I was still a little wobbly after my post-lunch ‘lie down’ with Mel and Pixie. But, despite the state of my legs, I whispered to myself, “Lead us not into temptation,” and slipped out of their arms, knowing that Miss Sinn expected her will to be done and would not forgive us our trespasses if we three didn’t focus on the new case.
Mel and Pixie could scour the Internet from home, but I needed to be the out and about, an old fashioned gumshoe detective. Figuratively not literally I hasten to add, there was no way I was being seen outside in anything less than fashionable heels.
My first port of call was my escort friend Gaynor who had, by specialising in a bit of rough stuff with posh bitches, contributed to us solving the Wages of Sinn case. When I arrived at her place, she and her flatmate who turned out to be a Russian called Irena were getting ready for what Gaynor called their thousand pound double date.
I showed Gaynor the photo Commissioner Dick had given us of the twins loitering in front of the National Gallery. She stared and stared and then said, “Hey Irena aren’t these two from that Russian family. They are called something stupid like the Nic Nak twins.”
Irena finished putting her eye-shadow on and came over and quickly looked at the photo. Then she exhaled and said, “They are weird, dangerous weird. Why the fuck do you want to know about them, Annie.”
“Just a case we have at the Agency I work for.”
“Drop it,” Irena said, “Nic and Nak are weird in a harmless way. I have fucked them and was well remunerated. Actually, it is more accurate to say I fucked little Miss Heels and the baby one watched holding her teddy bear in one hand and fingering her cunt with the other.”
“MissHeels and baby?” I asked.
“Yeah they are twins but different, Nic lives for fashion and has a shoe fetish as far as I can tell. And Nak has well a different kind of fetish. God, as she watched Nic and me fuck she was sucking a dummy.”
To be honest, I felt an immediate affinity with Nic, if her only vice was heels, then she so could not be called weird.
“That doesn’t seem dangerous weird,” I observed.
Irena just stared at me, “Fuck no, I am not saying anymore. Their sisters wouldn’t think twice about killing me. They were even angry at Nic for fucking me. I am apparently not classy enough, Stella McCartney is Top Shop in their eyes. And I hadn’t been vetted for the Wonderland Club whatever the fuck that is.”
“Do you know the sisters’ names?” I asked.
Irena actually looked a little frightened, and said, “Look Gaynor and I have a date, and we have to leave. Honestly, Annie, I think you are better dropping this. This is new Russian money and those bitches gave me the instant impression they don’t let anyone fuck with them, literally or figuratively.”
I could see I was going to get no further with Irena, so I said my goodbyes and Gaynor showed me to the door. As she hugged me, she whispered, “The older two sisters names can be shortened like Nic Nak, and when you do shorten their names think chocolate bar.”
And with that Delphic clue, I was heading for the tube to go home when I passed a Sainsbury’s. Thinking about chocolate bars, I walked inside and stared at the confectionery. Mars Bars obviously wouldn’t cut it. Curly Wurly was a stretch but was it just possible.
And then on the next shelf, I saw a chocolate bar and just knew it was the likely answer to Gaynor’s riddle. These were Russians after all and my guess, which turned out to be right, was that one of the older sisters was named Katrina which was one half of the Kit Kat chocolate bar.
Consulting Google I discovered that Kit could indeed be an abbreviation for Katherine, though to my ears Kat made more sense for that as well. But I guess you can’t have two names in the family that shorten to the same abbreviation.
I paid for three Kit Kats and headed back to Pixie’s place only to find that, rather than working, Pixie and Mel were snuggled up on the couch with Bruno, watching a replay, I kid you not, a fucking replay of the Royal Wedding. And Pixie had her scrapbooks open on the coffee table in front of them.
Now, of course, there will be those of you who are puzzled as to why two lesbians found Bruno an appropriate snuggling companion. And indeed I had the additional concern that he was taking up the space on the couch that MissAnnie thought was hers and hers alone.
But Mel had been emphatic, she wasn’t living without Bruno, and Pixie and I would just have to put up with it. My question really was how she had got a teddy bear of that size from Canada to the UK without paying for its own plane ticket. That and having to live out a nursery rhyme on our first night in Pixie’s king sized bed when there were four in the bed, and the little one said roll over and Pixie and then Mel and then Bruno rolled over, and I fell out of bed.
But it turned out that was a small price to pay for living with Bruno, for the bear was to be a key to unlocking the riddle of the Kit-Kat bursa escort Nic-Nac sisters. I hit the pause button on the Royal Wedding replay, and Pixie’s disappointment at not seeing more of Kate Middleton’s arse was partly eased by the chocolate bars I offered her and Mel.
