Audrey on Holiday

 

Audrey leafed absent-mindedly through the newspaper that the airline had so kindly provided her with. She was bored. Her course on “The place of knickers in modern society” didn’t start till the following day. Stuck in yet another hotel, in yet another town with absolutely nothing whatever to do! It was ten o’clock at night. Too late to go out, and at the same time too soon to go to bed. Anyway, she was in Wales, and everywhere was closed in Wales on a Sunday.

 

Her eyes fell on a strange paragraph; upon an article which at the same time interested her and gave her a funny tingly feeling. She looked at the headline: “Hotel staff get naked training”.

 

It was to say at the very least intriguing. Why should hotel staff get trained naked? But of course the article wasn’t about staff being trained while being naked; it was about staff being trained about how to deal with guests found wandering round the hotel naked.

 

Audrey’s eyes opened wide. ‘Wandering round the hotel naked.’ In all her years of travelling in Lady’s Underwear, she had never encountered a guest wandering around a hotel naked. It intrigued her. How did guests get naked in a hotel and start wandering round? It all seemed so funny and so well… exciting. How did they explain their predicament? She read on. Apparently the favourite explanation was sleepwalking!

 

She began to wonder… what would she do if she were locked out of her hotel room with nothing on. It would be so embarrassing. So, so embarrassing. She put down her newspaper and was horrified to find that her hand had wandered down between her legs, and had been gently massaging.

 

She pulled her dress over her head and looked down at her knickers. They were a little bit damp and she realised that she found the idea of walking round the hotel in the nude rather exciting, rather stimulating.

 

“Audrey,” she said aloud, “get a grip of yourself girl. You’re twenty-eight. You’re a respectable business woman. You don’t get excited by the thoughts of parading around in the altogether.” But as she the thought passed through her mind she felt her nipples going hard and rubbing on the inside of her Ladies Special Issue Uplift Brassiere. Absent mindedly she unhooked the Uplift Brassiere and slipped it off. She imagined herself sneaking quietly down the corridor, breathless in case somebody happened to come out of a door, and she was surprised to find that she’d been playing with her nipples.

 

“Audrey!” she admonished herself again, “What are you thinking about!” But no matter how hard she tried, the vision of herself naked in the corridor, or even on the stairs came back to her with renewed excitement.

 

She looked down again and found that without realising it she had slipped her knickers down and was playing with herself once more.

 

“Audrey!” she stood up, “Stop it at once. About time you were getting to bed young lady,” and she stood up, letting her knickers drop to the ground. She stepped out of them and made her way over to the bathroom.

 

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stared at her naked form. She stuck her chest out and pouted. She looked good, even if she said so herself. She was a dark brunette with a pretty, oval face and eyes which were brown, speckled with sage green. She was slim, but busty – the sort of shape that buyers liked to see in representatives who travelled in ladies underwear. She was medium height and well proportioned with long shapely legs that met in a neat triangle of short curly pubic hair. That would never have been allowed if she had modelled underwear, but she didn’t and she quite liked the look it gave her.

 

Her eyes fell on her crowning glory: her magnificent bosoms. For Audrey was, even though she said so herself, extremely well endowed.

 

"Thirty-eight, double D," she said to herself, sticking the magnificent specimens out even further, "Thirty-eight double D and nipples to match."

 

Despite their impressive size they were firm and jutted out without support like two bumpers topped by her firm and erect cherry nipples. She squeezed the right one.

 

"Honk honk!" She said giggling, and then the left. "Honk honk!"

 

She collapsed giggling again.

 

Despite the nature of her calling, she had always regarded herself as a serious girl, a career woman; people laughed at the idea of selling knickers, but she had never fallen into that trap. Knickers were serious things. There was money in knickers, and her reputation couldn’t be spoiled by frivolity.

 

Frivolity like prancing around in the nude! How strange that the idea kept coming back to her. At the very thought of it she felt herself moisten a little again. She wondered what it would be like – just to run up and down the corridor with nothing on. It would be a thrill; it would undoubtedly be a thrill.

