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Subject: {ASSM} <*>{GALAGO} Alarms and Excursions (Vickie Morgan)
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WARNING: This story includes sexually explicit material.
Please note any unfamiliar spellings and phrases may be due to the
fact I am English, not American.
I would like to thank the proof-readers for all their help
Any comments, including constructive criticisms, would be
most appreciated. Please send to artemis55@hotmail.com
This work is copyrighted by the author. You may download and keep
one copy for your personal use as long as my by-line and e-mail
address and this paragraph remain on the copy. Any posting or
reposting on a website, other than the archive of the newsgroup or
Dejanews, or to a newsgroup requires my permission first (but I'll
probably say yes). This story should not, under any circumstances be
used to make a profit by anyone other than the author
======================================================================
Glossary
knackered - common expression for feeling really, really tired.
Something to do with take worn out horses to the knacker's yard, I'm
told.
York - a small city in the north-east of England.
A1 - the main motorway heading north in England.
OAP - old age pensioner
York Minister - the cathedral at York, which is floodlit at night.
======================================================================
Alarms and Excursions (FM cons)
by Vickie Morgan
I always hate being woken up by alarms, especially if it's before ten
o'clock in the morning. So I wasn't happy about being jerked awake in
the middle of the night. Especially when it had been a long tiring
day trying to explain the complexities of computers to a group of
beginners. You know, difficult things like how to turn it on and that
the mouse didn't squeak when you touched it. It had been one of those
hot, sticky days that pass for summer in England and leave you feeling
wrung out and totally knackered.
Since it was a week-long course, I was staying at a hotel in York
instead of travelling home up the A1 every night.
I don't know how hotels do it, but they can make the simplest meal
last an hour and a half. By the time I'd had some food, done all the
paperwork and the prep for the next day, and had a shower, it was
already after nine. It didn't take long to discover that, as usual,
there was nothing on TV, so the only sensible option was to settle
down for an early night.
It took a while for me to drift off to sleep, with the heat and the
hundred and one thoughts churning around in my head. But eventually
I was asleep and enjoying a bizarre dream about Xena and Seven of Nine
mud wrestling, when I was jerked awake. Since my dream had just got
to the interesting stage where clothes were coming off, I tried
unsuccessfully to go straight back to sleep. Eventually, it registered
in my drowsy brain that a bell was ringing. I fumbled for the alarm
clock, then the telephone, but still the ringing continued. I
stumbled to the door and stuck my head out. One of the hotel porters
was running down the corridor, knocking on all the doors.
"What's going on?" I asked unoriginally.
"Fire alarm, sir," he informed me. "Please leave the hotel
immediately and go to the assembly point, next to the big fountain in
the garden at the front. You can use the main staircase, but not the
lifts. Please hurry."
Even my befuddled brain comprehended that this was the real thing, not
a drill. All the occupants of the rooms on this floor had been
brought out into the corridor in the wake of the porter's door
hammering, and everyone was asking the same question I had, in one
form or another. Feeling slightly smug, I passed on the information I
had gleaned. Mild panic started to spread, but in a very reserved
British way. I wasn't too worried until I spotted a group of hotel
staff, all clutching fire extinguishers, run up the stairs and
disappear down the corridor on the floor beneath us. Suddenly
realising that this could be a serious situation, I followed everyone
else's example and dived back into the hotel room.
Trying to tell myself I wasn't panicking, I threw off my dressing gown
and yanked on some jeans and trainers. I pulled on my suit jacket,
and added my coat, checking that my wallet and car keys were in the
pockets. As I hurried down the stairs, I spared a passing thought for
all the computer equipment in the conference room, waiting for the
course tomorrow. However, I decided that I wasn't going to risk my
life for someone else's belongings. If the worst happened and the
whole place burnt down, I was sure they could claim on the hotel's
insurance.
It had been at least ten minutes since the alarm had started ringing,
but there weren't really that many people making their way down the
staircase. The hotel was a big, old building with a long, sweeping
main staircase, chandeliers bigger than my car, and a baby grand piano
in the lobby. The prices it charged tended to attract the older,
retired class of customers. Looking around the dining room earlier
that evening, I had estimated that the average age of the hotel guests
had to be around sixty-five. Not only were most of them slightly
deaf, but they were also slow moving and not inclined to appear in
public unless they were fully dressed.
I found myself in the midst of a group of elderly ladies who were
shuffling down the stairs, clinging to the banisters and each other.
It seemed rude to push past them, so I tried to patiently confine
myself to their pace. They were understandably flustered, and turned
to me for support and answers, as I was the nearest available male. I
soon used up my meagre stock of information, so I was pleased when I
spotted the Duty Manager hovering in a corridor. I told my ladies
that I would catch up with them outside, and went to cross-examine
him.
