was now 3.30 p.m. and Rachel felt it was time to move the operation on to the next stage.

"Mae-Ling, I would love you to come over to my apartment. It isn't far and I have some lovely cakes to tempt you with." said Rachel. Mae-Ling took no persuasion and the pair returned to Trafalgar Square to hail a taxi.

Now in her apartment, Rachel prepared a pot of lapsang souchong and served it with some moist cupcakes, purchased that morning from a local bakery. Rachel sat on the sofa next to Mae-Ling and surreptitiously edged ever closer to her target as they chatted.

"Mae-Ling," said Rachel "is there a man in your life at the moment?"

Mae-Ling glanced down at her lap and then, looking shyly into the face of Rachel, Mae-Ling said, "I do not find men attractive. I am a virgin. You will think me disgusting, but my only attractions are toward women."

Rachel took hold of Mae-Ling's hands and kissed her softly on her lips. "I do not think you are disgusting. I also have strong attractions toward women. Tell me Mae-Ling, have you ever made love with a woman?" asked Rachel.

Mae-Ling's hazelnut brown eyes moistened as she whispered, "No, I have always been too scared."

"Wait here, I'll be back in just a moment." said Rachel as she left the room.

Mae-Ling's heart was pounding. The delicious kiss from Rachel had made her feel giddy and her lips desperately yearned to be kissed again.

Rachel reappeared two minutes later with Lily in hand.

"Mae-Ling, I want you to meet my dear friend Lily. We are going to drive away your inhibitions and show you that love between women is not disgusting, but is beautiful." said Rachel.

Lily and Rachel led Mae-Ling by her hands to Rachel's bedroom and placed her on the padded stool by the dressing table. Lily and Rachel stood before Mae-Ling and kissed each other passionately. They took it in turns to undress the other and, when naked, they then knelt on the bed, face to face. As they embraced their breasts pressed together and their hands wandered over each other's curves. The room resounded to the sounds of their moist kisses and their murmured moans.

Lily and Rachel then knelt at Mae-Ling's feet and removed her shoes. Standing her up, they undressed Mae-Ling; kissing each newly revealed part of her body.

Mae-Ling was petite, but a shapely 34-24-34 nevertheless. Her pert 32B breasts stood proudly, as did her pink nipples and her firm bottom formed a perfect hemisphere. Mae-Ling's hairless vulva was pretty; her labia and clitoral hood resembling a delicate orchid. Her red painted lips, finger nails and toenails contrasted vividly against her white skin.

Lily and Rachel laid Mae-Ling on the bed and took up positions on either side of her. They took it in turns to kiss Mae-Ling on her mouth while the other caressed the Chinese girl's body.

Lily turned Mae-Ling over onto her front and kissed the cheeks of her bottom. Then, separating Mae-Ling's buttocks with her thumbs, Lily explored the girl's anal opening with her tongue. Mae-Ling's moans turned to gasps as she felt Lily's tongue probing her sphincter.

Rachel returned Mae-Ling onto her back, kissed her way down her body and started licking her dripping wet pussy. She lapped at Mae-Ling's delicate labia and her tongue probed into her vagina, before focusing on her clitoris.

As Rachel lapped at Mae-Ling's pussy, Lily sucked on the girl's breasts, pausing from time to time to kiss Mae-Ling's mouth and neck.

Mae-Ling was putty in the hands of her lovers. She abandoned all control over her body, placing herself at the mercy of these two goddesses.

Mae-Ling's climax developed sequentially and as if in slow-motion. The tempo of her breathing hastened; her back arched; she grabbed the bed sheet with clenched fists and her body began to quiver; the pitch of her panting increased to a glass-shattering squeal. And then the zenith: Mae-Ling let out a sigh that lasted for an age. Her nerves were gripped in an electrical storm and shooting stars flashed before her inward eye. The orgasm continued for a full minute, during which the girl's eyes remained closed and, as her sigh subsided, she made sweet whimpering noises.

The three girls embraced and kissed each other lovingly. Mae-Ling sobbed silently. The years of longing were finally over.

Lily, triumphant at having deflowered another girl, dressed and scampered off to her own apartment.

Rachel rose from the bed and said, "I'm thirsty Mae-Ling; excuse me while I get us some drinks."

Rachel had observed from their meeting at Colfax Hall that Mae-Ling had a liking for fresh orange juice. She prepared a tumbler full and added the contents of a vial of sodium thiopental. A single dose would be enough for a girl of Mae-Ling's petite stature.

Rachel returned to the bedroom where Mae-Ling was relaxing beneath the bed sheet and looking euphoric. "Drink up." said Rachel cheerfully as she handed the spy her spiked drink.

It took fifteen seconds for Mae-Ling to fall into a stupor as the truth serum coursed through her bloodstream. Rachel switched on her MI5 standard issue portable reel-to-reel tape recorder and began the interrogation. She had only thirty minutes before the short-acting barbiturate would wear off.

As Rachel worked through the pre-prepared questions, it finally downed on her why she in particular had been chosen for the operation. Mae-Ling's answers were given in her native tongue of Mandarin.

Mae-Ling gave extensive technical details about something called Blue Danube.

Rachel then posed the crunch question: "and from whom did you get all this information?"

Mae-Ling replied simply, "Armagh."

As Mae-Ling regained consciousness Rachel said, "Welcome back sleepy head, you have been snoozing for ages!" They embraced and, after talking and cuddling for some time, Rachel called the night porter and asked him to hail a taxi. A deliriously happy Mae-Ling Zan left Dolphin Square at 8 p.m. Rachel immediately telephoned Barrington-Hill.

Rachel's controller was round like a flash.

He listened intently to the tape recording, which he regularly paused to allow Rachel to translate.

The details Mae-Ling revealed about Blue Danube confirmed that she was in receipt of highly classified information. Blue Danube, explained Barrington-Hill to Rachel, was the code name for Britain's Mk.1 atomic bomb, also known as Smallboy.

However, Barrington-Hill became extremely annoyed when he listened to the part of the tape concerning the informant. "Armagh." he snorted, "That's a fucking town in Northern fucking Ireland."

Rachel protested that she had asked the informant question over and over again, but Mae-Ling's answer just kept coming back as, "Armagh."

Barrington-Hill stormed out of the apartment in a foul mood. "We are eleven fucking days from Operation fucking Hurricane, you useless bitch. You had better get more out of fucking Topolski otherwise you'll be on the first fucking flight to fucking Dresden."

"What a charming man." thought Rachel.

Tuesday 23rd September 1952, Dolphin Square, Pimlico, London

The next morning Rachel pottered about her apartment in a happy mood. She had enjoyed seducing Mae-Ling, aided and abetted by the lovely Lily. She felt bad about drugging Mae-Ling, but thought, "Well, she is a spy after all."

The 'phone rang at 11 a.m.

"Celeste Balin calling from Tout Pour Plaire. I have a client for you mon petit gateau. He specifically asked for you. It is a Colonel Dimitri Topolski, and he has booked you for the afternoon on Friday 26th September. Salut."

"Excellent," thought Rachel, "he took the bait." This would be her last chance to discover the informant.

Celeste called again an hour later. "Aren't you the popular girl today!" said Celeste rhetorically, "You have a booking at 8 p.m. tonight. I can't give you his name; he's in the public eye and you must be discrete. Hush hush; je t'aime."

"Oh well," thought Rachel, "I am undercover, so I suppose I have to go along with it." In reality, Rachel was enjoying her sexual adventure and was excited by the prospect of another client.