 

Audrey looked at the door. Of course naked as she was, she couldn't go running up and down the corridor, but an idea occurred to her. If she just opened the door and peered out. It would be almost like running up and down the corridor but without the risk. Before she knew it she had crept over to the door, opened it up and was peering out. The corridor was deserted. She felt a terrific rush of excitement and in one moment she flung the door open ran across the corridor, touched the opposite wall and ran back into the room. She slammed the door shut, jumped on the bed and her hand went straight between her legs and pressed her button. Gosh it felt good. With the adrenaline rush and her finger on the spot her body felt totally worked up. She knew at that moment she was going to have to do it. She was going to have to run down to the end of the corridor and back. She couldn’t sleep until she'd done it!

 

Heart thumping she made her way to the door, opened it and peered out. She would have to do it, and she would have to do it now before she lost her nerve. She wedged the door open for a quick escape back in and stepped out into the corridor. Her heart was going ten to the dozen, but there was nothing for it. Walk down to the end of the corridor and back, she said to herself, nice and slowly. She set off shaking with nerves but with the rush of excitement that her adventure gave her, driving her on. She reached the end of the corridor and touched the wall. So far so good. She turned round and started to walk slowly back to her room thirty yards away. She heard a sudden creak as her door, loosely jammed back, and propelled by its self closing mechanism suddenly broke free and started swinging closed. With a sudden gripping sensation in her chest Audrey realised she was going to have to run and throwing caution to the winds she set off at top speed. She nearly made it. She so, so nearly made it. The door was closed but hadn't clicked shut and she was only a couple of feet away. But then she heard it. The ominous clicking noise as the latch clicked and the lock went home. She grabbed the door knob and twisted and pushed in frustration. But it was no good. It was well and truly locked, and she was locked out. Naked. Completely naked. Not a stitch of clothing on.

 

She wept in frustration. Whatever was she to do? She couldn't go down to reception. Not with no clothes on. There was only one thing for it. Try and find the room of one of the other girls on the course. Polly! That was it! Polly was on the top floor. Polly was one of the girls on the course. She had checked in at the same time as Audrey and she knew the room number. Room 571. She was sure it was room 571. If only she could get up there! It would be embarrassing. It would be bloody embarrassing. But what else could she do? She ran down the end of the corridor. There was nobody there! Only twenty yards to the stairs and she was running up them. Her heart was thumping away in her chest. She was getting further and further away from her room and she was stark naked. If only she could get up three flights she'd be there. Up one flight. Up two flights. Almost there - and then disaster. There were sounds of voices and footsteps coming down. Her heart leapt into her mouth. She turned to run down and found she was trapped. There were voices coming up the stairs.

 

There was nothing she could do! She was trapped. Not only was she going to be caught in the nude, she had no explanation of what she was doing there. What on earth was she going to do? Then a brainwave! What had been the excuse of those people in the paper? Sleepwalking! They had pretended to be sleepwalking. That was what she was going to have to do!

 

She had only the vaguest idea what people looked like sleepwalking. She stuck her arms out in front of her and stared straight ahead. She was sure she’d seen pictures of people sleepwalking who looked like that.

 

Hiram was in trouble again. It seemed to him that he was always in trouble.

 

"Well! What do you say to that?"

 

Hiram looked round panic stricken. He hadn't heard what Wilma had said. Sometimes it was easier to switch off. Sometimes though it was dangerous to switch off.

 

"Yes Honey," he said, sometimes it seemed to be the easiest thing to say.

 

"What do you mean 'Yes Honey', what sort of an answer is that supposed to be?"

 

Hiram didn't know what sort of an answer because he hadn't heard the question.

 

"No Honey," he ventured in the vain hope that that might suffice.

 

Wilma however came to his rescue.

 

"I asked you why you were staring at that girl’s tits Dumbo, and all you can say is 'Yes Honey' ‘No Honey' Dumbo!"

 

Hiram sighed. There was no answer to that question.

 

'I was looking at her tits because she had nice tits dear' was not an answer that would have helped him much. Wilma had her high heeled boots on. He had a horrible suspicion where her hard right boot was going to be aimed when they got back to their room. His hand automatically adopted a dangly protecting position.

 

Audrey listened as the voices got nearer and nearer. Oh no! She thought she was going to faint with fright. Then suddenly they were there. A young couple. Straight in front of her. Him short straight hair and glasses. Her a brassy blonde with a bossy face. Oh my God! They had stopped and were looking at her open mouthed. They were looking at her and she was in the nude. She thought she would die of embarrassment. She felt her face go bright red. She felt her nipples go rock hard. Surely they would notice. Surely they wouldn't believe she was sleepwalking!

