RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter 14:- Breakfast Time


 
 
  Mrs Danby whirled round with the vacuum cleaner. "This place is like a tip. And I've lost a whole day with that bloody lot. Now that little tart Lucy wants a new bra." She clattered the vac into the furniture. It made her feel slightly better.
At least, Mrs Danby had all those people out from under her feet. Maxwell had gone off to have a bath and a shave. Charlotte had volunteered to scrub his back. That had been half an hour ago. Mrs Danby had given Lucy the bra style catalogue to look through, but she had to shoo the girl out of the room when she had immediately settled down to browse through it in the armchair, accompanied by Jacqui, Donna and Lynda.
"Go and read it in one of the bedrooms," she had yelled at them, and the girls had disentangled themselves and hurried off, pawing each other eagerly as they went.
Mrs Danby switched off the cleaner and went over to the makeshift crib where the twins gurgled up happily at her.
"Hello, darlings! Ooh, you are pretty little girlies, aren't you? Pretty, pretty, pretty? Yes!" She wiped her eyes with her hankie and chided herself sternly. "You're just a big softie, Danby." "Down here, Geoff, on the left, by that lamp post."
Geoff stopped the van but left the engine running. Already, the sun was hot through the windshield.
"Come on, switch the engine off, then!" Debbie touched his arm. "It's all right. I already phoned Duncan. He's given us the day off. Switch it off! Are you coming in or not?"
Geoff switched the engine off and turned to Debbie. She was already getting out.
"The stuff will be okay in the van, but bring the camera indoors. It will be safer in there tonight."
"Tonight? It's not even ten o' clock in the morning yet." Debbie ducked her head back in the door. "We both need a long soak in a hot bath and we only had an hour's sleep last night. Are you coming or not?"
"I'm coming," said Geoff happily.
"Try not to come too soon," Debbie giggled, slamming the door shut.
 
