Hot Sheets Read Online Free PDF Page A

you
later."
    Approaching
reception, Trudie stopped and gazed at Mike sitting at the desk
opening the mail. Poor man! she reflected. He'd been running the
hotel for five years and hadn't made a penny. The debts piling up,
the building falling into a state of disrepair, he was desperate
for cash. Discerning businessmen! she giggled inwardly, tugging her
miniskirt down to conceal her dripping pussy slit.
    "Hi, mate -
where's Goldie?" she asked, leaning on the desk, her dark eyes
sparkling with a lustful desire.
    "Still in the
dining room," Mike replied, looking up as the phone rang. "And
don't call me mate! I've placed the adverts."
    "When will
they be out?"
    "One mag said
later this week - I was lucky with my timing, it seems." Lifting
the receiver, he grinned as the royal voice purred in his ear.
    "Would one be
kind enough to send a cup of coffee to one's room, please?"
Princess Christina articulated.
    "Certainly,
Your Regalness. One will see to it that one's request is dealt with
straight away, Your Magesticness."
    "Thank
you."
    "Thank you,
Your Most Highly Esteemed Esteemedness."
    Replacing the
receiver, Mike turned to Trudie. "What a pleasant change it is to
have nobility staying at one's establishment!" he grinned proudly.
"Etiquette, eloquence, refinement... what a refreshing change!
Right, Her Aristocraticness requires coffee. Don't give her that
half price instant chicory shit, use the ground coffee."
    "OK, mate,"
Trudie obliged as the potato massaged her drenched vaginal walls,
sending electrifying sensations through her pelvis. "Ah, oh, that's
nice!" she breathed, wriggling her shapely hips.
    "What is?"
    "Er... ah!
Nothing."
    "What's the
matter with you, girl, do you need the loo?"
    "No, no it's
OK."
    "Take Her
Royalness some coffee and then do the rooms. If she does want a
lady- in-waiting, tell her I'd be delighted to oblige."
    "OK, mate,"
Trudie smiled, brushing her dark hair back and walking to the
kitchen, her cunny juice coursing down her thighs.
    "And stop
calling me mate! What do you think I am, a bloody condom?"
    Sifting
through the paperwork strewn across the desk, Mike looked up in
surprise as a police officer entered the building. Shit, I'll bet
it's about my fucking car tax! "Good morning, how can I help you?"
Or the local paper!
    "Good morning,
sir. I'm Inspector Dickwipe from Pox Green station. We're visiting
all the hotels in the area warning of a young woman who's going
around posing as anything from a baroness to a duchess."
    "Really?" Mike
gasped.
    "Yes, she
books in for a night or two and then disappears without paying her
bill. Several hoteliers have lent her cash, believing her to be
royalty. Would you be good enough to notify us if she turns up
here?"
    "Er... yes,
yes of course. Thanks for the tip-off."
    "Don't I know
you from somewhere?" the officer asked, his narrow eyes frowning,
looking Mike up and down.
    "Er... no, no
I've never been sketched in my life. What I mean is..."
    "I could have
sworn I'd seen a picture of you somewhere. It'll come to me later,
no doubt."
    "Yes, no
doubt."
    "Good day to
you, sir."
    "Good day."
Oh, shit!
    Watching the
officer leave the building, Mike rubbed his head. "Fucking
bastard!" he cursed, kicking the reception desk and stubbing his
toe. "Ouch! Shit, fuck, bollocks! What a bloody great morning this
is turning out to be!"
     
     

Chapter
Two
     
    Knocking back his fifth glass of neat vodka as he nursed his
aching toe at the bar, Mike wondered what to do with the so-called
Princess Christina. Deciding to pay Her Whoreness a visit, he took
the skeleton key from his pocket and bounded up the stairs. I'll
give her fucking princess, he mused, creeping along the
hall. Must take a look at the local
paper . Quietly unlocking her door, he
slipped into the room to find the young woman relaxing on the bed,
wearing only her bra and panties.
    "Oh!" the
scantily clad beauty gasped in embarrassment as Mike stood at the
end of the bed gazing at the swelling patch of blue silk