 

She was looking straight ahead trying to look as if she didn't know they were there, but she could feel two pairs of eyes scouring every inch of her naked body and resting for an excessively long time on her little triangular tuft of pubic hair.

 

Then just when she felt she couldn’t bear it any longer the man spoke.

 

"Say Wilma, do you think she's sleepwalking?"

 

"Of course she's sleepwalking Dumbo! And you watch where you're putting your eyes. What do you think she's doing - playacting Lady Macbeth?"

 

Hiram was having great difficulty watching where he put his eyes. There straight in front of them was the most stupendous pair of tits he'd ever seen.

 

"Yes Honey," he said, "sure."

 

But his eyes never wandered.

 

Audrey gasped. They were American!

 

"I just wondered, Wilma. Shouldn't we wake her or something?"

 

"Don't be stupid Dumbo! It's a well known fact. If you wake somebody who's sleepwalking they have a fit and drop down dead!"

 

"I didn't know that, Wilma. What should we do?” Wilma's injunction regarding the object of Dumbo's gaze didn't seem to have had any effect. Audrey noted with increasing embarrassment that his gaze alternated from her left nipple to her right.

 

"You go tell that crazy desk clerk downstairs there's an emergency here. I'll look after her here. See if I can't get her back to her room."

 

Back to her room! That was it! Audrey breathed a sigh of relief. Excruciatingly embarrassing as it was all she needed to do was 'sleepwalk' back to her room, and it would all be over. She turned and walked into the corridor as she heard Dumbo's feet disappearing down the stairs.

 

Down in reception Owain Jenkins was explaining to Deidre on reception what a wonderful guy he was.

 

"You see," he said in his sing-song South Walian accent, "the thing about being a policeman is that you are trained, trained see, to act decisively in an emergency. Give me an emergency and I’ll show you, girl, what decisive action is."

 

Entranced, Deidre looked into his eyes. Owain looked back. I've got her, he thought, you’ll be in her knickers before the night's out, just you see, Owain boyo, in her knickers before the night’s out.

 

In this assumption he may however have been a little premature as Owain always believed that his line about being a decisive policeman would get him into a girl's knickers, and it never did so, not this millennium anyway; and it was said of Megan, his last conquest, that she was so prone to supine submission that a rusty bicycle would have got into her knickers, and indeed frequently did.

 

Deirdre looked at him doubtfully. She never settled for a cock less than six inches and she didn’t somehow think that the diminutive Owain would quite measure up. And he was still wittering on.

 

"Our training, see, means that when..." his voice trailed off as Deidre's attention was drawn to the sight of that daft American with the spiky hair and round glasses hurrying towards them across the reception.

 

"Miss!" He was shouting and gesticulating, "Miss! We have an emergency here on the third floor. We need help."

 

Deidre looked at her rather alarmed looking companion. Was that a sudden look of fear in his eyes? Surely not!

 

"Owain!" She said, "An emergency. You'll be able to show me some of that decisive action."

 

Owain looked back alarmed, "Well you see Deidre love, it's like this see, it's not that I'm like a real policemen, see. I'm like, a Special Constable."

 

"You're special!" gasped Deidre.

 

"Well yes, Special Constable, see, the sort of emergencies we are dealing with in the Special Constabulary. They’re more like seeing old ladies across the road the road safely. That sort of thing. We're not supposed to be dealing with your actual crimes, see, not you're actual criminal types!"

 

Deidre turned to the man with the spiky hair.

 

"What is the emergency Mr… Mr… Er…"

 

"Baumgarten, Hiram T. Baumgarten.“

 

"Mr. Bumgarden…"

 

"Baumgarten."

 

"That's right. Bumgarden. What’s the emergency then?"

 

"Well you see Miss, there's a lady in…"

 

"The hotel?"

 

"Yes, but she's in…"

 

"Trouble?"

 

"Yes, but she's in…"

 

"…sane?"

 

“No she's in…"

 

Hiram T. Baumgarten seemed to be in some confusion explaining exactly what the problem was.

 

"Come on Mr. Bumgarden, don't keep us in suspense. What is this lady in? Her birthday suit?"

