Gender: N/A Age: N/A Location: N/A
|Introduction: Frank is introduced to members of an unusual club|
Chapter 3: The Party Begins
Confronted by the two police officers at the apartment door, Frank knew that his brief taste of freedom was over. They’d nail him for corruption of a minor, or indecent assault, or unlawful carnal knowledge - or anything else they could drag out of the statute book. His sex dream of the last two hours or so with Kim was now nothing more than a glorious memory - but one he’d keep forever.
Faced with the prospect of his imminent arrest, he subsided against the wall just inside the door and turned his head resignedly to look at the police once more. The male officer addressed him.
“Your name Frank?” asked the sergeant, in that tone of cold formality for which they are famous.
“Yeah,” drawled Frank, nodding his head wearily.
Then a pause, until the policewoman asked, in a similar tone, “So where’s Charlie?”
Frank nodded down the hallway. “Through there,” he added, dejectedly.
Without saying another word, the cops pushed past him and set off down the passage, leaving Frank slumped against the wall. Which, he thought, was odd: not what he was anticipating. He called after them, speaking to their retreating uniformed arses.
“What’s gonna happen to Kim?”he enquired, raising his voice to reach them before they turned the corner out of sight.
The female officer stopped, turned and replied, simply, “Who?” before turning back to follow her sergeant towards the kitchen-diner.
Again, Frank was totally unable to grasp what was happening to him. Ever since he had been released from jail, nothing seemed to be going according to his expectations - the good bits or the bad. Maybe if was the scotch: maybe he’d taken too much of it, too fast. Or maybe, in one of those titanic come explosions he’d experienced with Kim, he’d shot his brains through the hole in his dick, too. After briefly contemplating making a run for it - an idea he quickly dismissed, considering he was wearing only a towel -he shook his head to try to focus his mind, closed the apartment door again and returned down the hallway.
He wanted to know what was about to happen to Charlie, but needed to get some clothes on fast. Back in the bedroom he dressed quickly, his mind racing to make sense of any of this day. When fully clothed again, he picked up Kim’s discarded ‘school uniform’ and bag and headed first for the bathroom, where she was still drying her hair. He managed to leave her gear with her, not trying to explain anything that was going on elsewhere in the apartment; since he couldn’t explain it, there was no point trying to tell Kim.
On reaching the living-dining area again, Frank was surprised - yet again, but by now he was beginning to get used to that - to find Charlie and the two police officers sharing drinks and jokes, laughing together like old friends. Glancing across to the other couple, the ill-assorted priest-and-slut combination, Frank noted that they, too, were enjoying drinks and each other’s company, while not quite being part of the separate police scene. Frank’s look passed from one group to the other and back again several times, before mentally giving up. Defeated, he called to Charlie, who broke off his conversation with the representatives of justice and turned to him questioningly.
“I need a word,” said Frank. “In private?” he added, nodding his head towards the door.
Charlie, registering his friend’s bewilderment, excused himself from the two cops and followed Frank into the main bedroom, a slight smile playing round his lips. When he got there, Frank closed the door firmly and turned to him.
“Charlie, what the fuck is going on here?”
Charlie, a picture of transparency and openness, told him, “We’re having a party, Frank. In honour of your return to the world. Trust me, it’s going to be a lot of fun.”
“But the police ...?” Frank prompted.
“Police?” Charlie appeared momentarily disorientated; then light seemed to dawn. “Oh, you mean Nancy and Jack. I’ve known them for years. They’re not police,” he added reassuringly.
“But then why ...? Frank was about to continue when Charlie interrupted him.
“And, come to that, Matt’s not a priest, nor Linda a slut - well, depends what you mean by slut, I suppose, but ...”
“Then why are they here?” Frank persisted.
“Like I said, it’s a party.” Charlie looked at Frank’s exasperated face and decided the time for teasing was over. “OK, it’s a special kind of party. Matt, Lin, Jack and Nancy are all members of this club. Half a dozen more will be here soon,” he said, consulting his watch.
“Club?” asked Frank. “What sort of club? What do they do in this club?”
“Fuck,” replied Charlie.
His one-word response put an instant stop to Frank’s questions. He was stunned for a few seconds. Charlie proceeded to explain.
“This club has about twenty or thirty members, all up, including the small group today. They’re all normal, horny people, who happen to be sexual exhibitionists - and who love to be able to display their sexual talents. The club offers them the opportunity to, shall we say, indulge their hobby. For this reason, they like to dress for the part, which also appeals a lot to the punters.”
