Wee bit o fluff

So we’re rollin doon tae Leith in the Volvo, stereo cranked up with ‘Led Zep II’, a primal work, never bettered. An I’m tryin not tae let the anxiety attacks start doin me in agin. A fool’s errand this, nae job for a polis. An that goes double for me, ace crimefighter, detective par excellence, and the only professional in this force n aw. Nae but a fookin babysitter I am today. What bullshit. Worse, it’s a sop tae some dopey community relations cow. She’s fitted me up good. Chauffeur and bagboy for this American tart. Aye, she’s not a bad wee piece o fluff, I canna say otherwise. But Brucie shouldn’t be dragged into this kinda stunt, even for penance. Even though I fooked up, royally. Aye, a few too many lagers at the lodge, an a few ‘choppa line now’ nostrils of fine posh. An yes I did call a couple of uniform spastics total cunts and bumfie boys. Broke the windae of their car. Grabbed the arse of some frigid lezbo and proposed marriage, or the equivalent. Nae cause for the boss ta say it’s attitude adjustment time for DS Robertson. No, quite out of line. Doesna every bugger have a bad day? Stressed, that’s what I am. The wee bird is talkin up a storm. Hasnae stopped since she got in at the Shearaton, flashin her legs at me under that miniskirt. Dressed like a tart or one of they Goths, all in black. “Whois yer mournin?” I asks her, an she just giggles. “New York chic,” she says, lightin up a ciggie. Nae offers me one. Tightfisted bitch. “Aye?” I say. “We like chicks here. No? Well, Edina’s nae New York, but youse just tell me what you wants ta see, and Brucie’ll see ye straight.” “I’m just in for the day, then on to Manchester, then London. Idea is to get a feel for law enforcement procedures here. The way you guys deal with drug problems is particularly interesting. My newspaper is fascinated by how other countries deal with addicts, sellers, the gangs.” “Not so differently, I imagine. Scum is scum. They’re kind of blatant now. Fearless, even. Except we don’t go in wi guns blazin, and we don’t expect our wee cowboys to be doin the same in return. Sophisticated violence here is a bottle in the face, a good kickin, maybe a petrol bomb.” Daft cow, I’m thinkin. What can we tell her about drug enforcement? We don’t hardly do any. Bugger all serious, at any road. Just give a lot of students, jakies and befuddled schemies a hard time. The polis state, it be we. Zero tolerance of the poor and their scummy habits. We ignore the big operators, cos they’re too powerful or too well plugged into the politics here. “Are your methods successful?” “I’d hate to pass judgement. No as good as they might be,” I lie. Thinkin ‘nae, they’re a fookin waste o time. What we need is to dae it yer way, blow the haids off some of these cunts. Death squads, aye. Reduce the demand by killin a few junkie scumbags. But even then, a lost battle, maybe. Wi a 1000% percent markup for some shit between Turkey or Burma and here, what’s tae stop it? Like pissin up a rope.’ “So’s Leith a real hard core area? I only know it from some album. The Proclaimers?” she chirps. “Aye, it’s pretty hard, awright. We’ll go get some breakfast, I’m starvin. You too? Then try a few bars, like. See some local hard cases in their native environment, so to speak.” I’m keepin an eye on this number now. The Proclaimers, eh? I grab a KitKat and expertly peel it open while drivin. Blast the horn at some old spazzos as I roar past them. She’s in her early thirties I’d guess, frizzy black coon hair. Jewish I’m sure. Well, that’s white enough to me. Big hooked nose, little gold-rimmed glasses, earrings the size o chandeliers. Exotic little beast. A real performer, I got nae doubt about that. Judith Stern. Tiny wee thing, nae more than shoulder high, wi surprisin big tits. Silicone, maybe? Brucie wants to find out. Kinda plain, with that big arse all these American women have. But that’s nothin to deter me. I’m a rump fiend. She’s annoyin and amusin at the same time. Never shuts up yappin and askin questions, big toothpaste ad grin. Like a commercial fi blowjobs. Lively, bright. Ye never see birds behave like this in Edina. Maybe it’s the food. Maybe the poxy weather. Or maybe they gets it knocked oot of them in school and by they boyfriends. Like some character frae a soap opera, this one. “And are you planning on any arrests today?” she asks, daft as a fookin brush. “Solo? I doubt it, maks nae sense unless there’s something really blatant goin down. But I’ll call for some uniforms if I do. Ye haftae watch your rear. Can get a wee bit hairy here sometimes.” Like your cunt, missie, aim thinkin to myself. I feel the old knob stiffenin up in my flannels as I try to conjure up what it must look like. This wee Judy is very shaggable, almost up to prime porno movie standards. Does she come across, or nae? Has that dikey air about her, but again, what’s that to me? I’ll bounce on her, if she gives me a chance. “So, what was your weirdest case, sergeant?” she asks, like a total idiot. Is this from like newspaper school? “Tell me about some of the things you’ve worked on.” “Weirdest? Well, Serious Crimes gets the bad end of the casebook, you understand,” I tell her carefully. Mustn’t wind her up wi nae but drug stories. “That’s only half of what we do here. Few murders. Lot of arson. Domestic violence that gets into really messy stuff.” “It’s a hard-drinking town, they say. Lot of