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Subject: {ASSM} The 69 Nymphs (FF,MF,nc) Pulp Story!
Date: Sun, 13 Apr 2003 23:10:02 -0400
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The Sixty-Nine Nymphs

Some very determined men had a secret they wanted kept at any cost.
Sturdy Englishwoman Ann Paget wanted no part of it--but couldn't help
herself.


DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by sexually
explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading now. This
material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes without the
consent of the author.

Find more pulp stories and cover art at http://www.pulperotica.com


The Sixty-Nine Nymphs

(FF, MF, nc)
By: Punchinello


Welsh countryside, 1934

As the train pulled into Glwythdilog station, Ann Paget slipped off
and ducked into the station. She dodged her pursuers and ducked around
a corner. There, just across the green, was a little country inn,
fairly glowing with friendly lights. The soft sound of a music hall
melody wafted across to her where she cowered in the shadows.

Throwing a wary glance over her shoulder, the raven-haired beauty
picked up her skirt and dashed across the quiet green toward the inn,
one hand on her breasts to try to keep them from heaving so much under
her blouse. At the doorway, she paused to peer back through the gloom,
trying to see if her pursuers had noticed her escape.

There, emerging from the shadows of the station and into the pale
lamplight of the platform were two broad-shouldered men in trench
coats and derbies. Surely they couldn't see her, Ann reasoned, yet
they seemed to be staring into her mortal soul. Indeed, in a moment,
they started toward the inn.

Ann gasped in a terrified panic and rushed inside. There, she threw
herself back against the door and stared about her at the inn's
patrons and staff. The music had come to a crashing halt, the
musicians and singers frozen in mid-harmony.

Ann took a deep breath and smoothed her jet-black hair. "It's quite
threatening to unleash a downpour," she said with false detachment.

"I say! Is it?" asked one startled gentlemen near the piano.

Ann strode gracefully across the room, past the front desk, trying
desperately to contain the fear welling up insider her. She slipped
out of her coat as she went and pulled her hat off, hoping against
hope that if the men came in, she would blend in with the other
patrons. Then, as she reached the foot of the stairs to the rooms
above, Ann went quickly up into the relief of the shadows.

As she reached the top of the stairs, she turned back to find the door
of the inn opening. Panic struck again, and Ann rushed down the hall,
nearly colliding with a striking girl with flowing blonde hair.

"Oh, my! I'm so sorry, miss!" the little blonde gushed, putting her
hand to the front of her pink cotton pajamas. She had just come out of
the loo at the end of the corridor. She wore rather posh pajamas and
clutched a toothbrush and tin of tooth polish in one hand.

"You must to help me! Oh, you absolutely must!" Ann whimpered.

"My goodness! What is it, dear? Oh, you're shaking like a leaf!" The
girl put her arm around Ann to comfort her.

"Two men are after me!" the panicked brunette gushed, wringing her hat
in her hands.

The slender blonde patted her gently. "Oh my! What for?"

"They think I have a list of some kind that belongs them."

They went to the top of the stair and peeked around the corner. "Oh!
There they are!" the blonde girl exclaimed. "My word, what brutes!"

The two young women could see them now, the rough-looking men who had
pursued Ann on the train, as they came up the stairs. "We can't go
back without the list," one said in a rough London voice.

"If she goes to the coppers about the sixty-nine nymphs, we're all
done for--the whole operation," said the other in a rough accent from
the north of England.

"Oh, please hide me. You must hide me," Ann pleaded. "I'm half out of
my wits."

The blonde girl turned away and ushered Ann into her room, saying, "Go
into my room, quickly!" She closed the door behind them and turned the
lock. "Stay quiet, darling. They're coming this way." Ann dropped her
coat and hat on the chair next to the door as the girl grasped her arm
again. They both sank to the floor in front of the door, trying in
vain to peep through the keyhole or the past the crack in the door,
but there was no way to see out.

The two women huddled together in the dim room, crouched against the
door, as if their slender bodies could hope to hold back an onslaught
from the two hulking goons who prowled the corridor beyond. They
listened intently at the heavy footsteps approaching. Ann could feel
the girl's heart pounding against her chest and knew her young
protector could feel it too.

"It's a heavy door," the pretty girl whispered.

