Ursula Parkheart, P.I. : The Flexing Detective
by Forrest Curran 
The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon 
 
 
 
                                 
 

(c) WIG, LTD 1993 

 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
            Chapter One: Sighing Like Susan Sarandon 
 
 
Ursula had spent the morning in her office, behind the locked 
door with the frosted glass window that read: 
 
                        Ursula Parkheart,  
                     Private Investigations 
 
She hadn't made a sound since staggering into the small third- 
floor office at nine-thirty, a full hour and a half after I had 
let myself in and set the office up for the business of the day.  
Coffee was made, mail was read, and I had opened the two windows 
in her private office to air it out; the room got awfully stale 
and dingy-smelling in the heat, like a cheap bookstore on a rainy 
day.  A rainy day like today. 
It had been threatening to rain since early this morning, the 
grey clouds hovering over the city, waiting to explode in their 
own good time; and the sky had opened up and had begun a 
torrential downpour minutes before Ursula had arrived; having 
forgotten her umbrella, my bosslady had gotten soaked walking the 
half-block from where she had parked.  It was the sort of thing 
that seemed to be happening to her these days.  I knew her step 
as it came down the hall and had a cup of coffee at the ready for 
her when she came in, all damp hanging hair and downcast face; 
her long trenchcoat was dripping but she didn't seem to care, and 
she took the coffee and kept walking, slamming the inner door 
behind her, the glass-pane insert shaking as she did.  It re- 
opened a crack for just a moment, long enough for her to say, in 
a voice even huskier and, to me, sultrier than was usual for her, 
"I'm not in, JT.  If I get a call, take a message and tell 'em 
I'll call back...." 
These days there were few. 
 
It had been that way ever since the breakup.  She had been 
engaged to some guy I had never even met, but had heard alot 
about; all bad; but a guy she was crazy about, to be sure; even 
now, she was still carrying a torch and was trying to drown it 
out with Old Forrester.  It was starting to take it's toll on her 
appearance; she was skipping her daily workouts at Silver's 
Amazonia, a gym for, well, women like her... 
And that was a shame, too, because how many women as beautiful as 
my dark-haired boss could also boast of standing six foot three 
in her fishnet-stockinged feet, with a physique so muscular and 
big and hot and buxom and zoftig that...? 
Okay, so you get the picture.  I had a thing for my big bosslady. 
 
It was the oldest story in the world.  A secretary falling for 
the boss.  But with a twist. 
 
It was hard, back in the dark days of the closing years of the 
twentieth century, before muscular women became the norm as they 
are now; today, women have taken the bull by the horns; tired of 
years of abuse, of being afraid for their safety as they walked 
the streets at night and realizing their men could not always 
protect them; tired, too, of being patronized as being "just a 
gal"; they had all wised up; and biceps sprouted prodigously on 
women throughout the world as the millenia approached. Females en 
masse sprouted daring deltoids made thick and broad in the gym; 
it was only a matter of time before the world of haute couteur 
caught on, and musclefashion became prevalent; high, high heels 
showed off calves and strong bare thighs everywhere one turned; 
husbands did not like seeing their once-demure little wives strut 
about in micro-miniskirts and punishing spike-heels, displaying a 
whole new kind of attribute; the kind that flexed as well as 
jiggled.  They did not like knowing that their upper hand was now 
largely gone; their wives could equal them in strength.  There 
was a return to the days of "yes, ma'am" and "no, ma'am", from 
strangers; respect had become commonplace once again, and with 
many women, was simply mandatory.  And they did not like knowing, 
either, that many of these wives and girlfriends had found their 
freedom, sexual and otherwise; Women became strong and confident 
and powerful, and had elected one of their own as president in 
the last election.  Her picture would one day look down from the 
wall over my boss's desk. 
 
 
But all this did little to help me in the early years of the 
nineteen-ninties.  I was in head over heels in love with the 
abundantly muscular woman, whom I and I alone could call Sally; 
the woman I worked for, who kept me trotting back and forth not 
for kisses and pledges of love, but for files and phone calls. 
 
To her, I was just good old JT, always faithful and at the ready. 
 
"Coffee, JT" or "Fetch me some lunch from the Health Food Store, 
JT"; I made sure she knew I was available, should she ever want 
to turn her muscle-packed charms on her assistant; I tried more 
than once, as I sat on her desk taking a memo, to break that 
invisible barrier between employer and employee without risking 
the steady paycheck that had enabled me to pay off my college 
loans and get a small apartment not far from hers. I would 
mention a weekend spent quietly, or a dateless New Year's Eve; I 
was pretty sure she knew what I was trying to do, and she let me 
do it.  I think it amused her; and I'd get a pat on the head and 
a playful smack on the rump as I ran to fetch a file; that was 
all the feedback I ever got from the beautiful Ursula Parkheart. 
 
Before this downturn in her private and professional life, we had 
a great relationship, full of laughter in the occasional empty 
moments that happen every so often in all businesses; and full of 
efficent co-operation whenever she worked on a case.  Not 
infrequently, I would go with her on a job, serving as a sort of 
operative; my average looks and slightly diminutive height helped 
me avoid notice; something that was difficult for a muscular 
amazon like my boss. 
And so many a morning she would usher me into her inner office to 
take care of some bit of office minutiae; she would smile as I 
eyed her powerful limbs, thick and brown, veined and taunting, 
bared by a revealing tank-top stretched to bursting by her big 
breasts.  Robust calves flexed and unflexed as she would cross 
her long killer legs; and a smile would cross those exotic 
features that combined equatorial sensuality and european 
nobility so uniquely; she would smile quietly and shake her head 
as even now, after being with her all this time, I would sigh at 
a particularly huge flex of angry and engorged bare bicep; the 
equally massive triceps would meet it's challenge and bulge 
correspondingly.  I would watch the show, as the molten 
muscularity held me spellbound.  An erect nipple making itself 
visible on the perfect breast, through sheer cloth, was for me a 
cause for celebration; a slice of panty creeping out from under a 
short skirt was an epiphany.   
She would tease me about it; when I had first gone to work for 
her those massive flexings would befuddle me so profoundly I 
could not walk a straight line in her office; and I had, stunned 
at her sights, dropped countless cups of coffee in my first two 
weeks with her until she had had to go buy a whole new set of 
mugs, and I had received a polite but stern admonition that any 
more chipped crockery would come out of my salary. 
I wasn't aware of it, but when those thick arms would make their 
muscles dance and pulse, she was doing it on half on purpose, 
enjoying the effect it had on her new assistant; and she chuckled 
quietly when I walked into her office one morning to see her 
facing the window that overlooked that treeless drab street; she 
was humming aloud and pulling a haltertop over her broad and 
powerful torso, and a back, thick and broad and chiseled with 
muscle from waist to neck, exposed itself to me for just a 
second, until the curtain of cloth came down and called an end to 
her operatic muscleshow. 
"Oh, my...", I had whispered, another coffee cup teetering. I was 
unaware I was speaking at all.  
Ursula had loved that; an unguarded moment of pure adoration, 
lust and excitement inspired by her huge body in the heart of her 
new employee.  She had teased me later, on a Friday evening when 
she had taken me out for a drink---a reward to an employee for a 
hard week's work---that it reminded her of the jelly-kneed and 
breathy "Oh, my!" sigh Susan Sarandon had issued in the film 
"Bull Durham".  Whenever my longings for my MuscleBossLady got to 
intense, when I seemed to be hovering needlessly yet hopefully 
around her desk like a fly near sugar, she would flex the latest 
developments and mimic that cinematic shivering. 
And chastened, I would go back to my typewriter. 
 
I was hers, body and mind, heart and soul. 
And she found that endearing; but only in the way an adult might 
find the crush of a teenybopper; something to be tolerated, 
nothing more. 
She was out of my league. Or so I supposed. 
 
But she felt she was my friend notwithstanding my schoolboy 
crush, and as she so often would say at the end of a hectic day, 
"You keep things so neat and organized for me, JT.  Where would I 
be without you?..." 
That is, before that hot, hunkin' package of stacked female 
animal would saunter out for the evening, dressed in the shortest 
of off-the-shoulder miniskirts revealing a huge and rock-hard 
upper body, and leaving a trail of wicked perfume behind her that 
left me breathless and shaking as I took care of the last-minute 
office affairs of the day.  Running to the window, I would see 
the tall, broad-shouldered lady detective strut down the street 
to the stunned looks of passers-by. 
And I knew I was in love with my muscular bosslady.  Hopelessly. 
I loved the cool way she sauntered, rather than walked---her hips 
rolling like a panther-woman, predatory and dangerous; but too 
beautiful to turn away from; risking whatever fate might befall 
those who stare for too long.  In those days, lots of women who 
were gifted with superior genetics, who were tall and strong and 
muscular, were made to feel like outcasts in a world of much 
smaller women and hostile men; and would stoop low as though to 
deny their stature; and conceal ripe hot muscles in long sleeves, 
loose pants, and high-necked blouses.   
But not Ursula. 
She was proud of what she had; every inch of height a thing to 
enjoy; every thick bit of hard-won muscle showing in matter-of- 
fact, take-me-or-leave-me grandeur. 
And she would glide through life just this way; unafraid of her 
body's sexual power, and unconcerned with what the consequences 
might be; even for her assistant, who stood hovering with bated 
breath. 
She could take care of herself. 
And take care of herself she did.  She would be calm and in- 
control as she dispatched her own brand of justice; would have no 
problems bending the law if she felt it was in the cause of a 
greater good; and displayed the patience of a virgin saint as she 
staked out a miscreant; she would hold her pistol rock-steady in 
a muscle-thick arm; the barrel gleamed in the dim light, as she 
brought a felon to meet his fate under the law of the land. 
She was all woman.  A new kind of woman, definitely.  Commanding 
the ship of her own destiny, riding life like a horny pumped-up 
cowgirl showing up the boys as she tamed a wild bucking bronco; a 
heroine for her own time. She would one day be a legend, I was 
sure. 
And, as I said, I loved her like a Goddess. 
 
But then two things happened. 
First, her engagement broke off, and she was launched into a 
bitter and teary depression.  Then secondly, crime took a turn 
for the better.  Or in our case, for the worse.  The fewer 
crimes, the less work for Ursula Parkheart Investigations. 
Business had been slow, and combined with the heartbreak she 
seemed to be enduring, she had begun eschewing not just the gym 
but the health food store as well; boredom, maybe even despair 
had set in, and she had sent me out more than once to get her a 
lunch of Big Macs and fries. Her protein shakes were nowhere to 
be seen, replaced by the kind with a straw and a clown's face on 
the top.  In the last week, I had watched as her short skirts had 
gotten even tighter than they were designed to be; her stomach, 
while still flat, had begun to lose the chiseled muscularity on 
her abs, beginning to fade from view under the thin layer of flab 
that booze and fatburgers can create almost instantly on even the 
finest physiques.  It wasn't like I hadn't tried to be helpful 
either; I had tried to give her some encouragement wordlessly, 
and had gotten my hands on a photo only several years old, of 
Ursula as she stood on stage at the Ms. Amazonia contest; her 
huge, muscular body ripe and shining and brown in a white string 
bikini whose top was as always stretched to bursting by her 
magnificent breasts, her long black hair radiant and lustrous and 
loosely flowing down her back as she received the award for 
Heavyweight and Overall Winner.  I had it enlarged and put in her 
office, on the wall. 
She had ignored it.   
The next day, when I got in to set up the office, it was gone. 
 
Boy, it was hot in here.  And humid, too.  Even my desk had the 
clammy, damp feel that comes from mugginess like this. It had 
settled on the city firmly, and wasn't letting go.  Having a good 
deal of Latin blood gave Ursula a natural tolerance for heat, she 
explained to me; something she had accrued while she grew up in 
her native Cuba; the child of a Cuban woman and a visiting 
Englishman.  What were comfortable temperatures for her was 
broiling hot; oven-like for me; she would be elegant and dry even 
as I slid in a puddle of my own sweat... 
But she had refused my request for an air-conditioner all the 
same.  Easy for her.  She frequently traipsed around in next-to- 
nothing, to the delight and satisfaction of my active fantasy 
life; if only she knew what she and I were doing together, at 
night, in my dreams... 
I clawed at the back of my shirt, as it stuck to my skin in a wet 
pool of sweat and starched white cloth. 
 
The morning had passed quietly; there were no calls.  Only an 
order, from behind the frosted glass, around 11:30, to get her 
some ice.  I knew what that meant; and no sooner had I brought it 
into her, where she sat in her high-backed leather chair with 
those killer legs bared save for fishnet stockings and crossed 
under the short skirt as she stared out into the rain-whipped 
street, than she had grabbed it from me with thick muscular arms, 
and sent me out. 
But before leaving, I noticed her trenchcoat hanging, soaked and 
limp, on her rack; it had created another small puddle on the 
floor beneath it; Ursula didn't seem to care.  Shaking my head, I 
grabbed the coat and brought it into the bathroom, to shake it 
out; water had mixed with the dust on the old wood floor, and 
created a foul-smelling pool I had had to mop up. 
All the while, Ursula sat in her high-backed leather chair with 
her back to the door, staring out the window, a large tumbler of 
bourbon clinking in her hand. 
And, not knowing what to say to her, what comfort I could offer 
that she would accept, I went back to my desk. 
To pretend there was some work to do, I thought to myself as I 
sat down at my old, scratched oak desk.  The office, looking 
pretty much unchanged, I imagined, from it's heyday thirty years 
ago, had begun to seem particularly dingy; cobwebs of dust had 
begun to form around the corners of the high ceiling; the place 
needed paint.  The faded parquet wood floor needed sanding and 
varnish.  But I wasn't that ambitious.  I slid into the desk, to 
try my hand at the crossword puzzle, and it was then that I found 
a challenge; something to sink my teeth into...   
My rolling chair squeaked, and I decided that that would be as 
good a way as any to earn my pay for the day.  I grabbed my 
umbrella and went out to buy some oil. 
I rode the old slow freight elevator to the first floor lobby, 
and I wondered how I could put out a torch of my own; one whose 
existence was known only by it's diminutive holder. Me. 
I went out into the wet grey day. 
 
I had to pass the gym on the way back to the office, and slowed 
down as I went by.  Maybe one of Ursula's training partners could 
bring her out of this, challenge her...I stopped and my eyes 
searched the gym through it's rain-streaked front window as I 
stood on the sidewalk, and a very developed tank-topped blonde, 
thick deltoids bursting as she pressed a heavily weighted barbell 
over her head, paused in her exertions and blew me a kiss.  I 
watched her body answer the challenge made by the metal; as her 
reps accumulated, so did the size of those muscles; engorged and 
exploding, the small top growing tighter, tighter, as her upper 
body continued to swell; and after she finally put the barbell 
back in it's place I saw two drops of perspiration run down 
either huge delt, making long slow journeys from the chiseled 
peaks as they followed the muscular contours of her arms, flowing 
down the deep gorge where delt and triceps met, then following 
it's course, down the forearms.  
I smiled at her from under my umbrella, appreciative for the 
display, and kept walking. 
 
Timing is everything in life.  Be in the right place at the right 
time and you can save yourself a lot of footwork.  And I was.   
I waited at the red light, standing on one leg to avoid stepping 
in the steadily-growing puddle near the curb; the rain still 
showed no sign of slowing, and I was studying the building that 
held Ursula's office; it was aging, and beginning to show it; 
having been built just after the war.  It must have been fairly 
sharp back then, but smog and neglect had taken it's toll, and it 
looked run down even in this less-than-glamorous section of town. 
 
