Pixie Pt. 04 Ch. 03: Sinn Club

'How the fuck can Sarah have a clue for us? She's almost as vanilla as you, and this Broad is devious.'

Miss Sinn was sprawled on the chaise longue, her slit skirt revealing her stocking tops and long, shapely legs. Her silk blouse, with one button more than necessary undone, revealed her dark purple silk bra, which matched, and I could just see her panties. She pushed her gold-rimmed spectacles to the end of her retroussé nose and looked at me quizzically.

'I know, Angie, everyone who won't let you into their panties is vanilla, which probably makes me and my wife the last two vanilla women in the world.'

She gave vent to that long, throaty laugh which usually left me weak at the knees.

'Sure, I know,' I said, 'but Sarah is a member of an exclusive London lesbian club, and she has seen Lady Sonia there. She frequents the basement, so Sarah has been told.'

Angie looked puzzled.

'Maybe that's where the restrooms are, what's that got to do with anything?"

'Silly Angie, it is also where the dungeons and the BDSM activities happen. If she is going down there, it isn't for vanilla sex. So we have a way in.'

Angie smiled.

'Would Sarah be willing to take me there as a visiting American pervert?'

'Only if you let me come,' I added.

'Oh, I am sure we could let you cum, Hun.'

There she went again. Her ability to make comments that aroused me, whilst making them sound normal, was remarkable. But I was a married woman, and I abstracted my mind and thought on the case.

Sir David L, as he liked to be called, to protect his identity, had come to the Agency. He was a senior politician in charge of the Cabinet Office, and had recently remarried, to a model half his age with the pneumatics of a car air-bag. She had, he explained to Angie, had a bit of a dubious past, from which his love had redeemed her, but one of his political rivals had got hold of some incriminating tapes of her, and she was threatening to release them to the press unless Sir David paid a lot of money in rubles to a Swiss bank account.

I had done a bit of digging about. It seemed too simple to assume it was the Russian mafia. I had been in touch with Ekaterina, Emm's Mistress, who had a finger in most dirty dealings with England, and she said that there was no one there with an interest in Sir David. But, she added, smiling as we Skyped (well, Emm was, by the look of it, eating her out), that there was someone called 'Lady Sonia,' who had recently bought a dacha on the Black Sea coast.

That turned out to be useful information, as I told Sarah, and now Angie. Lady Sonia had been a contemporary of Sir David's at Cambridge and had designs upon him after his divorce. She had taken his remarriage badly, and was not, it seemed, trying to take him to the cleaners in revenge.

Angie smiled.

'You are such a clever little thing, Pixlet, why don't you run away to the Caribbean with me for a dirty weekend lasting a year or two?'

I smiled back.

'Because Sarah would have us hunted down and shot, and, besides, I love her.'

'You are such a sentimental little Pixlet, maybe that's why I want you?'

'You want me, Angie,' I told her, 'because you can't have me.'

She grinned.

I talked to my wife that evening, and she happily agreed to take Angie and I there for what she called the 'Friday fun night.'

Monica, Angie's partner in crime, seemed glum when I told her the news.

'She never takes me anywhere except to dungeons and the like.'

'But Mons,' I said, smiling at the darling woman, 'you like that.'

She grinned back.

'Yes, Ma'am, I love it, but sometimes dinner first would be nice.'

Like me, she was a hopelessly sentimental romantic. I think that the hard-bitten Angie got that, but her sensibilities were not ours.

'You and Angie are like two sides of the same coin,' I replied, 'but it might look better if you did come on Friday as her partner, it would arouse less suspicion.'

'Really?' She grinned.

'Yes,' I responded, 'it would also reduce the chances of Sarah ending up in her bed.'

'Well, Ma'am, were that to happen, I can assure you that you would be a most welcome visitor to mine. In fact,' and there, with a glint in her eye, the sentence ended, and the promise hung in the air between us.

I had to admit to myself that I could think of worse ways of consoling myself for Sarah's temporary absence than in Monica's bed. She looked elegant, exquisite, and almost prim and proper. But if one paid attention, there were signs that she was a sexual volcano waiting to explode.