“Punters?” murmured Frank, finally able to speak again.
“People who love to watch the people who love to display,” explained Charlie simply. “And the punters pay handsomely for the privilege. Today there’ll be about ten or so. They’ve already met all the costs of this apartment. And they’ll start to arrive in ...” here he looked again at his watch, “... about an hour.”
Frank looked around the bedroom again and recalled the apartment’s other opulent features. “But it must have cost them a packet ...” he started to say.
Charlie tapped his finger twice against his nose, the historical and international symbol indicating the ‘commercial in confidence’ nature of his information. It wasn’t necessary for Frank to be fully informed of the bookkeeping details. But he did elaborate slightly.
“They can well afford it,” he admitted. “And, believe me, they get their money’s worth. Like I said, it’s going to be a lot of fun. Something like this has been going on in dozens of cities in Europe and elsewhere for decades. Not exactly like this club but on nightclub premises to which the public are invited - for an entrance fee - to watch. The ‘demonstrators’ pay, too, but nothing like as much.”
Frank grinned at Charlie, partly out of relief at finally rationalizing his bewilderment, partly at the sheer scale of the ‘club’ operation. He slowly shook his head in admiration of all the organization that must have gone into it. As he did so, he noticed something which he had earlier assumed to be just part of the ceiling lighting. On closer examination, however, it turned out to be a tiny video camera, trained on the king-size bed. Frank’s gaze flicked across the room, registering the location of several other such devices.
Charlie, following his eye lines, confirmed Frank’s guess: “All areas are covered - in case there’s not enough room for spectators, or just to help them make a decision about where they’d like to go next.” Then, in answer to Frank’s unspoken question, he added, “Follow me. Watch this.”
He led Frank back to the living area, where the four early arrivals were still socializing. Charlie opened a panel Frank had not noticed on his earlier visits to the open plan room, to reveal a video wall, with about twenty screens, dimly revealing areas where the action would be taking place. Frank recognized his bedroom and the bathroom, where Kim was visible combing her hair, by now dry again. Some screens showed parts of the living area; the others he assumed to be the second bedroom.
“When it’s all properly lit, anyone can watch from here - or join the fun ‘on site’,” said Charlie. Then he suddenly frowned, saying, “Which reminds me. Can you and Kim take a walk for an hour or so?” In anticipation of Frank’s next question he pressed a C-note into his hand, adding, “We need to prepare your room. That OK with you?”
* * * * *
Over their free meal, Frank tried to bring Kim up to speed about the true purpose of the apartment, though he found the whole thing barely credible himself. Kim just listened open-mouthed. She had been involved with groups before but nothing this well organized or funded. Her curiosity was aroused; it would make a change for her to be a spectator, not just an escort chick.
When they let themselves back into the apartment the whole scene was totally transformed. Everywhere was now dimly lit; the lighting circuit for the whole place must have been on check, like a theatre stage. Also, there were now somewhere between twenty and thirty people there talking, drinking, smoking - possibly into recreational drugs, though that was not obvious. About half of them were wearing some kind of uniform; the other half were in plain, though expensive, clothes, several men in tuxedos, accompanied by elegant women in high fashion dresses. Throughout the apartment the sound system relayed music at low level, neutral but rhythmic and insistent.
Frank and Kim went to the bar, helped themselves to drinks and surveyed the strange gathering, trying to separate the guests from the performers. As well as the ‘priest’, the ‘slut’, the two ‘police officers’ and ‘cheerleader’ Julie, there were now a ‘doctor’ and a ‘nurse’, both in hospital whites and carrying medical accessories such as stethoscope and rubber gloves. Then there were two ‘newly-weds’ (the ‘groom’ in formal wedding suit and the ‘bride’, a stunning blonde, in full wedding dress, gloves and veil - ‘the whole box and dice,’ thought Frank). Next they noticed an ‘airline stewardess’ smartly and alluringly attired in full flight-deck uniform, with matching jacket and skirt, crisp shirt, neck scarf and sheer black stockings encasing her shapely legs. Finally there was a trim, fit and good-looking black athlete wearing track suit pants and a t-shirt that strikingly revealed the muscles of his chest and abdomen. During the past hour, Charlie had somehow joined the US Navy and was now every inch the ‘sailor’ on shore leave, looking for a good time - and knowing he was going to get it.