violence.” “Oh, one of the worst, yes. But Scotland as a whole, it’s a boozer’s paradise.” “And you get your share of cases from that.” “Not so many as the uniformed spastics. They’re always bein called out for women thrown out the window, guys wi carvin knives in the guts. Fellas walkin into Casualty wi a hatchet stuck in they haids. Eyegougin. The usual, really.” “Gross!” “Well, about three months back, there was this bust. Car thieves, nothin glamorous, druggie like. In this area. Local hoodlums, little schemie boys wi a dream of rippin off expensive cars – not that there are many, and sellin them down in England, Midlands somewhere.” “Schemie?” She says blankly. “Meanin, they live in the housin schemes, the council suburbs like. After redevelopment.” “Ah.” “But here’s the funny bit. Weird, even. We bust in on this old warehouse. Me and my partner of the time. Poor bugger, dead now. Killed hisself. But I digress. Starsky and Hutch time, it was. Couple of uniforms hangin around outside to prevent any rash escapes. In we go, almost New York style, shoutin for everyone to freeze, stay right there. Course, we’re just waving truncheons and lookin like hard nuts. Nae guns n aw. And my eyes are buggin out my heid. There’s just these three skanky guys, real derelict types in my view, an they’ve got this young woman, nae older than you I’d say, tied up.” “They’d kidnapped her?” her eyes all horrorstruck, like doin some daft Jamie Lee Curtis thing. “Don’t rush me, Judy. Kidnapped? Nae, I think not. This yin is stark naked, all her clathes neatly folded. She’s face doon on this table, facin awa frae us, an I hear her say, ‘Why’d youse stop? Come on, Douglas.’ But this Douglas scumbag is headed for the door, throwin down this great thick leather belt he’s wieldin.” “Oh, my God,” she gasps. “He’d been beating her?” “Oh, aye. Her backside’s all covered wi stripes, an she’s beggin him for more. Then she catches on, twists round and sees us. See, she’s over this table, her bum in the air, showin it all. But she doesn’t start screamin or anything. Just watches us, dumb-like.” “And what happened?” “Oh, we shoved these goons outside, and let the uniforms take them in. While we secured the crime scene, like, did some investigation. Ah, here we are.” We pull up at this greasy spoon. Judy is naggin now, askin for the rest of the story. I order eggs, bacon, baked beans, black pudding, chips. She orders toast. “How can you eat like that? The food here is so unhealthy,” she says, all disapproving. Like the young dyke WPCs, always chewin on salads, when it’s nae even summer. Cattle food. “So they say, but it suits the climate,” I tells her. “Lotsa carbohydrates. Good fer ye.” “Bruce, listen. So what happened?” “Wi the lass, you mean?” I ask her. I see some excitement in her eye. Yes, this story is the right yin tae spin her. “Well, I have tae ask her a few questions, of course.” “You didn’t untie her, let her put her clothes on?” she says with fascinated horror. “No, that would have been tamperin with the evidence, you see.” “Oh, my god,” she breathes. “I don’t believe I’m listening to this.” “And we needed to look her over, after all. Make sure she wasn’t injured.” “But didn’t she start screaming or anything?” “Not at all. We’d identified ourselves as police officers. I had this suspicion she might be a prostitute. Ye know? From the way she stayed quiet. Those lasses, they know how to behave. But, no. Turns out she was just some housewife out fi fun. Husband works on the oil rigs, away for weeks. Goin crazy on her ane, I suppose. Women do, y’know? Soap operas, magazines, wanking. She’d met these types, students, in a pub. A few whiskies. They’d started comin on to her, But all this daft caper was her idea. The ‘tied up, hit me wi a belt’ stuff.” Judy stares. Does nae speak. “Well, it’s no sae uncommon, is it? For lasses or fellas, I mean?” I ask, actin all innocent meself now. “We’ve arrested a few slags in our time. There’s plenty offerin that service tae men at the whorehouses here. It’s more a thing fi the English poofter types, truck drivers n aw. Big business at Festival time, they say. But it’s hardly peculiar. Not your Kraft-Ebbing, like women being shagged by dogs n that, eh?” “Maybe not,” she breathes. “So, what did you charge them with?” “Just breakin and enterin. Was nae their warehouse after all. And there was some fingerprints of theirs on one of the stolen cars. So we booked em for that lark too.” Judy turns us back to drug offenses. And we sit and watch local schemies and derelicts come and go, eyein me cautiously. One or two I’ve put away. An I probably will again. I eat heartily. One way to give a hangover the boot. She pulls out a credit card. I laugh. “Don’t be daft. We’ll either do cash, or they’ll wave us out the door, oh so politely. Freeman’s. These fellas know who they friends are.” In the Volvo, headed away, she says: “Listen. I still can’t get over that story you were telling before.” “The naked woman?” “Exactly.” “So what happened to her?” I smile. “A damsel in distress.” “So it seems. Did she complain about them?” “Them? No, I told you. She wanted it. She was more pissed at me!” An wasnae that the truth? I think with a big smile. This Judy’s got a look on her face. She’s either goin to launch into some big tirade or keep askin her daft questions. “So, you untied her? Let her go?” Should I tell her? What’s the risk? I can jes deny the