Professor Maurice Kershaw and his newly-installed mistress Bella were enjoying an evening aperitif on the balcony of his Madrid apartment. "Where would you like to go for supper tonight, my love?" he asked.

"Oh let's go to the cafe bar at The Ritz, shall we? I'll wear my new black pencil skirt and a semi-transparent black silk blouse if you like."

"With no bra?" the elderly man asked expectantly.

"But of course not, darling. One always gets better service when the waiters can ogle your titties!"

He refreshed her glass.

The unlikely lovers had been living together for a month, ever since the mysterious disappearance of the professor's wife, Ursula. He suspected that Bella had been involved in the episode in some way, but had been too timid to ask her exactly how it had been accomplished. A third Cuba Libre removed his inhibition.

"How did you arrange it?"

"Arrange what, my love?"

"Ursula's disappearance. On that naughty night we spent together in the Retiro."

The young woman uncrossed her slender legs and knocked back her cocktail. "It was easy. I just arranged for a couple of guys I'd met on the Madrid-to-Paris sleeper run to spirit her away. While you were fucking me in that boat on the lake."

"Spirit her away to where exactly?"

"Baku."

"Baku? Where in Heaven's name is Baku?"

"Come, come professor. What's happened to your geography? Baku is the capital of Azerbaijan. It's in the Caucasus."

"My Ursula is in the Caucasus?"

"That's right." Nonchalantly, she held out her empty coaster. Be an angel and freshen me up, then I'll go and get changed."

"And these men who you'd met on the train," he stuttered, "what line of work are they in, may I ask?"

"They're people smugglers. They specialise in sex workers."

The old man stood up, shaken by the news that his wife of 30 years had been kidnapped. "And what exactly is...is Ursula doing now in Baku?"

Bella shrugged. "Search me. I'd say they've probably sold her into a back street bordello. Azerbaijanis have a big kink about large ladies. And a white European would be quite a catch, believe you me."

Stunned by the revelation, Professor Kershaw sloped off to the apartment's kitchen to collect a fresh bottle of rum and some more colas. He returned and handed Bella her drink. "I feel utterly wretched about all this."

"Maurice: I've explained all this to you before, dearest. It was that or my reversing the wiring on your apartment's toaster. I think a living spit-roasted Ursula is preferable to a crisp-toasted dead one, don't you?" She accepted the fresh cocktail. "She's probably loving it. Big cocks at both ends all day. Anyway, isn't it time you ate your Bella's pussy again?" She pulled down the front of her panties provocatively. "You haven't been near it for more than two hours and it's lovely and wet. You know how you adore eating Bella's cunnie when it's sopping wet." The aged professor dutifully dropped to his knees and slid his face between her thighs. "Tongue me too," she encouraged.

                                                                             ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Largely because of Bella's provocative outfit, the maitre d'hotel had seated them on the edge of the dance floor, close to the pianist, who gave Maurice Kershaw a friendly nod of recognition. Many male eyes amongst the diners were focussed on Bella's glorious cleavage. As if responding to this silent admiration, she unfastened two more buttons so that the tops of her nipples were exposed. Un-phased, the waiter poured them their first glasses of Cava. "May I have a measure of Fundador added to mine?" the professor requested.

"Certainly, senor."

Bella clasped the old man's hand. "Now you go steady, darling," she whispered. "I certainly don't want you going limp on me later!"

After the brandy had been added to Kershaw's glass, he gave his inamorata a wicked smile. "Don't worry, there's no risk of that. I popped two of my little blue pills before we came out."

"Two! But Maurice - you know what the doctor said about your heart condition?"

"Stuff and nonsense!" The brandy cocktail was downed in two gulps.

Their ever-attentive waiter (lingering momentarily above Bella's glorious bosom) enquired: "May I get a refill for the senor?" Kershaw handed him the empty glass and nodded.

The couple's light supper of lobster salad was eagerly consumed, with the old man eating only with his fork, so that his other hand, concealed by the long tablecloth, could stroke his lover's thighs. At one point, mid-mouthful, Bella coughed violently, as a pulsating orgasm swept through her loins. "Oh Maurice, darling - that was wonderful!"

"The lobster thermidor or the orgasm?"