Some of the pairings were easy to pick, some less so; but, if they were all club members as Charlie had said, Frank predicted to himself that some would be ‘swingers’, changing partners later in the evening. Like Kim, he was curious to see how events would develop. How would the highly paying guests react to it all? They seemed no different from any group you would meet at an ordinary cocktail party, looking around at the apartment and at the performers with casual interest.
After another half hour or so, Charlie opened the video wall panel and threw a few switches, throwing light on the focuses of the main action, leaving the surrounding areas in relative dimness. This simple device allowed the guests to engage with each other discreetly, just out of the spotlights; it was a house rule, understood by all present, that no interaction with the performers was allowed.
The first couple to excuse themselves were the ‘newly-weds’, as if to begin their honeymoon. They made for the second bedroom for their ‘wedding night’, the ‘bride’ even throwing a bouquet over her shoulder to be caught by one of the female guests. The happy couple were followed by about six of the guests - and Frank and Kim - the rest content to watch the video wall or to await other ‘shows’.
Frank, who, after all, had never seen anything like this before, felt sure the ‘bride’ and ‘groom’ must be professional actors; their behaviour seemed to him totally authentic and even their dialogue was believable - if you believed in old-fashioned couples with old-fashioned values. They gave a performance that was at once realistic and incredibly arousing, speaking and acting only for each other, totally ignoring the watchers around the walls of the room.
The ‘bride’ was the first to speak: “Oh honey, we’re here at last. On our first night together. I’m so glad we waited, aren’t you? It wouldn’t have meant the same if we’d had sex before this. Now we belong to each other.” She embraced the ‘groom’ warmly.
“I can hardly wait, Vicky. I’ve wanted you for so long,” he replied, holding her tightly.
“We don’t have to wait any longer, Tom” she whispered huskily, dropping her voice slightly as if in shyness. “We can do it right now. Right here.” Then, turning away from him for a second, offering him the rear fastenings of her wedding dress, she asked, “Can you help me out of this?”
He painstakingly removed her veil and released the bodice of her wedding dress. When she stepped out of the dress she placed it carefully across the foot of the bed and turned to face him again. She presented a picture of such blatant eroticism that it drew a low murmur of appreciation from the watchers, both male and female.
Her bridal gloves and undergarments were all in pure virginal white but had been chosen for maximum sexual appeal. She wore a bustier that lifted her gorgeous breasts high, gently pushing them together; her stiffening nipples were visible above it, the areolae a deepening pink, as if blushing. Her stockings were sheer white, with broad lacy tops and were attached to a satin garter belt by white suspenders. Her sheer panties, embroidered in lace and scalloped at each side of the crotch in white lace, frankly displayed her sex, finely covered with a pubic down that revealed her to be a true blonde. The guests, if able to tear their gaze away from this magnetic sight, would have seen her stockinged feet in white patent leather shoes, with heels just high enough to show off her perfect legs.
Like all the other watchers, particularly the male ones, Frank was highly aroused. His prick stiffened painfully in his denims. Kim, alert to his condition, subtly reached down, opened his fly and adjusted his penis into the upright position for which it so clearly ached. Frank, who had his arm around her, gently held her young breast and pressed it in response.
Tom, after allowing all the watchers - and himself - sufficient time to absorb the effect of the delicious spectacle of his young ‘wife’s’ intimate apparel, took off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, removed his shirt and tie and, now with an understandable urgency, dropped his trousers, quickly placing them on a chair. His own erection was now concealed only by his underpants, which were tented out towards Vicky. Then, partly for the benefit of his audience, and partly to elicit the appropriate response from his ‘bride’, he slowly hooked his thumbs into his waist band and eased the undergarment over the end of his outstretched cock. His newly wedded ‘wife’ expressed a shocked disbelief when the full extent became visible, a sentiment shared by watchers right round the room.
“Oh my God! It’s so big! Please be careful, honey. Remember it’s my first time,” she begged.
As she said this, she had stepped back, her white-gloved hands raised to her face in astonishment at what he had just revealed. This brought the back of her knees suddenly against the bed, which toppled her onto it, causing her breasts to shiver slightly in her bustier, almost as if in excited fright. Seemingly alarmed at the prospect of being penetrated by this large and threatening rod, she recoiled, leaning shyly up on one elbow and raising one knee, placing the sole of that foot on the coverlet. This threw the contours of her pussy into pouting relief in her sheer panties, a sight that brought another low murmur from the audience.