whole story. It’s nae in any polis reports, that’s fi sure. “Uh, not straight away. Not till she told us the story, like.” Judy is blinking, totally astonished. Like a daft cow wi the BSE stuff. Surprised she’s no dribblin. In for a penny, eh? “No, we had to ask a few questions.” “And she’s there, naked? You didn’t cover her up?” “And tamper wi evidence? No! We just had a little chat.” “I don’t believe this,” she says, her face all pinched and white. But there’s a blush startin up her neck. Oh, yes miss, I’m thinkin. Ye like this story a good bit more than yiz is lettin on. “Wasn’t she embarrassed?” “I don’t think so. A tart, after all. Nae, I think she was enjoyin it. Thinkin that maybe another wee fantasy was comin true, maybe…” “How do you know that? Are you guessing?” “No way. She’s wrigglin a bit, and, well, we wimmin you can just tell, can’t you? The way she tells me: ‘Listen, it were my idea. I don’t know them. Just some fellas I met in the pub. I thought it would be fun.’ ” Judy blushes. “You could tell it was true? Was she, well, was she inviting you, do you think?” “Nae doot in mah mind, Judy.” We pull up outside a bar. “Here we are. Couple of drinks. Wet the whistle, eh?” “It’s only eleven o’ clock!” she says, checking her watch. “Late for round here,” I say, cracking a big smile. “Do you good. Flavor of the place, eh? Local color.” She follows me into the smoky den. The local cowboys are in, drinking off their hangovers. Several glare at me, but nothing is said. I point out a few local muscle boys, burglars. “All out on parole, for a few weeks like. Thick bastards’ll be back inside before Hogmanay.” “Doesn’t seem the kind of place for bigtime criminals,” she says, cocky like. “Nae? Well, they’re all still in bed. Or in their offices. Biggest thieves in Edina are lawyers. Smooth operators. Lots of businesses that make nae sense, designer clothes, furniture like. Just a front. We got some new ones, Russians. Suits and ties. Above the law, they think they are. And so far, they’ve done well by it.” “All the criminals in their coats and ties are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise,” she says. “Bob Dylan.” “Aye? Reckon he’d know. He works for a crew of ’em. American record companies, eh?” “Japanese, now. Sony.” “There’s a disgrace for you. Those wee tricksters. Now, see that fella there? Wi the scar? Three-time killer. Enforcer for they Rooshians now. We’ve been tryin to fix him up for months.” “Who did he kill?” she whispers. “Just some other arsewipes. Druggies who didna pay up. Nothin sophisticated. Boxcutter type of fella. But we’ll get the bastard. Thick as a brick, him.” “The Russian and Chinese are everywhere,” she comments. “Aye lucky we yon Cold War, eh? Thinka the shit we’d a been in the ither way roond,” I laugh. “Just kiddin, lass.” We get a table in the corner, and I insist on a lager and a whisky chaser for both of us. Sipping her drink, she says: “I shouldn’t ask, but what happened with that woman? You didn’t say.” “Oh, ask away, luv! I let her go eventually.” “But…you had sex with her, didn’t you?” There’s a gleam in her eye. I think for a minute. This is what she wants to hear. “Had to, ye daft girl! She insisted. Got very rude and disrespectful when I suggested I might not.” “Oh, really!” she shudders. “I’m no kiddin ye,” I say, placing my hand on hers. “She says ‘Pick up that belt and give me a couple more on me arse, right now!’ I’m laughin aloud at this, of course. She’s screechin now, ‘Come on! I was nearly comin when ye barged in, ye big daft bastard!’ ” She fumbles for a ciggie, lights it, hands fluttering. “And you did?” “Too right! Aye. Damsel in distress, y’see? Bad to leave people frustrated. Source of all crime an unhappiness, in my humble opinion. Who knows what she might have done?” “You beat her, and had sex with her,” she says flatly. “It seemed the right thing to do. She were pleadin for it,” I laughs, sinking my pint and waving for another. Judy sits silent for a moment. “I suppose it was. The right thing, I mean.” An that’s the point at which I knew I’d be seein the inside of Miz Stern’s drawers today. Ye can jes tell. “Not that I’m the mistreatin kind, you understand?” I tells her. “Nae. Quite the opposite. The lovin kind, me. But ye hafta do what a lady wants. She wanted her bum strapped, and a good fookin. So, I obliged her.” “Did she come? From the strap, I mean?” Judy asks, blushing again. “Oh, very nice and lady-like at first, but swearin like a trooper when I decided to go round again an gie her another dozen. And, well I’m too bashful, but let’s say there were nae complaints about the other stuff, either. The old one-two.” “I’m shocked,” she says. But there’s no sign that this as a bit true. She’s excited. “Is that prudishness, or what?” I tease. “Not at all.” “So, am I asking the wrong question here? Is that your idea of a fun afternoon, too, Judy luv?” She glares at me, then whispers: “Not here. I’ll tell you later, maybe.” “Aye, have another drink first, though.” She drains her lager, quite professional like. See, birds can drink when the mood takes them. “May make you feel better, put a fresh idea or two in your haid.” “Oh, do I seem, like, uh, clueless?” she says, with a big grin. “No, not at all. You’re obviously a very bright young lady. And much more interstin than I’d guessed ye might be.” I see a look in her eyes here. “I’ve got to pee,” she says. “Where’s