Invaders

Bill dropped his speed. The rain battering against the silver Mercedes was making driving conditions ever more difficult and the growls of thunder and flashes of lightening added an eerie quality to their journey. It was in keeping with the couples' mood.

The sinister happenings that had started a month ago were now coming to a head.

While there were still some pieces of the jigsaw missing, he had enough information to convince him that the significance of whatever was occurring across the world was huge. Finding the right person to share his concerns was essential, which was the reason he and Susie had undertaken the long journey in the middle of such a violent storm.

"You okay?" he asked, glancing sideways at his young girlfriend.

She nodded and pulled the black car coat more tightly around her naked body. "I'm okay, thanks. How much further?"

"Not long," he sympathetically answered, one hand pulling uncomfortably at his still damp white boxers. The clothes that were sodden from their earlier excursion in the heavy rain were spread on the heated seats in the rear of the car. They should be fully dry by the time they arrived and would provide a welcome relief from his semi nakedness. Even with the car heaters turned on full, he was feeling the chill.

"Turn left at the crossroads," Susie told him, glancing across at the directions displayed on the Mercedes' satellite navigation system. They'd driven along so many country roads he'd have been lost without it. "Then we're just half a mile away."

He nodded. Despite having gone so long without sleep, the adrenalin running through his body ensured he remained wide awake. There was still a substantial amount of work to be completed tonight. Reaching Steve Russo's home was one thing, but explaining the problem and convincing him of the danger was something else. Two strangers turning up unannounced at his home at four in the morning wouldn't help their credibility.

It seemed Susie's thoughts were aligned to his. "Should we have called him?"

"No way. Not until we're sure..."

He paused, the implications of the unfinished sentence hanging in the air between them like the Sword of Damocles. They fell silent, lost in their separate thoughts.

Bill took the left indicated by the sat nav and headed along the minor road that ran parallel to a high wall. At first it looked like a back road to nowhere but within a couple of hundred metres they'd reached an entrance on the other side of the road. He parked the car on the grass verge opposite, his keen eyes taking in the height of the protective wall and the wrought iron electric gates guarding the entrance. Gaining access without being seen wasn't going to be easy.

"What now?" she asked.

It was a good question. "First things first," the forty-year old man answered, buying himself some time. Turning in his seat, he reached into the back of the car. "Let's get dressed."

Her hand on his arm stopped him. He turned back and saw that she'd slid the coat from her shoulders, displaying her rich, ebony body to his gaze. His eyes wandered across those large thrusting breasts with their dark nipples and he felt the immediate stirring in his loins.

"I need it again," she whispered, reaching across to his boxers.

He knew this was part of the problem, too. Whatever they'd done to his girlfriend, there'd be no stopping her until her need for sex was—temporarily at least—sated. He was also starting to believe that the aphrodisiac running through her body had nothing to do with any normal drug. Any doubts he had about being able to rise to the challenge—again!—disappeared as her talented mouth brought him to full hardness with relative ease.

"That's good, Bill," she huskily breathed as she took hold of the base of his cock. Another crackle of lightening lit the sky, highlighting their bodies as she crawled across the leather seat. Straddling him ungainly with one leg, she lowered her curvy black body onto his. "Very good..."

***

Steve Russo stared out of his bedroom window, watching the rain bounce off the outhouse buildings. The thunder and lightning that alternated in the dark was spectacular. He loved nights like this. Or was it the morning? After the night he'd had, he'd lost track of time. Turning to glance across at the room, the small bedside clock registered four am.

The sound of the shower came to a dripping stop at the same time as another crackle of lightening lit the sky. He watched the surrounding area light up before instantly plunging into darkness again. Within a few seconds, the door to the en suite bathroom opened.

The light from the bathroom behind her silhouetted the petite Indian beauty. She was naked except for the small white towel wrapped around her wet hair and his gaze ran approvingly over her slender body. The thin black landing slip complimented her deep brown skin and the diamond in her belly button glinted sexily as she walked towards him.