"Both!"

Once their raspberry souffle had been consumed, Maurice Kershaw enquired with a mischievous grin: "Fancy boating in the Buen Retiro tonight?"

"I thought you'd never ask!"

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Access to the city's huge municipal park was no problem for the talented Bella, who had quickly broken the code of the padlock securing the huge ornamental gates. They swung them closed behind them and walked hand-in-hand towards the boating lake. Tonight it was illuminated by a huge custard-yellow Harvest moon. They both stripped off on the landing stage and cautiously stepped down into a moored rowing boat. Eyes closed, a naked Bella lay languidly in the prow with her legs parted. Moonlight glistened on he slit.

Kershaw paused with his rowing and lifted the oars into the boat, letting it drift forward. He gazed up at the blanket of twinkling stars which seemed to enfold Madrid. One star - brighter even that the North Star - was not only shining intensely but appeared to be headed in their direction. Closer and closer it came. It hovered above the little boat, before slowly descending. Perched on Bella's left shoulder was a tiny fairy. It gently fluttered its delicate purple wings and smiled at the old man.

"Hi. I'm Pixie, Bella's astral sprite." Pixie was topless, with the tiniest of breasts and a minuscule pair of tinsel-covered silver panties. Her blonde tresses were worn as a chignon and around her slender neck was a triple pearl choker. Her blue-purple eyes were almost luminous. She took her silver-shafted fairy wand and stroked its tip along Bella's glistening quim. "Whenever my mistress gets up to something naughty, I usually come along for the ride. We've done all our naughtiest things together!"

"And how long has that been?" the curious professor enquired.

"Bella and me? Well over a hundred years."

At the sound of her name, Bella opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of Kershaw's huge erection. "Oh my, Maurice! Those naughty blue pills are obviously working!" The two women giggled.

Half-embarrassed, yet half-proud, he stroked his shaft. "Seems so,"

The boat had drifted to a stop in the middle of the lake. The moonlight was intense. "Fancy a threesome?" Pixie asked, looking at the professor's erect penis. "You, me and my lovely Bella? I think you need it!" She leaned across to brush her mistress's nipples with her wand.

Bella asked: "Who would you like to suck you to completion? Me or my naughty Pixie?"

Wild and wanton thoughts flashed through the timid professor's mind. An unbridled sexual threesome with his supernatural nymphomaniac mistress, or her rampantly sexual astral sprite, was taxing the old man's mind to the limits. He decided to hedge his bets. "Both of you!"

Bella and Pixie giggled in unison. "Good call, professor!"

Bella turned over in the prow of the boat and went on all fours, offering her inviting posterior to her aged lover. He cautiously crawled along the bottom of the rocking boat to take up a kneeling position behind her. Pixie thoughtfully parted her mistress's cheeks to reveal her lovely dark star. "In you go, professor," she whispered.

Liberally lubed by his own pre-cum, the old man was soon embedded deep inside. He felt a tingling sensation at his back quarters and realised that the fairy had slid the shaft of her wand into his rear end. Bella moaned with delight, while Pixie gave an infectious giggle, which echoed all around the lakeside.

The climax was epic. Bella dropped her arms and collapsed at the moment of Kershaw's orgasm - which was partially delivered inside her and concluded in a trio of lovely ropes of semen, splashed along her spine. Pixie fluttered round, landed on her mistress's back and eagerly licked up the creamy deposit, before kissing Bella full on the mouth.

Behind the two satiated women, the lifeless figure of Professor Maurice Kershaw was slumped in the bottom of the boat. The smile on his face indicated that he had died a happy man.

Having cautiously guided the boat back to the jetty, the two women disembarked. Bella consulted her diamond-encrusted 'tank' watch, which she had 'inherited' after Ursula Kershaw's disappearance. "Hey babes, guess what?"

"Tell me?"

"There's still 15 minutes to go before the Paris sleeper leaves. What say we make a dash for it?"

Pixie gazed in admiration at Bella's timepiece. "Hey, Bella - that's some watch! Whatever must it be worth?"

"When we get to Paris we'll go to Cartiers and find out!"

Hooting with laughter and hand-in-hand, the two women flew off in the direction of Madrid's Atocha Station.