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Alarms and Excursions


WARNING: This story includes sexually explicit material.

Please note any unfamiliar spellings and phrases may be due to the fact
I am English, not American.

I would like to thank the proof-readers for all their help

Any comments, including constructive criticisms, would be most
appreciated. Please send to

This work is copyrighted by the author. You may download and keep one
copy for your personal use as long as my by-line and e-mail address and
this paragraph remain on the copy. Any posting or reposting on a website,
other than the archive of the newsgroup or Dejanews, or to a newsgroup
requires my permission first (but I'll probably say yes). This story should not, under any circumstances be used to make a profit by anyone
other than the author

Glossary knackered - common expression for feeling really, really tired.
Something to do with take worn out horses to the knacker's yard, I'm told.
York - a small city in the north-east of England. A1 - the main motorway
heading north in England. OAP - old age pensioner York Minister - the
cathedral at York, which is floodlit at night.


Alarms and Excursions (FM cons)

by Vickie Morgan

I always hate being woken up by alarms, especially if it's before ten
o'clock in the morning. So I wasn't happy about being jerked awake in the
middle of the night. Especially when it had been a long tiring day trying
to explain the complexities of computers to a group of beginners. You
know, difficult things like how to turn it on and that the mouse didn't
squeak when you touched it. It had been one of those hot, sticky days that
pass for summer in England and leave you feeling wrung out and totally

Since it was a week-long course, I was staying at a hotel in York
instead of travelling home up the A1 every night.

I don't know how hotels do it, but they can make the simplest meal last
an hour and a half. By the time I'd had some food, done all the paperwork
and the prep for the next day, and had a shower, it was already after nine.
It didn't take long to discover that, as usual, there was nothing on TV, so
the only sensible option was to settle down for an early night.

It took a while for me to drift off to sleep, with the heat and the
hundred and one thoughts churning around in my head. But eventually I was
asleep and enjoying a bizarre dream about Xena and Seven of Nine mud
wrestling, when I was jerked awake. Since my dream had just got to the
interesting stage where clothes were coming off, I tried unsuccessfully to
go straight back to sleep. Eventually, it registered in my drowsy brain
that a bell was ringing. I fumbled for the alarm clock, then the
telephone, but still the ringing continued. I stumbled to the door and
stuck my head out. One of the hotel porters was running down the corridor,
knocking on all the doors.

"What's going on?" I asked unoriginally.

"Fire alarm, sir," he informed me. "Please leave the hotel immediately
and go to the assembly point, next to the big fountain in the garden at the
front. You can use the main staircase, but not the lifts. Please hurry."

Even my befuddled brain comprehended that this was the real thing, not a
drill. All the occupants of the rooms on this floor had been brought out
into the corridor in the wake of the porter's door hammering, and everyone
was asking the same question I had, in one form or another. Feeling
slightly smug, I passed on the information I had gleaned. Mild panic
started to spread, but in a very reserved British way. I wasn't too
worried until I spotted a group of hotel staff, all clutching fire
extinguishers, run up the stairs and disappear down the corridor on the
floor beneath us. Suddenly realising that this could be a serious
situation, I followed everyone else's example and dived back into the hotel

Trying to tell myself I wasn't panicking, I threw off my dressing gown
and yanked on some jeans and trainers. I pulled on my suit jacket, and
added my coat, checking that my wallet and car keys were in the pockets.
As I hurried down the stairs, I spared a passing thought for all the
computer equipment in the conference room, waiting for the course tomorrow.
However, I decided that I wasn't going to risk my life for someone else's
belongings. If the worst happened and the whole place burnt down, I was
sure they could claim on the hotel's insurance.

It had been at least ten minutes since the alarm had started ringing,
but there weren't really that many people making their way down the
staircase. The hotel was a big, old building with a long, sweeping main
staircase, chandeliers bigger than my car, and a baby grand piano in the
lobby. The prices it charged tended to attract the older, retired class of
customers. Looking around the dining room earlier that evening, I had
estimated that the average age of the hotel guests had to be around
sixty-five. Not only were most of them slightly deaf, but they were also
slow moving and not inclined to appear in public unless they were fully

I found myself in the midst of a group of elderly ladies who were
shuffling down the stairs, clinging to the banisters and each other. It
seemed rude to push past them, so I tried to patiently confine myself to
their pace. They were understandably flustered, and turned to me for
support and answers, as I was the nearest available male. I soon used up
my meagre stock of information, so I was pleased when I spotted the Duty
Manager hovering in a corridor. I told my ladies that I would catch up
with them outside, and went to cross-examine him.

