Dragon Lady

I had spent the morning lounging behind my desk, contemplating various pressing problems; unpaid bills, minuscule bank balance, serious dearth of clients, chronic lack of sex.

My last job had been five days ago. A worried wife, who I’d found out had every reason to be worried. However, it had taken me just over half a day to establish what her philandering husband was getting up to and with whom. Job done. My fee for this amazing feat of detection had covered about half of last month’s outstanding office rent.

To try to do something about the first three problems, I was toying with the idea of ringing around the insurance companies and solicitors who had employed me in the past to see if they had any work on hand. Then fate played its decisive hand. And it came in the shape of the Dragon Lady.

I spotted her shadow on the frosted glass office door, the one with Balfour Investigations stencilled on it. She opened it and stepped inside.

Ugly was not an unflattering description. Mid to-late-forties, I guessed, with a narrow hard face, a beaklike nose, black suspicious eyes, a grim slit of a mouth and spiky grey hair. However, a very decent pair of black nylon clad legs descended from beneath the hem of her white trench coat, ending in four-inch sling back heels – fuck me shoes, as the saying goes, which quickly aroused my interest. She carried a maroon document case and looked every inch a no nonsense type of person.

‘Mr. Balfour?’ she asked crisply.

‘At your service,’ I said, standing up.

‘Agatha Grundy.’ She handed me her business card. ‘I represent Goodwin, Osborn and Neill. No doubt you will have heard of us.’

In my line of work who hadn’t? One of the top-drawer legal firms in London. Solicitors to the famous and infamous in true Sue, Grabbit & Run style. What did they want with a low-end operator like me?

‘The name is familiar,’ I said to her, trying to sound unimpressed. ‘Please sit down.’ I pointed to the armchair close to the desk.

She did so, removing her leather gloves and unfastening her coat to reveal a smart two-piece grey suit. She placed the case on the desk with the gloves on top.

‘Usually we employ the better-known firms of investigators,’ she stated patronisingly. ‘But in this particular case we consider you are the ideal person for what we need.’

‘How kind,’ I replied facetiously, returning to my chair. ‘Why’s that?’

She ignored the jibe. ‘It’s a divorce case. We are acting for the wife. However, her husband is an obstinate man and refuses to co-operate. His name is Charles Lawrence, a senior executive at one of the biggest merchant banks in the City, and that makes him rather vulnerable.’

‘How?’

‘He has two weaknesses, drink and women. Apparently, he’s been persistently unfaithful to his wife for years. In addition, he frequently indulges in liquid lunches. We feel it is possible to use this combination to our advantage. He has three children whom he dotes upon, and holds several high profile appointments in the charitable sector.’ She looked at me keenly. ‘Do you understand what I’m getting at?’

I stretched out in my chair and grinned at her. ‘Loud and clear. You want photographic evidence of him on the job, which is why you’ve come to me.’

‘You do have a certain reputation in this field,’ she said coolly. ‘Not a very savoury one, but needs must.’

‘All compliments gratefully received.’

‘I’m sure. Once we have the evidence, we are confident we can make him see the benefit of co-operating.’

‘By threatening to show it to his kids and colleagues,’ I said. ‘Nice. Nasty but nice. It’ll work.’

‘That’s what we think. Are you interested in taking the job?’

‘Absolutely. It won’t be a problem,’ I assured her. ‘I can sort it for you.’

Despite her unappealing looks, I found her sexy and attractive. I kept imagining those thin lips wrapped firmly around my dick, which was already starting to respond to the idea.

‘Good.’ She opened the document case and produced a file of papers. ‘All the information you require is here. We will pay you a retainer of five hundred pounds plus a further five hundred to cover immediate expenses. Your account will be settled once the work is completed. I trust this is satisfactory?’

‘Low end rates,’ I pointed out.

She glanced around my small shabby office. ‘Can you afford to complain?’

‘Probably not, but I do. It’s one of life’s few pleasures left to me these days.’

‘Dear me, such self-pity,’ she sneered. ‘So, what do you want?’

I don’t know why, but suddenly I just couldn’t resist the temptation. ‘Well, in the absence of more money,’ I said flippantly, ‘how about a blowjob?’

I expected her to explode with outrage at the suggestion and storm out of the office taking the much-needed thousand quid with her. Not a bit of it.

‘Fine by me,’ she replied calmly.

That was a stunner and she smirked when she saw the astonishment on my face.

‘You serious?’ I asked.

‘Don’t look so surprised, Mr Balfour. It’s something I regularly enjoy indulging in. Yes or no?’

