Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
One can't have it all, isn't it?Except Goldman lacks Burton's manly charm and charisma
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London Calling
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
windar
Teller of Tales
Except Goldman lacks Burton's manly charm and charisma
And you lack Liz's, well, assets.
Looks like you got your Ducks in a row.
Comon now don't Quack up! LOL!Oh Erin, that's so bad
What do you call a duck flying over the ocean? A saltine quacker! LOL!You two are quackers!
Barb 5
I was thinking I had probably punished Goldman enough by the time the porter left, looking bemusedly at the handful of odd coins of various provenance pressed into his palm. I was even thinking that taking the Underground rather than a taxi to the Dorchester may have been a bit over the top.
But then again, I didn't mind blowing Goldman's bank account on the swank hotel. The priceless look on his face was worth it! After all, the man had a reputation back st the precinct for being cheap. And when he refused to hand over his phone when I asked for it, I got mad all over again!
The backache, however, turned the tide. I really had been awfully mean to him. So I did the right thing and offered him one of my super massages. I could feel the tension melting away as a kneaded and rubbed, and I also saw my opportunity to snatch his phone and scurry into the bathroom to call my friend, Georgie.
Locking the door so as not to be disturbed, I called down to the desk and asked them to look up her number. That wasn't difficult. Being Georgie she was well known in all the right circles. They got back to me with a number within a quarter of an hour.
And then when I called her number she answered on the first ring.
"Oh, Barbs! Is it really you? In London you say? What a delightful surprise!"
"Yes, it's me Georgie. Sorry to show up like this without warning, but I am on this book tour, you see, and ..."
"Not another word. I want to see you immediately. I simply won't take no for an answer. Where are you staying, Barbs?"
"The Dorchester."
"Perfect. I will have my man around to pick you up in 10 minutes. I simply can't wait to see you again and hear all about that dreadful thing that happened to you! What was it ... some kind of crucifixion cult you got yourself involved in, wasn't it?"
"Well, I ...."
"Hush, my man is on his way to bring you to me. Go get ready!"
It took me five minutes to freshen up and burst out of the bathroom. Goldman was sitting on the bed waiting, all dressed and grinning happily.
"About time, Barb. You were in there awhile. Did you forget already that we have that interview with the BBC?"
"Oh, sorry Goldman. Georgiana is sending her man over to pick me up in a few minutes. Be a sweety and do the interview without me, ok?"
I planted a kiss on his forehead. He complained about having to do the BBC interview alone. I took a minute or two to placate him, including suggesting that I might get Georgie to join us for dinner with his friend Pritchard (even though I rather doubted she would). Then I tossed him his phone, which he had to dive to catch before it hit the floor, grabbed my bag and slipped out the door.
Georgie's man was there as promised, and whisked me off in a limo to a stately-looking townhouse on an elegant west-end London residential square. I was met at the door by Georgie, who embraced me warmly. We kissed. She held me back at arm's length to look me over.
"Oh Barbs, look at you!" she gushed approvingly.
"And you! haven't changed at all," I gushed back.
She led me inside, passing through the foyer and into a well-furnished sitting room. Seating herself on an overstuffed brown leather Chesterfield, she patted the cushion beside her and said, "Come sit. You an I have so much to talk about. Look! I have tea and biscuits ready here on the table, do help yourself Barbs."
I sat, selected a biscuit and nibbled its edge while she poured us each a cup. Then we talked. I told her about the Bronx Crux murders case, and how I had left Goldman tied to a bed and gotten myself abducted, and crucified naked in an old abandoned factory, and how I might have died if Goldman hadn't come to my rescue. She peppered me with questions and repeatedly expressed sympathy for what I had been through.
Then she regaled me with tales of her recent ribald adventures on a Mediterranean cruise aboard a yacht owned by a rich Arab sheik, and of her many other recent sexual adventures and conquests. Georgie hadn't changed at all! She was insatiable when it came to sex of any kind. Every eligible man she ever took a fancy to ended up in bed with her ... as yet another addition to her wall of trophies!
Eventually she got around to asking me about my relationship with Goldman, and I told her about what had happened in Rome and how I had been exacting merciless revenge on the poor man.
