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From: eskilton@aol.com (ESkilton)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: And 3 Were Foolish - NEW - part 23
Date: 22 Jun 1996 09:13:22 -0400
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This is the twenty third part of a complete novel. The novel was never
published so this is its first
public airing. I have re-worked some of the material and will continue to
do this on a chapter by chapter basis. The story is about three young
girls and their sexual awakening.
WARNING::: This is an ADULT story! ! !
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF CONSENT  ( YAWN) or are likely to be offended
by graphic descriptions of an extreme sexual nature such as Rape, Incest,
and Paedophilia, then GO AWAY! !
(FIDGET) Regular readers of my stories such as BABY SITTING and BROTHERLY
LOVE will know what to expect. (YAWN) IF in doubt, DO NOT READ THIS! !
(ZZZ-ZZZ)

*************************************************************************
* Please respect my rights as the author of this book and refrain from
posting or publishing 
* any part of it without my permission. I have distributed it freely and
ask for no reward       
* other than your enjoyment of it. I am, however, still looking for a
publisher and would be  
* pathetically grateful for everyone's co-operation.                      
                                            
**************************************************************************

To those who are looking for instant gratification, slow down a bit - it
lasts longer.
This is not a short story. (Pretty obvious by now, I'd have thought) 
I have tried to take the time to develop the characters so that their
experiences will be more real. (By now you will know if I succeeded.) If
you're just looking for the sex, some of it's here but it won't be real of
course. Without the other 21 parts the story will make no sense at all and
you've also missed most of the REALLY GOOD sex. (Apart from the orgy of
course)


