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Diversionary Tactics

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The afternoon had turned grey and cold, and Irene pulled her long, sable coat more tightly around her.

The young woman walking beside her had not fastened the belt on her thin, brown overcoat, and Irene watched appreciatively as the woman's hips swayed gently beneath the shifting fabric.

No. Molly Hooper was young, yes, and earnest, definitely, but she was no innocent flower. The look she had given Irene back at Bart's morgue had conveyed that as clearly as the deliberate swing of her hips did now.

"Friend of yours?" Molly asked, customary sympathy seeping into her voice.

"Client," Irene answered.

"Oh." Molly dropped her eyes to the chart in her hand. Irene looked over her clean, pressed uniform, her smooth, chestnut hair secured in a neat bun at the base of her neck, and wanted more than anything to muss her.

"No, it's not like that, darling," Irene purred, and she couldn't resist. She slid one finger along Molly's pinkening cheek, and Molly's eyes darted up to meet hers.

"Oh," Molly breathed out, eyes wide, but as Irene's fingertip traveled down Molly's jawline, Molly blinked up at her beneath long, dark lashes with a look that was shyly flirtatious. Irene watched Molly's gaze wander along her smartly coiffed waves of dark hair, dart past her eyes, and slip to stare at her red-painted lips.

Sudden and harsh on the ears, the air raid siren sounded, commanding Molly's attention, and Irene dropped her hand.

They waited until the spotter signalled that the planes were in view and then hustled across the street towards the underground station a few blocks from the hospital.

The roar of engines overhead made them both look up.

"Eager, aren't they?" Irene said, trying to keep the tone light, but then a deep rumble sounded in the street only a quarter mile ahead of them, an explosion spitting brick and dust into the air.  They turned away from the blast, each woman throwing an arm around the other protectively.

"Quick, in here." Irene kept her arm around Molly and propelled her into the nearest building, a multi-levelled house that had already had one half of its face blown off in a previous raid.  They stepped in around the rubble and Molly led the way down the stairs to the basement flat.

The door was, mercifully, unlocked, and the women barrelled in, but before they could get properly away from the small windows at the top of the wall, another explosion rocked the building, much closer this time, and the windows shattered inward, sending shards flying.

Irene, mostly protected by her long coat, shook bits of glass from her hair and, without looking, grabbed Molly's hand and pulled her over towards the far wall, behind the long-abandoned bed.

"Are you all right, love?" Irene asked, her own heart thumping a bit more than she would have liked to admit.

"Oh, yeah. It's only a scratch."

Irene looked over to her properly. Molly sat on the floor, half-reclined and breathing fast. A few tiny cuts along the right side of her face began to bead up in a sluggish way, as though Molly's blood were disinclined to hurry for such minor scratches. Molly shifted under the scrutiny, and a flash of red along the open edge of her uniform caught Irene's eye.

"You're bleeding."

Molly looked down. "Oh."

Thinking this was entirely too calm a response, Irene moved forward, and Molly, knocked off balance, reclined fully, her hands out at her sides. Irene's fingers unfastened the top few buttons of the starched white dress, pulling back the edge to reveal a short cut a few inches below Molly's collarbone. Though it bled a bit, it was not deep, and Molly seemed not to be in pain.

Rather, Molly seemed much more interested in the fact the Irene had her hands inside her dress. Irene's eyes scanned Molly's face.

Lips parted. Cheeks flush. Eyes dark.

Oh. This could be interesting. Irene's fingers moved to the third button of the dress and paused. "Shall I just . . . check the rest of you, then? Make sure you're quite all right?"

Molly swallowed and inhaled deeply, her chest rising beneath Irene's hands. "Yes, I think you'd better," she answered, her voice rough, and Irene's mouth curled into a wicked smile. If Irene had found Molly's subtle flirting diverting before, this now deliberate encouragement was intoxicating, and Irene vowed not to waste the opportunity to pay Molly back for all the distraction she'd caused.

The rumbling continued, both near and far, but Irene's world narrowed down to the buttons all down the front of Molly's uniform as she plotted how to unfasten Molly, take her apart as well. Irene's nimble fingers dipped beneath the fabric, and her hands moved apart, sliding over Molly's smooth, warm skin which shivered as the dress parted and fell away to her sides.  

