In the heyday of the Hippie Counterculture, Jim, a disaffected postgraduate, goes on a rural retreat in quest of his identity. He finds a cool alternative abode, which initiates in a bizarre relationship with the housemother, Celia, who turns out to be an undercover police officer, but also with dubious connections. Things develop, including a delicious one—off with Celia, and Jim is drawn towards the edges of nefarious activity. He ends up waiting for his Barrister, convinced he will clear him.
Excerpt
She looked me straight in the face with a cold, penetrating glare. “You responded to the bait. I’ve got you cornered and there’s no escape. I’m undercover police, keeping an eye on anything suspicious. As you know, there’s quite a lot of trafficking going on at these festivals. The most unlikely looking people, the least eccentric and suspicious, can be involved with it. So, I’ve got to search you, darling, though I have to say, you’re a very presentable man for a search.”
She did a deft, delicate examination of my pockets.
“All pristine pure there, darling.”
Then, with equal dexterity, she peeled off my layers of clothing. The hardness of her eyes mellowed with the sight of my body. Celia squeezed my waist.
“Quite presentable, darling. You’re a welcome arrival. I’ve got my job to do, and have to keep up my cool, detached interface. But one still has one’s needs, one’s desires . . .”
“It gives me great uplift to be laid bare as squeaky clean. Could I assume the identity of another undercover policeman, and do the same for you?”
She spread out her arms as if to beckon me. The gown lifted easily. On gentle probing, her bra, girdle, and corset revealed no hidden packages.
“I’d love us to do that again some time,” I said. “Perhaps next time we could start with uniforms."
1 comment:
Sounds great, Lindsay. Lots of sales with this one, you deserve it.
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