Sam Mullone And The Missing Drugs Ch 02

2. The Good Doctor

The cold grey light of dawn squeezed through a thin gap in the bedroom curtains as Sandra rolled over and draped an arm over her partner, Alan. She snuggled in behind him, pressing her soft, warm curves against his lean back. She slowly slid her hand slid down over his stomach to gently fondle him through his pyjama bottoms.

It had been weeks since they'd made love and she soon felt herself becoming aroused as she felt his cock thicken. As Alan stirred from his sleep, she slipped her nightgown higher, pressing her full boobs into his back. She nibbled his earlobe softly as she ran a hand over the firm planes of his chest.

"Sandra," he moaned softly as she felt his body begin to move restlessly. "Sandra, I'm sorry, I've got to get into work early today," he sighed, taking her hand in his and placing it on her hip as he rolled out from under the duvet.

"Sure," she groaned, tugging her nightgown back down and already looking forward to her tennis lesson.

---

Sam was bored. She'd been following Pirate Bob around all day, hoping that she'd be able to find out who was supplying him with the 'Bunny'. Steve had given her his address, which wasn't strictly legal but he'd seemed more than grateful after his very satisfying evening with her.

Pirate Bob lived in a squat in an ugly grey apartment block on the edge of town. He hadn't left the block till midday and she'd been following ever since. It was quite risky as he'd know her from the night before, but she hoped he wouldn't recognise her dressed in jeans and an old grey t-shirt with her face free of makeup and her chestnut hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She kept at a safe distance as he ambled the less respectable backstreets of Fentonbridge going from a greasy-looking fried chicken shop to a seedy pub to a bookie's. This job was starting to remind her of her first job after she left the force; investigating cases of fraud for a large insurance company. She'd done that for a year, before getting her licence and going solo.

She was leaning against a wall and enjoying the warmth of the autumn sunshine on her face as she observed the bookmakers and wondering if there was something more useful she could be doing, when her mobile rang.

"Hello? Terry?" she said.

Terry was an old friend who had retired from the police last year, but still made a little cash by doing odd jobs for her and other investigators in the area.

"Yeah, hi Sam. I've done the background check on the first name on your list, Dr Alan Hemmings. Is now a good time?"

"Yeah, now's a very good time," she said, staring at the closed door of the bookmakers.

"Ok, so Dr Hemmings is forty-five years old, divorced with two kids, a boy aged seven and a girl aged five. He left his wife two years ago for his mistress, Sandra.

He's currently sharing a house with her in Deanton, and I hear his ex-wife got the kids and took him to the cleaners in the divorce settlement. He's worked for Kleinwert for ten years, and has worked at other labs in the area since he left Cambridge University with a first in Chemistry. I can't find any convictions, as far as I can tell he's never been in any kind of trouble, not even a parking ticket."

"OK, good. How are his finances?"

"Well, he's got a decent salary at Kleinwert but I hear he has to give his ex-wife quite a lot of child support."

"So he could be tempted by some extra cash?"

"Maybe. I'll call in a favour and see if I can get one of my old colleagues to check over his financial records."

"Great. Any hobbies or interests?" Sam said, as she watched Pirate Bob emerge from the bookies, squinting in the bright sunshine.

"No, seems like he's married to his job. Does a bit of hiking."

"What about his partner, Sandra?"

"She's works part-time as a counsellor, and is thirty-five years old. She's a keen tennis player, spends a lot of time down at her local club."

"Okay, thanks, listen I've got to go."

"Okay, I'll check out the next name on the list and get back to you," he said, before the line went dead.

She followed Bob up to the park, taking up a position behind him, casually leaning against a tree as she pretended to use her mobile. He was dressed in black jeans and a grubby-looking t-shirt and she watched as he sprawled casually on a bright green park bench, his skinny legs wide apart as he glanced at his watch.

Before long, a tall, elegant young woman approached and sat next to him. She wore a yellow sundress, large sunglasses and, despite the heat, a green silk headscarf from which a few tendrils of platinum blonde hair escaped. They exchanged a few hurried words, before she pushed a white plastic bag towards him and he, in return, slid a brown envelope towards her. She quickly grabbed it and, without another word, strode quickly away along the grey tarmac path towards the exit.

