* * *

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Across The Channel

I don't think there's much to report about the Tuesday of that week. It was just another nothing day as far as the investigation went.
Before I move on however, there are three things that happened on that Tuesday worthy of a little mention here. I add these points just to put you in the picture and hopefully keep a little continuity to the story.
Point number one: I asked Sandy to join me on my trip across the Channel. I left popping the question until the next morning mainly because I was too shagged out the night before. Naturally she was delighted and said yes immediately. I even got a kiss. I explained that this was a working trip and that we were not going for a dirty weekend, but she insisted on coming all the same.
Point number two: In the morning I visited someone who specialised in electronic surveillance. From him I purchased some under the counter espionage equipment. For my money, which was a quite a lot, I got six small microphones on a card. They were flat, no bigger than a small button, had a sticky side to them and a transmission range of something like half a mile. Along with the microphones I also got a receiving device that could listen in to the six different channels and record up to five hours conversation.
Finally, point number three: Well, this was just an observation really, and something not made by me but by Sandy, but all the same it requires a little mention here.
I showed Sandy that photograph of me taken by Bo with her secret camera. On seeing it Sandy frowned and I asked why? I thought it to be a pretty good likeness of myself. However, it was not me she was looking at, it was one of the fellows stood in the background. I looked closely at the tapping finger and to my surprise she was pointing to Denny North and not Fernando.
"I recognise him. He's been to Hugo's club," she informed me. "It was sometime ago and I've only ever seen him the once, but he's definitely been there."
My immediate thoughts were that this was another undercover operation, Denny North was a Drugs Squad agent and I was wondering whether Hugo was implicated in any way? Personally I didn't think so. Hugo was a honest man trying to make a living in a shady business, but that didn't make him a crook.
I pondered for a while at the revelation. The trouble was I was lacking certain information. For starters I needed to know what Sandy meant by 'sometime ago'.
"When did this happen?" I asked her.
Sandy thought for a moment.
"Oh, about two years ago," she eventually informed me.
Now that put a different complexion on the matter. I was still with the police then, and if it was a local operation I think I would have known something about it.
"Are you sure it was as long ago as that Sandy?" I asked and needing confirmation.
Sandy nodded her head.
"Woody, I'm positive," she informed me. "He was my client at the club. He wanted to go through the old 'kidnap a secretary and rape her' routine with someone. I was available that night and we did the business."
I tried to make out some significance from all this, but failed. However, at the time I did think it somewhat coincidental that Boris was into the same routine, if only as a spectator sport. I therefore had to ask another question, if only for my piece of mind.
"Was anyone watching you?" I asked.
Sandy shook her head.
"No, we were alone in the room together," she informed me, "just me and that guy in the photograph."
Well that just about blew my little theory with Boris and nothing more was said at the time.
So, apart from these three points, as I say, Tuesday was a bit of a nothing day as far as my investigation went. It just happened to fall between Monday and Wednesday, and there's not a lot that can be done about that.
For the record here is a potted history of what happened on that Tuesday.
Sandy washed all my dirty linen and I repacked my bags. By phone I booked a ferry crossing via hovercraft for the Wednesday lunch time. (Sandy didn't like tunnels, so the Chunnel was out!). We checked that our passports were all in order. Sandy popped to her local bank in the city centre to collected some French Francs and German Marks.
Myself, in the meantime went to Motobits to purchase things like a good road map of Europe; a European Union 'GB' sticker for the back of my car; mandatory headlight deflectors, (they drive on the wrong side of the road over there!); a spare bulb set; two reflector triangles to put by the side of the road if you breakdown, (one to the front and one behind); a first aid kit, (mainly consisting of plasters and aspirins); plus everything else the man behind the counter said I needed.
I think the man saw me coming and half the things I bought weren't needed, but I wasn't in an argumentative mood and walked out of the shop loaded down with shopping bags.
Oh, and I almost forgot, I had my mobile phone switched so that it would work over there as well as in England.
