RETURN OF THE GOLDEN GOOSE

by Some Sort of Dog
 
 
 
 
 

Chapter 22:- Up From The Country


 
 
  "More coffee, Adrian?"
"No more, thanks, Mrs Fielding. It's coming out of my ears already."
"You can call me Laura, you know! You're a family friend."
"Thanks, Laura," he said awkwardly. "If Donna's still asleep, perhaps I ought to go. I don't want to be a nuisance, hanging around like this. There must be things you want to do."
Laura mopped her brow with a lacy hankie. There were things she wanted to do, all right. She was getting wet just thinking about it. The thought reminded her of Donna's soaked shorts with Maggie's big wet lipsticky kiss right on top of her pussy. God! What was the matter with her?
"Come into the kitchen a minute, Adrian," she said desperately, leaping up and waiting for the lad to follow. She smiled seductively and led the way, her hips swaying exaggeratedly. "Look at this floor," she said. "What are we going to do about it?"
"The floor? Oh, the floor. You know about it, then?" Adrian went scarlet.
Laura stared at him, wondering what the matter was. Then she realised. He thought she was accusing him of shagging Donna right down on the kitchen floor. She tried to put the image out of her mind, but it wouldn't go away. She looked at the tile pattern of the floor covering and imagined her Donna moaning down there with her legs spread, and Adrian pounding away on top of her. Laura squatted down suddenly to try and hide her sudden wetness. She opened the kitchen cupboard beneath the sink.
"We need to do something with our cock thing, don't we?"
"We do?"
"We'd better have a look at it. Donna said it was terribly stiff."
"She told you that?"
"She told me everything, love. Isn't there anything you can do to make it not quite so stiff. Donna and me, we're only little, you know! Come on, we'll look at it together."
Adrian slowly got down and crawled across the floor with a doom- laden expression on his face. Laura felt the big warmth of his body as her sat close to her on the floor, peering helplessly into the cupboard.
"It's behind the box of washing powder," Laura said.
Adrian blushed and giggled. "I thought you were talking about something else," he stammered, moving the washing powder box aside and crawling into the cupboard. As he did so, the thought came to him how difficult it must have been for Donna to get in here, with inches of soapy water swilling around on the floor, and her breasts sploshing around in it. Despite Laura's slightly inhibiting presence, he began to get hard.
"Are you all right in there. Can you reach?" Laura was right behind him. "Let me push you. You're a bit big, really, aren't you!" She rested her cheek against his bottom and pushed gently with one hand. Her other hand groped beneath him, and found what she was looking for almost immediately. God, he was hard, ready for her!
"Ouch, Mrs Fielding!"
"Come out, Adrian! Come out here." She pulled at anything that came to hand. Adrian came out. He had little choice in the matter. "Oops, sorry, was that your thingie? Here, let me rub it for you." With fumbling fingers, she liberated the poor lad from his trousers and bent to kiss it better.
A small girl's voice broke the relative silence. "Ooops, sorry, Mrs Fielding...!"
Laura looked up in panic. Somewhere up there — somewhere beyond those astounding nipples and fat, swaying breasts — was young Lucy. Mercifully, the girl had put some panties on, although she seemed to have leaked somewhat since. Strangely, too, her panties seemed as well-filled as the underwear of quite a few men Laura could think of. What curiously plump labia she appeared to have!
Laura could see the girl's downy legs, glistening with juices. And she could smell her, of course. It was more than enough for Laura. She careered over the edge like a lemming and went down on Adrian in a single smooth motion.
"Gosh, Adie, what's Mrs Fielding doing to you?" Lucy watched with fascination for a few minutes, then stepped over the two bodies and helped herself to a glass of milk from the fridge. She drank it, pausing occasionally to nod in approval of Laura's technique, then refilled the glass and carried it out of the kitchen, concentrating hard on not spilling it.
Adrian spilled it. He spilled his seed into Laura's throat, as she swallowed furiously, gulp, gulp gulp!
 