The parallel to the gorgeous hunk of woman inside it was a bit 
uncomfortable for me to ponder too long, and I shook the thought 
off; she'd come out of it sooner or later, I knew.   
Besides, I was always getting little lost in philosophical 
reflection, especially on rainy days... 
"...Hey, slim", the voice said again.  I turned and looked over 
my shoulder, and stepped into the puddle I had successfully 
avoided up to now. 
Officer Dell'Avitta stood in her raincoat and shook her head in 
amusement as I lifted the now-soaked foot from the deceptively- 
deep pool of warm rainwater. 
"Slick as always, slim", Maria said, as she wiped an accumulation 
of water from the brim of her hat.  I hopped up the curb, where 
she had been standing all the while, watching. 
She was tall and blonde and pretty in a regular-girl sort of way; 
nothing like the killer looks my boss had, whose high-cheekbones 
made her look like deposed royalty in a trenchoat.  Maria had a 
round and softly pretty face and a few extra pounds and a big 
bust she like to point at me. 
"Careful, Maria, those things might go off", I said, pointing at 
the huge breasts prominent even through the raincoat.  Maria 
laughed.  We had a good give-and-take going, due mostly to the 
fact that she was married and unable to do anything about the 
friendly sexual tension that had sprouted up between us.  It was 
something neither one of us had worked at; just a certain frisky 
familiarity that had grown from the everyday comings and goings 
that make up life.   
But more than once in our business dealings I was sure she had 
hiked her skirt up before coming into the office to see my boss; 
she knew I was a sucker for, among other things, a great pair of 
legs.  And she had them.  She looked at me from under the still- 
dripping visor of her standard-issue hat and let her eyes roam up 
and down for just a second, as though imagining what could be, if 
only... 
I let her. 
"Kinda hot for that coat, isn't it, Maria?", I said, nodding at 
the large and roomy yellow slicker. 
"Maybe so, slim.  That's why I'm not wearing anything underneath 
it but my birthday suit", she said, eyes dancing with the sheer 
enjoyment of flirting... 
"So how's things in the P.I. business, slim? Your big boss on any 
hot leads I oughta know about?" 
I told her the score with Ursula, professionally; I had been 
ordered to strictest confidence and complete silence about the 
break-up.  She listened sympathetically. 
"Rough business she's in, slim.  I heard rumors she was hitting 
the liquor store pretty heavy.  When a woman like her starts 
prowling around, word gets around the neighborhood. If I get any 
word-of-mouth, I'll call, okay?  You take care of her.  She's a 
lot of woman and she needs some looking after..." 
I nodded. 
"But what about you? How are you keeping yourself these days?", 
she asked now, as she shook the puddle from the top of her hat 
again and revealed her pinned-up neat blonde coiffeur. "No woman 
has captured your heart yet?  Or are you just waiting for me to 
dump my old man and sweep you off your size tens, huh?", she 
said, leaning into me and putting a hand around the small of my 
back playfully. 
I shrugged.  "I always figured you were too much woman for me, 
Maria", I said, jokingly.  
She put both hands on her hips and pivoted like a showgirl. 
"That goes without saying, slim." 
I nodded, and we were off to our lives again, in separate 
directions; but not before she blew me a tiny kiss with painted 
lips, and a wicked little wink. 
It was the second kiss I had gotten in the last ten minutes, 
albeit through the air.  But I had nothing to show for it. 
Just like with Ursula, I sighed. 
That would soon change. 
 
When I got back to the office a shock was waiting for me... 
Even down the hall, I heard the sounds of crashing coming from 
the office, and I assumed that my big boss had taken a drunken 
fall; I almost didn't want to go inside and see her in that 
state...But an assistant had to do that sort of thing, didn't he? 
I walked in and almost fainted. 
Ursula, my boss, the beautiful, muscle-packed woman for whom I 
had pined and daydreamed about, who I had spent lonely Saturday 
nights desiring as a far-away and unattainable treasure, was 
sprawled magnificently on my desk in nothing but a pair of 
fishnets and black spike-heels.  Naked. 
And absolutely glorious. 
And she had been drinking. 
Heavily. 
 
She had cleared off everything on the surface of the scratched 
brown desktop, every piece of paper, every scrap of 
correspondence and junk mail; even the phone; it lay on the floor 
at my feet, the receiver laying off the hook; deaf and mute. The 
floor had become a disaster area, and with the pure reflex that 
comes with being an assistant I reached down and put the phone 
back in it's cradle.  I would regret my diligence later. 
Ursula's eyes were half-closed with drink; she extended her thick 
commanding arm and bade me step closer with a finger.  I dropped 
the package on the floor, and remembered to close and lock the 
front door before I approached. 
A good assistant would have helped her.  He would have gotten her 
cleaned up, and put some hot black coffee into her.  He would 
have helped her into the shower... 
Which would have driven me just as crazy; water pouring off that 
powerful body... 
Even now, even here, in this state, I wanted her.  Her body was 
an architectural work of art; overwhelming even the big oak desk 
with her size; she had turned my workplace into a place upon 
which she would now take her pleasure; big, shapely; ample 
breasts, nipples prominent and erect; arms, shoulders, legs all 
sheathed in pounds and layers of female muscle, carved and 
striated and showing only the slightest signs of neglect.  The 
still-hard plain of her stomach beckoned me to worship and taste 
the hard terrain. 
Miles of naked female muscleflesh was there for me to enjoy--- 
lush and curved and vigorous; full of audacious delight.  I felt 
a small electric shock course through me as she parted her legs 
just a bit more; and thick pink vaginal lips became exposed, the 
clitoris swollen, ready to be pleased by the partner she had 
chosen. 
Her hair was flattened down on her head, it's owner not bothering 
to groom herself after getting caught in the downpour earlier.  
Her makeup had run, and she hadn't bothered to fix that either; 
small raccon-like rings encircled her eyes...She moved sensually, 
with a strange sort of slow animal grace, and sat up on the edge 
of the desk; a siren of desire, a predatory seducer of small guys 
who loved a babe with big bad biceps... 
I stepped, literally, into her arms, knowing I was doing wrong; I 
was like a medieval apprentice paid visit in the dead of night by 
a succubus who promised dark and dangerous rewards if only he 
would serve... 
I was prepared to do anything she wanted. 
Even after I got a whiff of ninety proof respiration. 
 
Her powerful arms, muscles prominent in awesome display, huge 
biceps almost throbbing in my eyes, slowly went round my waist.  
Her eyes were nearly obscured by the long hair as it hung 
shapelessly down over her face, and the regal features that had 
enabled her to sneak into many a high-rent affair while on a case 
with only a nod as though she owned the place now seemed almost 
vulgar; facial muscles had given up control to the Old Forrester. 
 
 
When someone as strong, as utterly commanding as my bosslady 
wants to get a kiss, she usually gets her way; especially when 
the kissee can't really offer any resistance, and wouldn't if he 
could. 
Her arms held me close, their thick power capturing me.  My mouth 
fell on hers, pulled in with a magnetic force, as though it would 
destined by physical law to rest upon hers, and let her hot moist 
tongue invade my mouth at last; now, after working for her for 
over a year and a half in lustful silence and reverent awe.  I 
tasted the whiskey she had been guzzling, but I didn't care.  My 
hands went to her broad shoulders, thick with layers of muscle, 
and rubbed them as they had wished to for so long, delighting in 
the size, the brazen appearance, the deep cuts and sculpted 
relief...   
Her hands began to unbutton my shirt, tossing my tie away to some 
dusty corner.  My conscience beckoned; I knew I shouldn't; not 
with her in this state.  It wasn't really fair to her, was it?  
But I let her anyway.  My need for her overcame even my sense of 
right and wrong... 
When the shirt did not give way to her immediately, she solved 
the problem in a more direct way. 
"Wanna see some skin", she slurred... 
She tore it off me, the cloth giving way in her powrful arms, the 
tattered shreds falling to my waist, held in place by the long 
shirttail tucked into my trousers.  I was barechested, and for a 
moment, just a bit self-conscious in the prescence of this 
statuesque magnificent drunk who was now kissing me so hard I 
thought my mouth would bruise.  Her hands went around my slim 
arms, and she pulled me back with her, as she lay back on the 
desk.  My feet lifted off the floor with a jump, and I could 
detect the musky scent of her damp vagina; my hand went to the 
breasts, holding them for just long enough for me to kiss them 
both, my tongue massaging the big nipples before going on to 
explore the rest of her masterful thick body.  Her hair had 
tumbled back over the edge of the desk and she gave me a 
smoldering look, as though I were someone else other than the 
faithful assistant who had up to now received only playful kisses 
on my forehead from this amazon... 
She began undoing my belt, unzipping my fly, pulling off the 
trousers...She yanked them off my body, and they fell into a heap 
around my knees as I knelt over her. 
Her fingers reached around my rear, the long fingernails lifting 
up the cloth-covered elastic and sliding in, under the tight 
band.  I was in the middle of burying my face in her neck, where 
I was kissing the soft flesh, tasting her hair as I did so.  The 
sharp fingernails scrathced my buttocks lightly; a moan went up 
from my throat. 
And she tore my briefs into pieces. 
"Good and naked", she grunted in a voice I did not know.  The 
shredded cloth fell limply onto my desk; and I was naked, just 
like the great pulsing slab of female omnipotence who was 
reaching for my penis with both long-nailed hands. 
Her preponderant breasts pointed up to me accusingly; thick 
nipples aimed at my heart...I did not notice it at the time, but 
there were no tan lines on this body.  None.  When she and her 
fiance had gone to the beach, they must have... 
"Walk around here looking cute", she said, as though I had been 
doing something wrong all the while I had worked for her.   
"Now you're gonna get it.  Ursula's gonna make you fuck for her, 
boy..." she said heavily through half-closed eyes, as if it were 
a threat... 
Dreams do come true, I realized, as she ran drunken hands up and 
down the length of my shaft.  My eyes went to hers, but rather 
than the deep royal orbs looking back at me in the way that had 
helped me fall for her in the first place, I saw two blue balls 
unfocused and vague, not seeing me at all.  She had no idea who 
she was talking to. 
Her powerful hand went to my behind, and she pulled me to her, 
guiding my penis to her waiting wet vagina with the other.  The 
head was swollen and throbbed with my rapid heartbeat; pre- 
ejaculate oozed.  I felt the heat of her loins as my penis 
hovered for just a second; my hands were unconsciouly running up 
and down the magnificent gladiatrix arms, enjoying, no, loving, 
the rise and fall as they ran across their contours. 
The head of my penis lay across the wet lips of her vagina, the 
lubrication flowing from both our organs now, preparing their 
owners for imtimacy and delight... 
I knew that Ursula had not changed her attitude towards me.  I 
knew that this was a desire that comes from a bottle; that rather 
than want to share the love I felt for her, Ursula only wanted to 
commit a sexual act---get laid; and let my semen try to do what 
the Old Forrester had not; extinguish the flame in her heart she 
could not douse herself. 
And then the phone rang. 
 
And I let it.... 
 
The head of my penis found itself surrounded by the warm wet 
walls of her pussy as it began it's descent into her depths. 
Her thick powerful arms moved down my body, the hands running to 
my bottom, where they each took hold of a small white buttock, 
and proceeded to pull me deeply inside her; my penis began to  
disappear within my bosslady's velvet pussy. 
I let out a cry that comes from the relief of an old, burning 
urge, satisfying my heart and soul as well as my loins.  She 
dictated a slow rhythm with her strong arms, pushing me into her 
and pulling me just as slowly out, only to repeat the whole 
ecstatic process. 
"Sally", I said in adoration, as a  whisper, using the nickname I 
alone had permission to use. 
The answering machine picked up the call now, and Ursula was not 
listening to it...Neither was I at first... 
 
"...it's really important, Ms. Parkheart.  I'm downstairs in the 
lobby.  I have cash and I'm ready to pay.  My daddy is Mr. Hugh 
Sternwood, the billionaire industrialist, and..." 
 
There were many sacrifices you have to make in life.  Some you 
don't mind making; like the sort you'd make for the welfare of 
your child.  Some you do mind making; like giving up tickets to 
the AFC championship game to take your girlfriend to an art 
exhibit.  Then there are the real killers. 
Like this one.  Ursula needed the work badly, and I had to get 
her attention... 
 
"Sally?",I said, trying to control my voice as it even now shook 
with pleasure, my big built bosslady's vagina massaging and 
squeezing my penis like a second mouth; my body not ready to give 
up the delights it was at long last knowing even as my mind knew 
it must...My hands eager to keep running their course along the 
muscular terrain of her elemental body... 
Even as they, too, knew they must... 
I sighed again, just like Susan Sarandon; a rush of air escaping 
as though released from someplace deep and secret within me, 
freed from captivity by the body of Ursula Parkheart. 
 
"Sally, it's a job..." 
 
 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723  
 
                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I. 
                      The Flexing Detective: 
                               in 
 
               The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon 
 
 
 
 
 
                          Chapter Two: 
 
                       Awed by A Hardbody  
 
 
I sat at my desk listening for the sound of a customer's 
footsteps.  It had been hard enough getting up from my desk, away 
from the arms I had dreamed of; it had been harder still to dress 
and clean up my office.  And it had been impossible to get Ursula 
Parkeart's gorgeous two hundred and thirty pound muscular frame 
up from my desk.  I feared the arrival of our client; I had asked 
her to give us just a moment while we dealt with another 
customer---a wholly imaginary one, of course. 
I corrected and groomed my own appearance in the mirror, and I 
was glad I kept that extra shirt in the drawer.  I tried once 
more time to rouse her from my desktop.  She lay magnificently 
muscular and naked, half asleep on the oaken surface, acres of 
bare she-hunk flesh beckoning.  I saw the breasts rise and fall 
with her breath; I wanted to touch them, and more... 
Instead, I grabbed a glass of water and threw it over her, the 
icy fluid crashing softly on her face. 
She shot up, spluttering, finally awake; her hair a mass of 
slickened tangles. 
"Darn it, Sally, there's a customer coming!", I urged her. "Go 
inside and get yourself cleaned up!" 
A dulled flash of recognition came across the sleepily erotic 
face and she found her feet, balanced precariously on her thick 
naked thighs, wobbling in spike-heeled shoes. I escorted her to 
her office door, holding the powerful forearm, trying to turn my 
eyes from her gorgeously naked body and succeeding only with 
heart-wrenching effort.  I gave her a small push across the 
doorway, and only then did I allow myself to watch two perfect 
round buttocks shimmy and shake out of sight as the door closed 
behind her.  I re-arranged my desk, establishing some kind of 
order, and I heard with relief the sound of the shower being 
turned on in the small bathroom off her office. 
 
A knock came at the door not one second after picking up the last 
dusty envelope from the floor. 
A blonde moppet walked in, chewing gum impatiently and looking 
like she couldn't wait to leave.  She turned her nose up at the 
plain surroundings of the office and looked annoyed that she had 
to spend any time in here at all. 
"Good afternoon", I said, trying my best to be friendly and 
professional while I listened to the shower head silenced, the 
leaking washer letting a small rain fade and echo for some 
seconds after.  
Hurry, Sally. 
The girl-woman and I listened to the larger rain outside as it 
slapped against the windows with small puddles. 
"You work here?", the blonde asked after settling herself down in 
the single chair used for the occasional backlog of waiting 
clients.  She wore a pair of red shorts, cut very high on her 
thin tan thighs, and a pair of matching red mules, their heels 
skyscraper-high. I wondered how she walked in them on such thin 
legs.  And how had she managed to stay dry?  
She rubbed the cloth of her white t-shirt on a diamond ring, 
perhaps to call my attention to it.  It was impressive; almost as 
big as the one Ursula had worn before her relationship had hit 
the skids, and her life had derailed; the big diamond she had 
been so proud to wear banished and vanished into a deep desk 
drawer. 
Other than that, this newest customer was forgettable looking; 
bland oval face full of too much makeup and a look that told of 
having seen too much and done too much that she couldn't talk 
about, in cover of night.  She was small-breasted and spoiled and 
pampered and tapping her foot impatiently. 
"Yes", I answered, "I do". 
"So what are you?", she asked in a high nasal voice through her 
bubble gum. "You a private eye?"  She looked at me as if I were a 
shop clerk who wouldn't take her credit card.  
"Ah, no, actually, I'm not.  I'm Ms. Parkheart's assistant." 
She broke into a delighted smile.  "Oh, you mean like, you're her 
secretary?  Cute.." she responded, finding the idea funny. 
I was about to tell her that I was an operativge, that I had been 
in a couple of potentially dangerous spots in service of 
Parkheart Investigations.  The words were forming in my mouth 
when Sally's door opened, and she walked out. 
 
She showed no signs of having been dead drunk less than ten 
minutes ago, and near passing out.  She wore a dark business 
suit, cut tight to her zoftig frame.  The only remarkable thing 
in Ursula's appearance, besides the staggering size of the woman, 
was that she wore no blouse underneath the low-cut jacket; 
cleavage spillled out abundantly, pounds of big soft succulent 
breast bared.  That was nothing new; and neither was the altered 
hemline of the otherwise conservative skirt; it was shortened to 
mid-thigh and showed off her wonderfully developed legs, their 
hard calves prominent.  I tried to force my eyes away from the 
sights my hands and mouth had feasted hungrily upon minutes ago. 
"Hello," she said, after just a moment's pause in the doorway 
before walking over to the superficial blonde, extending a hand.  
"I'm Ursula Parkheart.  How can I help you?" 
 
The blonde did not react at first to the extended hand.  She was 
in shock. Her mouth hung open, revealing the pink wad of gum she 
had been working as it lay upon her tongue. 
"Jesus Christ, you really are big,", she finally said, bluntly; 
awed; her cynicism shaken for just a moment.  She gave the hand a 
brief girlish shake.  Ursula pretended not to hear the comment.  
She sat back on my desk, and I saw that she had somehow done an 
expert make-up job in minutes.  Her hair was slicked back, wet 
and in a bun.  She smelled terrific and her chiseled features 
were alert and ready for the job.  She crossed her legs and 
folded her arms and started asking questions. 
"Coffee?", she asked, pointing at the ever-present pot in the 
corner; it's aroma was still strong three hours after having been 
brewed. 
"Yeah, sure", she answered, and Ursula gave me a casual nod.  The 
blonde seemed to enjoy seeing her give me an order and smiled as 
I poured the two women the strong black brew. 
"Excuse me for not inviting you into my private office", Ursula 
said as she sipped at the styrofoam cup's contents; "but it's a 
bit of a mess right now.  We were just seeing another client who 
gave us some trouble..." 
The blonde looked Ursual up and down.  "That looks like a pretty 
bad idea with somebody like you..." 
Ursula smiled a million-dollar smile that displayed perfectly 
dazzling teeth.  "Let's start from the beginning; what is your 
full name, miss?" 
 