And that, I think, was Tuesday.
Now on to Wednesday.

* * *

Wednesday morning arrived and Sandy and I made a very early start.
It was a little before five o'clock in the morning when we set off. It was a day in late March and the weather was cold and frosty, but at least there was no wind to speak of, and that augured well for a calm ferry crossing.
Driving my old Volvo estate, we joined the motorway south of Birmingham and took the M40 to London, then circled the nation's capital by way of the M25 before turning off for Kent and the south-eastern corner of England.
Sandy, bless her, slept for most of the way. Apart, that is, from continually waking up and asking me to stop because she needed a wee. I think altogether we stopped four times. At one services however, somewhere south of London on the M25, we made a longer stop for a cooked breakfast and a cup of coffee. But even that was not for very long, and we were soon on our way again. Anyway, we made good time and midday saw us onboard the hovercraft, and thirty-five minutes later we were in France. It was as simple as that.
The hovercraft blasted its way out of the sea and up onto a concrete pad somewhere close to the town of Calais. We disembarked and from there we drove across the French coast as far as Dunkirk, which was no more than twenty kilometres away. We made our way to the dockland area, and there, in a lay-by, we waited.
Boris's ferry was scheduled to leave Dover East Docks at midday. The same time as we left the West Docks by hovercraft. I'd earlier checked on the crossing times for the commercial ferry, and was told Dover to Dunkirk was two hours. Adding one hour on for French time, my calculations suggested that Boris would be passing my way a little after three o'clock. I kept my fingers crossed that he had caught his scheduled boat.
We were close enough to see the three o'clock ferry come in. It was a big boat that towered above the buildings. It was also right on time.
Some fifteen minutes later lorries started to trundle past our lay-by. I must admit I was feeling a little apprehensive at this stage. Then I saw in my wing mirror a silver-grey Mercedes travelling along between two juggernaut lorries. I pulled out behind the second lorry and started to follow. Needless to say, I was a very relieved man at this point in time.
The next thing that happened took me a little by surprise. Having come out of the dockland area, I expected Boris to turn left and head for the Belgium border, and thereafter on to Germany and home, wherever that might be, but instead he turned right to ultimately link up with the French motorway system and on to Paris.
I followed at a safe distance. Luckily, despite having a powerful car, Boris was not a fast driver, and my old Volvo was able to keep pace.
About halfway to Paris, Sandy informed me she needed another 'wee'. I told her to keep her legs crossed. After going to all this trouble there was no way I was going to lose Boris now.
Near the outskirts of Paris Boris pulled off the motorway, or autoroute as they're called over there, and wove his way through the busy streets. Once or twice I'd thought I'd lost him, but Sandy proved to be quite an asset and kept pointing as to which way he went. Eventually the big silver-grey Mercedes pulled into a hotel car park. I drove on a little way and stopped. Darkness had fallen by this time and I was feeling shagged out after doing all that driving and being up since before five o'clock that morning.
I turned to Sandy.
"Are you sure he's never seen you?" I asked.
Sandy nodded her head.
"Positive," she replied.
Boris had never laid eyes on me either. At least I hoped not. So I decided to stop messing about and see if there were any vacancies at Boris's hotel. I swung around in the road, headed back a little way and turned into the hotel car park.
"Right Sandy, from now on we're a loving couple on a fortnight's holiday to Europe," I told her as I stopped the engine.
"Aren't we anyway Woody?" she asked.
I was in no mood to argue.
"Bollocks Sandy, just grab your case and follow me," I told her.
 
* * *

There was one room left at the hotel and I took it. I signed the register as Mr. and Mrs. Woods, and whilst doing so I took a note of Boris's room number. We happened to be on the same floor but at opposite ends of the corridor.
Our room had twin beds and 'en suite' bathroom, and, as conditions go, it wasn't a bad little room for the money. The hotel by the way was called 'La Belle Epoque', which translates roughly as 'the beautiful era'. Apparently, sometime back in France's history there was a gap of some twenty years or more when nothing really nasty happened. At least there was no internal squabbling and no one was sent to the guillotine, and hence the name in French history.
