The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey (18 page)

She dabbed at her eyes with a Flemish lace handkerchief that had belonged to her mother, and was returning her attention to
the racing form when suddenly Dirk reappeared, running toward her with an alarmingly white face. “She’s here!” he croaked
breathlessly, and tugged on her arm. “She’s here, Honey! In one of the boxes. Down there. Come look!”

“Kolina?”

“Yes, for God’s sake, who else? I walked right by her and almost didn’t see her. Can you believe our luck? It’s holding true,
huh? Come on, take a look before she disappears again!”

Honey popped to her feet, hurrying with him to the terrace railing. “Is Bouscaral with her?”

“I didn’t see him, but the same two thugs are. The ones from Central Park,” he said in a rush, and pointed. “Down there, third
box from the center aisle. See? That incredible blonde. That’s her. That’s Kolina Svensen or I’m a complete jackass. Here,
take a good look at her through the glasses.” He whipped the binoculars from around his neck and thrust them into her hands.
“What should we do? We can’t let her get away again.”

“Cool it, will you? And stop jostling me, I can’t focus.” She slowly adjusted the lenses, bringing into sharp detail the breathtaking
face of Kolina. Dirk’s imagination had not played tricks on him; this was the girl from his photos
and one of the loveliest, most enchanting presences Honey had ever laid eyes on. Kolina possessed an irresistibly beautiful
face, huge innocent blue eyes, a complexion of pure peaches and cream, a graceful jawline, and a pert, saucy nose. Her hair
was the color of white beach sand, and what little of her figure Honey could see was surprisingly voluptuous for a girl barely
sixteen. “No wonder you’re ga-ga over her,” Honey murmured, still observing Kolina under the magnifying lenses. “She
is
spectacular.”

“I told you, I told you, didn’t I? She is pure magic,” Dirk rambled on, beside himself with exhilaration. “I can’t believe
our luck, Honey. Of all the places in all the world…”

She said as she lowered the glasses, “Now the question is, what the hell do we do about it? We can’t just barge down there
and kidnap her.”

“Why not? That’s what that damned Bouscaral did.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Honey said with sisterly caution. “He’s an extremely powerful and wealthy man. We don’t want
to take any chances.”

“Well, think of something!”

“I’m trying to,” she replied, and marched back to their table to down the rest of her drink. The sight of the two bodyguards
on either side of the blonde had given Honey pause; no telling if they were armed. They certainly looked like the kind who
would be—all gristle and sweat. Probably loyal to boot, and dumb as hell. Swiftly she examined the options as Dirk remained
at the railing, his eyes glued on his beloved Kolina. Even his posture indicated the extent of his ardor; he was bending over
the railing like a wet noodle. Honey promptly formulated an idea and returned by his side. “Here’s what we’ll do…”

Moments later, the brother-sister team put into action her daring plan. With Dirk watching from a distance, Honey sidled into
the empty box next to Kolina and her
guards. She sat next to the iron-pipe railing separating the two boxes and made certain the two thugs caught not only her
eyes, but an eyeful of her figure. She was wearing a fetching afternoon dress by Halston, a simple clinging sheath of emerald
jersey, cut low in front, exposing a healthy swell of snowy bosom. Her deep red hair was swept up under a wide-brimmed straw
hat, and square-lensed dark glasses covered half her face. After tossing them a disarming smile, she pretended to be absorbed
in her racing form, and then looked over to the guard sitting just on the other side of the metal railing. “Excuse me,” she
purred in halting French, “but I need some help. Would you be so kind?”

He indicated that he would be more than happy to oblige, and she leaned across the railing into him, pointing to the confusing
statistics in her racing form. Heads bent together as much as her wide-brimmed hat would allow, they computed the chances
for her chosen horse to place in the next race. The other guard, on the far side of a bored-looking Kolina, was watching them
with obvious jealousy. Honey flashed him a come-hither smile, and he bounced abruptly over to them, kneeling down between
them to offer his expert advice. Honey plied her considerable charms on them, brushing a full breast into one, touching the
other’s knee with an intimate but innocent gesture. She kept bending forward over her racing form, her breasts spilling out
of her tight dress like fresh cream. The two thugs, whose accents told her they were from Marseilles, were so taken by her
that she moved into the next phase of her plan.