As she followed at a discrete distance, Sam wondered who the mysterious blonde was. She didn't look like any of the photo's she'd seen of Kleinwert employees.

"Damn!" she swore under her breath as she rounded the corner just in time to see the woman slipping into the back of a taxi. She got her notepad out of the back pocket of her jeans and scribbled down the number plate. Another job for Terry, she thought.

Well, if she couldn't follow the lady, she'd have to follow Bob. She turned back the way she'd come and caught up with him as he exited the park on the other side. She hurried after him, into the maze of tiny backstreets in the older part of town, just in time to see him turn right at the end of a narrow street. She jogged after him, desperate not to lose him. As she turned right, she felt her arm being yanked violently, swinging her around so that her back thudded painfully against a grimy wall.

"Now, why is you following me, bitch?" Pirate Bob said, pinning her back against the brick. His face was so close she could smell of beer and fried chicken on his breath.

"Let me go, you're hurting me!" Sam exclaimed, trying to wriggle free of his grip. Her instinct was urging her to bring her knee up hard between his legs, but she resisted.

"Wait a minute, I knows you. You is that lady at the club last night, yeah?" he continued in his strange part-Jamaican, part-Norfolk accent.

"Yes, um, I saw you earlier and I wanted to know if you had any more that stuff. Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you," she said, anxiously.

"But you been following me all day," he said, his eyes narrowing as if he could peer into her mind, and tell if she was lying.

"Yes, but I was a bit nervous. I wanted to catch you alone," she improvised.

A slow gap-toothed smile spread across his face and he eased his grip, stepping back.

"Yeah, I gets it. A nice lady like you, don't want to be seen with a nasty gangsta like me, yeah?"

"Right, and those drugs, well, the results were spectacular," Sam said, nodding, a rather distracting image of Steve's obscenely large prick springing into her mind.

"Yeah, I told you, didn't I?" he said, triumphantly. "Knew you'd be back for more. You had a good night then, yeah? Your boyfriend up for it?"

"Yes," she said, smiling and trying not to blush too much. "So, you know, I'd like some more, if you've got some."

"Well you is in luck, lady. I just got myself a fresh batch, how many you want?"

"Um, four?" Sam said, trying to remember how much cash she had.

"Here you go, lady," he said, pushing the pills into her hand, and taking the money. "And next time, just see me down at Suzie's instead of chasing me down alleys, yeah?"

---

Sandra Jennings perched on the bar stool, her plump pink lips wrapped around a straw, her flushed cheeks hollowing as she drew the deliciously icy lemonade into her mouth. It had been so hot out there on the court that her instructor Todd had taken pity on her, cutting the session short and offering to buy her a drink instead.

"Man, I'm all hot and sweaty and disgusting!" she said, running a hand through her blonde curls and plucking at her white tennis shirt. It clung damply to her good-sized breasts, and she watched a sexy grin form on Todd's handsome face as he slowly ran his eyes over her hot body, from her shirt down over her short, pleated powder blue skirt, over her bare, tanned legs to her cute white trainers and ankle socks.

"We could go back to my place and shower there," he suggested. "It's not far."

Sandra knew it wasn't far: she'd gone back to his flat for 'a shower' several times now, and knew he had more than a shower in mind.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," she said, taking another sip of her drink. In fact, after the morning's disappointment, she'd already decided to go back with him but felt she ought to at least put up a token struggle, make him work for it, like he made her work on the tennis court. Besides, building the anticipation like this always made him grateful and eager to please with that wicked tongue of his.

"Come on, I promise I'll be a good boy," he said, leaning a little closer and resting a hand on her knee. She was seated, whilst he was standing next to her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his young body as he gently squeezed her knee. He was a good-looking man, with the kind of muscular chest, chunky biceps and solid thighs that came from playing tennis every day. She'd be willing to bet that all the other women that came here for lessons felt the same way.

"Well, if you're going to be good, there's hardly any point," she teased, letting her eyes drift down over his chunky body to where his spotlessly white shorts contrasted with his tanned thighs.

"I can be bad too," he said, drawing little circles on her bare leg with a fingertip.

"Don't! Someone will see!" she whispered, squirming a little.

He grinned, ignoring her, his finger causing hot tingles to dance over her skin.

"Stop that!" she hissed, squeezing her knees together.

