Big Busts free porn video

BIG BUSTS ? by: Marianne Nettes CHAPTER 1 - BIG, BLACK AND BEAUTIFUL Tony Phillips woke up feeling as if a brand new world had just started. He struggled to sit upright in the bed, a childish grin breaking out on his face as he stared over towards the dressing table. The woman smiling back at him in the mirror was fantastic - big, black and beautiful, and naked from the waist up, her lower half obscured by a white drape across her midriff. There were a number of brightly coloured dresses hanging in the open wardrobe, but the simple white dress with the deep cleavage, which she had worn last night was still lying on the floor where it had got strewn in the heat of the moment. God knows where his own clothes had ended up - at that moment, he couldn't have cared less, for life ahead was far too exciting to be bothered about a trivial detail like trousers. With a bit of luck, he wasn't going to need them for ages. He blew her a kiss, and the woman in the mirror returned it with an even bigger smile, her breasts giving a pleasant jiggle, as she moved. She said, 'I've finished in the bathroom, if you want to use it.' 'I think I'd rather lie here and wait for you to come back to bed.' 'Uh-uh. Sorry baby. Business calls - I have to go across the water and see the landlord about extending the lease; then on to my equipment supplier. It's almost nine am. Aren't you going in to your bank?' 'Nine! Hell, I must have slept like a log after you finished with me, whatever time that was.' They both smiled at shared memories. 'We could both play hooky,' Tony suggested. He didn't think he'd ever played hooky in his life, before, and here he was, suggesting that the two of them spend the day screwing. Disgraceful! 'Not for me. I've got too many things to do. You can stay here if you want, but you'll have to play with yourself. Sorry.' Tony shrugged, philosophically. There'd be other times. 'Shucks. I guess I'll have to take a shower and go into work, then.' 'OK.' She pulled some red knickers from a drawer and slipped them on. From the same drawer she took a red bra, and leaning forward, lowered those fabulous breasts into it, then fastened the clasp behind her back. She looked at him and gave a complicit smile as she said: 'Thanks for a great night, and thanks for organising the loan, as well.' 'We bank managers are here to serve our customers.' But never before in that way. Not with him, anyway. Since she was rapidly becoming respectably dressed - if the bright red dress she was slipping into could ever be classed as respectable - Tony decided he had better have a shower, and make his first efforts towards getting into work. He was actually singing in the bath (which he hadn't done since he was seventeen) when she popped her head round the door and announced she was going. 'How are you going to get there?' he asked. They had traveled in his car, last night. 'I'll hitch,' she said, and added with a grin: 'Hitch up my skirt. I'll soon get a lift that way.' Tony had a sudden pang of jealousy, that she should flaunt herself like that, but she had gone before he could offer her a lift. It wasn't too far to walk, anyway, and at that time of day it would probably take him as long to drive through the rush hour traffic. As it happened, Tony wasn't more than thirty minutes late, and he concocted some trivial excuse to satisfy his secretary, Val, and the band of female cashiers who mothered him like broody hens. Confessing to spending the previous night in bed with a female customer would probably have pleasantly surprised most of them. But if he'd told anyone that he'd spent it with that young, black sex-bomb who, yesterday afternoon, had walked into his branch of Barkwest Bank asking for a business loan, they would have been shocked to the core, and never again been able to look him in the eye. It was probably because of his middle-age and very respectability, that Val suggested that he, rather than his junior manager Nick Brown, should interview Ms Carmine Ross. Val had given Tony the excuse that Nick was running late with his previous appointment, but most likely she had taken one look at Carmine and decided she'd have Nick's trousers off him before they even got the office door closed. Carmine was twenty-three years old, big boned and tall - in her heels she loomed over Tony. She had a firm, confident grip as they shook hands, and Tony tried hard to look her in the eye, rather than down at the incredible cleavage revealed by that deep V-neck dress. The dress was white, and the contrast with her ebony coloured skin, made it impossible to conceal - probably deliberately so - that underneath that almost translucent gown she wore only white bra and tiny, white knickers. The skirt was made of material so light it had floated out as she walked towards him. On her feet she had white, high-heeled sandals, with thin straps which wound above her ankles. She would have looked completely at home in one of the discos on Seacombe's Sunset Strip - but in the bank, the appearance of Lucifer himself could not have more shocked Tony's staff. She looked at him, looking at her, and said with a directness which both surprised and delighted him: 'I guess I've kind of blown it with the dress, haven't I? I thought I'm going to come in here and knock 'em out, and er. . .' she gave him a little girl look, 'I guess I have.' He smiled. 'If you mean, "Have you totally traumatized all the female staff in my bank", then the answer is, "Probably". If on the other hand you mean, "Have you brightened up an otherwise dull afternoon, for one middle-aged bloke who is absolutely enthralled by the sight of a really pretty girl?" then the answer is definitely "You bet!".' Tony had never seen so many shiny white teeth as was displayed by her grin. She wrinkled her nose in a quite appealing way: 'Jeez. Thanks for making me feel OK. I felt like shit when I saw how your secretary looked at me, as though I was a tart on the game.' 'I apologise on behalf of the bank. She shouldn't have looked at you like that. Now, what can I do for you?' She wanted a business loan to start up a sculptor business in the old town. She'd been renting a shop for a few weeks, making busts for visiting tourists. She'd taken enough business to make her believe she could earn a living out of it, but she needed to take out a lease on the shop, and buy some better equipment. Could the bank lend her the money? To be honest, Tony wasn't over enthusiastic. The old town in Seacombe, originally based around the fishing port, had gone through one bad patch after another, after decades of over fishing had totally depleted the sea of life. Many British seaside towns were in the same position as Seacombe - they survived on day trippers, most of whom were more interested in the amount of alcohol they could consume, rather than a visit to a sculptor. 'Doesn't it take you a long time to make a bust of someone? Don't you have to charge a lot of money?' Another toothy grin, but this time with a knowing look in her eyes, as though she had expected him to ask that question, and had the answer ready. 'Simply ages.' A pause, for effect, then she added: '. . .if you do it the conventional way. But I use modern technology. A few digital photographs, which I feed into my computer, and I then produce a three dimensional digital image of the person. I've got a peripheral on the computer which cuts out the two halves of a cast for the bust. Pour in the moulding material, and bingo! Less than half an hour's work, and about one day elapsed time, and you have a perfect replica. I've been charging ?25 each, and they've been selling like hot cakes.' She produced a folder and clumsily withdrew a spreadsheet, which she passed across to him. 