There could only be one answer. ‘In cash, of course?’

‘Naturally.’ She produced a leather wallet from the case, counted out the money and placed it on the corner of the desk. ‘A receipt, if you please.’

I wrote one out and passed it to her.

‘Excellent,’ she said, putting it into the wallet. ‘Now, if you’re ready, I’ll give you the rest of your retainer.’

She stood up and slipped off her trench coat. The business suit clung tightly to a quite superb figure. She removed the jacket revealing she didn’t wear a bra. She had small perky tits with dark hard nipples. The skirt followed. Apart from the suspender belt holding up her stockings, only a tiny white thong covered her hairless pubes. She might have been in her forties and ugly but she had a lean smooth body a woman half her age would have been proud to display. I realised I’d missed a trick, I should have asked for a shag instead.

She walked round the desk, knelt down between my legs and deftly undid my belt. Her left hand slid over my now obvious erection while the fingers of her right pulled down the zip. Then her hand slipped inside and I saw her expression of disbelief when her fingers curled around my cock.

‘Good God!’ she exclaimed pulling it out into the open. ‘You weren’t standing at the back of the queue when they handed these out, were you? It must be ten inches at least.’

‘Nine actually,’ I said huskily.

‘I won’t argue over an inch,’ she said. Her thin lips parted and she slipped them over the head, gently, teasing the crown and rim with her tongue, provoking sensations so intense they made me gasp.

‘Look at me,’ she whispered, black eyes locked into mine. I looked, trying to repress my mounting desire. Nothing beats watching a woman sucking you off and watching you at the same time.

I gripped her grey hair as she tormented me with her lips and tongue. Her eyes glinted devilishly and she sucked faster. I gasped for air, fighting to stay in control. I’d had plenty of head in my time, but Agatha was a completely new experience; one I wanted to last and last. But no matter how hard I resisted, I couldn’t contain the inexorable rise of my climax.

I began to lose control as those black eyes bored relentlessly into me. She had me and she knew it. My fingers dug into her hair and my hips bucked as I fucked her voracious mouth, heart pounding. Then the spasms began, a wave of agonising pleasure coursed through me and as it peaked, I unleashed a flood of semen into her mouth. Agatha swallowed it greedily and she continued the torment long after she had devoured the full load.

Eventually, she rose gracefully to her feet, wiped a few globs from her chin with her fingers and licked them clean. ‘Satisfied?’ she asked with a mocking smile.

Oh, God – was I satisfied!

I nodded, feeling as weak as a kitten, watching her get dressed. Her arse was firm and tight and I fantasized about burying my cock into it. Finally, she fastened the trench coat, put on her gloves and picked up the briefcase.

‘I look forward to hearing from you in due course,’ she said; now back in full business mode. ‘Good afternoon.’

She turned on her fuck me’s, opened the door and walked out.

I remained in my chair feeling slightly dazed, looking at the thousand quid on the desk and remembering the blowjob she had just given me. Christ, as ugly as she was, Agatha Grundy had sorted all four of my “pressing problems” at one fell swoop. What a woman!

*****

‘Who’s today’s sucker?’ Flo Richardson asked, sliding into the client’s chair.

It was eight days after my interview with Agatha Grundy. Eight days I’d spent watching Lawrence, studying where he lived – a large mansion in Hampstead – and when and where he went, particularly at lunchtimes, and putting the nuts and bolts of the job together.

Flo was a stunning brunette in her late thirties, with a hard handsome face, dark eyes, a red inviting mouth and a no nonsense attitude. She’d once worked as a secretary for a Rotherham steel company, but being a nymphomaniac, she’d decided earning a living on her back, or any other position required, was far more enjoyable and lucrative than shorthand and typing. So using her savings she’d moved to London and set herself up as an escort as well as acting as a co-respondent in divorce cases when one was needed. She also gave great head with those luscious lips, as I could personally testify.

She was wearing a full-length grey Persian lamb coat, and a pillbox hat in matching grey decorated with a rhinestone brooch. She looked a million. In her case, the wages of sin were very rewarding.

‘Charles Hinds Lawrence, forty-four, a banker who can’t keep it in his trousers. Been cheating on his wife for years. She’s trying to divorce him but he won’t play ball. However, she reckons he will change his mind if she has pictures and threatens to use them. He’s a piss head and regularly looks for a woman at lunchtimes to spend the afternoon with.’

‘Sounds like he’s going to be fun. Where do I collect him?’

