Around The World In 80 Babes – Chapter 34: Confrontations

Around the World in 80 Babes

by: TRL

Chapter 34: Confrontations

Warning: The Following is Fiction. Please take it as such. No celeb mentioned within was harmed during the
writing of this story, and probably wouldn’t do anything she’s shown doing within. Don’t Like? Don’t Read. See, that was easy.

July 8th, 2005

The Mansion of Richard Stall

London, England

“You’re trying to tell me that after being away from England for more than three months, Richard Stall isn’t here, a mere week after he returned.”

“I’m afraid not, Inspector,”
Pierre DeLaCourt, Richard Stall’s personal aide, responded as he stood in the doorway.

Inspector Agnes Stone sighed. “What about Michael Burke, Mr. Stall’s former driver?”

“Away at physical therapy,” DeLaCourt said.

“Marissa Call?”

“With Mr. Burke.”

“Naturally,” Stone muttered. “Listen, Mr. DeLaCourt, Mr. Stall owes me some answers. Quite a few of them, actually. Do you know when he’ll be returning?”

“Not until very late tonight, I’m afraid,” DeLaCourt said. “He has business that keeps him out rather late at least once a week when he’s in town.”

“And yet he’s been out of town quite a bit lately,” Stone grumbled.

“A fact I am far too aware of, Inspector,” DeLaCourt replied. “If you wish, I can have Mr. Stall give you a call first thing in the morning.”

“I’d appreciate that,” the Blonde inspector muttered, handing DeLaCourt a card, but not really expecting anything to come out of it. Richard Stall had done a fantastic job of avoiding her for months now. Somehow, she doubted a polite request to give her a call would result in any changes.

“I’ll make sure you’re on his schedule,” DeLaCourt replied.

“You set Mr. Stall’s schedule?” Stone asked, mildly surprised.

“In as much as he pays attention to it, yes.”

“Do you schedule his appointments?” Stone asked.

“Yes, I do. Would you care for me to set one up for you?”

“Yes,” Stone said, smiling. “Yes, I would. How about sometime tomorrow?”

* * *

July 8th, 2005

The Timekeeper’s Club

London, England

“… And, upon climax, I quickly flipped Miss McAndrew over and spanked her ass.”

Richard Stall had a horrendous sense of deja vu while listening to William Neal’s most recent celebrity conquest. Or at least his supposed conquest. All Neal offered in proof were a few grainy photographs of him and Nell McAndrew talking together outside her apartment building. If one were of a suspicious mind, one might assume that Neal was making the story up – after all, every single one of Neal’s stories about sleeping with celebs sounded exactly the same – they all started with him wooing the girl in question at a restaurant before taking her back to her place and getting inside her panties. And Neal always ended up spanking the poor girl’s ass after he blew his load inside her.

Unfortunately, this time, William Neal wasn’t lying. He had, indeed, managed to fuck Nell McAndrew two night ago, almost exactly as he suggested the events transpired. Stall knew this first hand. But for once, one of William Neal’s boastful conquests was going to work in Stall’s favor.

“So, William,” Stall said out loud, interrupting the other man. Everyone shot him a look. It wasn’t unheard of for a Timekeeper to interrupt another one, but it was rare during the telling of a conquest, and even rarer when the person speaking was the Staffholder for the year – which, of course, Neal was. “How long are we going to have to listen to you go on about your night before you provide us with proof?”

“Proof, Stall?” Neal snarled, clearly unhappy with Stall interrupting him. “I showed you the pictures.”

“Dreadful examples of photography there, William,” Stall said, waving off Neal’s comment. “Clearly your camera man needs to enter the digital era. You’re a century behind, William. They’re so much easier to crop and photoshop.”

“You doubt my claim?” Neal said, his face going a bit red with anger. THAT was almost unheard of. One did not go around claiming a fellow Timekeeper of trying to fool the Club.