She nodded sympathetically, and while I was talking she moved closer as if to comfort me, but instead she began to open the buttons on the front of my shirt one by one and to murmur little things in my ear about what naughty fun we used to have as roommates back in college.
Then it was a hot kiss on my neck, a playful nibble at my ear, a full kiss on the mouth, followed by a series of rapid kisses down my chest while slipping my shirt and bra strap from my right shoulder.
By the time she deftly slid her hand inside my bra to cup and bare my right breast, taking it into her mouth and gently sucking and teasing my hardened nipple with rapid flicks of her tongue, I was losing it! I gasped, felt that old familiar tantalizing tingle and responded in kind.
It all happened so fast. Before I knew it we were both stretched out naked on the Chesterfield ... she on top of me, bodies locked in tight embrace, our wet pussies pressed together and slipping and sliding up-and-down and from side-to-side as our hips moved and bucked in unison.
Soon my head was thrown straight back, mouth gaping wide ... my sweaty backside alternately sticking to the leather and making a smacking suctioning noise as the tempo of our frenzied humping increased to a wild climax.
As I came ...I held ... white-knuckled ... onto the edges ... of the leather cushions. I gasped and moaned, arched my back ... went all stiff ... collapsed and finished with a long throaty scream of pleasure.
"Like old times, Barbs," she whispered in my ear as we lay side by side panting. I kissed her again and caressingly ran my hand up and down her back. She slid her thigh, still wet with my cum smeared all over it between mine.
We talked, laughed and did it twice more over the next hour or so.
We were even contemplating a fourth time when, suddenly remembering Goldman, I sat bolt upright.
"What time is it Georgie? I just remembered that Goldman was going to set up a dinner tonight with that old acquaintance of his from Scotland Yard!"
"Not another Roberto?" she laughed.
"I really don't know."
"Tell you what, Barbs, let's get dressed and both of us join them for dinner, what do you say?"
"Sure, why not?" I replied, as I was bending over and searching around on the floor for my kinis and bra.
I was thinking I had probably punished Goldman enough by the time the porter left, looking bemusedly at the handful of odd coins of various provenance pressed into his palm. I was even thinking that taking the Underground rather than a taxi to the Dorchester may have been a bit over the top.
But then again, I didn't mind blowing Goldman's bank account on the swank hotel. The priceless look on his face was worth it! After all, the man had a reputation back st the precinct for being cheap. And when he refused to hand over his phone when I asked for it, I got mad all over again!
The backache, however, turned the tide. I really had been awfully mean to him. So I did the right thing and offered him one of my super massages. I could feel the tension melting away as a kneaded and rubbed, and I also saw my opportunity to snatch his phone and scurry into the bathroom to call my friend, Georgie.
Locking the door so as not to be disturbed, I called down to the desk and asked them to look up her number. That wasn't difficult. Being Georgie she was well known in all the right circles. They got back to me with a number within a quarter of an hour.
And then when I called her number she answered on the first ring.
"Oh, Barbs! Is it really you? In London you say? What a delightful surprise!"
"Yes, it's me Georgie. Sorry to show up like this without warning, but I am on this book tour, you see, and ..."
"Not another word. I want to see you immediately. I simply won't take no for an answer. Where are you staying, Barbs?"
"The Dorchester."
"Perfect. I will have my man around to pick you up in 10 minutes. I simply can't wait to see you again and hear all about that dreadful thing that happened to you! What was it ... some kind of crucifixion cult you got yourself involved in, wasn't it?"
"Well, I ...."
"Hush, my man is on his way to bring you to me. Go get ready!"
It took me five minutes to freshen up and burst out of the bathroom. Goldman was sitting on the bed waiting, all dressed and grinning happily.
"About time, Barb. You were in there awhile. Did you forget already that we have that interview with the BBC?"
"Oh, sorry Goldman. Georgiana is sending her man over to pick me up in a few minutes. Be a sweety and do the interview without me, ok?"
I planted a kiss on his forehead. He complained about having to do the BBC interview alone. I took a minute or two to placate him, including suggesting that I might get Georgie to join us for dinner with his friend Pritchard (even though I rather doubted she would). Then I tossed him his phone, which he had to dive to catch before it hit the floor, grabbed my bag and slipped out the door.
Georgie's man was there as promised, and whisked me off in a limo to a stately-looking townhouse on an elegant west-end London residential square. I was met at the door by Georgie, who embraced me warmly. We kissed. She held me back at arm's length to look me over.
