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Take up Thy Samsonite & Walk Pt3 

By Meyer Lansky

THUD! THUD! THUD!....."Ronny? That you?" I croaked

"No its me you fool" said the yet unrecognisable female voice at the door.

"Come on then hurry up I'm getting cold" The now recognisable voice said.

It was Karen, I shot bolt upright in bed straight away, I felt a bit of muscle pain in the left shoulder region as I did. I surveyed the territory. I was alone in my messy Hotel room. What was Karen doing banging on my door at - I glanced at the Rolex on the bedside table - 9:30 in the morning?

"You letting me in or what?" Karen asked

The penny dropped when thoughts of the  previous day & night flashed around my mind; on a boat; eating in a restaurant; dancing the night away with Karen, then nothing. Had I embarrassed myself? probably. What shite had I been talking? loads. Did I try it on with her? undoubtedly. Apart from Karen the only other person who could answer those questions was Ronny, but standing between me and Ron, was Karen, who knocked one last time.

THUD!..."Come on hurry up" The quiet calm voice told me.

I slithered out of bed then made my way over the heap of clobber on the floor - only stopping to put on a pair of undies - then I answered the door. I was confronted by Karen dressed in only a two piece bikini,  dripping wet and she was using a small hand towel to dry her locks. She confidently strode in the room and right into my bathroom. This manoeuvre puzzled me even further. Maybe she did spend last night here?. I quickly scanned the room for a thong or bra, but nothing. She strode out the bathroom with a big white fluffy towel in her hands and plonked herself on the edge of the bed. I was a puzzled man, standing in front of her with a not-quite-so-sure-whats-going-on-kipper, trying to poke me lazy lob back in the Calvin's. She sensed my not coming forwardness and spoke first.

"You said last night that I could come and use the pool & stuff in your hotel, so here I am. I've ordered us two breakfasts and the cold beers down at the pool are ready when you are"

"Oh..er..right" I spluttered

With that she stood up (she had high heels on foot fetish fans) and tinkered over to me twirling the towel, she then hooked me around the neck with it and pulled me towards her. We fell back on the bed, where she gave me the creme de la creme of all wake up calls - if Carlsberg done wake-up calls then this would be it.

The awkward after sex speak was quite entertaining and flowed along at a steady pace, when Karen regaled me in my actions from the evening before.......

We danced all night until they thrown us out the bar, that's when I took the knock and collapsed, when I was hit with the fresh air outside. My legs went west and my noggin went into orbit - last seen somewhere south of Pluto. Karen stayed with me while Ron and the girls headed off into the heat of the night to dance. She got me to a park bench and held my head between my legs while I gargled with some taglitelle. I was playing the wounded WW1 soldier to her Florence Nightingale and she played her part like a  trooper (What is it Jay Z sings " I gotta girl from the projects and that's my heart" ).  At one stage she dragged my skinny 9 stone beak ravished body, 400 yards to the taxi rank and after getting me in the lift and into my room - with the help of the night porter - she then undressed me, put me in bed then tried to get me hard so she could fulfil her own horny feelings, by sucking me off for about an hour....the little minx (I just kept groaning every few minutes apparently), she then got jaw ache and left. Only to return in the morning in all her Ursula Andress glory.

Guffaws of belly aching proportions were heard from her perfect mouth and lips, when she was trying to describe my dancing. She likened it to ..and I quote "A Bez two-step lurch forward, followed by a quick 'mash potato' finished off with an 'Ace Face Sting from Quadraphinia' Louie Louie shuffle to the left then right  and a click of the fingers". I said that sounds ace, she reassured me it wasn't. This hurt my feelings, so I twatted her with a pillow and this turned into a full on pillow fight which ended with sex.

The next couple of days we became joined at the hip - when she wasn't in work she was in my bed!  She got a few days off and we decided to drive up the coast in a snazzy Alfa Romeo GTV Twin Spark Coupe.  . It was  a ferociously intense few days, every-time we were on our own (car/beach/hotel room) we were indulging in things of a carnal nature. Sometimes I couldn't keep up as her insatiable thirst turned me into a quivering wreck and I ended up doing what most couples end up doing when holidaying together , I fucked off to the local bar for some peace and to watch the football.

On my return, we chiselled up and drank the mini-bar dry. During our most jabbering state, we got weighed down in a certain amount of broken biscuit spiel on the subject of love. Have you ever been in Love? Who was you first love? and have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't 've fallen in love with? ...yer know all that crap. On the first question (have you ever been in love?) I went on some out-of-this-world (I mean that in a far-out way, not a good way) rant about it being...'not all about falling in love with your partner, it's all about finding a compatible partner, one that fits into your way of living, one that laughs at yer jokes and sometimes makes you laugh.  Puts up with all your gripes and doesn't moan to much!  You could introduce her to your mates with out the fear of her showing you up and coming out with a comment like .."Oh I like football, hasn't that Brian Riggs got dead sexy legs?". She must be sexy, clever and just someone you can sit down with and have a dead good chin wag with.'