“Not at all. I know full well you did, indeed, have sexual intercourse with Nell McAndrew two nights ago. I know for a fact that it happened almost nothing like how you described, too.”

“WHAT?” Neal roared. “You dare-”

“As I remember, she dared you to let her fuck you up the ass with a strap-on,” Stall said, smiling wickedly. “Now, I knew you wouldn’t go for that, but I was surprised to watch her slap YOUR ass several times.”

“You lying BASTARD!” Neal shouted, before suddenly being held back by two other Timekeepers.

“Calm down, William!” Dr. Al-Qahtari shouted. “If Richard has a point to this madness, I’m sure he’ll get right to it. Won’t you, Richard?”

“Of course,” Stall said. “I have the video proof that our illustrious Staff Holder has been lying to us, if not just earlier today, then since he joined us.”

“Video proof,” Al-Qahtari said slowly.

“My people had her flat bugged, just in case,” Stall smiled. “After all, I still have many more celebs to bring to all of you.”

“You son of a bitch, you were spying on me!” Neal shouted.

“I most certainly was not,” Stall said. “I was spying on Nell McAndrew. I must commend you on nabbing that particular bird, William – I’d always fancied her ass myself. Perhaps some day I’ll get to do what you did two nights ago,” Stall said. He paused, then added “Well, maybe not EVERYTHING you did.”

“You smug wanker,” Neal snarled. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Calmness, William,” Al-Qahtari. “Richard, have you got the tape with you?”

“Indeed,” Stall said, holding up the DVD copy his computer expert Tomas Lambert had burned for him mere hours earlier. “Would you care to see it?”

“No,” Neal said at once.

“If it’s part of your bet with the rest of us, Richard, I’m afraid we’ll have to.”

“It most certainly IS a part of my bet – I can’t pass up showing any video I’ve made until I reach 80, now can I.”

“Bollucks,” Neal muttered under his breath as Stall placed the DVD into the player at the front of the room.

* * *

July 8th, 2005

The Mansion of Richard Stall

London, England

“You did so well today,” Marissa Call said, helping to wheel Michael Burke’s wheel chair into the living section of Stall’s mansion. The two were sharing a room on the second floor, though most nights, Marissa slept in a different room across the hall. She had a tendency to roll about in her sleep, and Michael’s injured legs weren’t ready for that just yet.

“I keep telling you, I will walk again,” Burke said. “Before the end of the year, I’d bet.”

“I believe you,” Marissa said, giving Burke a little kiss on the cheek. “I never doubted it.”

“Just give me time,” Burke said as the two approached the elevator. “Today I may have just been moving my foot, but it proves the nerves still work in my legs. If I keep working, I’ll get it all back.”

Marissa was about to warn him against working too hard when the elevator door opened before them. Stepping out were two of the newest members of Richard Stall’s team – Chelsea Smythe and Tchelet Appleberg. The two women were heading up Stall’s new security detail, and they’d barely left the house since Stall had hired them.

“Oh, Mr. Burke, Miss Call,” Smythe said, nodding at them. “Back from your physical therapy?”

“That’s right,” Burke said, wiggling his foot slightly in demonstration. “Successfully, too, I might add.”

“That’s wonderful,” Smythe said. Appleberg merely nodded. Marissa couldn’t recall the Israeli ever actually saying anything. Perhaps she didn’t speak english…

“Tchelet, have you gone over the reports Mr. Burke was kind enough to complete for us on the attackers?”

“Yes,” Appleberg replied. Marissa was surprised to find the hard-looking woman’s voice soft and almost musical. Considering the ice cold look that was always in her eyes, Marissa almost expected her to sound like Darth Vader when she spoke. “It’s quite clear that the two who attacked Mr. Burke in Mexico were the same ones who came after Mr. Stall in both New York and Miami. I would even guess that they are the same team who attacked Mr. Stall in Germany earlier this year.”

“You got all that just from what I gave you?” Burke asked, surprised.