the, uh?” “Lady’s room? Well, you’ll find it a bit primitive. Down the corridor there. Under the sign that signs ‘Piss Off, Ya Bas’? Hoold yer breath, like.” She heads off, and I give a couple of glaring schemies the eye. Pull ‘The Sun’ out of my pocket and check some fitba results. She’s gone a while, enough time for me to drain the next pint. When she appears, she looks a wee bit flustered. “Ye awright?” I ask, as she sits down. “I thought ye’d fallen doon the hole, like.” “Primitive was the word,” she sniffs. “Aye. Schemies are nae so hygienic. Piss everywhere, like dogs. An this is no a fancy hotel, tha’s fer sure. Gets worse as the day goes on.” She tosses her head. “Yes, what would your word for it be, Bruce? ‘Disgoostin’?” I laugh. “Aye, ye’ve got it. Ye’ll learn tae speak proper reet soon.” She waves for another round. And the barkeep, not used to this at all, brings it. The servant classes, when ye gits down tae it. “Can I get a brandy instead?” she asks, giving a wee belch. “I’m not so used to whisky.” Well, three isnae enough, is it? An hour or two passes. We’re no sooner back in the Volvo, quite well lubricated too, when she leans over and says: “Well, what was your question again?” “Huh?” I reply intelligently, burping. “About that lass?” “Oh, ye seemed very interested. Wondered if that was, like, yer own kind of preference. Don’t be offended now.” “As a matter of fact, it is my kind of thing, yes. Are you shocked?” “Me? I’m nae puritan, in case I didna make meself clear.” “So is that interesting to you?” “Aye, sure it is. We have time, if ye’ve had yer fill o drinkin dens that is. Time fer some other masochism, eh?” “Are you suggesting something, sergeant?” “So long as your wee tape recorder stays off, maybe I am. We goin back to the hotel?” She nods quickly. “Aye. I mean, yes we are.” “Good,” I say, patting her bare thigh. She’s showin a lot of leg now. “Tell me some more about this woman. What was she like?” “Well, a scrubber like I said. Dyed blonde hair. Cheap clathes. A little fat round the arse. But no a bad looker. Big tits. Nice. Like yours, even.” She grins, complimented. “And she was really into it?” “Oh, her wee pussy was drippin somethin disgustin, take me word for it. Like a deep fried sausage roll.” She blushes. “I can imagine.” “I have some photos somewhere.” She snorts. “I might have guessed.” “Aye. An we’ve kept in touch, ever since. Told her, ‘don’t mess wi schemie scumbags when ye can have fun wi me. An get a good meal an a drink oot of it too. Her husband, he’s missin oot on some rare fun. Calls hisself a toolpusher, but, haha, that’s Brucie fer real.” I pull her tae me, grope her tits a little. They feel real enough tae me. She’s kissin quite hard, and giggles when I says: “We’ll have to feed ye some fine Scottish beef if yer gettin so fidgety, eh?” “Maybe.” “No maybe aboot it, I’d say. About eight inches of prime beef. That’ll put the roses back in yer cheeks.” “Jesus, don’t be subtle, will you? A born romantic, you are.” “Aye? Maybe I am, then. Am I ropin you down, Judy? Fer yer spankin, like? Or d’ye just fancy bein put o’er me knee, like a dirty wee schoolgirl?” “Whatever you want, so long as it’s good,” she smiles. “Don’t be too rough, though.” “Oh, it’ll be reeal good,” I laughs. “Championship. X-X-X rated. An nae polis brutality. I’ll save that fi the schemies.” She stays snuggled up to me all the way to the hotel. Lets me run me hand up her skirt, and discover how clammy her drawers are. Oh, fish supper it is today. She’s stroking me dick, squeezin it to show she means what she said. We try to look sober an in nae hurry as we get to the hotel. She’s pullin me along by the wrist when we get to her floor, and locks the door in a big hurry. I’m used to frantic women, but this one has a head of steam in her, ay’m no kiddin. I grab her again, start to pull her clathes off. She’s fumblin with mine. Hers are tight, difficult to figure out, and expensive as hell. We’re both pretty drunk. Nae quite three sheets, but wrecked enough so it’s a struggle te stay on our feet. As she pulls me trousers down and grabs at me pants, she gasps: “Oh, uncircumcised! My god!” “Aye we don’t go in for the ritual genital mutilation much round here. Leave that to the Africans n Ayrabs n aw.” Me cock is gummy, from all the up and doon of the flag this mornin. She’s nae deterred, not one bit. There’s some gropin goin on as though she’s thinkin of doin a bit of sword swallowin. But I wants her naked first. Like a kid ay Christmas, hafta unwrap the wee prezzy. I gets me own surprise as I peel her drawers off. They’re stuck on like a ten pound note to a jakey’s paw. But here she is, all shaved bald like a wee bairn. It’s like touchin suede. But suede that’s been used as a shammy leather. My finger slips right in her crack, with nae resistance. Ay, she has a wide on, that’s nae question. Pretty soon, all her stuff is strewn on the floor. An we’re wrestlin naked on it. She’s unnatural, the shape a her. Big tits, big backside, skinny as a flagpole otherwise. How’d ye get a figure like that? Page 3 material. “Beat me,” she’s splutterin in me ear. “Come on, you promised.” “Let me shag ye first,” I protest. “No! The belt!” I stagger back intae a chair, and pull her across me lap. Oh, she has a big bum on her, this lass. Nae sense in standin on ceremony. I let her have it, wi flat of me hand. Hard as I can. She grunts like a tackled