				And Three Were Foolish

   				by  The Englishman

Part 23

Trish didn't understand what he meant but she nodded as if she did. She
had read that power makes a man sexually attractive and she was
discovering first hand that it was true. The display of erotica had
already stimulated her and Charles Porter's presence was multiplying her
confusion. She found it more difficult to understand why he was so
enamoured of the tiny pornographic figurines, when he could obviously have
his pick of real women. Was it possible that he preferred this to the real
thing? It wasn't a question that she could ask him directly.
"Why would gifted artists put so much time and talent into things like
this?"
He shrugged, "Because wealthy people paid them to I suppose."
"But why? I mean why would people spend so much on what amounts to
expensive pornography?"
"Do you mean why do I spend my money in this fashion?"
Trish blushed with embarrassment and nodded silently.
"I get the feeling that you disapprove of me Miss Roundtree, but it's a
good question and it deserves an answer. By the way you are even more
beautiful when you blush."
The compliment increased the youngster's embarrassment and the flush, that
heated her face, spread down her neck. It didn't stop there. She was
uneasily aware of a rush of blood to her groin and she felt the warmth of
renewed moisture trickle from her vagina. 
She couldn't bring herself to look directly at his face in case he was
able to recognise something in her expression that would reveal her
excited condition. She stared silently at the miniature jade orgy but that
only intensified the emotions that she was trying to hide. 
She squeezed her thighs together tightly - aware of the moisture that was
seeping into her panties and she wished now that she'd worn tights instead
of trying to show off her tanned legs. Charles Porter appeared not to
notice her discomfort. Trish felt her body vibrate like a tuning fork to
the deep assured sound of his voice when he spoke.
"What would you say was the most important thing in any living organism's
existence?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Survival I suppose."
"You're right. Not of the individual necessarily, but certainly survival
of the species. Of course in order for the species to survive it has to do
two things. It has to survive as an individual and reproduce."
Trish found herself nodding in agreement with the simple logic of Porter's
statement though she was acutely aware that she would probably have agreed
with anything he said at this point. 
"So, the irresistible urge to reproduce is the strongest force acting on
any living thing, including plants. In simple terms it needs to feed and
breed."
Trish realised that she was expected to say something and it would not say
much for her intelligence if she simply agreed with him.
"Okay but I don't see what that has to do with pornography"
"What we're discussing is erotica. Pornography is a word that Prime
Ministers, policemen and prudes use."
"Whatever, but you don't need pornography or erotica for survival."
"Right again," he beamed at her, "but we are no longer creatures of
instinct. Humans are capable of more than that. The main thing that
separates us from the lower animals is our imaginations. We can invent and
we can create and appreciate art."
He noticed the puzzled look on Trish's face and went on.
"These paintings and carvings are an expression of our deepest rooted
instincts. The lucky few who can afford to buy objects of art like these
carvings, can also afford the time to indulge in sexual invention. Most
people are too busy struggling to survive to worry about sex as an art
form. For them, sex is just an enjoyable means of reproducing."
"Isn't it then?" Trish asked innocently. "I mean that is what sex is for
isn't it?"
He smiled and squeezed her hand gently before releasing it.
"Of course it is, just as we agreed that eating is vital to staying alive.
That doesn't stop people from going to expensive restaurants if they can
afford to. They eat for pleasure as well as survival and it's the same
with sex.. Nobody ever suggested that a cookery book is pornographic so
why condemn a book about sex. I'm sure that you don't always eat because
you're hungry do you?"
She shook her head. "That's true, I love chocolate."
"I'll try to remember," he said seriously. "I'm equally sure that you
don't intend to breed every time that you make love, do you?"
"I suppose not," replied the youngster, blushing furiously.
"So can you see that by turning the basic needs of life into art forms
that have nothing to do with their original purpose, we can achieve new
pleasures and enhance our lives. I believe that a good lover can do for
sex what a good cook can do for food"
He grinned like a little boy and Trish felt a sensation in her stomach as
if she was on a fast fairground ride. 
"Sometimes you can enjoy both sex and food at the same time - like that
one there."
He pointed to female figurine who was determinedly sucking on a tiny jade
penis. Trish blushed violently and her heart pounded painfully. It was one
of the scenes that she had imagined herself in.
"All I'm saying is that sex is one of life's two main pleasures and it
deserves a better press."
"Like you," said Trish impulsively.
He looked surprised and then laughed.
"It's good to know that you read the newspapers and I'm flattered that you
appear to be on my side."
"I don't agree with censorship if that's what you mean."
"Excellent! So you can appreciate my collection with any puritan hang-ups
then?"
"I'm still not sure about some of them," she said hesitantly.
"I should hope not. Where would we get a living sphinx for you?"
Trish glanced at the figure that he was pointing to and, unsure whether it
was from embarrassment or excitement, she blushed again.
"Now I've embarrassed you haven't I?" He said gently. "Please accept my
apology, I tend to get carried away when I talk to anyone who seems
interested in my collection. Will you forgive my bad manners?"
Trish recovered her composure and forced a smile. The contradictions in
his personality confused and intrigued her. His amiable charm and civility
seemed at odds with his exotic interests and his forthright way of talking
about them. She was afraid that she might have offended him and he hadn't
done anything wrong. It wasn't his fault, how could he know about what had
happened to her and why she was so nervous about sex.
"There's no need to apologise," she said sincerely. "I am interested in
your collection. It's just that I've never seen anything like it before
and I was a bit surprised. I suppose I was expecting something a bit more
- well, conventional."
"More businesslike? More like a Minister of the Crown eh? Or I should say
an ex-Minister I suppose."
"Well, yes."
