Invaders

One hand went to his head, tilting it so that he could look at her. The other slid across his wet shirt, running her fingers across his hard nipples before slithering down between his legs. "Good," she whispered, leaning up to softly kiss his lips. "Because I'm horny again."

Bill's alarmed eyes went to the taxi driver but he was busy taking a call on his mobile. What the hell had Harry fed her with? "Again?" he whispered back.

Her mouth found his again and then she was taking his hand. Before he knew it, she'd pulled it against her crotch and had begun to push her hips upwards against his fingers. Despite himself, he found he was unable to resist the temptation to rub her mound through the wet material. With a soft grunt, she humped faster and began to stroke the outline of his cock through his jeans. He immediately felt himself hardening.

"I can't wait," she told him, spreading her legs even wider as his pressing fingers hit the spot. Her hand began to drag down his zip. "I need to fuck you. Now..."

"Manor Crescent!" It was the sudden sound of the driver's voice that broke the spell. A faint blush hit Bill's cheeks. He had no idea when he'd finished his phone conversation or whether he'd seen anything. "Which side do you want me to stop, Guv?"

"The right," he gasped, grabbing Susie's wrist seconds before she had his manhood out into the open. He held it there, staring into her eyes. It felt like she wasn't going to be satisfied until she had her way. "We'll be inside the apartment in a moment," he breathlessly explained.

The taxi driver spoke again. "You want me to pull in beside the police car?"

Bill froze at the words. He yanked Susie's hand from his cock as he stared out of the window. The police car was parked at the front of the apartments and two cops stood beside it, staring around them. "Drive on." he rasped.

"Sure, Mr. Bond," the driver laughed. It took a moment to accelerate again after he'd started to slow down. "I'm enjoying this. Let me guess, that little lady with you is a Russian agent and they have a world-wide warrant for your arrest?"

Bill ignored the jibe as he zipped himself, cursing the erection that felt uncomfortable inside the confines of his wet trousers. "See that silver Mercedes parked on the left?" he asked the driver, pointing across to his car. "Stop just after it, please."

It was on the curve of the bend, further away than he'd usually park, but there hadn't been a space closer to his apartment when he'd got home last night. Thank God for that, the Merc was practically out of sight of the police.

"Sure," the taxi driver said, still chuckling away.

"What is it?" Susie breathlessly asked, sitting forward now and resting an arm on the back of the seat. She swung her head between Bill and the police.

"Didn't you see them?"

"Of course, but what's that to do with us? They could be—"

"They have blonde hair," he snapped. It explained everything.

***

They young Indian woman lay in her lovers arms, a thin sheen of sweat covering their bodies after their exhaustive lovemaking. She took a sip from the glass of expensive Chablis they were sharing. "So, Steve Russo, tell me something else about you..."

The fifty-year old laughed softly as he stroked her dark, wavy hair. "Questions, questions! What else would you like to know? I'm fifty. I'm in great shape. I can fuck all night..."

She playfully looked up into his face and stuck her tongue out. "All of those things I know," she laughed. "Stephanie told me all that."

Ah yes, Stephanie. He'd fucked her Swedish friend not more than a month ago and she'd subsequently provided an introduction to Leila. He'd have to remember to thank her. That was the thing about air stewardesses—in his experience, they had no qualms about sharing.

"Never mind what Stephanie told you," he sulked. "You just conducted your own research. What did you think?"

"I'll think about it," she teased, passing him the glass. "Tell me something else... about your work. What did you say your title is?"

"The Behavioural Science Professor," he patiently told her, his tone like a father taking to his child. He swirled a sip of wine around his mouth before allowing it to slide down his dry throat.

"Which means?"

He kissed the top of her head. "This is boring..."

"Not to me," she told him, turning her head on his chest so she could lick around one of his nipples. "Explain..."

His cock found another inch at the sensation of her tongue on his flesh. "Okay," he mumbled. "The term behavioral sciences encompass all the disciplines that explore the activities of and interactions among organisms in the natural world. It involves the—"

Her hand found his manhood. "Don't tease," she murmured, lightly squeezing his growing hardness. "Not if you value your manhood."

