Destroying Angel (3 page)

Their sex had been good – wonderful, in fact – uninhibited and passionate, driven by having wanted each other for weeks before it had actually happened. There was a pleasant, sexy ache to her bottom: sexy because it reminded her of what Paulette had done with her hand, the bath-brush, a long-handled hairbrush, and finally a length of bamboo that they had borrowed from its normal job of propping up the cheese-plant. Not that Paulette had gotten away with it, Susan remembered, chuckling to herself at the memory of Paulette kneeling naked on the bed with her lovely bottom stuck up and six purple stripes standing out across the dark velvet of her cheeks. She shivered at the memory and turned her attention back to the cityscape.

She blew out her cheeks, still feeling a touch of tiredness, even after driving up to the Heath. Alan Sowerby had lived in Highgate and, by good fortune, one of Susan’s ex-colleagues was stationed nearby. Not that Paul Berner would have been her ideal choice, she considered. As a DC, he had been brash and cock-sure, making no secret of fancying her but ruining his chances by behaving like a chauvinistic pig, both on duty and off. Since then he had gained promotion to Detective Sergeant. So much she had discovered during their brief telephone conversation, and the higher rank seemed only to have added to his laddishness and self-assurance.

Walking down to the police station, she considered her best strategy. Berner had no reason to make life easy for her, but he had always fancied her and might well be persuaded to look up the information that Paulette wanted about Sowerby on the national police computer. Better still, he might have been involved with the Sowerby case, assuming the death had warranted a police investigation.

That was the crux of the matter. Paulette’s reasoning struck Susan as somewhat dramatic, also over-abstract: qualities that might be useful in a reporter but had little place in detection. Susan preferred a combination of hard fact and statistical analysis. Sowerby had been a gourmet, constantly sampling exotic dishes that most people would never even know about. He had died of poisoning from a lethal toadstool, the Destroying Angel,
Amanita Virosa
.

Susan had looked the species up, finding an unremarkable white fungus not unlike a field mushroom. Sowerby had been a writer, not a scientist, and it seemed perfectly reasonable to Susan that he might have made a fatal mistake. The thing was also rare and unquestionably lethal. Sowerby had been an expert on edible fungi, true, but that didn’t mean he was also an expert on poisonous ones.

Susan reached the police station and jumped up the front steps. It was a tall building of red brick, the old-fashioned blue lamp still in place over the main door. The desk sergeant called for Berner at her request, and a minute later he appeared.

‘Paul, hi,’ she greeted him as he pushed open the door that led into the interior of the station.

‘Susan, you haven’t changed at all,’ he replied, extending his hand. ‘Still as sexy as ever.’

Nor have you, Susan thought, noting that he had waited for the exact instant that the desk sergeant was out of hearing before making his remark. Actually he had changed, she corrected herself, at least physically. A little bald patch had started on the crown of his head and his face had picked up a line or two. Even at training college, when he had been among the best-looking of the cadets, there had been something sleazy about him. Now his looks were fading but the sleaziness was more pronounced than ever.

‘What can I do for you?’ Berner asked affably, turning back to Susan as he made his way along the passage.

‘I was wondering if you could give me some information?’ Susan asked.

‘Maybe,’ Berner replied. ‘Look, my governor’s out; let’s use his office.’

‘Sure,’ Susan replied as she followed him up a flight of stairs.

Berner said nothing more until he was seated behind the desk in the DI’s office, then flipped a cigarette into his mouth and offered one to Susan. She declined and watched him go through the motions of lighting up. She remembered his habit of smoking, something that particularly disgusted her and another reason that she had never accepted a date with him.

‘So,’ he asked, ‘what’s up?’

‘I wanted to know about a man called Sowerby, Alan Sowerby,’ Susan began, deciding to cut straight to the point. ‘He died a few weeks ago, ostensibly of food poisoning. I need to know if his death was considered suspicious.’

‘That’s tricky,’ Berner answered, sucking air between his teeth, an irritating mannerism Susan remembered from when they had been colleagues. ‘It wasn’t a case I had anything to do with, or I’d remember; and, as you well know, we’re not supposed to take stuff off the computer for any old Joe Public who walks in.’