"Politics is only a game my dear. This is my business."
Trish couldn't hide her look of surprise and Charles Porter explained
hastily.
"I suppose that I could have been a chef but I cannot cook. So my company
deals in the other basic human need. I've spent my working life bringing
sex as an art form to the masses."
"So you sell pornography. No wonder you voted against censorship."
"Erotica my dear. Admittedly, most of it is not in the same class as my
jades - if it was, I'd go broke waiting for a customer who could afford
the prices."
"You don't look as though you're starving."
"On the contrary. Business is extremely good and has been for years."
He glanced at her sharply. "So! Do you want the job?"
"But you don't know anything ... I mean you haven't ..."
"Interviewed you? Yes I have. I've seen and heard all that I need. In fact
I'd already decided to offer you the job when I saw how you handled
Jennings."
 He smiled again at the puzzled expression on her face. 
"Now I've confused you again. It's very simple, there are security cameras
and microphones in the lobby. I like to know who is entering my building,
after all my collection is priceless and it's not the only valuable thing
that's kept here. Come into my office and we'll have a drink while I tell
you about the job, then you can tell me if it appeals to you."
His smile was so infectious and his manner so gentle and considerate that
Trish found herself wanting to do anything he asked in order to please
him. It was all she could do to stop herself from saying, 
'Of course I'll take the job. I don't care what it is' 
His office door faced the lift entrance at the opposite end of the passage
and they were both covered with the same green leather, tooled and studded
like an antique book binding.
Trish trailed a finger over the soft leather.
"That is so beautiful, I've never seen anything like it before."
He stood aside and allowed her to enter first.
"It's not just beautiful, it's practical as well."
"Well, I suppose it saves painting," she said dubiously.
He smiled enigmatically, "That too I suppose"
He indicated a couch that was upholstered with the same green leather as
the door. 
"Make yourself comfortable and I'll pour us a drink. It's a bit early for
anything too strong. Do you mind white wine? I thought we could drink to
your new job."
"But I don't know anything about the job yet and you don't know enough
about me to offer me a job."
"I know all that I need to and I'll explain what I expect of you in a
moment."
Trish sat uneasily on the edge of the couch. She clasped her hands
together so that she wouldn't betray her nervousness by fidgeting. Charles
Porter had behaved impeccably towards her and had done all that he could
to put her at ease but he was a man. She hadn't been alone with a man
since... NO! She shut the thought away quickly and tried to focus on
something, anything in the room that would distract her.
Her senses seemed unusually sharp. Every sight, sound and smell registered
with a sharp impact. The scent of leather mingled with the sharp tang of
oak and polish and filled her nostrils. 
She guessed that Charles Porter had chosen the decor and furnishings
himself. His office reflected his own appearance and personality.
Understated but impeccably groomed - even the corridor was simply an
extension of his office. The same thick carpet covered both seamlessly and
the furniture, though obviously expensive, was conservative.
Apart from the couch that she was occupying and the small cabinet, from
which Charles Porter was pouring drinks, the only other furniture was a
high backed wing chair behind an enormous oak desk which dominated the
room. The chair was upholstered in the ubiquitous green leather. The desk
top was bare except for a blotter and a telephone.
He brought two filled glasses over to the couch. He passed one to Trish
and sat down next to her. Her mind was a jumble of impressions and she was
struggling to think of something intelligent to say to let him know that
she was capable of talking to him on equal terms. He saved her
embarrassment by taking over the conversation.
"So, what can I tell you about the job. It's not difficult or complicated
but it is a bit hard to define. Basically you'll be my personal assistant.
I won't be around a lot of the time so you'll be running the office,
seeing clients, interviewing staff."
"I haven't seen any staff yet," she said. "Do they come in later?"
"They don't work from here - mostly field workers but they'd be reporting
to you when I'm not here. Oh, and the hours can be a bit irregular."
Trish looked at him dubiously. It was difficult to be suspicious of him
when she looked into his face but the whole proposition sounded too good
to be true. The business was not what she would have chosen but he
appeared to be honest and sincere. She had no reason to be wary of him
other than the fact that he was a man. Her experiences with men had taught
her not to believe a word they said and to be even more suspicious of the
things that they didn't say. 
How personal did he expect his personal assistant to be for the sort of
salary that he was offering and what did irregular hours mean? Was that a
polite way of saying that he would expect her to stay the night? She
sipped cautiously from her glass.
"It seems a lot of money for what you've described Mr. Porter," she said
primly.
He laughed gently and almost patted her knee but he withdrew his hand and
grinned an innocent apology.
"I can afford to pay well. The money isn't important to me but if it makes
you feel better I could pay you less."
"I didn't mean that," she said hastily, "I certainly need the money, but
why me? There must be lots of applicants who are better qualified than me"
"I told you, I liked the way the that you handled Frank. It showed courage
and wit and, from your attitude to my jade collection, I've discovered
that you ask sensible questions as well as having an open mind."
His easy manner and the flattering compliments made Trish feel more
confident. She was glad of the chance to impress him. If she ever decided
to go with a man again, it would be with some one just like Charles
Porter.
"Frank wasn't difficult to handle but I will admit he gave me the creeps.
I felt as if he was undressing me with his eyes."
This time his hand did pat her knee. She assumed that he meant it to be a
reassuring gesture. The thought that he was being too familiar crossed her
mind but perhaps she was just being over sensitive. 
"Well of course he was."
"What d'you mean, of course."
His hand was still resting on her bare leg. He continued to talk calmly as
if he was unaware of her smooth skin under his hand. Trish was still
trying to quell the feeling of arousal that the erotic figurines had
generated in her and the touch of his hand on her bare leg wasn't helping.

