Author's Note: It is recommended to read the previous chapters of this story if you have not done so already to better understand the storyline and characters...





Jen woke up tightly wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, smiling as the image of Dan tucking her in when he had gotten up this morning came into her mind. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was only a few minutes after 10:00 am, earlier than usual for her to get up on a day off; however, as she debated sleep, the smell of pancakes drifting up from the kitchen made up her mind as her stomach growled in response.

Stretching her body, she arched her back, causing her breasts to strain tightly against the stretch-laced camisole top she was wearing. She extended her legs, kicking the double quilts off her body as she slowly got out of bed.

Seeing the image of herself in the full length mirror, she paused and admired her reflection. Her athletic body was outlined by the close-fitting lingerie she had put on the night before, showing off all her curves. The see-through laced ensemble accentuated her body more than covered it. Turning to the side and looking at her profile, her large breasts were silhouetted by the clingy top and turning back to face the mirror, saw how her areolae were clearly outlined through the laced material.

The top only extended a few inches below her breasts, leaving her stomach bare, her flat well-toned midriff accessorized by her pierced navel. She was wearing a simple bar-bell with a white zirconium stud and as the light caught the gem, it drew attention to her slim waist.

Again looking at her profile, she ran her hand down her waist to her bubbled ass, tight from dancing and working the pole. The close-fitting lace boy shorts she had on seemed to grip her ass cheeks like a second skin.

Jen smiled at how her slim body almost looked top-heavy with her large breasts, their size and firmness often mistaken for implants. Then her smile turned into a frown remembering Tim's comments and his mauling of her tits, as the previous day's events rushed back into her memory.

The recollection was so foul she considered putting on a robe; however, it being both her and Dan's day off, there was no reason to hide her body from her own man. She paraded topless in front of strangers each night, so weekends she was happy to display herself to Dan to make up for it. It was the least she could do for him she thought, as she went to brush her teeth before going downstairs.

Entering the bathroom she saw the small pile of clothes from the night before as more memories of the previous day came crashing back to her. This time she could not stop the flood of images flashing into her mind: Tim watching her clean up after practice topless, seeing herself being fucked by Mr. DeWight on his television screens, yielding to Mr. DeWight and sucking Tim off and then ordered to spread his cum all over her body, dancing nude and letting the crowd touch her, and finally topping the evening off by sucking off a cop to avoid going to jail.

Incomprehensibly she felt her nipples hardening as she recalled Mr. DeWight and Tim's hands upon her, then the crowd's, along with everything else she had done. Her body relished the physical attention, yet mentally she felt terrible about what had happened. Looking at the pile of clothes, she once again relived the events in her mind, wondering how she could have allowed everything to have happened.

Jen had never considered blow jobs actually cheating, her reasoning being them to be only a more advanced form of hand jobs, which were basically masturbation; however, her lewd display in front of Mr. DeWight and Tim, and then the policeman, was not the behavior of an engaged woman. The breach in trust towards Dan weighed heavily upon her as her mind continued to reminisce.

Upon arriving home last night she had been thankful Dan had already been asleep, heading straight to the shower to wash off not only the usual sweat covering her body from dancing, but the odor and tight film of cum from two different men. She had stood in the shower long past the point when the water turned tepid before finally getting out of the shower stall.

Jen was already feeling bad for lying to Dan about the day practicing at the club, now she had even worse things to confess. And based upon the things Dan hinted at with her contract, who knows what else she would be forced to do.

Although she could not come up with a way out of the contract she had been pressed into, the one thing she had decided upon was to tell Dan the truth.

Arriving at the thought, she had cried in the bathroom long after her body had air dried from the shower. Moving almost mechanically in her despair, she had put on her sleeping attire and crawled into bed next to Dan. She could not live with herself after all that happened if she kept lying to him, and resigned herself to telling him everything, knowing her marriage and their engagement were doubtlessly over.

As Jen stood in the bathroom to brush her teeth this morning she once again became despondent, a wave of self-pity overcoming her as she pondered accepting the twisted life Fate had now dealt her. Once Dan left her she would be alone, but still bound to the contract. With the money Mr. DeWight had hinted she could make, she would not be wanting for anything—other than her own self-respect.