He couldn't really enlighten me much. Apparently, no one really knew
what was happening. Something had set off the fire alarm in the
section of the hotel that was currently being renovated. There was no
electricity in that wing at present, and no way to discover what had
caused the alarm without investigating further and in person. It
could be just a false alarm, but on the other hand it could be the
real thing. Feeling anything but reassured, I returned to the main
staircase and continued downwards.
Hotel staff were stationed in the hallways, directing us out through
the main exit. It would have been a bit more comforting if the staff
hadn't had such a struggle to look calm and professional. They kept
casting anxious looks upwards, and the general sense of anxiety was
starting to infect me. It seemed incredible that anything tragic
could happen in such genteel surroundings, but it was possible. Vague
memories of the fires at Bradford Football Ground and the underground
station at Kings Cross drifted through my mind. They were no more
unlikely locations for disasters than this hotel. I found myself
wanting to hurry, instead of walking decorously behind an elderly
couple.
I was conscious of a feeling of relief as I exited the hotel. The
sticky heat of the day had cooled to a pleasantly balmy night, with a
clear black sky splattered with stars. The hotel receptionist was
stationed next to the steps down into the garden with a torch, but
when I questioned her she knew less then I did about what was
happening. I obediently walked across the meticulously manicured lawn
to the big fountain. There was a circle of stone benches, but I left
them for the older guests and instead climbed on the rim of the pool,
looking around to try and discover where my group of ladies had got
to. Even at their slow pace, they must have exited the hotel by now.
Vague feelings of guilt for having abandoned them so cavalierly nagged
at me, as I strained my eyes trying to locate them.
I felt slightly anxious as I scanned the building, but I couldn't see
either wisps of smoke or flickers of flames. Guests were still
trailing out of the hotel, anxiously chivvied along by members of the
hotel staff. I amused myself by admiring the strange combinations of
attire people had chosen.
It's not surprising that she caught my eye. She was the only female
within my range of vision who was under thirty and not wearing a hotel
uniform. Instead she was clad in a long T-shirt that almost came to
her knees, with a trench coat over it, and an incongruous pair of
high-heeled shoes on her feet. The most noticeable thing was her
hair. As red as the flames I feared to see, it fell down her back in
a tangled mass. Somehow its unbrushed state made it obvious that she
had recently got out of bed, and I felt an involuntarily tightening in
my groin.
She was helping one of the old ladies down the stairs, steadying her
when she faltered, and giving her a reassuring smile. She supported
the frail woman across the grass and helped her settle on a bench.
She looked around at the bizarre scene, frowning as she pushed her
hair back from her face. I repressed the desire to offer to help with
her hair, as the look on her face made it clear, even to me, that she
was not in the mood for frivolities. She shrugged out of her coat and
wrapped it around an old man who was plainly shivering. Feeling
slightly guilty, I took off my own coat and offered it to the nearest
trembling OAP. I was surprised how cold so many of them were, but
then I have heard that your blood becomes thinner as you get older.
Since I found the night air pleasant enough, I took off my jacket and
offered it to another shuddering soul.
When I caught up with the red-haired girl, she had tracked down the
hotel manager and was cross-questioning him.
"You must have some idea how long we're going to be out here?" she was
saying.
"We have to do a roll call to make sure everyone is out, then the
firemen have to check the building and declare that it's safe before
we can return."
"Then you are going to have to get some blankets out here. You can
see how cold these people are," she insisted.
"I don't know if we could do that," he protested.
"Of course you can," she told him briskly.
"Once people have exited the building, they aren't supposed to go back
in," the manager explained weakly.
"There's still people coming out and you haven't done a roll call yet.
That's just not a good enough reason to make these people suffer."
"I'm sorry, madam," he began, but she interrupted him.
"Don't stand there calling me 'madam', get in there and get some
blankets organised."
She tossed back her hair and glared down her nose at him. I tried not
to admire too obviously the way her hard nipples were clearly
displayed through the thin T-shirt material. Instead I decided to
support her.
"Is there any real reason why you can't get some blankets? It's
obvious they're needed," I said calmly.
"Sir, I've just been explaining to madam here, that it's against
regulations." I could have sworn that I heard her grind her teeth
when he called her madam, and her fiery temper was evidently hotting
up. She opened her mouth to speak, but I jumped in first.
"Couldn't some of the hotel staff still inside be contacted and asked
to bring some blankets out here?" The manager was already shaking his
head before I had finished my suggestion.
"If you aren't willing to do what you should, you will force us to go
into the hotel and try to find some blankets ourselves," the girl
declared militantly. "If that happens, I'm sure we won't be the only
ones lodging complaints against you. Is that what you want?"