My pencil was at the ready. 
Angela Sternwood told her tale. 
"The problem?" she asked after the legal questions had been 
covered.  "The problem is my sister is a friggin' moron, that's 
what the problem is...", she  said, as she fidgeted in her cheap 
vinyl seat.  This was a girl used to leather under her behind and 
she looked as though she was getting ready to make a complaint 
about the seat cushions when Ursula, all business now, leaned 
into her. 
"Please be specific, miss", she said, firmly, a trace of 
annoyance and, I thought, hangover, in her dusky voice.  Angela 
Sternwood got the message. 
After a moment of silence, she began. 
"My father is Hugh Sternwood, okay?  You know, the health food 
guy?" 
Ursula nodded, the slightest trace of strain on her face.  
Hangovers made it painful to move your head, didn't they? 
"Sure.  I use his supplements..." 
"Yeah?", the blonde said, as though surprised to find someone who 
actually used the stuff that had made her an heiress to a 
fortune.  She was, if her figure was any indication, of the 
binge-and-purge school of nutrition; bone thin, but with a tiny 
ring of flab around her midsection that her body refused to 
surrender to that dietetic torture. 
"Anyway, my mom's dead, and dad, well, he's not too sharp 
anymore.  He mighta sold the stuff but the only health food he 
ever took was eighty proof..." 
My eyes met Ursula's for just a second; they flashed with guilt. 
"So there's nobody to run things, right?", the girl said, rather 
than asked. 
Ursuala interrupted her.  "What about a conservator, a lawyer?" 
Angela shook her head.  "He don't believe in them.  Hates 
lawyers, says they run the government, like what's his name, Ross 
Perot, right?  He tried to get my friggin' sister to run things.  
That's when he got into trouble, boy...See, my sister, she likes 
money, but she don't know what the hell to do with it, you know, 
manage it?  I took some courses at the community college, but 
hell, the older sister gets the job, and we're all he's got.  So 
he sends my sister out into the field, like he called it, which 
meant she had to take some really shitty jobs in the outlet 
stores, learning the business.  She makes friends with this 
woman, Raye-Anne is her name; she managed an outlet store in 
Pennsylvania before she moved out here with my sister to make it 
in show business..." 
 
"Yeah, that's it, Raye-Anne Hallison.  Boy, what a bitch...", she 
said, handing the picture to Ursula, who studied it. 
It was an 8X10 glossy; the sort that actors and actresses have 
done all the time. 
"How so?", Ursula asked, glancing at my speeding pencil, a blur 
as I got everything on legal-sized paper. 
"She took over the friggin' business is what.  See, my sister 
likes to party, y'know? So she has a little too much to drink one 
night, and she loses control of the Beamer.  She hits this old 
lady.  She's hurt pretty bad, but the old broad, she pulls out.  
So Raye-Anne tells her that she can get wiped out, you know, in 
the law suit.  So she tells my idiot sister to write the business 
over to her; give her everything.  Well, jeez!", she exclaimed, 
"even I know that's the oldest one in the book.  But does my 
moron sister? No.  She signs the whole goddamn business over to 
Raye-Anne!", she said, her hands slapping down on her thighs in 
anger. "My sister goes on welfare and everything just to make it 
look good; tells the cops she was disinherited.  Dad goes along 
with it; at this point he'll go along with almost anything you 
tell him...", she said, unsentimental even at the thought of a 
dad insensate. 
"So", Ursula said, "when the suit was over, Raye-Anne didn't give 
anything back, right?" 
"Right", she said, in surprise, as though Ursula had figured out 
a bit of quantum physics. "She told my sister to go fuck herself.  
Says she has everything all nice and legal; notarized. Raye-Anne 
had the brains to see a lawyer, at least..." 
"Not much you can do about that, is there?", Ursula said. 
Angela Sternwood was not hearing what she wanted to hear.  "What 
do you mean, not much I can do?  That's why I came to see you." 
She twirled a flat and lifeless strand of hair on her finger 
nervously... 
"I can't change the law, miss.." 
"Who's askin' you to?  I want you to get the contract back, is 
all.  It's not like it was done fairly or anything, right?  And 
my dad will pay plenty..." 
My eyes went to Ursula, waiting for what she would say. 
"Where is it?" 
"In a safe.  In her house.  But only until Friday, that's when 
her lawyer is coming for it.  He's out of town for now, but on 
Friday he'll be back, that's for sure. You have to get it by 
then, 'cause after that everything's gonna be hers", she said, as 
though all it entailed was visiting this Raye-Anne and telling 
her to hand it over. 
"You just have to.." 
 
Ursula's well-manicured, long-fingernailed hand went to her chin. 
She had grown her naiIs long to please her fiance;  she ran one 
of them across her high, chiseled cheekbone. 
I knew that Ursula could crack any safe short of Fort Knox; I 
didn't know where she had picked up the skill, but I had seen her 
more than once approach a locked safe with nothing more than a 
stethoscope and her steady nerves and fingers... 
In light of her recent drinking, that already worried me... 
 
"So what you need is a little skilled muscle, right?", Ursula 
asked.  "You need someone who can get in, open the safe and get 
the papers and leave without being detected? And take care of 
herself in case she can't get out...? Sort of a 'two for the 
price of one' deal, right?" 
"Yeah, that too", the blonde said.  "This Raye-Anne lives alone.  
So it would be one-on-one if it came to that, I guess...Like you 
said, muscle's what I need.  Skilled, fast, muscle."  She looked 
my bosslady up and down. 
Ursula stood and turned away from the blonde and slid off her 
suit jacket, handing it to me to hold.  She then turned around 
again and presented a muscle-packed body to the blonde, with only 
a small black bra holding in the huge breasts.  They looked as 
though they were ready to explode through the sheer undercloth, 
as though they were angry at this imprisonment. 
Ursula hit a stage pose, and I was doubly pleased at the sight. 
Firstly, because any view of her flesh was hot-heaven for me; but 
also because it was the first time she had intentionally 
displayed any muscle since the break-up. 
Booze or not, my bosslady could still flex 'em; she was ripped 
and huge as the slabs of sinew re-appeared. 
My gorgeous hearthrob rippled with massive muscle commanded to 
life; I was proud to see her bring that force to bear again.  I 
looked at the heavily painted face of the blonde bimbo, and I was 
secretly proud of the startling body my bosslady displayed; 
thickly packed with muscle that made me delirious each time I saw 
it... 
"Holy shit", the blonde said.  "You're built almost as big as 
Raye-Anne..." 
Almost?  
 
"By the way", Ursula asked her, "how did you get my name?" 
Angela shrugged.  "I asked the cop across the street if she knew 
any private eyes, and she said you were right up here.  So, I 
came..." 
Maria.  We owed her one. 
 
"What we need", Ursula said, "is a diversion." 
"What kind of diversion?", the blonde asked. 
Ursula paced the room, still clad above the waist in only the 
tiny bra.   
"What about a guy? She lives alone, you said.  So she isn't 
married?" 
Angela's nose wrinkled.  "Raye-Anne? No way.  She goes through 
men like kleenex.  'Specially guys like him", she said, jerking 
her thumb at me as I sat at my desk; she did not even look at me. 
"Really?", Ursula said, her gaze going to me as though the very 
idea was strange.  "You sure about this, Ms. Sternwood?" 
Angela looked at me.  "Hey, buddy, stand up."  Ursula nodded to 
me to obey. 
She looked me up and down with a bored look.  "Yeah, just like 
him.  She likes them much smaller than she is.  And with no body 
hair, too. None.  Not even, you know, down there", she said, 
giggling just a bit and raising an eyebrow. "Reason I know this 
is 'cause she used to be friends with my sister, and she used to 
tell her alot of sexual stuff.  Every afternoon she's out by the 
community pool picking out her next conquest.  She likes guys in 
skimpy little swimsuits; says she likes to see skin..." 
I looked at Sally again; the words didn't ring a bell for her; 
words she had drunkenly said to me less than an hour ago.. 
"Lemme tell ya, Raye-Anne's one tough babe..." 
"Tough how?", Ursula asked. 
"She a lot of woman, like I said, she's built like you, maybe 
even taller", she said, trying to appraise her height by staring 
at the crown of Ursula's raven-maned head.  "She roughs guys up.  
You know, rough sex, they call it? That's Raye-Anne's idea of a 
good time.  Guys walk away happy, though, from what I hear...  
But the bottom line is, Ms. Parkheart, if you get the contract my 
daddy will pay you one hundred and fifty thousand dollars..." 
My eyes searched Ursula's stern composed features for some sign 
of reaction.  There was none; her eyes darted back and forth 
across the room; her thoughts were elsewhere; elsewhere being a 
place where she was surrounded by one hunded and fifty thousand 
dollars. 
"Uh, Sally?", I asked, trying to get her attention. 
"Hhmm?", she said, shaking herself out of her daydream. "What is 
it, JT?" 
"My evenings are free all week..." 
Ursula smiled knowingly at me.  "That, JT, is just what I was 
hoping you would say..." 
 
"...and you get twenty-five per cent of the job, JT.  But I can't 
force you to do this. It could be dangerous.." 
Angela had flitted out after leaving my boss a healthy retainer, 
and we sat talking the case over; my big bosslady still wearing 
only the bra to cover her big upper body.  She often would 
intentionally bounce ideas off me, (and sometimes, 
unintentionally, her breasts), but this was different.  She was 
stretched out on my desk, in a position not dissimilar to the one 
I had found her in before, as she drunkenly and langorously 
prepared to fuck her assistant shitless. 
 
She was oblivious to the wild stirring she was causing in me. I 
wasn't sure if Ursula had any recollection of what had happened 
on my desk an hour ago; I knew that I would never forget it; 
heck, I was only hoping for an encore.  But she was having 
blackouts lately.  She gave no sign that the interlude had ever 
happened.  My eyes roamed her vast physique as she talked; 
reliving the moments I had spent in her arms; she saw my 
wandering vision, and smiled.  She cupped my chin in her 
fingertips.  I swallowed hard; but it wasn't over the danger.  It 
was for Ursula. 
"Anything for you, Sally, you know that...", I said, my eyes 
bright and shining with hope.  She blew me a kiss and got up from 
the desk.  She wiggled her hips under her skintight skirt as she 
disappeared for just a moment, into her office. 
"I gotta go crash, JT. I feel like shit. Where have I been all 
day?", she said, shaking her head after she had reappeared.  
"Gotta give up the sauce... 
Tomorrow is gonna be a busy day.", she cautioned as she slid the 
jacket on her big broad shoulders.  I was sorry to see them 
disappear under the covering of the coat. 
"Mind the office for me, angel.  Close at four, okay?", she 
ordered, as she locked the gun into the drawer in her desk and 
pocketed the key. 
"Yes, sure, Sally.  Shall I forward your calls?" 
She thought for a moment, biting her lip.  
"Nah.  Tell 'em I'll call them tomorrow sometime."  She stood 
transformed before me, the prospect of work and a hefty payday 
changing her outlook.  She was steeping jauntily out of the 
office when she turned to me. 
"Oh, listen, JT.  Tomorrow we have to get you introduced to this 
Raye-Anne.  I'll pick you up the right swimsuit on the way home.  
I have a feeling that this Raye-Anne and I share some of the same 
tastes. But you better take care of all your body hair tonight.  
Raye-Anne likes them hairless, remember, JT ?" 
I nodded.   
"Sure you can handle it yourself?" 
An electric shock shot through me, fading as I saw her laugh. 
"Relax, JT, that wasn't a propsition.  It's just that I have the 
number of a good electrolysis girl..", she kidded. 
"..Oh, and JT?  For goodness sakes, pick up your underwear from 
the corner..Honestly; how did they get there? I thought we agreed 
you would not bring your laundry to the office...." 
The briefs, torn and tattered in a drunken moment by my bosslady, 
lay in rags in the corner, wedged between the wall and the filing 
cabinet. Ursula shook her head affectionately; unaware that she 
was the perpetrator of their destruction, and that the briefs had 
given their life for her drunken pleasure. 
And my pin-striped boss, Ursula, in whose arms I had reveled, 
whose depths I had ventured into with heaving chest and high 
hopes, disappeared; powerful calves vanishing round the door, 
power heels click-clacking into the distance of the hall. 
I finally had a chance to see the picture of this mystery woman. 
It was a head shot; she looked back at me from the glossy black- 
and-white print with eyes that twinkled mischeviously; a pert 
nose and even white teeth gave her a certain glamour, but she 
still retained something of the high-school tomboy athlete in her 
face; she was pretty, in a midwestern way, rather than exotic.  
Just as attractive as Ursula, I had to admit; but different. 
 
Sleep had been hard to come by that night.  Not only because of 
what had happened between Ursula and me, as we enjoyed a short 
lunch of each other's bodies on the hard oak desk.  Not only 
because she didn't seem to have any recollection of the incident 
ever happening.  And not only because of the fact that I had had 
to remove every bit of body hair earlier that night in the 
shower; my slender body had a strangely neutral look to it now; 
denuded of the body hair I had accepted as part of me for so 
long.  What was really bothering me was Sally's health.  If she 
was having blackouts and memory lapses, if she was that far into 
the booze, could she be relied upon to do the job?  What if she 
hit the booze tonight?  Failure on a case like this could get her 
arrested; ruin her career.  To say nothing of what might happen 
to me; Raye-Anne sounded like a frightening woman despite her 
all-american eight by ten.  But something within me looked 
forward to playing the operative, especially with someone as 
dangerous as her.  I had to admit, too, that I was looking 
forward just a bit to the games of flirtation I would be playing 
with the muscle-packed beauty... 
Hours passed as I tossed and turned, the sheets beneath me had a 
strange feel; smooth and silken.  Until I realized that that 
wasn't the sheets; that was me. 
In my dreams that night I finished my interlude with Ursula, 
grinding and giving and moaning; my hands like small birds taken 
in hers; ardent worshipful hands that ran over the relief of her 
sculpted body; whispering devotion; exploding into her powerful 
body with frantic urges and wishes to please; as she climaxed, 
she took me over completely, our thoughts intermingled, our souls 
one. 
 
Ursula stood before me bathed in the morning sunlight that 
spilled into the office.  Her eyes were clear, her face alert and 
cool and lovely.  Her hair was long and loose and perfectly done; 
there was no alcoholic trembling in her massive limbs. She wore a 
backless tank top that made me catch my breath as she walked in 
that morning; it was white and sheer and the broad muscles of her 
back waved at me as she had strutted into her office, after 
taking the cup of coffee I had ready for her the moment she 
walked in. Her shoulder blades had driven me made as they pumped 
under that hard-packed flesh. 
Her eyes ran up and down my body, as mine did hers.  She had her 
hands on her hips, the thick slabs of deltoid standing out on her 
torso.  Perfectly manicured long red fingernails absently 
scratched her arm; I wanted to do it for her.  Her legs were 
bared; small black velvet shorts cut high on her thigh showed the 
sculpted legs to full advantage; sheer black hose gave them an 
aura of mystery. 
"Hey, JT, you look adorable", Ursula said. 
She had deposited a package on my desk five minutes ago, and told 
me to go inside the bathroom and open it and try it on. 
The green trunks were brief, alright; even briefer than most of 
my underwear; I couldn't possibly wear this in public!  The tiny 
trunks barely had... 
...a back, does it?", Ursula said as she walked around me, 
surveying her assistant in the trunks she had bought for me 
yesterday, as she had promised.  Her hand ran lightly and briefly 
on my nearly-bare buttocks, scratching them lightly with her 
manicured fingernails; I shivered with pleasure... 
"I think old Raye-Anne is on to something, JT.  The clean-shaven 
look really does something for me...", she said, as she now ran a 
hand across my bare chest.  Her muscles rippled as she moved her 
arm. 
"Really, Sally?", I asked, my hand going tentatively to her 
braceleted wrist. I wanted to run my hand up that thickly muscled 
arm, feel the biceps, kiss them, be hers. "Do you mean it?"   
Hope springs eternal... 
"Yeah", she said, a touch wistful. "Steve kept his chest shaven", 
Ursula said, as though conjuring a painful memory.  Her focus 
seemed to leave her.   
Him again. 
"Your ex-fiance", I said, not needing to ask. 
"Sometimes he let me do it for him", she added wistully, staring 
at my thin hairless chest. 
A nasal voice shot through the glass partition. 
"Hey", it whined, "do I have to stay out here all morning?" 
 