Last night she had lain in bed for hours thinking about what her existence would be like with Dan no longer in her life. Just the thought of him gone left such a physical ache in her chest she knew she would not care about anything that happened to her.

Maybe her lot in life was to be nothing but a DSA spokesmodel, synonym for a porn star, tramp, slut.

She thought of the things Dan had found in his report, about how many of the girls working for DSA ended up doing pornographic movies. Was that her eventual career advancement? Offering her body to whomever she was told to be with?

As she considered what she was being maneuvered into, she realized the idea did not bother her as much as she thought it should. It was not what would end up happening to her that truly bothered her she realized—it was the loss of Dan depressing her the most. He had been a solid rock in her life, the calm in the storm where she always felt safe.

Once he learned of her behavior, regardless of the circumstances, she was certain he would be through with her. She had been amazed and overjoyed at his acceptance of her infidelity with Mr. DeWight, knowing it had not been her fault; however, once she told him everything else, she knew no man could put up with so much.

Jen did not know what would become of her, nor did she care once Dan was out of her life. She had little to no education, barely graduating from high school. All she had was her body and dancing. Stripping came easily to her as she was a born exhibitionist. Maybe falling deeper into the adult entertainment industry was her lot in life, she lamented.

The A/C kicked on, bringing the fresh smell of pancakes and coffee to her nose as she forced herself out of her self-pity. If it was over, she decided, then so be it, but she could not lie to Dan any longer. She loved him too much and he deserved the truth, even if she did not deserve him.

Her mind made up, even if it meant the end of her happiness, Jen went downstairs.

Entering the kitchen Jen's train of thoughts was interrupted as she beheld Dan sitting at the table surrounded by almost three reams of papers. He had his old calculator out as well as his laptop which he was typing vigorously upon as he looked at a pile of papers to his side.

Surprised, Jen asked why he was doing taxes so early when he shocked her replying, "No, I was just going over your contract."

Jen's mouth fell open in shock as she exclaimed, "But that's not what I signed!"

Dan shook his head. "No, you signed this," he said patting a small stack of papers in front of him. "Unfortunately, each page of this refers to the other piles. Essentially you signed an agreement to abide by all the others," he told her, his hand waving over the stacks of other papers.

Jen could only stare in dismay as she tried to gather her thoughts. "He can't do that!" she exclaimed, speaking about Mr. DeWight as she wondered what the Hell she had gotten herself into.

"Sadly my love, he can and did," Dan told her.

Jen could only stand and stare in disbelief as she felt her world getting smaller, boxing her in. She was no longer in charge of her life, all control gone as she pondered how she could have caused such a mess.

Dan smiled at her, the love clear upon his face as he told her, "Why don't you get some breakfast, this might be something to go over better on a full stomach."

Mechanically Jen moved towards the stack of freshly made pancakes on the counter, her mind completely numb. The familiar Saturday repast he had made her for years felt out-of-place and soiled at the circumstances suddenly surrounding her life while her thoughts swirled in turmoil. She glanced once again at the numerous pages of her 'contract' as she realized her life was in a complete free-fall with no net to catch her.

********************

Dan watched Jen shuffle to the counter and could not believe how such a beautiful girl could have ever ended up with a guy like him. She was perfect, and the love he felt for her swelled his chest. It was because of this love he had such concern for her, trying to figure a way out of the hell before them called a contract.

Dan was an early riser, smiling as he recalled tucking Jen in with all the quilts earlier. Yet even as early as he had awoken, when he went to get the morning newspaper the box of documents had already arrived. At first he thought it was something Jen may have ordered, as she was always finding new outfits and such for the club. Picking up the box he was caught off-guard by its weight and opening it and realizing what it was he had been in as much shock as Jen at the sheer number of papers.

It had taken him a couple hours to arrange them logically in terms of the duties as a DSA spokesmodel, benefits and medical plans, and so forth. He was just now coming to grips over how indentured she was to DSA and knew it would take at least a few more hours to figure everything out.

As dejected as Jen looked now, he knew once she learned of the contract's clauses she would be a wreck.

Preparing himself to what would not be a good morning, he silently vowed to do everything in his power to make her happy once again.

This was all Chuck's fault. Dan's male instincts took over as he focused upon the one pivotal cause for his woman's unhappiness and strife, all his energy focusing upon how he could get back at his rival.