'I need to buy some better equipment, and materials, and take out a lease on the studio, but I've done a discounted cash flow which shows I'm well in profit, even if I only get one third of the trade I've been doing these last three weeks.' She blushed suddenly, as though embarrassed at airing words which she had not used before. Tony smiled back at her, keen to show she had not been talking rubbish. Unless, of course, it was all rubbish. Suppose she didn't have a shop with equipment to make busts - she was simply trying to con money out of the bank. It had done before, sometimes by people as appealing as Carmine - in fact, usually by people as appealing as Carmine. The spreadsheet looked as good as she had indicated. If she was telling the truth, he'd be happy to advance a loan. After all, she was hardly asking for a large amount, but. . . was she telling the truth, or was it a con? There were two ways of searching out that kind of problem - one was to look at the books, but with a business which had only been going for a few weeks, they were meaningless. A much better way was to visit the business at work, and make certain that everything stacked up with what she claimed. 'That sounds fascinating. If your figures are as good as this spreadsheet shows, I think we'll be able to arrange a loan, but the bank will need to visit your business and satisfy itself. When could we arrange that for?' 'The sooner, the better. You can come now, if you like.' Tony hesitated. Normally, he'd have sent Nick out on this kind of visit, but why should he have all the fun? He had no further appointments that afternoon. And a snap visit like this ensured there was no chance to prepare in advance. He made up his mind. 'Why not? I'll just go and tell my secretary where I'm going, and then we can drive out there.' When Tony told Val where he was off to, she replied: 'Can you hang on for a few minutes? I've sent Jean out for some extra strength condoms. She'll be back soon.' It was a measure of the trust that she had in him that made the joke possible. Had she the slightest suspicion of how things would turn out, she would never have dared to make such a comment. Tony declined her offer with a grin, and led Carmine out to the staff car park, using the passageway up the side of the bank. She gave a squeal of delight when she saw his company Jaguar. 'Sh-I-t! Is this really your car? It's fantastic. Do I get to ride up front, or does the little black girl have to get in the boot?' 'Nothing as luxurious as the boot, I'm afraid. You have to run behind.' Tony was shocked by his own words. They'd been meant as a joke, but taken the wrong way, they could have been deeply offensive, and if she made a complaint. . . He shuddered at the thought. Fortunately she was laughing, and telling him how terrified she had been at the thought of going into the bank and asking a load of stuffy, old, farts to part with such a huge amount of money. He breathed a sigh of relief and concentrated upon navigating the car through the start of the afternoon rush hour traffic, towards the bridge to the old town. Seacombe is in two parts, separated by the river. Barkwest Bank was in the new town, which although built on the steep sides of the river valley, had several straight and reasonably level main roads which ran along the contours. Unfortunately, this meant that all the roads and alleyways at right angles to them sloped steeply, and even in his smart new Jaguar, Tony always had a terror that his brakes would fail as he approached the river, and he would plunge into the cold water, and be immediately swept out to sea. As usual, Tony drove across the lift bridge, which joined the new and old towns, without incident. On the other side of the river, the old town was fairly flat, but with a maze of twisty little roads and passages housing tiny, fishermen's cottages, which had mostly been converted into bed and breakfast houses. Thirty years ago, when Tony had come to the town on holiday as a child, they'd been thriving, and gradually supplanting the fishing industry as the town's main source of income. Then the package holiday trade had taken off, and local holiday businesses had slumped, leaving many houses boarded up and derelict. He was pleased that Carmine directed him to the area of the old town closest to the beach, where a number of tourist and antique shops, and small art galleries, still survived. To get to her shop, they had to leave the car in a public car park, and walk the last few yards along what had once been a narrow road, and was now a pedestrian passage. The shop had a narrow frontage with living accommodation above, but it looked attractive, and there was a steady stream of people browsing the shops on either side of the passage. Tony noticed that even the name above the shop window, Big Busts, created a little stir of interest, especially amongst the men. Tony was impressed with Carmine's business. She showed him around, gaining confidence now she was on her own ground and in her specific field of expertise. As they'd entered the shop, she'd turned the sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN, and within a few minutes a family of three walked in and placed an order. The ten year old child sat on a swivel chair in front of the camera whilst Carmine took the photographs, turning the chair through forty-five degrees after each photograph. Afterwards, the parents happily paid the deposit, Carmine gave them a receipt and told them when it would be ready for collection. Whilst that was going on Tony looked through the books, and quickly made up my mind. She had good business sense and a sellable product. 'You've got your loan,' he told her when the three had left. 'You're in business.' 'Oh fantastic,' she cried. 'You superhero.' And she clasped him round the shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek. The launching of an Apollo rocket may be more spectacular, but for Tony, nothing could have sent such a sudden surge of adrenaline through his body, as those two incredible tits pushing into his chest. She seemed totally unaware of his reaction - fortunately he was half turned away from her, so she didn't feel his penis abruptly turn into an iron rod. 'I'm going to buy you a drink to say thank you,' she said. 'You're a customer of the bank, now,' Tony said, 'so the bank can foot the bill. And let's make it a meal instead.' ******************** Carmine was the most fantastic fuck of his life. She was so much younger than him, yet how was it that she had so much more experience? She rode him like a champion jockey on a steeplechase, letting him have his head for a time, but then calling him in check - urging him on to buck harder, then calming him down again - trotting, cantering, and mad galloping, but never letting him onto the winning straight until she'd enjoyed her ride to the full. And God, did she enjoy riding! She had one superb climax after another. Surely, Tony thought, no man had ever before given her such a tremendous fucking. And unusually for him, he was standing proud again, just a few minutes after each of his orgasms, ready for his next unbelievable ride of a lifetime. He lost count of how many times they fucked that night. He could remember, sometime after midnight, they sat naked in her shop drinking a bottle of red wine, on view to any passers by who might look into her shop window. Fortunately, the passage outside was lit, and they were in the dark, but they both found the risk so erotic that he fucked her on the shop counter, as they finished off the bottle of wine. Afterwards, Carmine pulled aside the swivel chair she had used to photograph the child, and put a low wooden turnstile in its place. She ordered him to stand on it, then, after using her lips to bring his cock to another massive erection, swivelled the turnstile around as she took photographs of him from every angle. Had he not been drunk with both her beauty, and the alcohol he'd consumed over the evening, his natural caution would have prevented him getting into a position so open to compromise, but right at that moment, he didn't care a damn. So, the local bank manager is photographed with an erection to be proud of - so what? They went upstairs and continued their night of lust. At about four am, as Tony finally dropped off to sleep, he knew he had met the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. ******************** 'But why, Carmine? Why can't we meet up again?' Tony knew that he was whining, but over the phone her rejection had sounded petulant. 