We drove out of town, taking Ursula's business car; a rather 
nondescript two-door white Buick. It didn't compare to Sally's 
other car; a candy-apple red Corvette; but ostentatiousness in a 
car was a problem in this business, and so we had poured 
ourselves into the battered old tank.  Angela had wanted us to 
take her car; a black Supra shining in the morning sun.  She 
didn't understand why bringing a car that Raye-Anne could easily 
recognize was not a good idea. Sally shook her head and whispered 
to me, "Coulda been a brain surgeon, huh?"  Her sweet breath 
tickled my ear. 
Sally had told me to sit in back; Angela had wolf-whistled with 
glossy pink lips as I bent low to squeeze into the rear seat as I 
had gotten in. The terrycloth jacket gave my mostly-bared rear 
little protection from her prying eyes.  For just a moment, I 
knew how well-developed women must feel at the beach. 
In the rear-view mirror I saw Ursula's eyes peering at me as I 
sat alone in the back seat amidst out-of-date newspapers and 
miscellany; boy, her big wide shoulders looked great in that 
sleeveless white blouse cut high; baring a good deal of her 
deliciously steep trapezius... 
Angela went into a non-stop monologue of idiotic prattle that 
only served to set my nerves on edge; I was already nervous, and 
as I returned Sally's glances, I saw that she was too. 
Her hands seemed to shake ever so slightly on the wheel. 
Forget him, I thought, trying to send the thought to my 
MuscleBossLady. I felt a long drop of nervous sweat run down from 
my armpit. 
 
 
                         Chapter Three: 
 
                   A Hurricane Named Raye-Raye 
 
The housing development wasn't very fancy; rows of attached 
townhouses one after the other.  The few trees were small; as 
though kept in their shrunken state by a too-harsh sun.  It was 
evidence that the whole thing had been no more than a drawing on 
some architext's blueprint less than five years ago.  It looked 
older.  Ultraviolet beat down relentlessly as noon approached; I 
wasn't sure if it was the heat of the coming midday hour that was 
making me sweat, or nervousness... 
Angela lowered the binoculars from her eyes, still squinting into 
the distance.  She turned to Ursula, who was sitting next to her 
and reaching for them herself... 
"It's her alright." 
Ursula studied the image the glasses were presenting her; for 
just a second I felt as though I was on safari.  The difference, 
I realized, was that I was the goat that was being tied to the 
tree. 
"We better not get any closer", Ursula said, turning to appraise 
me.  She didn't know it, but I was doing the same thing to her.  
I wasn't sure what had made me volunteer for this job.  The 
better part of me wanted to help my hot hunk of a LadyBoss.  She 
needed the work, she needed the money; hell, so did I... 
Another part of me, a part that I would never admit to her,  
wanted to meet a woman like Raye-Anne; if she's all Angela said 
she was, maybe my boss will get jealous... 
I got out of the car and stood by the driver's door, as the 
ladies gave me a last-second inspection. 
Ursula slid on a pair of sleek dark sunglasses and regarded me 
from over their rim. 
"Well, JT, this is it.  Be available and be friendly.  And get 
yourself a date...", she encouraged, winking. She couldn't 
possibly have any idea how hot she looked.  I felt an erection 
begin to grow in the tight confines of the brief outfit. 
"Don't worry", Angela said as she leered at the small swimsuit 
and cracked her gum.  
"He's just what Raye-Anne loves..." 
Ursula let her thick arm hang over the side of the door.  She 
seemed to be repressing a grin. In the distance, I could hear the 
splash of a body hitting the water, seeking relief from the heat; 
Laughter followed, faint and high.  My chest was pounding with 
fear and anticipation. 
She jerked a thumb in the direction of the pool.  As she did, 
that big bad baseball of a bicep flexed to life, daring the 
triceps to meet the challenge.  It did; and I watched with 
dinner-plate eyes... 
I was still watching it as she said, "Get going, JT. Time to earn 
some big-time dough..." 
 
There weren't many people at the pool.  After all, it was a 
weekday afternoon, and even in the oppressive heat of the day, 
most people had other things to do.  Like stay indoors where it's 
safe and comfort-cooled, I thought as I walked along the path 
that led to the pool. Even here the place has a slightly run-down 
look, despite the fact that it was only recently built.  Designed 
to be obsolete, I thought to myself, shaking my head... 
As I approached the gate, I saw a mother run after a toddler, who 
was preparing to dive in to the inviting blue mirror of water; 
she caught him just in time as he had taken the first step out 
from the ledge, where he would have fallen two fathoms to the 
bottom.  She had the look a mother often has, as she hustled him 
back to their seats, when she pulls a child from danger; she 
didn't know whether to smack him or kiss him, and wore a smile 
that reflected those conflicting emotions.  She wore a rather 
conservative bikini; but her figure was still sharp for a mom, 
with a nice pair of breasts and hips.  She looked up to me as she 
stood bent over the babe; we exchanged polite grins.  I couldn't 
help but feel her eyes on me as I walked past her; the sun was 
shining on a portion of my anatomy that it seldom had before, 
except for the time Ursula had sent me undercover to the nudist 
colony; and that was a story for another time... 
I looked over my shoulder, back at her.  She was still 
smiling...I nearly gave a little Elvis-like gyration with my hips 
to make her day; but I decided I had better save it up for... 
Raye-Anne. 
She was stretched out on a lounge at the far end of the pool; 
secluded; even from here I could she that she was a big woman.  I 
felt my breath come short and fast in my chest; my blood flowed 
through my ears, giving everything a tinny sound as I walked 
towards her. Her awesome size set off an internal alarm in my 
head; danger was near. A strong hot sun beat down, and the beach 
bag I held in my hands seemed suddenly heavy.  My hands were 
damp; the plastic seemed to be trying to slip from my grasp.  I 
got closer to the far end of the pool and for some strange reason 
I remembered at that moment that I'd forgotten to bring any 
sunscreen. Sweat ran down from my armpits; anti-perspirant 
failing. 
My god, she was huge... 
I almost stopped dead in my tracks, but my training as an 
operative kept me moving even when my mind had halted.  I passed 
her by and chose a chaise lounge right next to hers. 
And feasted my eyes on the most gorgeous, muscle-packed, stuttin' 
and flexin' hardbody in a string bikini that I had ever seen.  My 
chest heaved as I tried not to stare; I laid out my blanket on 
the vinyl mattress that smelled of mildew and stale sunlotion, 
and took off the terrycloth robe that my Bosslady had bought me 
yesterday.  I felt her eyes go to my pale white flesh as it now 
laid bare save for the tiny speedo; flesh that I was usually so 
careful to shield from the sun; and I got a chill up my spine 
even in the ninety-three degree heat... 
I remembered when all hurricanes used to be named after women; 
that had been changed to reflect the more enlightened times; but 
the woman whose eyes bored down upon me was like a powerful 
hurricane that had caught me in it's almighty winds... 
 
"Catch her eye", Sally had told me.  I swallowed hard and looked 
over my shoulder. 
Raye-Anne was staring right at me. She was enormous; thick arms 
and barn-door shoulders, and big breasts and legs carved from oak  
the epitome of a steaming hot lady bodybuilder.  Her thick-as-my- 
thigh arms were behind her head in casual repose, hands cupping 
her head of straight and shining blonde hair; the pose 
accentuated the wide perfect lats, and my hands trembled.  Her 
body mocked the tiny dental floss white bikini; it was a tiny 
designer thing with lots of buckles and straps and very little 
cloth; her big breasts were covered only barely; luscious 
cleavage spilled out before my eyes.  This was a woman who didn't 
dress in a lot of clothes, and why should she? Muscle was all the 
covering she needed.  Naked and gorgous in the hot sun, sweat 
dripping...That's how she should be... 
Her stomach was chiseled and rock-hard; tough and flat and 
unforgiving enough to crack open a coconut.  I wanted to do just 
that, and eat the sweetmeat off those abs with just my tongue; 
and after, lick the sticky juice from the flesh as it... 
My back straightened visibly as my mind cleared and I reminded 
myself that I was on a job.  I wasn't here to daydream or develop 
a musclecrush on a stacked and steaming hunk of female; I was 
there to work. 
But she wasn't. 
"Hi, there", she said, in a voice that was surprisingly light and 
feminine for a woman so huge; not the booming bass I would have 
expected.  She spoke without moving an inch of that incredible 
body. 
I cleared my throat twice before I could talk. 
"Hi", I said, half-choking, before turning away, blushing 
mightily.  Another erection began to sprout; in this ridiculous 
outfit it showed quickly.  I walked over the edge of the pool and 
dove in, seeking a quick remedy to the uh, growing problem... 
 
When your system gets a shock, sometimes it takes a few seconds 
for it to register.  Like now.  I had tried to make my most 
graceful and athletic dive; a feeble attempt at best for me.  I 
then thought I could impress her with how long I could swim 
underwater, the way a teenage boy might do.   
Suddenly, my head was pounding, my skin was screaming, my arms 
began to refuse to take orders; I had dived into a pool of 
icewater and was submerged in it's domain.  I turned back and  
scrambled to the edge, my brain disoriented, confused, on 
instinct alone, bloodless arms struggling to find the edge; and I 
tried to crawl out, dripping, glad for once that the day was so 
hot as the sun hit my skin; I lay shivering on the concrete, 
feeling as though my internal organs had been perma-frosted... 
 
"They just filled the pool up again fresh this morning," came the 
muscial voice from the pumped body, hard and gleaming in the sun, 
as it soaked up it's solar power. "I coulda told you that the 
water was too cold." 
I looked up to her.  "W..why d-didn't you tell me?", I asked, 
teeth chattering. 
She looked at me as though I was from Mars. 
"You didn't ask, that's why", she answered, sighing and 
repositioning herself of the lounge.  She shook her head as 
though to say, "Deliver me from the questions of skinny blue- 
lipped morons..." 
 
I staggered on bloodless legs to the chaise lounge.  For just a 
moment, all my attention left the supersized Goddess next to me; 
all I wanted to do was get dry and get warm.  I stood with a 
towel in my hands, still dripping, drying my hair.  My skin was 
beginning to warm, the feeling returning as the blood that had 
raced to protect my internal organs from the glacial spring 
passing itself off as a pool now returned to feed the flesh; my 
own natural pale skin tone was returning.  A residual shiver 
issued up from me and I began to feel the sun's restorative 
powers go to work; chasing away the shivers. 
"Awwww", came her voice full of disappointment from five feet 
away.  I had been standing in profile to her, and as I glanced 
over, I saw her gaze on my crotch. 
"The icebath made your hot little hard-on go away", she said with 
a pout that was strangely incongruent for such a primal, muscle- 
packed woman. 
I stuttered an apology; but I didn't get far... 
"Don't apologize", she said, sitting up.  "A cute little guy 
wiggles by in a tiny little speedo with his butt cheeks all pink 
and pretty and bare for me to see; what more do I need?", she 
asked in a soothing, sensual tone. 
I shrugged, embarassed.  I was holding the towel in front of my 
crotch. 
"Then he gets so excited being around a big, pulsin' slab of 
gorgeous muscle girl like me that his cock starts saluting.  
That's really quite a nice compliment..." 
She was talkiing as though I had just sent her flowers and candy 
instead of dreaming of doing things with her that made a lifetime 
of memory and you only repented on a deathbed... 
"It's too bad", she said, as she slowly moved up on the lounge 
and sat over it's edge.  The thick muscles of her arms went to 
work, pulsing and throbbing as she put her hands on either side 
of her and pushed down; the effect was to make the subcutaneous 
sinews ripple.  I watched them exhibit their strength, moving and 
flexing as though they were living entities she kept packaged 
underneath her darkly tan skin, waiting for a chance to go to 
work for their mistress. I thought that it would take both my 
hands, together, to encircle one of her massive upper arms.  An 
angry muscle stared me down. 
I sat on my own lounge, facing her, our knees touching.  It was 
the first contact my flesh would have with her...My legs, long an 
object of compliments from the ladies I had dated, looked frail 
and spindly next to her dark and powerful thighs. 
"Yeah", she said, nodding as she leaned into me, the big breasts 
straining the skanty top, the scent of cocoa butter reaching me.  
Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and spilled across the chest.  
I noticed the deep vertical muscular crevice running down her 
chest, dividing that big hot torso into two equally hard and 
gorgeous hemispheres.  "It's really too bad." 
She saw the questioning look on my face.  What was too bad? 
"Cause seein' that cute little package sproutin' in your little 
bikini briefs made me want to do something very bad...", she said 
with a playful leer; I was watching her stomach muscles pulse as 
she talked.  My pulse raced and my chest heaved; my heart was 
doing a marathon in a sprint. 
"What was that?", I asked, lowering my voice conspiratorally, 
expecting a flirtatious give-and-take session that danced lightly 
on the topic and retreated nimbly when the heat went too high. 
She laughed.  "'What was that'"?, she repeated my words, mimicing 
the coy tone in my voice.  She tossed back her hair with a casual 
sweep of a hand, and brought her face to within inches of mine, 
smiling with small and even white teeth. Careful to lean into me 
just right, so as to cause every muscle to lock in a heaving 
flex, she spoke in a voice that was matter-of-fact and hard and 
bereft of the girlish tones she had used up to now. 
"I wanted to take you home and fuck the shit out of you, that's 
what..." 
In the movies, when the wolf insults the object of the pursuit 
with a raffish comment, the wolf would get slapped and watch 
chagrined as the object huffed and hustled away; the wolf would 
raise a hand to the handmarks rapidly reddening and smile and 
enjoy the sight of the wiggling behind as it disappeared around 
the corner; knowing victory would come all the same. 
That being the case, why move at all?  Being a guy, too, my basic 
reaction was different.  The line she had hit me with, no; slain 
me with just now; looking hard into my soul as she bit off the 
words with a deliberate take-it-or-leave-it tone had struck a 
buried primal cord within me. My heart was now thumping loudly in 
my head, and I thought I could taste blood in my mouth.  I could; 
I had bitten my tongue in the electric shock of desire that the 
words and the sights of this Amazon She-Devil had given me. 
She didn't move a muscle, literally.  She was motionless, so 
close that her breath wafted down upon me; it was sweet and 
smelled of vanilla.  She was waiting for some reaction. 
My guard went down; knocked down by this slab of female in a 
bikini made of nothing more than tiny straps and shiny buckles. 
I tried to be nonchalant; hold on to some degree of manly cool, 
even if this woman was twice my size; but there was just no way I 
could...Not as my eyes and my soul ate up the hard mountainous 
terrain of her body... 
 
"Ohhhh", I said as the breath rushed out of my lungs.  I guess 
what I was doing was swooning; for I lost my balance and almost 
teetered over into her arms.  I wish I had... 
"See what happens when you dive into water that's too cold?", she 
said soothingly as she leaned back on the lounge, chiseled abs 
flexing.  "You look faint.  I hope it's nothing I've said", she 
said, innocently, her blue-blue eyes dancing mischeviously, 
sparkling; the sweet girlish lady-like tone suddenly returning 
now.  The only parts of our bodies that had touched, even now, 
were our knees.  For a second, my mind flashed irrationally on 
the villanous creature in one of the Star Trek movies; they had 
their sexual organs right on their kneecaps and I realized that 
if we were from Alpha Centauri VI I might be having an orgasm 
right now... 
All things being equal, I almost was.  My erection had sprung 
back into life; warm blood refilling the cold tissues of my 
loins.  Her eyes went right to it, licking her lips. 
"Now that's what I like to see", she said encouragingly.  "A nice 
hard little cock that knows what it likes..."  She flexed the 
huge slab of muscle that was her arm; a bowling ball came to life 
under the tan female flesh; veins just beneath the skin pumped 
blood to feed it and give it life.  I wanted to touch it. 
 