Her clothes were always of the highest quality. She had an eye for fashion and for what suited her. Her legs were always clad in the most expensive stockings, and her Louboutin shoes were nicely understated but sexy. Her dresses were designed to fit in a way that drew one's eyes to her breasts, which although small (not as small as mine though), were shapely. They tended to cinch in at her small waist, before falling in pleats across her hips. Whatever perfume she was using did the trick, if the trick was to make one interested in her sexually. She was not, unlike Miss Sinn, upfront with her sexiness, and might pass unnoticed by cruder eyes than mine. But to my way of thinking she was a sexy woman with whom I should have been happy to have shared a bed.

Our flirting did the trick. Angie agreed that Mons would be her partner for the evening, which produced a squeal of joy from her:

'Oh thank you, Mistress, I mean Ma'am,' she blushed and stuttered. I had wondered, and that rather gave the game away. Still, it was their business, and I loved them both and was happy to think that when in London, Angie had a regular partner for her diversions. I knew she had one in the States, but had yet to meet Courtney.

'I have even better news,' I added.

'What's that?'

'Well, even together, it is hard to see how we can attract Lady Sonia's attention without arousing suspicion, but Emm is going to be in London on Friday and will be joining us, fresh from her Oscar success in 'Slut Academy 3: Utter depravity.' I suspect that may draw her ladyship to us. And just in case, I have arranged,' I added, 'for Annie to intercept the woman Lady Sonia is supposed to be meeting there, so she will be, as it were, at a loose end.'

Annie, Angie's other Associate, kept tabs on the top-end Escort Agencies, where she had good contacts. As she said, 'a girl has to earn a bit more on occasions, and you never know when it will be useful.' So it had turned out. Her contact there, Emily, had said that Lady Sonia had hired a woman called Gaynor, who was well-known for what she called 'her ways with posh bitches.' That sounded promising on a number of levels. Annie, ever self-sacrificing, volunteered to intercept Gaynor at the bar the Escorts used before moving on. None of us doubted Annie's capacity, but the red mini-dress she was wearing would have intercepted a Saint, let alone a sinner like Gaynor.

Sarah looked dishy, as ever. I loved her in that green dress, low cut enough to reveal some cleavage, but not so low as to look slutty. The black bra and knickers she was wearing underneath were my promise for later, and her four-inch heels lent her just that bit of extra height, which excited me.

I stuck with my faithful little black dress, which was mid-thigh. Its bodice had the advantage of not showing pokies, which as I never wore a bra, mattered. Sarah insisted I wear a black silk thong, fitting it herself; which almost delayed us.

Angie and Mons were waiting in the foyer of the Club.

Miss Sinn was clearly in.

Her dress was long and sheer, with slits to the thigh, and a neckline which threatened to, as it were, spill the beans. Her hair was high in a chignon, and her make-up, as ever, perfect. As she walked, other women stopped and stared. Dressed like that, I doubted we'd have had much trouble in picking up Lady Sonia, even without Emm.

Monica was in a most fetching red silk dress, which fitted her figure perfectly. She and Angie made a most elegant pair. Then in wafted Emm.

If Angie made other women stop and stare, Emm was a heart-stopper.

If a dress is two pieces of material held together by safety-pins, then what Emm was wearing could be called a dress. It was scarlet, draped elegantly from her shoulders where it just covered her obviously bra-less breasts, before cascading down over her ass, the pins revealing that she was not wearing any panties either.

'My darlings!' She exclaimed in her best Hollywood style, giving Sarah a big kiss, followed by one for Angie. I vanished into her breasts and needed Sarah to extract me.

'And who is this gorgeous little thing?' She asked, kissing Mons anyway.

Monica was blushing all the way to the bar. Emm had struck again. It is said that precision missiles had ninety-five percent accuracy, if they were like Emm, they'd have a hundred percent.

Across the way I spotted Lady Sonia. It was now eight thirty, and her escort had not shown. Annie had struck again. I could see she was looking at her phone, and getting more and more irritated.

Emm ordered the waitress to send her a kir royale and add it to our bill.