'Because I don't want to.' 'We had a fantastic time on Monday night. You enjoyed it too.' 'Course I did. Look,' she seemed to struggle to find the right words, 'You gave me the loan, we had a nice meal, you fancied me like mad, and I thought you deserved a little thank you present. We had a great time, but that doesn't mean I want to repeat it every night for the rest of my life.' 'No one's talking about the rest of our lives, only about continuing something which worked so well the first time.' 'I saw the look on your face yesterday morning as I was leaving. That look said "long term commitment, move in together, and perhaps in time, wedding bells and the patter of little feet".' 'No way!' he denied, but he knew that she knew he was lying, so he changed tack. 'Is that so bad?' 'Not if the two people are right for each other, but we're not.' 'But we are. . .' 'You're white, I'm black. You're rich, I'm poor. You're middle-class, I'm working class. You're respected in high society, I'm not. You go to concerts at the Art Society, I go to black raves. . .' 'It doesn't matter.' 'Doesn't it? Perhaps that's because you think it will all be one way. You take me into your nice, four bedroom house, in a respectable part of Seacombe, and buy me wonderful clothes and diamond tiaras. You take me to your white, middle-class, cocktail parties and show me off to your friends. And all the women think how lucky I am to be taken in by you, and all the men think how lucky you are to pull such a sexy girl. Is that what you're thinking?' 'Well, I. . .' That was exactly what Tony was thinking, but it didn't seem diplomatic to admit it. 'Well how about if it was the other way round. If you came and lived with my parents, in their damp, cramped little tenement, with the smell of curry coming up from the Indian restaurant in the basement. Or went to events with my black friends, who all look at you and call you a white honky. How about that?' 'That's OK. I wouldn't mind.' Would he? But Carmine was in full flow, and nothing was going to stop her. 'You don't realise what it's like to be poor, or black, or even a woman. When you're all three, you see the discrimination - you see people openly despising you. It would be different if the boot was on the other foot.' 'Carmine!' Tony shouted down the phone and managed to silence her for a second. 'I'm not asking you to marry me. I only want to take you out and get to know you better. And if you'd prefer to do it in places where you feel at home, then that's fine with me. I don't mind if the boot is on the other foot.' 'You don't?' She sounded surprised, and was quiet for a minute, then added, 'You wouldn't mind?' 'No!' 'OK. Come round to the shop about eight, and I'll cook a meal for you.' CHAPTER 2 - DINNER AT EIGHT ========================== She looked superb when Tony got round there, in a bright yellow dress, with matching yellow, high-heeled pumps. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and whilst she was putting the finishing touches to a curry, she got him to open the bottle of wine he'd brought with him. They chatted about her business, and the progress she was making with developing it, with the money from the loan. As her bank manager, Tony should have been more than delighted at her business prowess, but his thoughts kept drifting to other things. She never warned Tony about the curry. One moment, he was tasting the subtle flavours as the first mouthful went sinking down his throat, the next a napalm bomb detonated somewhere inside him. He downed his glass of wine, then hurriedly refilled it and drank that as well. 'It's not too hot for you, is it?' She was smiling sweetly at him. She seemed to think his discomfort extremely amusing. 'Only, it's just the way me and my mates like it, and you said you wanted to be treated as one of them.' She paused, waiting for him to complain. Fortunately for a few seconds, his voice was beyond speech, but after another glass of wine, he had to see the funny side. He grinned back at her, and said in a hoarse whisper, which was all he could manage, 'Touch?.' It was the right reaction, her face lit up again, showing every one of her teeth, but if he hoped that she'd remove the bowl of curry in front of him and replace it with another dish which she'd been hiding until now, he was disappointed. He hesitated, and then took another mouthful, better prepared this time. Actually, the more Tony ate, the better that curry got, even though his face went the colour of beetroot and the sweat literally dripped off him. Carmine opened another bottle of wine to feed his thirst, and he drank most of the contents of the two bottles before they'd finished. 'I made you a little present,' she said. She reached behind the curtain and withdrew a bronze statue about twelve inches high. It was of a naked man with an enormous erection that shot up to a point level with the man's nipples. 'Er, that's for me?' he queried, looking embarrassed. 'You don't recognise it, do you?' Tony looked more closely at it, trying to avoid staring at the penis, a horrible thought looming in his head. 'It's me!' he gasped. 'But. . . but I don't look like that.' He pointed at the massive erection. 'That's the advantage of a computer,' she said. 'I can stretch reality. You know - morph it. Huge cock, slim waist, big tits - you name it, I can do it.' 'Wow!' The implications for her business hit him. 'You mean you can make statues of people, which improve on their good features and minimise their bad ones?' She nodded. 'Can I become your partner?' 'We've talked about that already, and the answer's "No Way!".' That had been another type of partnership, Tony thought, but it didn't seem worth pointing it out. He picked the statue up, and remarked how light it was. 'It's not really bronze at all,' she said. 'Simply a plastic that looks similar. It's much easier to mould than having to work with molten metal. I made this statue with my existing kit. Come downstairs and see what I can do, now I have the extra gear.' She led the way to her workshop at the rear of the shop. She flicked on the light, and Tony jumped in fright. There was a naked man in there, with a huge erection. In fact, not just any man, it was. . . 'It's me, again!' He stared at it with horrible fascination. It was a life sized copy of the bronze she had just shown him, except it was in a material the colour of his own skin. 'The full size computer driven cutting machine was delivered this morning. You'll be pleased to know that yours was the very first mould I cut on it.' 'It's fantastic.' It was too. He held his hand next to the hand of the statue. Only the fact that the one had hair differentiated the two. 'I had to use a wig for the hair on your head,' she said. 'But other than that, it's all exactly how it came out of the mould.' 'Carmine, your business is going to turn into a goldmine,' he said. 'Hope so.' She seemed to suddenly lose interest in her business, and changed the subject. 'Did you mean what you said, this morning, about being happy if the boot was on the other foot, and wanting to live in my world?' He nodded. 'Of course. I love being with you. I want to be as close to you as I can.' 'That's good, because I have a test for you to prove it.' Tony had a sudden foreboding. 