 
  Maggie woke up and blinked around her, wondering where she was. Then she groaned. The Swan at Uddersdale, she remembered. On reflection, she supposed, she had been lucky to get a room at all with the holiday season getting into its full swing. But this room was hardly luxury. It was up four flights of stairs, and two of the walls sloped inwards. The room was obviously right up in the attic.
"The view's lovely from up here," the manager had told her as he carried her tiny emergency overnight bag up the stairs. "You'll see in the morning. Sorry there's no bathroom en suite. Go down one flight of stairs and you'll find a bathroom at the end of the passage." He had stared unnervingly at her breasts for a while before leaving her alone and clumping away down the stairs.
She sat up. The sun was shining through the curtains, but it was deathly quiet outside. Water was gurgling into a tank somewhere very close to her room. No wonder there's no bathroom up here, she thought. We're higher up than the water tank. The sound of running water made her uncomfortably aware of her need to pee. In fact, as she lay there, hoping the feeling would go away, she realised she wanted more than just a pee. She rolled out of the narrow bed, and stood on one foot then the other, rummaging in her bag for her washing things. No dressing gown, she didn't even have a nightie on. The only one she had with her was now far too tight around the bust.
Desperate to get to the lavatory, she yanked the sheet off the bed and draped it around her shoulders, then edged her way round the bed to the door. Huddled in the sheet, she stepped out of the room, looking both ways up and down the passage. That way!
Maggie didn't know how it happened. A sudden breeze seemed to spring up, and the bedroom door swung shut. "Oh, fuck it!" She tried the handle, and realised with a sinking heart that the door had locked itself. The keys were inside, on the dressing table. Here she was, with only a sheet to cover herself. And she needed to get to the loo before she did something very embarrassing right here in the passageway.
She set off for the door at the end of the passage. She had only gone a couple of paces before she was pulled up short and almost jerked off her feet. "Oh, my Holy Christ," she groaned, as she surveyed the extent of this latest disaster. Locked out of her room, without a key, and with nothing but a bed sheet to wear, and the end of the sheet was caught in the door. Writhing and clutching at herself in agony from the pressure down below, she tugged at the sheet. Squinting without her glasses — her nose about six inches from the door lock — she investigated. It was well and truly stuck. She pulled harder. It wouldn't come loose. She couldn't even tear it, her fingers weren't strong enough.
There was nothing for it. With tears of rage and frustration pouring down her cheeks, Maggie dashed for the door. She made it down the stairs and as far as the bathroom all right, and locked the door after her. At least, she was able to get some relief from her most pressingly immediate emergency.
"I can't sit here all day," she said to herself. "It's still quiet outside, nobody's up yet. If I go now, I should be able to make it back to the room without being seen. But there's no point, is there? I can't get in! I can't go downstairs to the reception desk." She stood up and wiped herself. "There's only one thing for it. Room Twelve is only down two more flights of stairs. I'll be able to shelter and get help from Rick and Kay. It shouldn't be too hard to find the room. Come on, Margaret. Take courage."
She blundered around in the bathroom, searching for a towel, an old dressing gown, anything to cover herself. Nothing, nothing at all. Bleating, she grabbed the only thing she could find, the little mat that fitted round the front of the toilet bowl for men to dribble on to. It was made of fleecy pale blue candlewick. She held it up against herself, wondering where to hold it for best results.
"So long as I don't meet anybody, I won't need it," she said helplessly, but she took it with her anyway. Out she went, and pelted headlong down the corridor. There was a sign on the wall, but she couldn't read it, even from six inches. All she could tell was that an arrow pointed to the left with room numbers on it. Did it say 8 to 10, or was it 6 to 13. She went that way, and found another door in front of her. She opened it, and found herself outside, on a fire escape.
It was a lovely view, but Maggie wasn't in a mood to appreciate it.
With a yelp of terror, she clawed her way back in again and retraced her steps. The corridor went up three steps, then immediately down five and up another two. It turned left, went through another fire door, and into a broad corridor with rich, deep carpeting which curled up around her bare toes. At least, down here, the room numbers weren't painted on the doors like her own Room Thirty-One. They were solid numbers, screwed on.
She felt the first one she came to. Sixteen. The next one was Fifteen. The right direction, at least. Round the corner, and down some stairs. She was halfway down when she felt a cool draught of air and realised she was almost down to the ground floor. She bleated and turned, galloping upstairs again, her breasts bouncing painfully.
Through another door. Fourteen. Twelve. No! Twelve A. Bloody superstitious bunch! Ah, here it was. Room Twelve. She grabbed the handle and pushed. It was locked!
"God, what are they up to in there, locking themselves in?" She rattled the door handle and knocked quietly. Louder. As loud as she dared. No reply. Rick and Kay were either sound asleep or otherwise engaged.
Then Maggie froze. Someone was coming up the stairs. Not boldly, the way people usually go upstairs. Someone was creeping up. Several pairs of feet! There was a lot of shushing going on. Maggie had just been to the toilet but she needed a pee again. Seriously. Helplessly, she clutched the little bathroom mat to herself, feeling the wetness spread through it. She couldn't move until she had finished. And it was going on forever! Too late to do anything. The footsteps had stopped. Had whoever it was gone away?
Maggie completed her pee, and lowered her hand, holding the now drenched toilet mat. And a movement caught her eye. Round the corner came a man in a suit and horn-rimmed glasses. Maggie could only see a blurred image, but she could see that much. There was no escape for her. She burst into floods of tears, as the horn-rimmed man was followed by two other figures. Even through her tears and without her glasses, Maggie could just about see the big furry microphone on a stick, and the heavy camcorder on the other man's shoulder. If she had any doubts at all that she was in deepest trouble, they disappeared when the sun-gun came on, flooding the corridor with a steely blue glare.
 