"You mean like us two now?" she interrupted

"Yeah but that's because we're wired" i fired back without thinking. I had a think and then followed it up with "Like,  would we be having these types of early morning talks" I glance down expecting to see my time piece, but i remember it's on the bedside cabinet next to the chilled bottle of Bollinger.  I go over and check the time on the Rolly, spark a ciggie and start to sort another stripe out then I continue with the conversation " if we were a normal couple, yer know like ones that get to bed at reasonable hours so they get up for work....you'd have your face pack on and be snoring yer head off.....me I'd be scratching me arse and farting......whatever we were doing we certainly wouldn't be snorting 'gun-powder' at ungodly hours of the night talkin' toffee....and thats the whole crux of the matter, many a relationship has been thrown together with the help of this powder [as I point down to the mound on the mirror with one hand and busy chop a cheeky little line with the other].....SSSSSSNNNIIIIIIFFFFFFF! and there lies your problem, because of this stuff couples are forced together on false pretences..... she's out one night clubbing it in town, she ends up popping round to this guy Juliann's pad, someone took a guitar, the beak come out, the place went mad.....blah blah blah.....she get s cornered in the kitchen by some young chancer and with his gift of the gak she falls for his charms....he's the life & rubber soul of the party, always cutting & clever with his put downs to the other guests, that just make her howl.....she ends up back at his flat were they  both discuss putting the world to rights before tearing the back out of eachother then get their nuts down....she thinks she's found the right man who ticks all the right boxes......charming, considerate, funny with a well toned body and Brad Pitt features........but what she doesn't realise is that after the initial high of going out on the gak and the partying side of their relationship, there must come a low, when she sees the other-side to lover boy...the times when he doesn't want to be the drugged up class clown and keep everyone entertained....those days when he just lies on the couch in his dressing gown bringing himself down into a deep dark depressing mood by watching numbskull afternoon telly.....could she put up with his moods swings then , as he throws a scolding cup of tea at her......what I'm basically trying to say is, once you've found the right person who loves you for just being you and puts up with all your problems, then you have fallen in love with the right person.

"Have you ever found the right person?" she said with haste and before i could get another 500 words in.

"I've come close a couple of times, but they always seem to fall at the last fence" me making it sound like the Grand Nation.

"Which fence am I at in this filly steeplechase then?, the Chair? Canal Turn? or Valentines Brook?" she mewed like a hungry cat while keeping on with the Aintree theme.

"You girl, you've not even crossed the Melling Road yet"  we both fell about laughing, I  then Gingerly McCain'd her red rump for the fourth time that day.


"Chains, my baby's got me locked up in chains
but they ain't the kind that you can see"

"FUCK OFF" I snarled

"all right then come with me today on a tandem parachute jump, instead of acting like some lap dog waiting for Karen to finish work, come and get some adrenaline coursing through them veins instead of coke, vodka and lovesick juice" Ron threw down the gauntlet.

"Two fuckin' right- I'll show ya" I accepted the challenge.

The seriousness of the challenge hit home when we had to fill out one of those 'have you ever had any heart problems?' type questionnaires and we were still only in the bloody shop booking the dam thing. After paying, some dude drove us and two other people (a Jap boyfriend girlfriend combo early 20's) to the airfield out in the 'burbs. It was at this stage when my bottle well and truly went; I'm not that clever on heights, I sometimes get a sick feeling when I fly and I like to keep my feet firmly on terra firma. What the fuck was I doing here stood in a bright orange jump suit watching a couple of black dots hurl themselves out of a (what turned out to be) a rickety old , stumpy looking little lite aircraft , which had carpeted walls in side. The instructor instructed us that when the plane landed it was our turn to board. We got padded up with our tandem jumper and you've guessed it, mine was called Brad! Brad was a pure addict for adrenaline - we had ten minutes to spare before our plane was ready for take off, Brad used this time to do a quick fly by over the tops of the trees on a micro-light.

I got strapped to Brad with the use of some kind of harness that wouldn't look out of place in a Rocco Sifreddi movie. We go through a couple of safety checks and its all systems go. It was at this stage when I confronted Brad over a couple of things.

"Bet your dead use to this and have done it a hundred times" I laugh off to him trying to disguise my I'm shitting my kecks feeling.

"Your my second one as it goes" he said with a glimmer of madness in his bulging eyes.