forward, and says: “Harder. The belt!” I kick the belt to me side, and pick it up. Double it over, and let her have it right across both cheeks, like a pistol shot in some telly program. There’s a big groan, but I hear the satisfaction in it. “Like that, you mean? You little scrubber? That what you want?” “Yes!” she hisses. “Like that! Mark me!” “There goin to be some boyfriend all jealous when he sees your arse covered in stripes?” “What if there is? Just do it! Ouch!” I don’t need any written invitation. And as I smack her arse, I feel my prick gettin fat and hard. Achin for her sticky minge. A relief, wi this much booze on board. I stop to feel her up. Nae doubt, she’s even wetter. Her hips are movin in fine ‘fuck me’ style. “Oh, yer a sweet little slut, Judy lass, eh?” I tell her. “Just cryin oot for a shag. And how’d ye want it?” “In my asshole!” she groans. “Your cunt first, ye dirty girl. But a few more. Until ye come, eh?” “Yes!” she says, her voice crackin. “Yes!” She’s wheezin and gaspin, and lets out this big squealin sound as I smack her another half-dozen times, really lettin go. Comes, nae doubt about it. An as she does, I slip my middle finger right in her arse, makin her even more spastic, floppin around, beggin me for more. I lift her up – she weighs next tae nothin, a local girl wi a bum this big, she’d brack yer back liftin her up – and drop her on the bed, face down. “Time tae get serious. Tie ye doon, now?” “How?” she groans. I handcuff her wrists to the head of the bed. Years of practice. Then find some scarves in her suitcase, and spread her legs wide as I can before tiein them down neatly too. I sit meself down next to her, stroke her bruised bum. Feel between her legs, pokin around. I put my finger in her arsehole, an wriggle it around. “Och, yer tight, Judy. Nae been gettin enough o that, I see.” She says: “Do you always do that with women?” “Ones that like it, and some that don’t, aye.” “The one you found tied up?” “Oh aye. How could I not? Her bum in the air, showin it off, like. Fucked her arse n all. Nae just an English fitba team, ye ken. An I’ll be fookin yern too, Judy. Aye, hope ye’ll be friendly like. Relax and help me in, eh?” She’s blushin, but knows to say: “Yes, I will, I promise.” “Ye need your arse reamed oot, lass. Just as much as this sticky cunnie needs a good long shaggin.” I’m slidin mah hand down, pullin her fanny lips open, tweakin her, pushin fingers in her hole. “Disgustin mess, this,” I tells her. “So why’d ye shave it? To be more like a little gal for some fella?” “Yes, partly. So it looked, well, more sexy. I like to sit in front of a mirror and play with it.” “Aye, I could tell ye were that kind of girl. You play wi it every day?” “Yes,” she gasps. “Good! Then you won’t mind doin it for me later, lettin me get some photos in, like?” She groans, but what she means is ‘yes, do it.’ “Do you like it?” she asks, all anxious. “Oh, it’s awright. I got nae problem wi hairy quims either. I’ll sup on yours in a wee while, n let ye know how it compares.” “Please? Will you? I really need that!” “Try stoppin me, eh? I love the taste of a good sticky twat, me. Now, where’s your knickers? Ah, here we go. Open your gob, love. That’s right. Let’s put them in. We don’t want ye makin any big fuss now, do we?” She sniffs her drawers as I offer them, then swallows them in wi’out a word of protest. “Like the taste of pussy, do ye?” I ask, seein the answer writ all over her face. “So dae I,” I says. “An I hope ye likes to suck on a prick too?” She nods eagerly. “Good. Well, we got all day now, havenae we? You isnae goin nowhere, is you Judy?” She shakes her head, a little doubt in her eye. “So I can take me time now, shaggin and spankin ye, just the way we both like it. Interrogate ye, make ye tell me all yuz dirty secrets. That’ll be good, eh?” She’s blushin. Oh, she likes this, a lot. “Now, did ay tell ye all the story about the daft slut, the one we found tied up? I don’t believe ay did. Well, see, she was havin such a good time, it seemed a shame to spoil it like…” I grin and slap Judy’s ass, nice and hard. “So, we kept her there a while. My partner, he needed to relax a bit. Twitchy bastard, he were. So I let him have a poke at her too. An a few other polis that came by. Aye. Don’t look so shocked. What else could we do? She was tae much for me on me own. An she were havin a rare old time. Put a blindfold on her, so she wouldnae have anythin to say about who’d been pokin her, if she came to change her mind, like. Afterwards, we got up a wee collection for her. Gratitude. But there was some fellas that was disappointed we didn’t keep her a while longer. They wanted to see her lick out a few women. You know fellas, they love that lezbo stuff.” Judy is turnin red, and her eyes are flashin angrily at me. “Oh, are ye thinkin I might do that wi you, Judy? Nae, I don’t think so. Unless you prove way too much for me. But a wee yin like you? I think I can handle you just fine. I see you need a lot of punishin though. I think I’ll hafta take that strap to yer tits and pussy later. Oh, look at you wrigglin! You love that idea don’t ye?” I start strokin her pussy, an say: “We can make this very sore, can’t we? May give a call to a wee girl I know. A scrubber. She’ll do anythin I ask. Fancy seein you lick her out, Judy. Seein ye wi cunt slobber all over that pretty face. You’ll do that for me, woncha love?” She