Ann couldn't help but marvel for a moment at the striking beauty of
the strange girl who held her so close. She gazed on the pink fullness
of her clean, unpainted lips and the wide wonder of her bright eyes
with their long, pale lashes. The girl, perhaps all of twenty or
so--five years younger than Ann--gazed back with sympathy and support
and patted her hand reassuringly. Ann looked away, nibbling her lip
anxiously, but only found herself staring down upon the little swell
of pale breast showing inside the girl's loose pajama top, and then
down further at her slender bare feet, with their long toes with the
nails painted pink.

"They've stopped," Ann breathed, hardly more than mouthing the words.

The girl pulled Ann very close to whisper right in her ear. "They're
listening." Ann whimpered. Their breasts brushed together; Ann's were
much bigger, but the blonde was a frail little thing.

A hand tried the doorknob. The brunette and the young blonde woman
clung to each other, stranger to stranger, in stark terror, their
hearts pounding in their chests like kettle drums.

The lock held, and the thugs didn't try to put a shoulder to the door.
But neither did footsteps indicate their leaving. "What's your name?"
the little blonde whispered.

"Ann," replied the dark-haired woman.

"Ann, I have an idea," the girl whispered. They pressed very close
again, like lovers whispering sweet nothings. "We'll pretend we're
just married."

"What? The two of us?" Ann puzzled.

"They shan't think you've hidden in a room with an amorous couple, now
shall they?"

Ann pondered for a moment. It was a good plan. "Who shall be the man,
then?"

"You do it," the girl suggested. "I'm quite a schoolgirl when it comes
to play-acting."

"All right, then," Ann agreed. She was quite dazzled by the blonde's
good looks. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of her feelings.

"Oh Ronald!" the girl cried suddenly. And she threw her arms around
Ann and kissed her noisily on the cheek and neck. "Oh! Take me in your
arms!"

Ann didn't know how to react at first. She took a deep breath and put
on a deep, manly voice. "Oh--" she began. But she suddenly realized
that she didn't know the girl's name. "--darling!" she finished.

"Myra!" the girl whispered.

"Oh!" said Ann. And, "Oh!" again when Myra pinched her bottom.

"Kiss me, darling!" Myra cried. And she pulled Ann to her.

Ann kissed the girl softly on the throat and the side of her neck
under her ear where tiny blonde hairs covered soft, warm flesh. The
feeling made the blood rush to her head. "Oh yes!" Myra said. Then her
voice fell, "Louder! It won't do if they can't hear us!"

"Oh!" said Ann in her gruff voice. "My darling Myra!" And she kissed
the girl hotly and loudly on the cheek and ear.

Myra responded eagerly. "Oh Ronald! I'm breathless, darling! Take me
now!"

"Shall we go to the bed?" Ann asked quietly, holding her thin girl
loosely in her arms. "They'll know it if we aren't crying out from the
bed."

"Oh!" Myra called in a girlish moan. "Yes! Throw me down on the bed,
Ronald! Do it! Use me roughly!"

"Really?" Ann quizzed, rising.

Myra leaped onto the bed and fell back with open arms. "Come to me,
darling! Make love to me at last!" She was singularly enticing in her
loose pajamas, barely concealing her little bosoms, her flushed skin.

Ann suddenly knew the pang of desire men felt for beautiful women. She
wondered if the men she had known has ached for her in the same way.
"My God, you're beautiful!" she declared in her manly tone.

"Take off your things, darling," Myra urged. "Toss them on the floor!"
Ann froze, unable to know what to do. "Your shoes!" Myra hissed. "Toss
them off quick, sweetheart!"

Obediently, Myra slipped off her shoes and dropped them with a thud on
the floor by the bed. Then she stood by, gazing this way and that,
entirely unsure again. Did the girl mean for her to strip off? "Make
llllove to me!" Myra squealed, and pulled Ann onto the bed.

"Goodness!" gasped Ann.

"Oh Ronald! I love you," Myra fairly shouted. "I love you with all my
heart! Now have my body as well!" And she pressed hot kisses all over
Ann's neck, face, and mouth. Her kisses seemed sincere--they certainly
heated Ann's blood.

"Oh, Myra! I've-- I've dreamed of this!" Ann gushed huskily. She pawed
at the beautiful blonde, taking her fully in her arms.

"Oh Ronald!" the girl cried. "Take me now! I must have it! I must! Oh,
how your mustache tickles, darling!" The two young women giggled and
groped each other. Myra's slim body was a like a cat's: taut and
athletic. It quickened Ann's pulse in a way she hadn't imagined
possible before. Myra's hands grasped Ann's round bottom. "Ooh," she
cooed softly.