 

Deirdre seemed to find this suggestion immensely amusing, and burst out laughing. Owain joined in.

 

"Oh Deirdre," he said, "you're a card you are, a real card."

 

Oh yes, he was getting in her knickers. No doubt about it. In. Her. Knickers!

 

Hiram T. breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"That's right Miss," he said, "in her birthday suit."

 

"What?"

 

"What?" echoed Owain.

 

"How?"

 

"How?" Deirdre looked at Owain. He was getting to be a bit of a pain.

 

"She seems to be sleepwalking."

 

A sleepwalking naked woman! Deirdre looked at Owain.

 

"Come on Mr. Special Policeman," she said, "that can't be harder to deal with than seeing an old lady across the road."

 

Owain gulped. A sleepwalking naked woman! Being a special constable did have its compensation sometimes!

 

Back on the stairs the unfortunate Audrey, still starkers and still with her hands held out in front of her was slowly making her way back down the stairs. Her mind was in a turmoil. She wanted to get back to her room but she couldn't for the life of her remember where her room was. She’d stayed in so many hotels, night after night, that she never memorised the room number, just used the number on the key to lead her back. And now she didn't have the key!

 

She reached the third floor and turned to look along the corridor. That looked familiar. She was almost certain that was it. Yes, that was it. There was a fire extinguisher next to the stairs that she remembered. Her room was the last on the left.

 

She froze suddenly. The clatter of feet behind her on the stairs announced that Dumbo was returning with what sounded like the fifth cavalry as reinforcements. She set off at increased pace along the corridor.

 

Owain was first on the scene. He surveyed the retreating bare bottom with delight. Deirdre and Hiram T. came puffing up behind.

 

"Owain is a policeman. He'll take charge," explained Deirdre.

 

Owain looked at her. 'In her knickers! Not a doubt of it,’ he thought to himself. And in his mind Deirdre's knickers were already down to mid thigh.

 

"Right," said Owain, "first thing we have to do is have a good look… at the problem I mean."

 

But Audrey had no doubt what he meant. His eyes were all over her, lingering particularly on the protrusion of her neatly erect nipples and her little private garden at the top of her legs.

 

"I think," he said, when he’d taken it all in, "we'd better wake her up."

 

"You can't do that," said Hiram T. "It’s a well known fact that if you wake a sleepwalker they drop down dead on the spot."

 

"Oh yes," said Owain, "of course. Everyone’s knowing that. Just testing. Perhaps we stay with her till we get back to her room. Which is her room Deirdre?"

 

"How should I know?" said Deirdre, "I don't know every guest in the hotel do I?"

 

Audrey quickened her pace. She was only twenty yards from her room. She’d soon be back, and this awful nightmare would be over!

 

Lying in her bed, Norma dozed fitfully. She shouldn't have been reading ‘The Vampire Lovers’ before going to sleep. She was dreaming that The Naked Vampire Queen was in her room, was coming to get her, just as she had got Ethelberta Gawdelpus in the book. Poor Ethelberta. Her fate had been orgasmically final. Norma was both fascinated and terrified by the supernatural. To have her creamy white breasts serve as the fodder of a vampire was to her both terrifying and extremely exciting. The excitement was keeping her awake as her hand strayed unconsciously between her legs at the thought of it.

 

A clicking noise suddenly woke her. Had she imagined it? Had it come from inside the room? She looked round fearfully.

 

Outside Audrey was trying the handle of the door. She realised she had been a fool. She hadn't got her key. How was she going to get back in! Help however was at hand.

 

"I have the pass key," whispered Deirdre, and gently opened the door to allow Audrey in.

 

Norma froze. Her door quietly opened and the Vampire Queen came in. Arms out in front of her as in the book. Stark naked as in the book. She was coming to get her! She was out of bed screaming before she knew what was happening.

 

There's a funny thing about screaming. Girls find it infectious. In five seconds Deirdre was screaming. In ten seconds Wilma was screaming. Surrounded by screaming girls, it was all Audrey could do to keep her composure.

 

She was after all totally, totally stark naked.

 

Realising this, poor Audrey felt a blush spread, in that delightful way it does in shy girls, from her face down across her bare bosoms, down across her shapely tummy, right down to her pubic mound.