'What type of test?' She walked over to one of the large drawers set underneath the workbench, and pulled one open. 'I can use all kinds of materials in the mould,' she said. 'This one is made of black latex.' She withdrew something black from the drawer. It wasn't a statue, at all - more like a diver's wetsuit, flopping over her arms. 'I don't understand,' he said. 'It's not a statue.' 'It's actually a reproduction of me,' she said. 'But by positioning another statue in the centre of the mould, before I pour in the latex, I effectively get a bodysuit, made to fit over the original statue.' Tony was feeling incredibly dense. Carmine was obviously leading up to something, but he couldn't work out what. 'But why would you want to put a latex bodysuit over a statue,' he asked. 'Why not simply mould your body in the same way you moulded mine?' 'Don't be silly,' she said. 'I only used the statue to produce the bodysuit. It's made to fit on you, of course.' ****************** Tony should have been appalled. If he'd understood what she'd said, the bodysuit would fit on him, and make him look exactly like Carmine. A big, black woman with breasts the size of melons. How could he, a heterosexual male even contemplate donning the suit? How come he was staring fascinated by it, wondering just exactly what it would feel like to turn into a beautiful black woman? Their telephone conversation earlier that day had echoed through his mind all afternoon. Tony had been poor in his younger days, but he certainly didn't know what it was like to be black or female, and he had difficulty imagining it. It was easy enough to say he could ignore discrimination when he came across it, but could he? Then there was the sexual element. Tony thought Carmine had the most beautiful body he had ever seen. He'd been dreaming of being close to her for the last two days - being able to touch her cheek, or squeeze a breast, or stroke her thigh. In that suit, he'd be able to do that whenever he felt like it. Would it make a difference that he would be doing it to himself? He wanted to find out. Carmine had been watching him whilst the thoughts whizzed through his mind. 'Well?' she said. 'It would be interesting to try it on - see how well it fits.' She smiled. 'You've passed the first test. I thought you'd say "No", out of hand.' 'So did I,' he said. ************************** The suit was in two parts. She handed him a pair of leggings, with built in feet and toes. The latex was incredibly thin from the toes up to above the knee, but then it started to thicken on the outside of the thigh, right up to the buttocks and hips, where it was almost two inches thick. 'I told a little lie when I said it would make you look exactly like me,' she said. 'The problem is your shoulders are much broader than mine, so I've had to make a corresponding increase in the width of the hips to balance it out. It will also compensate for the size of your rather large waist, so overall you should look more or less in the same proportion as me.' It was a valid point and Tony didn't argue - not until he'd pulled the leggings up to his waist, anyway, and the latex squeezed his stomach down to an impossibly small size. 'Don't be such a baby,' she said in response to his gasps. 'It's one of the features of being a woman you will just have to get used to. Women have to suffer to make their figures look good. So stop complaining.' She'd left a small slit in the groin of the leggings for his cock to poke through, and after he'd pushed it through, the tight constriction gave him an instant erection. 'That doesn't look very ladylike,' he said. 'What am I going to do with that?' 'Don't worry,' she said. 'I've got a special way of dealing with large cocks.' He smiled. He'd hoped she was going to say that. He was beginning to enjoy this more and more. The other part of the bodysuit was like a leotard top, with built in arms and hands, and a head mask. It was very difficult getting the thing over his head, particularly as he couldn't breathe or see, but between the two of them, they managed to get it in position, and pull it down over the top of the leggings. There was a fastening between the legs, and they both looked down at his purple cock, still throbbing after forcing its way through the small slit at the groin. 'I said I had a way of dealing with that,' she said, and she brought her hand smartly down and gave it a terrible slap. Tony howled with pain, but her action had worked. His cock had shriveled to the size of his little toe, and was clearly trying to climb back inside his body, before it received another slap. Carmine bent down and fiddled around with it in a most uncomfortable way for a few seconds. Then it was over, and she was fastening the two halves of the leotard between his legs. She stood up, and critically stared at him. 'That's better, now let's adjust it on your face a little.' She had to stretch and pull it quite a bit, so it fitted around his eyelids, and his mouth, but eventually, she was satisfied. 'One final thing left to do,' she said, and she reached down and pulled a black wig from the drawer, and flipped it over his head. She stood back and admired her work. 'Hmm, not bad,' she said. There's a mirror next door. Why don't you go and admire yourself?' The first problem Tony discovered about being black is that in dull light, you can't see yourself properly in a mirror. He flicked the light switch and then gulped with joy. The woman who stood in front of him wasn't quite the same as Carmine - certainly broader in hip and waist, but she had those same tremendous breasts and her face was almost identical. He swivelled in front of the mirror, turning first one way, and then the other. He looked pretty good. He stepped back. His breasts gave a delicious quiver as he moved, so he stepped forward again - another quiver. He shrugged his shoulders - a jelly-like wobble. He swung his shoulders violently left and right, and his tits went swinging vigorously to the left then the right, then the left and right again, before they settled into their natural place - on the front of his body. 'Fucking hell!' said a voice outside. Tony turned towards the shop window. There were at least a dozen men staring in at him. ************ 'I want you to step out of the shop into the passageway.' A surge of panic hit him. What the hell was he thinking of? He could imagine the newspaper headlines, 'Bank manager exposed in public.' 'No way! You saw those men gawping at me just now.' 'But that was because they saw a pretty woman standing stark naked in the shop with the light on. You have clothes on now.' After he'd leapt back into the workshop, she had laughed at his panic, and taken him upstairs to get dressed. She'd offered him the choice of her wardrobe, but for him there was no hesitation. He wanted to wear the dress which she'd been wearing on Monday, when she walked into the bank, and stunned him and everyone else. It was a good choice, for the full skirt hid the extra inches on his hips. When he looked in the bedroom mirror, he could have been the twin of the woman who had come into his bank on Monday. He was grinning at himself as he turned in front of the mirror, this time with only Carmine as the audience, but that was when Carmine had uttered the words which had thrown him into panic. But if he didn't go outside, how else would he experience what it was really like to be a black woman? He would only have to step outside, walk a few paces up and down and quickly dart back into the shop if there was a danger of being discovered. 'I'll come with you,' she said. 'So I can do the talking, if necessary.' She led him by the hand back down the stairs, through the shop and out into the passage. Fortunately, Tony's crowd of admirers appeared to have dispersed, and there were only one or two people walking along the lane. The women hardly appeared to notice him, whereas the men gave him the kind of glance that men normally give to gorgeous women, which sent the adrenaline surging through Tony's blood. 