Tom watched in astonishment as Sergeant Amy Tooth of the Sex Police unzipped her uniform and emerged from it like a butterfly from a chrysalis. Her creamy midriff was bared to shiny black PVC shorts, cut high on the thigh and tight across the bulge of her pouting mons veneris. And when she turned to rummage in her bag, she thrust out her posterior in heart-stopping provocation.
Amy straightened and turned, one hand now sheathed in a rubber surgical glove, the other holding a small plastic bottle.
'Don't be alarmed, Mr Glass, ' said Inspector Quartermain. 'She's just going to take a sample.'
The beautiful and cruel mistresses of The Primrose Court are enforcing - Lust Under Licence. They're putting men under the microscope, altering the way they behave, challenging the male establishment. A tycoon is lying in hospital trying to regain his memory after falling from his penthouse apartment, his past enveloping him in stark erotic detail, leaving him in need of the gentle mercies of his personal nurse. Is he really engaged to the blonde television weathergirl with an inventive way with his bedside equipment? Is his lovely assistant really experimenting with a fitness plan based on multiple orgasms? And most significantly, is he really under investigation by the ruthless she-devils of the Sex Police?