 

The eyes of the onlookers followed the blush.

 

"Oh dear!" said Deirdre, first to regain her composure, "I hope that doesn't mean she's going to have a fit!"

 

"Owain?"

 

But Owain didn't answer. He was looking at Norma.

 

Audrey followed his gaze. It was Norma from her company. She was standing there in her little baby doll nightie, her sheer baby doll nightie, and in the bright light of the room it was totally, totally see-through! A fact of which she appeared to be totally unaware and which everyone was too embarrassed to mention.

 

In the room next door old Mrs. Winterbottom awoke with a sudden start. Surely that wasn’t screaming! ‘Goodness gracious,’ she thought, for such a profane expression as ‘Oh my God’ would never have passed her lips, ‘someone’s being murdered.’ She lay frozen into immobility in the bed until another bloody curdling shriek resounded through the wall, and then another. ‘Goodness gracious, we’ll all be murdered in our beds!’ She picked up her phone and dialled the number engraved into the heart of all elderly English maidens – 999. The emergency number that would fetch the police!

 

Audrey meanwhile had realised what had happened. She was on the wrong floor. All the corridors looked the same. With her arms still out in front of her she made her way back out into the corridor. The retinue followed and there in front of her she saw a large woman marching down the corridor towards her. Mrs. Winterbottom wasn’t the only one to have been woken by the screams. Kathryn the hotel manager was loose. Woken from her sleep by the screaming, and not very happy about it at all she was marching forth to find out what had happened. Deidre blanched at the sight. Everyone blanched when Kathryn appeared.

 

Kathryn was not tall, but what she lacked in height she made up in width. A short square woman with a short square temper, she was an eternal martyr to lower abdominal wind which she released with unabashed abandoned at regular intervals. These discomfitures produced in her a level of irritability which she took out on every soul who annoyed her. She looked Audrey up and down and sneered.

 

“What’s all this about?” she demanded.

 

“She’s sleepwalking,” explained Deidre. “We daren’t wake her or she’ll have a fit and die.”

 

“Sleepwalking! Your Fat Arse!” exclaimed Kathryn, an expression which was at the same time both one of her favourites and particularly apt, “Give her a shake, get her back to her room and let’s all get back to bed,” and she made to grab hold of the unfortunate Audrey now quaking under her piercing gaze.

 

Owain however interposed himself.

 

“Police Constable Jenkins!” he announced importantly, “I’m in charge here.”

 

Kathryn stopped.

 

“You’re in charge,” she sneered as if such a thing were unthinkable, “She’s play acting, can’t you see?”

 

Owain however could not see.

 

“She’s not play acting!” he said.

 

“Are you some sort of moron?” asked Kathryn

 

“Moron!” Owain Jenkins drew himself up to his full five foot three inches, “I’ll have you know I’m a special constable,” he spluttered.

 

“Special! Your Fat Arse!” said Katharine, “Fido!” she suddenly announced.

 

Owain stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

 

“Fido! There you are. I told you!”

 

“What do you mean Fido?” Owain was totally nonplussed.

 

“Everybody knows if you say ‘Fido’ to somebody who’s sleepwalking they go down on their hands and knees and start barking like a dog. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that. Moron.”

 

“Well,” Owain had never heard that, but he certainly wasn’t going to admit it. He didn’t want people thinking he was a moron. “Of course I know it,” he said, “everybody knows that. There must be a reason why she…”

 

He turned round to look at Audrey, but she had disappeared, “Where the blazes..” he started off when he was interrupted.

 

“Woof woof!”

 

Owain hadn’t been the only one to be taken aback by the news that she was by now supposed to be on her hands and knees barking like a dog.

 

“Woof woof,” said Audrey plaintively. She’d better be convincing or God knows what trouble she’d be in now.

 

Norma looked down at the barking Audrey and gasped. She appeared to be winking at her. Suddenly she realised. It was Audrey who travelled in Frilly Knickers and she clearly was just pretending.

 

How had Audrey got into this mess and what on earth should she do to get her out of it?

 

“I know her,” she suddenly announced.

 

Audrey looked. Didn’t she know that her large and very comely bosoms were on display, but trapped as she was in the ridiculous pretence of sleepwalking, there was nothing she could do to help her.

