Around The World In 80 Babes: Chapter 45 – Coming Out Party, Part 2

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profusely prudish! Don’t read this! it’s not meant for
you! Go away and ignore this wonderful piece of
fiction, that those who ARE old enough, enjoy stories
about sex, and understand that it IS fiction will love
to pieces.

Around the World in 80 Babes

2005 CSSA Award Winner for Best M/F Series

by: TRL

Chapter 45: Coming Out Party, Part 2

September 23rd, 2005
The Streets of Sydney,
Sydney, Australia

“I’m about a block from the receiver,”
Dan Coach’s voice called back in over Agnes Stone’s cell phone. “But I gotta tell you, Stone, I doubt this is the place.”

“Why’s that?” Stone asked, once again cursing her luck. She was towards the outskirts of Sydney right now, having ended up about halfway across the city from where Coach was tracking the mysterious signal that she was certain was connected to Richard Stall.

“I’m in the heart of the restaurant sector here. Unless Stall’s got a thing for eating while broadcasting illegal signals, we’re sunk.”

“You think it’s another decoy site?”

“Almost certainly. In fact, I’m pulling into a Greek restaurant right now that’s got an abnormally large sign out front that would disguise a receiving tower pretty well.”

“Check it out just in case,” Stone said, sighing. She’d hoped they were going to get lucky this time – Coach had been tailing the security teams guarding Tony Blair, who just happened to be in town tonight. Coach had been concerned the British Prime Minister might have been a target for terrorists, but then the signal had gone off, and it had nothing to do with Blair. It was, though, all of six blocks from where Coach had been, and Stone had ordered him to check it out. She’d been too far away at that point.

“Dan?” She asked, a thought hitting her. “Is the signal still going?”

“Yes,” came his response.

“Any idea where about the signal is being broadcast from?”

“Uh, sure. Give me a minute.” There was silence on the line for a long moment, and Stone once again cursed the loss of Abigal Slider, the local hacker they’d had helping them the last few weeks. Slider had decided to go out tonight, and since they hadn’t seen any sign of Stall or the signals for over two weeks, Stone had been hard pressed to tell her not to go. Still, she’d left the computer program needed to triangulate the broadcasts up and running, and Coach was almost as good as she was at using it.

“Got it. You’re actually not that far – maybe half an hour, little more with traffic,” Coach came back suddenly.

“Give me the address,” Stone said. Half an hour was a long time, but it was probably their best chance at this point. All she had to do was find Richard Stall.

* * *

September 23rd, 2005

The Cavanaugh Estate,

Outside Sydney, Australia

As Marissa Call watched in amazement, Australian Actress Rebecca Cartwright dropped the straps to her white dress and allowed it to slide off her body and to the floor, exposing her perky little breasts. Now clad in only the smallest of white thongs, Rebecca took Marissa’s head in her hands and placed a passionate kiss on the American’s lips, pushing her back against the wall as she did so.

Marissa wasn’t nearly so provocatively dressed – she was still clad in the red, black, and white uniform of the catering service providing the food for the massive Christine Cavanaugh Coming Out party, the so-called social event of the year in Sydney. Since Christine’s father was Martin Cavanaugh, one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in Australia, the party was more than just a Sweet Sixteen party. It WAS the social event of the year for everyone in Entertainment down under.

And that meant it was prime ground for Richard Stall’s quest to tape hot female celebs having sex. And THAT meant that Marissa Call had snuck in as a member of the catering staff, and was now about to eat out a chemically-aroused Rebecca Cartwright in the laundry room of the Cavanaugh estate.

Rebecca was in charge – there was no doubt about that. She pressed Marissa down to her knees upon breaking the kiss, and it was clear what she wanted. Marissa reached up and pulled aside the tiny white thong, revealing Rebecca’s perfectly shaved pussy. Hungrily, Marissa kissed the swollen bulb of Rebecca’s clit once before inserting her tongue deep into pussy in front of her.

“Oh, yes,” Rebecca hissed. They were trying to be quiet – there were hundred of people outside, and Rebecca’s bisexuality wasn’t exactly public knowledge. And Marissa was supposed to be working for the caterer right now, too. But this was her real job right now – eating celebrity pussy – and all the special hidden cameras she’d brought with her were focused in on them right now.

* * *

“So it took Marissa all of forty-five minutes to score some pussy, Lambert. How are you doing?”