I watched.

Lady Sonia at first turned the drink away, explaining she had not ordered it, but when she heard that the striking blonde in the red dress had sent it, smiled at us and accepted. Emm, imperious as only she could be, beckoned her ladyship over. This would be the test.

And it worked. One hundred percent accuracy, that was Emm.

'Don't I know you from somewhere?' Lady Sonia began, before realising who it was.

'You are Emm_du_jour, from the film, the Oscars, oh, such a pleasure to meet you, I am such a fan! I have seen all your films.'

Emm's smile could have lit a city.

'That's a darling thing to say. Will you join us for supper, these are my friends.'

She introduced us all, and Lady Sonia said she listened to Sarah's programme on Radio 3, and was glad to see that she was quite as sexy in person as she was on the radio. She more or less ignored me, but made up for it by obviously lusting after Angie. Well, I was used to that, and it gave me the opportunity to liaise with Annie by text, which turned out to be very useful.

Gaynor, it transpired, had been hired to attend to Lady Sonia's 'special needs.' It had taken Annie several bottles of wine and a hotel room with Gaynor to discover that her Ladyship liked her 'bit of rough' to abuse her and treat her like a slut. Her specialty was to be made to lick the arse of said 'bit of rough.' All of that seemed very unlikely, listening to her cut-glass accent braying away, but then that, of course was the whole point. We knew what it was she had to hide, the question was now how we got her to the point at which we could use that information to compromise her.

Lady Sonia agreed to join us at our table. Angie, adept at chatting up slightly drunk lesbians, pushed the conversation, as only she could, in a sexually explicit direction.

'So, you are Lady Sonia, right, does that mean you are in the House of Lords, like?'

Of course Angie knew full well it didn't, but it allowed her ladyship to do what the British aristocracy do so well, patronise Americans.

'No my darling, though half the House of Lords would be in me, if I wasn't batting for the other side the other half of the time.'

Monica giggled appreciatively, getting an approving grin from Lady Patronising Bitch, who prattled on about the British class system.

'I find that so fascinating, Lady Sonia,' Angie lied fluently, 'but I have to say if I had a maid, I'd find it hard to keep my hands from under her pretty little skirt - a bit like I do with Monica here.'

Monica blushed becomingly, to Lady Sonia's delight.

'So, my little one,' she said, patronising Mons, 'am I to understand that Miss Sinn sins with you?'

Mons nodded, blushing, as Lady Sonia's hand disappeared up her skirt.

'Well,' said Emm, 'it's not that easy, Angie, as I know from my movies.'

Angie asked her to explain, which she did over the main course, and several glasses of wine each.

'I've often played the part of the innocent young aristocratic lady who ends up licking the arse of her maid.'

'It's called role reversal,' I helpfully explained, 'it's a very English thing. We're a very hierarchical society, and there is a certain type of aristocratic woman who gets off on the idea of being made to serve a servant, or a member of the lower orders.'

'Yes,' Emm added, 'as a posh girl myself, I have to say that the idea of some bit of rough treating me as a whore would make me cream my panties, if I was wearing any.'

The look on Lady Sonia's face was priceless.

'Well,' said Sarah, 'it's a good job you aren't downstairs now Emm, this is Friday fun night, and even as we speak, there are women on leashes in the private rooms. But I wouldn't want to shock Lady Sonia, who although a member as I am, no doubt steers clear of such things.'

'Aw, spoilsport,' Angie drawled, 'I'd just love to see it, and am sure Lady Sonia is more broadminded than you.'

'Well,' Lady Sonia pretended to hesitate, 'it might be interesting to watch.'

'It is okay,' I said, 'phones are collected at the door, so what happens in the rooms stays there.'

'Ah,' said her Ladyship, perking up, 'in that case.'

I smiled at Angie, who winked at me.

'Okay ladies, let's all go down,' Sarah said.

'On each other, Ma'am?' Monica enquired in an innocent voice. Butter would not have melted in her mouth, I told Angie, to which responded:

'I wouldn't be putting it in her mouth.'

And with that, we adjourned for coffee and drinks in the downstairs bar.