"Goodness!" Ann gasped.

"Take off these clothes, darling!" Myra demanded, pushing Ann's
clothes off her, opening her blouse. "Oh my," she murmured, feeling
Ann's curvaceous form. "You're quite bosomy!"

"Oh darling!" Ann said. "I want to feel you against me!"

It was true. Ann was lusty for the girl. She had never known such
desperate desire--and certainly not for another woman! In a moment,
her skirt and slip lay on the floor with her blouse. She lay atop the
pretty blonde Myra in a sudden heat. Their kisses became hot kisses of
passion, falling on eager lips and tasting equal eagerness. Myra's
pajama top fell open, revealing her beautiful breasts, with pink,
point nipples.

"Oh, my sweet Myra; you're beautiful."

"Don't stop now, darling. Kiss my bosoms," the girl begged. "You're
driving me mad!" Ann did, kissing and licking, even suckling the soft
pink buds. Myra swooned with the pleasure, unable now to unclasp the
brassiere that bound Ann's fuller breasts. But Ann unsnapped her
brassiere herself and slipped out of it in a moment, even as she
continued to fondle and tease Myra.

"Oh, they're beautiful!" Myra breathed. "Let me hold them!" She
weighed Ann's big tits in her hand, brushing the nipples with her
thumbs. "Wonderful!" she gushed.

They kissed again, pressing their naked bosoms together, reveling in
the pleasure of their naked flesh. But they weren't fully naked yet.
Ann still wore her stockings and knickers and Myra her pajama bottoms.
Ann slid down the length of Myra's slender body, kissing her way down
her breasts, her nipples, her flat belly, to waistband of her pajama.
She glanced up at the young girl for a moment before biting lightly at
the drawstring and pulling it loose.

Myra gave a sighing moan and fell back in a swoon as Ann pulled her
pajama down over her girlish curves, following closely with her pink
tongue. "Oh, Donald!" the girl groaned.

Ann pulled the pajama down further, revealing Myra's golden thatch of
cunny. "No knickers! You wicked girl!" Ann murmured.

"Kiss me, darling," the little blonde pleaded, not daring to say out
loud where it was she wanted to be kissed.

Ann continued pushing the fabric out of the way even as she planted
hot kisses on the newly-bared flesh, licking the pink slit, tasting
its juices. "Yes! Yes! God! Darling, give me a proper rogering!" the
girl begged.

"Take this, my sweet," Ann said in a husky growl, and slipped on long
finger inside Myra's tight, wet love-hole.

"Ooh!" the blonde cooed. "Oh, my!" Ann followed the golden rule and
did only what she knew she would like done to herself--licking and
sucking, tonguing and fingering. She rubbed the juicy pink slit with
two fingers and sucked it like a peach.

"Oh! Oh! Yes! Oh, darling! More! Please, more!" Myra thrashed about on
the bed, moaning loudly and incomprehensibly. "Mmmm! Unh! Unh! OH!"

Ann teased Myra's little button with her tongue, making the girl gasp
again and again. "Uh! Uh! Oh! OH YES! YES! THERE! JUST THERE!" the
little blonde squealed. "Bring me to crisis! Bring me to crisis! OH,
DARLING! YES!" And with that she fell back into nonsensical gasping
and moaning, exhausting her petite form completely.

Ann propped herself up on her elbows and wiped her mouth with the back
of her hand. "I've never done that before!" the raven-haired beauty
sighed. "Quite an experience, darling!"

"Quite!" the Myra agreed. "I never imagined you would lick it! It was
fantastic!"

"It was heaven for me too, darling. Oh," the brunette said, looking
down again, "I'm afraid I've got lipstick on your pussy!"

"Oh my goodness!" Myra squealed, covering her pink quim.

Ann crawled up to kiss Myra softly on the lips. Their tongues tested
and tasted each other gently. The two girls looked into each other's
eyes, Ann's a dark pair of deep pools, Myra's a clear pair of crystal
goblets. "Now you?" the little blonde asked.

"Indeed!" Ann agreed.

They kissed and embraced hotly and rolled over in the bed so that Myra
was on top.

Myra pulled at the flimsy fabric of Ann's silk knickers. She pulled it
down over Ann's round behind and down her pale thighs. In a moment,
Ann's trim black bush was revealed to her pretty lover. "Marvelous,"
the girl said breathlessly. She ran her hands up and down Ann's
silk-stockinged legs as she slid down her body, kissing her large
breasts, her belly, and finally her musky Venus mound.