"I can't help it, you drive me crazy," he said smoothly, and she couldn't help wondering if he used that line with the other women he coached.

"Come on Todd, we shouldn't, not here. Someone might see. We're supposed to be having a lesson," she whispered, leaning to one side and glancing nervously around his broad shoulders. There were in a dim corner of the tennis club's bar with Todd's large frame blocking her from the other customers. It was quiet, even for a Wednesday afternoon, and she was relieved no one seemed to be taking any notice as she felt him slide his hand a little higher, slipping unchecked beneath her short tennis skirt.

"Come back to my place then, I'm sure I can teach you a thing or two. Or maybe you can teach me," he said.

"Stop it!" Sandra hissed. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist but failed to stop his fingers exploring the smooth, sensitive skin beneath her skirt. She shivered as he stroked her hot inner thighs causing dangerous thoughts to form in her head, and forbidden feelings to dance up and down her spine. The bar stool was quite tall, making them roughly the same height, and she found herself staring at his face, as his twinkling chocolate brown eyes dared her to stop him.

"This is so wrong," she said, wriggling a little uncomfortably as he gently but firmly eased her knees apart and watched his lips curl into a mischievous grin as his fingers slid higher still. She caught her breath, feeling a moist warmth gathering as his wicked fingers traced the edge of her white cotton panties. She felt bad about cheating on Alan, but reasoned that this was partially his fault. If he had a little more stamina in bed and actually made her orgasm once in a while, she wouldn't be so damn horny all the time. But, on the rare occasions they made love, he always so wimpy and finished way too early. As she'd confessed to a girlfriend after one-too-many glasses of wine, making love with Alan was all "thrust, thrust, squirt".

"I bet I could make you cum right here," he whispered, his eyes sparkling mischievously. His restless fingers were brushing against her panties now, stroking her swollen lips through the damp cotton bringing a soft mew of pleasure from her lips.

"No," she said, unwilling to admit how aroused she was, unwilling to admit that he was right.

"Fooling around like this in public turns you on, doesn't it? Come on, admit it," he said.

"Stop, please Todd," she moaned, closing her eyes, unable to meet his knowing gaze. She had a sudden image of him sliding her panties down over her hot thighs, tugging them off over her white trainers and stuffing them in his pocket, removing the last barrier between his fingers and her throbbing pussy. The thought of him freely exploring her slick folds as she sank her teeth into his shoulder to suppress her hot sobs of pleasure, making her climax here in this public bar like a common slut was so naughty and dangerous that it left her feeling giddy.

She ran a hand up over his arm, and squeezed his shoulder as she felt his thumb stroking her through her damp knickers. As her body surrendered to the delicious sensations, she noticed the bartender running a damp cloth along the long mahogany bar as he drifted towards them. Regaining her senses, she sat up straight, crossing her legs and quickly tugged her skirt back down.

"Anything else to drink, folks?" he asked cheerily.

"No, I think I've had plenty, we're just going," Sandra said, grabbing her handbag and heading for the door as Todd followed, grinning triumphantly.

Twenty minutes later, she was lying back on his bed, her hands hooked under her knees, her feet waving in the air as her young tennis coach licked her shamefully wet pussy enthusiastically. Through half-open eyes she could see a trail of discarded clothes leading to his bed, and his semi-erect cock swaying heavily between his muscular thighs, a promise of things to come. She ran a hand through his dark, curly hair and moaned contentedly, letting her feelings of guilt be swept away by the sheer pleasure.

---

Dr Alan Hemmings rolled the pill between his fingers as he examined it. It was small and smooth and appeared to be perfectly black, but the edges had a deep vermillion sheen when he held it up to the dim light of his study. There was strict security at the lab but he'd managed to smuggle three of the precious pills out by hiding them in the half-eaten bean salad that Sandra had prepared for his lunch, amongst the kidney beans and black olives.

Sandra had said she was tired before going to bed early and now the house was quiet and still. He wasn't surprised she was tired; the private detective he'd hired had told him she'd spent more than an hour at her tennis coach's flat. Of course, he'd suspected she'd been having an affair for some time, but he was still shocked to hear it from someone else, to see the pictures of them laughing and joking together as they strolled back to his flat. He picked up the photo's that were scattered over his desk, shuffling them together, and rapping them against the desk so they formed a neat stack before slotting them into the bottom drawer of his desk.