Anyway, I digress, now back to the story, for it gets a bit complicated from here on and you'll need to keep your wits about you.
Sandy, for obvious reasons opted for the bed nearest the bathroom. I took the bed nearest the window, not because I needed the fresh air, but because it gave me a good clear view of the car park. From the edge of the bed I could see Boris's Mercedes, and that was important to me. There were curtains, but I never pulled them.
The journey to Paris had taken about four hours without a stop. By the time we'd settled into our room it was eight o'clock and I was feeling hungry.
"Come on Sandy, we're going down stairs to eat," I called to her in the bathroom.
She was in the shower, not having a wee.
It took her about another twenty minutes to get ready, and I was beginning to wonder whether I'd made the right decision in bringing her along.
Eventually we made it to the lifts. We walked hand in hand and tried to look like a couple hopelessly in love. I think Sandy managed it best.
The dining room was off the reception area on the ground floor. We were given a table for two against the wall and close to the door. The meal was good. I had a rump steak, Sandy had poached salmon. We also had a rather pleasant red wine to go with it.
We were just relaxing at the end of the meal and drinking strong French coffee out of cups made for kiddies dolls houses when Sandy took out her mobile phone.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Phoning my mother," she told me.
I put my head in my hands and sighed. This was meant to be a spying mission. I know Sandy's mother was in her late sixties and lived alone in a council flat in Birmingham, but I was hoping our trip across the channel would at least be a little discreet if not secretive.
For a while Sandy stood staring at the little blank screen on her mobile.
"I'll have to go outside Woody, I can't get a signal in here," she informed me after playing with the buttons for quite some time.
"Have you got it switched for the continent?" I asked.
The previous day I'd called the operator in England and got my own mobile phone switched for use abroad. Apparently it's called 'roaming' if you want to continue using your own phone whilst on holiday.
Sandy looked at me as if I was some sort of idiot.
"Of course I've got it switched to dual band," she informed me. "I had it working once. I had a good signal on the motorway just before Paris."
I'd never noticed her playing with the thing in the car. I must have been concentrating too much on tailing Boris. She handed me the phone, and all I could do was agree with her. The screen was blank and there was definitely no signal to be found in this part of the hotel.
I handed the phone back, but it did leave me to ponder over another tricky problem.
I'd considered bugging Boris's room, or at least sticking one of my little bugging devices to his door to see if I could pick up anything inside. I'd even put one small button sized microphone in my pocket with the intention of sticking it close to the bottom of his door on our return to our hotel room. But since I'd never tried out my new toy, I had no idea what sort of range it was capable of in a large building, if at all.
I had an idea how to test it. I handed Sandy the button microphone. It had a sticky back to it and I stuck it to the palm of her hand.
"Don't lose it," I told her sternly.
"What's this?" she asked and holding up her hand for everyone in the room to see.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
"Put it away," I told her. "It's a microphone and I want to do a little experiment."
Sandy looked bemused. I guess I did drop it on her suddenly.
"What do you want me to do then Woody?" she asked.
I lowered the tone of my voice.
"Just stay here whilst I go back to the bedroom," I whispered. "I've got the listening device up there in my travel bag. What I want you to do is pretend that you're talking to your mother on your mobile, and I'll see if I can hear you upstairs."
I thought that I'd explained it well, but that bemused look remained on Sandy's face.
"Then what?" she asked.
I wasn't sure whether I should tell her the rest of my plan, but I did so anyway.
"Then if it works I'll get you to stick it on Boris's door as you come up," I told her.
"Me! Stick it on a door!" she remarked, but at least she was whispering.
I smiled and held her hand across the table.
"Don't worry Sandy, I'm only joking," I told her. "I'll do the sticking when the time comes."
Anyway, after going through it all again just to make sure she understood, I made for the lifts.
