Appleby Blush Ch. 01

"Well?" she heard her boyfriend's voice.

Her deep brown eyes betrayed her excitement as she struggled up in bed and replaced the phone. The white sheet dropped away to display her full breasts. "This is what we've been waiting for, Matt," she told him. "That was Appleby Modelling."

He blinked at her. "The case you told me about?"

"Uh-hum." The smile on her cute face broadened. "Alice got notice of her audition yesterday and we thought we'd have to settle for that. This gives us both a chance of getting in there and snooping around."

"That's good, honey," he shrugged, turning to look at the clock. He'd taken the day as holiday and was due on the golf course in a couple of hours. "So... what time do you have to be in the office?"

Kirsten grinned at the look in his eyes. She'd never been able to hold down a relationship for more than six months and in truth, she'd been wondering about her and Matt recently. But she had to admit, he was just what she needed in bed. "And why do you ask, kind sir?"

"Well," he huskily said, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek as he ran a hand across her exposed breasts. "As you have the audition, I was thinking we might celebrate."

"Mmm," she moaned, as his thumb flicked a brown nipple. "Tonight, baby. I really need to get moving right now."

Matt roughly pulled her back as she began to leave the bed. As she giggled, he slipped his hand between her thighs. "You're sure?"

Kirsten moaned again as he pulled her into a kiss. Her fingers found his hardening cock under the sheets. "Maybe we have time after all..."

***

Alex Goodwin lumbered into Sandra Wilson's office. It had been a surprise when she'd asked to see him. Since she'd ended their affair eighteen months ago they hadn't had much to say to one another. When he'd married Sally, he'd thought his feelings would settle down. They never had, of course. Maybe that was the reason why his marriage hadn't lasted that long? They remained friendly enough, though he didn't see her often.

It wasn't only his and Wilson's personal lives that had suffered, of course—it was their professional interaction, too. The conclusion of their personal relationship had coincided with the DeVere fiasco. Sandra had been coerced into taking over from Donny Webster and they were big shoes to fill. Webster had been Vice Squad. And this had been his office.

He let out a deep sigh. It all seemed so different now. Whereas his ex-boss's small desk had looked like a combat zone, Sandra Wilson had everything neat and tidy, in its own place.

He didn't like the small, rectangular, black-framed glasses she pulled off as he entered. They made her look like a librarian. As usual, her straight black hair was tied into a knot high on her head. She still looked sexy, though.

He watched her closely as she rose from the desk and pushed the door closed behind him. The black, skin-tight jeans she used to wear had long since been replaced by less provocative trousers, and her snug tops no longer had a button too many undone. In Vice, anything went in a dress sense, but there were limits when you became a Senior Officer in the London Met.

Her gun was holstered right up against her tailbone, but it was the two peach-like buttocks that Goodwin found himself focussing on. For a thirty-five year old, the divorcee still had a great ass. Even at her age, she could pass for a model. He sighed softly to himself.

These were thoughts he shouldn't be thinking. Not anymore.

"Grab a seat, Alex," she softly told him, pushing back into her chair and slipping her glasses back on as she picked up a file.

He grunted. It wasn't just for her—a grunt was Goodwin's normal response nowadays. Retirement couldn't come soon enough. "How's it going?"

"The normal," she told him with a sigh. "There are mountains of paperwork to get through. Every Divisional Head has their own agenda and it's all too political for there to be any cooperation anymore. And the courts continue to hand out the minimum sentences so the villains we catch are back on the streets before we can return to the office."

Goodwin grunted. "Bad day then?"

"No, Alex, as I said, it's normal" she repeated, laughing as she flashed those topaz coloured eyes at him.

He felt his body shiver at the sound. It was a soft noise, one he remembered so well. What he'd give for another session with his ex-lover, but that wasn't going to happen. She'd made that clear enough. All he had to look forward to now was an easy passage into retirement and he'd have taken it already had it not been for Alice. His last meaningful act in the Met would be to help her come to terms with the job.

He'd been completely against his daughter joining the Met, but she was stubborn as well as bright. And good looking, too. She had the body of a model and he'd often suggested she should try and head in that direction. So far, to no avail.

"What about you? Busy?"