Although her breasts were smaller than his usual preference, he loved the way her perfect dark nipples sat so high on the curves. They'd felt so hard in his mouth.

Leila—yes, that was it. He'd been trying to remember the air hostesses' name for the last couple of hours. 'Baby' had sufficed during their lovemaking. He'd slept with hundreds of women in his time, many more than he could remember. Her name may have slipped his mind, but he'd always remember everything else about her.

"My God, it's spectacular out there," she murmured, her eyes drawn to the flash of lightning that seemed to pin Russo's solid frame against the window frame. In just his pyjama bottoms, he looked every inch as sexy as he had when she'd first undressed him. A fraction over six feet, his muscular build was testament to the two-hour workout he religiously undertook first thing each morning. Despite his age, he was in great condition.

She slipped an arm around his waist and snuggled into him, loving that manly smell. He'd been every bit as good in bed as Stephanie had told her and she had no reservations about her Swedish friend having bedded him first. She'd never been a jealous girl. When his hand caressed her ass, she giggled but pulled away. "I'm going to be late..."

Gathering her clothes that were scattered around the floor, she dropped them onto the bed and flopped down beside them. Despite the lateness of the hour, she took her time pulling on her thigh highs. The way his gaze scrutinized every movement gave her goose bumps.

She made a show of smoothing each into place. Give him something to think about until they met again. And they would be meeting again...

"Don't look at me like that, Steve," her soft Indian voice teased, before she rose gracefully from the bed to allow him to do just that. "I go on duty at Heathrow at eight."

She paused as she reached for her lacy boy-shorts. The way his sexy eyes were devouring her body was making her moist again. No, she didn't have time—did she? Holding the underwear on her little finger, she swirled it in the air until it flew off at an angle.

"Oops..." she huskily murmured. She dropped one hand to her hip and slid a finger into her mouth, Lolita-style. "Did you phone for a taxi?"

"It'll be here inside half an hour," he told her, catching onto her mood. With a knowing grin, he unfastened his pyjama bottoms and dropped them to his feet. His cock was fully erect.

She slowly swayed back across the room and gently pushed him backwards until he was framed against the cold glass of the window. They'd have twenty minutes at most. Taking hold of his arms, she spread them either side onto the thin frame that ran along the window.

Sliding to her knees, her full lips kissed around his hard shaft before she took him inside her mouth. She needed to taste that delicious cock again before letting him fuck her one final time...

***

Susie had climaxed the instant she'd taken Bill inside her but one orgasm wasn't sufficient. This time she was determined to make herself cum as many times as she could before she allowed him to reach his own climax. She'd teased him that way before, of course. But that had been in his bed. Doing so in his Mercedes, in these circumstances, added an extra edge.

For a while she indulged herself, continuing to move in slow circles until the first of the orgasmic tremors settled. "I need more," she whispered, licking his neck. They both knew that.

Grabbing his hands, she dragged them up onto her breasts. The feel of his cold hands hardened her nipples even further. Warming to the task again, her circular motions changed to gentle up and down thrusts. With each movement, her head gently bumped against the roof of the car but all she could feel was his thick girth throbbing against her velvet insides.

Their breaths grew ragged as they became caught up in the delicious soft friction between them. Compared to their earlier frenetic fucking that night, this was a different kind of sexy. Both continued to move slowly and Bill's hands dropped to her trembling hips, stroking them as he gently pulled her down and then pushed her up in time with her soft thrusts.

"That's good, baby," she moaned. "Oh fuck, that's good. Oh fuckohfuckohfuck..."

The second orgasm burst through her body like a forest fire and this time she had to pause, bending her body to rest her forehead on his.

Then she was on the move again...

She fell into a lazy rhythm, pulling upwards until she was almost free before softly gliding back down. As long as he could last, there was no hurry. With each downthrust, he filled her completely again. They moved that way for some time, in their own world, the sound of the rain battering the outside of the car providing a surreal contrast to their grunts.

"That's it, baby," she whispered, licking around his neck again. Their mouths met and they shared a kiss. The soft sharp slaps of their flesh and the steamed up windows gave added emphasis to the growing heat of the moment.