As I was about to get out the lift on the fifth floor I turned my head to one side. A tall blond guy in his mid-thirties was waiting to come into the lift. I stepped out and walked right past him without a glance. I then headed quickly to my room.
I laid out my little box on the bed, pulled out the aerial and switched it on. Immediately I heard Sandy's voice. I turned a knob and tuned her in a little better. The signal was good and strong. She was speaking to someone with a German accent. I immediately began to listen to what was being said.
"Haven't we met somewhere before?" asked the German.
"I don't think so," I heard Sandy reply.
I'd never heard Boris speak before, but I was positive that it was him. In fact, under the circumstances, who else could it possibly be?
"Oh yes we have met, at least I saw you, but I don't think you saw me," explained the German.
"Where would that be then?" asked Sandy and still sounding a little puzzled by it all.
"At Hugo's club in Birmingham. I'm a member there, and I have a friend that performs for me on occasions. You posed as a secretary for him and got yourself kidnapped, remember?" said the German.
There came a long pause, presumably whilst Sandy tried to recall the occasion.
"I only remember ever doing it once and there was nobody else in the room?" she said and sounding a little confused.
The German laughed loudly.
"The mirror on the ceiling… I was up above and looking down… but you were not to know that," he said.
I could have kicked myself for not remembering the mirrors in the ceilings at Hugo's, and the darkened rooms above. At one time I'd even been a participant myself and looking down on Sandy whist someone made a fruit salad of her.
I smiled. Suddenly things were beginning to fall into place. Doreen had told me about the German's other fantasy of watching a secretary get kidnapped and raped. After that Sandy had said that she had performed the act with Denny North a couple of years ago, and now, here was confirmation that Boris was in the room above and watching what went on through the mirror.
Now this set me thinking. I asked myself, just what sort of relationship existed between Denny North and Boris? Boris had called him a friend. I gave Denny the benefit of the doubt and concluded that it was undercover work. The only thing that went against that theory was the fact that Denny did not point Boris out to us when watching the video recording of Bo and Hendry in the dungeon.
Anyway, whilst I mused over these two conflicting arguments, the conversation moved on and I was surprised to hear the German ask Sandy: "Would you like to perform for me tonight? Perhaps do a bit of self bondage. I'm having dinner with someone first, but afterwards, in my room you'd be most welcome, and I will pay you well."
I was still thinking how one should respond to a proposition like that, but Sandy must have had her wits about her, for she answered almost immediately and with little emotion. I guess after many years in the business propositions like this must come as second nature to her.
"I'm not sure," she told the German. "I'm here on holiday with my boyfriend, and I'll have to ask him first, but perhaps he'll let me. I'll have to wait an see."
I tried to consider all the implications. For a while I stared blankly out of the window. It was then that I saw a man getting out of a taxi and I backed away. It was Hendry. Presumably here to have dinner with Boris.
Suddenly I had a problem. Here was someone who recognised me. Now it was impossible for me to go downstairs. All I could do was stay in my room and wait for Sandy to appear.
Fifteen minutes later Sandy came into the room. The bugging device was still stuck to the palm of her hand. She was a little irate.
"Why didn't you come down?" she asked. "I've been pretending to speak to my mother on my mobile for ages. I was getting all sorts of looks from the people down there."
"Because there's someone down there that'll recognise me," I explained.
I got glaring daggers, but I put up with it, mainly because that fifteen minutes wait had been useful. I now had another plan. I related it to Sandy who appeared to have calmed down a little.
"I want you to go straight back down again," I told her. "I want you to lean over the table and whisper in Boris's ear. I want you to tell him that you've spoken to your boyfriend and he suggests we do the kidnapped secretary routine in his room tonight. Also tell him it'll cost him. Tell him five hundred pounds. Oh, and there's one more thing I want you to do. I want you to stick that microphone under his table. Can you do that for me?"
Sandy looked surprised, but she nodded her head.
"I think so Woody," she said.
I gave her a big kiss.
