Around The World In 80 Babes – Chapter 33: Realignments

Around the World in 80 Babes

by: TRL

Chapter 33: Realignments

Disclaimer: The follow, as ever, is a work of fiction.
None of it ever happened, so don’t get pissed if you
run across anyone mentioned within and they don’t know
what the hell you’re talking about. This story
contains trace amounts of lesbian incest between
grown, adult sisters. if that’s not your thing…
well, there really ain’t that much, so you could
probably get by anyway, but if it’s a principle thing,
you might as well stop reading now. Everyone else

July 3rd, 2005

The Mansion of Richard

London, England

“Your return has greatly increased the financial health of all your companies, Mr. Stall, but I still can’t see justifying the expense of these massive security arrangements. And hiring a whole new group of bodyguards? It seems a bit extravagant, don’t you think?”

Richard Stall, wealthy industrialist and financial wizard, looked up at Pierre, his personal aide, and frowned. “Perhaps you forget what happened to Mr. Burke while I was in Mexico?”

“Regrettable, indeed, Mr. Stall, but you’re planning on spending upwards of two million pounds on these security endeavors. Surely you can get by on less-”

“No, Pierre, I can not. Now, unless you have something more important to discuss with me, I need time to myself. The first of the new security companies should be arriving within the hour to apply for the job.”

“Yes, Mr. Stall. I’ll be sure to send them in when they arrive.” With that Pierre left the office, leaving Stall alone.

For the most part.

“Hey, Boss,” Tomas Lambert’s voice filled Stall’s ear. “Got a moment?”

“Not really, Lambert,” Stall said, knowing the tiny microphone he wore would pick up his voice and transmit it to Lambert’s secret hideout, “The Pit.”

“Well, when you do, get in touch with me. I’ve got something new to show you.”

“Good. We may need something new if I’m going to win this bet by the end of the year.”

Stall sighed. For the last six months, he’d been traveling the world, attempting to gain video images of famous women having sex. For the most part, he’d been successful, landing footage of such babes as Kate Beckinsale, Halle Berry, and Salma Hayek having sex or masturbating. He had footage of straight sex, lesbian sex, and interracial sex. Threesomes and shower scenes were covered. There were even a few extra-martial affairs that, if the news got out, would prove quite embarrassing to many celebs. So far, Stall had footage of 46 celebs on tape. More than halfway through the 80 he needed.

But he hadn’t been able to do it alone. He’d needed help. Lambert, an expert in cameras and chemical aphrodisiacs, had been the single greatest boon to his efforts. But Lambert alone hadn’t been enough. Stall had needed more help than that.

Many of his tapes included footage of a 19-year-old American girl named Marissa Call. A former high-stakes prostitute, Stall had run across Marissa in France, and had been employing her to help catch celebs having sex ever since. Marissa had probably bagged more of the women that Stall himself had, especially lately.

Stall had also needed help from Michael Burke. A young man of African-American descent, Burke had started out as Stall’s driver, then progressed to bodyguard, before ending up on camera with several women – most notably a fantastic foursome with the girls of Destiny’s Child. Burke had been game to do whatever Stall asked of him, and had proven a more than loyal friend.

And then Mexico happened. In a daring raid, assassins had tried (not for the first time) to kill Stall. This time, they managed to get to Michael Burke. Stall’s former bodyguard had been raped by another man, and then systematically sliced, stabbed, and cut until he nearly bled to death. Had Lambert not seen what was going on through one of his cameras, the killer would have slashed Burke’s throat, and then gone after Stall, all with none the wiser. Now there was a very good chance Michael Burke would never walk again. He certainly wouldn’t be helping out with Stall’s efforts to videotape celebs.

Complicating matters was the fact that Marissa Call had fallen in love with Burke – who clearly also lover her. Since the attack, Marissa had barely left Burke’s side, and she certainly hadn’t mentioned anything about having sex on camera again. It was very likely that, when the time came for Stall to leave England again, it would be without Marissa Call to help him out.

This left Stall in a considerably nasty spot. He still needed 34 women to make up the list of 80 babes he needed. He also needed to travel at least to Australia and Asia to score some of those women, to meet the requirement that they be from around the world. Stall had originally hoped for a lengthy stay in Hollywood itself, to catch the fish where they were most biting, as it were. Now all of that looked to be in jeopardy.

