Griffith squinted.
The pale emerald-tinted facets of the facade of a small greenhouse glinted to the near side of the sundeck where Griffith saw stretched the supine nudity of his hostess and employer Constance Charity Eastwick-Westbrook.
She too resembled a jewel, for her oiled body shimmered in the scald of the sun.
What was the diamond, and what was the rough? And who, precisely, was this water nymph bathing in the buff?
Not that Griffith lent particularly heavy stock to what had been told him about Veronica by Morrigana.-after their strung-out verbal and sensual shadow-box.
He had planned to interview this houseguest of Constance next anyway. It impressed him neither way that he found her undressed.
Such was the nature of the place.
The nature of his business. Morrigana had her own reasons for distancing herself from Constance in her depiction of their relationship. It was Griffith’s job to determine her motivations and how or if they pertained to the situation in question.
And the same would be true of his upcoming encounter with Veronica.
Not a bad job, examining misses regarding the whereabouts of missing pearls.
And anyway, Griffith liked talking to girls.
“Excuse me,” he called, not bothering to avert his eyes.
“Oh. You surprised me.”
Veronica splashed the water to a froth about her bosom as she treaded toward the edge of the pool. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to sneak up on naked women like that?”
She spumed a spear of water toward him through slightly parted lips.
The stream snagged him along the leg of his pants. Wet the seam where his ballocks were piled alongside the stirring, coiled-up prick.
Veronica stuck out her tongue at him.
Griffith caught a glance of Veronica’s well’-trained nippletips.
Two panting pups. Standing up, like a pair of begging mutts. “I’m not exactly unannounced,” Griffith said with an inclination of his head.
“That’s okay,” Veronica said. “I’m only kidding. Help me out?”
She reached up and caught him about the forearm.
“Upsy-daisy,” he said.
“Bullshit.”
As he pulled upward, Veronica clutched higher on his arm. Kicked one gam out wide and slid her calf back in at an angle about his ankle.
“The fuck!”
Veronica jackknifed backward and to the side. Griffith sprang, plummeted into the water, the giggling Veronica splashing furiously.
She spat more water at him, turned tail and swam away. Her flutter-kick sent foaming water at Griffith’s face in his pursuit.
“You’ll never be able to catch me,” Veronica said with a snicker. “Not so long as you’ve got on those soaking duds.”
“We’ll see who’s quicker.”
“Or slicker. Come on, don’t be an ass-snarfing dweebo. It isn’t fair if I’m the only one bare.”
“I don’t care about fair,” Griffith said as he closed the gap between them. “Or bare.”
“Or that you’re a flaming aaaaassssshole! Who can never get a haaaard-on cause he’s got no dingdong and eschews the wearing of balls as an unnecessary vulgarism.”
He grabbed at her ankle.
Snapped out toward her wet tresses.
Snagged a slippery breast.
Veronica glided away with ease.
“Just flick yourself off if you’re gonna be like that, Mister Penismouth.”
Veronica called out gaily. “If you want to talk dirty to me about Constance’s shitty strand of pop-it beads, do it in the nude.”
“I’m no body beautiful.”
Veronica crinkled her nose. “I don’t care how crude you are. I like all kinds of naked. Just take off your clothes.”
“Will you let me catch you then?”
“That you’ll have to find out.”
Some little vixen.
Smooth as quicksand.
Griffith tore his jacket away. Kicked off his canvas slip-on deck shoes, allowing them to float to the surface. He shoved his wallet into one of the soggy floating shoes and snaggled off his pants and underpants over his legs.
As he peeled off his teeshirt, Veronica was on him, wrenching his unconstructed duck sports jacket around his neck.
Veronica swam strongly, pulling the material tight about Griffith’s head and neck.
His engorging dingdong broke the surface of the water. Veronica tittered when she saw the cockhead bob in the water from side to side.
When they had attained the side of the pool, Griffith ducked his head. Grabbed a handful of boob and a hank of pubic hair.
Veronica dipped beneath him.
Coiled about him and took his dick in her face as her legs choked his neck.
“Ngh.”
“Duck yourself, bub.”
Lance blew air out from his lungs. He sank to the bottom of the pool as Veronica extricated herself from his flesh and hopped up.
“Come on,” she hollered. “Or have you already had enough?”
“What game are you playing?”
Griffith pressed himself up partway out of the water with both arms.
Veronica let a palm drape over his forehead. Pushed down with all her weight.
Griffith again sank beneath the surface.
Sputtering, he clipped both hands about Veronica’s ankles, but lost the angle.
Veronica’s toes were in his eyes.
He bit out.
She kicked him playfully in the snout. Griffith reached his hand aloft. “How about you helping me out this time?” he said. “Make any sense?“
“I can handle it,” Veronica said offhandedly. “But first get your fucking clothes out of my lake. I don’t like the way they muck up my practice area.
Looks like seaweed.”
Griffith paddled about the pool. Gathered up his discarded clothing and piled them on the side.
Veronica’s tits swayed toward his face as she bent to help lift him from the water.
Her fingers squeaked along his skin.
Laughing, Veronica then released.her grip, and he slipped downward.
Griffith bobbed back up and rubbed his eyes.
And was thereupon blinded by the liquid slicing inside his eye folds.
“Na-na-na-na-na.”
The guzzling sound echoed in his ears. Fizzling noises drummed against his forehead. Griffith dodged left and right. “Yikes!”
Veronica followed him. Aiming her quim straight into his face.
Pestering his gaze with trickles of tinkle.
He pulled a smile.
His own rictus perpendicular to the crinkled grin of Veronica’s groin.
“Wheee!” Veronica chirruped. “Whiz-bang. I got you right in the teeth, you geek.”
Griffith’s jaws chattered.
His cock was abruptly hard.
Painfully erect in his grasp.
As he sizzled in the splash of liquid effervescing from Veronica’s gash.
His tongue slavered around the ups of his face. Face to face with Veronica’s sheared pubis as urine spumed from her lace.
He gargled her fresh piss as he stretched forth his neck. Buried his choppers into Veronica’s snatch, spewing and raw.
Griffith’s dentition tore into her labia like a saw. He worked his head from side to side.
Sucking in her succulence through her trimmed flocculence.
Tasting tartness of twat as the last traces of piss raced from her slit.
“So you like water sports,” Griffith gummed out into her grime.
Veronica shrugged.
“Stuff comes easy to me,” she said flatly. “I enjoy doing what I’m good at. How about you, Mister Private Dick? You like working over chicks in the line of business?”
“No. I’m not very good at it.”
“Then shut up, you old billygoat and work your chinny-chin-chin on my quimmy-quim-quim.”
Griffith chucked her thighs apart. Placed his hands athwart her haunch.
Launched tongue forward with liquid alacrity. Lashed labia with whip action.
“Not bad for a cad,” Veronica snorted. “Go ahead. Drive me mad.”
Griffith churned his chin upward.
Nipped into her clit.
Slowly, sucking in clam juice from Veronica’s cockleshell, he emerged from the drink. Veronica began to sink to her knees on the surface beside him. Legs glided aside.
She stretched back her neck.
Tits beckoned his fingers from her chest.