"Don't cum," she insisted, changing the angle so that she could rub her clit on the base of his shaft. Her hands ran across his shaved head. "Don't cum..."

Susie groaned in approval as he nodded. Bending forward to avoid the unwelcome contact with the roof, his cock penetrated her as far as it could with each downthrust. Her leg was scraping awkwardly against the inside door of the car and her back was agonizingly pressing into the steering wheel, but her entire focus was on the third orgasm building inside her.

When it burst, her voice switched from growls to high pitched grunts...

***

Steve Russo checked his mobile and allowed himself a smile. Leila had only been gone for ten minutes and she was already texting him. It was a sexy message at that. Was she really going to do all those things to him the next time they met?

His cock flexed inside his robe.

The wavy haired man felt better after his shower and the bourbon enhanced his feeling of wellbeing. The peace that came with the early hours of the morning felt sublime—this might just be his favourite part of the day. But then he always felt this way after sex, particularly when it had been as invigorating as the last few hours. Holding the glass to his lips, he savoured the heady aroma that never failed to deliver. Life was about as good as it could be...

He contemplated whether to catch up on some sleep or spend some time at his computer. As the Behavioural Science Professor at the London Business School, emails were the bane of his life. Maybe he'd allow himself to check his mail while he finished the drink and then grab the couple of hour's sleep he'd need to prepare himself for the rigours of the day. Decision made.

The sudden barking of his dogs downstairs disturbed his thoughts. The golden Labradors should have settled after their noise when Leila's taxi had arrived. He wandered across to the bedroom window and glanced outside. There was nothing untoward. Marching quickly across to the bedroom door, he stilled them with a single command. "Max! Bess!"

The chime of the front doorbell stopped him in his tracks as he began to retrace his steps. What the heck? He had a visitor at this time of the morning? Maybe Leila had forgotten something—who else could it be? The gun he took from his bedside cabinet and slipped into the pocket of his robe would provide some backup if he needed it...

***

Bill Fawcett knew the impression he and Susie would give when the man inside studied them on the house security cameras. They were drenched again after their long walk along the drive and while his girlfriend's coat had provided her a little protection, he was wet to the bone. He rang the bell again, once, twice—sending out a clear message that they weren't going away.

When he saw movement on the other side, one question bounced around his mind. Only one. Taking a step forward, he stood protectively infront of his girlfriend as they watched the door slowly open.

Relief flooded his body.

He had wavy, black hair...

"Mr. Russo?"

The man nodded, the alert eyes covering his dishevelled appearance with an almost surgical precision and then flicking past him to Susie. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Russo. We need to see you."

"I'd already figured that," Russo said, his gaze carefully evaluating his two visitors. "I don't often get company at this time of the morning and certainly not looking the way you do. How did you get through the gates? My security is pretty tight."

"We came through when the taxi left," he explained, deciding there was no room for anything other than the complete truth. This man needed to trust them, just as they needed to trust him. "Then we walked along the drive."

"That's half a mile."

"It felt like it," Fawcett said, with a wry grin. "That explains our appearance."

Russo nodded. "The cameras didn't pick you up..."

"We kept to the shadows. It was important not to be detected until we saw you."

"Which is why you didn't use the intercom at the gate?"

"Exactly."

Russo's hand tightened on the weapon in his pocket. "And why is that?"

"We needed to see the colour of your hair."

"The colour of..." The look on Russo's face suggested he was close to ending the conversation before they got in their stride. "Now look—"

Fawcett slipped a hand around Susie's shoulder in an attempt to show the London Business School man some solidarity between them. His voice was firm and steady. "It may sound ridiculous, Mr. Russo, but I can assure you it isn't. This is deadly serious. We've travelled a fair distance to get here and it's imperative for you to hear what's been happening."

"Give me one reason—"

He searched his mind for one. What could he say to convince this man he needed to listen to two soaked to the skin strangers who'd sneaked into his property at this time of the morning? "I got your name from Tom Watkins..."

"Tom? He sent you?"