"Now then, there's no need for any of this. I'm sure I can sort
something out." He cast a flustered look at us, before backing off
and hurrying away.
"He'd best be quick about it, or I'm going after him," she declared,
generously giving me a share of the scowl she was aiming at the
retreating manager. I had been admiring the length of her legs and
trying to tell if she was wearing any underwear, but I quickly snapped
my gaze back to her face.
"You've done the best you can," I told her soothingly. "Why don't you
come and sit down. It looks like they're going to start the roll
call."
Sure enough, the receptionist was stood near to the fountain, shining
her torch on the register she had balanced on her arm, while also
trying to handle a megaphone. I wasn't too surprised to hear my
companion give an impatient sigh, then stride over and take the torch
and register off the receptionist. I followed her, and arrived in
time to help the receptionist climb onto the end of one of the stone
benches. I was handed the torch, and ordered to shine it on the page.
The receptionist took a deep breath, and pressed a button to activate
the megaphone. I don't know what she did, but it played a jaunty
little tune. I glanced towards the redhead, expecting her to be
furious, but was surprised to see she had dissolved into giggles. She
had a lovely smile, which suited her much better than a scowl. I
couldn't help laughing with her, and the receptionist caught the
infection and chuckled too. The atmosphere considerably lightened,
the roll call began. It was a haphazard affair, as names had to be
constantly repeated for the benefit of the hard of hearing and late
arrivals. Eventually the receptionist gave up, and climbed down.
My former perch on the pool's rim had been taken, and we had to go
around to the far side to find space to sit down. The arrival of a
fire engine created a stir of excitement, and I was pleased to see
some of the hotel staff emerge from the building with armfuls of
blankets. From where we sat, we had the tinkle of the fountain behind
us, and in front a shrubbery backed by trees, with floodlit York
Minister appearing to float above the treetops. I stole a sidelong
look at my companion. She was leaning back, supporting her weight on
her hands, with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her hair
swung free as she tilted her head back to look at the stars, and her
T-shirt clearly revealed the lines of her body. I could now tell that
she was definitely wearing no underwear, and arousal ran through me.
She couldn't know how lovely she looked and I had to fight to restrain
myself from placing my hand on her thigh and sliding it up under her
T-shirt. I smiled weakly at the old man sitting further along and
crossed my legs. Despite the discomfort it caused me, I continued to
admire her.
Soon the megaphone was brought into use again, to announce that it had
been a false alarm, and the hotel had been declared safe to re-enter.
She stirred and sat forward.
"Sorry," she offered.
"What are you saying sorry for?" I asked, guiltily wondering if she
was referring to my state of arousal.
"For being such a bitch," she explained. "I guess I was a little
scared. I hate not knowing what's going on."
"It's OK, I've had plenty of experience coping with control freaks," I
teased. "Besides, you were quite right, blankets were needed." She
gave me a grateful smile, then jumped to her feet. The benches and the
rim of the pool were now all empty. I had to lean to one side to look
past the bulk of the fountain and see the hotel entrance. Guests were
slowly wending their way back inside, but it was obvious they were
going to take a while. I sat back up and returned my attention to my
titian-haired temptress.
"It's silly because it was just a false alarm, but I feel as if I've
had a brush with death. And now I feel really, really alive." She
stretched her arms up and stood on tiptoe, then flung her arms wide
and spun around. My mouth went dry as I admired her lithe figure, and
I wanted nothing more than to catch hold of her and make love to her
then and there. Trying to control my wayward thoughts, I looked
around to see what everyone else was doing, but they had all departed
and we were alone. She was studying me with an unreadable expression
on her face.
"Don't you feel all revved up and twice as aware as you were before?"
she asked. I did feel revved up, but not really for the reasons she
was referring to. She was stood in front of me, and the junction of
her thighs was immediately in front of my face. I don't know if it
was my imagination, but I was sure I could smell her musky aroma. I
was trying to force my mind to less intimate thoughts, when she took
me by surprise by stepping closer to me and sitting down on my lap,
her legs astride me and my chin nestling in her cleavage. I was so
startled that I didn't know what to do, and froze, not even breathing.
"If the worst had happened, we could be dead right now," she
whispered, winding her arms around my neck. "But we're not, and I
think we should celebrate that." I didn't have to ask how she planned
to celebrate, because she dipped her head and placed a kiss full on my
mouth.