“Tchelet’s the best in the business,” Smythe replied, flicking a strand of her blonde hair back over her shoulders.

“Can you stop them?” Marissa asked.

“We can,” Appleberg said simply. “And we will.” With that, the two security women moved off down the hall.

“Somehow,” Burke said, craning his neck around as best he could in his chair, “I believe her.”

“And that scares me,” Marissa said, feeling a little shiver cut through her body.

* * *

July 8th, 2005

The Timekeeper’s Club

London, England

“Spank my ass, baby!”

Richard Stall tried as hard as he could to keep the grin off his face, but was failing rather miserably.

On the large screen the Timekeeper’s club had adopted to watch the various sex films Stall kept bringing back to them, was Timekeeper Staffholder William Neal, bare-ass naked, draped over the lap of model/actress Nell McAndrew. Nell was happily swatting away at Neal’s ass, leaving large, red hand marks on his cheeks. Red marks that were almost as red as Neal’s face was as he watched the video.

“You’ve been such a bad boy,” Nell said on the screen. “You need a real hard spanking.”

“Spank me hard, baby. Spank my ass Hard!”

“You’re such a bad boy!”


The outcry from William Neal shattered Stall’s good mood. He’d known this was coming, had seen part of it earlier, but hadn’t expected Neal to break with Timekeeper tradition.

“William!” Dr. Al-Qahtari shouted. “No Timekeeper may interrupt another during an official presentation!”

“This is no presentation!” Neal shouted. Behind him, the image of him rolling off Nell McAndrew’s lap and onto the floor showed his less-than-impressive manhood to the crowd. “This is pure slander!”

“Are you denying this happened?” Stall asked.

“If you do, you deny all of it, William,” Al-Qahtari said. “You will deny the very fact that you slept with Miss McAndrew. That would make you the only one here tonight with absolutely no new sexual encounters. You will be banned from the next meeting.”

“You can’t ban the Staffholder,” Neal snarled.

“It’s in the bylaws, William,” Al-Qahtari said. “No one’s above the rule, not even the Staffholder.

Neal went silent. Behind him, on the screen, the entire group could see Nell McAndrew shove William Neal’s head down into her lovely, bald crotch, forcing him to lick her out. As her ample tits bounced and her head thrashed, her pale skin seemed to contrast with the red color of the real William Neal’s face that was in the room with the other Timekeepers.

“You press your luck, Stall,” Neal said, jabbing a finger at the other man. “One day, your luck is going to run out.”

“Are you that worried about losing two million pounds, William?” Stall asked, casually. As the Staffholder, Neal was honor bound to pay Stall an extra million pounds in the bet that Stall couldn’t succeed in bringing 80 celebrities from around the world to the Timekeepers before the end of the year. With the video of Nell McAndrew in hand, Stall had a mere 31 more celebrities to go, and it was only July. What once looked like a longshot now seemed more and more certain, at least to the other Timekeepers. Stall was very careful not to let on that his whole system might just be falling apart around him.

He also hadn’t let on to the fact that someone was trying to kill him. Somehow, he thought that might not go over very well with the others.

“I don’t like what you’re doing, Stall,” Neal said, his voice cold – ironically, on the video behind him, he could be heard screaming out in pleasure. “It’s not right to be spying on other Timekeepers.”

“Didn’t we go over this already, William?” Stall asked, sighing. “I wasn’t spying on you at all.”

“Then you’d best never make another video with me in it,” Neal snarled.

“Believe me, William, I would like nothing more than that. Just stay away from any hot female celebs, and I promise it’ll never happen again.”

“You think you’re funny, Stall?” Neal asked.

“No, William, I most certainly do not,” Stall said, looking Neal directly in the eyes. “But I’m going to do every damn thing I can to win this bet. I’ve traveled half the world so far, and I’ll travel the rest of it before I’m done. That was the bet, and as a Timekeeper, I never back out on a bet. You bloody well know that, William. You know it, I know it, everyone here knows it. And you know what else we all know? We all know I’m going to win. And when I do, the absolute best part will be taking your money from you, William. I’ve been dreaming about that moment since I made this bet. You can be damn well sure that I’m going to love every single second of it.”