“How did you get on, baby? Pixie and I made a breakthrough,” Mel said excitedly.
“I did as well, found out the names of the older sisters,” adding with a giggle, “In fact, you are eating them.”
Pixie looked at me strangely, and observed, “If you can’t yet tell the difference between chocolate and pussy Annie, then and I have two tasty pussies available to remind you.”
“I might just take you up on that, after I have debriefed you,” I replied.
And like synchronized swimmers, in one perfect motion, Mel and Pixie slipped their hands into their skirts and slid their knickers to the floor.
“There baby,” Pixie said with the cutest giggle, “We debriefed ourselves. Let me hold your chocolate, you can finish it after you have tasted pussy to remind you that while pussy tastes divine, it isn’t chocolate.”
So my devotion to Sinn was interrupted, as I slipped to my knees and inhaled the incense like aroma of Mel’s cunt, before worshipping her sex. Running my tongue through the folds of her pussy, I heard her moan though that was cut off by Pixie kissing her. With Pixie kissing her and fondling her breasts, and me pushing two fingers into Mel’s cunt as my mouth latched onto her clit, we soon had Mel on the edge.
And when Mel came as loudly and wetly as I had expected. I should add, the high tide that flowed from Mel’s cunt so to speak was about to be exceeded by a spring tide.
“Oh that was so good, baby,” Mel whispered once she had recovered her breath, “but sorry baby, the chocolate melted in the excitement.”
Which is how I came to be licking chocolate off Mel’s hand which Pixie described as one of the most erotic things she had seen.
Having finally finished licking both ‘s cunt and fingers and having confirmed to her satisfaction that I could taste the difference between chocolate and cunt, Mel said, “You know how Pixie isn’t allowed to cum until Friday baby.”
“Yes,” I said as I licked the last chocolate from Mel’s pinkie.
“Well, she has been watching the Royal Wedding and looking at her scrapbooks. Kind of whimpering like a baby. I think we should make an exemption tonight and let her cum.”
And when I lowered my mouth to Pixie’s cunt as Mel’s hands slipped into her blouse to fondle her titlets, I discovered something. Pixie was sopping wet, so wet that were jealousy a factor in our relationship, I would be green with envy about the Cumbridge princess.
But no I was just delighted, as I licked and drank from Pixie, to know that something massive was about to crash over her. Which was accelerated and strengthened by whispering, as I licked and fingered her, “Baby imagine it is Princess Kate licking you.”
And with a scream of joy Pixie flooded my face, pushing her hips into me as a massive orgasm rumbled through her.
There was no chance for my lovers to immediately return the favour as Pixie’s phone rang. It was Miss Sinn demanding an update. I had to sit in wet knickers, with Pixie on my knee as Bruno couldn’t be fucking disturbed. I snuggled in as Pixie put her phone on speaker and we explained what we had been doing since lunch, except that is for the sex which shortened our discussion by about half.
Miss Sinn heard from me about Kit Kat and that the older sisters were considered dangerous new money Russians. She was interested in the club called Wonderland and took it upon herself to make further enquiries. Pixie explained that Nik Nac kept a very low social media profile, but that had made a significant breakthrough.
“You know Windsor Castle, Miss Sinn?” she asked.
“I may be American, but I am not stupid,” Miss Sinn replied.
The look Pixie shot us said don’t go there, and so continued, “Well there is a lovely doll’s house there.
Oh God, I thought who could ever forget the doll’s house. Pixie and I had taken the train to Windsor a couple of Saturdays ago. And while Pixie the ghoul spent time in the crypt, making notes about the dead kings and queens for future stories as she informed us, Mel dragged me to see the doll’s house.
The dragging stopped as soon as we got inside as dawdled gazing in awe at every miniature figure and piece of furniture. After what seemed like an eternity punctuated by Mel’s cries of delight and comments like, “Oh Annie look at this,” we found ourselves at the exit.
We happily signed the Friends of the Dolls House form and contributed twenty pounds, and we caught up with Pixie who was sitting outside making notes for a forthcoming tale or something.
My memory of that day was interrupted by continuing, “The Dolls House has its major donors listed online, and there is a Natasha xxxxx listed. I think that is who we are looking for as the web entry mentions Nic Nak.”
“Well bursa escort bayan done,” Miss Sinn said, “And I assume knowing their surname hasn’t helped you with social media.”