'Keep your footsteps small,' she whispered. 'One foot in front of the other. Chin up, shoulders back, bum out, tummy in. . .' And so they proceeded down the lane, turning left at the end, walking a short distance along the road, than making another left down another pedestrian passage, and finally completing a full circle to return to her shop. As they turned the final corner, Tony noticed a policeman standing in a shop doorway directly in front of them. There was nothing for it but to carry on as though they hadn't a care in the world, and as they walked past, Carmine smiled at the policeman and gave him a wink. She appeared quite laid back, but Tony's heart was banging in his ears. It got even louder when they got to Big Busts. 'Oh dear,' Carmine said. 'I think I've left my keys inside.' 'What!' Tony's hoarse whisper was almost a shout. They were locked out! He'd be discovered and ridiculed. The newspaper headlines were already being written. . . He glanced over his shoulder. The policeman had been watching their progress up the passageway, and now he left his doorway, and started to walk towards them. Carmine's teeth suddenly glowed in the darkness. 'Only joking,' she said, and she fiddled with the door, and suddenly it was open and she disappeared inside. Tony tottered after her, quivering with fright - or was it excitement? 'Are you the owner of this business?' The policeman's voice cut through Tony's short-lived jubilation. 'Yes.' Carmine was totally composed - and why shouldn't she be. She stepped between Tony and the policeman, and added, 'Why? Is there a problem?' 'I didn't see you use a key to open the door.' The policeman was suspicious, but thank God, it wasn't about Tony's sex or style of dress. 'I left the keys inside the shop. I used this instead.' Tony almost had a heart attack when she gaily waved her credit card at the policeman - and not even any old credit card, but one of his own bank's credit cards. 'So how do I know you're not breaking into the place?' Even the policeman couldn't believe that a thief would be so stupid. Carmine turned towards Tony. 'Could you get the lease, please, and show it to the nice policeman. It's in the bottom drawer behind the counter.' Aware of four eyes scrutinising his walk, Tony tottered behind the counter, bent down and found the document. But neither the policeman or Carmine had moved, and he had to totter back to the position where he could pass it to her. She took it from him, and passed it onto the policeman. 'This should satisfy you.' He took the thick bundle of pages of small print and perused it. 'How do I know that you are the person whose name is on this lease?' He read the name off it, 'Ms Carmine Ross.' 'Why,' she said with a huge grin on her face, 'here's my credit card.' ********** When he had gone, Tony breathed a huge sigh of relief. 'My God. That was close. What rotten luck to have forgotten to take your keys.' 'It wasn't bad luck. I don't have a set of keys.' 'No keys! Why not? How have you been getting into the shop?' 'I've used my credit card, each time. It's not a very secure shop.' 'But why haven't you got the keys from the landlord?' 'We still haven't finally agreed the terms of the lease. He's asking far too much money for this dump. I'm slowly bargaining him down.' 'But when you rented the shop, he must have given you the keys. And you just showed that policeman a copy of the lease.' 'Ah well. . .' Carmine paused for a second, before adding, 'I didn't actually formally rent the shop. It's been empty for months, and the door wasn't very secure, so I've just been. . . using the space. You know, sort of squatting.' Tony was horrified. 'But squatting only applies to living accommodation - not business premises. What about that lease?' 'I got it from the stationers around the corner. Filled in the blanks and got one of my mates to sign it. It certainly looks official enough to fool the fuzz, as you can see. It also allowed me to get the electricity connected.' 'Oh my God!' Tony put his elbows on the counter and dropped his head into his hands. 'I can't believe what you've just done to me. You've not only involved the bank in a fraudulent deal, dressed me up as a woman and paraded me in front of the town, you've knowingly presented false documents to the police with me as a witness.' Carmine was silent. 'Well, what do you say?' 'I say. . .' and she bent her head down so it was level with his, 'that you make one hell of a sexy woman.' And her tongue slipped between his lips, and started to play games with his own tongue. **************** Tony woke up feeling as if a brand new world had just started. He struggled to sit upright in the bed, a childish grin breaking out on his face as he stared over towards the dressing table. The woman smiling back at him in the mirror was fantastic - big, black and beautiful, and naked from the waist up, her lower half obscured by a white drape across her midriff. He could see a number of brightly coloured dresses hanging in the open wardrobe, but the simple white dress with the deep cleavage she had worn last night was still lying on the floor where it had got strewn in the heat of the moment. God knows where his own clothes had ended up - at that moment, he couldn't have cared less, for life ahead was far too exciting to be bothered about a trivial detail like trousers. With a bit of luck, he wasn't going to need them for ages. He blew her a kiss, and the woman in the mirror returned it with an even bigger smile, her breasts giving a pleasant jiggle, as she moved. He gave another shake of his shoulders so he could watch the effect upon her breasts in the mirror. The previous evening after their first lovers' tiff was abruptly brought to an end, Carmine and he had almost run upstairs to the bedroom, and pulled off each other's clothes. Then they'd made love like lesbians - kissing, stroking, and squeezing, before getting into a 69 position - giving each other long strokes of the tongue on their most sensitive of spots. They both came countless times, but Tony's orgasms were very different from those he'd experienced on Monday, or for that matter, ever before. Gone was the violent thrusting and jerking which culminated in squirting semen as far as he could inside his partner - this was a sweetness that filled him from head to toe and made him softly gasp with pleasure, and which went on for minute after wonderful minute. Then he would be returning the favour to her, bringing her to blissful climax. And so they continued through into the small hours of the morning, when they'd fallen to sleep in each other's arms. There was no sign of her now, although he could hear movements down below as she prepared the shop for its normal ten am opening. Jesus Christ! He was late for work. Again! Tony shot out of bed and frantically tried to undo the bodysuit fastening between his legs. He couldn't even find the catch! 'Carmine! Carmine!' He shouted down to her, and when she didn't respond, went dashing downstairs. 'Carmine, have you seen the time?' He stood at the bottom of the stairs, and mindful of his public display yesterday evening, kept well out of view of the shop window. 'That's alright,' she said. 'It's still a few minutes before we open, and I can manage on my own for a while, until trade builds up. Take your time.' 'What are you on about? I'm talking about the bank, not the shop. How do I get the bodysuit off? I can't find the catch.' 'Oh no,' she said. 'We agreed. You're in my world now - not a bank manager's world. You're working for me in the shop for the rest of this week.' 'But I can't. What about my bank?' 