"Oh, God, Myra, darling," Ann groaned. "Oh darling, please do!
Please!"

Myra did indeed. She slipped her tongue between the lips of the
brunette beauty's pussy and tasted the warm, wet sex that waited there
for her. Ann gasped desperately and groaned again. "Suck it, darling!
Oh please suck it!"

Myra licked and kissed the pouting lips, spread her lover's quim, and
dived in deep with a wet tongue and probing fingers. "Mmmmm, yes," Ann
groaned, biting her lip. "Oh, yes, yes, yes, Myra darling. That's it."
She ran her fingers through the hair of the girl eating her wet pussy.

Myra teased Ann's red hot button, driving her to distraction with
gasping and moaning. "Oh, sweetheart!" Ann gasped wrapping her legs
around Myra's head, rubbing her silk stocking up and down Myra's bare
back. "Unh! Unh! Oh! Don't stop! I'll come, darling! I'll climax! OH!
OH God!"

Myra didn't stop. She buried her face in Ann's warm, wet cunt, driving
at her clitoris with relentless fervor. "Oh YES! Oh Myra! I'm coming,
darling! OH! Oh! Fuck me with your sweet mouth! Take me with you
tongue, darling!" And Ann rushed headlong over the falls into a
crashing orgasm, the pleasure washing over her in terrifying tremors,
shaking her body, locking her silk-covered thighs around Myra's head.
"Ohhh!" she cried. "Oh, God! OH! OH! OH! AH! AAAAAAAAAH!"

Myra rose over Ann with a lascivious smile smeared with sex juices,
her blonde hair wild from the rough play. "What fun!" she gasped.

The two women cuddled close together again, kissing softly in the dim
light. "Do you think they're gone now?" Ann asked.

"I certainly hope so," Myra whispered. "Your man-act didn't last long
once I had your knickers down!"

"You teased me so, you naughty thing. I couldn't stand it."

"Was it horrible?" Myra teased.

"Awful," Ann pouted. "Awful and wonderful! I've never felt such a
thing in my life."

"Nor I, darling," Myra said, and kissed her new lover sweetly. "Now
let's find that list those men talked about." She rose, completely
naked, and began going through Ann's clothes.

"The 'sixty-nine nymphs,' did they say?" Ann asked, propped up on an
elbow, just as naked but for her silk stockings.

"Yes...." said Myra. "Whatever could that mean? I wonder."

"I'm sure I don't know," Ann replied. She primped her shiny black hair
and cast about for her knickers. "It's a sexual position, you know,
the 69."

"So I've heard, darling, but I should hardly think it is a list of
girls willing to try it. But it's a list of women of some sort, I
should think," said Myra. "How did you meet these men?"

"They bumped into me on the train," Ann said simply, slipping into her
knickers again. "We squeezed past one another in the corridor. I
thought nothing of it at the time, but it wasn't long before they were
following me whenever I left my car--to the dining car, to the
loo...."

"That's the first you saw of them?"

"Oh, yes," Ann said. "I was talking with Mr. Miller, the sheriff
principal. He's the kindest man, Mr. Miller. He could help us with
this. But afterwards, these men brushed past me in the corridor--"

"Here now, what's this?" Myra asked. She pulled a small cylinder of
rolled paper from the flower on Ann's hat. It looked almost like a
cigarette.

"Great Scot! How did that get there?!" Ann pressed close to Myra,
their bodies touching again, warm and soft.

Myra touched Ann's cheek and kissed her lips. "It must have fallen in
when they brushed past you in the corridor. They've been trying to get
it back ever since."

"Well, let's hand it back to them and be rid of it." Ann embraced the
girl, pressing her large breasts against Myra's bare back, holding the
girl's small tits, smelling her hair. The sensation was positively
decadent.

"Not so fast, darling," Myra chided. "Let's have a look...."

"'Darling.' I like the sound of that," Ann said softly, nuzzling
Myra's warm neck. The little roll of thin paper unrolled about as long
as her slim arm. On it, in two neat rows, were women's first names,
each with a telephone number underneath.

"Ariadne, Gwendolyn, Cassandra, Helen, Bette, Penelope, and so on. The
sixty-nine nymphs," Myra said.

"But who could these girls be?" Ann puzzled.

"Not girls at all, I suspect," the petite blonde said. Myra gazed into
Ann's deep brown eyes. "Spies, I should think, darling," she said.