‘I’m not any old Joe Public,’ Susan answered. ‘I’m an ex-colleague and a private investigator as well.’

‘Well…’ Berner answered, once more sucking air between his teeth.

‘Come on, Paul,’ Susan urged, ‘it won’t take a second.’

‘Hmm…’ Berner continued, wheeling the chair back from the desk and sitting back casually with his knees apart. ‘Maybe, but…’

It took Susan a fraction of a second to realise what he wanted. He’d been notorious for it, boasting about how many blow-jobs he got and how many girls were eager to suck him.

‘Paul—’ she began to remonstrate, only to be cut off by his sly smile and a gentle shake of his head.

‘Come on, Susan, it won’t take a second,’ he quipped, imitating her voice as his hand went to his zip.

‘For goodness’ sake, Paul,’ Susan protested. ‘You can’t just—’

‘Oh, yes, I can,’ Berner answered, ‘and it won’t be the first time.’

‘Don’t be a dirty bastard, Paul,’ Susan tried, hoping to play on whatever sense of morality he might have left. ‘You just can’t expect me to do that—’

‘Come on,’ Berner broke in, ‘a quick blow-job never hurt anyone. You should be pleased to get the offer from a good-looking guy like me.’

‘I—’ Susan started, barely able to believe Berner’s sheer arrogance.

‘Jesus, you girls make a fuss,’ Berner exclaimed. ‘What’s the big deal? You open your mouth, in goes my cock, you suck a bit, I come, you swallow, it’s all over. No big deal, right?’

‘No, it’s not right,’ Susan snapped. ‘It’s a really intimate thing to do! Especially if you come!’

His expression hardened at her reluctance. ‘It’s simple,’ he said quietly. ‘You want your information, you suck my cock. You don’t want it, you don’t have to suck me. Take your pick.’

‘I…’ Susan began again, only to stop, unsure how to continue. She looked out of the window to the jumble of red-brick houses and tiled roofs that stood to the rear of the station. Berner was an oily self-satisfied bastard, yet the combination of talking dirty and his very arrogance were starting to get to her. One thing was certain, he wasn’t going to back down. If she wanted her information she was going to have to do what he demanded. She needed the information, but did she need it that badly?

‘Come on, Susie, you know you want to,’ Berner wheedled.

‘That’s what you think,’ she answered, half-intent on not ending up on her knees with his cock in her mouth, half-wanting exactly that.

‘Hey, look,’ he said. ‘If it’s your precious pride or reputation or whatever you’re worrying about, then don’t. It’ll just be between us, and come on, you know you’ll enjoy it.’

‘Isn’t there something else you might want?’ Susan asked desperately.

‘A shag?’

‘No—’ Susan started hotly, then stopped. It was hopeless.

‘Come on, Susie,’ Berner said.

‘Okay!’ she snapped. ‘Okay… But at least have the decency to lock the door.’

‘Good point, good point,’ Berner remarked as he got to his feet. ‘Oh, and you can get your tits out, too. I’ve always wanted to see your tits.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Susan answered him, starting to unbutton her blouse as the latch snapped into place on the door lock.

‘Good girl,’ Berner remarked, watching Susan expose the swell of her breasts with undisguised relish. ‘I’m going to enjoy this. I always did think you’d look good with your face wrapped around my cock.’

‘I’m sure you did,’ Susan responded. ‘You always were a dirty bastard. Look, you can come on my boobs or in your hand, but not in my mouth, okay?’

‘Fair enough,’ Berner agreed. ‘But I don’t see why you’re so fussy.’

Because you’re a slime-ball, she thought as he slouched back in the chair and once more spread his knees wide. She had reached the lowest button of her blouse and was pulling the tails out of her jeans, having decided to take it off rather than risk making a mess of it. He pulled his zip down as she unclipped her bra, flopping his cock into his hand as her breasts were bared to his lecherous gaze.

‘Oh, they’re nice,’ he leered, beginning to stroke his penis. ‘Lovely and big. Did you know the boys used to call you Peaches?’

