struggle commenced and a warm but violently wriggling body was pinned to my back. I felt Sugar's short skirt flip up over her hips and two strong hands pinioned us both in an interesting sandwich. I wondered whether I would be able to breathe.
'Spank Harry Neptune, would you, bint?'
There was a murmured response. Perhaps Miss Thwack had had her lungs crushed too.
'Speak up, you little brat.'
'Oh, fuck you, you big bully!'
Sugar had found her voice. I took a sharp intake of breath in preparation for the storm to come. If there's one thing Harry abhors, it's bad language. He's no angel but the lingo of the gutter riles him to the core. I waited for the axe to fall. Which it did, promptly.
'Aaaaaaeeeeeeee!!!!!!'
There was a piercing shriek as my cultured friend grasped Sugar by her ponytails and entered her hard and deep from behind. An enthusiastic thrusting and moaning began, with a hot pussy grinding madly against my ass. Unable to retrieve a hand and give myself some manual stimulation, I did what I could and ground back against the squirming crotch. Then, to my relief, two small but strong hands found my cunt and began to massage my mound with a manic rhythm. Waves of pleasure surged through my body as I savored the feel of the big bouncy breasts which were tightly squished against my back. They really were incredibly pneumatic. The bucking fuck sandwich continued and I longed for a cucumber. If we had only had a strap-on for Miss Thwack… However, it wasn't long before Harry groaned and shot his load into a squealing Sugar who shrieked and frigged me to my own bleating climax.
'Yesss!'
'Ooh, yesss!!'
'OOH, YESSS!!!'
At that moment, the heavy curtain to the pantry parted and a rather cross looking old man stuck his head through the gap.
'Do you mind? This is a teahouse, not a bordello. Get dressed and back to your duties, Miss Sachs!'
Harry snorted.
'Sugar Sachs?!'
We uncoiled from the stool, a little dazed from the experience. Sugar grimaced.
'My real name is Gretchen. Can't blame me for trying to spice up a dull existence, can you? OK, so it's round one to you, Mister, er, Mister?'
Harry made a curt bow.
'Harry Neptune at your service. Always keen to keep an errant young lady in line. I've had plenty of practice with Miss Lawrence here.'
Sugar tried to pull up her panties but they slid back down to her knees in limp surrender. Shrugging, she stepped out of them and smoothed her short skirt over her naked buns.
'Should help with the tips!'
A distant 'Coo-ee! Harry! Gay!' from the tearoom shattered our post-sandwich reverie and we began to struggle into our discarded clothes. It seemed that the enemy was indefatigable. With a knowing smirk, Sugar held open a fire door and we fell pell-mell into a rather dirty alley. The last thing we heard was 'Twatton's, four o'clock.'
We stood up and dusted ourselves down.
'Gay indeed!'
'Well, you are. Kind of.'
'I'm bi, dear. Like planes and 'noculars. Meaning two of. Gay is something else.'
'That pixie's 'noculars are something else.'
'I'm suspicious.'
'Yes, you most definitely are.'
'I don't think they're real.'
Harry looked as if he was about to burst into tears.
'That's it! That's the final straw! First, I'm hounded by that rabid nymphoid Goldfinkel, now you try to tell me that Sugar is artificially sweetened. Next, you'll say that Father Christmas doesn't exist. Well, go on! Sock it to me! I can take it. What's a delusion for if not to be ruined, trampled to death in the dirt of stark reality?'
I patted my pouting friend's hand reassuringly and decided not to disclose what had happened to the mince pies during the shuffle through the pantry. At that moment, a small sheet of bright red paper floated down from above, wafting gently to rest at our feet. I picked it up.
Festive Fun at Twatton's Department Store
Come Sit On Santa's Knee!
Pixie Parade at 4pm
'The plot thickens!'
Harry brightened visibly.
'Oh ho ho ho! Santa comes but once a year but when he does, he fills your stockings! Want to sit on the old man's knee, Miss Lawrence? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink!'
He leered lasciviously.
'Depends how well his tree is trimmed, sweetie! Let me see, what time is it now? Gosh, half past three already. We've just time to make our way to Twatton's. I wouldn't mind a rummage in their lingerie department, anyway.'
'Sounds like a good idea.'
'Dirty old man.'
This leisurely Christmas shopping expedition was turning out to be rather too energetic for my tastes. I like minimum shopping and maximum mince pies and sherry. Admittedly so far there had been an absolute minimum of shopping, but there had been zippo seasonal grub and Amontillado as well.
Now it looked as though for some mysterious reason we were off to see Santa Claus. I once saw a blue movie starring a female Santa and Humpty Dumpty, but somehow I thought Twatton's Department Store would have different ideas. I gathered together my slightly singed dignity and urged my diminutive friend on. The sooner this was over the sooner we could attend to the inner man.
'Ten minutes to spare. Time for a grope in the lingerie.'
Jay glared at me anew.
'Behave yourself for once! I don't want a repetition of the Harrod's incident!'
'I wouldn't mind a repetition of the Harrod's incident.'
'Harrod's wouldn't.'
I cracked my knuckles ready for lingerie. There had been no mention of Tittitata Lodge since our escape from Tillie's Tea Shoppe. Good.
Lingerie was on the second floor. I pushed Jay on the escalator in front of me and felt for her undies through her woolen dress.
'Roll-ons to the right, conveniently next to the vests and thick knickers. You'll be in and out of here in a flash!'
'As well you know, I wear nothing but the best next to my alabaster skin. Turn left and seek out teddies.'
'My pleasure. My pleasure indeed… Oh, I say! A civilized store! The goods are actually on display – tactile display! I complained bitterly to Mr. Marks and Mr. Spencer when M amp;S packaged their undies in cellophane. Cellophane simply does not feel the same as silk. I shall close my eyes and unerringly select the very best in the store for you.'
I advanced on a rack of lacy bras and panties. I advanced so far and abruptly abandoned advancing. Something was amiss with my breathing. It had to do with the long scarf someone called Lawrence had wrapped round my neck.