God, her waist was tiny!  I thought I could almost fit my hands 
around it, if she invited me to try.  The tiny strip of her 
bikini bottoms barely covered her genitals; she must have had a 
session with a razor last night, too.  I wish I had been there.  
Even without those wonderful muscles that years of hard 
irontraining had added to her body, she would have been perfect.  
She was proportioned in the absolutely classic lines of 
mythological heroines... 
My erection raged. I instinctively covered it; not so much out of 
embarassment as a subconcious desire to protect it in the company 
of this sexual steamroller.  I held the towel in front of me. 
Her brow knit; she frowned. 
"Hey! What the fuck do you think you're doin', bikini boy?  Move 
that damn thing away...", she said in a voice mixed with anger 
and disappointment.  And a lot of muscle. I did. 
"Good.  I like to keep my eyes on the, uh, developments, y'know?  
Keep it where I can see it, okay?"  Even through the tight 
constraints of the briefs, my penis pulsed in time with my rapid 
heartbeat, as though a second heart was beating, throbbing in my 
loins.  For her, it was... 
Her eyes scoured me like laser beams once again.  She got up.  
"One thing's for sure, you're no beach boy, are you?  You're 
gettin' red as a beet..." 
I looked down.  She was right; my pale flesh was burning quickly 
in the powerful sunlight... 
But as I looked up... Geez. 
She was six-six if she was a foot; a mountain of a woman full of 
dangerous curves and muscle that looked ready to bury an 
unsuspecting climber in an avalanche.  Angela didn't say anything 
about that; up to now I thought my Bosslady was the biggest woman 
I would ever know.  But even her amazing body took a second place 
to this gladiatrix.  I tried not to swoon again as her long 
shadow fell over me. 
She instructed me to lay down on the lounge on my back, and she 
began applying the thick white sunblock with the rough 
familiarity of a drunken, lusty bride.  She didn't speak as she 
did, rough female hands taking rude advantages; and she seemed to 
be mentally measuring my body as she went about the task; 
surveying my own rather diminutive form that I tried to keep firm 
in the little spare time Ursula gave me... 
She had covered my body thoroughly, running hands over my slender 
arms as though she was handling a child.  She had coated me with 
the protectant now, except for my lower abdomen---the area of 
flesh that was seeing sun for the first time.  
She had saved that for last.   
There was nothing shy about this woman; that much was obvious to 
even the most obtuse reader by now.  By I didn't expect what she 
did now... 
She sat down on the lounge, lowering herself onto my lower 
thighs, and reached down to the waistband of the small trunks, 
what there was of it.  She pulled it back several inches from my 
skin, and with the other hand, whose palm was full of a small 
hill of the thick cream, ventured under the suit, down much 
further than she needed to go, boldly exploring my genitals.    
Genitals that by now, were straining; the penis was throbbing, 
testicles tight against the body in expectation of eruption.  Her 
self-assured gesture revealed my not-so-subtle secret; one meant 
for her to discover.  As her hand took note of the bare clean- 
shaven skin of my groin, a smile lit up; a strange smile, half- 
lascivious, half-delighted; as though she had just been 
complimented on her body, or been done a favor she hadn't 
expected.  She didn't hurry as her hands explored either; her 
fingers played with my testicles while she looked me hard in the 
eye. The hand made a moving lump in the swimsuit as it migrated 
it's way along my privates.  She ran three fingers along the 
shaft of my penis; let her long nails lightly scratch the pulsing 
flesh.  I remembered to look around, and saw that only the mother 
and the toddler were at the pool now, far away at the other end.  
I had forgotten by now that I was working at all... 
She knew when to ease off; I was near explosion and almost wanted 
the musclegirl to take me, use me and humiliate me under all her 
dominant powerful bulk she wore so coolly, to finish me off right 
then and there; but that wasn't in her plans. 
I looked up to her, awaiting orders.  I would have done anything 
to... 
She got up.  "Okay, turn over..." 
With my erection raging, that was difficult! But I obeyed her, of 
course... 
She ran her lotioned hands quickly over my body.  She paid 
special attention to the buttocks that were mostly bared by the 
scanty back of the green speedo, and spent much more time on them 
than she needed as she slathered them thickly white with 
suncream.  She finally acknowledged this. 
"Hey, man, I'm an ass girl--what can I say?", she asked, as she 
cupped them in her slippery hands, playing with the flesh.  She 
seemed to have stopped, and I was about to turn over, when a 
shock went through the two basted buttocks, down the legs, out 
through the feet... 
She had smacked my left cheek with considerable force, the sound 
of flesh cracking against flesh filling the air.  My hand went to 
the injured area at once; her hand had left a perfect impression 
on the white-painted buttock.  I shot her a glance, trying to 
keep the anger out of my expression.  I had no wish to tangle 
with her, and I couldn't afford to make her mad.  I remembered 
that I still had to get a date tonight... 
"No offense, bikini boy", she said after she had nonchalantly 
sauntered over to her loungs and folded that great and vast body 
back down in repose. The sight of her own rear, bared by her 
insignificant swimsuit, caused air to rush out of my lungs again. 
Her rear was comprised of two perfect, iron-trained buttocks that 
jiggled not at all... 
She adjusted the handrests so that the back of the lounge raised 
up; she was sitting comfortably, shifting that massive body so 
that she'd be just right... 
"I just like smackin' a cute little ass now and then...Makes me 
feel good..." 
She ignored me for a while now, slipping on a pair of dark 
sungalasses and offering her face to the sun.  So what if my 
erection raged so badly I was nearly doubled over in pain?  She 
had had her fun.  That was all she cared about.  And that was 
okay with me. 
I don't think I took my eyes off that heaving flesh once. 
Thick and deep and chiseled muscle was at rest on the amazing 
frame of this beautiful woman.  I watched her breath rise and 
fall.  I felt used. I felt cheap.  But I loved it. 
 
I didn't hear her get up.  My eyes were closed, trying to think 
up some way of getting a date with this cool and vast sexual 
predator of a woman while pretending to be sunbathing.  Suddenly 
a splash sounded over the water, and I looked up. 
Her lounge was empty.  Oh, God, had I fallen asleep?  Ursula 
would be so disappointed.... 
 
I got up and visually searched the grounds; only the mom and her 
kid were present, as before, far away down the olympic-sized 
pool.  I thought I was alone until I heard water moving in the 
pool, and small even splashes. 
Raye-Anne had dived into the arctic water and was swimming the 
length of the pool with the practiced ease and speed of an 
Olympic champion.  Her wet hair was plastered flat to her head, 
and thick muscular arms acted as propellant for the hard perfect 
body; she stroked an expert freestyle stroke faster than I could 
walk.  The bare flesh of her ass reflected the sun, covered as it 
was in a watery film.  I thought the seat of my trunks was brief; 
if it was, her's was nonexistent; just a string between the round 
muscle-trained buttocks. 
She touched the far wall and vanished under the water.  I didn't 
see her for nearly half a minute, before she re-emerged mere feet 
from the edge where I had wandered as I watched her perform.  
When I was a kid, I was struck by the image of a creature rising 
out of the depths, unexpectedly; like a creature in a Japanese 
movie coming to wreak havoc on land-dwellers...But the beautiful 
woman who climbed out of the blue water erased the thought as 
soom as it had formed. 
The swim had forced the blood to her limbs, and as it rushed to 
her muscles, running water cascading back down to the blue mirror 
benath.  The exercise had given the effect of inflating her 
sinewy architecture even more; she seemed to have been carved 
from oak with chisel and hammer, such was the definition of the 
Amazon Goddess.  She seemed to breathe only slightly, as though 
the exercise was something that did not offer any real challenge 
to her cardiovascular system. 
She had climnbed out and stood dripping wet, sweeping the 
gorgeous mane of hair behind her, squeezing the excess water from 
it with a familiar ease. 
I had anticipated her desires just a split-second earlier and 
intercepted her in her path, and reached the plush thick 
terrycloth towel first.  I turned and felt the cold water 
dripping off her body onto mine. I offered her the towel, but she 
made her wishes clear without a word; just a look; like some sort 
of mental shorthand that we had established. 
I toweled off the brawny woman with ardor, letting the thirsty 
cloth drink the dampness from this creature who had maddened me 
with desire.  Stay in control, I urged myself, for Ursula. 
I had another pounding erection. 
And I noticed only then how strange it was---that water was so 
cold it was almost an iceberg; barely liquid.  But her flesh was 
warm; I noticed it in the brief moment or two that my skin might 
touch hers as I toweled her down. 
That icy-cold didn't seem to have any effect on her. 
 
I was still patting the hard flesh down, gulping hard as I did, 
when she walked away, leaving me patting at the air.  She 
strutted over to the lounge and began picking up her white 
cushion cover.  She threw it into a straw-weave bag and as she 
did, she pulled out that pair of dark sunglasses and a Raider 
Baseball Cap; the black of the cap set off the almost-white 
blonde of her hair.  She reached under the lounge and pulled out 
a pair of gold high-heeled Greek sandals, with long strings 
attached to either side of each one.  She tossed them to me, 
where I made a fumbling attempt to catch them.  After retreiving 
them from the ground, she pulled me to her with the flick of an 
index finger. 
"Put those on me, and tie them nice 'n high", was all she said. 
I slipped the exotic footwear onto her small feet, and made sure 
that the strings wrapped around her lower legs evenly, and stared 
at her bulging calves.  I tied small knots in the thin leather 
just below her knees. 
I looked up to her as I crouched at her high-heeled feet.  I felt 
small and ashamed as I looked up at her vast molten muscularity 
towered over me; nearly-naked and raw, womanly and unforgiving, 
ready to take whatever caught her eye, with no apologies as she 
took her pleasure or her fun. And those breasts; bursting, 
straining the tiny top that would lose their struggle and moment 
now... 
The shoes gave her an elevator effect, as if she needed it. She 
was seven feet of hot womanly muscularity as she picked up the 
bag and turned, to begin walking away. 
I watched the heart-stopping bare behind undulate rhythmically 
beneath that glorious sinewy back; and it was so perfect I almost 
let it disappear without speaking, not wanting to disturb the 
perfect and elemental natural beauty she presented. 
I had to clear my throat three times before calling out. 
"Excuse me", I called to her. 
She was a good thirty feet away by then, and putting more and 
more distance between us every second.  For a second I imagined 
what she looked like naked; it was easy, as only two small 
strings of cloth, one on each hemisphere of her gorgeous body, 
made any pretense at covering her.  When she heard me, she 
turned, languidly, almost as though she expected things to happen 
just this way.  She put a hand on her hip impatiently; tapping 
her high-heeled encased foot.  She wasn't going to come to me... 
Those breasts were like beacons in a foggy night; twin 
lighthouses calling me in to shore; to safety...or danger? 
"I didn't get your name", I lied when I had caught up with her, 
still staring at the bountiful bosom that poured out around the 
edges of the frail bikini top. 
"That's 'cause I didn't tell you my name", she said plainly and 
matter-of-factly.  There was an awkward moment.  I pretended to 
be shy and breathless; I didn't have to fake it much, if at all. 
Even behind the sunglasses I could feel her laser eyes.  I looked 
around, my head down, smiling uncomfortably; finally letting my 
eyes rest somewhere just above the ground. 
"Why?", she asked. "Is it important for you to know my name?" 
I shrugged and mumbled, "I'd just like to know, that's all...." 
"Raye-Anne.  Raye-Anne Hallison.   But my friends call me Raye- 
Raye..." 
She turned, her hard face disappearing behind a thick slab of 
deltoid; and started leaving again; walking briskly now, buttocks 
churning, as though turning over and over... 
She was gonna make me earn this one... 
Last chance... 
"C-can I call you Raye-Raye?", I called out to her now, hoping 
that the hot hunk of blonde woman would respond; would give me 
some daylight now, a little leeway; a little mercy... 
Now she did come to me.  She stood very still at first, adjusting 
the strap of the weaved bag on her shoulder, as though debating 
it.  Then she started walking slowly, very slowly, over to me, 
the hips swinging wildly, sensuously; the movement of a giant 
Playboy Bunny made no less feminine by the many dozens of pounds 
of thick muscle she had added to her body.  She sauntered over to 
me in long strides, the bare powerful thighs working, and showing 
it as the quads churned and pulsed; she knew how to walk the 
walk, and she smiled the smile of a woman who knew she was in 
charge. Her breasts swung in heart-stopping rhythm from side to 
side, and gave one last sway even after she had stopped her sexy 
stride. 
I stood looking up to her. I felt the coolness of her shadow as 
it fell over me, shielding me momentarily from the merciless sun. 
God, she was a titanically tall woman. I felt absolutely dwarfed, 
by both her magnificent physique and her skyscraping height. Her 
chiseled bulk hovered above me. 
"Let me see if I understand you", she said academically as she 
removed her sunglasses and twirled them round and round. 
Her eyes twinkled with mischief and satisfaction; all along, 
she'd known... 
I traced the veins in her arm with my eyes and watched them 
disappear under the bulge of a gigantic bicep. 
 
 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723  
 
               (c) WIG, LTD 1993  All rights reserved 
 
                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: 
                      The Flexing Detective 
                               in 
 
              "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon" 
 
 
                          Chapter Four: 
 
                  Report to the MuscleBossLady 
 
 
"Great work, JT,"  Ursula said, her hugely-muscled arms folded 
across her lush chest, biceps peaked and rock-hard, huge... 
She nodded with approval as she swiveled back and forth slowly in 
her leather chair, smiling slightly with satisfaction; I sat on 
the edge of her desk and basked in the glow of my Muscular 
BossLady's compliments.  I had filled her in on my encounter with 
the jumbo-sized blonde on the way over; and we were making plans 
for tonight's cloak and dagger operation.  I had beamed all the 
way back to the office, even after Angela and Sally had chided me 
on the oversize lady escort on whose arm they had seen me exit 
the pool area.   
I was glad that I had pleased my BossLady.  But... 
 
"JT?....Hello, JT?" Ursula leaned into my field of view, but I 
was far away... 
I didn't hear her at first.  My attention was wandering; the 
events of the last two hours had been too overwhelming and 
compelling.  I had my date, alright.  I had asked the gorgeous 
Raye-Anne out for the evening; six-foot- six inches of tough- 
minded muscle and abundant cleavage packed hard and tight in the 
body of a Pet of the Month, beneath the face of a midwestern 
cheerleader... 
 
"....out with you? No," the blonde giantess denied me, with a 
shake of her head and a look of disgust, as she continued to 
twirl the sunglasses. 
"I won't go out with you.  Raye-Anne doesn't date runts.  But 
don't cry, little man.  You're welcome to come over tonight at 
seven for some dinner and a little TV.  If you behave yourself, 
maybe I'll even let you watch me hoist some iron around in my 
gym.  How's that?" 
I nodded enthusiastically, not sure whether I was acting... 
"That's what I thought", she sneered.  "Somehow, I didn't think 
your social schedule had any major events on for this evening, 
huh?  And don't you dare come to my doorstep in your cute little 
I-wanna-get-laid Sunday best.  I want to see you at my door in 
that hot little speedo, boy.  And nothin' else.  Get me?..." 
 
And I would've been happy to leave it at that, but my blonde 
musclegirl wasn't going to.  As soon as we had finalized our 
plans she had told me to take her arm and walk out of the pool 
area with her.   
 
I told her that I could walk just fine by myself, but she wasn't 
having it; reaching down for me with her powerful limbs she took 
my hand and tucked it up under her huge, thickly muscled right 
arm; my hand folded around it, the fingertips wrapped around the 
rocklike peak of her bicep... 
"Walk me home, speedo-boy", she had commanded. 
We walked out like that, like lopsided lovers; and as we passed 
the mother as she sat under an umbrella at the far end of the 
pool, I saw her shoot me a strange, quizzical look; seven-foot- 
tall-in-heels Amazons whose huge physiques burst with muscle was 
one thing, she must have figured.  But what was the deal with the 
guy who was on her thick and massive arm, like a schoolgirl with 
a crush on a lifeguard; with an erection pulsing in his tight 
bikini swimsuit? 
 