'It's OK. I telephoned them and told them you had flu, and wouldn't in be for the rest of this week. After all, it was you who suggested we play hooky on Tuesday morning.' 'But who did you say you were?' 'Why I gave them my name, of course. I had to remind your secretary who I was - that I'd been in the bank on Monday afternoon - but then she remembered me quite distinctly.' She looked at his face, and added, 'Why? Is there a problem with telling them you've been sleeping with a black woman?' CHAPTER 3 - GIRLS NIGHT OUT ========================== Tony had never realised how much pleasure working in a shop could be. In his previous life, he imagined it must be quite boring, standing around waiting for customers to come in, then having to be nice to them, even if they were extremely rude. But in Big Busts, it was all so interesting, and there was simply so much to do. Carmine had a long list of outstanding orders, and they had to work non stop to meet her promised delivery times. Customers had been continually popping in - some just to make enquiries, but a number placed orders and had their photographs taken, whilst others collected their orders. Tony - or Toni, as Carmine had now named him - had been incredibly nervous at first, about dealing with customers, or more accurately, about speaking to them. 'They'll realise I'm a man as soon as I open my mouth,' Toni said. 'Course they won't,' she replied. 'OK, most women have higher pitched voices than you, but there are many who have quite deep voices. And remember that the way that you talk is far more important than the pitch. Women put much more animation into their speech. Anyway, looking like you do, there's no way anyone could possibly question your sex.' It was true that, with the dress Carmine had selected as the shop's uniform, it was impossible to believe that people might think Toni was a man. A white, cotton smock dress with puffy sleeves, and a deep square neckline which allowed a breathtaking view of their 'Big Busts', pushed up by the best that Gossard could provide. A lace up leather bodice pulled in their waists, but their hips and buttocks swelled out gracefully beneath. A matching smock cap and little, spike-heeled booties completed the outfit. 'Remember, men are generally not interested in purchasing head and shoulder busts of their loved ones. But show them another type of bust, and they'll agree to a purchase without question, especially if it means they have an excuse to come back the next day to collect it.' She was right. Toni had no end of interest in her tits, and she had to admit, it felt good, being gawked at by every bloke who came in. It wasn't even as though it was difficult to be pleasant to people. They were mostly on holiday, so they tended to be in a good mood - the blokes all had their eyeballs popping out, and the women were generally agreeable anyway. For the first time ever, Toni regretted he had spent his life developing a career in banking, when he could have been doing something so much more interesting. That Thursday, they worked all through the day with hardly a break, until they shut up shop late in the evening. Toni was far more tired than Carmine, who had got used to the routine over the last few weeks, and they barely had the strength for one quickie, when they finally fell into bed. Friday was even more frantic. Two families had come in shortly after they had opened, and explained they were on a day trip and their coach left that evening. Could they take delivery of their busts before they left, they asked. Within fifteen minutes of accepting their orders, it appeared that every other occupant of the coach came in with the same request. Carmine had to do some frenzied calculations, working out how she could break the jobs into batches, and how long each batch would take. But finally she accepted every one of the orders, and the two of them were working flat out until the last order was collected only a few minutes before their coach departed at eleven pm. Even then, they had to get on with the back orders, which were being picked up on Saturday morning. They finally got to bed about one am, too tired to even give each other more than a little cuddle before they fell asleep. Saturday morning, they had to get up at six am to remove the casts from the moulds, and clean them up ready for collection. By nine-thirty, they had them all completed and ready for business to open at ten, and they even had time to snatch a proper breakfast. It was over breakfast they had their first real argument. 'I'm sorry it's been so frantic, Toni,' Carmine said. 'We haven't had any time for each other.' Toni grinned back at her. 'It's been fantastic,' he said. 'I can't remember when I've ever enjoyed myself so much. You women complain about discrimination, but I've never had so many offers in my life, as I've had in the last two days as a woman.' 'What about being black?' she asked. 'How did you feel when that man yesterday was so horrible?' She was referring to an incident when a customer's delivery hadn't been ready for him when promised. Even worse, they had trouble finding what had happened to his order, and the man commenced a tirade along the lines of, 'You fucking wogs come to this country and. . .' Fortunately, Carmine located the bust and was able to pacify him enough to collect the money outstanding. Toni wrinkled his nose. 'I felt like smacking him in the teeth,' he said, 'but I guess that's the hidden male in me, making its presence felt.' 'I guess it is,' she said. 'I always want to cut off their balls.' Toni winced. 'Never mind,' Carmine continued. 'We'll shut up shop at five, this afternoon. Then we'll get dressed up and I'm going to take you out on the town. You can meet some of my friends, and later on, we'll tour all the best black clubs.' A shadow passed over Toni's face. 'Oh, sorry baby. I'm OK for the early evening, but then I have to get back to the bank for a special job.' Carmine was furious. 'Had enough of being a black woman, have you? Want to go back to being a nice, comfortable, middle-class, boring, old, bank manager FART!' She shouted the last word at him, and he visibly cringed. 'Anyway,' she continued, 'can't Nick Brown handle the bingo money?'. 'Bingo money! What do you know about the bingo money?' Toni had suddenly disappeared, and it was a very male Tony who was now shouting at her. Carmine looked at him in disbelief. 'Everybody knows about the bingo money. They advertise it all over town. One million pound prize jackpot which can be won any Saturday night. They have the money on display in an armoured glass box at the front of the bingo hall. It's hardly a fucking state secret.' 'I mean,' Tony said, 'how do you know. . .' He stopped himself and decided to rephrase his question. 'That is, what makes you think that my bank handles the cash?' 'Toni, you're being stupid,' Carmine said. 'Two months ago, I won a hundred quid at bingo. Rather than taking the money in cash, which I knew I'd blow in one evening, I decided to take a cheque. The address of your branch was on the cheque. So, I sort of assumed that you're the bankers for the bingo hall, or is that a wild assumption? Which also kinda leads one to think that on Saturday night, when they've finished with the money at the bingo hall, they put it in an armoured car and take it to your bank. OK? 'And incidentally,' she continued, 'I hadn't got a proper bank account when I won the money, so I decided to open one at your branch. Which is why on Monday, it was to your bank I came, to ask you for a business loan.' With her explanation, Tony had calmed down. 'Sorry, I was being stupid. There we were in the bank, keeping it all top secret, when anyone with a brain could work out where they take the million pounds to be stored. 'But it is my responsibility to ensure it's properly dealt with,' he continued. 