"Oh, I value it," he grunted, feeling himself grow even further under her touch. "Just don't grip too hard."

"Then tell me in words I can understand."

"Okay," he conceded with a grunt. "As long as you keep your hand there."

"Here?" the Indian beauty asked, stroking his shaft. Her fingers dropped to his balls. "Or here?"

"Yes," he grunted as his head flopped back against the headboard. This one was playful as well as sexy. He loved that. "There and there."

Her head turned on his chest again so that she could smile up into his eyes. One eyebrow rose theatrically and then she ran her tongue around his nipple again. "I will if you tell me, Bill Fawcett. You said you were just back from Geneva. What was that about?"

"You're really that interested?"

Her hand tightened threateningly around his shaft as she lightly bit his nipple.

"Okay, okay," he quickly grunted, instinctively trying to pull his body away from her menacing touch. "I was lecturing on whether music can affect a person's athletic performance."

"And can it?"

"Well, let's see," he said, sighing gratefully when her squeeze turned to a soft caress. "Just say you're one of my students. What do you think?"

Leila thought for a short while, idly cupping and caressing his heavy balls. "Yes," she eventually answered, reaching up to take the glass of half finished wine from him.

"And why do you think that?"

"Because I know it can affect your sexual performance. I lost my virginity to Ravel's Bolero. So if it can enhance your sex life, it must be able to do the same thing with your athletics achievements."

"I wish I'd known," he quipped, grunting as her stroking palm returned to his shaft. "I have some wonderful classical music. Maybe we can try out to different pieces and see which works best."

"Maybe we can," she laughed, slithering down the bed and pouring the remains of the wine over his cock. "What other things do you lecture on?"

He groaned as her tongue went to work. "You wouldn't believe it—anything that falls within my sphere."

"The wine tastes much better this way," she slurped, grinning up at him. "Such as?"

"Such as... why are there so many people called Steve living in London? Why does one person become addicted and not another? Why is the number of dyed-blonde haired men growing across the world—"

"Yesss" Her head shot up. "How weird is that? I've noticed it on our flights recently. But I'll tell you one thing, they haven't dyed their hair."

For a few seconds, the mouth hovering over his cock was forgotten. "They haven't?"

"No way. Have you ever seen any roots? A woman notices these things, especially an air stewardess. Standing above your customer helps you see everything. D'you know what else I think?"

His business face stared down at her. This was really interesting. "What's that?"

Her hand wrapped itself around the base of his shaft and her head tilted to one side. "Hmmm, well, as fascinating as you seem to find blonde guys, I think we need to find you another subject for your next lecture." Her tongue ran around the head of his cock. "How about we explore why Indian women give such good head? Want me to show you again?"

He groaned as her mouth descended. When she took him deep into her throat, all thoughts of anything other than those beautiful lips left him...

***

They'd been driving for an hour and a half. Susie was dozing in the passenger seat, despite the heavy rain battering the car, the constant flashes of lighting and the ominous rumbles of thunder overhead. She was naked except for the thick car coat that Bill had wrapped around her curvy black body. He was driving in just his damp boxers. The heating was turned up full and their wet clothes had been warming on the heated rear seats for the duration of their journey.

They should be pretty much dry by now.

Getting naked had sparked off another round of intense lovemaking, even though it would have been easy enough for any passer-by to see them. It hadn't taken long for them both to peak again and now it seemed the events of the last few hours were finally catching up with his girlfriend. He'd let her sleep for as long as it took. The rest might settle her down.

The main roads had long since turned into narrower country lanes and the weather was making it difficult to see clearly as he pushed the car to its limits. Despite the tiredness sweeping across his mind, the urgency of the journey and the pumping adrenalin inhabiting his body wouldn't let him rest. At long last, he had time and space to think things through.

Had the two cops outside his apartment really been looking for them? Why? What was the connection between what had happened at the Astoria and the police? Now he'd had a chance to clear his head, it suddenly made no sense. Had he panicked—blown things out of proportion? Their blonde hair had spooked him—that couldn't just be coincidence, could it?