"I work for him, Mr. Russo. No, he didn't actually send me but he said you were the best man to talk to. I can't stress—"

Russo's upraised hand cut him off. "If Tom recommended me, then I'll listen." His eyes covered their appearances again. "But only on the understanding you both get out of those wet clothes. I don't want pools of water all over my carpets and I'd hate you to catch your death of cold. I'll show you where you can shower and get a couple of robes for you too. We can talk over coffee."

One Month Earlier

Bill Fawcett gave up using the mirror to help fasten his striped tie. Everything moved left when it should have been right and vice versa. Smiling to himself, he started again.

Life was just getting better and better. Being appointed as Old Man Watkins deputy at the Advertising Agency meant he'd take over the chair within the next few years. Reaching that status before he was forty-five would see one of his lifetime's ambitions achieved.

Then there was his second passion. Once he'd accepted his personal limitations as a musician, he'd stopped performing in the band he'd formed three years ago and managed them instead. After those long, fruitless years attempting to establish a reputation on the London music scene, they were now actually on the verge of that breakthrough.

Tonight's gig would be their biggest yet.

He turned towards Donna as she returned to the room. His girlfriend had arrived unexpectedly ten minutes ago and had been on the phone to some friend or another ever since. Eventually he'd settle down and marry—to someone at least as successful as he was—but for now blonde singer met all his needs. She might not be the sharpest tool in the box, but how many men of his age had such a sexy twenty year old girlfriend?

It wouldn't last of course, but he'd ride the wave until he was ready to move on.

"You look formal," he told her, planting a kiss on her cheek as he accepted the tumbler of orange juice she handed him.

"Of course," she said, fixing a loose strand of short blonde hair behind her ear. Holding her arms wide, she posed for him. Even in the prim and proper skirt and top, she looked sexy. "I'm heading for my interview."

Bill laughed. "It's only a radio interview..."

"Typical," she said, shooting him a wry smile. So what was wrong with dressing up? It might just be radio, but who knew where the interview might lead. "Here I am about to promote the band and our esteemed manager is—"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he laughed, taking a step forward and reaching out for her.

"No way," she giggled, swerving to avoid his lunge and shaking her finger at him. "You're just unhappy they didn't want to speak to you."

Bill hesitated. She was partly right, he supposed. He did like to be the one in control. "Where are they based?"

"Front End Radio..." she sang, imitating the tune of the jingle played by the radio station every half hour. "In Is—ling—ton..."

That sultry voice was how they met. The group had been searching for a second female lead to support Susie and her deep tone and sexy mannerisms had seen her sail through the auditions. Was that really two years ago now? Had she really only been eighteen? They'd flirted for eighteen months before getting it on. She'd gone through a long line of boyfriends in that time.

She'd joked to him that none of them were able to keep up with her healthy sexual appetite and when she eventually took him to bed, it hadn't taken long to discover why. The twenty-five year old loved to fuck just as much as she loved to sing.

"Think I could make a living at that? Singing jingles?" She giggled, bending forward and pulling up her black skirt up so that she could smooth the seam of her stockings.

The forty-year old man's eyes followed her movements. She deliberately held the pose for longer than she should as she pretended to adjust the black lace stocking top. "The world has more in store for you than jingles," he slowly said, shaking his head at her playfulness. Still, she had his cock interested. "How did you get the interview again, Donna?"

"Oh, you're interested now, are you?" Wandering towards him, she took the orange juice from his hand and stirred it with her finger before sucking the wet digit into her mouth. "I told you, I met a guy after our last gig. He works for them. Naturally enough, he was so impressed he wanted to fuck me. So I strung him along and got the interview."

He pulled a face. "You told me half that story..."

She let out a deliciously throaty laugh as she wandered around the room. "Which bit did I omit? Let me guess. I didn't mention he wanted to fuck me? Did I really need to, Bill? I mean, I would have thought that was self evident. Don't most men..."

He shook his head again. She was such a flirt that most men thought they were in with a chance. It was harmless enough, but still, there were times when even he had to bite his lip.