And if Stall couldn’t get those tapes, he would loose 50 million pounds, on top of the financial losses of the year, which would easily be another 25 million pounds. Stall was wealthy, knew his way around business, and had significant stockpiles of cash, stocks, and property. But a loss of roughly 75 million pounds would ruin him. His companies would have limited capital to work with. His investors would see his losses as unacceptable and bail out. His stocks would drop. He would be pushed just to make payroll for his employees.

In short, losing the bet wouldn’t finish him financially, but trying to repair the damages most likely would. Richard Stall needed those women on tape, or everything he’d worked for his entire life would be lost forever.

There were possibilities, of course. Lambert claimed to have something new underway that would help in that department, and Lambert’s team of helpers had already set out to bug a large number of celebrity homes and hotel rooms here in London, just incase they should stumble across a celeb getting lucky, and thus get lucky themselves.

Stall considered replacing Marissa Call with another whore, but he knew he’d never find one on the same level as Marissa when it came to celebrity desire – somewhere in her short, sordid past, the 19-year-old blonde had developed a reputation among famous women as the perfect person to experiment with when it came to lesbian sex – a reputation that had only grown since teaming up secretly with Lambert’s chemicals. No whore of the street could claim that, nor could just any old escort or call girl.

Of course, Stall had never counted on having Marissa working for him. In fact, even after she’d first joined up, he expected her gone as soon as they left France. She’d stuck on through death threats, a gang-rape in South Africa, and a serious stint of Stall taking her for granted. Stall had never expected to have her help in getting 80 famous women on tape, but since he’d had her aboard, he couldn’t imagine doing it without her.

Of course now, it looked like he just might have to.

There was a knock at the door, causing Stall to blink and come out of his grim woolgathering. He looked up to see Pierre walking in, followed by four individuals – two tall black men in suits and sunglasses, and two rather petite women, one blonde, one brunette. The two men instantly took up flanking positions on either side of the door and settled in like guards, while the two women came in to sit down across the desk from Stall.

“The representative’s from Griffin Security, Mr. Stall,” Pierre said, closing the door as he left.

It took Stall a second to remember why these people were here, but as soon as he did, he smiled.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said, smiling slightly.

“That’s part of our job, Mr. Stall,” the blonde woman said, offering her hand. “I’m Chelsea Smythe, I’ll be your agent in charge, should you decide to go with us.”

“Miss Smythe, a pleasure.”

“I’m sure,” Smythe said simply, pulling out a small laptop. “We here at Griffin Security take situations like yours very seriously. As I understand it, you’ve come under direct attack three times in the last six months alone?”

“Four, if you count that debacle in South Africa, but that was a different situation all together.”

“Do you know who’s attacking you?”

“Not by name, though it appears to be the same two people each time – a large black man, and a small, brunette woman.”

Smythe exchanged a glance with the brunette sitting next to her. Stall was about to ask her name when Smythe continued speaking.

“That clearly sounds like a small assassin team. In fact, when we get back to our office, we’ll run a check for any known teams who match your description. I don’t suppose you have any photographs of these people?”

“No,” Stall lied. They did, indeed, have some quality video footage of the man, but that same footage showed him brutally raping Michael Burke, and Stall flat out refused to let anyone see it. Burke was embarrassed enough about it, he certainly didn’t need it shown to the world. In fact, outside of Stall and Lambert, no one else knew the footage existed, and Stall intended to keep it that way, his own safety be damned.

“That’s not surprising,” Smythe went on. “I understand you’ve put in an extensive video suite here in the mansion, correct?”

“Just in the last few days – I own several small video companies, and had an expert rig almost every room in the building with cutting edge micro-cameras.”

“I’d like to see your security room later – if you hire us, of course.”

“Of course,” Stall said, nonchalantly.

“Mr. Stall, let me be frank. In a situation such as yours, no amount of security is going to keep you safe from professional assassins determined to get the job done. If they’re out to kill you – and it sounds like they are – they will find a way to get to you, even if it means driving a delivery truck up to the front gate filled with enough explosives to make anything happening in Iraq look like a picnic in comparison.”

That made Stall blink. A car bomb was something he’d never considered.

“Now, as I understand it, these people have only attacked you while you were overseas, correct?”

“That’s correct,” Stall said.

“Then they’re bound to come to this mansion, sooner or later. How long before you leave again?”

“I’m hoping to make a trip to Japan by the first of next month.”

“Less than thirty days. If they know that, they’ll come for you before then,” Smythe said. “Mr. Stall, if you hire us, I guarantee you we will take a proactive effort to put an end to these attacks.”