"Good girl," I told her, then patted her on the bum and sent her on her way.
After that I waited nervously in the hotel room for her to return. When I asked Sandy to accompany me to France it was not my intention to expose her to any danger, and I just hoped that everything would go smoothly.
By listening in on the receiver I was aware that Sandy had managed to do all that I'd asked. But I still wanted her back in the room before I could relax and breathe more easily.
Anyway, she did return safely and together we sat on the side of the bed listening to a lengthy conversation between Boris and Hendry at the dining table. I also set the recorder going just in case something might be of use to Harry Bell.
The conversation was long and disjointed and covered many topics, including the weather. Tomorrow apparently we could expect some heavy rain. But this is roughly what came out of their various discussions which was of concern to me.
On the drug running issue Boris was proposing to temporarily close down all UK operations until everything blew over. To do this the German was planning to head to a stonemasons in Toulouse the following day and put a hold on operations there. The visit was necessary as he considered talking over the phone a risk.
As for Hendry, he sounded nervous throughout the entire meal, and needed continuous reassurance from Boris that he was safe from arrest on two accounts. On the drugs running issue, apparently London were in the process of a rethink and no one at present was being pursued. As for the girl Hendry had mutilated in the dungeon, she was recovering in hospital and was not going to press charges. Apparently Boris knew that she was an agent and was about to inform Hendry, but arrived too late to stop him.
In the end it was agreed that Hendry was to return to London and carry on as normal. He was to act as if nothing had happened and await further instructions from Boris. It was even suggested that it could be six months or more before the operation re-started.
After the two gentlemen finished their meals and had gone their separate ways, I switched off the receiver and packed the tape away safely in my bag.
Afterwards I turned to Sandy. My ruse for an excuse to allow Sandy to place the microphone under Boris's dinning table had worked a treat. It also gave me access to his room, which was something else I wanted. But at what cost I asked myself? Now we had to go through with what was proposed. Sandy and I were now expected to perform the kidnapped secretary routine in front of the German.
Sandy could see that I was in deep and troubled thought.
"What's the matter Woody?" she asked and showing concern.
I gave a nervous smile.
"I was thinking about what happens next," I confessed. "We're expected in Boris's room at eleven o'clock to do the old kidnapped secretary routine."
Sandy patted my hand lovingly then squeezed it tight.
"Don't worry Woody, it's no big deal. I'll help you through the ordeal," she assured me.

* * *

About half an hour later I found myself knocking on a door at the opposite end of the corridor. Sandy had changed into something resembling secretarial style clothing. She wore a white blouse and a short black skirt. She'd also managed to find a pair of thick, black rimmed spectacles from somewhere and styled her hair back in bun.
A tall blond-headed gentleman answered the door. Not surprisingly it was the same person I'd bumped into as I got out of the lift.
We shook hands and introduced ourselves. He called himself Boris, I called myself Dave, and Sandy was Sandy.
We entered. Boris's room was much bigger than ours. It was also an apartment style suite with adjoining small study and kitchenette alongside. There was also a door leading to the bathroom.
Boris led us straight through to the study. Looking around I could only assume that as a business man he came here often and made full use of the additional facilities. Perhaps this suite was always reserved for him. I had a hunch that it was.
I looked around the room. It was not a very big study. Facing the window was a small desk. There was a typewriter on the surface and a swivel chair to sit upon. Behind the desk was a psychiatric type couch. There were no sides to it, it was in black leather, and one end could be raised to prop up the body. There was also a small table in the room. This was positioned against the wall and just behind the door.
I turned to Boris.
"What do you want us to do then?" I asked.
I was expecting to be handed a note full of instructions, but I was wrong. Instead the German walked across to the desk and from one drawer he extracted a small bottle and a gauze rag. From another he pulled out several lengths of white rope. He handed everything to me.
I read the label on the bottle. It said: 'Chloroform'. I remembered now what Doreen had said, and suddenly I was having second thoughts. I looked to Sandy and showed her the bottle.