‘Simpson’s is his regular spot. Gets there about one. I’ve primed the headwaiter to make sure you get snuggly with him. Tell him you’re booked in at the Regent and desperately need some action.’ I passed her the key I’d got from Seth Bohanan, the security man at the hotel. ‘I’ll be in the next room with Wally. Bohanan’s fixed the lock on the connecting door. It’ll be easy.’

‘Does Charlie have any special kinks I need to deal with?’

‘Not that I know of. Get enough booze down his throat and he might have a job getting it up.’

‘Or throw up all over me.’

‘Occupational hazard, kid. Still, get on top and you shouldn’t have a problem.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

I passed her the agreed fee.

‘Ta,’ she said, putting it into her handbag. ‘Right, let’s get on with it, shall we?’

*****

It went like clockwork. I waited with Wally in the room next to the one Bohanan had arranged. The door was slightly ajar so I could hear their arrival. The minutes crawled along, then I heard Flo say, ‘Sod it, where’s my key?’ in too loud a voice, her signal to me.

I eased the connecting door open a fraction. Lawrence dished out some “my wife doesn’t understand me” crap. Flo laughed and told him she understood him all too well. Then there was the sound of clothing being discarded, followed by Lawrence’s urgent demand for Flo to suck his dick. He gasped and grunted as she carried out his wishes, before the sounds faded away. Seconds ticked slowly by into minutes. Suddenly, Lawrence started groaning. Time to move.

Cautiously, I opened the connecting door. Flo and Lawrence were on the bed in the missionary position, her legs clamped around his flabby waist, his lardy arse pumping up and down. Flo feigned ecstasy in time to his thrusts. She grinned at me over his shoulder.

I stepped aside to let Wally do his stuff. One, two, three bright flashes. Job sorted! Lawrence yelled and pulled out. Flo rolled off the bed and away into the bathroom, locking the door. Wally shot back into the other room and scuttled out into the corridor.

Lawrence, red-faced and spluttering, looked wildly around, hands clasped across his genitals, as if I cared about the size of his prick and balls.

‘Who are you?’ he shrieked, cowering back on the bed.

‘I work for your wife’s solicitor.’

‘You mean that wretched Grundy woman?’

‘Spot on. Now listen to what I have say. You will immediately agree to give your wife her divorce. If you don’t, Grundy will see to it that the pictures that have just been taken will be shown to some very important people in your life, including your kids. Understand?’

‘That’s… That’s blackmail,’ he stammered.

‘True, Charlie, but what are you going to do about it? I’m damn sure a man in your position won’t want them going public. Think of the embarrassment. The derision aimed at you behind your back. The effect on your career at the bank and with those high profile charities you’re involved with. Just do as you’re told and they will never see the light of day again. Okay?’

Faced with the horror of the situation unfolding in front of him, he had no choice but to agree. He nodded dumbly, tears welling in his eyes.

‘Good. Now get dressed and get out.’

A few minutes later, I watched a bedraggled half-dressed Lawrence tripping along the hallway, jacket and waistcoat over his arm, the tail of his shirt hanging down over his arse, trying to get his bare feet into his shoes. The stupid pillock had forgotten his socks.

*****

Wally turned up at the office the next morning with the photos. He was an old school photographer and still used 35mm film, which he developed himself.

‘Here you are, Mr. Balfour,’ he said, a grin on his wily, lined face. ‘I reckon you’ll be well pleased with ’em.’

I grabbed the envelope and tore it open. As usual, Wally had produced two sets of prints and negatives, one set for Agatha Grundy and one set for me. They were first rate. The shots of Lawrence were razor sharp and he was clearly identifiable; and at the vital second Flo had turned her face away from the camera so she couldn’t be recognised.

‘Top job, Wally,’ I agreed and handed him his money. ‘Have a few drinks on me.’

‘I most certainly will, Mr. Balfour,’ he said, and sauntered out grinning and whistling.

I picked up the phone and called Agatha Grundy.

*****

Goodwin, Osborn & Neill were located in a sombre building on Kings Bench Walk. Agatha’s office was a gloomy place with wood panelled walls and tall bookcases. Charles Dickens would have felt right at home. The Dragon Lady was sitting behind a large mahogany desk littered with files and papers. The grey suit had been replaced by a navy blue one with a mandarin collar. I wondered what she was wearing underneath. Not a lot if our last meeting was anything to go by. She still looked ugly and as sexy as hell!

‘You’ve got what we want?’ she asked.

I opened my briefcase and handed her the file with the photos and my report. She leafed quickly through it, leaving me standing there like a naughty boy in front of the Head teacher.

