The Revenge Of Jolly Roger
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Once A Jolly SwagmanChapter 8 free porn video
Mary and Adele slept with me again that night.
Nina hand-wrote in texta a job available sign for Georgio to place on his front shop windows and doors, and ten minutes after opening that Sunday he rang her as there were already five pretty girls waiting, only minutes after putting the signs up. At the same time as he rang, she was gazing fixedly, like a vampire at a blood donor, at Mary, and my urine pouring into her open mouth and her almost panicked swallowing; her daughter was showing off, and Nina was jealous.
Nina shook her head then drove straight to the shop, as the opportunity of permanently leaving the shop, which had become her nightmare, was too good to waste. Almost sixteen girls and women, from fifteen to thirty five, were eventually employed, where over two hundred applied, a lot of them schoolgirls who were seeking casual after school jobs, and the mature women, almost all married, only one a desperate looking divorcee, were for the days and to work alternative days including weekends. She had a special eye out for ones who had recently completed school and will be able to work in teams and the shop can then have its hours longer as the business is often just heating up, as they closed, exhausted at ten.
Georgio's shop would be opening from eight in the morning to midnight for then on, and the shop's gross income almost doubled overnight, although initially pure profit was down a smidgen due to the new extra wages and the set up costs for new employees. Georgio thought his wife was a genius, and having pretty girls around him all day had put a spring back into his step. Nina's only job now was co-ordinating the girls and had noted that business almost doubles when the occasional girl dressed down a bit. Damian suggested to her to supply less than really proper uniforms for them all, show some abbreviated bust line, they should have the shop and girl's name embroided onto, or even around, a breast or each breast, and they would be therefore tax deductable for the shops taxable income and brought into prominence that it was an attractive girl serving them.
Make sure the uniform is attractive and not obscene though heading in that direction, making the girl herself feel attractive and sexy in the uniform. You know, with lots of cleavage and accentuate her being a woman, even when they're not yet; especially when they're not yet. If you have to, send each girl to be fitted, do so, though the supplier will probably come to you. Nina spent the money and did the home work with a commercial uniform provider, and with Georgio whinging about the added expenses all the way, handed each of the young casual schoolgirls two and the mature girls up to six uniforms. The uniform company cleaned the uniforms twice a week, repaired and otherwise kept up their maintenance, and the cost came completely off the shops taxes, which Georgio was forever whinging about.
Georgio stopped whinging during the second week and was claiming to be the originator of the idea at the start of the third week. He is also having trouble keeping his eyes out of the low necklines, which were seeming to show a little more each day, a button undone or there, and the small change room he had to have built out the back, is perpetually having its door left ajar as they each change into their cleaned uniform each time they work. All very innocent, of course.
It had become quite normal for Nina to be sitting on my cock or a girls face while swapping employees shifts around on the computer book thing she bought, marvellous invention; she had found she was able to swap around women and suckle on my freshly spent penis at the same time.
Monday afternoon we are all at the solicitor's office. I sat on the corner of her desk again because she only had three customer's chairs now and four physical clients. I joke with her that if she supplied me with a shorthand pad and a secretary's suit, I could be a cute secretary taking notes while sitting on her knee. She just looked at me blandly and I changed the subject. Seeing I have just come from work, and are wearing stubby shorts, a tee-shirt and work boots, the joke went down like a lead balloon.
The reason for that meeting was Adele's father and brother have had their bail revoked and are currently ensconced in a remand prison somewhere. Both are in the gaol hospital ward because both have a fractured skull. The school board of trustees agree that they have been left liable for massive damages, as their insurance indemnity company has already doubled its insurance fees due to an expected massive suit. That very act alone says they expect to lose but we are not supposed to know. Both Adele's mother and the school have employed a detective agency, coincidentally the same company, to find anything on Adele or her helpers with whom she was currently resident. Miss Tabatha Hutchinson says she does not believe in coincidences and neither do I. Mousy has come out of the closet.
I told her about our tail and we discussed the less than salubrious, Farah Conswalee, by that time an ex-private detective, who has lost her licence to work in her old agency and her private gun licence because she was carrying a host of other lethal and dangerous weapons, illegal in this and any other State, and also drugs used to stupefy and of addiction. Part of the charge had mentioned that she had a protected bag of heroin in her possession with my fingerprint on it. Police believe it was going to be used to implicate Adele's friends in drug usage or sales. I randomly wondered how she got the fingerprint, but admitted to myself that I think I could have done it, if push came to shove; thoughts like these are not for public discussion.