Although he was angry with her, he was mature enough to accept that part of the blame was his. His problem with premature ejaculation had caused him to lose confidence in bed, reluctant to start something he might not finish properly. Still that was going to change starting tonight he thought to himself as he popped the pill into his mouth, noting the faint taste of vinaigrette before swallowing it with the remains of his red wine.

He crept upstairs and stripped naked, being careful not to lose his balance or knock anything over in the darkened bedroom. Sandra was lightly snoring, lying half on her side and he slipped smoothly under the light summer duvet, pressing his body up against her back. It was a warm night, and she was only wearing a thin pair of panties. Alan wrapped an arm around her stomach, his cock already stirring as he gently rubbed it against the silky material, pressing himself into the groove formed by her plump buttocks.

Sandra had lovely breasts; he always said he'd first noticed her large blue eyes but if he was honest it was her boobs. He slowly slid his hand up over the taut skin of her stomach and began to caress them in the intense darkness, using his fingers to explore their plump shape as if he were a blind man feeling them for the first time.

"Not now Alan, I told you I'm tired," Sandra mumbled, but didn't stop him as he gently fondled one of her boobs, testing their soft firmness, weighing it in his palm.

"Come on, I'm trying to sleep," she complained as he left a trail of warm kisses along the soft skin of her shoulder and neck.

Despite her protests, Alan could sense her body becoming aroused, pressing back against him a little now, as he ran a fingertip around her nipple, feeling it come alive as he teased her.

"No, don't," she whined as he sucked at her earlobe and flicked a moist fingertip back and forth across her nipple, coaxing it to full hardness. His eyes had adjusted a little, but it was still very dark and he had to rely on his other senses: inhaling the faint smell of her perfume clinging to her neck, feeling the silky smoothness of her skin.

He ran his hand over her body, exploring all its familiar curves and planes causing her to move restlessly, her bottom pushing back against him. He was quite hard now, enjoying the soft warmth of her body as he slowly rubbed against her, enjoying the friction, feeling his cock swell hotly.

"Oh Alan," she was moaning as he used one hand to toy with her breasts whilst the other slipped between her warm thighs, and slowly stroked her thorough her skimpy panties. He knew she always preferred this teasing, gradual build up and he took it slowly, gently caressing and stroking her naked skin as she moaned contentedly, still half-asleep. They hadn't made love like this for a while, and soon her body was wriggling happily in his arms as she purred like a contented cat.

"You're so sexy," he whispered, his lips brushing her ear as he tugged at the waistband of her knickers and eased them over her rounded thighs as she lifted her hips.

"Christ, you're making me so hot," she said as he began to stroke her slick pussy lips, spreading her honey along the length of her crease.

"Jeez, you feel so big!" she gasped as she reached behind and wrapped her slender fingers around his shaft, skilfully stroking him to full hardness as their bodies ground together.

She shifted position, parting her legs a little as she positioned his thick cock in between. They both moaned happily as he began to rock his hips back and forth, his long, throbbing cock sliding along her moist groove.

"Play with my nipples," she panted, as she slid a hand between her thighs and started stroking the wet, inflamed folds of her pussy, her fingers moving in slow circles as his prick continued to slide against her.

"Yes, that's so good," she hissed as he collected saliva on his fingertips, and spread it over one of her pert little nipples, plucking at it with a thumb and forefinger as she arched her back.

Alan kissed and nibbled at her neck as he played with her nipples, sometimes flicking at them with his fingertips, sometimes gently squeezing and twisting them, and soon Sandra's breath was coming in short gasps, punctuated with desperate sighs.

As her breathing quickened, she reached between her legs, grasping his rock-hard dick and pressing the swollen head against her pussy.

"God, you feel so big, not too fast," she gasped happily, as he gradually eased himself inside her molten centre, savouring the feel of her tightly clasping lips. With his extra size, her pussy felt as tight as a virgin's!

Alan grasped her knee, easing it upwards, spreading her thighs as he began to ease the swollen end of his cock in and out. Although it was pleasurable, the sensations weren't as intense as they usually were and he enjoyed Sandra's hot mews of surprise as her lips stretched to accommodate him.