It had taken a phone call to a trusted friend to acquire Steve Russo's address. Before his curious U-turn, The Old Man had thought the Head of Behavioral Sciences could help. He trusted Tom Watkins instincts and therefore that philosophy still applied. He could have telephoned Russo, of course, by a surprise visit made far more sense. He wanted face-to-face contact. If the man had blonde hair, his worst fears would be realised.

Before she'd fallen asleep, Susie had explained exactly what had happened to her after she'd interrupted Lydia and Harry in the restrooms. What she'd said had left him with a sense of incredulity. It couldn't even happen that way in a movie, could it? Some of the things she'd told him made no sense, not unless he was willing to believe the impossible.

Maybe whatever Harry had given her to enhance her sex drive had made her hallucinate, too?

Several of the pieces of information he was piecing together in his brain could be explained away. Others couldn't so easily be overlooked. And one or two demanded a fertile imagination. Logic led his thoughts down one route, but an open mind took him down a different path. One that even he was struggling to fully comprehend...

He kept asking himself one question. What if Susie hadn't been hallucinating?

The heavy tone of his car phone brought him out of his thoughts. Glancing at his girlfriend, he saw it had roused her from her sleep, too. She stared hazily at him for a few seconds and then at the dashboard. The caller ID told them it was Patrick.

Bill hesitated for a few seconds, internally debating the merits of taking the call. He decided there were more plusses than minuses. "Yes?"

"Bill? Where are you?"

"Close by," he lied, raising a finger to his lips as he glanced at his girlfriend. She'd pushed herself back in her seat, as if she was frightened by the voice.

"And Susie?"

"I dropped her home after we left the Astoria," he calmly said. "She was shaken by everything that had happened."

"Understandable."

Bill hesitated, trying to attune himself to Patrick's tone. The voice on the other end of the line had some emotion to it, not like Frankie's or The Old Man's. But there was still a mechanistic quality to it—not the bouncy, friendly quality he'd associate with the band member. Was he being paranoid? Or was this confirming his worst suspicions?

"It's late and we're worried about you," the voice continued.

"We?"

"The other band members. You're on your way to Charlie's?

Bill glanced at his watch. Four o'clock and the party was still underway? Or were they waiting for him?"

"I'll be there soon," he slowly answered.

"Good. Where exactly did you say you were?"

"Not too far away..."

The silence at the other end of the line lasted for a few seconds too long. "Harry said he'd had too much to drink and things got a bit out of hand with Susie. He wants to apologise."

"Yes?"

"Of course. And Lydia was trying to stop him. She was worried you might have jumped to the wrong conclusion when you saw them."

Bill choked back his immediate response. Susie's explanation had left him in no doubt as to what had happened, even if he still had difficulty in believing some of the detail. "I haven't had the chance to discuss that with Susie yet," he lied. "I will in the morning."

"Good. We'll see you soon?"

"Soon."

Pressing the button to end the call, he raised his eyebrows at his girlfriend. "That was interesting."

"He's lying!" She shouted out the words, her expressive eyes wide with alarm.

Bill reached an arm across and stroked the side of her cheek with the back of his hand. It was a comforting gesture. "I know, Susie," his soft voice told her. The conversation had removed some of the doubts that had been circling around his mind. However they'd got to his friend, that wasn't the Patrick he'd spoken to in the dressing rooms.

"Why did he call?"

"Checking up," he said, pulling a thoughtful face. "Hopefully I've been able to put him off the track for a while..."

***

The ease with which they had found Steve Russo's home contrasted with the length of the journey, although the size of the grounds was a surprise. This man was wealthy. A left at the crossroads had taken them along the minor road that ran parallel to the high wall and led to the wrought iron electric gates. Gaining access to the property wasn't going to be easy.

But that problem could wait a while longer.

No sooner had he suggested they get dressed and turned to reach for their clothes than Susie had been all over him. She'd already cum three times, easing off each time he approached his own climax. Now, it seemed, she was about to let him have the relief his body demanded.

As she somehow pirouetted on his lap to face in the opposite direction, he marveled at the way she was so easily able to balance herself back on him. When her body began to undulate on his like a series of waves on the sea, he almost came instantly. God, that was good...