 

“She’s Audrey Smithers and she’s in Frilly Knickers,” pronounced Norma.

 

Everybody stared down at Audrey; the lack of knickers of any description was all too apparent.

 

“Well,” pronounced Kathryn looking at Deidre, “go and find out what room she’s in.”

 

“Yes, that’s right Deidre. Go and look up what room’s she’s in,” Owain tried to keep up the pretence of still being in charge.

 

Deirdre looked at Owain and smiled.

 

“Certainly Owain,” she pouted, and set off down the corridor.

 

‘In Her Knickers!’ Thought Owain, seeing Deirdre’s comely behind wiggling down the corridor. Her knickers were already, to his mind, round her knees.

 

Kathryn watched her go as well. She had another idea to get Audrey out of her so-called trance so they could all get back to bed. She turned on her heels and walked the other way down the corridor.

 

In the room next door Mrs. Winterbottom was being put through to the police station.

 

Sergeant Prosser eyed the plain brown paper envelope on his desk with pleasure, licking his lips as he did so. He had the magazine delivered to his office so that his wife would not find out. His wife would not understand and his wife was a hard woman. She did not understand his needs. True, he had to make do now with pictures rather than the real thing, but even pictures could give him some pleasure - could stir those inner juices that desperately needed stirring. He looked outside the door to make sure that there was nobody about who might come in and disturb him and opened up the package.

 

He turned first to the centre fold, where he always turned to first. His eyes went lasciviously over the big-breasted “bird” in the picture. Prosser always used the word “bird”. He admired the plump rounded breasts, the skin the golden brown colour of dark olive oil. He gazed on the pinker flesh of the legs and his eyes slowly followed them up to where they met. The parson’s nose – always the best part he felt of a roast turkey. And this one was pictured with all the trimmings. His mouth watered and he remembered those days before his wife had discovered that his cholesterol was high; before she had put him on the vegetarian diet. She didn’t understand a man’s needs. That was the trouble. His only consolation now was his magazine “Celia’s Special Party Collection,” and what a collection Celia had – the plump breasts and the golden brown legs - they fair made his mouth water.

 

His eye started to twitch. His eye always twitched when he got excited and he was getting excited now, but not as much as he would be when his other magazine arrived. He would be lucky to keep his helmet on then.

 

The phone rang. Sergeant Prosser lifted the receiver and heard the strangulated voice of a woman.

 

“Sergeant Prosser,” he answered, “and what can I do for you, Madame?”

 

The reply was not what he quite expected.

 

“Murder! There’s somebody being murdered.”

 

“Murder eh?” Sergeant Prosser let the words roll round his mouth. They didn’t often get murders in Aberdaberdw

 

“Oh, it’s murder is it?” he asked, “and where would that be being then?”

 

“In the hotel. Come quickly. We’ll all be murdered in our beds. They’re screaming in corridor. He’s going to murder us all!”

 

“Who’s going to be murdering us all?”

 

“Fatarse. I heard one of the girls shouting. ‘You’re Fatarse’ she said.”

 

Mrs. Winterbottom, who had led a sheltered life, had no knowledge of the significance of the phrase, but to Sergeant Prosser it had a very definite significance.

 

‘Fatarse McGinty!’ he said to himself. He remembered instantly the message that had come through from the yard. Fatarse McGinty had broken out and was on loose, and it had fallen to him Huw Llewellyn Prosser to be the one to capture him. Visions of a well deserved promotion filled his brain: Detective Superintendent Prosser – Prosser of the Yard – Huw Llewellyn Prosser Supercop! He picked up his helmet and abandoning his place at the police station desk he went out to fetch his bicycle. It would only take fifteen minutes to cycle down to the hotel!

 

Back in the hotel Deidre had returned with Audrey’s room number and the still barking Audrey was progressing as fast as she could on hands and knees to the end of the corridor. She had been a fool. Her room was on the floor below. Kathryn however had other ideas. She had been to the ice station and had returned with a bucket of ice. She’d soon show them all that this woman was playacting. Before anyone could stop her, the contents of the ice bucket, water, ice and all had been emptied over the naked back of the unsuspecting Audrey. The sudden effect of being doused with icy cold water was a shock that Audrey had not been expecting. The water went over her head, down her back and ran down over her bottom and down her legs. She shrieked. Well you would shriek too, wouldn’t you?