"You got a problem, lady?", Raye-Anne asked the smugly smiling 
mom, stopping to tower threateningly over the small woman.  Raye- 
Anne had shaken me off and ordered me to stay put by the 
poolgate--"while I tend to this 'Little prissy asshole'", she had 
said through clenched teeth... 
"Uh, young lady, tend to your business", the woman huffed, 
sliding her reading glasses down onto her nose and waving towards 
me with the paperback book she held in her hands and had been 
pretending to read.  It was a suggestion that was to go ignored. 
"This is my business", Raye-Anne announced, putting both hands on 
her hips and flexing thundering thick muscle that towered over 
the skinny figure.  The woman swallowed hard and began to lose 
her matronly cool, her face reddening; she was getting flustered.  
Heck, she was getting scared... 
"Listen, you old rag, who I pick up is my own goddamn business", 
Raye-Anne growled.  "Just because you can't get laid anymore 
doesn't mean I shouldn't.  After all, I've got the stuff guys 
want, don't I?", she pouted at the matron, flexing a gigantic arm 
thick with years of pushing heavy iron; and lorded it over the 
lightweight female below her, who was all knobby knees and elbows 
and sagging bosom in a two-piece suit. 
Strange how I recalled that the woman had actually made an 
impression on me as I had first entered the pool area; she had 
even seemed attractive and youthful back then. 
...a hundred years ago... 
The woman's child was sleeping on the next lounge; oblivious. 
"Well!", the woman harumphed. "Such language was never used when 
I was a young girl... And your outfit and that of your gigolo is 
downright disgusting," she informed us, voice wavering.  
And she turned back to the dimestore novel she was reading.  Her 
hands were shaking with fear... 
Raye-Anne wasn't moving.  She had a point to make. 
"Get up", the muscular volcano of a woman ordered as she towered 
from on high.  She absently readjusted the tiny bikini top that 
merely decorated her huge round breasts, rather than contain them 
or give support they did not need.  Her icy gaze never left the 
figure below her. 
The woman raised the book up to her face, and wished that Raye- 
Anne would just go away... 
"When I tell you to do something", Raye-Anne Hallison announced 
as though reciting a law, "you better shake your flat little ass 
and do what I say!"   
The air became more than tense, as thickly chiseled layers of 
ladymuscle tensed and prepared to correct a disobedient stranger; 
readying an attack.   
There wasn't a breath of air, and the water lay flat and mirror- 
like, reflecting the washed-denim sky. 
The woman would not look up, probably thinking that this bad 
dream would just go away if she kept reading her Danielle Steel. 
She saw the blonde-haired giantess spring for her, but could 
offer little defense other than a weak wave at the thick and 
veined forearm as it reached down for her, knocking her umbrella 
off it's holder; it teetered and tumbled to the ground.  The 
paperback book fell to the concrete, finding a puddle; it soaked 
in the sun-heated splash and was instantly ruined... 
Raye-Anne's seven feet of dominant muscle made short work of the 
woman, as she first lifted and then held her suspended over the 
ground by her dyed hair; and made her dance and dangle like a 
puppet on a string.  The massive muscle of her arm flexed this 
way and that, triceps pulsing with each little jerk of the 
frightened woman; who sought relief from the iron vise of a grip 
by grabbing the lushly muscled arm, small hands wrapping 
themselves desperately around the thick limb, as she kicked at 
the air futilely.  
Raye-Anne never stopped smiling. 
The woman winced hard and let out small yelps of pain, refusing 
to let a loud cry disturb her young sleeping son, and disclose 
his mommy's humiliation at the hands of a she-hulk. 
Raye-Anne walked with the woman, still suspended in the air, as 
though she was anxious to dispose of a disgusting bug; and 
brought her over to the edge of the pool, where she held her 
suspended over the blue icewater... 
"Listen, drycunt", she said, with a nonchalant tone in her voice. 
"The next time you see me I expect to be addressed with the 
respect I'm due, you get me...?", she asked, almost in a yawn. 
The woman did not answer; her reading glasses slipped off her 
face and fell into the watery icebox below... 
Raye-Anne did not lose her temper as I might have expected.  
Instead she flashed a razor sharp fingernail; it looked sharp 
enough to cut a steak.  She caught the front of the woman's 
flowery faded two-piece swimsuit and proceeded to slice it down 
the front.  The woman's pale naked flab slid out and fell 
exposed, long past it's expiration date for displaying at 
poolside; stretch marks predominant across her the white of her 
lower belly.   
The out-of-date outfit fell away through the woman's frantic 
clutching hands and into the cold blue beneath her, where it 
floated limply, in pieces. 
The nude woman stifled a sob and Raye-Anne let loose a laugh at 
the woman's humiliation.   
I stood in shock and awe at the avalanche of muscle and cruelty 
that was pouring from the big bad blonde. 
 
"Say you're sorry, little naked lady.  Say that you're real, 
real, sorry you made me mad, and that you don't want to go into 
the cold water.  Beg me, darlin'..." Raye-Anne demanded, her 
voice smooth and low, her thick muscle rigid and untroubled by 
the woman's bodyweight as she held her with one tree-trunk of an 
arm. 
The little naked woman tried to kick herself free one more time, 
but it was pointless; and Raye-Anne smacked the small white 
bottom with a flashing palm.  The woman yelped with pain as the 
crack of flesh on flesh filled the air... 
"I...I'm sorry, miss.  I-I didn't m-mean to make you mad", she 
struggled with words she didn't want to say. 
"You offended my little guy, too.  Really, lady, you have no 
manners, do you?" 
"Yes, I m-mean no", came words from a head that would have been 
shaking with fear, except that Raye-Anne was holding it by the 
hair, forcing the scrawny shoulders to do the squirming.  The 
dyed hair was suffering for her insolence, and some of it was 
coming out, giving way in Raye-Anne's grasp; the gray roots 
betraying the black hairdye and fluttering down into the water 
beneath her. 
"Silly lady.  You just can't make up your little mind, can you? 
You know what I do when I can't think clearly, lady? I take a 
cold bath.  Maybe you should, too..." 
She slapped her lightly, with contempt, the handprint forming in 
red on the woman's cheek.  She began crying softly. 
"Now, now, little lady.  No crying", she admonished her, waving 
the index finger of her free hand in her face.  "Like they said 
in the movie---"There's no crying in swimming!", my big blonde 
taunted with a laugh... 
The woman tried to dissuade her, begging; but the only word she 
spoke came just as she disappeared under the sheet of freezing 
blue with a small splash, and the word was drowned in a frigid 
little wave of white water. 
The word, I think, had been a plaintive, sobbing, "please". 
Raye-Anne brushed her hands together in congratulations to 
herself, satisfied she had made her point.  She leaned over and 
peered into the pool for a second, her broad muscle-packed back 
lowering.  Perfect bare iron-trained buttocks stared me down... 
The woman shot to the surface with a loud gasp, her hair 
plastered down on her skull; her child stirred.   
Raye-Anne was done with her, and she bounded over to me with 
renewed energy, her blue eyes dancing with the pleasure of 
domination, showgirl hips swinging with the sexy rhythm of her 
confident stride. 
She towered over me, merciless muscle and big breast dwarfing me; 
I felt much like a child myself as I looked up at the impossibly 
huge and perfect woman.   
She placed my arm inside hers again; fingers wrapping around it 
as though from memory.  I rubbed the onerous bicep, thick and 
commanding, with my free hand, as though to soothe it after the 
strain of putting smart-mouthed old ladies in their place. 
As the gate slammed behind us, I heard the older woman kick water 
and drag herself out of the pool, coughing and spluttering much 
as I had done. 
 
Minutes later, I was in the back seat of Ursula's car; every time 
I closed my eyes some moment of the last half-hour replayed 
itself in my mind... 
 
We had let Angela out of the car in front of our building; she 
sashayed over to her Supra and, gears grinding and screaming as 
she stripped them, drove off, the shiny sports car jerking and 
sputtering.  Ursula made a comment to the effect that that girl 
didn't know what she was doing in that car as we slid easily into 
the parking spot the little rich girl had vacated.  Already I was 
distracted; and no sooner had we parked and I began to climb out 
than the lightweight pants, really nothing more than thin 
hospital issue pajamas I always used for the beach, caught the 
metal projection on the doorframe of the big car; and the old 
fabric, weakened from years of use, tore apart completely, the 
pants all but falling off my body. 
Ursula found it mildly amusing.  Her assistant was standing on a 
city street in the small swimsuit.  Fortunately, there was nobody 
around; this was one of the quieter sections of town, and the 
heat of the day had encouraged people to stay inside, air 
conditioners on full... 
Still, I wasn't going to press my luck, and I told the giggling 
musclewoman that I would meet her inside.  I hustled around back, 
to steal my way into my bosslady's office on the freight 
elevator... 
I was less likely to run into anybody that way.  Who needed to be 
standing in the lobby in my state; trying to explain why I was 
dressed in a Chippendale's outfit? 
The door wasn't supposed to open from the outside;  it was for 
emergency use in the case of a fire, but I had my methods.  I 
kept a long sharp stick beneath the adjacent dumpster, and I had 
pulled it out and was inching the door open when a hand went to 
my shoulder and... 
 
"Well, well, well!", came a familiar voice from behind me. 
I turned and saw Officer Maria, standing close behind me in 
shadow, and dressed in a summer-issue policewoman's outfit.  She 
wore it tight; tailored and tapered to flatter her wide frame; 
the cloth stretched to bursting across the big boobs.  The skirt 
did her more than justice;  tightly hugging the curvy hips that 
extended from the wasp-waist.  She reached automatically for the 
waistband of the dark blue skirt and pulled it higher; another 
three inches of her showgirl legs crept out from under the hem.  
And, under the short sleeves, were those biceps beginning to 
swell on her arms? 
"Well, well, well,", she said again.  "I think I'm in love!", she 
purred, leaning into me with warm vanilla on her breath and lust 
in her bursting bosom.  She was a tall woman; six feet of purring 
blonde law enforcement taking a delight in my bare-skinned 
condition.  
"You know, JT, you look so good you're almost illegal", she 
purred, leaning in to me and reaching around brazenly for a 
nearly-bare buttock; she cupped it as though she owned it and 
juggled it in her palm.  
"Maybe I should take you in to the station", she teased, all 
raging hormones.  This swimsuit was bringing out the beast in 
these queen-sized ladies... 
"The other girls on the job would love to see you in those 
briefs...", she added, leaning even closer and letting the big 
boobs rub against me. 
I told her I was on a case for my boss; undercover. 
"Undercover? That makes sense, JT.  You've certainly sneaked into 
my heart...Nice work if you can get it", she said, pseudo- 
seductively, pumping a broad shoulder up and down.  "I was kind 
of hoping you were wearing that hot little thing to catch the eye 
of a certain well-built lady cop who could use the excitement", 
she said, with just a bit of seductive pout.  I never noticed 
what great eyes she had; pale, pale blue like the water of the 
pool I had just left... 
 
I thanked her for the case that she had steered our way. 
She waved off my thanks with a hand. "No charge.  Tell Ursula I 
hope she's feeling better, little lover..." 
I turned to go into the building; the stick was holding the door 
open for me, and as I pushed it wide to disappear into the dark 
interior, Officer Maria gave my rear end a playfully girlish pat. 
It stung; she was stronger than she realized and I jumped just a 
bit into the entryway.  As the door closed behind me, the last 
view I had was of the big-built, statuesque policewoman raising 
her skirt to her waist, flashing a tiny black bikini g-string at 
me and smiling a smile that said she meant business. 
The door shut and I was enveloped in darkness. 
 
Ordinarily, that playful spank-and-flash would have weighed 
heavily on my mind for weeks.  But with so much going on, I had 
to force it to the recesses of my brain.  After all, I had a date 
with an Amazon! 
And I wasn't completely sure if it was business, pleasure, or a 
dangerous combination of the two... 
 
"JT, are you with me?", Ursula asked again, this time putting a 
manicured hand on my thigh.  The touch of her flesh woke me from 
the daydream, a replay of everything that had happened at the 
pool... 
I looked up at her; the late-day sunlight streamed into the room 
on her; and I wondered what she would have looked like by that 
pool, in that tiny bikini... 
"Huh?", I said, aware only now that my mouth was hanging half- 
open. "Oh, sure, Sally", I confirmed.  "It's just that this has 
all been a bit overwhelming..." 
But Ursula looked right through her slender assistant as he sat 
perched on her desk in the brief swimsuit.  Poor JT, she must 
have thought.  He never gave up... 
She rested her chin in her hand as she leaned on her desk, 
letting herself come close to me now, turning her beauty, both 
facial and bodily, upon me.  Though I didn't realize what she was 
doing at the time, I did later.  She knew my big weakness was 
Amazonic Lady Bodybuilders, and even though she had always 
treated me like a faithful kid brother, she knew when it was time 
to use what she had for the good of the case.  She couldn't risk 
having me swept off my feet by the blonde She-Hulk, and so she 
turned her charms, at long last, on me... 
"Y'know, JT?  Seeing you like this is enough to give a big hunk 
of woman like me ideas", she purred.  The hand that she had 
placed on my thigh to catch my attention remained there, and she 
rubbed my flesh lightly with her fingernails, rising high, near 
my crotch, tracing seductive little circles that left 
imperceptible scratches on the sun-reddened skin. 
Ursula, I had thought, my heart racing...  
At last...! 
 
"Promises, promises, my big Bosslady", I said, falling into the 
deep and dark blue pools of her eyes; the water in this pool was 
fine--warm and soothing; no arctic temperatures lurking to freeze 
the bodies of loyal assistants... 
I did not notice that they were virtually identical to Raye-Anne 
Hallison's... 
She grinned like a she-wolf as her gaze alit on the skin bared by 
my tiny green trunks. 
Seventy-five inches and two hundred and thirty pounds of she-hunk 
was getting ready to close in and conquer easy prey. 
Did she know how easily she could have me at her feet? 
She wheeled herself closer to me and my hand went to the big 
bicep, dwarfing my hand as it lay upon it, and I felt it's casual 
strength at rest inside the darkly olive-toned flesh of this 
awesome woman. 
And she reached for me with two huge arms... 
 
"You better bring a box of condoms, JT", Ursula had warned me as 
I sat on her lap.   She was letting me explore her huge body with 
hungry and trembling hands; not knowing that I had done just that 
yesterday, on far more intimate a level.  In the last twenty-four 
hours, she seemed to have been transformed by the prospect of 
work and a healthy payday; she was almost the old Ursula of old, 
and the slight tremor I had seen in her hands earlier today was 
gone now. She was on her game, and I was glad to be a part of it. 
Her deltoids looked as though they had been made by a sculptor; 
layer and layer of bare brown muscle accentuated her broad 
shoulders, and I wanted to get my hungry mouth on them as they 
throbbed and pulsed on my bosslady.  
My hands looked small on the glorious ladymuscle, strangely pale 
and thin as they ran along the wide and dark thundering flesh. 
Up to now I had kept my hands off the healthy breasts, though.  
Strange, but exploring her muscles seemed somehow less sexual or 
daring than would groping the large womanly glands; but my groin 
did not know the difference; and I sported another painful 
erection. 
"How many is this today, JT?", she asked, her eyes moving only 
very briefly to the lump that throbbed again in my green trunks. 
"Why, Sally", I asked coyly, "whatever do you mean?" 
In truth, blood had entered and exited my penis so many times 
today, I thought that eruption was imminent, and might come 
spontaneously any second.   
Maybe even on the lap of my big hot BossLady... 
 
"Now, listen, my little Guy Friday, this is important", she 
admonished me, giving me a little shake on her knee. But I wasn't 
really listening.  I was watching a raging river of vein split 
into tributaries down her thick forearm, tracing each one with my 
finger. 
"JT, this is important, now...", she cautioned again.  "I want 
you to listen to what I'm saying..."  
She poked me with a shining red talon.  
I didn't take my eyes from that raging Mississippi Vein.  
"What happens if I don't?", I asked her playfully, tracing a 
rivulet that wrapped around bowling balls that called themselves 
biceps... 
"JT,!", she said, raising her voice just a bit, dark blue oceans 
of eyes flashing and boiling in a hot flare. "What will happen?  
For starters?", she asked, grabbing my chin roughly and forcing 
me to look up to her eyes now harsh and joyless. The powerful arm 
went to her waist, and her thumb hooked inside the thick binding 
that encircled it.  
"For starters I'll take off this big leather belt and tan your 
bare little hiney with it.  And don't think I won't, JT. You 
wouldn't like that, would you?  Or would you?" 
Hard deltoid met my hand.  I didn't have an answer, so I kissed 
it as it pulsed and throbbed under my grasp. 
Too late... 
Ursula twisted me around on her lap, and in moments I was laying 
across her lap.  A steady powerful tug and my speedo was peeled 
down around my knees.  I heard the rustle and crackle of leather 
as she whipped the black belt from around her waist.  I was about 
to be put in my place, big-time. 
I struggled with an apology... 
"Sally, I mean Ursula, I'm sor..." 
 
The sharp cracking whip of the leather came down on my bare 
behind. I jumped as a skyrocket went off in my head that exploded 
into stars; it then came to earth and landed on the tender flesh 
of my bottom.  And I braced for more... 
She used her hand now; letting it slap noisily across my behind, 
not using a fraction of her strength but piling on the spanks 
now, just hard enough for my bared bottom to become red with her 
handprints and sting with her punishment... 
Finally, she reached over for my chin and tilted it towards her. 
I was breathless with pain, shock, and excitement. 
 
"Have I made my point, JT? I mean business...", she stated.  One 
look at her grim visage and I knew she meant it.  The huge arm 
she flexed and nodded down at were solid-gold proof. 
I nodded, chastened and brought to heel... 
 
Bosslady pulled the drawers up to their rightful and more 
dignified place, and maneuvered me back onto her lap. 
She said nothing, but threw the thick strap of discipline over 
her thick, broad shoulder and stared at her wayward assistant. 
"I'm sorry, Ursula, " I said, buttocks stinging.  I used her 
given name--it had the hard and strong sound that suited her now, 
and I sighed, content to be put in my place so forcefully even as 
the pale flesh of my bottom was afire.  Her physique was 
tightened with anger or stress, maybe both... 
Every musclegroup was carved into contest hardness, sharp and 
thick muscle groups rounded up into hard mountains separated by 
deep ravines that looked as though they were created with a sharp 
knife.  They were hard and big and worthy of worship... 
"I'll do everything you say..." 
 