She read the label, smiled and then nodded her head.
"It won't be the first time," she told me and sounding totally nonplussed by it all.
I turned back to Boris and repeated my earlier question.
"What do you want us to do then?" I asked.
Once more I was expecting a written note to appear, but once more I was sadly mistaken.
"I'll leave the fine details to you," he told me, "but basically I want you to sneak up behind the secretary who'll be working at the desk. You sedate her and tie her up. What you do after that I'll leave to your own imagination. But I must insist that at one point in the performance you have intercourse with her. Is that clear?"
I nodded my head. It was perfectly clear.
"Good," said Boris, "for most of the time I will be standing by the door. But there will be times when I shall be moving around the room in order to gain a better view. You must therefore ignore my presence at all times. Is that also very clear?"
I nodded my head again, then turned to Sandy.
"Ready then sweetheart?" I asked.
Sandy smiled and sat down at the desk.
"I'm ready whenever you are darling," she told me as she placed a sheet of paper in the typewriter and wound on the platen.
I placed everything Boris had given me on the small table behind the door, then took up the rag and sprinkled a light covering of chloroform over the surface. I didn't want to over do it.
Sandy had her back to me and was typing away merrily. It was in reality just a jumble of letters, but I must say she looked the part.
I looked to Boris for confirmation and he nodded his head. The show was about to start. Slowly I crept up behind Sandy. For a second or two I held the rag behind her head, then just as she was about to wind on the platen and insert another sheet of paper, I struck. I covered her nose and mouth with the rag, and I held it there.
For a while Sandy struggled. Her glasses came off and clattered across the desk, and the slide that held her hair in a bun came away and fell to the floor.
Whether Sandy was doing all this for real or just pretend I had no way of telling. I wasn't even sure whether I'd put enough chloroform on the rag, or how long was needed for it to take effect.
It must have taken some thirty seconds, possibly a little more, for Sandy's body to go limp and give up the struggle. As she did so I lowered her very gently to the floor.
I made for the table. From the corner of my eye I could see Boris looking on. I tried to ignore his presence. I collected two lengths of rope. One was relatively long, the other quite short. I then returned to Sandy lying on the floor.
I rolled Sandy over onto her back and drew up her hands to meet at the front. I then tied her wrists together with the sort length of rope.
Next I got the longer length of rope, I sat Sandy up the best I could, then started to wrap the rope about her body. I started at the upper arms, pinning them to her sides and criss-crossing her breasts, I then moved on down as far as the waist until practically every part of her arms and upper body were encircled in rope. I'm no expert at tying knots, but I guessed what I did would contain her for quite some while.
I lay Sandy down on her back on the floor. She was sleeping peacefully. I then drew her short black skirt up around the waist and pulled down her panties.
She was wearing nylon stockings and a suspender belt underneath, but a triangle of short curly ginger hair remained clearly visible.
To give Boris value for money, as I removed the panties from around Sandy's feet I opened out her legs to expose her fanny. From the corner of my eye I saw Boris move away from the door slightly in order to gain a better view. I hoped that he was enjoying what was on show.
For a minute or two I just stood to one side and waited. I could see Boris doing the same. Sandy showed no signs of coming round. I couldn't tell what Boris was thinking about the certain lack of action, but I guess he felt like me; something needed to be done, so I picked Sandy up from the floor and placed her on the couch. I then moved to the table and gathered up more rope.
The top end of the couch was raised up slightly, and there was gap underneath. With a long length of rope I began to encircle Sandy's body and the raised end of the couch. Her arms were already pinned to her body in such a manner, and when I was finished she was doubly so.
Next I moved to the bottom of the couch and opened out Sandy's legs so that the heels of her feet touched the two corners. I saw Boris move and crouch down to a position where he could look up between Sandy's legs. With another length of rope I then tied Sandy's ankles to the legs of the couch.
Having secured Sandy to the couch I returned to the top end. I slapped her lightly on the cheeks.