Urging them to come with her to place the bet on their mutually chosen horse, Honey managed to get them out of their box.
Unfortunately they brought Kolina with them. As Honey walked in front of them, she spotted Dirk, his face hidden in a newspaper.
A few steps farther
on she glanced casually over her shoulder and spotted him following several paces behind. Upstairs, just before the lines
winding out from the betting windows, she approached the first-aid room. With a sudden swoop she latched on to the nearest
guard and, giggling suggestively, dragged him into the room. Fortunately it was empty. The startled man put up little resistance,
and even less as she pressed him against the wall, rubbing her heavy breasts into him and reaching for his basket of goodies.
Before he could blink, she had his dick out in her hands and had sunk to her knees, placing it in her mouth like a babe at
its mother’s tit.

She was just working his member up into a healthy-sized hard-on when the second guard stuck a sour face into the room to see
what the hell was going on. He was so surprised to see her sucking away that he stepped into the room to castigate the first
guard. Not missing a stroke with her mouth, she reached for the newcomer’s hand and pulled him toward her. In one deft movement
she unzipped him and pulled his cock out also. As the two men stared down in pleased astonishment, she began alternating her
attention, first sucking on one, then on the other. Back and forth she went, her mouth like a metronome, her hands caressing
and tugging and stroking. Their, cocks, like their bodies, were a perfect matched set—thick and stubby. Their short, powerful
legs were splayed wide, and their barrel chests were heaving under their tight suitcoats. Each had a sweaty hand jammed down
inside her dress, cupping one of her breasts, tweaking and pinching her distended nipples.

With a burst of air through his squashed nose, the first guard came in her mouth. Immediately, as he pushed his thick dick
back into his pants to zip up, she inhaled the second cock, washing it with the semen of the first. This guard, however, was
more dedicated to his chosen
profession. At once he growled at the first to go check the girl. Honey, realizing that Dirk must have had enough time by
then to speak to Kolina alone, did not bother to finish off the second guard. Pretending a coughing fit, she gagged on his
cock and, gasping for air, stood, wiping her mouth apologetically. He frowned in disappointment and made a grab for her pussy.
She let him have a quick feel before pushing him away. He muttered in French that she was a damned whore and she laughed gaily,
hurrying out of the room, losing herself quickly in the milling mob lined up to place bets.

As planned, she met Dirk in the private lounge reserved for members. “What’d you do in the first-aid room?” he demanded as
she reached his table.

She winked. “That’s irrelevant. Did you get to Kolina?”

Glumly he nodded and took a healthy swallow of his Scotch and water. “Just as I expected. She
is
being held against her will. She recognized me at once and ran right to me, begging for help.”

“Why didn’t you whisk her off right then? I sure as hell gave you enough time.”

“I was going to, but Bouscaral showed up,” he growled, and downed his drink.

“Henri’s here? Where?”

“How the hell should I know? He just appeared and grabbed hold of her and hustled her away. Goddamn, Honey, we were so close
to getting her. And now she’s lost again. Maybe this time forever.”

She patted his shoulder, speaking softly. “Nothing’s forever, Dirk. We’ll find her. And this time we’ll get her away for good.”
She pulled him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go thank our host, the Major General, and get back to the hotel. If Bouscaral’s
in Hong Kong, he can’t go far, can he?”

* * *

They returned to the Shangri-La Hotel in Honey’s rented Bentley limousine, and as Dirk hurried into the phone booth to begin
checking with the other five-star hotels, she went to the front desk. “Do you have Henri Bouscaral registered?”

The polite young man checked his registry. “Yes we do, miss. Are you here for an interview with him?”

“Well, yes I am,” she said quickly. “Tell me, what is he looking for?”

“A governess for his niece, I believe. But he’s requested that only French-speaking women apply.”

“
Tres bien
. Would you make an appointment for me? My name is Claudine Fortel.”

Honey did not tell Dirk of the propitious new opportunity until they were upstairs in the double suite of adjoining rooms
she had booked earlier for them. As she hurriedly undressed in her bedroom, she shouted through the open door, explaining
her new plan, concluding with, “So I’ve got till six tonight to become Claudine.”