He couldn't really enlighten me much. Apparently, no one really knew
what was happening. Something had set off the fire alarm in the section of
the hotel that was currently being renovated. There was no electricity in
that wing at present, and no way to discover what had caused the alarm
without investigating further and in person. It could be just a false
alarm, but on the other hand it could be the real thing. Feeling anything
but reassured, I returned to the main staircase and continued downwards.

Hotel staff were stationed in the hallways, directing us out through the
main exit. It would have been a bit more comforting if the staff hadn't
had such a struggle to look calm and professional. They kept casting
anxious looks upwards, and the general sense of anxiety was starting to
infect me. It seemed incredible that anything tragic could happen in such
genteel surroundings, but it was possible. Vague memories of the fires at
Bradford Football Ground and the underground station at Kings Cross drifted
through my mind. They were no more unlikely locations for disasters than
this hotel. I found myself wanting to hurry, instead of walking decorously
behind an elderly couple.

I was conscious of a feeling of relief as I exited the hotel. The
sticky heat of the day had cooled to a pleasantly balmy night, with a clear
black sky splattered with stars. The hotel receptionist was stationed next
to the steps down into the garden with a torch, but when I questioned her
she knew less then I did about what was happening. I obediently walked
across the meticulously manicured lawn to the big fountain. There was a
circle of stone benches, but I left them for the older guests and instead
climbed on the rim of the pool, looking around to try and discover where my
group of ladies had got to. Even at their slow pace, they must have exited
the hotel by now. Vague feelings of guilt for having abandoned them so
cavalierly nagged at me, as I strained my eyes trying to locate them.

I felt slightly anxious as I scanned the building, but I couldn't see
either wisps of smoke or flickers of flames. Guests were still trailing
out of the hotel, anxiously chivvied along by members of the hotel staff. I
amused myself by admiring the strange combinations of attire people had

It's not surprising that she caught my eye. She was the only female
within my range of vision who was under thirty and not wearing a hotel
uniform. Instead she was clad in a long T-shirt that almost came to her
knees, with a trench coat over it, and an incongruous pair of high-heeled
shoes on her feet. The most noticeable thing was her hair. As red as the
flames I feared to see, it fell down her back in a tangled mass. Somehow
its unbrushed state made it obvious that she had recently got out of bed,
and I felt an involuntarily tightening in my groin.

She was helping one of the old ladies down the stairs, steadying her
when she faltered, and giving her a reassuring smile. She supported the
frail woman across the grass and helped her settle on a bench. She looked
around at the bizarre scene, frowning as she pushed her hair back from her
face. I repressed the desire to offer to help with her hair, as the look
on her face made it clear, even to me, that she was not in the mood for
frivolities. She shrugged out of her coat and wrapped it around an old man who was plainly shivering. Feeling slightly guilty, I took off my own coat
and offered it to the nearest trembling OAP. I was surprised how cold so
many of them were, but then I have heard that your blood becomes thinner as
you get older. Since I found the night air pleasant enough, I took off my
jacket and offered it to another shuddering soul.

When I caught up with the red-haired girl, she had tracked down the
hotel manager and was cross-questioning him.

"You must have some idea how long we're going to be out here?" she was

"We have to do a roll call to make sure everyone is out, then the
firemen have to check the building and declare that it's safe before we can

"Then you are going to have to get some blankets out here. You can see
how cold these people are," she insisted.

"I don't know if we could do that," he protested.

"Of course you can," she told him briskly.

"Once people have exited the building, they aren't supposed to go back
in," the manager explained weakly.

"There's still people coming out and you haven't done a roll call yet.
That's just not a good enough reason to make these people suffer."

"I'm sorry, madam," he began, but she interrupted him.

"Don't stand there calling me 'madam', get in there and get some
blankets organised."

She tossed back her hair and glared down her nose at him. I tried not
to admire too obviously the way her hard nipples were clearly displayed
through the thin T-shirt material. Instead I decided to support her.

"Is there any real reason why you can't get some blankets? It's obvious
they're needed," I said calmly.

"Sir, I've just been explaining to madam here, that it's against
regulations." I could have sworn that I heard her grind her teeth when he
called her madam, and her fiery temper was evidently hotting up. She
opened her mouth to speak, but I jumped in first.

"Couldn't some of the hotel staff still inside be contacted and asked to
bring some blankets out here?" The manager was already shaking his head
before I had finished my suggestion.