"Come on, wake up," I told her.
I'm not sure whether she'd ever been asleep. I'd not sprinkled much chloroform onto the rag and this could have been a bit of good acting for all I knew. The moment I tapped her on the cheeks her eyelids fluttered and she looked my way. All I can say is, that from now on she was acting. Whilst back in our hotel room she'd briefed me on what I should do, and we had a little routine worked out.
Sandy raised up her head, gave a shocked expression on discovering the ropes, then screamed and began to struggle wildly. I just hoped that my rope work would hold.
"What have you done to me? Let me go!" she screamed.
At this point I think I was more concerned with the people in the neighbouring bedroom. Whatever did they think about the noise? Luckily we had a plan worked out. Quickly I collected up Sandy's panties from off the floor and stuffed them into her mouth.
"Mmmm," she moaned as I held her jaws together.
I looked about the room for something to hold the panties in place but could see nothing. I then had an idea. Quickly I removed my neck tie and thrust it across her mouth so that it held her jaws open and pushed the panties deep inside.  I then knotted the tie at the back of her head.
"Mmmm," moaned Sandy once more.
I felt pleased with my little piece of handiwork and for a moment or too I stepped away to admire what I had done. I think Boris must have been feeling the same too and he moved to stand behind me. I tried my best to ignore him.
Eventually I returned to stand alongside the couch. With a probing index finger I traced along her slit.
"What am I going to do with this?" I asked Sandy.
"Mmmm," she answered with wide open eyes.
By now I had a hard on. I guess I just couldn't help it. I tried to forget about Boris and concentrate on doing the business. I kicked off my shoes then removed my pants and shirt to stand naked in the room. Apart from ankle socks that was. I guess I must have looked quite a sight.
Anyway I got down to business. For a while I toyed with Sandy's fanny and excited her clitoris. A little tongue work also came into play and I could feel her body writhing beneath me despite the many miles of rope that pinned her to the couch.
Finally, when I'd given Boris something to look at for a good ten minutes, I scaled upon the couch to lie between Sandy's legs. I entered her. My dick slipping smoothly into an already excited passage.
I started to pump away. Slowly at first, but quickly the tempo built up and in the end I was going at it at a rate of knots. I climaxed and came, and I remember grunting loudly as I shot my load deep inside of her. To be quite honest, at this stage in the proceedings, I'd completely forgotten about Boris looking on. I turned my head momentarily to see that he had his own dick out and was working himself off. I quickly looked away again. It was a horrible sight. Anyway, I smiled and hoped that he had enjoyed the show as much as I had done.
About thirty seconds afterwards I heard Boris clapping his hands. I dismounted the couch and took a bow.
And that signalled the end of the show.
After that, Sandy was released and I got dressed again.
It was now pay time.
Boris suggested that we all move from the study to the bedroom. As we passed through the door I smacked Sandy on the bum. She understood the signal and made for the bathroom. This was all part of my cunning plan. I'd told her to go in there and stay there until I called. I wanted to be with Boris alone. I didn't know exactly how I would do it, but ultimately my plan was to put a bugging device inside that briefcase of his.
No sooner had the bathroom door closed when Boris collected his briefcase from inside the wardrobe. He placed it on the bed and opened it up. One noticeable thing was that the big brown envelope was missing. I wondered where it had gone to? My suspicion was that someone on that commercial ferry from Dover to Dunkirk was the recipient, but I had no way of telling.
There was a wallet inside that had not been in there before. Presumably it was in his jacket when he visited Hugo's club.
Boris took out the wallet and opened it up.
"I'm sorry, but I only have French francs on me," he told me. "Will that do?"
I nodded my head.
"As long as it's worth the five-hundred pounds as agreed, then I don't mind," I answered.
Boris counted out 5000 francs in 500 franc notes into my hand. He then added one more making a total of 5500 francs. With the exchange rate just over 10 francs to the pound I reckoned I had something like 540 pounds in my hand.