Miss, she has begun emphasising her marital status for some reason, Hutchinson has decided that we are well on the way to having massive lawsuits against the school, her parents and the agency where Farah Conswalee was employed. The place she says she expected to gain the most from was the indemnity insurance of the school and the detective agency. "It seems that me, Mr Saint Joseph, that you have a fan in a Detective-Inspector Swimmer, who is giving me way out of the ordinary help. He has asked to have it relayed to you, not to be found to have hurt any of the opposition, but continue as you are currently acting;" Hmmm!
She pressed her finger to her lips and showed him that she has a piece of paper in her hand, given to her to give to me with some advice. She handed me a torn piece of notepad, one word bugs, written on it in pencil, underlined twice and exclamation marked three times. I nodded in acceptance and she pointed at her desk phone. "Okay Miss Tabatha Hutchinson, I have decided that I will wear a pair of stubbies and a singlet as your secretary and I'll expect a cappuccino delivered for breaks. Are we your last appointment?" I pointed at her foolscap writing pad and pencil, she nodded, "Why don't I take four beautiful women out for coffee?" Four sets of women's eyes looked to the ceiling, but also blushed to prove the old saying, vanity, woman be thy name, and you can never go too far wrong by giving deserved complements - whether they're deserved or not. In this case I couldn't fault it.
A café is next door to her slightly scruffy office building, so, on an absolutely beautiful cloud free day, with tables set out on the broad footpath, we went straight to the back of the shop. I passed the note to each of the girls, and mentioned, "It seems the agencies we are dealing with are not particularly moral or ethical in how they obtain their information and I will drop into a Tandy store or Dick Smiths and see if they have a detector." Accepting a little advice from MISS Hutchinson, four blocks away in Fremantle's main fancy arcade, they did, though not for on top of the counter sale.
A kid wearing clothing less fashionable than mine, which I didn't think was possible, set me back three hundred dollars and pointed out the system of turning it on and scanning a room for whatever I deemed suitable and if left on for a time, will detect and record if a device works to transmit in shortwave bursts. I shook his hand and he looked like he wanted to cry and run out and wash his corrupted hand. After I paid with EFTPOS, he did hurriedly leave to a back room. I laughed to myself and promised I'd do that more often. I had left the girls outside, as I wanted the kid to be physically capable of talking to me.
Tabatha has been given the code name of pussy when we want to discuss anything about her, which I told her next visit. Me I was Prof, so nothing new there. She enquired about her name, and I said, because one of my, undisclosed, ladies has decided you would be a nice piece of. I didn't say, that in reality it stemmed from, Tabatha→ Tabby→ cat→ Pussy, because the first explanation was so much cuter and so close to the truth from Adele's point of view. Then Pussy went redder than a fire engine and I discovered that I rather liked her that colour, as it suits her complexion. She placed a pad and pencil in my hand and told me to learn shorthand.
The detector found a couple of operating bugs with short distance transmitters in her office and another on the glass of her window, so all meetings were held in the mess of fashionable cafés in the inner Fremantle city area or harbour side where all the expensive yachts were parked, from that time on and Pussy eventually decided I wasn't so coarse. Then she wondered out loud privately to me, which woman I had meant.
I freely admitted I didn't know the things my favourite geek knows, so next day I picked up the girls from school as their favourite bodyguard, and deciding I didn't want an eight hour lecture on the invention of the diode, we took the train to Fremantle and I took them with me into that electronics shop. Geek, who I've decided lives in the shop, had to have my request patiently explained to him three times as he was distracted, just handed me a device one hundred mil square and ten mil thick and a tome the size of one of a medium sized city's phone book, then charged me twenty dollars. He had to charge it through individually as it wasn't in the shops inventory. He almost cried when we left after I shook his hand again. I told the girls to go the rest room, put their panties back on and to roll their tunics down to school acceptable levels, then we headed home. The device had a two thousand dollar sticker on the back so somebody wasn't really focussing on the business in hand.
I noticed the tail in the arcade, for some reason Mousy stands out like a neon sign to me. I scribbled our official home address on a piece of Pussy's note pad and disappeared into a shop front as the girls went on alone. I pulled in beside him as he passes me and he looked, um, surprised. I said, "To save you time and running around, that's our address." I really think he should retire from this business.
The girls and I discussed the whole situation in the train. With people pressing around us like jam in a cheese sandwich, you might as well be completely alone and that phantom scene of that empty bush track crossed my mind; I almost lost it, for just a second. We went to Nina and gave her an affectionate kiss on one set lips or another, me on both, I checked down the road, nothing. Then, deciding that Mousy only looked stupid, I went to the back fence and took a surreptitious peek in each direction and there was Mousy, neon sign in place, setting up a hide in the bushland next to the drain down from my place, where I usually go through to do the around the back swing.