"Oh Barbs, look at you!" she gushed approvingly.
"And you! haven't changed at all," I gushed back.
She led me inside, passing through the foyer and into a well-furnished sitting room. Seating herself on an overstuffed brown leather Chesterfield, she patted the cushion beside her and said, "Come sit. You an I have so much to talk about. Look! I have tea and biscuits ready here on the table, do help yourself Barbs."
I sat, selected a biscuit and nibbled its edge while she poured us each a cup. Then we talked. I told her about the Bronx Crux murders case, and how I had left Goldman tied to a bed and gotten myself abducted, and crucified naked in an old abandoned factory, and how I might have died if Goldman hadn't come to my rescue. She peppered me with questions and repeatedly expressed sympathy for what I had been through.
Then she regaled me with tales of her recent ribald adventures on a Mediterranean cruise aboard a yacht owned by a rich Arab sheik, and of her many other recent sexual adventures and conquests. Georgie hadn't changed at all! She was insatiable when it came to sex of any kind. Every eligible man she ever took a fancy to ended up in bed with her ... as yet another addition to her wall of trophies!
Eventually she got around to asking me about my relationship with Goldman, and I told her about what had happened in Rome and how I had been exacting merciless revenge on the poor man.
She nodded sympathetically, and while I was talking she moved closer as if to comfort me, but instead she began to open the buttons on the front of my shirt one by one and to murmur little things in my ear about what naughty fun we used to have as roommates back in college.
Then it was a hot kiss on my neck, a playful nibble at my ear, a full kiss on the mouth, followed by a series of rapid kisses down my chest while slipping my shirt and bra strap from my right shoulder.
By the time she deftly slid her hand inside my bra to cup and bare my right breast, taking it into her mouth and gently sucking and teasing my hardened nipple with rapid flicks of her tongue, I was losing it! I gasped, felt that old familiar tantalizing tingle and responded in kind.
It all happened so fast. Before I knew it we were both stretched out naked on the Chesterfield ... she on top of me, bodies locked in tight embrace, our wet pussies pressed together and slipping and sliding up-and-down and from side-to-side as our hips moved and bucked in unison.
Soon my head was thrown straight back, mouth gaping wide ... my sweaty backside alternately sticking to the leather and making a smacking suctioning noise as the tempo of our frenzied humping increased to a wild climax.
As I came ...I held ... white-knuckled ... onto the edges ... of the leather cushions. I gasped and moaned, arched my back ... went all stiff ... collapsed and finished with a long throaty scream of pleasure.
"Like old times, Barbs," she whispered in my ear as we lay side by side panting. I kissed her again and caressingly ran my hand up and down her back. She slid her thigh, still wet with my cum smeared all over it between mine.
We talked, laughed and did it twice more over the next hour or so.
We were even contemplating a fourth time when, suddenly remembering Goldman, I sat bolt upright.
"What time is it Georgie? I just remembered that Goldman was going to set up a dinner tonight with that old acquaintance of his from Scotland Yard!"
"Not another Roberto?" she laughed.
"I really don't know."
"Tell you what, Barbs, let's get dressed and both of us join them for dinner, what do you say?"
"Sure, why not?" I replied, as I was bending over and searching around on the floor for my kinis and bra.
windar
Teller of Tales
Geez, Moore, you didn't tell me you were a switch-hitter. I might have known though, the way you've been acting weird and all. But your pal Georgie could have at least sent "her man" to pick us up at Victoria Station, so yours truly didn't have to tote your bags all over London just to get ditched for a girl.
Well, Bill and I are going to have to cook up something big and I mean BIG to get back at you. And Georgie too, while we're at it...
I might have known though, the way you've been acting weird and all. But your pal Georgie could have at least sent "her man" to pick us up at Victoria Station, so yours truly didn't have to tote your bags all over London just to get ditched for a girl. Well, Bill and I are going to have to cook up something big and I mean BIG to get back at you. And Georgie too, while we're at it...
Jon Smithie
Tribune
Barb 5
You know, ordinarily I don't read these stories for vanilla sex (well, let's call this one French vanilla) but that was a hot little scene. Short, but hot.