 

Deidre shrieked, after all shrieking is infectious, “You’ve killed her,” she shouted, “She’s having a fit!” and she launched herself at the unfortunate Kathryn bowling her over and flattening her to the ground. Meanwhile Owain had leapt on Audrey.

 

“She’s having a fit!” He cried you’ve definitely killed her. Some half remembered instruction from an ancient first aid course came back to him.

 

“We’ve got to cool her down!” he shouted.

 

Not surprisingly Audrey shrieked some more at this suggestion and when nobody moved, Kathryn made a helpful suggestion.

 

“Stick something cold up her arse! That’s what you do to stop people fitting.”

 

"Stick what up her what?” exclaimed Wilma, not unnaturally.

 

“We’ve got an ice cube,” said Deirdre helpfully, “shall I stick that up her bum?”

 

Owain looked at her expectantly. To his mind’s eye her knickers were round her ankles.

 

At the suggestion of an ice cube Audrey started struggling some more, but Owain fearing that the fit was getting out of hand restrained her even harder, and rolling her over on to her back, he held her down by the shoulders while pulling her legs up to her knees.

 

Poor Audrey kicked and struggled even more, but the more she did so, the more Owain felt it imperative to apply the cooling treatment.

 

“Get it up! Get it up!” he cried, pulling her legs up to her chest and presenting her posterior orifice for Deidre’s ministrations. Audrey, pinned down, legs pulled up, orifice exposed, only too aware of the spectacle she was presenting to the world, realised that the game was up. She was going to get the ice cubes whether she liked it or not.

 

She didn’t like it.

 

Sergeant Huw Prosser heard the shrieks as he approached the hotel. He knew where his duty lay. To follow the shrieks and arrest Fat Arse McGinty.

 

Audrey, flat on her back with her legs immobilised felt the freezing melting up her bum. The sensation was indescribable and she started shrieking again. Unfortunately this only redoubled the efforts to cool her down and before she knew it she felt ice cube number two being inserted. She gave up the struggle. Anything was better than more cubes of ice. She hugged her knees to her chest, closed her eyes tight and prayed for the dawn.

 

Deidre was looking out through the corridor window as Sergeant Prosser made his unsteady way on his bicycle along the High Street and wobbled to a stop in front of the hotel.

 

She looked from the rotund figure of Sergeant Prosser to the now passive Audrey, still on her back, stark naked with her knees drawn up to her chest, and everyone standing round staring at her trying to decide what to do next. It suddenly occurred to her that this was perhaps a problem that could be safely left to the good Sergeant to resolve.

 

She turned to the others, "It’s the rozzers,” she exclaimed, “time to scarper I think.”

 

The others looked down at the recumbent Audrey, then at each other. Then as if reaching an instantaneous simultaneous agreement they made off quickly down the corridor.

 

Audrey, eyes tight closed, hands over her ears, knees still pulled up and acutely aware of the ice cubes up her bum suddenly seemed to sense that, as Sergeant Huw Prosser rounded the corner into the corridor, all was silent. That was until she heard the unmistakeable sound of a policeman’s helmet falling off and landing with a distinct thud on the wooden floor beside her.

 

Kathryn settle down in front of the television in time for Coronation Street. She’d soon fettled them. She released a loud blast of contentment. She wouldn’t be disturbed again that night.

 

Owain had his trousers down and Deirdre had her six inch ruler out. She shook her head. Barely five inches, and that was being generous. Still it was late and there wasn’t much alternative. She hitched up her skirt and a big smile spread across Owain’s face as her knickers descended gracefully to the floor.

 

Up in Room 301, Hiram T. Baumgarten was not so lucky. Feet apart, naked and leaning against the wall his balls hung invitingly between his legs as Wilma took aim with her high heeled leather boot. In vain did he protest that he hadn’t even noticed the girl’s tits.

 

With shaking hands Sergeant Prosser opened his other magazine. His eye hadn’t stopped twitching since the sight that had greeted him in the hotel corridor. He was in urgent need of immediate relief.

 

Up in her room Norma lay in bed, her milk white bosoms bared to receive the teeth of the Vampire Queen. A vampire possessed of pretty impressive bosoms herself. A vampire called Audrey.