I looked down the road again and a tiny, fifty year old, light blue, rust bucket Fiat, is parked in front of my place so it looks like my place is out of the question at the moment. I sat at the kitchen table and drank the series of coffees Nina made for me, the rest of the time she sat on the floor between my open thighs and resting her cheek upon my thigh, suckled on my quiescent penis that she had she pulled through the legs of my shorts. (These Stubbies shorts are nineteen seventies to eighties vintage and ones' private parts just drop out the legs if you don't wear jockey type underwear. Or mine do anyway. If one wears the current style of undies they are actually bigger in all dimensions than the Stubbies themselves, and are meant to be worn with the current fashion of shorts which come below the knees.) She likes doing that, because as the coffee strikes my bladder, I'd simply fill her mouth. Adele does not understand the fixation the mother and daughter had for my/our urine. Neither do I, but it's their fixation.
Loud noises of disagreement emerged from the direction of Mary's bedroom, then of outright physical fighting. I confronted the two; this was odd as these girls love each other as much as they love me, and it's reciprocated all round. Adele is not mathematically inclined, let's just say it's not her forté, and not a soul will argue with that description; however, she is a far from being stupid. Next year is her highschool leaving year, the WACE or whatever they call it, and she wants to go onto a BA degree in English Literature with minors in Languages, Personnel Management and education as a precursor to teaching high school. It's a good ambition and we all backed her doing it. However, that year, low basic mathematics was a requirement, the same as a mild form, Maths1a, was compulsory next year in her exam then she would never have to rub two numbers together again.
The rub is that for fourteen year old Mary, maths is as natural as breathing and Adele had an exam yesterday where she was marked as having made a mistake and the self-same equation is in her text book simply with different numbers. It had an answer so much different, it may as well been a completely different equation. Mary has the teacher who is in charge of higher mathematics and superior ability students so she understands the subject intimately; others can explain these things, myself having only having been to a school whose Primary School curriculum, was dominated by bible studies.
Mary probably did this standard work in fourth class, Primary, so she did the sum in her head and gave Adele the answer, then did it on paper and used a completely different equation to what Adele was taught; therein lay the argument. Mary said it is the same equation to hers', just simplified. I, old dummy me, looked at the sum Adele did and grabbed a red pen and ringed two numbers in the middle of a longer series of numbers half way down the equation. She had reversed them, sort of 234567 instead of 235467, simple. Mary went over it, then Adele double checked and followed it through to the end and said, "He's right."
I added, "If I was going to do a sum like that if you took this answer," I ringed an early number which was repeated all the way down, "and used that common amount as something else like a letter or a shape or something, then times that letter against the answer down there, you'd get the same answer and save a half a page of fucking around." For some reason they were staring at me as if just grown another head. I pointed at them both, "Strip and suck each other for an hour, I don't want to hear two people who love each other as much as you two do, ever fighting again." It was a hard unreasonable job I gave them, and they fought the order for all the eighteen seconds it took to strip and jump on each other.
Nina made me another cup of coffee and kissed me thoroughly saying, "You're such a good boy." I then began reading Geek's tome and found there was only a paragraph of about fifty words pertaining to the gizmo, and it could have been compressed into, turn on the gizmo, centre it in the room, turn off and unplug everything in that room and remove battery run appliances from target building, press red button. It did add; if the rooms are small pull the house fuses.
I naturally used the detector first, and there was what looked like a Christmas tree lit up in my hand, no matter where in the house you went. I placed anything I could find run by battery into a bag, asked Nina if she could think of anything else and she brought a small powerful transistor radio receiver from Georgio's bed side table. That 'football' shit again for early morning games. Real football was bad enough, that soccer shit was like watching paint dry.
I turned the mains power switches off in the box outside, then I went into each of the rooms, including the front and rear verandas, pressing the red button. Sometimes I got generous and pressed it twice in different ends of a room. I flipped the electrical cut offs back to on, and there wasn't a light showing on the detector. The pussy lickers hadn't even noticed the disruption, which made me smile. I told Nina and she just stared at me with astonishment. It t'was nothin' that any kid with a fourth class education, couldn't aspire to.
I brought all the battery run electrical stuff back inside with me, and asked Nina if she could put this stuff back into their rightful places as I went to the back fence and looked up the drain. There, Mousy was shaking a box and looking up this way. Out the front, the Fiat driver, was walking around the long way carrying a similar box and thrashing his legs at the long grass, outside my place in frustration. The moment he turned the corner I ran to the Fiat and flattened the tyres by releasing the air. I said, 'good afternoon', to the lady two doors down, who was watering her lawn out front, looking puzzled at my actions, and acting nervous about the stalker who came in the Fiat, and then I returned to the girls to wait for eventualities.
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