“Proactive?” Stall asked. “Could you clarify that a little for me?”

“With your permission, I’d like to set a trap for these killers. And hopefully put an end to them before they can do any more harm.”

“These people are trained killers. They just waltz through a huge number of armed guards and almost killed my personal bodyguard. What makes you think you can beat them?”

Smythe smiled, and Stall momentarily forgot he was looking to hire this woman. The wolfish grin on her face seemed so opposed to the tiny blonde thing she seemed to be otherwise.

“Mr. Stall,” Smythe said, motioning towards the woman sitting next to her. “This is Tchelet Appleberg, formerly of the Israeli Mosad. Expert marksman, first degree blackbelt in three different forms of martial arts, and highly trained in the arts of disguise. I’ve seen her disappear into a crowd in less than thirty seconds, only to show up behind you with a knife at your throat.”

“Mr. Stall,” Appleberg said, smiling politely.

“Sometimes, Mr. Stall, you need to fight fire with fire,” Smythe said.

“Fire with fire, eh?” Stall said.

“If anyone can get rid of these people after you, it’s Tchelet,” Smythe said, smiling that devilish smile again.

“Miss Smythe,” Stall said, standing up. “I believe you’re hired.”

* * *

July 3rd, 2005

“The Pit.”

London, England

Richard Stall arrived ten minutes late to Tom Lambert’s secret apartment lab – in part due to the fact that he didn’t want his temporary driver to know exactly where it was, and in part because his temporary driver had started off heading in the wrong direction. Stall already missed having Burke with him. Burke knew the streets of London like the back of his hand, which was even more amazing when one considered that he was an American.

Still, temporary help was just that – temporary. Stall would begin looking for a new driver the next day.

“You’re late,” Lambert said, not even looking up from his computer screens as Stall entered. “The party’s already started.”

“Party?” Stall asked. “You’ve got someone on tape?”

“Getting someone,” Lambert said, smiling. “Several someones.”

Stall was around the desk and looking down at the screen before Lambert could finish speaking. Before them the image of three extremely lovely women appeared. They were in the process of stripping each other and making out. Each had dark hair and bodies that could very easily inspire more than a few male fantasies – though, judging from the way they were fondling each other, they’d prefer to inspire female fantasies.

“Your newest tape will feature celebrity lesbian incest,” Lambert said casually.

“Incest?” Stall asked. He hadn’t seen a good shot of a face yet – though the amount of flawless skin rapidly becoming visible he hadn’t really thought about faces much.

“You’re looking at the suddenly very-loving Corr sisters – Sharon, Caroline, and Andrea.”

“They have sex with each other?” Stall asked. Sure enough, that was indeed Andrea Corr licking her sister Caroline’s tits.

“Well, they just started right now,” Lambert said, seeming awfully proud of himself.

“Maybe you’d better clue me in,” Stall said as he watched Sharon start to rather passionately make out with Andrea.

“You’re looking at the results of my latest improvement to my chemical aphrodisiac,” Lambert said. On the screen, Caroline had taken both of Sharon’s breasts in her hands while kissing her neck from behind. This allowed Andrea to kiss down Sharon’s stomach until she reached her sister’s snatch. There, like an experienced pro, Andrea pulled open Sharon’s folds and slowly started licking away.

“Your chemical can make three sisters go so sex crazy they’ll resort to incest?” Stall asked.

“Yes and no. To be honest, I suspect there was always so latent sexual attraction between them. What my chemical has done is overpower their sense of reason with a sense of lust and need. It’s like I got them drunk and horny in a mater of minutes, only with no alcohol.”

“A matter of minutes?” Stall asked as Caroline helped Andrea lower Sharon to the nearest bed. There, the two sisters went to work on the third, their tongues and fingers going everywhere on Sharon’s body, as well as occasionally onto one of the other two. “I thought you said this was taking place live.”

“It is,” Lambert said. “And that’ really the improvement. For the chemical, all I really did was make it stronger – though that’s had a few side effects thrown in now. The real improvement came actually with the cameras my people installed in this hotel room. See, they’re now equipped with tiny spray nozzles attached to a significant supply of my boosted chemical. That room they’re fucking in was saturated with the chemical for up to ten minutes.”

“In other words, you made the chemical work just through inhalation,” Stall said, watching Caroline Corr move around behind Andrea and start ramming fingers up her sister’s pussy.