 
  Rick grabbed Maggie's hand and pulled her inside. The door slammed. Furious, Rick strode across the room, dumped the bunch of flowers in the wash basin and filled the vase with cold water. Watched by Maggie and Kay, he crossed the room, flung the door open and emptied the vase out into the corridor. Shouts of rage rang out as he slammed the door shut again.
Kay wrapped her arms round Maggie and pulled her head into her cleavage. She was still shuddering and sobbing.
"There, there, it's all over now, love. Let it out, come on, you're safe now."
Rick refilled the vase and dumped the flowers back in it. "What happened?" he asked. "Has she told you anything yet?"
"I haven't asked. The poor girl's in shock." Kay took a pace back and Maggie's face appeared out from between her massive breasts. "Where are your glasses? Mags?"
"In ... in my room. Locked in. I had a sheet, but it got caught in the door. I had to go to the loo. Oh, no!" She pointed a shaking finger at the wet toilet mat which Kay had dropped on the bed. "It's wet, take it off there," Maggie sobbed.
"Don't worry, darling!"
"No, I pissed all over it. Outside the door when the men came...!" Rick picked up the soggy object between two fingers and took it into the bathroom.
"Can I get her a bathrobe or something? I feel so bloody helpless."
"Get mine, it's in the wardrobe. Are they still outside?"
"If they are, they're wet. If they've got any sense, they'll have gone. The bastards."
"Why are they pestering Maggie?"
"They weren't after Maggie, they were looking for us. Poor Maggie just happened to be standing out there without any clothes on. Somebody at the police must have tipped them off that we were here. They even knew the right room number. I'll complain."
"Who to?" Kay said helplessly. She cuddled Maggie again. It seemed to comfort her. The bathrobe arrived and she wrapped it around the poor girl. Sobs still shook her body every few seconds.
"We're going to have to check out of here," Rick said angrily. "Some bloody honeymoon!"
"I'm sorry," Maggie sobbed. "I've screwed everything up for you again."
"Don't be silly, love. It's not your fault. Rick will get rid of the nasty people, and we'll slip out of the back way, or something. We'll get away. We ought to be grateful to you for rescuing us. Come on." Kay wiped Maggie's face with the bed sheet, and kissed her on the cheek. "Lie down, sweetheart. We'll get some tea sent up. It will be better than that stuff we have to make ourselves."
 
 
  "I like this one best." Lucy stabbed at a picture in Mrs Danby's catalogue. She turned the page and pointed at another. "Or that one. As long as she cuts the ends off. My nipples are so long, I'd hate to keep them bottled up in a bra. Are yours itchy, Lynnie?" Lucy touched one of Lynda's nipples experimentally.
"Sometimes," Lynda agreed. She was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. Lucy squirmed in the big girl's lap.
"My bottom's getting wet, Lynnie! Is it me or you?"
"Both of us. I'm soaking, but I can feel you trickling down on to my leg, too."
"Gosh! It's good being a lezzie. I never knew it was as nice as this. They're enjoying it, too!"
Donna and Jacquie were deeply involved with each other at the foot of the bed. Donna lay sprawled on her back with Jacqui on top of her. From where they were sitting, Lynda and Lucy had a grandstand view of the French girl's bottom. Donna was even closer, with the hairiest pussy she had ever seen splayed across her face. The immense- busted sixteen-year-old twitched and shuddered as Jacqui lapped at her sex. The heady scent of the hirsute nanny was strong in the small bedroom.
"Can we do that, Lynnie? Please?"
"If you like!" Lynda's insides fluttered wildly at the thought. "Not exactly like that, though. I'm half a metre taller than you. We couldn't both eat each other at the same time."
"Is that what it's called? Eating each other? I'm hungry, Lynnie. It's breakfast time!"
"Come on then. Put your face down there!"
Lucy quivered with excitement. She kissed Lynda all over her face like an enthusiastic puppy, then quickly plunged her face down into Lynda's lap. Lynda moaned and parted her thighs, wider, wider. The tiny scullery maid weighed practically nothing. Nearly half her weight must have been in her tits. Lucy squeaked in muffled excitement as Lynda swivelled her around with a single motion and spread her legs to dive her face eagerly between them. God, the girl was huge down there! All her bits and pieces were puffed up and sticking out. And she was sopping wet. It was simply pouring out of her. Literally gushing! Lynda sucked up a mouthful of her sweet, musky juices. She could feel a long tongue probing her intimately. Lucy had taken to being a lezzie with ease and not a little skill. And as Lynda began to moan helplessly with her first climax, she felt little Lucy's thighs clasping around her ears as she came. Lynda closed her eyes, but kept her mouth open. She was rewarded with a mouthful of Lucy-juice. The girl had squirted! Three separate squirts of juice, each slightly weaker but each sweeter than the one before. Lynda swallowed it, imagining it to taste like the finest nectar.
 