Tom Lambert snorted and passed over the beer he’d just poured. Michael Burke was speaking to him through his ear piece, and the wheelchair-bound limo driver was making sure Lambert knew how the other half lived now that he was “out in the field” so to speak. Usually, it was Lambert watching the sexcapades on video monitors from one of his bases he nicknamed “The Pitt.” This time, though, Stall wasn’t taking any chances, and Lambert was out in the field, on the off-hand chance he might score with some woman and get it on tape. Lambert honestly couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten laid – it’d been well over two years now. And her seriously doubted he’d get much here behind one of the bars serving the Cavanaugh party. His stupid red, white, and black uniform didn’t look nearly so good on him as it did on Marissa.

“Well, this party blows,” a young woman said, sitting down at the bar right in front of Lambert. “Give me a beer.”

“Are you old enough to have beer?” Lambert asked, looking the dark-haired girl up and down once. She wore a barely-there black dress that showed off both her modest, b-cup breasts and her legs from the calf down. Just on the inside of her left leg, Lambert could make out the presence of a tattoo, though he couldn’t tell what it was just yet.

“Bloody hell, what are you, American?” the girl asked.

“Yes, actually,” Lambert replied.

“Blimey. I’m eighteen. Just give me a beer already, you yank.”

“Sure, sure,” Lambert said, just wanting her to go away. He poured another beer – which he’d been told was an impressive draft, but Lambert knew even less about Australian beer than he did the drinking age in Australia. He’d worked very briefly as a bartender back in college, and with good reason – he wasn’t a particularly good one.

“Thanks, mate,” the girl said, taking the beer. “Cute outfit, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lambert said, rolling his eyes as the girl wandered off into the crowd.

* * *

“Have you met the guest of honor yet, Richard?”

Stall looked up from his scotch – the same one he’d been nursing for a while now – and tried to will himself back into the conversation. He’d finally caught up with Martin Cavanaugh, and while they both agreed they needed to do more business together, Cavanaugh was avoiding business talk like the plague, clearly far more interested in the various gossip that permeated Sydney’s upper class. This, of course, was all Greek to Stall, who knew next-to-nothing about the area, and even less of the gossip.

“You mean your daughter?” Stall asked, confused by Cavanaugh’s statement.

“No, no!” Cavanaugh laughed, waving his hand. “Christine will be by later. I meant our singing guest of honor, Delta Goodrem. She’s happily agreed to sing Happy Birthday to my dear Christine later on.”

Stall suddenly switched gears entirely. THIS was something he was interested in. “I don’t believe I have,” he said. “I don’t suppose you could introduce me?”

“I’m sure I could. Carruthers?” he called out to one of his butlers. “Do find Miss Goodrem and see that she comes over here. I’ve got some people to introduce to her.”

“At once, sir,” the butler said, disappearing into the crowd. Stall looked over at his “date” for the evening, Chelsea Smythe, who merely shook her head. She knew what he was thinking.

“Richard?!” A voice said, suddenly. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Stall turned around to see Dannii Minogue coming at him. Clad in a silver dress that barely hid her generous curves, the singer made a b-line to him, a couple of other women in tow.

“You left before I could tell you,” Stall reminded her.

“Yes, I suppose I did,” Dannii said. The last time the two had seen each other was late the night before, when they’d had a quickie fuck in the elevator in their mutual hotel. Now, judging from her look, Dannii was more than a bit interested in continuing along the same train of thought right now. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go somewhere and we can pick up where we left off?”

“Actually,” Stall said reluctantly, “I’m waiting to be introduced to Delta Goodrem. Mr. Cavanaugh was graciously offered to introduce me to her.”

“Oh, Delta?” Dannii said, surprised. “Richard, my dear, she’s a bore. You’ll never enjoy her company as much as you enjoyed mine last night.”

“Only one way to find out, I suppose.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Dannii said. She turned to one of her companions, a dark haired girl who’d clearly been drinking a bit already. “Natalie, this is Richard Stall, who I was telling you about earlier. Tell him I’m far more interesting than Delta Goodrem.”

“This is the guy you-” Natalie said, then stopped short, realizing where she was. “Oh, no, honey. Dannii’s no more interesting than Delta is. I, however, am far more interesting than either one of them. Natalie Imbruglia, at your service, Mr. Stall,” she said, pulling him close in a greeting hug. “And I do mean at your service,” she whispered in his ear, quiet enough that no one else would hear.