“No,” replied, “Pixie hasn’t found anything, but I have a cunning plan. Tomorrow is the open day for major donors of the doll’s house. If we pay a thousand pounds, we can become major donors, and I can go and see it and maybe I can meet Nak and even Nic.”
“A thousand pounds,” Miss Sinn almost screamed down the phone, “You must be mad. Just think what you can get for a thousand pounds.”
“Indeed,” I added, “A threesome tonight with Gaynor and Irena.”
“Exactly,” she continued, clearly, and surprisingly, viewing my intervention as helpful.
“One night of pleasure is all you have to give up. Like you said Miss Sinn it is the lesbian business model. We invest in a little marketing, bait the line, and reap the reward when we hook the fish.”
“Only if she is fucking swimming at Windsor tomorrow,” Miss Sinn sensibly added.
“Then we claim it on expenses and it is the Police who have contributed to the Dolls House, but we still get the benefit of feeling good about doing something worthwhile.
Upgrade to remove adverts
God only knows the investment I had made in sucking up to Miss Sinn was also about to pay off. Miss Sinn agreed, and the contribution was paid and Mel received an invitation to the open day the next afternoon.
That invitation included a plus one, and , having softened me up by insisting Bruno sleep in a chair and not in the bed and then, with Pixie’s help, bringing me to a very satisfying orgasm that night, Mel whispered as we fell asleep, “Annie can you be my plus one tomorrow at the Dolls House?”
I was okay with the idea of being the plus one at first. I spent a lot of time thinking about what to wear. But as soon as Mel consulted a Japanese fashion magazine online, we came up with the perfect look for her. Pull up stocking, short pleated skirt, and baby doll blouse gave her the look of someone who regretted being forced to leave her teens.
I, of course, knew of Nak’s liking for fashion so had my best dress on and the heels I had got from Selfridges. But the joy of slipping into something fashionable was short lived, not lasting past Mel’s remark as we were about to leave, “Baby I think Bruno should come with us.”
The debate, well it hardly could be called a debate as I couldn’t get a word in edge-ways, didn’t last long. Which is why I found myself stepping on to the train well dressed and accessorized with a large teddy bear, while Mel sorted out coffee for us.
There were some looks from the other passengers, I can tell you, but an amazing thing happened when Mel and I arrived at the Dolls House donor’s open day. Mel skipped ahead as we went through the door, leaving me holding the bear so to speak.
I immediately locked eyes with a woman across the other side of the room.
A woman of around twenty, even more elegantly dressed than me and also holding a large fucking teddy bear. And the arch of our eyebrows when we saw each other communicated a shared, oh my fucking God, what are we doing standing here holding a fucking teddy bear.
And that was how I met Nic xxxxx the third and most fashionable of the late Mr. xxxxx’s four daughters. Bruno had broken through and Nik and I, plus Bruno and Boris the teddy bears, were soon in conversation.
Of course, I was subtle and to begin with, we focused on fashion and shoes in particular. It appeared she also liked to shoe shop at Selfridges which, given it wasn’t London’s most exclusive shoe store, left me with the impression she too enjoyed Oli’s after sales service.
Nak and Mel saw us two, and the bears, of course, talking. It drew them to us like moths to the flame. I was startlingly impressed by the way Mel lowered her IQ and the age at which she behaved and, started chatting to Nak about teddy bears, dolls houses, toys and especially fucking teddy bears.
Nak, who was dressed like a final year school girl whose daddy could afford the expensive clothes but who wore them in a way that would have convinced the Head that she wasn’t prefect material, was enchanted. And she and Mel were soon skipping off, hand in hand, to inspect some doll or whatever.
I then learnt about Nic’s expensive and comprehensive shoe collection for which I didn’t have to feign enthusiasm, genuinely telling her, “I would so love to see them. I adore shoes.”
“I have a large closet full of them which my sisters call the Imelda Marcos closet.”
I got the joke and said, “Thousands of shoes. I would so like to be in your closet.”
Nic giggled, “I think you would love it,” and then she added what I could only call a clarifying question, “Of course while my shoes are in the closet, I like my sisters am totally out.”
I just stared at her and smiled, whispering, “So are Mel and I. I see they have similar tastes.”
Having got that clear, bursa merkez escort and Nak finally returned giggling, still holding hands and the serious bit of the detective work began. “Nicci,” Nak said, “I so want Mel to come over and see my dolls. And she could bring her bear and her friend too. Please, pretty please.”
“That could be nice, Nak,” Nic responded, “Annie would love to see my shoes. But you know that Katrina doesn’t like visitors to the house.”