“Yes, but it doesn’t last long that way,” Lambert sighed. “Ten minutes in a room that size would be as long as it would last. Beyond that, and it reverts into the contact-needed type for another five, maybe ten minutes before becoming completely useless. The problem is that the chemical becomes so spread out through the room when in reverts that a person would essentially have to run their hands along the carpets or a table or something for several seconds before coming into the same amount of chemical that your watch usually sprays on your hand. And, as you know, that can take several minutes to work, and sometimes a subject can fight past that amount of chemical if the situation they’re in requires their attention in a non-sexual way. Had the Corrs here gotten less, I suspect their natural taboo against incest would’ve prevented them from licking each other’s nipples and fingering their cunts.”

“But if you fill a room while someone was, say, talking on the phone or watching the Tele, they’d need sex right away?”

“Within sixty seconds at that rate,” Lambert said. “It might be even less time if they’re in the room while the chemical is entering the air, because they’d be breathing a less settled dosage. But that would probably vary person to person.”

“What if they’re alone?” Stall asked as he watched Sharon Corr roll off the bed and ram her fingers into Andrea’s suddenly wide-open pussy.

“That’s problematic,” Lambert said. “They’d either start masturbating right there, which would be good for us, or they could leave the room to go look for a partner. That, obviously, would be bad for us because it would be highly unlikely that they’d return to the room where the cameras were set up.”

“That would be a shame,” Stall muttered as he watched Sharon push Andrea’s head down into Caroline’s crotch, while simultaneously cramming her fingers up Andrea’s pussy from behind. “You mentioned something about side effects now?”

“Yes, a couple of very big ones,” Lambert said. “The first is that the new airborne version of the chemical, if inhaled, works a great deal like alcohol. By going in through the lungs, it cuts to the bloodstream almost as fast as blood can pump. That’s why there’s only a sixty second or so time period before it kicks in – it only takes that long to reach the brain and really start to effect it. The problem is that AFTER the sex, it continues to work very much like alcohol – the Corrs here are about to feel like they’ve gone on a nasty bender. In fact, orgasm seems to completely drain the body of it’s resistance. Once they girls here have climaxed, they’re pretty much going to fall asleep. And, just as if they’d passed out from drinking, they’re going to be dead to the world. I would expect that bed they’re in to be wet in about 12 hours when they finally wake up. And when they do wake up, they’ll have the worst hangover they’ve ever had in their lives. Chances are, aside from being naked, they won’t remember anything about what’s happened since they came into contact with the chemical.”

“Remind me not to let Marissa into contact with the new chemical,” Stall said. He didn’t add that he wasn’t even sure Marissa would ever use the chemical again.

“There’s one more side effect you should know about, boss,” Lambert said. “Because of the potency of the chemical, the airborne version can now effect men, too.”

Stall blinked. “What?”

“Men,” Lambert said. “And it’s worse for men then it is for women. For starters, this stuff works like instant Viagra – your dick will be hard in about a sixth of a second after exposure. And it’s going to stay that way. You’ll also experience the same release of taboos that the Corrs here have. In other words, if the only warm body in the room other than yours is a guy, and you find him anything less than completely disgusting, you and he will be fighting over who gets to plow the other one’s ass before you can say ‘sexually confused.’”

“You can’t be serious,” Stall said.

“Two of my guys accidentally dropped a canister of this stuff when loading that room with cameras and the chemical. I watched two very hetero men go from talking about how hot Sienna Miller is to a very naked sixty-nine position in less than thirty seconds – most of that time was just getting naked. They haven’t woken up yet, but when they do, I hope they’ve forgotten all about their little trip over the rainbow.”

“My god, that’s insane!” Stall said.

“I’m not done yet,” Lambert said. “Men drop off into unconsciousness the instant they ejaculate – sometimes before they’ve even finished blowing their loads. And they stay knocked out longer – my two workers are up to fifteen hours right now, but my longest test went almost seventeen hours.”

“With the woman only being out about twelve, right?” Stall asked.

“Correct, but that’s not the part that worries me, boss. If you were to come into contact with this stuff, as soon as you came, you could be out for up to nineteen hours. We know the guys who are after you were tracking us through my signals. Now I’ve changed the coding, added a few anti-hacking firewalls, and altered the frequency, but that doesn’t mean my broadcasts are impossible to break. If they did it before, they can do it again.”

“And if I’m unconscious for almost a full day, I’m a sitting duck for those bastards, aren’t I?” Stall said, frowning. Suddenly, he wasn’t nearly as interested in how Andrea Corr was fisting her sister Caroline.