‘Excellent, excellent,’ she muttered as she studied the contents. ‘Yes, these will do very nicely. I’m sure they will convince friend Lawrence to change his mind. Well done.’

‘Happy to oblige. If you need more help in getting this over the line let me know.’

Agatha looked up at me with those black eyes. ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said perfunctorily.

I passed over another envelope. ‘My account.’

She read the invoice and pursed her lips. ‘Rather over the top, isn’t it?’

‘Not really,’ I lied. ‘I had to pay quite a few people to set the job up properly. They are professionals and don’t work for peanuts. And it produced the result you needed.’

Between them, Flo, Wally, Bohanan and the headwaiter had set me back £800. I’d added another £1500 for my time and trouble and then doubled the amount. Less the grand she’d advanced me it came to £3600. At a conservative estimate Goodwin, Osborn & Neill, being the greedy robbing bastards they were, would be hitting Mrs Lawrence with a bill for at least £20,000 as reward for their time and trouble on her behalf. Under those circumstances, I considered my charges were quite modest.

‘It’s far too excessive, Mr Balfour,’ she protested. ‘I can’t agree to authorise this amount.’

Couldn’t she? Oh, Agatha, you are the gift that gives on giving. Her refusal opened a possibility that was too good not to try to exploit.

‘Okay,’ I said, ‘how about this for a solution. I’m prepared to knock the amount down by twenty-five percent.’

‘That sounds much more reasonable,’ she agreed, with a tiny victory smile. ‘I’m sure we can accept that.’

‘But there is one condition,’ I told her.

‘Oh!’ the smile quickly vanished. ‘What are you proposing?’

‘You let me fuck you,’ I told her with a grin.

Agatha stiffened a little and sat back in her chair stony faced. Her long thin fingers tapped on the polished desktop, as she weighed the pros and cons of my suggestion. It was impossible to work out what she was thinking.

‘Is this a serious proposition?’ she asked sharply.

‘Never more so.’

‘Unusual to say the least. Why should I agree?’

‘How about a good hard nine inches?’

‘Yes, that is an incentive,’ she murmured softly. ‘Very well, be at my place at ten o’clock tonight.’ She gave me an address in Lowndes Square.

I took back the invoice and reduced the total by the agreed amount, noting against the deduction: FOR SERVICES RENDERED.

She looked at what I’d written. ‘You make me sound like a whore.’

‘Believe me, Agatha; you’d make a great one,’ I told her and walked out feeling as happy as Larry.

*****

We were on the vast double bed that dominated the ornate bedroom of Agatha’s luxurious flat. Long mirrors hung on the walls on each side of the bed, giving a clear view of the activities taking place on it, and the lighting was soft and subdued. Perfect for serious fornication. Clearly, Agatha wasn’t a novice at this game.

Her pale body was stretched out below me on the purple satin bedspread; legs apart, left hand behind her grey-haired head, the fingers of the right gently stroking her clit. There was a disdainful smile on her harsh face, suggesting she wasn’t impressed by what she was looking up at.

‘Is that just for show?’ she asked, nodding at my erection. ‘Or are you going to put it to some use?’

‘Sole purpose of my being here.’

‘Then hadn’t you better get on with it?’

‘Delighted to,’ I replied.

‘Then do it,’ she ordered. ‘Let’s find out how good you are.’

So I did.

‘Oh Jesus!’ Agatha gasped wide-eyed as I penetrated her. Her legs came up and she crossed her ankles around the small of my back. Next moment I was jammed balls deep inside her.

I pulled back again – slowly. Then I drove in deep, pumping in and out, alternating from slow to fast, using my full length. She urged me on, returning my thrusts with equal intensity. Her sharp nails raked over my shoulders, down my spine and up again.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh along with her cries and moans filled the bedroom as I rammed her. She squirmed underneath me, her Gorgon features flushed with lust, making low, animal like sounds deep in her throat. Her eyes were closed and her head rocked from side to side on the satin pillows as she thrust her body up at me, forcing my prick in and out of her at high speed.

‘Ahhh, I’m cumming!’ Agatha cried suddenly. ‘Christ, I’m cumming!’

Her back arched and she slammed herself against me, nails digging into my flesh like crampons into ice, body shaking as the orgasm ripped through her. I continued to fuck her hard as her pussy muscle held my prick in a vice like grip.

She locked those thin lips on mine, biting me, forcing her tongue almost down my throat. I felt myself falling into a whirlpool of excruciating pleasure. Then the delicious tingling started to race up my shaft and moments later my body tensed as it peaked.