Ursula now reached for me and picked me up off her lap as easily 
as she might a bag of potatos, and placed me onto her desktop. 
The feat was amazing in itself; I weigh a good one hundred and 
forty pounds, and she strained not at all as she took me in her 
huge arms, muscles like boulders; flexing, and lifted me off her 
lap and plopped me onto the desk in front of her.  She looked me 
up and down; not the first time a powerfully built woman had done 
that to me today... 
I congratulated myself on being in demand. 
She held a silver pen in her hand, placing it across her lips, 
and sat tapping it against her painted mouth. 
"You have quite a cute little physique on you, y'know that, JT?" 
I looked down, embarrassed at her boldness but grateful for it, 
however long it had taken for her to notice... 
"Thanks, Sally", I said. I looked up after a moment. "But it's 
nothing compared to yours. You're so big and tall and...and..." 
Sally pulled the pen away from the lipsticked lips; some of it 
had rubbed off on the shining metal.  
"Stacked?", she asked, crossing her legs as a shaft of sunshine 
came through the dusty half-open window. 
"Uh-huh", I nodded. My eyes ran over her huge body again, wanting 
to touch it again... 
"And that's not all, either", I added. 
"I wouldn't think so", Ursula sighed, arching a brow. "Can't 
forget all this thick hard stuff I put on my bod, can we?", she 
asked, making her biceps bulge and strain on oaken arms. 
Breath ran from my chest. 
"Gosh, Sally, you're so big", I sighed, shaking my head dreamily 
and taking in the musclefeast my bosslady was feeding me. 
My suit was straining, almost ready to split across the crotch. 
I almost wished it would, and that I would ejaculate there and 
then, and end this sweet torture... 
And Sally laughed quietly at my reaction, verbal and physical. 
She swiveled in her chair, her legs thick and full of stored-up 
power.  One of her high heels hung off her foot, and she wiggled 
it playfully.   
Downstairs, on the street, there was a collision of some sort; 
sounds of crashing and crunching metal and honking blaring horns 
came through the open window.  Moments later, four-letter 
language wafted up to the fourth floor and hit our ears.  Ursula 
winced at the suggestion made by the angry crier that the party 
responsible had questionable parentage. 
 
"That's what I like about you, JT.  You don't curse and swear and 
act all macho and gruff. You're just you.  Always by my side, and 
ever dependable. Some men don't like working for a woman; they 
think that it's not cool or manly, or something...But not you, 
huh?  I'm really lucky to have you with me, aren't I?", she 
inquired, a trifle dreamily now, exotic eyes half-lidded. 
"You certainly are, Sally", I huffed playfully, thrusting my thin 
chest out and tilting back my head haughtily. 
Amused, Ursula stood up, and up... 
Boy, she was a tall drink of water. Or in her case, a mighty 
mountain of hot sex and pulsing, thick she-muscle.  She towered 
over me like a wide-bodied skyscraper, all bare thigh, big 
breast, and bad-girl biceps... 
"Six-three, JT", she said, as though she was reading my mind. 
Though in fact, my eyes were running up her long legs... 
How hard was it to guess?... 
"In my spiky heels, I'm close to six-foot-seven", she purred, as 
though whispering the secret ingredient to a love potion. "That's 
alot of woman, huh? I'm too much for most guys to handle, 
'specially with all these hot thick muscles", she said in a sing- 
song of seduction.  I tried to climb her with my eyes... 
She stretched like a cat, filling the room, towering over me, 
making me dizzy with delight.  I could hear the blood racing 
through my inner ears.  I felt faint... 
"Not that they don't try, JT.  They do. But", she shrugged, 
sexily, pouting, "they just can't get me off...." 
She put her hands on her hips and whipped her shoulders back and 
forth, her arms flapping like the wings of a beautiful and Dark 
Angel of Muscle and Delight, a prize I had long thought was the 
sole domain of men who could match her size... 
"And getting off is very important to me, JT.  How about you?", 
she asked, breathlessly... 
And her muscles danced as she fluttered and flexed the hot 
ladybulk back and forth, her arm-wings cutting through the dry 
air; the action seemed strong enough to lift her off her feet and 
let her hover overhead.  Her display fanned the stillness, and I 
felt a breeze.   
If that was what heaven was like... 
 
She brought her arms in front of her now and locked one hand 
against the other in isometric contest; one densely-muscled slab 
of ladymuscle arm pitted against the other, her sinews fairly 
pulsing with life.  The huge arms almost seemed to be breathing, 
or as though some secret heart was pumping away, deep in the 
massive biceps, that made them contract and expand, contract and 
expand; each group determined to dominate in this battle, like 
hungry bodybuilders in competitive posedown.   
With me as the audience. 
I thought that the muscle groups, pumped and flexed to enormity 
right before my worshipful eyes, would soon explode; the caps of 
her deltoids were full of blood and bitterness at the hours of 
hard iron-pushing punishment that they had been subjected to by 
their mistress. 
But, man, it had been worth it.  Hadn't it? 
Her musculature inflated... 
So did my desire. 
She towered over my head, dwarfing me with her She-Muscle.  I 
felt almost asexual, insignificant and small below her. 
 
"Looks good, huh, JT?", she asked in a soft purring tease, 
through clenched teeth, as she looked down at her own arms 
approvingly, and winked at me. 
I nodded so hard I almost hurt my neck. 
"Well", she said, making the triceps grown and dance as she 
continued to push her hands together, "be a good boy and you'll 
get to see a whole lot more of this big body.  Maybe I'll even 
need a rubdown after the case.  Would you like to do that for me, 
JT?  Would you like to come over to my bedroom and give me a nice 
naked rubdown? It'll make your big bosslady feel sooo goood", she 
assured me.  "Maybe I'll even let you get naked with me", she 
suggested, the words like ambrosia to my senses, thrilled at the 
thought and picture in my mind's eye of laying naked in her big 
black bed with her, preparing to do things with her that were 
beyond imagination; that I dreamed of only at night, when I was 
alone and thinking of her... 
She turned her back now, and flexing her car-door lats.  She 
glanced at me over her shoulder, smiling as she held every muscle 
in her torso frozen in a huge and awesome flex that defied 
possibility... 
"How about it, my little loverboy. Would you?", she asked again, 
bringing her hands behind her now, half-turning and flexing one 
more awe-inspiring time.  Her deltoids looked ready to revolt, so 
angry was their response to this strenuous musclepose; she was 
beginning to perspire, and her skin glistened, hot and 
inviting... 
Then she spun around again and blew me a sweet kiss through 
painted lips... 
 
 
 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723  
 
                        (c) WIG, LTD 1993 
 
 
                     Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: 
                      The Flexing Detective 
                               in 
 
              "The Adventure of the Amorous Amazon" 
 
                     Chapter Four (Cont'd.) 
 
 
Presently, the towering muscle-packed Amazon stopped and regarded 
me with clear, curious eyes that saw right through me. 
"How tall are you, JT?", she asked, finally, tilting her head 
inquiringly, as though the question had never occurred to her. 
Her massive arms were folded against her abundant chest; they 
pulsed with thick muscle, and I cleared my throat. 
"F-five seven", I offered, though in fact I was closer to five- 
six. 
"Hmmm", she purred, stepping away from her desk now, dangerous 
spiked heels clicking on the wood floor.  She walked behind me, 
and now circled around the old oak; a sexy excursion around an 
adoring figure who would trade, in a second, all his rights and 
worldly goods to be her slave.... 
She was the perfect woman for me, now and always.  She was 
defiantly proud of her incredible body, and would not cover it up 
to assuage the fears of a frightened world; a world afraid of a 
powerful woman who did not take any guff from anybody, ever... 
She showed her thick rumbling flesh off to it's fullest degree, 
disclosing pounds and inches of hot, dark ladymuscle, bared and 
veined and throbbing, in skimpy fishnet tops and micro- 
miniskirts.  She'd flex and pump and dare a daunted world to look 
away.   
And if they did, who cared? 
It was their loss... 
Supersized, sculpted muscle and heaving double-d-cup breasts 
ruled the day.  One day, many women would sport this luscious 
look, and life would be paradise for guys like me! 
 
She came around behind me now, bending her statuesque figure low, 
and whispered... 
"I like that in a man.  Smallness.  As long as he's not small all 
over", she sighed, breathlessly, seductively...   
Standing over me, letting me lean back against her solid bulk, 
she placed two hands on my shoulders, overwhelming them; and she 
scratched them lightly with her blood-red talons.  I closed my 
eyes and enjoyed the rush of pleasure her touch bestowed upon me.  
I could smell that erotic, exotic musky scent she alone had... 
I turned to her.  
"Gosh, Sally", I said, turning my head and looking into those 
killer blues smiling down upon me. "I thought you only liked guys 
that were, you know..." I shrugged, embarrassed to acknowledge my 
shortcomings. 
"Big? Like me?", she asked, bluntly. Now she was the one who 
shrugged, drawing mountainous shoulders high for just a second, 
before letting them drop in a thick glorious fall that made her 
big swelling mountains of breast jiggle just a bit, and stretch 
the suffering thin cloth.  I know it wasn't nice, but I half- 
wished it would split open, and the glorious big breasts would 
come spilling out into my face. 
 
She kissed my shoulder, paralyzing me with delight. 
"Big's okay", she said, standing behind me and reaching over to 
run her hands down my chest, kneading the none-too-firm flesh. 
"But not always. Sometimes a great big hunk of ladymuscle like me 
needs a sweet little guy to take under my big thick she-guns", 
she sighed girlishly as she nodded to her arms; she made the 
muscles throb and twitch on command as they reached down across 
my chest.  My hands went to them and ran up and down the sinewy 
limbs as though to make sure they didn't get away. I could smell 
her perfume.  It made me want to sign over my soul for her 
amusement. 
 
"I want to hold a little sweetheart of a guy in my big, she-gun 
arms; somebody I tower over and can dominate and give a good hard 
spankin' to--when he needs it", she added. 
"And take care of," she said, hinting a sweet promise in my ear.  
"Who wants to be taken care of, JT", she added, kissing the top 
of my head.   
"Somebody cute and small who'll do everything I want, and make me 
smile.  Somebody who can adore me for the hot, big 'n busty gal I 
am.  And who knows? If he's good, and obeys the every little whim 
and wish of the big lady bodybuilder, like spotting me when I 
train, and bathing me when I'm sweaty, and tailoring all my 
little outfits so they show more of my musclebod; well, who 
knows? I could be happy.   
'Couldn't you be happy, JT?", she asked, spinning me around and 
pulling me to my feet easily and quickly as a rag-doll. 
She reached down and undid the velvet short-shorts and pulled 
them over her hips; she slid them down her thickly muscled legs.  
Always faithful and eager to serve my big hot bosslady, I quickly 
crouched at her feet and pulled the black garments over the high- 
heeled shoes, my eyes locking momentarily on her big, perfect 
calves.  She rolled her stocking down oaken thighs, and I wrapped 
them up carefully. 
She had small ankles, like a ballerina's... 
Ursula stood towering over me in her muscle-bound glory, the tank 
top's end hovering on her hips, loose only at her wasp-waist 
nearly as small as mine...   
The silken heaven that was her vagina was covered by tiny pink 
satin panties.  It was inches from my face as I knelt and looked 
up to her; I could detect a faint far-away scent of ladymusk. Was 
she as excited as I was?  
"Something interest you down there, JT?" 
I looked down at the dark, beautiful thighs of steel.  I reached 
out and placed a worshipful hand on the thick quadriceps.  It was 
hard and smooth and I kissed it, unashamed to show my devotion 
and my desire.  Her calves were oversize diamonds of glorious 
ladymuscle, hard to the touch. 
Hands pulled me up and I stood against her, bare flesh against 
her rock-hard voluptuousness. My hands reached to her shoulders, 
running them along her upper chest that lay bared by the deep 
scoop of the skimpy top.  
"Oh, Sally", I said, nearly choked with happiness and lust.  She 
pulled me up to her, and I had to stand on tiptoe to meet her 
mouth as it, finally, came down hard and longingly upon mine, her 
painted lips parting as they did, opening her mouth in hot and 
frank intent. 
Our tongues met in brief battle, rubbing hard and wet and 
fervently.  But Ursula, ever dominant, took control of the kiss 
as easily as she had taken control of my dreams.  For a love- 
drunken second, I wasn't sure who I was kissing; Ursula or the 
remote and cool-edged Raye-Anne Hallison.  I heard her bracelets 
jingle on her wrist as she pulled me ever closer to her; my hands 
went to her thick wide upper back, and slid hungrily under the 
large armholes of her thin tank top.  We leaned against the desk, 
and I hoped desperately that she would push me down upon it, pull 
off our clothes quickly, and take me, as I so wished she had 
yesterday.  I tried to lean back over the top, but Ursula's hot 
mighty bulk was more than strong enough to resist; she had other 
plans.  My erection was eagerly seeking something to rub against, 
as though possessed of a will of it's own.  I began rubbing and 
humping her steel thigh, leaking small wet ejaculations, verbal 
and physical... 
Quickly, her hands cupped my bottom, and she lifted me off my 
feet as easily as she would a child; I locked my legs around the 
small of her back as though I was climbing a tree.  Never once 
during this Amazonian feat did our kiss break; nor did I want it 
to.  Cries of delight stifled in my mouth, occupied as it was by 
Ursula's prodding tongue; and they escaped only as muffled 
breaths of pleasure from deep within my chest. I felt small and 
protected in her powerful arms, weak and desiring only her touch; 
to know her dark lush secrets as her muscular body would bury me 
in her bed... 
I felt the tree-trunk thickness of her powerful arms in my hands; 
astonishing muscle at work beneath the skin... 
She held me there for some time, effortlessly handling my 
bodyweight as my mouth yielded to my Big Bosslady, urging her on, 
her tongue like a whip I responded to hotly; my grasp upon her 
large body tightening as I issued a small cry of bliss from the 
sweet scouring of her tongue. 
Somehow, sometime, during that kiss she had carried me over to 
her chair, and sat down; I was blissfully unaware of moving at 
all, as my eyes closed tight, fervent hands explored her back. I 
cupped the prominent shoulder blades, feeling their hardness; I 
stared at them every day, and now I had them in my hands so long 
denied... 
I felt orgasm nearing, from the sheer excitement of this rough 
treatment at her hands... 
Finally, when I thought she might be slacking in her intensity, 
as though she had re-thought this at-long-last-pass at her 
assistant, the kisses coming shorter now, the breaks for air 
longer, I took a chance. I did not want this to stop; I wanted 
her to tear the tiny swimsuit from my body and make me hers; 
conquering me, claiming me as hers; right here, where I had spent 
so many hours silently worshipping my exotic giantess whose 
muscle and breast heaved and hushed all my thoughts. 
"Please, Sally, take me, please, make me yours..." I begged, 
before burying my face in her neck, to taste soft skin and silken 
hair. 
"Please fuck me, Sally", I urged her, choking, kissing her 
steeply carved trapezius with an open trembling mouth. 
 
She kissed my forehead.   
"I think you better get back to your desk, JT, before your boss 
does something she'll be sorry for." 
I looked up to her.  Her face had become oddly impassive... 
"I won't be sorry", I encouraged her, my hand only now going to a 
full breast that strained the cloth of her top.  The nipple was 
thick and erect and poked prominently through the cloth; her 
areolae were plainly visible--she was braless, and it tickled my 
palm.  I leered at her with half-lidded eyes, my thin chest 
heaving dreamily. 
No dice.  Ursula gently took the hand away from her bosom. 
"I know, JT, but if I take you now, you won't have anything left 
for Raye-Anne....", she offered. 
"When can we?", I asked her like a child denied it's playground 
visit. 
She looked at me with large eyes that were full of sadness rather 
than lust. 
"Soon, my little secretary, soon...", she said, patting my arm. 
"Promise?", I pouted, as I ran a hand along the hulking bicep. 
"Yes, I promise. Now don't bother me, JT, or I'll get that big 
leather belt and tan your little backside right over me knee", 
she said in mock-threatening tones amidst a tired smile and 
flexing muscle. 
I would have been happy to accept that punishment and half- 
thought of trotting over and fetching the belt and dropping my 
drawers for her. I would lay across her lap and accept my 
strapping if only to have more time with her... 
But she had already turned away, as though in pain... 
 