“You haven’t won yet, Stall,” Neal said. “And when I take YOUR money, I’ll be laughing so hard, because I know that you’ll have lost so much money, you won’t be able to afford to be a Timekeeper anymore.”

That silenced the entire room, save for the panting moans of Nell McAndrew, rapidly approaching orgasm on William Neal’s tongue in the video.

“What?” Stall asked carefully.

“I’ve had people keeping track of your finances, Stall,” Neal said, a smug look coming over his face. “You’ve lost a lot of money this year, and your jet-setting lifestyle isn’t helping matters. You lose this bet, and you lose twenty-five million pounds, you’ll drop below the membership financial requirements.”

“You’ve been spying on me?” Stall said, his voice cold and emotionless.”

“Just your finances,” Neal said, his smile getting bigger. “After all, I want to be sure you can pay your bet when you lose.”

“You son of a bitch,” Stall said quietly.

“Enjoy this moment, Stall,” Neal said, waving his arms about to highlight the Timekeeper’s Club meeting hall. “You never know when it might be your last time visiting as a Timekeeper.”

Neal turned back towards the others. “Shall we finish watching the video? I believe this is where I toss Miss McAndrew on the bed and start fucking her tits. Gorgeous things, those boobs. They feel wonderful wrapped around a cock.” Sure enough, on the screen, that exact even was happening, as the video William Neal pressed his hard on between the folds of Nell McAndrews breasts.

* * *

July 9th, 2005

The Mansion of Richard Stall

London, England

Ironically, the video of Nell McAndrew and William Neal was playing in the background as Stall and Tom Lambert went over Stall’s finances the next day in Stall’s private office. Somehow, the image of Nell McAndrew all but slapping around William Neal was good for Stall’s rapidly souring mood.

“That son of a bitch is right,” Stall muttered, slamming his fist down on the desk.

“What about those new projects I forwarded towards your R&D people?” Lambert asked. “The micro camera patents alone should bring you a small fortune – possibly more than you’ll make on the bet if you win.”

“Oh, they’ll be a big help, but there’s no way we can get them into production until late in 2006. By then, I’ll be tossed from the Timekeepers.”

“Can’t you just take a year off?” Marissa Call asked from where she sat watching the video.

“I could – in fact, it’s been done before by several people. But if I do, I’ll forfeit any chance of being the Staffholder any time in the next ten years.”

“Is being the Staffholder really that important?” Michael Burke asked.

“Would you look at that?” Marissa said quietly. “It looks like she’s deep throating his balls!”

“Focus here, Marissa,” Stall said. “To answer you question, Michael, yes. That’s the whole reason why I’m on this little crusade in the first place. It’s not the Twenty-five million pounds I want, it’s the Staffholder position I’ll be sure to get net year if I succeed in getting 80 videos brought in. No one else in the club is prepared for the new video dimension of celebrity fucking. This may be my only chance to make this change permanent, and prevent idiots like William Neal from ever again being Staffholder.”

“Hard to believe we’ve been doing all this just so you could be the president of the local hot babes fan club,” Marissa muttered. Suddenly, her eyes went wide. “Those breasts can’t be real.”

“Nell McAndrews?” Burke said. “No, I’m pretty sure they’re fake.”

“Look at how Neal’s using them for titty-fucking. You think the guy had never touched a pussy in his life,” Marissa muttered.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Burke flipped off the video and turned on the current financial news.

“Come in,” Stall called out.

The door opened and Chelsea Smythe and Tchelet Appleberg entered.

“Morning, Mr. Stall,” Smythe said warmly. Stall noticed she was wearing her business suit open for once, with a button or two undone towards the top, though not enough to show any cleavage. She looked relaxed for the first time that Stall had known her.