 
  "What on earth, Mags? Have you been mugged or something?" Wilma jumped up from her chair and put her arm round her assistant's shoulder. "Your dress! It's ripped and all dirty. And you're not wearing a bra!"
"It's a long story, Chief. The police let me go after I explained everything to the nice lady inspector. But the good news is that I've found young Lucy. I've probably just about got time to call Duncan before he goes home."
"The police? You've been arrested again? What have you done this time?"
"Chief, honestly, you really do not want to know!"
 
 
  "I am in attendance, Margaret," Duncan announced grandly from his armchair. Geoffrey will operate the camera. He works well with Deborah. They are a fine unit, a good team. They are also very much an item."
"So I heard," said Maggie. "Where are they, anyway?"
"They are in the darkroom. They came in this morning at seven, and retired to the darkroom an hour ago to be alone together. I do not wish to know what they are doing in there, but they are young, and they both have appetites and needs. Most surprising ones. Now, what about this new model you have for me? I hope she is not pregnant." He said the word as if it were a form of the plague.
"No, she's not pregnant. She does look a little young, but she claims to be twenty."
"Ah, a rare case of relative maturity, most unusual in a Cunis model, and all the more welcome for it. I fear Mr Cunis and I may never agree on the ideal attributes to be found in a figure model." Duncan fished a pocket watch from his jacket and held it to his ear before looking at it for several seconds. "She's late," he decided.
"No, we said ten thirty. The girls are bringing Lucy up by train. They'll be here. Donna is a good reliable girl." Her voice fluttered slightly. Damn, thought Maggie. All I have to do is say her name, and I flood my pants. Call it pleasurable anticipation.
Debbie and Geoff came out of the darkroom. Debbie was flushed and extremely fit-looking. Geoff looked literally spent and exhausted. He wandered away to load his cameras.
"Hello, Debs," said Maggie uncertainly. "You're looking amazing!" She was, too. Gone were the black stretch slacks and the shapeless sweater. Gone, too was her bra. Maggie lowered her voice, "Duncan lets you dress like this for work?"
Debbie giggled girlishly. "He's got no choice! I wear this T-shirt dress and no bra because it's so much more convenient. I help Geoff out in the darkroom quite a lot during the day. Do you like it?"
"It looks great. So do you!" The pale yellow dress draped itself alluringly across the ripe curves of Debbie's unusually low-slung breasts. Maggie was already too moist for comfort, but now she began to feel even more aroused. With Debbie about the place looking like this, and Donna due to turn up as well, Maggie had a trying time ahead of her today. All the more reason to get away with Donna for a couple of hours.
Debbie joined Geoff, the two of them talking easily and intimately, Debbie pointing at the box of rolls of film and saying something that made Geoff laugh. He applied his finger briefly to the tip of her nose and she kissed his cheek before going off to arrange the props.
There was the usual bed, with a backlit window frame behind it. Maggie tried to imagine Lucy posing like a HUMUNGOUS! model, but somehow, the image refused to form in her mind. She sighed. We would see soon enough.
 