You know, ordinarily I don't read these stories for vanilla sex (well, let's call this one French vanilla) but that was a hot little scene. Short, but hot.
I'm handing my TV licence back.
Very reliable, is Georgie's man
You did say 'Georgie'? Not 'Dorothy'?
Blimey! I see what you mean!
Stamina
That's why you should eat three shredded wheat for breakfast!
Uh-oh! I hope Stan had his shredded wheat, too!
windar
Teller of Tales
Shredded wheat? Shredded F-ing wheat, Wragg? At the Dorchester? I have a feeling my co-author will be having the Champagne breakfast at 52 quid/each and I'd look pretty cheesy sitting there with a bowl of shredded wheat while she dines on San Daniele ham or wild smoked salmon with whipped Fontainebleau cheese and sips Laurent-Perrier brut champagne, wouldn't I?
http://brunch.london/media/1257973/the_promenade_breakfast_menu_1690614.pdf
windar
Teller of Tales
Stan 6
“What do you mean you’re not going to the interview? This is a book tour, Moore. We give interviews, people watch and then they run and buy our book. If they don’t, our next hotel stay will be at the Motel 6 in Akron, Ohio. Quite a come-down from the Dorchester.”
Moore sidled up to Stan looking very fetching and stroked his cheek. “I know that, darling. But you are so brilliant and good looking that I know you can do a killer interview all by yourself. You deserve to have the limelight without having to share it with me for once.” Stan’s bullshit detector was flashing red like the lights on the convoy that had converged on that Bronx warehouse to save Barb’s tight little. “Besides, Georgie has sent her man to pick me up and Georgie is someone who simply doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Will I get to meet this Georgie? You’re not, like ashamed to be seen with a broken down old cop like me in front of some fancy pants English duchess, are you?”
“Of course, not, you silly man,” Barb cooed. “Anyway, Georgie isn’t really a duchess. At least I don’t think so. I promise you’ll get to meet her, but I want to have a chance to catch up with her first. I haven’t seen her since graduation. Maybe we can have dinner with her and your friend Bill later this evening.”
“OK, but what will I tell the folks at the BBC?”
“Tell them I suddenly took sick. Tell them I’m having women’s problems. Make up something. I really have to go, because Georgie is always on time and I’m sure her man is waiting down in the lobby.” With that, Barb flounced out of the room, leaving Stan shaking his head. “Women!” he muttered to himself.
Stan finished dressing and descended to the lobby. Barb was nowhere to be seen-obviously Georgie’s man had been on time as Barb had suspected. Stan made his way across the lobby and asked the doorman to get him a taxi. He’d had quite enough of the Underground for one day.
As he got into the cab, his phone rang. “Stan, it’s Bill,” he heard, not that he wouldn’t have recognized the unmistakable voice of Inspector Bill Pritchard of Scotland Yard. They had worked three big cases together over the years, and Bill had flown over to New York twice, during which visits Stan had shown him a grand old time. “You finally made it to our bleedin’ crime-ridden hellhole of a city, Stan old chap,” Bill said.
“Yeah, in Rome I got to meet the Pope and here I got to lug baggage through the Underground.”
“I thought you had Barb whipped into shape in that old prison where the Romans threw those who are about to die, we salute you?”
“Well, she got a bit of revenge so far, but I suspect she doesn’t see the score as even. She’s hooked up with her old college roommate, some upper-crust broad named Georgie. What is it with this country? A girl named Georgie? Anyway, I have a funny feeling they’re cooking something up.”
“Speaking of which, Stan, I think we’re set for our little escapade at the Tower for tomorrow night. I’ve arranged everything with the head of security there, a chap I know quite well, by the name of Phillip Covington.”
“That sounds great, Bill,” Stan replied. “We just better be ready to handle Barb. She’s unpredictable. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with her half the time.”
“Well, I do hope you’re coming at least some of the time,” Bill said. Stan almost dropped the phone laughing. “But it would be nice to meet your lovely lady before the festivities.”
“Are you free for dinner, Bill?”
“For my favorite visiting Yank, of course.”
“Listen, the cab is pulling up at the BBC and I have to go and flog some books.”
“I thought you were tired from flogging Barb, old chap.” Stan almost dropped the phone again.