Looking at her again he could not believe how gorgeous she was. The morning sun shone upon her reddish brunette hair making it sparkling and golden, as if her face was surrounded by angelic light. And her body was mind-staggeringly spectacular.

He felt his pulse speed up as he looked at Jen's well-muscled legs, the curved calves and toned thighs going on forever even in bare feet before arriving at her perfectly shaped ass.

She was wearing her usual bedtime attire of a tank top and underwear, this morning it being a lace camisole and boy short panties.

As she stood profiled to him, Dan continued to marvel at her figure, the contour of her large breasts almost defying gravity as they stood out proudly from her small frame. His eyes journeyed down to her smooth flat stomach and the outline of her flawless, bubbled ass. Her panties seemed to accessorize her ass more than cover it, the material exposing half of each cheek and molding against them, flush against her as if the lace were a part of her skin.

Jen turned to get the syrup and he smiled, seeing she was wearing his favorite set of boy short panties. These were opened in the back exposing the crack of her ass, a white ribbon laced up to keep them together. He knew from experience untying the bow allowed him to take her from behind without having to worry about wasting time to take them off.

Unable to stop himself, he got up and moved behind her.

********************

Jen jumped in surprise as Dan's body met hers, his arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her against his chest, kissing her hair. She took solace in the comfort of his arms as she reaffirmed her commitment to tell him the truth. She could do no less for the man she loved.

Her body held tightly against his, she became aroused. Even as bad as she was feeling, knowing her life with him was soon to be over, she felt her body respond to his. As her breasts tightened involuntarily she wondered if she still had Ecstasy in her body, silently chastising herself—she did not need an excuse to be aroused at her own fiancé, she thought—enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Reluctantly she pulled away from Dan's embrace, telling him they needed to talk. Although the mounds of paper kept drawing her attention—her desire to know how indebted she had become to Mr. DeWight another weight upon her mind—she focused her attention on Dan. Her only consolation was she would be honest to him until the end, even if it meant losing him. Trust was a major part of their relationship, and until now, she had always been honest with him. It was the least she could do for him, knowing in a few moments he would be gone from her life.

As they sat down at the table, Jen slowly recounted the day before last when she had gone to practice, this time not leaving anything out as she spoke of what had occurred: her lewd behavior at being shamelessly groped by the foreman in front of his men, her resulting nude pole dance, and ending with how she had been so aroused she had rushed home to fuck him.

Dan said he understood, saying he knew her drinks had been laced with Ecstasy as she held up her hand to stop his sympathy for her. Knowing her life as she knew it would be ending, she told him of the day before.

She was in tears as she spoke about her meeting with Mr. DeWight, his seduction of her, her reluctant blowjob with Tim, and ultimately sucking off the cop. As she finished, she was sobbing uncontrollably, prepared to watch Dan get up and leave her forever...

********************

As Dan listened to Jen, his body was filled with greater and greater anger until he was in a seething rage. Yet his wrath was not focused upon Jen, but instead Chuck, who had manipulated her into doing everything she was ashamedly confessing to him.

It did not matter whether or not Chuck knew of Jen's relationship to Dan. That he had manipulated any woman into performing such acts against her will was enough to cause anger to flood his body. Listening to Jen at how smooth and natural Chuck had acted, he wondered how many other women his rival had manipulated, blackmailed, and coerced.

He recalled college, where Chuck had ended up sleeping with every girl Dan had been interested in. In retrospect he was glad, as he never would have gotten back with Jen if he had found somebody else. Now he wondered if those women had slept with Chuck willingly. With all he knew of Chuck, his gut was telling him no, they had not. It made more sense that after he had caught Chuck with each of them, they never again returned his calls and avoided him on campus.

As Jen spoke, his fury grew and grew until he silently vowed to stop Chuck at whatever cost. Such manipulation of women—and his fiancée in particular—had to be stopped. His hatred of Chuck had reached its peak and he swore he would do anything in his power, even if it meant losing Jen, if he could wreak vengeance upon Charles DeWight III once and for all. Dan had thought he hated Chuck all his life, but now he knew true hatred, the emotion consuming him as he promised to eradicate Chuck and everything he valued.

Dan realized Jen had stopped speaking and looked at her, seeing the alarm and grief in her face as she regarded at him. He suddenly realized she could plainly see his anger, mistakenly thinking it was directed at her.