‘No,’ Susan admitted, somewhat flattered despite herself. She took off her bra and hung it on the back of the chair with her blouse. Berner’s cock was semi-stiff, the foreskin beginning to roll back.

‘Come on, show them off,’ he demanded.

Susan reluctantly cupped a breast in each hand, holding them together and then leaning forward to make the best of her cleavage. Berner sat with his eyes fixed on her, his fingers moving his foreskin up and down as his cock expanded. Susan bounced her breasts in her hands and ran her thumbs over the nipples, making them erect.

‘Your tits are gorgeous, Susie,’ Berner said. ‘Now come and get that pretty mouth around my cock.’

Susan hesitated for a moment, and then walked around the desk and knelt between his legs, his cock inches from her face. Intent on teasing him, she stroked her fingernails slowly down his shaft, making him expel his breath with a sharp hiss.

‘Come on then, love, get on with it,’ Berner said, his voice slightly hoarse.

She took his cock gingerly in her hand and held it, squeezing gently and feeling the thick shaft pulse. It was pale and rather fleshy, sprouting up from a nest of dark hair: an obscene sight – deliciously obscene. Reasoning that she might as well make the best of it, Susan tweaked down the front of Berner’s jockey shorts and pulled out his balls, cupping them in her hand as she stroked his cock.

‘You’re loving this, aren’t you?’ Berner said thickly. ‘I always knew you were a tart underneath.’

Instead of answering, Susan gulped his cock into her mouth and started to suck. He tasted salty and male, his prick thickening quickly as she slid her lips up and down the shaft. Berner’s words were coarse, insulting, but that was exactly what was starting to turn her on. That, and being made to suck his cock. To have to kneel topless on the office floor with a man’s erection in her mouth was wonderfully rude, dirty, undignified, and exactly the sort of thing that excited her.

She started playing with his balls, stroking and squeezing them as his cock reached full erection in her mouth. He was quite big, much bigger than she’d have expected from its size when limp. She pulled back briefly to admire it, a fat, swollen prick rearing up over good-sized balls. Suddenly, she genuinely wanted to suck it, to feel the lovely thickness in her mouth, to work eagerly and obediently on his prick.

As she sucked and Berner began to moan, her fantasies turned to exploit the full potential of the situation. Maybe she should be stripped naked and fucked over the desk. It would be nice to be beaten first; to have his belt taken to her plump white bottom, then forced to suck him again, and finally to have him use her vagina, rough and hard until she was moaning and begging for it. Perhaps he’d even put it up her bottom, not bothering to ask, but just casually bum-shagging her while he smoked his filthy cigarette with one hand and carelessly fondled her tits with the other. Yes, that would be perfect: beaten and then buggered by a man who just took her as if it was something to do for a laugh.

Berner put one of his hands on the back of Susan’s head and twisted a handful of hair into his fist. His cock was rock-solid in her mouth, a hard rod of flesh on which he was pulling her face slowly up and down, controlling her as he fucked her mouth. He pulled clear, then put the tip of his cock against her lips. She pursed them obligingly, letting him penetrate her mouth and slide it in until it was squashed to the very back of her throat and she started to gag.

‘That’s good,’ he sighed, once more starting the same action.

Susan let her fantasy run, although determined to give him only what he had asked for and nothing more. Despite that, she sneaked one hand between her legs to surreptitiously stroke her pussy through her jeans, rubbing the swollen lips and sending little thrills through her body. As he started to grunt and thrust his hips she knew he was approaching orgasm. Despite her mounting pleasure, she still didn’t want him to come in her mouth. She tried to pull back, but was held steady by the fist in her hair. His cock jerked and suddenly her mouth was full of salty sperm. He let go and Susan pulled back, only to receive a second jet of seed all over her breasts. She reluctantly swallowed his copious emission.

‘Oh, Susie, you fucking gorgeous little tart,’ he rasped as he hit the peak of his orgasm.

She slumped back, looking down at her splashed boobs, and aware that it was also on her chin. ‘Dirty bastard!’ she managed. ‘I told you not to!’

‘Ah, you love it!’ Berner said as he relaxed back into the chair. ‘Fuck me, but that was good. Do you want to come? You can do it in front of me if you like.’