Tom, presumably after many months of abstinence and sexual deprivation by his beloved, knew his time had finally arrived. With his distended cock bobbing almost vertically in front of him, he removed his socks and approached his ‘bride’, knelt and buried his face between her legs, nuzzling her crotch through her knickers. She began to make little noises of mock protest at this invasion of her private parts but everyone in the room knew she was loving every second of it. Her ‘groom’, his face deeply embedded between Vicky’s spread thighs and licking her pussy through her delicate transparent lingerie, gently stroked his erection, in trembling anticipation of the moment when he would finally take her ‘virginity’.
The atmosphere in the room was electric. The guests, all paired off, were plainly caressing each other; some were moaning quietly, all breathing heavily. One or two of the women were openly masturbating their partners or themselves; everywhere there was the familiar smell of sexual arousal. One woman was seen to whisper something into her partner’s ear and he nodded in silent reply.
Tom’s fist began to move more quickly over his taut cock flesh, his tongue pressing hard against Vicky’s clitoris. The watchers knew his moment was fast approaching. Suddenly he froze, grasped Vicky’s panties with both hands and drew them quickly down to her ankles and onto the floor, revealing for the first time the startlingly blonde bush at the junction of her thighs. He stood and gave his eager prick a few more strokes, while Vicky sat up and touched it gingerly with her gloved hands before subsiding again. Tom then moved forward to present the throbbing head to his ‘bride’s’ sex.
Immediately there were more protesting noises from Vicky, who seemed to be in pain: “Oh! No, honey. It’s too big! It hurts! Please stop!”
Tom, grunting with frustration in reply, muttered, “Jesus, I can’t get it in. You’re so tight! It’s like an iron fist around the head of my cock!”
He made several more vainly exploratory thrusts before withdrawing and reaching for the bedside cabinet. He took out a tube of lubricant (‘presumably placed there for the purpose,’ thought Frank) and poured a liberal amount into the palm of his other hand. First anointing his huge organ, making it glisten under the spotlight, he then moistened his middle finger and inserted it slowly into Vicky’s cunt, producing a whimper from her, part pain, part pleasure, part anticipation.
Finally, he leant forward again, supporting his weight on one arm and once more presented his bursting prick to the entrance of her vagina. Slowly, slowly he entered her, an inch at a time, the way apparently eased by the lotion. Then, after a few seconds, with Vicky gazing anxiously up into his fiercely intent face and gasping beneath him, he grunted again and, with one strong thrust, was suddenly sheathed inside her to the hilt.
After Vicky’s brief scream, other sounds, from the bedroom’s unlit perimeter, indicated that some of the guests, unable to control themselves any longer, had succumbed to shuddering orgasms; some could be dimly seen jerking spasmodically as they came. Kim looked up at Frank, wondering whether he was in the same condition - or wished to be. She gave his stiff prick a brief stroke but he stopped her, preferring to delay his own pleasure. In return, though, he slid his hand under her skirt and into her knickers, stroking her gently through her soft pubic hairs and dipped his fingers into her moist little pussy. She was very wet, obviously highly aroused by the ‘defloration’ taking place in front of them. Frank skimmed her clit briefly before returning his attention to the action.
Tom had begun to move slowly again, very gently sawing in and out of Vicky, to her obvious pleasure, all pain - or pretence of it - now replaced by sensual bliss. She kept exciting Tom with little squeals of delight and inconsequential phrases: “Oh, that feels so good ... oh, don’t stop ... keep doing it ... oh, deeper ... ah yes, harder ...”
After a while, Tom managed expertly to turn her over so as to straddle him. While he continued to fuck into her, the position encouraged Vicky to rise and fall of her own volition on his upthrust cock. The audience were then treated to the irresistibly arousing sight of the puckered rosebud of her anus just above the blonde-fleeced split of her vulva as it struggled to accommodate Tom’s magnificent penis. On each upward stroke the quietly murmuring watchers could see its shining wetness, lubricated both by the lotion and the ‘virgin bride’s’ own juices.
The act was too delicious to last long. To the delight of the whole room, the appreciative watchers saw Vicky suddenly go rigid, watched her buttocks clench at the top of a stroke, and heard her shout, “Oh! I’m doing it!” Then, with a grunting gasp, she thrust down hard, right to the root of Tom’s prick, her blond muff totally obscuring his straining tool as her cunt gripped it convulsively and pulsed out her orgasm.
