from " Manchester Chronicles" (Tuckerverse) by Greyscribbler

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esercito sconfitto
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from " Manchester Chronicles" (Tuckerverse) by Greyscribbler

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( Excerpt from " Having a Ball" )



“Room service,” she heard a female voice with a heavy Eastern European accent announce after
Erika opened the door.
“Great! Just bring it in here,” Erika directed.
The ball they were going to didn’t include food, so room service had seemed the easiest solution.
A moment later a silver serving trolley wheeled into view, followed immediately by the very cute
auburn-haired woman who was pushing it. Mary gazed at the dishes piled on the gleaming trolley,
her mouth watering at the delicious scents coming from the food. The maid looked more than
edible as well.
Pity her hair’s straight or she could be a decent stand-in for Nimue.
The redhead had pretty features that promised dimples when she smiled and bright blue eyes. She
looked to be about thirty and wore a name badge that identified her as ‘Malina’.
The whole world shifted. Just an inch, but it shifted. Mary blinked. Her posture had changed, she
wasn’t quite sitting on the lounge the way she was a moment ago. That wasn’t what made her
shriek. Her robe had vanished, leaving her stark naked. Mary stared at the maid. Desperately she
tried to cover herself up, grabbing for the cushions that lay at the end of the lounge.
Malina stared back. And kept staring, her blue eyes totally vacant. The maid didn’t move. At all.
Mary relaxed, dropping her hands, a scowl crossing her face as a giggle erupted from directly behind
her.
The brunette flung herself around on the lounge to see Erika desperately trying to smother her
laughter while holding Mary’s robe.
“You did, didn’t you?” the brunette half-grinned, half-accused. She knew that her girlfriend had
stopped time, it was the only explanation, but she couldn’t stop herself asking.
Erika nodded, quick sharp movements, her lips pressed together to hold in another laugh.
“And her?” Mary pointed back over her shoulder. She thought she knew the answer to that as well,
but she wanted to hear Erika say it.
“Type-7, of course,” Erika replied, swallowing hard and trying to look at least a little serious. Type-7
was a wonder drug developed by one of Erika’s companies. Originally intended as an anaesthetic, it
had the effect of turning people into little more than mannequins, stiff but posable and totally
unaware of their surroundings. “I thought we’d have some fun. I gave her enough for a couple of
hours.”
“We should have dinner first,” Mary declared. “Or it will get cold.” She could still smell the waiting
banquet, the scents tempting her over to examine the dishes.
“Oh, I agree, but…” Erika grinned mischievously, looking around their suite. It was lavishly furnished,
ultra-modern glass and chrome furniture, black highlights around the room to go with the
predominantly white decor. Mary watched as Erika’s gaze fell on the large glass-topped dining table
and then turned back to the frozen maid.
“Give me a hand with her,” Erika prompted.
Mary was more than happy to comply. The maid’s conservative light blue short-sleeved uniform
dress, a white apron secured around her waist, really didn’t do much for her figure at all. The
brunette thought it was little more than a shapeless sack. Or maybe she was getting too used to
designer tailoring. One of the benefits of having a billionaire as a girlfriend. Whatever it was, Mary
was sure Malina would look better out of the dress, though the nude pantyhose and white tennis
shoes on the maid’s legs and feet didn’t promise much.
Mary’s eye’s brows shot up in surprise as Malina’s pantyhose were revealed to be stockings, the lacy
white push-up bra, thong and garter belt not at all what she’d expected. Malina’s trim figure suited
the underwear much better than it had the dress.
“Wow, that’s what I call room service,” Erica exclaimed. The tall blonde dragged the maid over to
the table, hefting her up on it without much apparent effort.
Malina was arranged face-up on the table, her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, her legs pressed
together. Her upper arms were tight against her torso, but her forearms were bent back at the
elbow, her palms flat and facing upwards, parallel with the table, fingers spread wide.
Mary thought she got the idea. Fetching two plates from the trolley, she placed one on each of the
maid’s hands. Though not before retrieving her robe.
Malina seemed to have no objection to providing the extra service.
“Won’t she get in trouble if she doesn’t come back?” Mary asked her girlfriend as they tucked into
their starters.
“Good point,” Erika allowed. A quick phone call later and it was all sorted, Erika declaring to
whoever was on the other end of the phone that they needed Malina to prepare for their evening
outing.
“He was falling over himself to say yes,” Erika laughed as she sat back down. “Looks like my money
is worth something. Beyond just being money.”
Moving on to their main course, roast lamb seasoned with rosemary and served with salad
vegetables, the two piled their salads on Malina’s conveniently flat stomach, Erika teasingly nibbling
a lettuce leaf that lay across the woman’s navel as she looked up at Mary.
I can beat that, Mary thought, and smiled as she kissed Erika on the nose.
There was ice cream for desert, Mary sitting the stiff maid up to slip off her lacy bra, then lying the
woman back down before dumping her chocolate scoop right on top of one of the surprisingly large
pink nipples that capped Malina’s tits.
Grinning, Erika followed suit, the two lovers dispensing with any utensils as they dived into the
delicious sweets that smothered Malina’s B-cup chest.
We might need another shower, Mary mused.
“Letting her go now?” Mary asked sometime later as she poked her head out of the suite’s
bathroom, wiping off her face.
Erika looked thoughtful. “No, I’ve got another idea. We’ve still got some time.”
Mary thought she knew what her girlfriend was about. “I’ll clear off the table if you want to get her
into the bedroom,” she volunteered.
Erika shook her head. “Nah. I’ve got a better idea. Put her dress on. We’re going hunting.”
Mary wasn’t sure what her lover was about. Or why she seemed so hyperactive. Erika was always
up for a good time, but she seemed particularly driven this evening.
“Err,” Mary hesitated, “I’m not sure it’ll fit. She’s a bit shorter than me.” The brunette thought the
maid was at least two inches shorter than her five foot eight.
“It’ll be fine,” Erika insisted, grabbing Mary by the hand and dragging her over to where the
shapeless blue garment lay. Mary thought about heading for some underwear, but she had a
suspicion that that would just be a waste of time.
“I told you she’s smaller than me,” Mary complained, having finally managed to get into the dress.
Not only was Malina shorter, meaning the dress rode higher up Mary’s thigh than it had on the maid,
but the brunette thought she had a good two inches around the chest on Malina as well, meaning
the dress was constrictingly tight on her. And her bra-less state would be obvious to anyone who
took the time to look. “Those two inches make a difference.”
“Oh, I know darling,” Erika purred, her gaze dropping to Mary’s chest. “But don’t worry. Here’s what
we’re going to do.”
At first Mary had thought Erika’s plan was insane, but, she told herself, she should be used to that by
now. In the end she was surprised by how gullible people were. She’d knock on a door, pretending
to be a staff member of the hotel, checking on some complaint, her uniform reassuring anyone who
bothered to check through the peephole before opening the door. Then when the hotel guest
opened the door she’d spray them with the Type-7 dispenser her girlfriend had given her. The plan
was that if Mary, using her disguise as a maid, couldn’t get the other people in the room, Erika would
stop time and save things. Sort of like Morgana and Nimue, the brunette thought, but in reverse.
Once everyone in a suite was frozen the pair would amuse themselves posing the occupants. They
wouldn’t bother much with the men, planning on dumping them in a wardrobe or behind some
furniture. It might require Erika to use her gene a fair bit, but she'd become a lot more resilient since
the days where using it a mere three times in a single week would exhaust her.
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