locked himself in the bathroom and won't come out."
The pretty young woman who said this was naked apart from a pair of
red high-heeled shoes and a pink blouse knotted below her breasts. The
blouse looked as though it had been used as a napkin at a chocolate
eating contest and the chocolate had clearly had the upper hand.
"For goodness sake put some knickers on Soph!"
"They're in the bathroom."
"What are they doing in there?" asked Romola.
"We wanted to do it in the shower."
"Charley and me."
"So where is Charley now?"
"Locked in the bathroom with your gorgeous alien."
"Maybe not now the chocolate's run out."
"Shit!" repeated Romola. "I've got a party of eight coming in twenty minutes."
Sophie's pretty hands flew to her mouth. "You mean you're CHARGING
for his services?"
"Don't look so shocked. It was Portia's idea. We need the money."
Romola spun round as a long howl echoed through the flat.
"Sounds like your sister just got lucky."
Seconds later the bathroom door flew open and Yyerg staggered out clutching
his genitals and babbling incoherently in his alien language. Sophie
pushed him aside and rushed into the bathroom. Romola followed her.
Charley was lying in the shower with her knickers around her ankles
and her dress halfway up her thighs. Her mouth hung open and her big
brown eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling.
"You bastard!" shouted Sophie. "You've killed my sister!"
"Oh, shit!" exclaimed Romola, "There's no pulse and she's
foaming at the mouth!"
"I think she choked," said Yyerg miserably.
"CHOKED!?" shrieked Sophie.
"S-she asked for oral s-sex..."
"You stupid sod! She meant oral not head!"
"It's OK", she's coming round," said Romola, cradling
Charley's head in her arms. "Are you all right, darling?"
Charley nodded and smiled weakly, tasting the fiery sweet liquid running
out of her mouth and feeling the wetness gather between her aching legs
again. "I want him so much, Romola..."
"This time sit on HIS face, OK?"
The Bishop took off his glasses, put down his paper and addressed the
pretty young woman sitting at the other end of the breakfast table.
"You're very quiet this morning, Portia, m'dear?"
"Monosyllables are all the rage now, Daddy. Haven't you noticed
that Freddie's vocabulary consists entirely of 'ugh', 'um', 'like y'
know', and 'wha?"
"Your brother is sixteen, Portia, you're twenty-three. And you
left out 'wicked."
"Wicked is so five minutes ago, Daddy. No one says wicked any more."
"This chap did — twice."
Her father picked up the paper and read from it. "Mr Justin Toland
claims he was buzzed by a UFO on Saturday afternoon while walking his
dog in Westwood Spinney. Mr Toland, an Estate Agent from East Purley,
told our reporter: 'I ruined a really wicked pair of cavalry twills
when that bloody great UFO swooped over my head. Those trousers cost
me two hundred quid and were well wicked.'
Portia dropped the croissant that was halfway to mouth and choked on
"Are you alright, darling?"
Her father regarded her quizzically. "Please don't say 'wha' again,
She put down her cup with a trembling hand and wiped her pretty pink
lips with her napkin. The napkin blushed. "Sorry, Daddy. Did you
"That's what it says here. 'Another eyewitness stated that he saw
a monkey dressed in a checked sports jacket leaving the scene in the
company of an attractive young woman. Mr Toland is convinced the animal
is the alien pilot of the strange craft which buzzed him — why, Portia,
You've turned as white as a sheet. Are you ill?"
"Pale and interesting is cool this year, father," she replied,
tucking a strand of her long, blond hair behind her enchanting left
ear. The strand crept back. Her lips were on the point of complaining
about it when her father spoke again.
"I hope you've not been playing with fire again? That flibbertigibbet
Romola Spencer has a Police record, you know."
"Wha — Whatever do you mean, Daddy?"
"Don't play the innocent with me. I'm a Bishop, not a monk. I know
you've been sleeping at her flat, my girl."
"Will you STOP saying that!"
"D-did you say a m-monkey in a checked sports jacket?"
"Yes, monkey. That's what it says here. 'Mr Toland told this reporter
that he saw the young woman sexually abusing the animal. When we contacted
the Police, WPC French, an officer with the Purley Vice squad, said
she couldn't rule out the possibility that the chimpanzee may be at
the centre of a bizarre vice ring involving several local women.' Portia?
You're choking! Do you know something about this? Portia! PORTIA! Mrs
Pratt — come quickly, I think my daughter's fainted!"
Romola slipped noiselessly into Yyerg's room. He was naked, the duvet
lying in a heap beside the bed. It would have much preferred to be wrapped
round Romola's silken thighs, but even a threadbare carpet was preferable
to being wedged up an alien's bottom. Romola marveled at his human-like
appearance. His muscles rippled in the moonlight filtering through the
blinds; his sultry eyes were half-shut. Her legs were half open and
getting wider by the minute. Silently, she slid into bed beside him
and took him in her arms. The duvet trembled with anticipation and crept
further up her shapely calf.
"I promise I'll be gentle this time", she murmured impatiently.
Yyerg awoke with a start. His lunchbox awoke slightly later. The duvet
had never been asleep.
"Nooo..." he cried, "Not again! I've had enough of your
filthy drugs....you, y-you sex-devil!"
"Just a teeny nibble..."
"I won't, I tell you!"
"Pleaseee, Yyergie, darling. Just a little bite." Romola dropped
an After-Eight wafer into her mouth and crushed her lips against his.
Yyerg struggled as the bittersweet chocolate melted under her probing
tongue. His lunchbox gave up the struggle and leaped towards her. The
duvet rustled with delight.
Romola caressed his pert young bottom, feeling his lunchbox stiffen
as she popped another mint into his resisting mouth. "Take my panties
off!" she commanded.
"First more choclit!" he demanded sulkily. Romola giggled
triumphantly, and fed him with her tongue. Soon the packet was half
empty and joined her panties and the duvet on the floor. The duvet embraced
the panties with a shiver of delight. The chocolate nestled down contentedly
between them. Romola just moaned. Yyerg's organs were like two gleaming
courgettes on the ends of his flexible tentacles. He looked at her with
his big yellow eyes, irises dilated to wide circles. "One, or both?"
he asked, eager to please her now the filthy alien drug had worked its
evil spell on him.
"Silly boy," she laughed, guiding one magic wand into her
bottom and the other between her thighs. She squealed as he entered
her. The duvet positively yelped with pleasure. Even the remaining chocolates
did a little jig to impress her knickers. Yyerg made love to her while
her tongue played havoc with his tonsils. He cried out as her fingers
raked his back. "You promised to cut them!
"I lied," giggled Romola and dug her nails in. The duvet
tried to dig in too, but got caught by her left foot and made do with
wrapping itself around her shapely ankles. Yyerg yelped as her nails
raked his bottom and she came in a shattering, explosive orgasm. What
the duvet felt can only be guessed at, but the noise it made caused
three chocolate mints to jump out of their sleeves and into her knickers.
Then she came again. Yyerg came rather later. The duvet didn't come
at all, but the three chocolates did, melting spectacularly into the
warm folds of her designer underwear.
Romola lay back with a sigh of contentment and reverently stroked the
twin authors of the wonderful glow suffusing her grateful body. They
were coated with a pale brownish fluid. Romola's tongue flicked out.
"Yummy!" she murmured greedily, "I'm sure this is alcoholic."
Yyerg watched her lap up the glistening liquid and trembled. Would he
ever escape these alien sex devils and their filthy drugs?
Romola kissed him passionately and climbed onto his lap: "Have another chocolate