"Sweetie, I am NOT mad at you," he told her.

He explained how he understood how she had been manipulated, drugged, coerced, and completely beguiled into doing everything that had happened. In the back of his mind he knew of Jen's low self-esteem and inability to say no in stressful situations, not placing any blame upon her for what had occurred. Chuck had orchestrated everything, and although a stronger willed person may have been able to refuse him, he could not fault Jen for her weakness.

Seeing her tears, he quickly took her into his arms, consoling her as he repeated his thoughts, explaining he would do anything to stop what Chuck was doing to not only her, but obviously other women.

They held each other for what seemed forever as they finally broke their embrace. Trying to lighten the mood, Dan told her they could do nothing if she starved, seeing a brief smile upon her face as he got up and reheated her breakfast. Jen said she was not hungry but Dan knew better as he placed the plate of pancakes and warmed syrup in front of her, smiling as she slowly took a bite.

As Jen started forking the stack of pancakes with more gusto he realized how much he loved this woman and wanted to end her problems, once again wanting to drive Chuck into a hole somewhere and forget him forever.

Sitting down and watching her eat, he once again admired her athletic body. He recalled how sexy she had looked dancing last night, even with his shock at her lewd behavior and dancing nude he could not deny how aroused he had been watching his fiancée seductively sway her body to the audience.

Then he recalled how he had watched Chuck fucking her, feeling aroused as well. It was not the fact his rival was fucking his fiancée, but at another man lusting her so much. He felt an odd sense of pride at her being so voluptuous and coveted by other men, but always coming home to him.

********************

After Jen had finished speaking, she had become more ashamed of herself than ever. Seeing the visible anger on Dan's face she had actually become frightened, making her more ashamed of her actions than ever.

Then Dan had told her he was not angry at her. Surprised at first, believing he was lying to her, he explained it was Mr. DeWight he was angry at, not her. As Dan expressed his love, Jen knew she was unworthy of such a man.

Eating her pancakes—surprised at how her appetite had returned—Jen felt a change in Dan's attitude. Finishing the last forkful of syrupy goodness she looked at him, surprised to see a look of sheer lust. As if flicking a light switch her body flushed in response, her pulse rising as the cleft between her legs became moist.

She was taken aback at the sudden arousal; typically it took her a while to become so stimulated. Again she wondered if there were remnants of whatever her drinks had been laced with, once more chastising herself for trying to find an excuse for her body's response to her own man.

After all that happened, Jen was ready to let Dan have his way with her, willing to do anything for him in repentance to the way she had behaved at the club.

Dan smiled at her and surprisingly instead of acting out upon the thoughts she was sure were in both their heads, took her in his arms and told her how much he loved her.

Jen replied she was unworthy of his love as he moved back and smiled at her, giving her a soft kiss and telling her they would figure out a way to not only get out of this predicament, but get even with Chuck.

Jen looked at the pile of papers on the table, her mind immediately on the contract as she asked Dan how bad it was.

He told her he had read through most of the contract. "On the surface, it's pretty standard stuff," he said. "You know about the commitment to earn $1000.00 a night," he told her as she nodded. "Well, it isn't all just tips and such," he said, explaining even proceeds for club memberships were split amongst the girls.
"The catch is all your benefits, taxes, and other costs are deducted from that amount before it is tallied," he told her. Seeing the puzzled expression, he explained. "It means the cost of all your benefits and stuff are deducted from your daily amount before factoring in how much you earned; you actually have to earn more to make up the difference," he said. "It's like being double taxed."

Seeing her dejected face and the unspoken question in her eyes, he shook he head sadly. "I haven't come up with an exact figure, but it's looking like you need to earn at least $1500.00 a night to make up the difference."

Dan knew how she would take the news, and seeing the despair in her eyes he tried to console her. "Remember, it is not just tips, but everything DSA earns because of you. Hell, who knows how much he is making in advertising with that vending machine you told me about. And he did say there were promotional events. All that gets calculated into your earnings," he tried to comfort her.

Jen looked at him and saw something in his face as she said quietly, "What aren't you telling me?" she whispered.