“Miss Imbruglia,” Stall said as she reluctantly came off of him. “I’m a fan of your music.”

“Then come chat with us,” Dannii said. “We promise to get you back in time to meet Delta.”

Stall thought about it for a second, but then decided to go with them. It was clear that either one would happily have another quickie with him – he hadn’t realized he’d impressed Dannii so much the night before – and there was no telling if Delta would be as easily seduced. Besides, if there was a chance he could get BOTH Dannii and Natalie…

“Chelsea, dear,” Stall said, handing his scotch to Smythe. “Do let me know when Miss Goodrem gets here.”

“Of course,” Smythe muttered as the two women dragged Stall off towards the main house. “Please excuse Mr. Stall,” she said to Cavanaugh. “He’s easily distracted.”

“You aren’t concerned?” Cavanaugh asked.

“About what? Mr. Stall and I are not involved with each other. We’re just here as friends.”

“I see,” Cavanaugh said, clearly surprised.

Smythe thought about telling Cavanaugh the truth – that she was Stall’s bodyguard – but before she could, she saw something in the crowd. It was nothing more than a twist of fabric – a rich purple color. But it wasn’t the color of the dress that bothered her – it was the half a face she thought she saw above the dress. It was familiar, and not in a “hey, I saw that girl on TV last night while I was watching strange Australian soap operas” way.

Whoever was in the purple dress, Smythe had seen her before. And that gave her chills.

* * *

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but our guest list is strictly confidential.”

Agnes Stone wanted to rip the head of the security guard clear off his shoulders. What WAS it about Australian security guards. They never wanted to let you into a place.

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear here,” she said, pulling out her Scotland Yard badge again. “My name is Agnes Stone, and I’m here on official business with Scotland Yard. I desperately need to know if the man I’ve been hunting for is in this party or not.”

“Ma’am, unless you have a warrant, I cannot let you see my guest list.”

“And by the time I get a warrant, the party will be over,” Stone muttered. “You can’t give me any help at all here?”

“No, ma’am.”

Stone sighed. “What about letting me into the party? Can I just look around for a few minutes?”

“Ma’am, we have more than a thousand guests and wait staff here tonight. You can’t honestly think you’ll be able to find your guy just by poking your head in.”

“Then just tell me if the name Richard Stall appears on your list!” She insisted.

“Sorry, ma’am, we can’t do that.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Stone pleaded. “Just let me look about inside.”

The security guard sighed. “Fifteen minutes, but you stay close to my men, and when your time is up, you’re out. My job is on the line here, and you have no legal standing in any of this.”

“Scotland Yard will remember your assistance in this matter,” Stone said, already plotting ways to give her escorts the slip.

* * *

Every now and then, Richard Stall wondered if he’d lost the ability to seduce women without using Lambert’s chemical aphrodisiacs. Then days like this happened, and he realized he could easily score women without the chemical. Of course, in a case like this, it was perhaps a little too easy – both Dannii and Natalie were already telling him they were willing to fuck his brains out before he’d let them take him upstairs to one of the Cavanaugh guest rooms. Still, it was nice to know he hadn’t had to use any chemicals to get two very attractive women into bed with him.

Not that he was doing much more than laying back. Natalie, her impressive tits hanging out the front of her dress, was riding his cock like an expert bull rider, while Dannii licked and sucked on his balls and Natalie’s snatch as much as possible. Stall could honestly think of about fifteen other things he’d rather have Dannii doing – not the least of which would be getting considerably more naked; she was still clad in her barely-there dress.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Natalie moaned, making up for Dannii’s less-than-preferred activities. Natalie was proving to be quite the little hellcat, thrusting herself up and down on Stall’s cock like a piston in a race car. Stall already knew he wasn’t going to last long at this rate, but he didn’t care – he had cameras on both what he was doing to Natalie, and on what Dannii was doing to the two of them. It might not have made a bit of difference to Stall, but it would look great on video.

Suddenly, Natalie stopped dead, her body shaking with pleasure. As Stall watched, amazed, the tiny little brunette climaxed atop him.

“Fuck, Dannii, you were right. He IS good.”