nods, and I laugh aloud. “What I always say. Women, dykes every one a them. Ye like the idea of bein humiliated, eh? Is suckin on a teenage prostitute’s twat a good one? Well, I won’t disappoint yez. An ye’ll get tae show this boyfriend – or girlfriend, is it maybe? – of yourn some nice marks.” I pull the knickers oot of her mouth, tellin her: “Nae screamin or makin a fuss, now.” “Oh, you really are a bastard!” “Proud tae say I am, Judy. So, I’m right aboot the girlfriend, ah kin tell. From the face ye pulled when you smelled them dirty drawers. So, is she a pretty wee piece like yez, or some big bulldyke who fucks you wi a dildo?” “She’s more butch than me, but she’s quite pretty. It’s a New York thing. Professional women. Lipstick lezzies, they call us.” “Oh aye, I know the type. Wee college girls here move tae that phase when they start lookin fer a job.” I’m strokin her pussy, gettin my fingers as sticky as stirrin a pot of treacle. “But ye likes to fuck too, heh?” “Yes, come on. Get on me. I’m ready!” she splutters. So am I. My pole is nicely greased. Won’t need tae shove it in her gob. I straddle her, and slide home. Like a piece of greasy mutton on a kebab skewer. Nice squelchy sound, and a big tremble from her as I ram it home. “Easy does it, lass,” I whisper in her ear, nibblin on the lobe. “Nae rush. Let’s see how passionate ye get, eh? May put ye in the mood for some more smackin, like as not. Now, tell me all about the bitch, and what you gets up tae with her. Tell it dirty. D’ye lick each others fannies?” Judy is movin under me, and gasps: “We do everything. Everything!” “So ye’ve licked her wee arsehole, as well as her cunnie?” “Yes! And she’s done mine.” “And d’ye fingerfuck, or have ye got a dildo?” “Both. And she likes to put her fist inside me,” she confesses. “Oh, ye seem too tight fer that. Big cunted girl, are ye?” “If it’s done right, it doesn’t hurt so much,” she grunts. “If I squat, and really concentrate.” “Aye? Squattin? I like the sound of that. Love tae see a lass really showin off her twat. Well, when my slutty friend gets here, we’ll haftae let you show her how to do you, won’t we?” “Is she really a prostitute?” Judy groans. “No really. Jest a wee tart who likes to be paid for fookin.” “How do you know her?” “Oh, we picked her up one day, in a sweep through a pub. She were sittin there dressed as a schoolgirl, drinkin. So we took her in on suspicion, like. Some female uniforms got to search her, an one a yin, a friend o mine like, comes out and says ‘Schoolgirl? Underage drinkin? Get a grip, man! She’s a prozzy, near as damn it. Virgin? Scrubber, more like it. Ye could park a bus up her cunt, she’s been had sae much.’ I start laughin, of course. So she sneaks me in tae the room when they finish strippin her.” “Oh, my god! Do you end up fucking all the women you arrest?” she sobs. “Only the pretty ones, Judy. We draw the line at real cows.” “Did she expect to be fucked?” “I think so,” I laugh. “She’s sittin on this table, touchin her tits, playin wi her fanny, when I come in. Stark naked, doesna cover up at all. Straight off, she offers me a blow job, if I’ll let her go, nae reports or nothin. Well, who’d refuse? Worked for me, that. An I been seein her every now an then since. Brucie’s version o probation, like.” “How old is she really?” Judy asks. “Oh, she tells her johns she’s fourteen or so. Turns em on rotten, that. But she’s nearly seventeen. Quite legal here.” “Oh, god.” “Wi a really dirty mind, though. She’ll have a rare old time wi you, you dirty girl. Lots of socialism in Scotland still, ye ken. She’ll get a real thrill oot of havin some rich dikey slut tae boss aroond. Won’t be nae trouble to get her to rough ye up, beat yer arse. Piss on ye, maybe.” Judy’s pantin with excitement, and I slow mah pumpin down. “Oh, this is so degrading!” she groans. “That’s right. Tha’s why ye like it, ya wee whoor…oh, lots of punishments and humiliation for ye today, Judy. Things you won’t be able to tell anyone wi’out blushin like a silly wee virgin. An ye wouldna have it any other way. Admit it!” “Yes,” she groans, startin to come. I feel her cunt spasticatin like a blind man’s hand grabbin at a bar of soap. “Yes!” She’s archin her back, and the sweat is beginnin to pour off her. I keep mounted, and wait for her to stop buckin around. Then I reach over for the phone, and carefully dial. “Hello? Claire? Ya busy, sweetheart? Who? It’s Brucie, ya daft wee twat! Aye, I’m oot of breath, cos I’m shaggin some snotty American bitch. Nae, hold on! Nae a whoor. It’s not competition. She’s just some trollop I been showin the sights, like. Came on all nesty, wantin to be spanked and such. Turns her on somethin rotten. Aye, like a fish shop. Guess what? You can’t? Well, she’s taken a fancy tae playin wi some other lass, to amuse me. Dyke or bisexual, I don’t know for sure. Yes, it is. Are ye interested in a wee bit o fun? Oh, good! We’re at the Shearaton. Very posh, aye. Here, have a word wi her. Her name’s Judy. She’ll tell ye the room number an all.” I shove the phone in Judy’s hand. “Yeah, that’s really my name. Stern. Yes, it does sound like a domme name, right. No, I’m not. Uh huh. Yes. Yes, he told me. I think so. Well, I mean yes, then. Will she get paid?” she turns to me. “Aye, you’re payin her,” I reply. “I’m paying,” Judy says, voice all flat. “How much? Okay. What does he want? Well, to see me lick you, I know