blog alive.
And it is clear she likes the style 'cos she has it in blue too.
Ok, enough filler lets get the the main feature.
Thank you Mistress LeatherBeth XX
The Spy Who Came Into the Pavilion
by Mistress LeatherBeth
Chapter 5
Let’s make one thing clear. Olga was not a goon. She had been provided with standard FSB training in, amongst other things, incapacitation, which was how she came to be able to render Yevgeny unconscious for a predictable period of time. But she had never, to the best of her knowledge, killed anyone (unless multiple orgasms could be fatal), and she wasn’t going to begin here, with Kropotkin.
Yevgeny was a low level operator, and she could imagine him exaggerating his abilities and contacts to Cooper Amalgamated when he was interviewed for the job of liaising with their office in Tashkent. But he could be safely released. After all, he wasn’t going to put himself in danger by bragging about his knowledge of the deal and, as he wasn’t actually on the payroll of the Tashkent office of Cooper Amalgamated, which was staffed by a collection of cyber- and white collar criminals (who would have to look after themselves), he could have faded well into the undergrowth by the time the scam came to light.
Olga had a couple of ideas of how to dispose of Sleeping Beauty behind her and, as Yevgeny began to twitch, she started the Audi and pulled away from the Fullerton Arms car park.
A few minutes later, and with the Audi’s back seat now empty, she was observing The Grange from her position a hundred metres away. The time had come to put the next part of the plan into operation. A face to face meeting. Cooper and Haskins would be highly nervous by now, and the time was at hand to turn the screw. She was about to step from the car and approach the house when the front door opened, and out stepped George Cooper, tout homme, carrying a small holdall, and followed by Haskins, en belle femme, wearing a particularly adorable pair of shoes (not Olga’s style, but she could see the attraction). They made their way to the end of Strawberry Lane and turned right. Olga was surprised. They were showing no sign of worry; rather they seemed to be totally relaxed and looking forward to a day of pleasure or recreation. She followed them.
George and Kerry (back in her vinyl with the lilac slingback peep toe platforms, and with make up altogether more sophisticated and less designed for the pull than last night’s), walked to the end of Strawberry Lane and turned towards the Rec. “I’ve driven past the Rec a few times, and I’ve always thought it one of the smartest grounds I’ve seen,” said Kerry.
“Yes,” replied George, “Budgie Anderson keeps the place in excellent condition.”
The Recreation Ground, known locally as ‘the Rec’, was situated behind the Village Hall, about a couple of hundred metres past the Strawberry Lane turning, so that it partly bounded the paddock of The Grange, the same paddock in which Baroness Tanya’s highly trained pony girls had performed the previous evening.
For many years, the cricket team had operated out of ramshackle dressing rooms over in the far corner, and, in the absence of a scoreboard, the score had been displayed by means of numbered metal plates on an A-frame.
Then, some forty years ago, a concerted fundraising effort plus a lot of volunteer work had resulted in a fully functioning pavilion being built as an extension at the rear of the Village Hall. New dressing rooms and showers, its own kitchen and tea room, a small bar and the best score box in the League.
And just five years ago, when they moved into The Grange, the Coopers (ie George, on Izzy’s instructions) had paid for a full refurbishment. For Magdalena, like so many Dominant Ladies, loved cricket, and it had been her great-great-great-grandfather, a local squire, who had donated the Village Hall and the Recreation Ground to the village in the first place, back in Edwardian times. As at the front of the Village Hall to which it was attached, the Pavilion had half a dozen steps down, from the veranda to the outfield, and had a dozen or so assorted seats and a couple of tables either side of the door, convenient for popping inside for a cold one.
The Village Hall was closed, and, like everyone else heading to the cricket, George and Kerry had to go around the side of the building and across the car park. When they emerged, the first thing Kerry saw was Kat, organising an efficient net session.
“Come on, Stuart! Feet! Don’t get trapped in the crease. Get that front foot well down the pitch. Right, Will, can you take over the bowling? You’re our secret weapon, so we really need you to warm up before Derrington arrive and spot you. JoJo, get the gloves and pads on. If you’re taking over as ‘keeper you need
to be comfortable. Get a couple of the youngsters to give you catching practice. Alice! Ankle OK? Good.”