'Besides, I telephoned the bank yesterday to tell them I was still intending to come in and do it.' He could still vividly remember the icy reception he'd received from Val, fuming over his liaison with Carmine. 'I overheard you ring them,' Carmine said. 'That's why I telephoned your bank again, this morning, and told them your flu had taken a turn for the worse, and you wouldn't be coming in after all.' She continued hurriedly, before Tony could recover from his surprise and explode. 'You promised me that, this week, you'd let the boot be on the other foot. If our relationship means anything to you, you can't just walk away tonight, just because it doesn't fit in with your bank's schedule. Please come and meet my mates, and after tonight, your trial is over and you'll have passed. Tomorrow, Toni, we can decide how our relationship is going to work, for the rest of our lives.' It was such an impassioned plea that the anger inside Tony instantly subsided. 'OK,' Toni said, and she smiled at Carmine. 'Let's put on our glad rags tonight, and go out on the town.' ****************** The wore matching purple gowns - backless to the waist, with halter necklines that exposed, more than hid, their breasts. Layers of light, filmy lace flared out from their waists, but not so many layers that you couldn't just make out the tiny pair of purple knickers and suspender belt, highlighted against their black skin. Matching high-heeled sandals and tiny handbags completed their outfits, and they looked for all the world like not-quite-identical twins, out for a night of fun on the town. They first of all called at the pub not far from the shop, where they had a couple of stiff drinks each - to calm Toni's nerves, Carmine said. Then they got a taxi to the new town, and got it to drop them off at the end of Sunset Strip. Sunset Strip wasn't its real name of course. It actually had the rather snappy title of Alderman Cleckheaton Boulevard, so it wasn't surprising that the road which housed almost every nightclub and disco in Seacombe had been dubbed with a much more appropriate name. Carmine took them down an alley off the main drag, and into a club where the air was thick with the smell of cannabis, and a jazz band were making the kind of music worth dying for. Carmine introduced Toni to a group of her friends who were sitting in the semi dark, rattling through their names so rapidly, she could only remember that the tall guy who moved to make room for her was called Mitchell. A joint was passed around, and Toni hungrily inhaled - it had been decades since he'd last taken one, at university. Then Mitchell was pushing drinks into their hands, and sitting down so close to Toni that his leg pressed against hers. It was, Toni realised with an incredible thrill surging through her, going to be a long evening. At some point they moved on to a disco, where they danced energetically as a group, although it always appeared to be Mitchell who was closest to her when the slow dances commenced. And it was whilst he was clutching her during the slow dances that Toni realised Mitchell had a friend, who kept popping up between them. It was the sort of friend who initially made his presence felt by pushing between her knees, and then, by some miraculous process which Toni didn't quite follow, suddenly leapt up to become a massager of navels. The problem with having false tits is that you can't feel when someone's stroking them, and Toni suddenly realised that Mitchell had probably been squeezing her nipples all evening, without any dissuasion from her. She pushed his hand away now, firmly but with a smile, and went to join Carmine, where she was sitting with the bloke who'd been dancing with her. Toni made a face at Carmine, and they both went to the toilet, as girls do. After Toni had finished in the cubicle, she joined Carmine who was standing looking into the mirror above the washbasins, and touching up her makeup. 'How you going?' she asked. 'I'm a bit worried that Mitchell is getting a bit too frisky.' 'He's a nice guy. What's the problem?' Toni glanced over her shoulder at the other girls in the toilet, and lowered her voice. 'You know what the problem is. I'm attracted to you, not to Mitchell.' The girl at the next washbasin gave a quick, sideways look at the pair of them, then concentrated back on her makeup. 'But I'm not available at the moment. Mitchell is.' Carmine popped her lipstick back into her handbag, and withdrew a joint from it. She slid it between her lips and lit it, then blew smoke into Toni's face. 'He is an exceptionally well built guy,' she said, 'if you know what I mean.' Toni opened her mouth to speak, but Carmine pushed the joint between her lips, before she could say a word. As Toni dragged on it, Carmine moved her lips to Toni's ear and whispered, 'He has the biggest cock in the world.' There was a sudden look of interest from the girl next to them, but Toni choked on the joint, pulled it from her mouth and said, 'I'm not concerned.' Carmine pushed the joint back into Toni's mouth, and she obediently closed her lips and inhaled. 'The largest pair of balls you could imagine.' Toni shook her head, as though to clear the vision from her eyes, and took another drag on the joint. 'His prick is so thick you can't wrap your hand around it.' Toni gulped. 'You can hardly open your mouth wide enough to get it inside.' 'Look!' Toni had withdrawn the joint and was trying to think of all the reasons why she didn't want sex with Mitchell, but she could actually only think of one thing to say. 'You know I'm not interested in men - only you.' 'How do you know, if you've never tried it?' Carmine pushed the joint back into Toni's mouth, who took another drag before removing it and saying. 'I just don't fancy him.' Carmine pushed the joint back between Toni's lips, and said, 'Well, that's not a problem. We women have to do things all the time that we don't particularly fancy. But that's not a valid reason not to do them. If you're really telling the truth about being happy to experience life as a black woman, then you'll be happy to take Mitchell outside. You'll simply be dying to release the belt on his trousers, and watch his great black cock force its way out the top. You'll love to play with it in your hands, and softly cup his bollocks, and squeeze them. You'll crave the moment when you sink to your knees and run your tongue from balls to head, and back again. And you'll be ecstatic when you get that monster inside your mouth, and you give him the blow job of his life.' Toni should have been horrified, but in a sense, Carmine was right. There was no reason why she, Toni, should be frightened of getting better acquainted with Mitchell. After all, hadn't she enjoyed his company all evening? In fact, she'd hardly spoken to Carmine since she'd met itchell. Somewhere, right at the back of her mind was another person telling her not to do it, but that person was a bit of a bore, wasn't he? She really didn't know why Carmine had taken any interest at all in that dreary, old, bank manager. 'This will be the end of your trial, Toni. When you've passed this test, you've graduated, with honours. We can go back home then, and plan our future together.' He who hesitates is lost, thought Toni. 'Let's go,' she said, 'and find lover boy.' 'Shit!' said the girl at the next washbasin. *************** Within five minutes Mitchell and Toni were outside the disco, and walking down a dark, narrow passageway at the side of the building. 'I think you'll be pretty impressed with the monster I've got waiting for you,' Mitchell burbled. 'Most women are absolutely gob-smacked.' They'd reached the end of the passageway, where a row of dustbins lined the base of a high wall, and obstructed the entrance to a wooden door. 