He realised that Sandra was talking to him again and he shrugged.

"Stupid question," she conceded. "And don't worry, Alex. I haven't got more work for you. But..."

"But?"

Her smile turned softer as she removed her glasses again. She held up a file. "I could do with some help."

"From me? Why?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Various reasons, Alex. I find myself looking round nowadays, wondering who's in who's pay. It's getting worse."

"Bent cops? You think?"

She snorted. "I know, Alex and so do you. We just don't know who. Apart from Kirsten and Alice, you're the only one I can really trust around here."

"You trust me?"

"Of course, I do," she snapped, the irritation all too evident in her voice. "Hell, Alex, I trust you with my life. I just need you to get back some of the spark you had, forget about retirement for now and get your act together."

Goodwin grunted. "You were never one for smooth talking, Sandra."

"And you were never one for moping around, Alex. It's that hard exterior that drew me too you in the first place..." She paused. The way his eyes had suddenly brightened made her realise she was sending out the wrong signals. "That's behind us," she quickly said, "but you're a good friend and a bloody good cop. And right now, I need you."

He uncomfortably pushed a hand through his greying hair. It used to be white until he began to dye it. Sally had wanted him to. The act caused considerable mirth amongst his colleagues but he didn't care. He didn't like them much, anyway. Young kids who thought they knew everything...

"How can I help?" he asked, thinking more about the woman than the problem. Wilson would trust him with her life? That was the nicest thing she'd said to him in over a year. She was quite right to feel that way, too. Despite their split, he'd still do anything for her. He watched as she dropped the file in her hand back down on her desk. It wafted a few sheets of notepaper onto the floor and he bent to pick them up.

"I've been reviewing a number of cases—trying to find patterns, inconsistencies," she said. "And there's one thing that's come up time and time again."

The big man eased himself into the chair opposite her desk. He hadn't felt comfortable enough in there to take a seat. Not until now...

"What's that?

"It's a name. Donald Appleby."

"Donald Appleby? The Donald Appleby?"

"Not the man," she replied. "But one of his companies—Appleby Modelling. Now why would that name appear in every case I've reviewed?"

Goodwin nodded thoughtfully. He didn't believe in coincidences either, and he'd come to appreciate that Sandra's hunches were invariably correct. But Appleby was a well-respected, legitimate businessman. It was inconceivable that he could be involved in anything shady. Wasn't it?

"What else?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Not a thing, Alex," she said, stretching her body and rubbing her eyes.

Goodwin felt the old familiar stirring as her flowery blouse pulled too tight across her breasts. In his mind's eye he could see them—small and firm, capped with round little nipples that stuck out like eraser tips. The erection that had started when she'd said she trusted him grew further...

"In some ways it reminds me of the DeVere case, Alex. Jack's wife got sucked into Erin DeVere's modelling agency, didn't she? We couldn't prove anything, but I'm still sure there was more to the business than simply producing models. Maybe it's the same with Appleby?" She tapped the file in front of her. "Perhaps that's why his name crops up so often in these reports?"

"Maybe," Goodwin nodded. "So, what you're looking for from me is...?"

"I need your support, Alex. Someone to bounce things off. You'll always been a good foil for me and it's always helped to talk things through with you..."

She paused and he realised he was blushing. Damn—as soon as she gave him some praise he was taking it as a personal thing between him and her. Despite the eighteen month gap since they went out together, some things never changed.

"But not only that," she quickly added, sitting up so that her pose was more formal. It was as if she'd recognised his reaction and wanted to put a barrier between them. "I have Kirsten working on this case with us."

Goodwin nodded. "Good choice. She's experienced enough."

"Exactly. And she's attractive enough to secure a modelling audition at Appleby's. That will provide an opportunity to nosey around and see what she can pick up."

"Makes sense. When's the audition?"

For the first time in their conversation, Wilson looked uneasy. There was more to this, he could sense it.

"She hasn't heard back from them yet. But Kirsten's not the only one on the case and this time we do have an audition confirmed.

"That's good—" Goodwin stopped mid sentence. Realisation hit him. "No."

Wilson set her jaw. "It's a great opportunity for her."