 
  "Was this a good idea, coming by train?"
Donna asked the rhetorical question.
Lynda didn't answer.
Lucy didn't know the meaning of the word rhetorical.
"I don't think so, Don," she said.
"We caught the wrong train at Amersham. I knew it was wrong. It should have been one of those red, white and blue ones. Now we're at the wrong station."
"Ours was red, white and blue," said Lynda belligerently. She had been the one to drag them on to the wrong train.
"It had yellow stripes, though, didn't it? Maggie never mentioned yellow stripes."
"It was a nice train," claimed Lynda defensively.
"This is London, though, isn't it?" Lucy stared about her anxiously.
"It's London, and we're probably only half a mile from where we want to be, but we're at Marylebone instead of Baker Street. Maggie's instructions don't fit any more. I think we have to go down there to the Underground." They drifted over to a row of turnstiles. People hurried through, shoving their tickets into the automatic machines, passing through the gates with curious glances at the three absurdly busty girls.
"Down there?" Lynda tried to see where all the passengers were going. They disappeared down an escalator into the very bowels of the earth.
"Why's everybody staring at us?" Lucy whispered. The other two just looked at her.
"We can't go down there," said Donna. I can't get through that turnstile. My boobs are too wide."
"I think mine are, too," Lynda was determined not to be outdone.
"I'm not going down there on my own," said Lucy.
"Maggie said we could go through the gate if we couldn't fit through the turnstile," Donna said shakily.
"You mean we've got to ask the man?" Horrified, Lynda looked at the ticket inspectors, who were laughing at some private joke.
"I'll ask them, if you're scared." Lucy set off, cutting across the stream of passengers, which had suddenly increased as another train had just arrived and disgorged a hundred or so more folks in a tearing hurry. They cannoned into the little girl, unable to see her until they were right on top of her. She came bouncing right back to Donna and Lynda, where she was washed out of the human tide like an abandoned fishing float. "Ouch, my tits! Why do they all push? Where are they all going in such a hurry?"
Donna sighed. "That's the trouble. Everyone knows where they're going. We don't. Let's look at that map." Easier said than done. The map was on the far wall, beyond all the rushing people.
"Look out," said Lynda, "here's a load of them coming up the other way."
They were right in the way of a throng of people coming up the escalator from under the ground. If anything, these were in even more of a hurry.
"What's up with them, did they all go the wrong way?" Lucy asked.
"I don't think they're the same people who went down there a minute ago, Lucy!"
"They must be. There can't be this many people in the world."
The girls had gone with the flow and ended up by the bookstand again.
"There's another map over there," said Lynda and headed off towards the middle of the station concourse. She stood and tried to make head or tail of the map. It looked like multi-coloured spaghetti.
"Ah-hmm-hmm! You look lost, young lady." A deep, cultured voice spoke at Lynda's side. It was a tall man with a moustache and steel-grey hair. Military. An officer and a gentleman. He looked just the sort of man her mother had always warned her about. "Where are you going, then, my dear?"
"Erm, I don't know," she stammered. What am I saying? She looked helplessly round for Donna and Lucy, but they were looking the other way. "I mean, I do know. Fulham Broadway."
An elegant hand shot out and tapped on the spaghetti. "District Line, you've got a bit of a choice, actually. You could go Northbound on the Bakerloo and change at Paddington and again at Earls Court, or take the Southbound and change at Baker Street, or even at Piccadilly Circus. Either way, you need to catch a Wimbledon train from Earls Court."
"Oh!"
"I'm going down to Piccadilly Circus myself. I'm in the film industry. You could come my way and I'll tell you when to get off. The Underground can be a bit daunting for a beautiful young girl on her own." He mopped his brow with a purple silk hankie.
"I'm not on my own. I'm with my friends." She stared around her hopelessly. "Here they come now." Thank God.
The military man stared at Donna and Lucy, then back at Lynda. It was all too much for him. He uttered a squeaking noise and reversed away from Lynda, finally turning on his heel and almost running in the direction of the Gentlemen's Toilet. He looked over his shoulder every few yards.
"What did he want?" said Donna.
"Bloody old creep. He called me beautiful!"
"The rotten bastard."
They all watched the military figure disappear from sight.
"He told me which way to go, but it didn't make sense. He said I could go with him to Piccadilly Circus."
"Mrs Grummit told me about men like that," said Lucy. "Why do I never get to meet them?"
"It doesn't matter. I've found out the way." Donna studied a scrap of paper. "We change at Paddington and Earls Court. I remember Earls Court, Maggie told us to change there."
"So did he," Lynda jerked a thumb at the Officer's and Gentlemen's Toilets. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"Yeah, all we have to do is get past those gate things."
In the event, it was easier than they expected. "This way, lay-deez," sang the happy looking ticket inspector, flinging the gate wide for them and checking their tickets.
"He never even mentioned our tits," Lucy whispered, sounding disappointed. Then she clung to Donna's hand as they set foot on the endlessly long escalator. "Hold me real tight, Don!" she whined. "I don't think I like London very much."
 