"The catch is bonuses," he told her. "Apparently accepting a bonus before the year's end resets your earnings," he explained. "So for example, if you earn $20,000 more one month, and accept an early bonus, if you fall short any other month's end you may end up owing twice what you were paid in reimbursement and associated penalties."

"Fuck!" Jen exclaimed as she suddenly remembered the check Mr. DeWight had given her. She told Dan about it, reaching for her purse and showing him the check.

Dan was overwhelmed at the amount of the check, wondering out loud how she could have made that much money in the one week since the purchase of the club. Pulling out his calculator and typing in the numbers, he estimated Jen would have had to have earned over $50,000 this week alone for Chuck to have given her such a bonus.

Hearing the amount Jen's mouth fell open, knowing there was no way she could have earned such an amount in the two nights she had danced—that was almost as much as Dan's salary.

"The contract states both tangible and estimated earnings are taken into account," he told her, "so if Chuck projected you earning more than expected for this month, it explains that amount. The problem is there is less than two more weeks to the month and you are going to the corporate offices next week. If you fall short..." his voice trailed off, both of them contemplating owing so much money.

They both realized this was how the contract could suck a person into debt until they ended up owing more than paid. It also explained how women were made to do things like adult films—Mr. DeWight probably offered those as other ways they could make money to pay back their debt.

Jen was horrified as she looked at the check as Dan reassured her not to worry.

"How can I not worry," she cried out to him. "I had thought to use this towards the wedding, if things don't work out, I may end up owing him more!" she exclaimed.

"It isn't just dancing, though," he tried to console her. "Don't forget the additional advertising," he explained. "The company is allowed to use your image for any advertisements, so any perceived revenue due to advertising with your picture is counted as earned income," he said, although he wondered how well that was tracked. "Also, remember you mentioned the water machine? Who knows how much profit Chuck is skimming from those in one month," he stated to her.

Dan continued to try and comfort Jen's obvious dismay, telling her things would be alright, although inwardly he once again felt his anger soar towards Chuck, wondering how he would get back at his childhood rival once and for all.

For the next few hours they studied the contract. Although the legal verbiage would pass on face value as nothing more than a professional binding of a model to her company, reading between the lines gave both Dan and Jen concern.

The first section of the contract identified Jen, the company, and her generic role.

Divine Silk Attractions, Inc. was stated to be an adult-oriented company specializing in mature entertainment, with multiple subparagraphs defining its holdings within the areas of exotic dancing, acting, and modeling. Another section loosely defined the provision of 'professional services' which gave both Dan and Jen concern; however, on par for the entire contract nothing was specifically identified.

Jen was optimistic, stating since she was hired as a dancer the services probably were dancing. Dan—having read his company's allegations in the financial investigation of DSA—could not help but recall the sidebar comments about pornography and prostitution, but he did voice his concerns, not wanting to trouble Jen further.

The summary of her job simply stated was Jen would perform the duties of her 'vocation'—defined by her major proficiencies and skillset—at various venues, both public and private in representation of the company.

The wording was unusual, and Jen pondered on what her proficiencies were. She knew she was a good dancer, both on the pole and off, so it was likely referring to her exotic dancing. As a dancer she had attended various bachelor parties and such, which were considered private venues, so this clause of the contract did not bother her as much as it did Dan.

There was never any overt mention of exactly what she was obligated to do other than 'fulfilling commitments of a DSA spokesmodel.' There were obvious sections covering modeling and dancing commitments, but these were again defined as 'representation of the employee or her image in person or upon media.'

The section also stated DSA would serve as Jen's 'exclusive personal manager' functioning as her proxy in terms of agent, commissioner, and contractor. In print it looked innocent enough, but as you read the large heap of papers concerning the company's rights towards Jen's 'intellectual property' and highlighted the salient points of each paragraph, the bottom line was the company could ask her to do anything it—in this case Chuck—wanted.

Dan had searched the internet for examples of other modeling contracts, and none of them were so binding. Most stated the manager would 'counsel and advise' the model on job offers, or the model would pay the manager a commission for each perspective engagement—her always having a say on whether she did it or not. Jen's contract had no such stipulations or restrictions on what the company—or Chuck—could ask her to do. In addition DSA received all revenue earned from any appearances—again defined as any representation of Jen in person or other forms of media—not owing her anything until full revenue was earned.