"Oh my. Perhaps we should go to the police."

"Yes, we should," Myra agreed, dropping the little list on table.
"Shall we go first thing...in the morning?" She turned to kiss Ann
again, to press her pointed tits against Ann's full bosoms.

"Mmm, darling, no," Ann said reluctantly. "Now's the time, I think. I
should never forgive myself if those hooligans returned tonight and
hurt you just to get to me."

"Thoughtful thing," Myra smiled and traced a finger down Ann's
shoulder. "Let's go ring the police," she said.

Ann frowned. "We can't go down to the lobby; those men are probably
still there waiting for us. But there's telephone over at the train
station."

Myra jumped up, small breasts bouncing. "Oh! We'll go out the window!
It'll be an adventure!"



The two girls got dressed quickly and tore the linen off the bed to
make an escape rope. "I hope they hold," Myra said. "I wish we had
needle and thread. We could stitch them together properly."

"We haven't time, darling," said Ann, and slipped out the window. The
rain had stopped, thankfully, but the night was black with clouded
skies. Ann shimmied down the makeshift rope quickly, half-falling to a
rough landing on her bottom. "Careful, deary," she hissed. "Wrapped
your legs round it good and tight."

Myra started down, legs wrapped around the bed sheets tightly, as
instructed, and had no similar difficulty. The most harrowing moment
came when a gust of wind blew her dress up and gave Ann a cheeky peek
at her knickers. In a few moments, the two were rushing away from the
little inn, across the wet meadow, towards the lonely railway station.

At the deserted station, Ann started to dial the operator for the
police, but Myra stopped her. "Wait. We've got to be able to tell them
something. Let's call one of the numbers." Ann looked shocked, but
Myra took the handset. "Look, this one is local."

The two girls huddled together in the telephone kiosk under a feeble
lamp while the rain began to fall lightly again outside. The little
blonde dialed the number. "It's terribly exciting," Ann whispered.
"What will you say?"

But it was too late. "Is this Cassandra?"

Ann pressed close so she could the answer. "Who is this?" It was a
man's voice.

"I've been asked to pass on a message from Control."

"This is highly unusual." There was a long pause. "This is Cassandra.
What is the message?"

"Agents of the crown are conducting inspections of a new military
communications device in Coventry. We shall arrange that you become a
part of it; you must pass a report back to us and we will relay it out
of the country."

Another long pause: "I read you," said the voice. "I will await
further orders." Myra hung up.

"Egad! They are spies!" Ann breathed.

"There's no doubt of it."

"You were so good, darling," Ann laughed. "He tripped all over
himself."

"Don't laugh," Myra said. "It's positively frightening! Let's ring the
police now."

"Oh no," said the brunette. "Now I call the fellow back and find out
who he is." A minute later, Ann rang the same number. It was picked up
quickly. "Hello, Charlie? Oh, it's good to-- What? Oh I am sorry. I
must have the wrong number. Whom have I dialed, please? Pardon? Oh,
my. Thank you. I shan't bother you again, sir." Myra hung up the
telephone.

Myra looked at her closely. "Who was it?"

Ann was as pale as porcelain. "It was Mr. Miller," she said, "the
sheriff principal."

"The man you spoke to on the train? Great Scot!" Myra gasped.

A heavy fist knocked on the door of the kiosk. Both ladies when numb,
the blood washed out of the faces. The door was forced open roughly. A
male voice in the darkness muttered. "Don't scream, you." Myra jammed
the list down Ann's blouse and into her brassiere.

The girls came out of the little booth and into the light rain. The
two bent-nosed thugs who had been after Ann earlier stood over them,
soaked in the rain, which now had stopped again; their rough faces
wore two-day growths of whiskers over their scowls. "Hand over, you
li'l twats, or we'll push you under a train."

The girls absolutely trembled with fear. "Where is i'?" the man
demanded in his gravelly, common, London slur. "Is i' up in 'ere?" He
slid his hand up Ann's thigh, under her skirt, right up into the
groove of her cunny. She stiffened and caught her breath.

"D'ya like tha'?" he taunted, massaging her tight slit. Ann squirmed.

"They got to have the list on 'em somewheres," his companion said.
"Both of you: take off your togs."