 
  "Oh, Maxwell!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"You've lost none of your skill!"
"Thank you, ma'am."
"And we've found a new position, too. Do you know ...?"
"Know what, ma'am?"
"That's my first time with a man since the twins were born! How was it for you, Maxwell?"
"Loose, ma'am! But very good indeed. You will never be as tight as young Lucy, ma'am, nor as flexible, but you are an excellent fuck."
"Oh, thank you, Maxwell!
"My pleasure to be of service once more, ma'am."
"Maxwell?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"You called her young Lucy just now. She is older than me, you know!"
"If you say so, ma'am."
"Maxwell! Do you know something the rest of us don't? How old is Lucy?"
"Twenty, ma'am."
The chauffeur's face was like stone. If he knew anything, he was giving nothing away.
"Maxwell!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Do it again, please."
"Certainly. Ma'am!"
 
 
  "It's a nice place, this," said Geoff. "Do you mean to say you live here all by yourself? What's it cost?
"Oh, lots! But I manage. I do have some help with the rent. Occasionally."
Geoff's face fell. "I suppose I asked for that, really."
Debbie placed a finger under his chin. "Come on, cheer up. Two days ago, you would never have thought of me in this way, and I was the same with you. It's true, isn't it?" Geoff nodded.
"All right, then."
"Who have you had living here?"
"Oh, quite a few. You wouldn't know any of them. Girls."
"Oh. None at the moment?"
Debbie waved a hand round the apartment. "See for yourself. There's only this kitchen, and the sitting room, the bathroom ... and one bedroom. It's not exactly called a single person flat, although I am a single person. There's room for two, if they're very close. Perhaps that's why I've had so many flat-mates. I'm not easy to live with. I'm the flat-mate from hell."
Geoff drained his coffee cup and she took it from him. "Come on. I'll scrub your back for you. You can do the same for me. What's the matter? You've got a face like a wet week."
"Nothing!"
"Still wondering about all my girlfriends? Look!" She wheeled him round and took his shoulders. This is just as much of a shock to me as it is to you. I don't really know what is happening to me. I didn't think this was possible. But if you're thinking of moving in ..." Geoff opened his mouth to protest.
"...if you're thinking of moving in, and I very much want you to, we have to see if we can put up with living in each other's pockets like this. There'll be days when you wish you'd never set eyes on me. And don't forget, we are together all day long, too. There's no escape! But if it works — I'm not saying it will — if it works, perhaps we could find somewhere with a bit more room. Who knows? Fair enough?" His voice was going to let him down. He nodded again.
"Come on then. Shower first. Then breakfast, or bed. Whichever you want. But I know what I want! In fact, I'm bloody starving!"
 
 
  "We'll get breakfast on the motorway," said Rick. "Are you all packed and ready to go?" Kay nodded.
Rick went on. "I looked out of the bathroom window and they're out the back, round the corner of the yard where they can watch to see if we come out of either the back or the front doors. Now, we need a diversion. They've only got one camera, so we need to get them round to the front. That way, we can slip out, straight into your car, Mags, and away."
"What about your car?"
"We'll leave it here. It's a hire car. Besides, if it stays here, it might make them think we're coming back for it, so they won't be in so much of a hurry to chase after us."
"What about this diversion? What are you going to do?"
"I thought we might make a little call to the police again ..."
 
 
  end Chapter 14