Acres of ivory greeted her eyes, and she smiled to see the pink, lacy underthings that Molly wore beneath her uniform--the bra that cupped her breasts, the panties that skirted her hips, the delicate suspenders that led to the long white stockings.

Unwilling to delay another moment, Irene slipped both hands up along Molly's belly, their path diverging as they reached her chest. Each hand skated over each of Molly's covered breasts, and practiced fingers then tucked in underneath the lace, pulling the fabric down as they lifted out the warm and ready flesh. Irene took a moment, looking over the smooth curves, the rosy nipples that were already tightening in response. She rubbed her thumbs across the peaks, and Molly shuddered beneath her.

Irene tsked. "Oh, you're in a right state, Miss Hooper."

Molly's answer was part-sigh, part-whisper. "Yes."

"It's been a while, hasn't it, love, since you've let someone please you?"


"Well." Irene moved her palms across Molly's breasts, over her collarbone and shoulders, coming to grasp Molly's upper arms and press her down gently. "You'd best lie still and let me take care of you, then."

"Yes, ma'am," Molly answered, her eyes half-closed, and Irene thrilled to hear her say it so easily, so naturally.

"Good girl," Irene praised, and she sat back, kneeling at Molly's side. Irene brought her hands to Molly's knees, sliding them firmly down her thighs, pressing her legs apart into a vee. Molly's body obeyed beautifully, muscles relaxed and compliant. Irene's left hand trailed lazily along Molly's jaw and neck, stroking and cupping its way downward, attending to one breast, then the other, before winding her way back. Her hand rolled over eager lips, and Molly's mouth opened, her tongue coming out to tease along the length of Irene's fingers.

Irene smiled and dipped two fingers into Molly's hot, wet mouth, letting her suck and lick and nip. Her touch light but confident, Irene's right hand drifted lower along Molly's torso, coming to rest over her panties, gently cupping Molly through the silky fabric. Moaning softly around Irene's fingers still in her mouth, Molly undulated in encouragement.

Irene slipped her fingers from between Molly's lips and lowered them to brush lazily over each raised nipple, the slickness causing Molly to inhale sharply, and Irene could almost see the sensations sparking over Molly's skin as she teased the dark pink tips. She imagined teasing and tempting Molly's body for ages, holding her on the brink of release, with all the time in the world to let the pleasure recede and then build it up again. The picture in her mind of that future Molly--laid out upon the sumptuous bed in Irene's home, naked and beautifully restrained, her long hair loose and fanned out around her--threatened to become a delicious distraction. But the reality of their situation niggled its way into her thoughts. Soon, love. She smiled down at Molly's straining body and leaned over, bringing her lips closer to Molly's ear.

"Ready, love?"

Molly's head turned towards her, instinctively seeking her, and she nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Irene gave in to temptation and nipped quickly at Molly's earlobe, delighting in the surprised cry and the little groan that followed. While her left hand roamed Molly's breasts, caressing, massaging, but avoiding the nipples for the moment, Irene's right hand slid downward, pushing the pink panties as far off to the side as she could.

Her first touches were exploratory and gentle, parting Molly's folds only slightly, and she was not surprised to find them slick and warm beneath her fingers. Irene looked up at Molly's face and listened to the soft whimpers coming from her, judging the extent of her arousal. Molly's body nearly vibrated beneath her hands, and the sounds she heard became increasingly urgent.

"Don't worry, darling," Irene cooed, and she slipped two fingers inside Molly. "You'll be right as rain soon enough."

Molly's body seemed to fall in around Irene's fingers, pressing in on her as Irene curled and stroked in return. The pad of Irene's thumb sought Molly's clit, rubbing over it in gentle, wet circles. Molly's breath quickened, her spine flexing and thrusting her hips upwards, and Irene's fingers and thumb worked in tandem, their movements gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

Her fingers digging into the carpet below her, Molly writhed. Her words came out ragged, her voice nearly wrecked. "Please, oh, please . . . "

Smiling, Irene brought her lips to Molly's ear again, while her hands never ceased moving.