Dirk rushed to the open doorway, obviously upset. “I’m not going to let you do this, Honey. It’s too dangerous. You have no
idea what this jerk is like.”

Dressed only in her French-cut panties, she pawed through her closet of traveling clothes. “I should wear something sedate,
shouldn’t I? Don’t want him to think I’m too worldly.”

“Dammit, Honey,” he railed. “You’re not going through with this.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” she teased, and yanked out a black crepe dress with a matching box jacket. “This should do. I doubt
he’ll recognize it as an original Yves St. Laurent.”

He ran to her, jerking her around by the arm to face him. “What about the guards? They’ll recognize you in a flash.”

She smiled sweetly. “I plan to dye my hair. What do you think of a seal brown? Or should it be stark black?”

“Bouscaral is a goddamned pervert,” he shouted. “A kidnapper and a raper of innocent girls. Who knows what else? He’s the
Prince of Kink, remember?”

“I’m perfectly aware of all that,” she said softly. “You’re a sweet thing to worry about me. But don’t, okay? I know what
I’m doing. Just think of Kolina. If I can land this job, I’ll be perfectly situated to help her escape.” One arm covering
her full white breasts, she kissed him on the lips and brushed back a lock of stubborn hair from his forehead. “It’s too good
an opportunity to pass up. It’s our lucky day, Dirk. I won back on lucky number seven the three grand you blew in Shanghai,
and you found Kolina again. And now this lucky chance. We’re on a roll, baby, we’re on a roll. Let’s go for it.”

Two hours later, Honey had completed the major portion of her physical transformation into Claudine Fortel. In the luxuriously
large bathroom of her hotel suite, she had dyed her dark red hair a deep seal brown and, after it had dried, pulled it back
tightly off her exquisite face, sweeping its healthy thickness into a flattering French roll, leaving wisply tendrils around
her face to soften the severity. As her brows and lashes were naturally a deep auburn, she left them that way and had applied
a minimal amount of makeup, a mere hint of cheek blush and a pale lipgloss.

Standing before the full-length mirrors, still clad only in her pink bikini underwear, she narrowed her eyes and surveyed
the results with growing satisfaction. “Goodbye, Honey,” she murmured to her image. “Hello, Claudine.” She was about to dress
when she thought of one additional matter—something that would give her away to the more
intimate viewer. Slipping off her panties, she scissored away her fiery red bush and then, lathering her entire mons veneris,
carefully shaved it as clean as a baby’s. Satisfied that there was little else that hinted at her former self—except her voluptuous
figure—she struggled into a brassiere two sizes too small, pushing and mashing her full breasts into the uncomfortable confines.

A short time later she emerged fully dressed and fully transformed, a pair of hastily purchased black-rimmed glasses adding
the final schoolmarmish touch. Smoothing the trim skirt of the sedate black crepe dress, she walked primly into Dirk’s adjoining
suite and waited silently for him to turn away from the window. She cleared her throat to attract his attention and he swung
to her, his eyes growing wide with disbelief. “My God…” he sputtered.

“No…
mon Dieu
,” she replied with a half smile. Gracefully she pirouetted for him and with amusement watched the color return to his amazed
face.

“I… I can’t believe it,” he muttered finally, shaking his head.

“
Tres, tres bien
,” she replied, even her voice taking on another quality, more reserved, less confident. “If it meets your approval, I’ll
be off. Claudine/Fortel has a most important interview in less than ten minutes.”

“What if he checks your passport?” he demanded suddenly.

“I’m leaving all my ID here. A terrible misfortune, losing it all, is it not? I just can’t imagine what happened to it—one
minute it was in my purse, the next it had disappeared. Thieves, perhaps?” Honey smiled knowingly and started for the door.

“Wait,” Dirk said urgently, and moved to her. “I still don’t like the smell of all this. You are putting yourself needlessly
into danger.”

She paused, one hand on the hall doorknob. “Dirk,
relax. It’s all part of the game, no? I didn’t graduate
summa cum laude
from Wellesley for nothing. Smarts I have. Now if our luck holds, we’ll have Kolina away from him before dawn.” She stood
on her tiptoes and bussed him lightly on the lips. “I love you.”