A few months earlier I remember reading a story in a paper about some fella and an instructor doing a tandem jump and the chute didn't open, the heroic instructor - when hurtling to the ground at a hundred mile an hour - spun around allowing his body to take the full impact when smashing in to the earth. This killed the instructor of course but saved the other man. I asked Brad if he would be so heroic in face of such adversity.

"Hell no!" he laughed, then done the 'Lets Rock' hand signal.

I'd paid to have  my jump videod, so I had Brad's equally mad bird, follow me round with a camcorder strapped to her helmet. You can see the sheer terror on my boat when I get filmed in the plane just before my jump. When I get to the door of the plane I should of crossed my arms, counted 1-2-3 with Brad then jumped. What I did do was cross my arms and instead of 1-2-3 I gave it a 'YOU'LL NEVER - WALK - ALOOOOOOOONNNE' then jumped.

I can't remember much about the jump, but some highlights from the video are of me saying "fuckin' brilliant' about 75 times, then another 50 times when I make my perfect landing and go over to greet Ron, who had just finished his jump.

My legs were like jelly for the rest of the day and my head had a certain floaty feeling to it (like I'd been on the glue). We got our ride back in to the city and stopped off at the offy for some James Squire Amber, then we returned to Ron's flat. Once there we found two barely dressed ladies getting ready for work. I had my usual flirt with Martha the Brummy as our paths crossed outside the bathroom. Martha was a funny dark haired sweet heart with a ravishing rack (think Flavia from strictly come dancing), she was also off her fucking trolley and loved getting high. She could sniff out drugs at a party quicker than a police sniffer dog and with her wackiness she was good to be around. Ron reckoned he was in like Flyn, but I know this is all bravado with my inside knowledge.

She went on about some party she was going to afterwork up in Surry Hills and it was at that moment when my brain gave me that knowing signal - that always happens when I'm confronted by a half naked lady - that signal that makes the brain go 'I want to fuck you'...... she turned around before shutting the bathroom door and said "why don't ya come to the party? It could be interesting" she finished off with a wink and a pucker of her lips.

I went back to the front room and me & Ron watched the skydiving vid again and Sarah the other barely dressed babe was tonging her hair in the background. Sarah from Tewkesbury was Martha's best mate, after they mate on Gran Canaria many moons ago when they were both dancers in some club in Puerto Rico. Since their meeting they have never left each-others side and have travelled the world working together. Ronnie Rumour has it that they had been escorts and use to do a lesbian show. I had my suspicions myself when questioning them on their time spent in Dubai, they would come over all coy when probed about spending time as 'Nannies' for some rich Arab oil tycoon. They both wore an identical gold pendant around their necks of an Arabs dagger (presents from Sheikh 'brewster'  Maktoum & family).

What ever the claims and the counter claims, the image of those two fingering eachother gave me a whopping stonker at times. Especially those times when your pumped full of adrenaline, beer & beak, you've just watched yourself Jeronimo out of an airplane from 14,000ft, then spin towards the earth at a lightning speed and now your watching two crackers wind you up while they get ready for work in their knickers and bras. They know exactly what they're doing and they don't disappoint - playing with each-others hair in front of the mirror, then bending over and stroking each-others leg and all that. A few lines off the coffee table and they were gone, off to work in a haze of foundation, eyeliner and the sweet smell of Coco Chanel.

After spending two day partying and the last twelve hours at work, Karen got home shattered and a little bit run down. She plonked herself in an armchair and ordered a cup of tea, I could see the funny look off Ron as I made my way to the kitchen to prepare her brew.

"I'm off to see a man about a dog see you lovers later" I heard after being in the kitchen for a few minutes, along with the slamming of the front door as Ron fucked off for the night.

The cunt!, I bet he'll end up at that party with the rug munching pair while I'm stuck here with Lady Muck sprawled out on the couch. I took the cuppa in to Karen who was indeed on the couch wrapped up in a duvet. We snuggled up and watched a film ' The King Of New York'. I wasn't really paying much attention to the film (I'd seen it hundreds of times) my mind was more on what Ron was up to with his brace. And when 'Am I black enough for you' by Schooly D bellowed from the Bose speakers , accompanying that party sequence in the film were all kinds of hell raisin' is going on, I could only think of one thing. i had to go and give Ron a hand, but how could I do it without pissing Karen off? My prayers were answered and a miracle happened when she fell asleep and started snoring and I fucked off to find Ron & the girls. Would I regret my actions in the morning? probably. Did I care? not one bit. I had the scent of fresh pussy under my nose and I was off on a hunt.

Will I meet up with Martha & mate to have mad, mind blowing ménage à trois sex?  Or will my conscious get the better of me and I return to mop the brow of the poorly sick Karen....Tune in next month to find out.



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