“But that is so silly, we have nothing to hide,” Nak petulantly said.
“You and I, maybe… You know that is why we have Wonderland as a place to entertain,” Nik replied.
“Oh,” said Mel, in full giggly blond acting mode, “Wonderland sounds so wonderful. So like Disneyland, do only princess get to go.”
Nothing could be this easy I thought, but I was wrong,
“Oh, it is,” Nak simpered, “Princesses like you and me. Can they come Nik, please pretty please.”
“You know that Katrina only lets vetted A-list lesbians in to play at Wonderland. and Annie is wonderful, but Kat would not approve.”
“But what about those three last weekend, they were fun and not A-list.”
“They came with Cara, baby. Kat always allows an A-list or super-model to bring her friends.”
And that as they say was a lock. If Kit-Kat had indeed stolen the painting, it would be in the house. But the Sinn girls couldn’t get there unless Kit-Kat saw a good reason to invite us. And they wouldn’t ask the Sinn girls to their house when they wouldn’t even invite us to Wonderland.
So when we went back to the Office and debriefed Miss Sinn and Pixie. I should make clear that unlike last night the debriefing left everyone’s knickers undisturbed. Miss Sinn had discovered, God knows how, the Mayfair address of Wonderland. It was she said an apartment converted into a series of playrooms.
But she was at a loss to know how one got invited. We helped her with that enquiry, and the four of us (well five if you count Bruno) were sitting, thinking caps on, wondering how we could swing an invite to Wonderland.
And just at that moment, the front door swung open, and Alice entered.
Alright, it wasn’t literally Alice, but it was a possible answer to getting into Wonderland. For it was Pixie’s friend Emm, the legendary Oscar winning actress.
Pixie leapt to her feet, and Emm arms went around her to draw Pixie to her ample bosom. Unfortunately, Emm was wearing heels, delightfully expensive ones I might add, and the petite Pixie was in flats. So rather than her head being drawn into Emm’s soft tits, it ended up pressed against her much firmer abs.
“Nice to see you, tiny tits,” Emm gushed. “How’s my favourite midget? And who’s this gorgeous girl here?” She was looking at Mel.
“I’m Mel, and I speak for myself. You must be Emm?”
Emm clearly liked the direct challenge, as a flush came to her cheeks.
“My, well aren’t you the feisty one?”
“It’s been said,” Mel responded. “Pixie, out of there.”
She picked Pixie up, much to her delight.
“Emm, do you know the Kit Kat sisters?”
“Of course, darling, they are divinely decadent and good friends of my Mistress, Ekaterina. In fact, I have an invitation to their Wonderland next weekend, why do you ask?”
My heart almost stopped. I looked at Miss Sinn, Mel and Pixie: “Emm, we need to get in there. We know Nic and Nak, and if you could swing an invitation for us, that would be good.”
“Dahling, no problem. Wait a moment.”
Imperiously she dialled the number.
“Yes, that’s right, they met Nic and Nak at Windsor, yes, yes, that’s right, the Little and the sexy Aussie, yes, yes, that’s them. How marvellous that they happen to be my chums, yes, they are lovely, and yes, I think Nic and Nak should be happy. I’d love to bring one of my girlfriends, but as she has a little subby, that might add rather to your numbers. No? Hey, well, it is settled then, see you Friday afternoon. I’ll get my PA to send the names.”
She beamed at us.
“That bitches, is how it’s done!”
We all agreed that Emm had merited her moment of triumph.
“So,” said the ever-practical Pixie, “the plan, now.”
We brain-stormed it.
Miss Sinn made the brilliant suggestion that she should go as Emm’s girl-friend, slapping her arse and telling her to be a good girl. Emm’s eyes glazed with pleasure. I insisted I’d need a new, high-end outfit, and Louboutin heels, it was essential I look as classy as possible.
“But darling,” murmured Pixie, “you always look classy, and that’s because you are.”
Bless her, I leaned over and kissed her.
“Get a fucking room,” growled Miss Sinn, spoiling the effect by giggling.
“I may be able to help with Mel,” Emm grinned.
Mel looked sharply at her.
“It’s just that when Ekaterina comes to town, she liked a bit of uniform play, and I have a very up-marked sixth-former’s outfit which would, I think, suit Mel.”
“And I could take Bruno too.”
We explained to Emm who Bruno was, which made her laugh.
Miss Sinn told Emm she would “make it worth your while,” and we assumed that when the two of them departed together, that was something to do with it. To judge by Miss Sinn’s yawns the following day it had been a great night – and more.