Monica's Place
A story in 24 Chapters
"Mr Reynolds, this
is Monica Armstrong, mistress of the house," Jillian announced, before
leaving and closing the door behind her. It was then that the penny finally
dropped. I guess I grinned stupidly, with the realisation that this elegant
woman was the slightly gawky girl I had known all those years ago. Monica
smiled. "I thought it was you - just a hunch I had from your advertisement.
You always did want to be a builder." She was not just elegant, she was
stunning. As she shook my hand I saw she was as tall as I was, her
penetrating blue eyes looking directly into mine. The jet-black hair was
now shorter - just touching her shoulders and impeccably styled. Like Jillian,
her attire was suited to the warm weather. A deep emerald green colour,
her dress was short and simple, with a plunging neckline set off by a gold
choker collar. I could not help but notice that Monica's figure had certainly
developed since my last memory of her. Her cleavage was a striking cream
against the material of the dress. "I was hoping it was you, Steven.
Even if I had been wrong, I still need a genuine builder. I feel more comfortable
now, knowing it is you. I think I have some work that may be a little
out of the ordinary, but it may nevertheless interest you." And that
was how the whole thing started. |
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Monica's Quest
A story in 12 Chapters
The whole story
began with the video we made. Looking back with twenty-twenty hindsight,
we'd never have even considered the venture if we'd had any inkling where
it would lead us. But let me start at the beginning.
The mood was
relaxed in the living room of Bilboes. It was one of the rare occasions
when all the girls were gathered together without one or more being engaged
in the pleasuring or tormenting of a client. Monica, methodical as
ever, had planned to make an evening of this, the first 'public' airing
of her video. Over two months in the making, it was intended to advertise
the virtues of Monica's establishment. Mind you, 'virtues' was probably
the wrong word under the circumstances. Looking at the six females
around me I reluctantly admitted to myself that whatever favourable views
I might hold about these girls, 'virtuous' would not be high on my list
of appropriate adjectives for them or the establishment. |
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Monica's Revenge
The third in the Monica Trilogy
A story in 15 Chapters
Monica looked quite
stunning in the silver-coloured satin dress. It was sleeveless and had
a neckline that dropped to display enough cleavage to get a man interested,
but no so much as to provoke a riot in the foyer of the Concert Hall.
As we walked back to the car afterwards, the material shimmered under the
streetlights. The hem stopped just above her knee and she wore slim
silver sandals with an elegant heel and straps that wound halfway up her
calf. Over her shoulder swung the silver-sequinned handbag that completed
the ensemble. Her jet black shoulder length hair made a striking
contrast with the whiteness of her skin and the glint of the thin silver
choker at her throat. She had almost shown me up, coming dressed like that.
I had almost felt obliged to wear a tie. Almost. |
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Monica's
Games - Part I
Book 4 in the
Monica story
Like most disastrous
situations, the reason Mary, Trish and I came to be in Monica's Real Bad
Books began with an insignificant event. In this case it was a problem
with the closed circuit television. This was the reason I came to
be working in the Observation Room in the basement of Bilboes at eleven
o'clock at night. The main reason was that the room had been in use
for the whole day, and the bookings indicated it would be in use for the
next few days. Which was why I was on the night repair shift.
On this particular night, however, we had no overnight guests and there
was no supervisory night shift by the girls as a result. I had the
place to myself and was busy searching for what I thought was a loose connection
somewhere, when the light came on in Room One, the adjacent room that could
be viewed through the one-way mirror from the Observation Room. |
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Monica's Games - Part 2
Book 4 in the Monica story
The continuation of Monica's Games |
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Monica's Travel's
Book 5 in the Monica story
Bilboes was buzzing - that was about the
best way to describe things. In the
three weeks since we had won the round-the-world trip in the competition
against the Citadel, the girls had been talking of little else. There had been group discussions to sort out where we were going to go and what
we were going to see. Chiefly this
discussion was led by Leila, Emma and Shawnee, since they were the least
travelled and the most eager. Travel brochures were strewn about the house, not least on the back verandah,
where there had been much earnest planning going on. The travel agent that Monica used must have thought all her Christmases had
arrived at once, what with eight first class round-the-world tickets being ordered. Her
eyes must have been
lighting up like a taxi meter. |
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Monica & the Black Fortress
Book 6 in the Monica Series
Monica and the team set off to India
to rescue two slave girls sent there by the Earl of Penhros
from Symonds Yat Hall. The place where Monica and crew last had their adventure.
Whilst Mary and Trish recieve an unexpected visitor. |
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Monica's Justice
Captives Of Shark Island
Book 7 in the Monica Series |
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The Abduction of Monica
Part Eight of the Monica Series
The Last of the Monica Stories
Monica & Mary are kidnapped by unknown assailants, the only clues are videos sent to Bilboes. The team set out to find Monica ad are aided by a mysterious Russian cop who has some special abilities. |
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Vanishing Act
A 13 part story
My name is Jan Sherwood.
I'm thirty-four. I'm a nurse. No, I was a nurse. My occupation
was now prisoner, kidnappee, hostage, captive, slave, call it what you
will. I shall describe myself. I could walk across to the full-length
mirror that was fixed to one wall. It was covered by a piece of Perspex,
just in case I got any ideas about breaking the glass and slashing my wrists.
I could stand in front of the mirror and observe the reflected figure.
I am naked. This was my normal form of 'dress', if you could call
it such. I believed some or all of my clothes might be stored upstairs,
but I did not really know this. Nakedness was my normal state of
being - naked of body, naked of mind and naked of soul. I had long
since passed the stage of embarrassment, such have been the indignities
and humiliations that I had had to bear in that dungeon. |
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