"Great opportunity?" he half shouted, then lowered his voice. "Look Sandra, undercover work can be dangerous. Alice isn't ready for it yet."

The brunette leant back in her chair and tapped a pencil on her teeth. "Alex," she slowly drawled. "You've just said that it makes sense for Kirsten to go in. Alice knows her stuff. All she has to do is keep an ear open for anything untoward and report back. You have to stop wet nursing her. Try acting like a cop and not a father. How else is she going to get the experience?"

Goodwin stared silently at her. He knew that Sandra Wilson was right but that didn't make it any easier, nor did the fact that Alice hadn't confided in him. The two of them told each other everything so why should this be any different?

"Because I told her not to," Wilson said, demonstrating she hadn't lost any of her ability to read his mind. "This is an unofficial mission and the last thing I need is for anything to leak out."

"You think I would have—"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped, giving him that no nonsense look she'd developed over the past twelve months. "We're both too long in the tooth not to realise that the fewer people who know the better. Besides, you would have been a negative influence on her. She needs to know you believe in her, not talk about her lack of experience."

Goodwin gave a long sigh as he spread his legs out and rested his forearms on his knees. Ever since he'd known her, Sandra Wilson spoke good sense. "You said unofficial," he said, rubbing a hand across his chin. "Turner doesn't know?"

She shook her head. When they had something, she would raise the case with her boss. He'd close down the investigation before it started if she took it to him. Appleby was too important a figure to upset. There'd be a complaint straight through to the top and Turner would be in the firing line. "No, not until we have something concrete."

Goodwin nodded. He knew Colin Turner was putting the heat on Wilson, firing more and more paperwork at her just to get it off his desk. That wasn't the only reason he hated the man. Turner was instrumental in breaking up the team eighteen months ago, in getting rid of Donny Webster and Jack Palmer, in making them scapegoats. As far as Goodwin was concerned, he'd like to see something nasty happy to the bastard.

"What I'm doing is asking for your help, Alex," she continued, breaking into his thoughts. "I want you on this case. I need you to give Alice some confidence. And I need you to look after her like you used to do with me when we were with Donny and Jack. You know what I mean—a word in her ear when necessary, a nudge in the right direction if her enthusiasm gets the better of her. And I need you to help me, Alex. Because this is hush-hush, I need you to watch my back."

He stared at the brunette and slowly nodded. It wasn't just that she made sense. Nor was it simply that Alice was his daughter. He couldn't refuse this woman anything.

***

His secretary grunted as Donald Appleby's firm hands bent her forward over his desk. His immaculate trousers were around his ankles and his tailored shirt bunched up at his waist. Angela grunted again as his hard cock continued to thrust inside her.

"Good?" he murmured, as he slowed his pace. The hand in the middle of her back held her down against the desk, her naked round breasts pushing against the soft leather top. This woman was so fucking tight. "You like that, my little slut?"

"Ngh... fuck... yes," she gasped, her breath a harsh rasp.

Appleby grinned. Her posh accent came through even more when she was cursing. He imagined it would be how royalty spoke when they were on the job. Perhaps he'd have a chance to find out one day? The thought made him grow another inch and he lost timing for a second as he revelled in the thought.

"Fuck, c'mon..." she cursed again, when his juice-slicked cock accidentally withdrew. Her hand dropped underneath her body to slot him in again.

"Impatient little bitch," he playfully laughed, regaining his focus.

Her superb body felt warm and alive as began to fuck her again. With each thrust, the desk rocked on its legs. He leaned into her, his caressing hands savouring the feeling of the soft body that was firm and thick in all the right places. One hand slapped across her ass as he drilled her, creating a red mark. A second slap followed. When she moaned in half-hearted protest, his hand drifted down between her young legs. His experienced fingers softly rubbed her clit.

Angela groaned loudly as his fingers flicked at her sensitive nub. Her legs spread themselves even wider as her skimpy black thong stretched to its maximum around her ankles.

The way her young internal muscles squeezed his manhood sent a surge down to his balls. Burying his face against the top of her back, he gently bit at her shoulder. His teeth left a mark on her skin as he tasted her perfume and sweat. It broke the code between them but so what? She'd find a way to explain that to her husband.

