Roland DeForrest - The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey

She was just working his member up into a healthy-sized hard-on when the second guard stuck a sour face into the room to see what the hell was going on. He was so surprised to see her sucking away that he stepped into the room to castigate the first guard. Not missing a stroke with her mouth, she reached for the newcomer’s hand and pulled him toward her. In one deft movement she unzipped him and pulled his cock out also. As the two men stared down in pleased astonishment, she began alternating her attention, first sucking on one, then on the other. Back and forth she went, her mouth like a metronome, her hands caressing and tugging and stroking. Their, cocks, like their bodies, were a perfect matched set-thick and stubby. Their short, powerful legs were splayed wide, and their barrel chests were heaving under their tight suitcoats. Each had a sweaty hand jammed down inside her dress, cupping one of her breasts, tweaking and pinching her distended nipples.

With a burst of air through his squashed nose, the first guard came in her mouth. Immediately, as he pushed his thick dick back into his pants to zip up, she inhaled the second cock, washing it with the semen of the first. This guard, however, was more dedicated to his chosen profession. At once he growled at the first to go check the girl. Honey, realizing that Dirk must have had enough time by then to speak to Kolina alone, did not bother to finish off the second guard. Pretending a coughing fit, she gagged on his cock and, gasping for air, stood, wiping her mouth apologetically. He frowned in disappointment and made a grab for her pussy. She let him have a quick feel before pushing him away. He muttered in French that she was a damned whore and she laughed gaily, hurrying out of the room, losing herself quickly in the milling mob lined up to place bets.

As planned, she met Dirk in the private lounge reserved for members. “What’d you do in the first-aid room?” he demanded as she reached his table.

She winked. “That’s irrelevant. Did you get to Kolina?”

Glumly he nodded and took a healthy swallow of his Scotch and water. “Just as I expected. She is being held against her will. She recognized me at once and ran right to me, begging for help.”

“Why didn’t you whisk her off right then? I sure as hell gave you enough time.”

“I was going to, but Bouscaral showed up,” he growled, and downed his drink.

“Henri’s here? Where?”

“How the hell should I know? He just appeared and grabbed hold of her and hustled her away. Goddamn, Honey, we were so close to getting her. And now she’s lost again. Maybe this time forever.”

She patted his shoulder, speaking softly. “Nothing’s forever, Dirk. We’ll find her. And this time we’ll get her away for good.” She pulled him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go thank our host, the Major General, and get back to the hotel. If Bouscaral’s in Hong Kong, he can’t go far, can he?”

* * *

They returned to the Shangri-La Hotel in Honey’s rented Bentley limousine, and as Dirk hurried into the phone booth to begin checking with the other five-star hotels, she went to the front desk. “Do you have Henri Bouscaral registered?”

The polite young man checked his registry. “Yes we do, miss. Are you here for an interview with him?”

“Well, yes I am,” she said quickly. “Tell me, what is he looking for?”

“A governess for his niece, I believe. But he’s requested that only French-speaking women apply.”

“ Tres bien . Would you make an appointment for me? My name is Claudine Fortel.”

Honey did not tell Dirk of the propitious new opportunity until they were upstairs in the double suite of adjoining rooms she had booked earlier for them. As she hurriedly undressed in her bedroom, she shouted through the open door, explaining her new plan, concluding with, “So I’ve got till six tonight to become Claudine.”

Dirk rushed to the open doorway, obviously upset. “I’m not going to let you do this, Honey. It’s too dangerous. You have no idea what this jerk is like.”

Dressed only in her French-cut panties, she pawed through her closet of traveling clothes. “I should wear something sedate, shouldn’t I? Don’t want him to think I’m too worldly.”

“Dammit, Honey,” he railed. “You’re not going through with this.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” she teased, and yanked out a black crepe dress with a matching box jacket. “This should do. I doubt he’ll recognize it as an original Yves St. Laurent.”

He ran to her, jerking her around by the arm to face him. “What about the guards? They’ll recognize you in a flash.”

She smiled sweetly. “I plan to dye my hair. What do you think of a seal brown? Or should it be stark black?”

“Bouscaral is a goddamned pervert,” he shouted. “A kidnapper and a raper of innocent girls. Who knows what else? He’s the Prince of Kink, remember?”

“I’m perfectly aware of all that,” she said softly. “You’re a sweet thing to worry about me. But don’t, okay? I know what I’m doing. Just think of Kolina. If I can land this job, I’ll be perfectly situated to help her escape.” One arm covering her full white breasts, she kissed him on the lips and brushed back a lock of stubborn hair from his forehead. “It’s too good an opportunity to pass up. It’s our lucky day, Dirk. I won back on lucky number seven the three grand you blew in Shanghai, and you found Kolina again. And now this lucky chance. We’re on a roll, baby, we’re on a roll. Let’s go for it.”

Two hours later, Honey had completed the major portion of her physical transformation into Claudine Fortel. In the luxuriously large bathroom of her hotel suite, she had dyed her dark red hair a deep seal brown and, after it had dried, pulled it back tightly off her exquisite face, sweeping its healthy thickness into a flattering French roll, leaving wisply tendrils around her face to soften the severity. As her brows and lashes were naturally a deep auburn, she left them that way and had applied a minimal amount of makeup, a mere hint of cheek blush and a pale lipgloss.

Standing before the full-length mirrors, still clad only in her pink bikini underwear, she narrowed her eyes and surveyed the results with growing satisfaction. “Goodbye, Honey,” she murmured to her image. “Hello, Claudine.” She was about to dress when she thought of one additional matter-something that would give her away to the more intimate viewer. Slipping off her panties, she scissored away her fiery red bush and then, lathering her entire mons veneris, carefully shaved it as clean as a baby’s. Satisfied that there was little else that hinted at her former self-except her voluptuous figure-she struggled into a brassiere two sizes too small, pushing and mashing her full breasts into the uncomfortable confines.

A short time later she emerged fully dressed and fully transformed, a pair of hastily purchased black-rimmed glasses adding the final schoolmarmish touch. Smoothing the trim skirt of the sedate black crepe dress, she walked primly into Dirk’s adjoining suite and waited silently for him to turn away from the window. She cleared her throat to attract his attention and he swung to her, his eyes growing wide with disbelief. “My God…” he sputtered.

“No… mon Dieu ,” she replied with a half smile. Gracefully she pirouetted for him and with amusement watched the color return to his amazed face.

“I… I can’t believe it,” he muttered finally, shaking his head.

“ Tres, tres bien ,” she replied, even her voice taking on another quality, more reserved, less confident. “If it meets your approval, I’ll be off. Claudine/Fortel has a most important interview in less than ten minutes.”