Trish was too nervous to say anything anyway, but she wondered if this was
how he normally behaved. She decided that it wasn't as important as her
heightened emotions were making her believe. After all the action had
seemed so casual that it would probably have sounded petty to mention it.
"I mean, you're absolutely right. Of course he was undressing you with his
eyes. He was also screwing you with his mind."
"What!"
"He was imagining what it would be like to fuck you Miss Roundtree."
Trish tried not to betray any emotion at Charles Porter's language. She
was sure that members of parliament didn't normally use that sort of
language. With his cultured accent and deep voice the word would have
sounded almost normal if the thought of it hadn't sent an unwanted thrill
through her. It was probably her imagination but she thought that she felt
his hand move on her knee. She was shaking inside but she managed to keep
her voice low and calm.
"You can't say things like that about people. It isn't fair - I mean how
do you know what he was thinking?"
His blue eyes twinkled and the boyish grin reappeared.
"Apart from the fact that you are an extremely beautiful young woman and
it would be natural for any man to have thoughts like that, I happen to
know Frank Jennings very well and I assure you he was thinking about
fucking you."
That word again! Trish trembled as she tried to conceal the effect that
Porter's language was having on her.
"I still think you're being unfair. Just because he's a creep, that
doesn't prove anything."
His hand did move - she was sure of it. The pressure of his palm on her
knee increased slightly as he spoke.
"If you're sure that you're right, how about a small wager?"
"What do you mean? What kind of wager?"
"If I can't prove that I'm right I'll pay a forfeit of your choosing but
if I can prove it, then I choose a forfeit for you."
Trish was sure that, without looking inside the doorman's head, there was
no way of proving what he was thinking. She tried to think of a forfeit
that she could extract from her prospective employer.
"You can't bet on that. There's no way you can prove what he was
thinking."
"So you accept the wager? I knew that I was right about you. You have
courage and I admire that."
Trish nodded nervously. She wasn't sure that she agreed about the courage
but she couldn't refuse the wager now. It would be an admission that she
wasn't as courageous as he thought. She was sure that she was right but
her new employer seemed very confident. 
Without removing his hand from her leg, he pulled a small remote control
from his jacket pocket and pressed a button. The lights dimmed. There was
the faint hum of an electric motor and, on the wall above the drinks
cabinet, an oil painting of a couple engaged in oral lovemaking swung to
one side to reveal a large television screen. A press on another button
and a picture flashed into view. Trish gasped in surprise as she
recognised herself gaping, open mouthed, at the jade figurines.
"Too far," muttered her companion and with another press the picture began
to run backwards. 
He grinned excitedly.
"Part of my security. I did tell you about the security cameras didn't I?
Everything's on tape - damned insurance insist on it. Still it has its
uses I suppose."
Trish watched herself repeating her actions in reverse and wished that she
could do the same with the last four months of her life. The morbid
thought evaporated and she smiled when she saw the shocked look on her
face fade as she walked backwards from the jade figurines to look at the
oil paintings. Then she reversed into the lift. 
There must have been a camera behind the mirror. She watched herself check
her appearance and, grateful that the room was almost dark, she blushed
with embarrassment. The hand on her knee squeezed gently as the scene
shifted to the lobby and  the lift door opened.
Trish backed out of it and confronted the doorman. The novelty of watching
herself in reverse was wearing off and she fidgeted impatiently.
"Okay so I can see the lecherous look on his face but that still doesn't
prove anything about what he's thinking."
"The best bit is still to come. The cameras are also connected to a video
recorder in Frank's office. That means he can watch the same movie as us."
"So if he gets really bored, he can watch me on video. Big deal," she said
impatiently.
"I still don't understand what you're getting at."
"You will - you see, just to complicate things, there is also a camera in
Frank's office. He doesn't know that one exists. Insurance company's idea
of course - they don't trust anyone."
He pressed another button and the scene changed again. Trish saw Frank
Jennings sitting in a swivel chair. The camera was aimed at an angle so
that she could see both the doorman and the television that he was
watching. 
She was there again on the screen downstairs and he was watching her. She
saw herself go through the same motions but this time she was also
watching Frank Jennings watching her. His face was fixed in a lecherous
leer as he followed her movements. He had a remote control in his hand and
he wound the tape back and forth, occasionally pausing the image on the
screen. 
It was flattering watching herself being admired like this and Trish began
to feel some sympathy for the strange pathetic individual in his office.
The images of her on his television were certainly making him fidgety.
With a sudden shock Trish realised that he wasn't fidgeting. He was
stroking his crotch while he studied her image. The pressure from Charles
Porter's hand increased slightly and his index finger caressed her knee
idly with a barely perceptible movement. Trish felt like a voyeur as the
unsuspecting doorman stroked his obvious erection through his trousers.
 There was something forbidden and exciting about the scene and, despite
her dislike for him, she felt her own body respond in sympathy with the
aroused doorman. Then she froze in horror as the doorman unzipped his fly
and pulled his erect penis into view. 
Seeing herself on screen, she felt revulsion and excitement at the same
time as she watched the doorman use her image to feed his fantasy. It was
as if the girl on the screen was somebody else. An innocent young girl who
was being used unknowingly by a hidden admirer.
She felt guilty at spying on the unsuspecting doorman but she couldn't
look away. She watched in hypnotised silence, afraid to breathe, as he
began to masturbate. He was masturbating over her image on the screen and
she was watching him do it. Trish was unable to take her eyes from the
scene - she was mesmerised and stimulated by the thought that she was the
object of his desires. Her breath grew shorter and she felt a familiar
warmth as the moisture between her legs increased. 


To be continued

The Englishman.

About 2 - 3  parts left to go.
Now would be a great time to fill out a short note to let me know how it's
going. 
Are you confused - excited - bored rigid - just rigid?
Is it heading where you expected?
Is it too much/too little/ too long/ too short?
Too explicit/too tame/too predictable/ too Twin Peaks.
Believable/Absolutely not believable/Who gives a shit.

A little adulation and Ego massaging never goes amiss either.

Oh BUGG-ER !.....  The ORGY - went clean out of my mind.
 I'm rea-lly sorry

...honest !