“Even if we could get you out of the room you fucked in, we obviously wouldn’t be able to get you on a plane. You’d be nothing but dead weight. I don’t care how many bodyguards you hire, and if you trusted them to be in the room with you while you fuck, I wouldn’t want to be the guy responsible for hauling you around while someone’s shooting at your limp form.”

“Nor would I particularly want to be unable to run away on my own,” Stall said. “Still, if we only use the airborne chemical in places I’m not going to be…”

“That’s your choice, Boss, but I’m not sure we should use it after this one little experiment.”

“Why not?” Stall said. “We’ll keep using the regular chemical in the watches, and your people can be careful placing it in hotel rooms and the various celebrity mansions we need to get. This is exactly what I need to finish off my bet, Lambert. Fantastic work.”

“I’m just saying it’s dangerous, Boss. A lot more dangerous than the regular chemical.”

“We’ll try it for now – if something goes wrong, we’ll stop using it,” Stall said. For a second he focused on the screen, where Sharon Corr was having what appeared to be a rather vocal orgasm on the tongue of one of her sisters. As Stall watched, Sharon’s eyes closed, and she collapsed to the bed, clearly out for the count. Her sisters, Andrea and Caroline, ignored her, concentrating on each other while rolling over Sharon’s naked body to get at each other.

“If you can get me thirty more videos just like that, Lambert, then I’ll win this bet hands down. This improved chemical could be the answer I’ve been looking for.”

“You’re the boss, Boss. I’ll start having my people put it in all the rooms we bug. I’d still suggest you wear your watch – wouldn’t want to miss out, in case you actually meet some of these celebs in person, right?”

“Absolutely,” Stall said, slapping Lambert on the back. On the screen, Andrea and Caroline had succeeded in getting each other to cum at the same time, and they quickly joined their sister as prone, naked forms on the bed. Stall smiled, thinking of how he was now that much closer to winning his bet, and gaining control of the Timekeeper’s Club.

* * *

July 3rd, 2005

The Mansion of William Neal

London, England

“Your incompetent assassins have had six months to bring me the head of Richard Stall,” William Neal raged at his guest. “How is it that he’s back home, living the high life right here in London while your killers are nowhere to be found?!”

The man known only as Blackbird sipped his tea casually, ignoring Neal’s fury. The tea was a bit bitter – could’ve used another lump of sugar easily, maybe even two. That would’ve been a whopping four cubes, though, and that was considered far too indulgent for polite company. Or even a rampaging William Neal. Truly, Neal served some of the worst tea in all of England.

“Well?!” Neal demanded. “What’s your excuse this time?”

“I have no excuse,” Blackbird said, putting down his tea. “Stall simply managed to escape again. To be fair, he was surrounded by a rather impressive number of armed guards. But you know all of this already. I assume you didn’t just call me here to rant and rave. I still have until the end of the year to meet this contract.”

“When I gave you that time limit, I thought perhaps you wouldn’t need the entire year to complete your assignment,” Neal snarled. “I have to deal with Stall this week. I had hoped not to have to look at the man again until he was in his coffin.”

“You have business with Mr. Stall?” Blackbird asked, almost too casually.

Neal shot him a look. “It’s none of your business. But if you can’t have him killed by Friday, lay off until at least Saturday. I don’t want any connection between his death and me.”

“So no killing Stall on the 8th of this month, then?” Blackbird asked.

“Exactly. Before, fine. After, fine. Just not on the day I have to deal with him.”

“As you wish. My people won’t all be assembled here until the fifteenth anyway.”

“Assembled? What, did those two incompetents take different flights out of Mexico?”

“Actually no,” Blackbird said, standing up an smiling politely. “I’ve decided that you’re absolutely right. This has gone on too long already. I’ve called in two additional teams to help put this contract behind us. Stall has been very lucky in avoiding two professional killers, but even he doesn’t have enough luck to avoid six of them.”

Neal frowned as his guest smiled enigmatically at him. “You could say there’s a dark cloud on Richard Stall’s horizon. And he’s about to see just how deadly a Blackbird Flock can be.”

“As long as it gets results,” Neal said.

“It will, Mr. Neal,” Blackbird replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll show myself out.”

William Neal watched Blackbird leave and sighed. He was going to hate the next Timekeeper’s Club meeting. But at least it would be the last Richard Stall ever attended.

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