'This is a good place to come,' Mitchell said, and swivelled Toni around so she was in his arms. He pulled her against him, and within seconds, his hands were inside her dress, his tongue was inside her mouth, and something very much bigger was pushing against her stomach. She wriggled against him, and pushed her tits into his chest. 'Fucking hell, baby,' he groaned. 'Never mind the foreplay, or I'll be coming in my trousers.' He grasped her head in both hands and forced her down onto her knees in front of him. In one impossibly speedy action, he'd undone the belt on his trousers and pulled them down to his knees. 'Take a look at that, baby,' he said, but before she had chance, he was pulling her head forward, onto him. As Toni took him inside her mouth, she couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that Carmine had been somewhat overselling Mitchell's attributes. OK, he was a big boy, somewhat larger than bank manager Tony, but it was hardly anything to write home about. As she sank her mouth down his shaft, Toni almost giggled at the thought of writing home to her mother about the events of that evening. Mitchell was gasping loudly now, and Toni had got him almost as far inside her mouth as it would go, when he gave a sudden jerk inside her. Not having previous experience of this kind of action, but having read all about it in a myriad of books which gave the impression of being well researched on the subject, Toni had expected to drink down the dollops of cum as they were squirted out. In fact, she choked on the very first, tiny squirt as it hit the back of her throat, and she involuntary jerked her head back and closed her mouth. Fortunately for Mitchell, her actions were in that order, and his second squirt struck her in the left eye, virtually blinding her. Turning her head away, the third stroke caught her in the right ear, and then it was all over. 'Thanks, baby,' Mitchell said. 'I really needed that. Here's a little thank you present.' He flicked something towards her which she couldn't see. 'Are you coming back into the disco, now?' He was pulling up and fastening his trousers, oblivious to the cum streaming down Toni's face, although in fairness to him, it was difficult to see anything in the darkness of the passage. The beam of torch light rectified that, and Toni, still with semen in her eye, was now totally blinded by the light shining directly into her face. 'Police! Hold it right there,' the voice snapped. With his back to the light, Mitchell didn't have Toni's disadvantage, and in an instant he was clambering onto the top of the dustbins. His arms just reached the top of the high wall and in a second he had climbed over the top, and disappeared out of Toni's life for ever. The torch beam swung back to Toni and picked up her large boobs pulled from the halter top, the semen dribbling down her face, and a twenty pound note, which appeared to have got stuck to a glob of semen on her right shoulder. 'You're nicked,' the voice said. ************************** This time last week, Toni thought as they waited for a police car to pick them up and take them back to the police station, bank manager Tony Phillips had a quiet evening watching a romantic drama on TV, and had then gone to bed and read himself to sleep with a novel by his favourite author - Agatha Christie. He had a decent job at the bank with good career prospects. He had a comfortable house and a Jaguar. His sex life was a little lacking, but then a guy couldn't have everything, could he? If he'd been asked to imagine his worst nightmare, Toni thought, it could not have been as bad as it was going to get when the truth was revealed and his humiliation started. It wasn't just his friends and family he was worried about, but when the bank found out, he'd undoubtedly lose his job and his company car. Even the low-cost mortgage on his house came from his bank, and he'd have to sell up and move out. He'd be ridiculed everywhere he went, and his mother would be so ashamed of him. Should he admit everything straightaway, he wondered, or try to bluff it through. If he tried to bluff and was eventually discovered, surely it would be even worse for him - on the other hand, could it get any worse? Although Toni had no way of knowing, in fact the answer to that question was, yes, not only could it get very much worse, it was going to do so before the night was over. Toni immediately recognised the arresting officer as PC Swan, the one who had interrogated them on Wednesday evening. Obviously he was one of those stupid honkies who thought that all blacks looked the same, and he didn't appear to have connected the woman in front of him now, who said her name was Toni Curtains - he'd almost said it was Toni Curtis, but had managed to change it at the last minute - with the one he'd seen in a shop in the old town, three evenings before. This was fortunate, because it meant that Toni was able to lie about her address, saying she had no fixed abode. After all, she reasoned, she didn't want to give the police any clue which might lead back to the shop, and hence the bank. When the police car arrived, driven by a rather pretty woman constable, Swan had pushed Toni into the back seat, and then got into the passenger seat. 'What's she done?' the driver asked, giving Toni a sympathetic look. 'Prostitution,' PC Swan replied. 'Caught her on the job with cash in hand.' He grinned at Toni. 'Well, it wasn't quite in hand, was it love?' 'Do you want a tissue?' the driver queried. She'd noticed the mess on Toni's face, and she passed her a box from the glove compartment. 'Thanks.' 'That's OK. My name's PC Sally Wright, by the way.' 'I wish I could say I was pleased to meet you,' Toni replied. The remarks appeared to annoy Sally, which was a pity since Toni hadn't meant it offensively. But the car set off with such a sudden lurch that Toni was thrown back in the seat, and the semen she'd just wiped off her face with the tissue, was smeared right across her lips. 'Didn't you get enough in the first time?' PC Swan smirked at her, and she felt like smacking him in the face. She was cleaning the last of the gunk off her face when the call came through on the police radio - a fight in The Market Tavern pub, at the end of The Strip. Assistance required. 'Oh shit!' Swan said. 'Let me out here. I don't want to get involved in a punch up.' Sally smiled sweetly at him, and gesticulated at Toni. 'You can't leave your arrest behind, and there isn't time to drop you both off.' She'd pushed her foot to the floor and switched the siren on. 'Besides, I'm sure you wouldn't want to be seen to be neglecting your duty in front of the public.' 'Fuck you,' Swan muttered. Three minutes later, they were pulling up outside the Market Tavern. There were people tumbling out of the door, noses bleeding and hands clutching various parts of their anatomy. Inside, the fight was obviously well underway, and both Swan and Sally went inside, leaving Toni in the car. Time to escape, Toni thought. The problem was that the rear doors of the police car were locked, and Toni found it bloody difficult to climb over the back of the front seats to get to the front door. When she'd done so, she found the bastards had double locked the whole car. The only way to get out would be to smash the windows. Toni had a think about that. Being done for prostitution was one thing, but smashing up a police car was likely to result in having not only the book thrown at her, but the desk and chairs as well. On the other hand, if she wasn't here when they came back, it didn't really matter, did it? She wriggled her legs up onto the passenger's seat, and lay back on the driver's seat. Now all she had to do was to bring her knees up to her face, and smash her stilettos against the passenger window. 'Hello, having a little lie down?' Sally had pulled the driver's door open, and she smiled down sweetly at Toni. Sally had used her left hand to open the door, so that she could employ her right to keep a bi