“Told you,” Dannii said, sliding her arms up Natalie’s back and hugging her friend. “Now, why don’t you show me how good you are?”

“No problem,” Natalie giggled, pulling Dannii’s face to hers. As Stall watched, the two started making out, his cock still buried deep inside Natalie’s snatch.

“Ah, girls?” he asked after more than a minute had passed, and neither girl had so much as glanced in his direction. He thrust his cock up a little, hoping to gain their attention, but it was too late. Dannii pulled Natalie down off of Stall, and rolled over on top of her. The two singers only had eyes for each other, and judging from the way their hands were penetrating each others dresses, Stall had best keep the cameras going.

* * *

It had taken Agnes Stone all of three minutes to ditch her security escort – and after twenty minutes of desperate looking, she had to admit that they’d been right – she stood absolutely no chance of finding Stall in this mess. There were more than a thousand people here, and while the women all wore various mutli-colored dresses that made them stand out as best they could, the men all wore black. This made finding Stall any way other than bumping right into him next to impossible.

“Excuse me,” she muttered as she passed a woman in bright red holding a martini and a mostly-drunken scotch – there was a combo if she’d ever seen one – and pushed deeper into the crowd. If Stall was here, she’d better find him quick.

“Pardon me,” another woman said – this one clad in deep purple – as she passed behind Stone, heading in the opposite direction. Stall must have been having a field day here – there were more beautiful women here than Stone had seen in a long time.

Suddenly, she had an idea where she might find him.

* * *

“Excuse me,” a woman clad in a surprisingly simple grey business suit said as she cut past Chelsea Smythe. Smythe gave her half a second of attention before forgetting about her. She had more important things to do than figure out why anyone would wear such a drab outfit to an event like this.

Stall was missing – though no doubt getting laid by Dannii Minogue and Natalie Imbruglia. Marissa Call was also unaccounted for, though at last report, she was getting fucked by Rebecca Cartwright somewhere, too. Smythe was amazed at how simple it seemed to be to score hot celebrity women for casual sex. Maybe it came with the fame – you lost track of how hard men should have to work to get into your pants. Though that didn’t account for Marissa’s rampaging success. Were there really that many closeted lesbians in the world?

She shook her head and kept looking through the crowd. She still hadn’t seen the woman in purple again, but the more she thought about it, the more she though that was a bad thing. It was amazing how easy it was to lose someone in this crowd.

Maybe she’d better just find Stall and make sure he was alright before things got worse. Now, where would Stall go with two hot, sexually charged celebrities?

* * *

Cutting behind the woman in the suit, and ignoring the woman in red scanning the crowd, Raven tried to look as inconspicuous as she could in the daring purple dress she wore. Why were these things always so revealing? It was next to impossible to hide weapons on her body in an outfit like this. She carried only a small dagger in a holster sewn into her thong panties – there’d be no sitting down for her tonight, or someone would think she was a man in drag at best. She’d designed the killer panties a few years ago to kill a man who had a penchant for prostitutes and screwing over his business partners. He hadn’t lived past getting Raven out of her hooker disguise.

Why the fuck couldn’t Stall be a hooker guy? They could’ve killed him off ages ago if he’d been like that. Instead, here she was, months after getting this assignment, still trying to get close to him.

Well, no time for griping. If she knew Stall, he’d either be chatting up the most famous woman in the joint, or already in bed with her. Well, that narrowed down the places to look for her.

Grimacing at the thought of the rather obscene shot she’d give anyone who happened to look when she withdrew her dagger, Raven moved off towards the main house, hoping to catch Stall in as alone as possible.

* * *

“‘Nother beer, barkeep.” Lambert looked up to see the young girl in the black dress he’d seen earlier – the one with the tattoo between her legs.

“You got it,” he said, pouring another one. Lambert was getting sick of this. No one remotely famous had approached him at all yet – they were only sending over their flunkies, and that sucked royally.

“So, barkeep, this the most boring party you ever serve or what?” the girl asked.

“Let’s put it this way,” Lambert muttered, handing her the drink. “I’ve had more fun in empty chat rooms.”

“Ooh, computer geek, eh?” the girl said, taking a long draw on her beer. “I like that.”

“About as geeky as they get, then,” Lambert said with a sigh.

“Wanna know a secret?” the girl said, leaning in.

“Sure,” Lambert said.

“I like geeky guys.”