"That is worth more than five-hundred pounds," he informed me.
I closed my hand and gripped the money. I wasn't going to give him any change.
"That will do nicely thank you," I told him.
Boris smiled and did not argue
"Then I thank you both for your brilliant performance. It was most enjoyable," said the German. "Perhaps we could do it again some day?"
I doubted that very much, but I did not tell him so. We shook hands. It was time to go. I gave the impression that I was waiting for Sandy. I fidgeted on the spot and looked to my watch. I shook my head in despair.
"She's got a weak bladder," I told Boris. "You won't believe how many times we have to stop."
He only laughed.
"Would you like a drink whilst we're waiting? I've got shorts, or I've got beer in the fridge," asked Boris.
Suddenly I saw the opportunity I was looking for. There was a small drinks cabinet in the bedroom. I could see a bottle of whisky there along with a soda siphon. It was all very tempting, but I resisted that temptation and asked for a beer.
"I think a beer would go down nicely," I told him.
"And your lady friend?" asked Boris.
I shook my head.
"Best she doesn't drink anymore tonight," I said, "She'll be popping to the loo all night."
Boris gave a little knowing smile as if he understood the problem.
"I'll get you a beer then," he told me.
I already had my hand in a pocket and one of those little microphones stuck to the end of my finger. No sooner had Boris disappeared into the kitchenette then I moved across to the briefcase on the bed. Quickly I stuck the bugging device deep down behind the flap in the lid.
I was standing at the bottom of the bed when Boris returned. He had two small bottles of French beer in his hands. The French seem to prefer bottles to cans. He handed one to me. I unscrewed the top and held the bottle in the air.
"Cheers," I said.
"A votre sante," answered Boris, and saying something in French that translates roughly as ' to your health'.
For a while there was silence whilst we both sipped our beers.
I was about to call Sandy, which was the signal for her to come out, when Boris asked me a question.
"I gather you are on your holidays. Are you going anywhere in particular?" he enquired.
I thought for a while. I couldn't really say that I was following him, now could I? So I thought of something quickly.
"We're planning on heading south. Somewhere where it's a little warmer," I told him.
"Spain perhaps?" suggested Boris.
"Perhaps," I replied and remaining vague.
"I can recommend Barcelona at this time of year," said Boris. "It just starts to warm up about now."
I nodded my head as if considering the proposal.
"Yes, perhaps we will. I've got a fortnight off and a few days down there should go down a treat," I told him.
Boris fumbled in his briefcase and took out a stack of business cards held together by an elastic band. I crossed my fingers and hoped that he wouldn't notice that the card for the stonemasons in Toulouse was missing. He sorted out a card and handed it to me. I read it. It was for a BDSM club in Barcelona called the 'El Calabozo'.
"If you do get to Barcelona, then you must visit this place. I recommend it," Boris informed me. "There are some good girls there, they'll give you a good time, or you can go as a couple and do your own thing. They are very flexible."
I stared at the card a little longer.
"Why, thank you," I said.
"Just tell them Boris sent you," the German added, "and I'm sure they'll let you in."
"I'll do that then," I confirmed.
Boris looked to the bathroom door. I guess Sandy had been in there quite some time.
"Is she all right?" he asked.
"Sandy, we're going now," I called.
No sooner had I spoken when Sandy came out of the bathroom. She must have been waiting on the inside of the door. She came out to stand by my side and we held hands. She looked at me lovingly. I hoped that she was still acting.
"Well Boris, perhaps we'll meet up again somewhere," I said and holding out my free hand.
"Perhaps in Barcelona," he said with a wink.
"Perhaps," I replied.
After that we made for the door and Boris let us out.
"Good night and pleasant dreams," he called as we set off down the long corridor.
I returned the greeting with a wave, then, with Sandy still holding on tightly to my hand, we made our way back to our room.
After that, much to Sandy's dismay, we got into our separate beds and slept.
It had been a long hard day.

* * *

End of Chapter Sixteen