"If you aren't willing to do what you should, you will force us to go
into the hotel and try to find some blankets ourselves," the girl declared
militantly. "If that happens, I'm sure we won't be the only ones lodging
complaints against you. Is that what you want?"

"Now then, there's no need for any of this. I'm sure I can sort
something out." He cast a flustered look at us, before backing off and
hurrying away.

"He'd best be quick about it, or I'm going after him," she declared,
generously giving me a share of the scowl she was aiming at the retreating
manager. I had been admiring the length of her legs and trying to tell if
she was wearing any underwear, but I quickly snapped my gaze back to her

"You've done the best you can," I told her soothingly. "Why don't you
come and sit down. It looks like they're going to start the roll call."

Sure enough, the receptionist was stood near to the fountain, shining
her torch on the register she had balanced on her arm, while also trying to
handle a megaphone. I wasn't too surprised to hear my companion give an
impatient sigh, then stride over and take the torch and register off the
receptionist. I followed her, and arrived in time to help the receptionist
climb onto the end of one of the stone benches. I was handed the torch,
and ordered to shine it on the page.

The receptionist took a deep breath, and pressed a button to activate
the megaphone. I don't know what she did, but it played a jaunty little
tune. I glanced towards the redhead, expecting her to be furious, but was
surprised to see she had dissolved into giggles. She had a lovely smile,
which suited her much better than a scowl. I couldn't help laughing with
her, and the receptionist caught the infection and chuckled too. The
atmosphere considerably lightened, the roll call began. It was a haphazard
affair, as names had to be constantly repeated for the benefit of the hard
of hearing and late arrivals. Eventually the receptionist gave up, and
climbed down.

My former perch on the pool's rim had been taken, and we had to go
around to the far side to find space to sit down. The arrival of a fire
engine created a stir of excitement, and I was pleased to see some of the
hotel staff emerge from the building with armfuls of blankets. From where
we sat, we had the tinkle of the fountain behind us, and in front a
shrubbery backed by trees, with floodlit York Minister appearing to float
above the treetops. I stole a sidelong look at my companion. She was
leaning back, supporting her weight on her hands, with her legs stretched
out in front of her. Her hair swung free as she tilted her head back to
look at the stars, and her T-shirt clearly revealed the lines of her body.
I could now tell that she was definitely wearing no underwear, and arousal
ran through me. She couldn't know how lovely she looked and I had to fight
to restrain myself from placing my hand on her thigh and sliding it up
under her T-shirt. I smiled weakly at the old man sitting further along
and crossed my legs. Despite the discomfort it caused me, I continued to
admire her.

Soon the megaphone was brought into use again, to announce that it had
been a false alarm, and the hotel had been declared safe to re-enter. She
stirred and sat forward.

"Sorry," she offered.

"What are you saying sorry for?" I asked, guiltily wondering if she was
referring to my state of arousal.

"For being such a bitch," she explained. "I guess I was a little
scared. I hate not knowing what's going on."

"It's OK, I've had plenty of experience coping with control freaks," I
teased. "Besides, you were quite right, blankets were needed." She gave me
a grateful smile, then jumped to her feet. The benches and the rim of the
pool were now all empty. I had to lean to one side to look past the bulk
of the fountain and see the hotel entrance. Guests were slowly wending
their way back inside, but it was obvious they were going to take a while.
I sat back up and returned my attention to my titian-haired temptress.

"It's silly because it was just a false alarm, but I feel as if I've had
a brush with death. And now I feel really, really alive." She stretched
her arms up and stood on tiptoe, then flung her arms wide and spun around.
My mouth went dry as I admired her lithe figure, and I wanted nothing more
than to catch hold of her and make love to her then and there. Trying to
control my wayward thoughts, I looked around to see what everyone else was
doing, but they had all departed and we were alone. She was studying me
with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Don't you feel all revved up and twice as aware as you were before?"
she asked. I did feel revved up, but not really for the reasons she was
referring to. She was stood in front of me, and the junction of her thighs
was immediately in front of my face. I don't know if it was my
imagination, but I was sure I could smell her musky aroma. I was trying to
force my mind to less intimate thoughts, when she took me by surprise by
stepping closer to me and sitting down on my lap, her legs astride me and
my chin nestling in her cleavage. I was so startled that I didn't know
what to do, and froze, not even breathing.

"If the worst had happened, we could be dead right now," she whispered,
winding her arms around my neck. "But we're not, and I think we should
celebrate that." I didn't have to ask how she planned to celebrate, because
she dipped her head and placed a kiss full on my mouth.