Out in the middle, Budgie was only half visible in the cloud of dust rising from his energetic sweeping of the pitch. He then went and dragged the roller out of the groundsman’s hut, in preparation for rolling the pitch after the toss had been decided. When he’d unlocked the hut earlier, he’d thought he’d heard a car engine on the other side of the hedge. This had puzzled him, because Strawberry Lane was barely wide enough for a bicycle at that point. Ah well, if someone has taken a wrong turning, they’d just have to reverse all the way out.
George excused himself and went off to chat with people who’d already arrived. Kerry looked around for somewhere to sit and relax, and spotted a lone figure seated at a table on the left of the Pavilion door.
Yevgeny slowly opened his eyes, blinked, and shut them tight. Between the blinding sun in his eyes and the banging ache in his head, he was the one who needed dark glasses. Before he could work out where he was, a wave of nausea swept over him, and he passed out again.
“Hello,” said Kerry, “do you mind if I sit here?” Andy smiled a welcome. “Forgive me,” added Kerry, “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I think that you look absolutely stunning.” He was admiring Andy’s outfit, the same outfit he’d worn a couple of Sundays earlier, the translucent latex top, showing to great effect the work that Andy and the brush had put into his cleavage, the red latex leggings and the 318 boots.
Andy, still a little unused to being told what a gorgeous girl he was, blushed, and said, “I love your shoes.”
“Thanks. I’m Kerry.” He took a seat next to Andy.
“I’m Andy. And that’s my boyfriend Will, over in the nets, bowling,” he said, just to avoid any misunderstanding.
“He’s very lucky. You live locally?”
“Yes. For the summer we’re staying with my aunt. You? I haven’t seen you around the village before.”
“I work for Mr Cooper. I’m his PA. I’m based in Manchester, but I’ve been down here quite a few times.”
Not quite thinking, Andy said, “You work for Belinda and Lady Magdelena?” then put his hand to his mouth as if to stop himself saying anything else.
“Belinda, Magdelena, Izzy and George. You obviously know the set up. They’re two odd couples, but it seems to work for them. And it’s worked for me. I got talking to them at a fetish fair a couple of years ago. I was actually modelling, would you believe, anything to pay the bills. Twenty minutes later I’d been offered a job interview, and here I am. I’m occasionally needed to be Gary, but most of the time I’m well paid for being Kerry. You?”
“Me? O my aunt, who lives here in the village, spotted that I’d make a pretty girl. She didn’t force me, just gave me the opportunities, which I took. Then Will, who’d always been my best friend, told me he loved me as a girl, and our families gave their blessing and here we are. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Work keeps me too busy, I’m afraid. I thought I might have pulled last night, but nothing came of it. Can I get you a drink?”
“That would be nice,” said Andy. “Cider, please.”
In accordance with League rules, Kat met up with Chris Mills, the Derrington captain, and the two umpires, George Cooper and his opposite number, Matt Crawford, in front of the Pavilion. George, intent on being fair but firm, immediately took control when he produced a 50p coin, nodded at Chris, and tossed. While it was in mid air Chris called “Heads,” and it was heads which landed at George’s feet.
“We’ll bowl,” said the Derrington skipper and, with just a perfunctory nod to Kat and George, he returned to the dressing room. George rolled his eyes at Kat, who shrugged before waving over at the nets, where Darren Swift, whose father farmed about 800 acres just outside the village, had been getting in some last minute batting practise against Chloe’s off cutters. Darren had been hauling grain until 10pm throughout the week to get the time off to play on Saturday afternoon.
As he reached the top of the Pavilion steps, Budgie fell into step with his skipper. “Kat, ‘ave getten an idea as meight ‘elp us win t’match. See, thur’s summat I an’t towd thi…,” at which point the pair passed out of earshot.
Will jogged over. “We’re batting first, so I need to get padded up. Who was that girl you were talking to?”
“That girl,” replied Andy, “was Gary, AKA Kerry. Works for Mr Cooper.”
Will raised an eyebrow, “Looked nice,” he said.
Andy tried to look severe. “Mmm. Jumps out of my bed to go to see two other women this morning, then starts complimenting a third before the game has even begun.”
“Actually, it was a fivesome this morning,” said Will, deadpan. “Chloe and Alice turned up as well.” Andy just dissolved into another fit of giggles. “Oh, yes,” added Will, “I told Kat that you’d sign this registration form, just in case we need a 12th Man. OK?”
“In these heels? Really? OK, but you’d better be going, before Kat starts shouting for you.”
Kisses exchanged, Will went inside the Pavilion, to the dressing room, just in time to miss Kerry’s return from the bar.
To Be Continued...............