that. Other stuff, it’s up to him. Or you.” I can hear muffled laughter at the other end. She passes the phone back tae me, sayin: “She wants you.” Claire is gigglin like an old auntie after four glasses of cheap sherry. “Brucie! You old pervert!” “Well? Ya comin oer or nae?” “Course I am. Just got to find a few clathes, get me bus money.” “Stepdad can’t gie ye a lift?” “He’s passed oot in front of the telly. Pissed as a rat. Got the unemployment money today, like.” “Take a cab, we’ll gie ye the money back.” “Nae expense spared, eh?” she chuckles. “No for this slut! Aye, and remember, wear a coat oer whatever ye dress up in, so the hotel goons dinna hae a fit.” “Oh, I will. Slutty or schoolgirl?” “Slutty. An get yeself in the mood to be a real nasty bitch. She wants tae be mistreated.” “Oh, tha’s easy as pie. I’m lookin forward tae it. Are you fookin her still?” “Aye.” “Well, dinna come in her, awright? Get her good an juicy, frustrate her real good. Oh, shall I bring me wee whip, the cat ‘o’ nine tails thing?” “Yes, I meant tae remind ye. She’ll be wankin at the thought o’ that, when I tell her.” “I’ll be there, in like, a hour?” “Nae rush. She’s tied doon. Not goin anywhere, luv.” I hang up. And tease Judy wi some more juicy details. The cat. How wet and sticky Claire gets. How infrequently she takes a bath at this schemie dive she lives in. The thrashin she’s goin to get. An all the while, she’s moanin and pleadin wi me: “Please! Yes! I’ll do whatever you want.” When Claire arrives, she’s done me proud. A black plastic raincoat, some long boots. An under it, a sexy wee black bra, an a pair o drawers sae wet ye could wring em oot. She’s got a wee bag, wi her whip, a big dildo, an a few other gadgets. She sees Judy, tied tae bed, an starts laffin oot loud. “Oh ye daft bitch, what got intae ye? Apart from our Brucie?” Starts strokin her arse, and mocks: “Look at the size a your bum! Like a horse! Ha, you shaved your crack. I’ll have to hae a good look at that, eh?” Claire takes off her bra, and fiddles wi her big broon nipples. Then she wriggles outa her knickers, and holds em over Judy’s face. “Get a whiff o that, then. Wankin all the way here, I was. Thought the cabbie wuid swerve off the road, like. What wi the smell n aw. D’ye like it, lassie?” Judy’s noddin, eyes glazed. “Lezzie fae sure, then. Well, if ye likes the pong, ye’ll love the taste. Oh, I’m real cunty today. Drippin. An ye get no choice. I want yer tongue right up me fookhole, even if it droons ye.” She’s fiddlin between Judy’s legs, jes like I did. So, forget that line aboot nivver look a gift whoor in the cunnie. Ye canna resist. “Think ye can be nasty wi her?” “Oh, Brucie, ye bet I will. Ye said she needs punishin n aw? Well, let’s get tae it.”

Three hours later, Judy’s dreams have all come true. We’ve shagged her, spanked her, whipped her arse and tits. Tied her up wi her legs over her head and gone to town on her pussy wi a belt and the cat. Lots of stripes an welts, her bum one big bruise. She’s had my cock in her gob, and Claire’s had her lickin like a cat. Oh what a filthy stinky mess she is now! Standin, her wrists tied behind her neck. Sore, her hair all bedraggled and snotty wi fanny lotion. But still game fi more. A long slow shag, wi me cock in her bum and Claire crouchin down, shovin her tiny fist in her cunt, until she can’t speak clearly any more. Claire’s mockin her: “Aye, look at ye now. Nae so grand. Like the dirtiest schemie fuckbag whoor, ye slutty cunt. Crawlin round social club on your knees, suckin off the grandads for a sip o their Tennants.” Judy groans: “I should be ashamed of myself.” “Good!” Claire laughs. “Well, whatever ye think, ye filthy shagger. Now, come for us. Right now.” Judy’s good for that, I’ll tell ye. She’s gruntin an gaspin, eager for everythin we can do. She sae loud, we hafta clap our hands oer her mooth. After, we take a few puffs each on a joint, swill some beer from the minibar, and fall asleep in a heap. As she nods off, I say tae her: “So, gettin a feel for the local culture now, lass?” “God, yes,” she says wearily, her mouth all puffy. Claire has to leave, she has regular customers tae meet. An I decide I’ll sneak away soon after, down the lodge for a couple of beers, and then a curry. First though, I tie Judy tightly tae the bed. On her back, open wide. She’s lookin at me, all gooey-eyed. “I’ll be back for more, make no mistake,” I tell her. “Yes. Please, don’t be long. I need some more. Once I start, I can’t get enough,” she’s moanin. “Yer a rare find eh, lass? A lezzie nympho painslut. Oh, I’ll be back, never you mind. Bring ye some takeoot Chinese maybe?” I grab a key, let meself out. At the lodge, I runs intae a pair o drug squad layabouts. One says tae me: “So, where’s the community relations girl, eh? Wee Judy, yer American newspaper tart?” “Takin a wee nap. Had a coupla drinks tae many, I think.” The other, a smarmy English prick says: “Folks here are saying she’s undercover. An agent with DEA or one of them agencies.” “Oh, aye? Coulda fooled me. But I’m just your average homicide flatfoot, you know. Nae sophistication.” “Well, ye niver can be sure,” says the first one, dribblin beer all over hisself. “Aye, it’s a funny old world,” I agree, turning back to watch the telly. I’m gone mebbe two hours. When I get back, she’s snoring like a walrus. I search through her handbag. Nothing much, just a few cards an such. Nae