Sliding both hands up her body onto her ripe tits, he loved the way her nipples felt between his fingertips as he cupped them. They grew harder as he upped the pace.

"Yes, Donald... oh, fuck..." her classy voice grunted.

The pony tailed man moved like a machine. He was sweating hard now as his groin slapped against her ass, maybe showing his age? One of her hands found his and dragged it down to her clit again. He grinned at the recollection that the upmarket bitch had originally turned down his advances...

He wanted her orgasm before his but he wasn't too far off. The way she was pumping her sweet ass backwards against his thighs to meet his forward thrusts was really getting to him. Leaving her breasts, he wrapped some of her short, dark hair in his hand and yanked her head up from the desk. He held it suspended in the air as he went for broke.

"Cum, you bitch," he grunted, thrusting hard enough for the heavy desk to move a couple of inches.

With one final backward shove of her aching legs and hips, she held herself still. For a moment, their flesh was super glued to one another in a remarkable stillness. As she came, her tight sex spasmed and contracted vice-like around his throbbing cock. Her thighs shook and trembled as she crested in her release and her entire body began to shudder. Pulling her head free from his hand, she sunk forward onto the desk as her orgasm rumbled through her.

The millionaire had paused to allow the little bitch to enjoy her moment, but now he wanted his reward. She knew that, too. With experience that belied her tender age, she kicked her thong free of an ankle so that she could plant her legs even wider to accommodate him.

"Yes, baby. Now..." she gasped, raising her ass and pushing back.

He pumped like a madman, racing himself to his orgasm. His young secretary made no effort to help, other than stiffening her body to allow maximum penetration. He grunted. She moaned. He whimpered. She groaned.

"Come on, Donald," she urged. "Come on..."

His balls tensed from her encouragement and with a grunt he sent two quick streams of cum into her clutching body. He anchored the soles of his feet on the floor, feeling his calves ache as he continued to fire. Each diminishing burst grew shorter, allowing him the chance to catch his breath. Holding onto her hips, he sank back down into his chair, exhausted from the effort.

Angela went backwards with him, her tight sex still gripping his cock as her weight fell onto his thighs. She delicately rested herself on his lap, keeping her legs spread wide.

"That was wonderful, Donald," she whispered, beginning to gyrate on his softness. There was an instant response. "That was good, baby," her classy voice murmured as she began to grind his manhood back to a state that would satisfy her again. "

The businessman grunted as his hands found her heavy tits again. Dominating women was his speciality and now that he'd broken this one in, his mid morning breaks were becoming a regular feature of his business day...

***

"Okay, people," Sandra Wilson said once they were all together. The women took the seats and Goodwin leant back against her closed office door. "I don't have much time so let's keep this as short as we can. Let me set out where we are so that everyone is clear..."

She paused, watching the look that Goodwin shot his daughter. There was something endearing about the way he wanted to protect her. His warm smile indicated that he'd listened to her counsel. For a second, she could see him standing there, eighteen months ago. Donny Webster too, and Jack Palmer. Webster would have a stack of files scattered across his desk and would be thrusting the half eaten sandwich into his mouth while he attempted to take a drink from his plastic cup at the same time. God alone knew how many shirt fronts he'd stained. But things were different now. This was her bag...

"First problem... this is unofficial," she went on. "If Turner or anyone else gets wind of it there'll be hell to pay, so let's keep it tight. Second problem, we have absolutely nothing to go on—just a string of coincidences where Donald Appleby's name continues to crop up. We don't have anything specific, but there are far too many references for my liking."

"Why are we doing it if Turner would object?" Kirsten naively asked.

Wilson and Goodwin exchanged glances. The young brunette was the only person in the room who was unaware of the history between them and Turner. The DeVere case was six months before she'd joined the division. Even Alice was aware of the background—her father had taken a lot of convincing not to resign there and then. Only his loyalty to Sandra Wilson had seen him decide to continue with Vice.

"Because this is proper police work," Wilson said carefully, stepping around the issue. She ran her fingers through her straight black hair, fiddling with the knot tied high on her head. "Turner is more intent on keeping the politician's happy."

Kirsten looked at the three faces staring at her. "Okay," she smiled, holding her hands up. "It was a stupid question."