Her lips moved against my mouth, cool and firm, then her tongue was
sliding along mine, teasing and flirting. Her fingers tangled in my hair,
tipping my head to suit her whim, as she took her time exploring my mouth.
She knew how to kiss, and I was losing myself in the sensations when I
became aware that her other hand had trailed down my chest and was know
tugging at the buttons of my fly. I couldn't believe this was happening.
It was as if she had read my mind and decided to fulfil my fantasies. The
only thing shielding us from public view was the central statue of the
fountain. The thought of someone catching sight of us only aroused me
further. The bushes in front of us and the backdrop of the falling water
created an illusion that we were in our private cocoon, but the murmur of
voices and the hum of the traffic reminded me that we were in the centre of
a busy city.

Then her hand was inside my trousers, and I stopped thinking and just
felt. The warmth of her hand, the cool of the night, her firm grip, all
focused my attention on my penis. She stopped kissing my mouth and instead
dropped to her knees and started an equally pleasant but more intimate
kissing. She tugged at my jeans while her mouth embraced me, and I
co-operated until my jeans were around my ankles. As much as I was
enjoying her ministrations I knew I wouldn't last long, and I wanted this
unique experience to last as long as humanly possible.

I wrapped a handful of her incredible hair around my hand and gently
tugged her upwards. She immediately tried to guide my throbbing erection
inside herself, but I had other ideas. I pulled her onto my lap and
settled her comfortably. Then I did what I'd been wanting to do for so
long: I placed my hands on the silky smooth skin of her thighs, and slid
them upwards. My thumbs brushed her hidden curls as my hands skimmed her
hips and I felt her shudder. My palms glided up her sides and over her
breasts, feeling her nipples tighten as I passed. I caught the hem of her
T-shirt and lifted it over her head, leaving the rest of the top around her
neck and shoulders. Her arms were tangled in the material, and she was
effectively blind. She trustingly arched her back and leant into me.

Her body in the starlight was a sight I knew I would never forget.
Satiny white skin, highlighted with pink tipped nipples, shimmered and
gleamed before me. Reverently, I ran my hands across her, feeling honoured
when she shivered and sighed at my touch. My mouth was irresistibly drawn
to her breasts, and I licked and nibbled them, cupping their weight in my
hands, caressing and fondling them. I was so involved I didn't notice
exactly when she freed herself from her T-shirt, but her hands were
gripping my shoulders, the bite of her nails encouraging me as much as her
murmurs and moans.

I was gasping for breath myself, become more rough as my grasp on my
self-control slipped. She didn't protest, but writhed against me
enticingly. In one swift movement, she raised her self up and then impaled
herself on my penis. It was like being engulfed in hot velvet. She was
tight and wet around me, and the slightest movement produced exquisite
friction. My hands closed over her bottom to help her move and I buried my
face between her breasts. Assaulted from all directions with stimulation,
I knew I wouldn't last long. And when she suddenly stiffened and gave a
high cry, gripping me tightly with her thighs andthighs, fingers and vulva,
I lost control, pounding into her, pouring myself deep inside her, trying
to make us one.

I don't know how long we sat there, clinging together as our ardour
cooled. Eventually, we began to feel the chill in the air, and decided to
make a move. A few moments searching was necessary to locate all our
clothes and footwear, then we made our way across the lawn to the hotel
entrance. I could tell that normal everyday considerations had returned to
my lover's mind. She was vainly trying to tug her T-shirt a bit further
down, and her arms were folded across her breasts. She was trying to walk
while keeping her thighs tight together, and I couldn't help chuckling at
the adorable picture she presented, waddling through the ornate hallway.
She shot me a self-self-conscious look.

"It's OK for you," she hissed. "I have to try and make it to the
bathroom before I create a puddle. I just hope no one notices us."

Unfortunately, her hopes were immediately shattered. The hotel manager
came bustling up to see us, a porter following him with a tray containing
mugs of hot chocolate and glasses of brandy and our donated items of
clothing over his arm.

"Please accept these drinks, compliments of the hotel, to warm you up,"
the manager said. "And here are your clothes that you so generously
shared. We do apologise for your disturbed night, sir and mada..." He
remembered his last conversation with us, and hastily changed his sentence.
"Er, Mr. and Mrs. Green, and we would like to thank you for all your
assistance." He gave us an ingratiating smile, but my love just sniffed and
hit the lift button. I thanked the poor man and relieved the porter of his
burdens, before following my wife onto the lift. It might not have suited
everybody, but I had thoroughly enjoyed my night excursion.

Copyright Vickie Morgan, October 1999 E-mail

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