He clutched those majestic breasts under her coat. The red-hot sensation of her heated sex was overwhelming him as he rolled her dark nipples in his palms. Their fucking earlier that night had been wild and frantic but the slow and sensual rhythm she'd established this time was even better.

"Good?" she whispered, arching her back and looking over her shoulder. With her arms planted on parts of the car either side of her, she had the perfect platform to control the pace.

"Yeah," he grunted, forcing himself to breath as she built the friction between wet pussy and hard cock. "I need to cum."

"Not yet," she told him, relaxing her tempo until she was just slowly rotating up and down on his hardness. That felt even better. Despite their situation, for a few moments there was nothing else in the world other than their coupling. "You like that?" her strained voice asked.

"Fuck, yes..."

"Or do you like this?" she asked, teasingly picking up the pace of her lap grind.

His hands gripped her breasts harder and he bit his lip. Somehow she'd switched from long undulations to small downward jerks and the car began to rock underneath their movements. The orgasm that hadn't been far away began to bubble.

"Tell me when you're nearly there," she whispered, looking back at him again.

"I'm close," he instantly replied, throwing his head back against the seat rest. His breath was coming in heavy pants as he tried to hold back and he could feel his cum gathering in his balls, preparing to release itself like a volcano spurting its lava.

"This is tricky,"

He gasped. "What is?"

She jammed down harder and he felt the geyser prepare to erupt.

"This is," she mumbled, swinging her body upwards and away from him. Somehow managing to kneel on the passenger seat, her lips covered him just in time to catch and swallow his first blast. Her frantic fingers jerked his juice-covered cock as her mouth milked him of the rest.

***

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 Indian woman had been everything he'd expected and more. From the moment they'd shared dinner and the gleam in her eyes had conveyed such promise, they had a connection. It had developed as a result of the genuine interest she'd taken in him, and grown even further once they'd fucked in his bed... and chair... and in the bath... and against the window.

She had a free weekend in a week after her transatlantic flight schedule and he'd invited her to spend that time with him. That was unusual for him, but the opportunity to experience that lush body again was too much to resist. His cock flexed inside his robe a second time.

His shower had refreshed him and the bourbon made him feel sanguine. Weren't the early hours of the morning a fantastic time of the day? Life was about as good as it could be...

He decided to check his emails while he finished the drink. He could catch up on his sleep after that. A couple of hours sleep was all he'd need to prepare himself for the rigours of the day.

***

"There's some sort of intercom on the pillar. We could call him," Susie murmured. Her clothes felt comforting and warm against her skin.

"And ask if he has blonde hair?" Bill answered, fastening the last button of his shirt. The look she gave immediately made him regret the sarcasm.

"We can't wait here all night..."

"We may not have to," he slowly said, peering across the road and through the gates. "See the lights?"

Her eyes followed the direction of his pointing finger. "What's that?"

"It's a taxi. Damn, it looks like he's leaving." The disappointment in his tone spat out with every word. "Great sense of fucking timing..."

They watched in silence as the cab drove towards them. When the heavy gates slid open to allow it through, the taxi swung past the Mercedes and continued on its way. Bill had the car door open in a split second. "Come on." He was halfway to the gate before Susie began to follow him and he screamed at her over his shoulder. "Come on, Susie. Move! Now!"

The surprised woman made it just inside the gate before it clanged shut, helped by Bill's grip on her arm that dragged her over the last couple of yards. "I thought you said—"

"That was a woman's outline in the taxi," he explained, the look on his face heavily on his mind. He needed to talk this through with Russo. "That suggests he's still at home. Besides, we haven't come all this way for nothing."

"That's swollen," she said, taking hold of his hand.

"I know," he grimaced. "It doesn't happen when James Bond hits someone. Come on—let's get moving."

Despite the pain, his grip tightened as he pulled her with him. He had no idea how far they'd have to walk along the heavily-lit tree lined lane. Staying close to the bushes wouldn't provide much protection from the rain but he'd take what he could get. Staying in the shadows would also hide them from the security cameras. He hadn't seen them at first and wondered if their entry through the gates would have been seen inside the house.