Tom’s followed very quickly. The repeated clutching spasms of her pussy drove him helplessly over the edge. Grabbing her buttocks tightly, he thrust forcefully upwards two or three more times, sending her whole body bouncing up, momentarily revealing again the slickness of his penis; then, supporting her in his outstretched hands, he came hard, violently spurting his seed into her, his own buttocks seen to clench and his cock visibly twitch as it released his long-delayed tribute of lust. Finally, as the two lovers descended, gasping and groaning, from their peaks of ecstasy, the ultimate rapturous spectacle offered to the tense and temporarily hushed watchers was the gradual appearance of a thick stream of sperm from Tom’s copious emission of come, oozing from Vicky’s cunt, its blonde fringe now visibly damp from their exertions. The viscous white syrup trickled slowly down his still erect cock, pooling onto his balls as they lay, exhausted, on the bed’s coverlet.
Several of the watching guests - of both sexes - who, mesmerized by the exquisite performance of the act of love they had just witnessed, had been deferring their own pleasure, absolutely could not resist taking it now. By the dim reflected light from the supposed newly-weds’ bride-bed, Frank and Kim could make out from everywhere round the room the faint sights and sounds of masturbation and the half-repressed grunts and squeals and sighs of sexual release as the women frigged and clutched themselves as their bodies jack-knifed and the men shot their semen into their own or over their partners’ hands.
As Frank and Kim wandered back to the main living room with other guests, Frank thought to himself, ‘If that wasn’t genuine, it was the best act I’ve ever seen.’ Back at the video wall, a second scenario - albeit a more modest one - was beginning to play out, whether provoked by the action covered by closed circuit TV in the second bedroom, or independently, it was impossible to say - and irrelevant, anyway.
Here, the ‘priest’ (Matthew, according to Charlie) was sitting on a leather lounge next to the ‘slut’ (Linda), his cassock turned up above his waist to reveal his naked erect penis pointing stiffly to the ceiling, his head thrown back (perhaps in ecstasy, though certainly not one of the religious kind), while Linda extracted a condom from a foil packet. Placing the rubber in her mouth, she bent over and, using only the muscles of her lips and tongue, with expert professional skill slid it over the head of his prick and rolled it all the way down, adroitly engulfing his priestly manhood.
The guests in attendance were watching with some fascination the uncommon contiguity of a Catholic priest and a condom. They stood, or sat in other lounges and armchairs, opposite or close by ‘Father‘ Matthew and Linda as their unholy communion proceeded. Having totally covered his organ, Linda seemed content for a while simply to grasp the protected prick and to wank it slowly and steadily. ‘Father’ Matthew was similarly undemanding - at first. Then Linda did something that made him - and the watchers - concentrate more closely on her. She shifted in her seat, briefly relinquishing his dick long enough to pull her miniskirt still higher, to reveal that she was wearing crotchless panties.
It is something of a mystery - but a fact, nonetheless - why these familiar but usually unadvertised garments are so much more provocative than no panties at all but, to judge from the reaction from the male watchers, Linda’s certainly were. While the females in attendance merely smiled indulgently, it was obvious that the men were getting instant erections. ‘Father’ Matthew, who may have looked like a priest but was also very much a man, had a respectable erection already but, inflamed - at least in his mind - by the unexpected sight before his eyes, he began to take a more active part in the proceedings. As Linda resumed the manual stimulation of his prick, he leant over and extended his finger to feel for himself the touch and texture of the female pudenda. And also the taste, as, having dabbled his fingers in her damp little slit for a few seconds, he withdrew them, carried them to his mouth and sucked them clean.
This simple and relatively undemonstrative act was received with curious interest by both male and female guests, who were seen to move slightly in their seats to help relieve a certain itch that had suddenly manifested itself upon contemplating how a ‘priest’ could deal so indecently with a ‘slut’ - and she with him. Their discomfort was to be increased over the next few minutes, as Linda warmed to her theme.
Without further ado she briefly stood and, facing her audience with her back to the ‘priest’, she threw a leg over to straddle his own - which were slightly parted - and guided his upstanding rubber-covered member into her conveniently uncovered sex slit. In a more subtle touch, she bit her lip gently and moaned a little as she eased her cunt down over his prick, suggesting that in accommodating him she felt a difficulty which in reality might have been rather fanciful.
