Post Pattern (Burnside Mystery 1) Read Online Free PDF

Danielle's buttocks, the man appeared poised to swat his hand away.
To Max's good fortune his hand resided on her bottom for only a second.
Danielle gave a sexy smile that conveyed the message that she didn't really object.
    The girls danced and smiled and flirted for a few
minutes. Tiffany shook her long blonde tresses as she strutted over to the
guest of honor. Putting her billy club around the back of Norman's neck, she
rubbed her voluptuous body provocatively against his. Norman smiled in an
embarrassed sort of way and his face turned a shade of scarlet. The girls began
to peel off their clothes, starting with the shirts, button by button, until
they were discarded casually on the floor. They wiggled out of their tight
trousers, fabulous bodies hidden momentarily by extensive lingerie including
a-size-too-small bras. As each article of clothing came off, a hungry masculine
roar came out of the crowd, accompanied by the raw clapping of hands. These
were men determined to enjoy themselves.
    The girls continued to lift temperature levels
throughout the room, and it was with profound reservation that I steered my
eyes away from the temptresses and back to business. There were about twenty
men in the room and they formed a loose semi-circle around the dancers. One
fellow named Scotty was busy recording the event with a camcorder. I noticed a
few of the guys had jackets on, which was odd for a warm June evening. Judging
by the lumps protruding out from a couple of armpits, I got the feeling some
serious hardware was being packed. I also got the feeling I was the only one
licensed to do so.
    The girls' escort was Curt, and he made no secret about
letting his own piece dangle precariously from a shoulder holster. Advertising
one's armament up front can often deter having to produce it later. To Curt's
left, there was a football player named Evan who hid what was either a pistol
under his white linen jacket, or else a highly developed left rib. And on the
other side of the room was another player named Paul who wore loose fitting
trousers that seemed to bulge around his right ankle. Normally I'm the only one
packing something and the sight of a few compatriots was a concern. The ladies,
however, did not seem to notice. Maybe they were just used to this.
    "Who wants to play the whipped cream game?"
yelled Tiffany. By now the two were down to just their panties. A cadre of
volunteers stepped forward to meet the challenge. Lenny, the receiver whose skills
were lambasted by Robbie, took a step towards the girls before stumbling and
falling clumsily on his face. He staggered to his knees but as he attempted to
lift himself to his feet, he tumbled once again to the floor. Immediately,
Robbie was standing over him and counting to ten like a referee counting out a
boxer. By the count of seven, the whole party joined him.
    "Eight...nine...ten!!" they roared and
everyone applauded as Robbie held up the bottle of tequila and signaled the
bout was over.
    "The winner and still champion!" he cried.
    "Long live the champ!" a voice yelled.
    "Somebody give me a hand with this
lightweight," Robbie said. "We'll stick him in the next room."
The bouncer, Curt, stepped forward quickly and the two of them lifted the
fallen soldier from the carpet and dragged him off into Robbie's bedroom.
     The whipped cream
game consisted of spraying the white topping carefully on the breasts of the
two girls. After a dose was lavishly distributed the men would take turns
licking the cream off with their tongues. Norman was drafted as the first to
sample the wares and he did so competently, albeit without any real display of
enthusiasm. As he performed the ritual, the camcorder zoomed in for an
up-close-and-personal vantage point. Half a dozen more took turns lapping up
the confection before the girls removed their last remaining garments and took
the party to its next level.
    "Who wants to play the dildo game?"
    At this point I decided to leave. I didn't think
Norman's