"Because you ask so sweetly," she whispered.

Irene slid back a bit, and then lowered her lips to Molly's breast, bestowing a small, dry kiss to her nipple. Molly gasped, a sound that out of context might have seemed to be pain, but Irene knew it for what it was, and decided to give Molly what she wanted, what she needed. The teasing over, Irene brought her lips to Molly in earnest, her tongue coming out to pass over Molly's nipple again and again. Molly's body nearly jumped beneath her hand, and Irene moved her thumb in a swirl, spiraling out and then in again, towards and over Molly's clit as her fingers slid firmly in and out below. With her other hand, Irene returned her fingers to Molly's mouth to be licked and sucked.

Whimpers transmuted into grunts, resounding deeply in Molly's throat, a physical thing Irene could feel through her fingers. With every push Irene made inward, Molly lifted her hips in response, urging Irene on.  Keen to feel Molly come undone beneath her hands, Irene doubled her efforts to push her over the edge. Her hands continued their mirrored movements, quickening the pace of their thrusts. Irene sucked at one breast hard, and then pulled off with a loud, wet pop, only to lean over Molly to reach her other breast. She drew Molly's nipple into her mouth, her crimson lipstick leaving sticky smears along Molly's breast as she sucked and licked at the nipple inside her mouth.

Molly's voice was gone. The moans coming from her now were deep and needy, and as they increased in pitch and frequency, Irene knew Molly was close. She felt Molly begin to squeeze around her fingers, felt the tremble in her hips. Irene nipped gently at Molly's breast, and at Molly's answering cry, she repeated the motion, a bit harder now, her teeth closing and scraping along her nipple.

Molly groaned in a desperate wail around Irene's fingers, and Irene felt Molly clench and buck around her right hand. Irene worked Molly through her orgasm, flicking her thumb over her clit, moving to suck gently at Molly's other breast as Molly came in waves, and Irene stayed with her as she shuddered.

Irene sank backwards a little as Molly recovered; Molly let her legs slide back down to the floor. Irene removed her hands, and took a moment to gaze admiringly over the length of Molly's body, at the way her stomach rose and fell as she took deep breaths, the flush along her chest, and the ruddy tips of her breasts. Irene's eyes slid up to meet Molly's.

"Feeling better?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

Molly only smiled widely in response, looking as if she were about to giggle.

The world around them came back into focus--the dingy room, the broken windows, the fact that the skies seemed quiet once again.

Molly looked ready to speak when Irene heard noises on the floor above them.

"Oh, dear," Irene said. "I think someone's coming to rescue us."

Molly did giggle then, and Irene pressed a finger to her lips. Molly sobered and looked up to Irene. "But what about . . ." She let the question trail against Irene's finger.

"Oh, don't you fret. I'm not done with you. Not by a long shot," Irene answered with heat, and Molly smiled as Irene's finger stroked across her bottom lip.

Footsteps above broke their connection as Irene dropped her hand away. "But I think we'd better tidy up."

Molly glanced down at her nearly fully exposed front side, and quickly began covering herself, tucking her breasts back inside her bra and nimbly rebuttoning the front of her dress. Irene rose smoothly and offered a hand to Molly, pulling her up beside her. Molly wobbled, and Irene directed her to the bed. Molly sat back and watched, half mesmerized, as Irene dug into her clutch and proceeded to reapply her lipstick. She pressed her lips together and then snapped the mirrored compact shut.

"Down here!" Irene threw out over her shoulder towards the stairs. She replaced the cap on the lipstick tube and dropped it back into her clutch.

"Do hurry! My friend has fainted!" she shouted, and Molly smiled wildly up at her, her brows drawn together.

"Don't laugh; you should see yourself," Irene scolded, and she shoved at Molly's shoulder, knocking her over playfully onto the dusty bed. Molly giggled, but at Irene's mockingly stern look, she made her face blank and splayed her limbs rather helplessly along the bed. Two men and a woman came down, and Molly let them fuss and fret over her until Irene stopped them.

"I'll see to it that she's taken care of," Irene assured them, linking arms with a now-standing Molly. She turned her head to face Molly and winked, though the others could not have seen it. " I know just what she needs."