“Morning, Miss Smythe, Miss Appleberg.”

“Mr. Stall,” Appleberg replied. “Everyone,” she nodded towards the others, then stopped when looking at Lambert.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you haven’t met yet,” Stall said. “This is Tomas Lambert, one of my very best camera engineers and computer experts. He’s singlehandedly designed some radical advances in digital cameras that will revolutionize the industry in the next couple of years. Tomas, this is Chelsea Smythe, head of Griffin Security, and Tchelet Appleberg, her top agent.”

“A pleasure,” Lambert said, shaking each woman’s hands. Appleberg’s grip linger a second longer than it probably should have, and she looked less than pleased to see Lambert there.

“I assure you, Mr. Lambert is one of my top people. In fact, he designed and helped to install all the security cameras in the mansion.”

“Well, then I must thank you for making my job easier,” Smythe said. “The video coverage is excellent here.”

“You missed the blind spot on the upper roof,” Appleberg commented.

“Well, it’s not like anyone’s coming in from the roof,” Lambert said.

“You might be surprised,” Appleberg commented. “I want a camera up there.”


“String a camera up there, Lambert,” Stall said. “Let’s not anger our security personnel.”

“Alright, I’ll get to it this afternoon,” Lambert said.

“Can you do it any sooner?” Appleberg asked.

“Uh, probably not. I’ll have to run back to the P- er, my lab, and get a new camera, then loop it into the over-all net. Maybe even string some new power wires up there. There’s not a lot of room on the upper roof, you know.”

Smythe cut off any other comment from Appleberg. “This afternoon will be just fine. Thank you. Mr. Lambert.”

“Is there anything else we need to discuss, Miss Smythe?” Stall asked.

“Just these uncovered trips you like to take, Mr. Stall,” Smythe said. “Traveling outside of your security envelope, you’re putting yourself at risk. We can’t protect you if we don’t know where you are.”

“Indeed, you can’t,” Stall said. “But you have my word that when I’m on these little ‘extra-curricular’ excursions, I am well protect.”

“I’d still prefer it if you took your bodyguards with you.”

“I’m afraid that’s not allowed,” Stall said.

“By who?” Smythe asked.

“By the rules, Miss Smythe,” Stall replied coolly. “End of discussion.”

“If I may go on record as saying I don’t think this is wise-”

“It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, Miss Smythe. Just do your job around it. You have my word that should something happen to me when I’m out of your area of influence, I will not hold you responsible.”

“But I’ll hold myself responsible,” Smythe said.

“Then it’ll be your job to try and rescue me,” Stall said, simply.

“And if you’re dead?”

“Then you move on to your next job. I never asked for a vow of fealty, Miss Smythe.”

“And I most certainly haven’t given you one,” Smythe replied. “Never-the-less, I signed a contract. I will do what needs to be done to keep you protected.”

“You’re already doing everything you need to,” Stall said.

“As you wish,” Smythe said. She and Appleberg turned around and left, clearly not happy.

“Damn, she’s in a bitchy mood,” Marissa said.

“She’s just doing her job,” Burke commented.

“Then she can do it without so much lip,” Marissa said.

“Lambert, you’d best get on that roof camera. I don’t particularly want an angry Chelsea Smythe coming after me.”

“Right,” Lambert said. “I’ll see you guys later.”

* * *

Smythe and Appleberg made it as far as the mansion’s video control room before another word was said between them.

“He’s foolish,” Appleberg said as the door closed behind them. Smythe nodded as she watched the cameras showing Tomas Lambert leaving the mansion.

“You think he’s going to get in trouble on one of these little jaunts?”

“Absolutely,” Appleberg replied.

“Then the next time he goes on one, I want you to follow him. Richard Stall may think he’s protected wherever it is he goes – lets find out how tight the security is. Can you handle it?”

“Easily,” Tchelet Appleberg replied.

“Then do it.”

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