Myra gasped. But both men agreed. The only way for them to search the
girls was to strip them naked. Out came a folding knife of dastardly
length that the second man used to toy with Myra's dress. "Shall I cut
the buttons off, love?" he asked. She unbuttoned her dress, as Ann did
with her blouse and skirt; she checked self-consciously to see that
the list was tucked firmly into her bra cup. The two girls stood
before them in knickers, brassieres, and shoes, their pretty clothes
lying in the damp gravel next to the dark station.

"Oh I like this," the smaller man said, groping Myra flesh. "She's a
cute one, isn't she? Let's do her first." The bigger man held Ann's
arms behind her back, his thick prick stiff against her bottom, as his
friend slipped off the little blonde's brassiere. Her small bosoms
were firm, their chilled nipples pebble-hard in the chill night air.
"That's somefink, ain't it?" he mumbled, and squeezed her little tits
gleefully.

Next came her knickers. Her small, blonde pussy was exposed to the
night air and the two brutes. She squirmed against the man, trying to
slip his grasp, but he kept a firm hand on one arm as he groped the
pink slit between her legs.

Myra knew that the only thing keeping the men from finding the list
and, in all likelihood, doing away with the poor girls was her
shivering, bare body and its attraction for the thugs drooling over
it. She laid back against the brute who held her and let his fingers
slide up and down her slit; he spat on them and worked them in deeper,
making her whimper.

"You monster," Ann hissed at the man. But his fingers were giving
Myra's quim a thorough teasing. She gasped. She huffed. She whimpered
and moaned. Her pussy gushed juices, flooding his hand and making him
smile. Her struggling now was less panic than pleasure. Ann was
shocked. She tried to think of a way to help, but she couldn't even
get an arm loose to get rid of the list.

"Unh!" Myra whimpered. "Oh! OH! OHHHH!" She tossed her head; she
panted and shook, her knees buckling.

"Oh!" Ann squealed. But her young friend was lost in a moment of total
carnal delight.

The man holding her slid his hand down Ann's knickers and toyed with
her pussy again. "You're next, love," he taunted.

As Myra picked up her dress and began to slip into it, Ann went lax.
"Wait," she said. "I'll show you." The man let her bend and pick up
her skirt and blouse. She pretended to fumble with the waistband of
her skirt, where a small thing like the list might be hidden.

"Run!" Myra squealed suddenly. And she planted her foot directly and
firmly in the crotch of the goon in front of her and dashed away
toward the train tracks, leaving her knickers and bra behind. While
the thug in front of Ann was distracted, she balled up her fist and
rapped his solidly in the nose, making him stumble back in pain. She
rushed off after Myra at full dash, blouse and skirt in hand.

On the other side of the tracks, the fleeing damsels took a moment to
look back and see their attackers take to the chase. They scrambled
across the tracks after their quarry with angry determination.

Over the ridge beyond the tracks, the half-naked girls stumbled into a
river, where the water rushed madly past them, tumbling down jagged
rocks and under a bridge. The frightened ladies splashed into the
freezing water, losing their footing, helping one another, and
scrambling through the rocks on the other side. The men followed,
stumbling also. But one of the men took a serious tumble, sliding on
his back downstream and colliding the rocks painfully. His companion
paused only for a moment before leaving him behind, face down in the
water, bleeding badly from his head.

Ann and Myra shook off the chill of the river and rushed up onto the
road, where they saw lights ahead. A motorcar was just crossing the
bridge. Quick-thinking Myra did up a button on her dress and flagged
it down while Ann slipped into her skirt and blouse. "What's all
this?" the driver demanded.

"There's a man who's fallen in the river!" Ann cried, holding her
blouse closed with one hand. "He's terribly hurt!" The driver tore his
eyes away from the young woman's wet, bulging bosom and rushed down
the embankment. The cheeky girls slid into his car and tore off at a
furious pace.

"To the police!" Myra cried.

"Not to these police," Ann said. "They can't be trusted. Let's get
ourselves to a train station and catch the first express to London!"



As the ladies settled into their railcar and locked the door, Ann
pulled the list of sixty-nine nymphs out of her brassiere. "I'll be
glad to rid of this soon. And we'll see all sixty-nine of them go to
the gallows."

"Even your friend, Mr. Miller?"

"Even he," the dark-eyed woman said, "if he's an agent of a foreign
government."

Myra wrapped her arm around Ann's waist. "Ann?" she asked timidly,
"Have you ever...actually...experienced the 69 position?"

"Never in life, darling," murmured the brunette. Myra kissed her
shoulder and looked up at her coyly. "Why, you cheeky girl," giggled
Ann. "We've only just met!"


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