 
  "There it is. I remember the building! That's Maggie's car." Donna's relief was plain to see. "And we're only ten minutes late."
They squeezed through the doorway and confronted the receptionist whose jaw dropped open.
Donna appointed herself spokesperson. "Hello. It's Lucy to see Mr Throssell."
"Oh? Oh, hyyyy! So which one of yeee is Luce-eee?"
"Me." Lucy stepped from behind one of Donna's breasts.
"My God!"
"I'm twenty," Lucy said bafflingly.
"Oh, that's nice," said the receptionist.
Maggie appeared in the doorway from the studio. She was wearing a flowery, silky dress which draped itself in alluring folds from the peaks of her breasts. "Oh, thank God you made it. Duncan's been getting fretful. Hi, Lucy, Lynda. Hello, Donna!"
"Hello."
"Let's go straight in and meet the crew. We'll start things going, then leave them to it, shall we?"
"You're not leaving me, Don?" Lucy turned and squeaked.
"Don't worry, love. They'll look after you. I just need to have a little private meeting with Donna. About her modelling when she's old enough." Maggie's voice sounded strangely shaky.
They went down the chemical smelling corridor to the studio, where a bed stood in a pool of brilliant light.
"You've met Debbie and Geoff, haven't you, darling?" Maggie guided Lucy to the front. "And this is Mr Throssell."
Duncan turned round in his chair and stared at Lucy.
"My God!" he said weakly, and immediately fainted.
"What's up with him?" asked Lucy. "He didn't even say hello."
Debbie came over and crouched down to Lucy's eye level, like a psychiatric social worker talking to an intellectually challenged dog. "Hello, Lucy! Mr Throssell just fainted, that's all. He does it all the time. He's very artistic and sensitive."
"My nipples are sensitive, too," Lucy asserted, "but I don't faint all the time."
"That's all right. You come with Auntie Debbie and we'll take your nasty jeans off, shall we?"
"Okay!" Lucy decided she liked Debbie. She placed her hand in hers and followed her along the corridor. "Are you a lezzie?" she asked, in a loud, clear voice.
"Some of the time, yes!"
"But you do fuck Geoff, don't you?"
"Of course, dear!"
"Good. I'm a lezzie some of the time, too. Don't tell Lynnie, but I think fucking is better."
They went into the dressing room and closed the door after them.
Geoff found he had urgent business at the far side of the studio.
"Bloody hell," said Maggie. "How old is that kid?"
"Twenty," said Lynda.
"I hope she can prove it!"
 
 
  "Bra and panties first, Lucy. Just sit on the bed and Geoff will tell you what to do."
Lucy perched herself on the edge of the bed. It took her three attempts before she could get up there, but finally she sat with her legs dangling and swinging, gazing around at her exciting surroundings. Geoff perched himself on a stool and squinted through the viewfinder.
"Just lean back a bit, Lucy, lean on your hands. That's it. That's nice!"
'Pock!'
"Ouch! That was bright. Shall I take all my clothes off now, Geoff? I can take them off if you like. I might need a hand with my bra, 'cos it's so tight, but I can ..."
"Lucy, please! Just try and sit still for a minute. We're going to take lots of photos with your bra and pants on, first. Plenty of time later to take your kit off. Just sit with your knees apart a bit. That's better!"
"Bloody hell," Debbie whispered. "What's she hiding in there, a packed lunch?"
"Sh-hh, she can hear through walls!" Donna giggled.
"That bra's too small, as well, it will leave all sorts of red marks. We'll have to let them fade away before we can do the nude shots. We should have done them first, really."
"It shouldn't be tight!" Lynda gasped. It's only two days old!"
"See for yourself. You sure she isn't wearing her old one by mistake?"
"She's only got one other bra, and that's got holes in the ends. This is her new one."
"Mrs Danby must be losing her touch."
"No, Lucy's growing so fast, Mrs Danby can't keep up with her!"
"What are you all whispering about over there?" Lucy yelled. "Are you talking about me?"
"Lucy!" Geoff said sternly. "Pull your feet up on to the bed and spread your knees!"
"Like this, Geoff?" Lucy adopted a lewd pose which brought her pudenda into almost obscene prominence.
"I think we'd better leave them to it," said Maggie. "Duncan had the right idea, passing out as soon as that little minx walked in. You ready, Donna?"
Donna was ready. She nodded.
"Come on, then! We'll see you later, crew!"
The door closed after them.
"Why couldn't they just hold their meeting in here?" Geoff asked, changing the film magazine.
"Can't you guess, darling?" grinned Debbie. "You have led a sheltered life, haven't you!"
 
 
  end Chapter 22