I obeyed her order and got up. The close contact of our flesh had 
lubricated our thighs with a thin veneer of perspiration; and I 
stumbled just a bit as I stood; Ursula's thick solid arms caught 
me.  Our eyes met again; they stayed locked onto one another even 
as I turned to walk out of the room; and unfastened only when my 
distracted vision caused me to walk right into the inner office 
door as it sat ajar... 
The moment lightened, and Ursula broke out into a motherly 
chuckle as she sat at her desk.    
I dressed with trembling hands in my office.  Presently, through 
the open door, I saw her rise, and march in her panties, 
stockings over her broad shoulder, to the ladies' room off her 
office. The door slammed hard, almost in anger. 
I took care of last-second business in the office, arranging 
everything just so; Ursula liked it that way.  But my mind was 
lost in a fog of females; they made my brain swim until I shook 
off the little pool of dirty daydreams... 
Ursula had finally come round! 
Forget flashing female ladycops who were married anyway; forget 
even Raye-Raye, who had reduced me to a shivering, jelly-kneed 
poolside sex slave with little more than a quick flex and a snap 
of her fingers; forget them all...  
I had Ursula.  
My mind ran to a future that revolved around her in every waking 
instant.  I could still work for her, couldn't I? Wouldn't it be 
a money-saver if we got married? Of course, I'd get rid of my 
place. I could live with her. I had only seen the inside of her 
bedroom once, when we stopped off for just a moment to pick up a 
piece of mis-delivered mail; she laid her huge musclebod down 
every night upon a queen-size waterbed covered in black satin. 
When she had gone into the kitchen, hadn't I thrown myself down 
upon it and enjoyed the sway of the waves as they gurgled beneath 
the sheets? I smelled Ursula's deeply erotic earthy scent on the 
bedspread, and imagined... 
And ejaculated, too, I reminded myself.  Right in my shorts. 
 
As I was leaving the office on still-shaky knees, she called out 
to me, and came to the doorway that separated our offices; god, 
she was magnificent... 
She had put her shorts and stockings back on; I wished she had 
let me do that for her... 
"Oh, listen JT...", she said, extending a twenty dollar bill in 
her hand.  I asked her what it was for. 
"Condoms, kiddo.  Weren't you paying attention? You might need 
them tonight. And pick up a number three platter for me at the 
health food store.  Tell them to deliver it.  I'm starved..Oh, 
and for chrissakes, JT," she said pretending to be annoyed and 
pointing her chin at my nether regions, "will you please put some 
pants on?"   
I realized I was still in the swimsuit; I was so distracted I had 
forgotten to put on my slacks! I stood there in shirt, tie, and 
briefs... 
I stumbled and mumbled an apology---I had almost gotten used to 
walking around in the tiny green trunks! I complied. 
Ursula watched my pull my slacks up my trim legs, and when I was 
done she stepped over to me, across her threshold.  She leaned 
against me once again, her tumbling breasts resting on my 
shoulders.  A talon scraped lightly across my testicles through 
the cloth.  Before my hands could go to her arms like flies to 
sugar, she grabbed my elbows, cupping them in either hand.   
I found myself lifted high off my feet, over her head.  My feet 
dangled... 
"Hey, careful there, JT", she cautioned me, ducking an 
inadvertent kick.  "You put any bruises on my bod and I'm gonna 
make you kiss it til it gets better...How 'bout that?" 
I smiled, looking down at her for once, rather than craning my 
neck upwards.  I was held aloft by Sally Parkheart as easily as 
she would hoist a baby... 
The office looked different from so high up.  But now, didn't 
everything? 
On the way down, she held me just long enough to insert her 
tongue in my mouth and quell the battle my own tongue would make 
with hers; and I acquiesced as she licked the back of my 
throat... 
Finally, she lowered me, and I felt the reassurance of the 
hardwood floor beneath my feet.  I would rather be aloft in her 
arms... 
 
I took the twenty and left, full of her lipstick.  At least she 
was interested in eating right; it was her first interest in 
health food in two weeks.  Those red-brown areolae, nipples hard 
and erect and jutting, so visible through sheer cloth, haunted my 
thoughts.  I saw them every time I closed my eyes. 
I wished, as I bought the sheer rubbers in the drugstore, that I 
was buying them to use with my bosslady, to wrap quietly and 
quickly around my penis as I stood at her bedside, where, on 
silken black sheets below, she lay naked, big breasts beckoning; 
a hard, hot woman, waiting... 
 
But hey, I thought, wickedly--if I got to use them with Raye- 
Raye, well, I could settle for that, too! I nodded and smiled to 
myself, forgetting my quiet declaration of love for Sally back at 
the office, and my daydreams of marital bliss as I had filed away 
folders with hands trembling with desire.  I remembered how great 
Raye-Raye had looked on that chaise lounge, too.  I could call 
her that, couldn't I? 
I looked up and saw the bald, elderly pharmacist looking at me 
quizzically. He must have seen my slight and strange smile as I 
took my change... 
 
I caught a catnap back at my apartment, and showered.  As I 
stepped out onto the bathmat I got a glimpse of my body in the 
full-length mirror.  The hairlessness was strange; and it seemed 
as though the body belonged to someone else; in much the same way 
as shaving a mustache can make a face seem strange for a day or 
two, until you get used to it. 
I had an hour to kill; after applying an icepack to me red rear, 
I read this month's "Women's Physique World" and learned 
everything I could ever want to know about a gorgeous hunk of a 
woman named Diana Dennis.  And then some.   
But what the heck--as they say about some other magazines--I only 
buy it for the articles... 
The biggest woman in the slick periodical didn't come close to 
the two slabs of female I was head over heels for. 
I smiled a wicked little grin again. Yeah, they were both worth a 
tumble, weren't they?  Why should I have to depend on Ursula's 
decisions?  I could have my cake and eat it too. 
...And why not? I had reason to be optimistic, I thought, 
conjuring naughty possibilities in my mind as I envisioned myself 
running hungrily and happily cross-town from one lushly-built and 
well-muscled lady's bed to the other... 
A guy should have all his bases covered, after all... 
I wondered what the gorgeous Raye-Anne Hallison did to get ready 
for a date.  Would she greet me in that killer bikini?  Or 
dressed for domination, in spike-heeled boots? 
Or maybe, I hoped, in nothing at all? 
 
I drifted off into another catnap, where I met my Musclebosslady 
again.  And someone else, too... 
 
She was naked, huge, brown, carved...Her nipples were erect on 
the big bare breasts.  Her hair was piled high on her head, and 
she stood perched on her ever-present spiked heels. 
She was standing next to the most inviting-looking brass bed I 
had ever seen, pillows piled high.  And she was beckoning me from 
across the room with one finger, the sharp nail painted white. 
I ran to her, but got only a few feet when I found myself jerked 
off my feet; Raye-Anne Hallison had other ideas.  She, too, was 
naked, and huge and brown and... 
And there was gonna be a fight. 
I had landed at Raye-Anne's feet, where a high-heel came down on 
my bare buttock... 
"Stay right there, little man", came her smooth and cool Country 
Girl voice as she stood above me, flexing; meeting Ursula pound- 
for-pound. 
"Your boss and I have a few things to discuss..." 
And she charged at Ursula; the two giant and naked female 
bodybuilders collided, the air rushing out of both their bodies 
with an unlady-like 'ugh' as they wrapped their arms around each 
other, naked muscle against naked muscle, like two giant pythons 
encircling a foe and trying to squeeze it's rebellion still... 
The she-hulks crashed down on the bed, naked and angry, their two 
pairs of huge breasts crushed one against the other in a slow 
dance of violence.  Big nipples stabbed softly... 
Ursula's hair came loose and fell wildly across her face; she 
swung at Raye-Anne and connected.  The big blonde fell across the 
mattress but eluded Sally's pounce at her with the speed of a 
mongoose... 
Now Raye-Raye took command, leaping all her considerable 
bodyweight onto Sally's back before she could move; and she 
locked an iron forearm around her neck. 
My bosslady's face grew red, choking; but found the strength to 
rally, calling on long years of pushing metal to shove the 
younger and somewhat larger blonde's muscle-packed thick body 
off-balance just for a second; Raye-Anne tried to find her 
balance as she kneeled on the bed, but could not center herself 
on the soft mattress; and Sally used that brief moment to good 
advantage. 
She turned and met Raye-Anne's face with her fist again.  The big 
blonde caught her forearm, though, and chuckled through clenched 
teeth as she pulled my Lady Heartthrob head-first off the far 
side of the bed. 
Her perfect rear end plummeted to the floor, legs opened and 
splayed; my breath caught as I saw her perfectly trimmed vaginal 
bush part, revealing her pink pussylips for just a moment before 
they, too, fell from view behind the bed, headed to the hardwood 
below. 
Where Raye-Anne pounced like a wildcat... 
The two bare-assed muscleladies were out of sight for just a 
moment.  But in that moment I heard struggling, and cursing, and 
fist meeting flesh, heads banging onto the hard floor.  The lamp 
teetered on a nearby nighttable, and fell out of view, where it 
crashed.  The lights went out. 
There was a loud scream of pain.  Somebody was hurt badly. 
Somebody had lost... 
 
And my alarm went off. 
I cursed my luck even before I opened my eyes... 
 
I drove back to the office an hour or so later, as per our 
arrangements.  The dream haunted my thoughts.  Was it the pre- 
cursor of things to come? 
Still, I had a job to do, and Ursula was depending on me, so I 
decided to focus on the here and now. 
Ursula seemed to realize a good thing, I said, nodding to myself 
in the rear-view mirror of my battered old bug as I chugged and 
crawled through early-evening traffic.  I couldn't expect her to 
melt overnight, could I?  And we were on a case; a bad time to be 
in love, as the song went.  But where Ursula was concerned, the 
question for me was academic.  As soon as this was over, I would 
make my stand; what did I have to lose?  She was available at 
last, and so I didn't have to worry about some equally 
musclebound boyfriend of hers, catching me and pounding me to 
pulp... 
But what about Raye-Anne? Wasn't I going to play one against the 
other and see who wanted me the most? 
I was divided, confused and torn; lost in a maze of battling 
ladymuscle. 
 
Snip! 
When I got to the office I found Ursula sitting at her desk.  She 
was wearing a black sleeveless bodysuit that hugged her body-so- 
muscular like a second skin; and she was giving herself a rather 
abrupt manicure.  The red nails were laying in a small strange 
pile of dead shards on her desk; the last nail went now, flying 
up for just a moment before landing with the others, guillotined 
to it's death on the green felt. 
"Hiya, JT", she said, looking up for just a second... 
"Just taking care of the last-minute details.  Can't open a safe 
with those claws, could I?", she asked rhetorically, pointing at 
the glassy red clippings before her.  She had a flush of 
enthusiasm on her face; I was glad. 
I was also very nervous. 
Ursula happily went about smoothing the short stubby fingernails 
now, filing them expertly with an emery board. She held them out 
in front of her, happy with the results. 
"I never liked those cat-claws anyway", she said at last, getting 
up and sweeping the little red vanities into the waste-basket she 
had brought up to the edge.   
"Good riddance...", she called down to them as she adjusted the 
thin straps of her outfit as they tried to decorate her killer 
shoulders. 
I was sorry to see the sexy cat-claws go. I liked the sharp 
feline daggers that grew on her fingers.  
Especially when she used them on me, as she had just that 
afternoon. 
I stepped into the bathroom to change back into the beachboy 
outfit... 
 
"OK, JT, time to make some money", Ursula said as she appraised 
my body yet again. I felt acutely insecure as she looked me up 
and down from her chair; I knew that her former lovers were all 
twice my size, and I knew I was disappointing... 
But she said nothing. 
She pulled the straps off her shoulders, and they hung limp 
across her arms; the outfit was held on her torso by her own 
large-breasted, wide-bodied bigness.  She began curling a large 
and heavy black dumbbell as big as my Volkswagen as she sat at 
her desk; the skin of her arm was stretched tight and looked as 
though it would crack and split over the glowering hunk of 
rapidly-expanding muscle beneath it.  She looked down again, so 
as to finish the last few reps now... 
"How's this, JT?", she asked.  She nodded down to the arm that 
responded to the iron challenge by growing and throbbing at about 
twice it's usual size.  I could have sworn it pulsed with her 
heartbeat, as though it was beating away not in the center of her 
chest, but under all the deep harsh layers of muscle on her arm. 
"Looks pretty hot, huh?", she asked, knowing my answer, reading 
it with her eyes. 
I nodded and watched her switch to the other arm.  The bicep 
answered the wake-up call by sprouting and straining and turning 
to a big fist of muscle, a luscious lump of thick ladypower; 
veins almost audibly crackling throughout... 
My eyes rode the ski-slopes of her muscular arms, the terrain 
full of deep lows and high-sculpted peaks; and I was taking the 
ski-lift to heaven... 
I didn't respond to her call to arms, as it were, until she was 
finished.  When I made like Susan Sarandon again, my towering 
Amazon Bosslady laugh in delight... 
She had a sweet laugh, high and gentle, like a nun's.... 
"Love that li'l swimsuit", she said, wiping sweat from arms, huge 
and thick and carved; she patted them daintily with a kleenex as 
though they were delicate bone china rather than slabs of female 
muscle grown to unheard-of size.  They were so big they were 
almost obscene; larger than my thighs and demanding attention 
from her assistant. 
"Hope our little session over my knee hasn't bruised your cute 
butt too much, has it?", she asked, motioning for me to turn 
around and show her.  I did, leaning over her desk. 
 
"Oh, that's nothing", she assured me, as she patted the round 
fleshy globes. "Just a tiny little bruise.  Raye-Anne won't be 
too disappointed.  Besides, JT, I had to show you who's boss 
around this place, didn't I?", she asked, showing me the latest 
muscular developments with a quick and casual flex. 
I nodded and smiled and looked away.  I didn't tell her that I 
had soaked my sore behind with ice to remove the redness that had 
come with her punishment. 
"Ready to go to work?", Ursula asked with a nod at my bare flesh. 
She tossed the damp kleenex at me, and I would be sure to slip it 
into my desk drawer on the way out; it was a souvenir of sweat 
from the woman I loved... 
I was starting to feel like a beauty pageant contestant, made to 
walk around in skimpy attire to please prying eyes.   
"Right, bosslady," I said, finally responding to her question and 
trying to sound brave, hungering for the swollen slabs of female; 
but in fact I was full of mixed and contradictory feelings; 
suddenly I felt guilty about my attraction for Raye-Anne; but the 
die was cast.  I had committed myself to this job, and I couldn't 
let Sally down, could I?  So I decided to play both ends against 
the middle; I'd make it clear to her that I was doing all this 
for her; and if I had a good time, well, that could be my little 
secret, couldn't it? 
She handed me the box of condoms from her desk.  I opened it and 
tore off several of them from the pack, tucking them into my 
swimsuit.  I had the foresight to bring a long coat with me; no 
stares were needed in the lobby! 
Ursula seemed to flex, huge and determined, as though on reflex; 
to prepare for the night's work.  I sighed again... 
As we walked out I put the box of condoms into the top drawer of 
my desk along with the tissue. 
 
Ursula silently drove me over to the development; I rode beside 
her, admiring the view of her magnificent body.  Her large 
breasts would bounce as we hit a pothole, and held my eyes in a 
near-hypnotic spell.  Her hair was pinned up, off her shoulders.  
The way she might look early in the morning, coming down to 
breakfast after a long night of love-making... 
She was going to let me off right in front of the place so as to 
spare me the indignity of a long walk in the small briefs. 
She ran down the details again to me, just before I left... 
"Now make sure she's out of the way when you let me in, JT.  
Angela says the bedroom is on the third floor.  Think you can get 
her to seduce you?", she asked, smiling evilly and patting my 
face. 
"Once you're in bed with her, invent a reason for going 
downstairs.  Tell her you left something down there..." 
"But Sally,", I protested mildly, "I'm going in there almost 
naked.  What is there to leave?" 
She laughed. "You'll think of something, I'm sure...", she 
answered, shrugging giant shoulders, damned delicious delts 
dancing and heaving. 
She pulled me to her easily; and her tongue slid into my mouth as 
our lips pressed hard and hungry and wet. 
"When you get your little buns back to my office, I can show you 
alot more of this body, JT.  Remember that..." 
"I will, Sally.  I promise." 
 
"Careful, angel", she said, handing me the flowers and champagne 
she had purchased for me to give my mean-tempered amazon. 
I got out of the car nervously; I looked at Ursula, suddenly 
colliding with the reality of the situation; the danger. 
What if Raye-Anne Hallison figured out what I'm trying to do? 
"I'll be waiting for your signal; after I get the papers, Maria 
is gonna stay behind and wait for you. I hope your big blonde 
musclegirlfriend in there doesn't steal you away from me..." 
She kissed my cheek, tenderly. 
"Make me proud, JT", she said, flexing and throbbing her huge 
right arm for me.  The huge muscle was a sweet reminder of what 
would be coming.  It throbbed and danced and pulsed and promised 
hard-edged delight in the coming days... 
She blew me a kiss, and I gulped hard with delight and fear as I 
slipped off my coat, my eyes devouring her enormous bicep as it 
continued to dance a dirty little dance just for me. 
"Yes, ma'am", was all I could say, before closing the car door 
and turning, all but naked and ready to offer myself as bait for 
a woman even bigger than Ursula! 
She watched me as I walked apprehensively up to the forbidding 
front door of a giant mean-tempered blonde Amazon. 
I heard the car pull away as I prepared to ring the bell. 
 
 
 
                  Chapter Five is Coming Soon! 
 
 
 
Note: If you enjoy "Ursula Parkheart", and would like to read 
more of her adventures, leave a message on the board! 
 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723