Eventually, after one or two further protestations about what a big cock he had, how tight she was, and reminding him that what they were doing was ‘so naughty’, the act of penetration was completed. ‘Father’ Matthew’s eager cock was totally obscured, his balls just visible beneath Linda’s wide-spread limbs, her knees slightly raised. This spectacle, enhanced by the vision of her hold-up stockings framing the tableau, produced a soft but audible intake of breath in some of the guests.
Linda began to ‘play’ her audience psychologically as she confidently played her ‘priest’. “C’mon, Father Matthew,” she exhorted over her shoulder in her rather deep husky voice, “fuck that pussy. I know you’ve always wanted to do it. I could hear you wanking in the confessional while I was telling you what a bad girl I’d been. Do it to me now.”
And she started to slide slowly up and down his straining penis, interspersing her occasional moans and whimpers with further ‘revelations’ in the same vein, thoroughly enjoying the role of the naughty girl being encouraged to misbehave by her randy Father Confessor. From time to time during her astonishingly candid discourse, Matthew responded by interrogating her semi-formally. That most of the audience could not see his face, because obscured by Linda’s rising and falling body, contributed to the illusion of a hidden cleric hearing her confession.
Linda would say, reflectively, “When I heard you rub yourself and groan, I would sometimes use my fingers to get off.”
“You masturbated while making your confession?” enquired a seemingly shocked ‘Father’ Matthew.
“Yes,” acknowledged Linda in a lower voice. “But I could hear you doing it, too, so I thought that was OK.”
“How many times did you do this?” he asked, in a conciliatory tone.
“Only when I couldn’t get to see my boyfriend: if he was on holiday, or out of town or for any other reason we couldn’t meet. When we were together, he used to do me, so I never used to touch myself then.”
Matthew’s ‘interrogation’ continued: “You permitted him to - touch you - there?”
“Oh yes, but only if he’d let me do him back,” Linda replied.
“You mean, you touched him - intimately - as well?” asked the scandalized ‘priest’. “Tell me what took place, my child. Tell me everything you did together.”
The watching - and listening - guests became aware that the pace of Linda’s pussy sliding up Matthew’s erect penis was gradually increasing. As the ‘confession’ proceeded, the couple on the leather lounge seemed to become more animated. The more salacious the details, the more energetic the movements. Matthew began to moan quietly.
“And - you took his - erect penis - in your mouth?” prompted a quavery voiced Matthew.
“Yes, he liked that best. He said it made him come harder,” replied Linda, whose voice was also audibly affected.
“But, surely ...“ prodded the ‘Father Confessor’, “... you didn’t let him - actually - discharge into your mouth?”
Linda was fucking rapidly now on Matthew’s cock and, because of the powerful movement, she was beginning to have trouble staying articulate. “Oh yes,” she moaned, “I loved it, too. I loved that best of all. When he was getting close, he used to hold my head and push his prick deep inside my mouth. I knew he was going to come and I sucked him harder. Ohh ...”
Whether because of this vivid and graphic reminiscence, or the snug presence of Matthew’s penis in her love channel, or possibly a combination of the two, it was at this moment that Linda came, groaning loudly. In spite of this, however, she managed, remarkably, to keep up the running commentary.
“He shot so much spunk, I couldn’t keep it all in. I had to swallow it. But I loved it. I loved the taste of it.”
A protracted groan, followed by an urgent grunt emanated from the half-concealed ‘priest’. Linda, recognizing the signs, immediately slipped off him, back onto the lounge alongside him again. As she did so, the guests were regaled with the rare and extraordinary sight of a clergyman filling the end of a condom with his ejaculation, his hips thrusting and buttocks clenching as the throe continued, finally falling back limp and exhausted.
Before any of those watching could react, or consider whether they had been aroused, amused or outraged by what they had just witnessed, a voice was raised loudly somewhere in the passageway outside. Some people turned towards the direction of the sound, some to consult the screens on the video wall.
The voice outside called again, more insistently: “Nurse! Where are you?”
“Yes, doctor, I’m here” came the reply.
“I need your assistance. In the bathroom, if you please.”
The ‘punters’ who decided to be present ‘on site’, as Charlie had described it, began to move out in the general direction of the bathroom. As they did so, they caught side of the retreating figure of a white-coated doctor, followed at some distance by a highly attractive and buxom nurse, who was just pulling on the second of her rubber gloves.
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