“You’re a funny man, Bill. Anyway, Barb said something about having dinner with you and her gal pal Georgie. I’ll call her right after the interview and see what’s up and get back to you.”
“That sounds splendid, Stan. Be careful with those media tigers. They’ll tear a poor small town boy like you apart if you’re not careful.”
“Sure thing, Bill. I’ll call you in a little while.”
“What do you mean you’re not going to the interview? This is a book tour, Moore. We give interviews, people watch and then they run and buy our book. If they don’t, our next hotel stay will be at the Motel 6 in Akron, Ohio. Quite a come-down from the Dorchester.”
Moore sidled up to Stan looking very fetching and stroked his cheek. “I know that, darling. But you are so brilliant and good looking that I know you can do a killer interview all by yourself. You deserve to have the limelight without having to share it with me for once.” Stan’s bullshit detector was flashing red like the lights on the convoy that had converged on that Bronx warehouse to save Barb’s tight little. “Besides, Georgie has sent her man to pick me up and Georgie is someone who simply doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Will I get to meet this Georgie? You’re not, like ashamed to be seen with a broken down old cop like me in front of some fancy pants English duchess, are you?”
“Of course, not, you silly man,” Barb cooed. “Anyway, Georgie isn’t really a duchess. At least I don’t think so. I promise you’ll get to meet her, but I want to have a chance to catch up with her first. I haven’t seen her since graduation. Maybe we can have dinner with her and your friend Bill later this evening.”
“OK, but what will I tell the folks at the BBC?”
“Tell them I suddenly took sick. Tell them I’m having women’s problems. Make up something. I really have to go, because Georgie is always on time and I’m sure her man is waiting down in the lobby.” With that, Barb flounced out of the room, leaving Stan shaking his head. “Women!” he muttered to himself.
Stan finished dressing and descended to the lobby. Barb was nowhere to be seen-obviously Georgie’s man had been on time as Barb had suspected. Stan made his way across the lobby and asked the doorman to get him a taxi. He’d had quite enough of the Underground for one day.
As he got into the cab, his phone rang. “Stan, it’s Bill,” he heard, not that he wouldn’t have recognized the unmistakable voice of Inspector Bill Pritchard of Scotland Yard. They had worked three big cases together over the years, and Bill had flown over to New York twice, during which visits Stan had shown him a grand old time. “You finally made it to our bleedin’ crime-ridden hellhole of a city, Stan old chap,” Bill said.
“Yeah, in Rome I got to meet the Pope and here I got to lug baggage through the Underground.”
“I thought you had Barb whipped into shape in that old prison where the Romans threw those who are about to die, we salute you?”
“Well, she got a bit of revenge so far, but I suspect she doesn’t see the score as even. She’s hooked up with her old college roommate, some upper-crust broad named Georgie. What is it with this country? A girl named Georgie? Anyway, I have a funny feeling they’re cooking something up.”
“Speaking of which, Stan, I think we’re set for our little escapade at the Tower for tomorrow night. I’ve arranged everything with the head of security there, a chap I know quite well, by the name of Phillip Covington.”
“That sounds great, Bill,” Stan replied. “We just better be ready to handle Barb. She’s unpredictable. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with her half the time.”
“Well, I do hope you’re coming at least some of the time,” Bill said. Stan almost dropped the phone laughing. “But it would be nice to meet your lovely lady before the festivities.”
“Are you free for dinner, Bill?”
“For my favorite visiting Yank, of course.”
“Listen, the cab is pulling up at the BBC and I have to go and flog some books.”
“I thought you were tired from flogging Barb, old chap.” Stan almost dropped the phone again.
“You’re a funny man, Bill. Anyway, Barb said something about having dinner with you and her gal pal Georgie. I’ll call her right after the interview and see what’s up and get back to you.”
“That sounds splendid, Stan. Be careful with those media tigers. They’ll tear a poor small town boy like you apart if you’re not careful.”
“Sure thing, Bill. I’ll call you in a little while.”
“I thought you had Barb whipped into shape in that old prison where the Romans threw those who are about to die, we salute you?"
Now hold on here. How did he know that? Don't tell me you've been circulating any pics or videos, Goldman!!!!!
You'll fie if you have
Now hold on here. How did he know that? Don't tell me you've been circulating any pics or videos, Goldman!!!!!
You'll fie if you have