secret IDs or giveaways. And do I care? Anyone should be worried, it’s the lazy buggers on drugs. The do-nothin gang. I get undressed then wake her up, nice an gentle, wi a wee tickle to her cunt lips wi me tongue. She’s juicy, an starts moaning as she awakes. I gets her hot, then start kissin her. Her face is all sticky wi Claire. “Bruce? Will you come to London with me? Please?” “I though ye was going tae Manchester?” “Yes. Tomorrow. But that’s just a day. I’ll be in London nearly a week.” “Oh, and ye won’t find some horny bobby there tae stoke yer furnace?” I mock. “Please? Bruce?” I kiss her again, wriggle a couple of fingers intae her cunt. It’s pulsin enough tae break em off. “Awright. I need tae fiddle wi me schedule. Caseload n aw. But I might, aye. Canna promise ye any sexy double acts, ye ken? Just me an me prong. Oh, an as much rough stuff as ye like. Can ye stand that?” “So long as you’re there, yes, baby.” “Then ah think we have an understanding, lass. Jes tell me where ye’ll be, later. But now, I think ye need a good shaggin, am I right?” “Oh, god, yes.” “Now, tell me truthfully, what did ye like best?” I’m beginnin to fingerfuck her again, an I have me other hand on her right tit, squeezing her nipple. Judy is tremblin, an she rambles: “Oh, all of it. Being naked for both of you. Open wide. Tied up. Having my ass whipped.” “Aye, that made ye really frantic. An wha else?” “The way you fucked me. As though I was just a whore.” “I dinna think that about ye, but it’s how ye like tae be treated, eh?” “God, yes.” “An wha about wee Claire? Oh, ye were slurping away at her cunny, weren’t you?” “How could I help myself? I had to, or I’d have drowned, when she was sitting on my face. It was disgusting.” “Ye were enjoying it too much to say that, lass,” I observe, my cock stiffenin up nicely now. I like her like this, ashamed, blushin, rememberin how crazy she went. “But anyone who saw ye now, would say it’s you that’s the smelly whore, not her. Covered in cum n cuntjuice, ye are.” She shivers as I straddle her, and slide my pole into her cunt. Lots of squelchin and groans frae her. “Nae feelin sae lezzie today, eh?” I mock. “There’s few women who can resist a good stiff prick. Fook some sense intae ye. But ye liked wee Claire, eh? When she got rough wi ye?” Judy gasps: “Yes. When she slapped my tits. Oh god.” That had been fun, I admit. She were sitting on my lap, impaled wi me prick in her bumhole, and facin Claire, who took a fancy to holding each tit in one hand and slappin it wi the other. Nae messin, either. Really slappin her hard. Spiteful, girls can be. Stoppin every while to pinch her nipples, or grab her clit and torment it a bit. Both knockers’re still nicely marked and red, I see, as I run me tongue frae her nipple to her neck an gi her a good bite. “An I niver thought yer fanny lips would stretch so much, lass.” “She was vicious,” Judy splutters. “I thought you were just going to spank my pussy, not do all that other stuff with clamps.” “‘Twas her idea, lass. Don’t gae blamin me. Young girls think fer theyself too. Cruel, they can be. I blames the TV, meself. An she certainly got yer number, eh? You completely lost it when she started in on you there. So don’t knock it. Ye ken, if she were still here, ye’d be licking her bum, callin her the Queen o Scots, an asking her tae do it again. Beggin her tae piss on ye, and take that whip o hern tae ye minge. Ye wouldna hae it any other way…cruel, tha’s wha ye like. Ye wanted her tae torture ye, an she did.” She’s near it again. “I should be ashamed of myself. I’m a slut!” she groans. “A slut, a whore, a cunt, a scrubber. A big-arsed, big-titted cow who likes it rough. One a they girls who gits into bein a slave fer some fella.” “Yes, yes…” she’s splutterin. “A slave, oh jesus.” I tells her: “Och, ye’re so dirty Judy. Just like some sticky sweet some bairn spat oot. An smelly wi it. I thinks we need to do what the female uniforms do wi a real slutty woomun when they brings ayn in. Drunks n prozzies, they gets the treatment.” “What?” she gasps. “Dikey bunch the lot o em. They strips her, then they drags her intae the bathroom. Guid hot bath an a freezin shower, wi scrubbin brushes an a bottlebrush fer her coont.” Judy’s shuddering, twitching at this idea. “No!!” she squeaks. Total fascination, though. “I could run ye in tae the station an gives ye to them, but I dinna wants to share nae mair. But, I decided. It’s a guid scrub for you, me lass.” “Yes!” she croaks, archin her back, lifting me up. “Then another spankin, aye? Over me lap. Nice long spankin for a dirty wee girl.”

A night of delights, aye it was. And at dawn a tearful goodbye, summat I’m nae sae good at. Like all daft girls tha’s had a good bonkin, she says ‘I love you’. But the weird thing is, I think she means it. An I see how she could really mean it. I’ll see her in a couple of days, I promise. As I head out, lookin for breakfast, I’m thinkin about Judy, all the way. Strange, this. For me, anyway. Nae such a bad lass, that one. I’d done the Met, I’d been in the Australian force. Not doin so well here. Maybe this wee tart could get me an introduction to like, the FBI? I mean, law enforcement is the same the world over – plus or minus a bit of torture or gunplay, if ye ken what I mean? I can frame fellas, plant evidence wi best of them. Maybe, eh? Career opportunities, an a promise of a wee bit o fluff, too.