Lambert blinked. Was this girl actually hitting on him.

“Name’s Abigail,” the girl said, introducing herself.

“Tom,” Lambert replied.

“Tom, when do you get a break?”

“I can have fifteen minutes any time I want right now,” he said.

“Only fifteen minutes?” she said, frowning. “Well, if you want to take it, I bet I can keep your geeky self entertained for that fifteen minutes.”

Lambert thought about it for a moment. Stall wouldn’t be happy to hear about him spending time with the non-famous, but he hadn’t gotten close to anyone famous yet. And besides, he need a break from the bar.

“Mike!” He called out to the other guy manning this particular bar. “I’m going to take my break.”

“Sure thing, man,” Mike replied. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“It’s only fifteen minutes – what the hell can happen in fifteen minutes?”

* * *

Fifteen minutes. Marissa Call hadn’t lifted her tongue from Rebecca Cartwright’s pussy for fifteen minutes now. They’d been going at it for the better part of an hour, but every time Marissa tried to shift them into something resembling an action that would give her pleasure, Rebecca kept forcing her back between her legs.

Not that Marissa was really complaining – Rebecca had a surprisingly sweet taste to her, and it beat serving drinks to the rest of the crowd. But Marissa hadn’t been denied this much pleasure since she’d first become a prostitute. And none of the celebrities she’d ever fucked hadn’t at least expressed an interest in returning the favor.

Suddenly, Rebecca’s blonde hair started thrashing back and forth, and her legs wrapped around Marissa’s head, forcing her even deeper into the actress’ crotch. Marissa kept lapping away as Rebecca came, and came hard all over Marissa’s face. Almost a full minute passed before Rebecca sighed and released Marissa from between her legs – causing the American to fall back to the floor.

Rebecca hopped down from where she’d been sitting atop the washing machine and pulled her dress back down. “That was fantastic, babe,” she said, reaching into her purse and pulling out fifty dollars Australian. She placed it on the washing machine and started to walk out of the room. “Oh, and when you get the chance, I’d like another sex on the beach. Thanks babe, you’re totally hot.

Marissa could only stare as Rebecca walked off. She sat there for a long moment before sighing, and heading back up to work. There were still other celebs out there – she could easily get lucky again before the night was out.

* * *

Chelsea Smythe had made it upstairs and was sweeping through the spare bedrooms, desperately looking for Stall. She’d run across more than her fair share of couples having sex – including Christine Cavanaugh, the birthday girl herself, getting it on with two very well hung boys her own age – but no sign of Stall yet. She couldn’t help but feel like the clock was running. They needed to get the hell out of Sydney, and soon.

As she came around a corner, Chelsea caught sight of a blast of purple heading in the other direction. Turning around, she spotted the woman she’d been looking for, who was clearly also checking the rooms for a specific occupant.

“Hey!” Smythe called out. The woman spun towards her, and suddenly, Smythe recognized her.

It was the assassin who’d tried to kill Stall before!

“Bollucks!” Chelsea cursed as she reached behind her dress to pull out the concealed pistol she had there behind the obnoxious bow attached to the small of her back. At the same time, Raven reached up between her legs and yanked out a wicked looking dagger. Chelsea smiled as she aimed the pistol, but the killer dove down a hallway before she could get a shot off.

Suddenly, it was more important than ever to find Stall.

* * *

“Oh, Fuck YES!”

Richard Stall had finally managed to get himself back into the action with Natalie Imbruglia and Dannii Minogue, and he currently was thrusting away deep into Dannii’s ass while she ate out Natalie. This was going to be one hell of a tape – the Timekeeper’s Club would be congratulating him for a month when they saw this one.

But Stall couldn’t hold back any more, and as Natalie’s second orgasm began to overtake her, Stall let go himself, flooding Dannii’s rear end with his juice for the second time in well less than 24 hours.

Some days, he just couldn’t believe how good his life was.

Suddenly, the door to the room burst open. Natalie and Dannii both shrieked, struggling to cover themselves up with the sheets, leaving Stall standing in the middle of the room, completely naked, his wet dick hanging out and exposed.

The doorway was filled with an all-too-familiar silhouette – a lithe female, hands on hips, and clearly angry.

“Richard Stall, I’ve been looking all over for you,” the woman in the doorway said.

And suddenly, Richard Stall’s life didn’t seem nearly so good.

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