Her lips moved against my mouth, cool and firm, then her tongue was
sliding along mine, teasing and flirting. Her fingers tangled in my
hair, tipping my head to suit her whim, as she took her time exploring
my mouth. She knew how to kiss, and I was losing myself in the
sensations when I became aware that her other hand had trailed down my
chest and was know tugging at the buttons of my fly. I couldn't
believe this was happening. It was as if she had read my mind and
decided to fulfil my fantasies. The only thing shielding us from
public view was the central statue of the fountain. The thought of
someone catching sight of us only aroused me further. The bushes in
front of us and the backdrop of the falling water created an illusion
that we were in our private cocoon, but the murmur of voices and the
hum of the traffic reminded me that we were in the centre of a busy
city.
Then her hand was inside my trousers, and I stopped thinking and just
felt. The warmth of her hand, the cool of the night, her firm grip,
all focused my attention on my penis. She stopped kissing my mouth
and instead dropped to her knees and started an equally pleasant but
more intimate kissing. She tugged at my jeans while her mouth
embraced me, and I co-operated until my jeans were around my ankles.
As much as I was enjoying her ministrations I knew I wouldn't last
long, and I wanted this unique experience to last as long as humanly
possible.
I wrapped a handful of her incredible hair around my hand and gently
tugged her upwards. She immediately tried to guide my throbbing
erection inside herself, but I had other ideas. I pulled her onto my
lap and settled her comfortably. Then I did what I'd been wanting to
do for so long: I placed my hands on the silky smooth skin of her
thighs, and slid them upwards. My thumbs brushed her hidden curls as
my hands skimmed her hips and I felt her shudder. My palms glided up
her sides and over her breasts, feeling her nipples tighten as I
passed. I caught the hem of her T-shirt and lifted it over her head,
leaving the rest of the top around her neck and shoulders. Her arms
were tangled in the material, and she was effectively blind. She
trustingly arched her back and leant into me.
Her body in the starlight was a sight I knew I would never forget.
Satiny white skin, highlighted with pink tipped nipples, shimmered and
gleamed before me. Reverently, I ran my hands across her, feeling
honoured when she shivered and sighed at my touch. My mouth was
irresistibly drawn to her breasts, and I licked and nibbled them,
cupping their weight in my hands, caressing and fondling them. I was
so involved I didn't notice exactly when she freed herself from her
T-shirt, but her hands were gripping my shoulders, the bite of her
nails encouraging me as much as her murmurs and moans.
I was gasping for breath myself, become more rough as my grasp on my
self-control slipped. She didn't protest, but writhed against me
enticingly. In one swift movement, she raised her self up and then
impaled herself on my penis. It was like being engulfed in hot
velvet. She was tight and wet around me, and the slightest movement
produced exquisite friction. My hands closed over her bottom to help
her move and I buried my face between her breasts. Assaulted from all
directions with stimulation, I knew I wouldn't last long. And when
she suddenly stiffened and gave a high cry, gripping me tightly with
her thighs , fingers and vulva, I lost control, pounding into her,
pouring myself deep inside her, trying to make us one.
I don't know how long we sat there, clinging together as our ardour
cooled. Eventually, we began to feel the chill in the air, and
decided to make a move. A few moments searching was necessary to
locate all our clothes and footwear, then we made our way across the
lawn to the hotel entrance. I could tell that normal everyday
considerations had returned to my lover's mind. She was vainly trying
to tug her T-shirt a bit further down, and her arms were folded across
her breasts. She was trying to walk while keeping her thighs tight
together, and I couldn't help chuckling at the adorable picture she
presented, waddling through the ornate hallway. She shot me a
self-conscious look.
"It's OK for you," she hissed. "I have to try and make it to the
bathroom before I create a puddle. I just hope no one notices us."
Unfortunately, her hopes were immediately shattered. The hotel
manager came bustling up to see us, a porter following him with a tray
containing mugs of hot chocolate and glasses of brandy and our donated
items of clothing over his arm.
"Please accept these drinks, compliments of the hotel, to warm you
up," the manager said. "And here are your clothes that you so
generously shared. We do apologise for your disturbed night, sir and
mada..." He remembered his last conversation with us, and hastily
changed his sentence. "Er, Mr. and Mrs. Green, and we would like to
thank you for all your assistance." He gave us an ingratiating smile,
but my love just sniffed and hit the lift button. I thanked the poor
man and relieved the porter of his burdens, before following my wife
onto the lift. It might not have suited everybody, but I had
thoroughly enjoyed my night excursion.
Copyright Vickie Morgan, October 1999
E-mail artemis55@hotmail.com
This story is distributed free of charge for your entertainment. It
does take quite a lot of time and effort to write, type, edit and post
a story. All I ask is that you take a couple of minutes to e-mail me,
let me know that you've read this and perhaps give some reaction.
Thank you.
--
If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments
are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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