Surprisingly there were also business-oriented duties she was responsible for. For example, surprisingly one of her functions was serving as liaison between all female entertainers and the company. She had been told by Mr. DeWight she was in charge of the 'girls,' but she had assumed he meant at the Satin Kitty, not every DSA club! In essence she was the union representative for them and DSA.

Several sections described her roles in this position, including handling personal complaints, reviewing work logs, organizing DSA-sponsored events, coverage of duties in major events, and being the general go-between for the girls and corporate management.

As with the rest of the contract much of the wording was ambiguous—likely intentional—but Jen understood there was more to her position than entertainer.

Yet as much as they abhorred the contract, the alternatives were much worse. An entire pile of papers on the table was devoted to breaches of contract. Breaking it completely, as was explained by DeWight himself, would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars based upon reimbursement of any projected earnings by the company for which she defaulted on for the remainder of her tenure. Chuck's comment about breaking the contract costing over $200,000 was an understatement.

Included in the pile was the overview of the payment system. Jen received a standard weekly salary as well as bonuses based upon accelerated revenue. The bonus and penalty section comprised the largest section in the pile, covering everything from late showings and non-attendances to poor performances and a vague statement about 'not adhering to the conducts and propriety expected of a DSA spokesmodel.'

As Dan had explained earlier, if she received a bonus for earning more than expected, the rest of the year's expected earnings were reset. In the event she fell short for the remainder of any month after the bonus she would pay the loss in earnings, forfeit the amount of the bonus, and be charged a 25% penalty based upon that month's earnings! The convoluted verbiage left both of their heads spinning as Dan wondered out loud if she would have to accept a bonus merely to pay a previous month's penalty.

They both became more and more despondent in their pursuit to get out of the contract.

At one point Dan suggested opening up to Chuck, revealing his and Jen's relationship in the hopes his childhood rival would break the contract, but Jen again reminded him it was out of Chuck's personal hands, being a contract between her and the corporation, not Chuck's personal whim.

They did not speak of the alternative, of Jen being bound by the contract and doing whatever was asked of her.

Dan had briefly visited the DSA website at Gregg's suggestion, finding it to be a high-end porn site with a monthly fee. From the sample pictures Dan saw the content ranged from classy nude glamour photos to straight porn, to bondage and S&M, as well as sections for other fetishes such as bukkake, gangbangs, and CGI-enhanced fantasy porn. The thought of his fiancée being involved in even the mildest areas of the site was abhorrent.

He also read how brutal DSA was in terms of sharing the content of its site, finding many reports how various sites had used images o DSA models and been completely wiped out from lawsuits from DSA. In fact, it had become such a common practice he read that many search sites completely excluded DSA in fear of accidentally posting media from the site and impinging upon the company's exclusive rights. If Chuck and his company were so relentless in even accidental breaches, he could only imagine how trying to get out of a contract would result.

While the two of them sat and pondered what to do, they were startled by the ringing of the doorbell. As Jen was in nothing but panties and a see-through lace top, Dan got up to answer the door while she remained in the kitchen looking over the various piles of her contract.

A moment later Dan returned. "Uh, it's the cop from last night," he told her to her surprise.

Asking what he wanted, Dan told her he apparently had more questions to ask her.

"Where is he now?" Jen asked.

Dan told her he was in the living room and she looked at him in shock. Asking what the problem was Jen glared at him.

"Hello? Look at me, I'm in nothing but underwear, do you really want me to go out there practically naked?" she asked him.

Dan glared at her as he spat, "It's not like he hasn't see naked you at the club."

"Fuck. You." Jen told.

Dan immediately apologized. "I'm sorry Sweetie, I'm just pissed about this whole situation," he told her.

Jen could understand, as her own reply was also due to their current stress. Their emotions were on a rollercoaster ride this morning, and both of them were frazzled.

Jen needed to cover herself up, but the way to the stairs from the kitchen was through the living room. Inwardly she berated Dan, who should have known better and left the cop to wait in the den, which was off to the side from the front door, but having closeable doors to allow her to go upstairs and change.

As Jen looked at him irritably she saw he was truly was sorry, apologizing to her again saying he had been too flustered seeing the cop at the door to think straight.

They finally gathered their wits and Jen sent Dan to their room to get a robe. She heard Dan speaking to the cop, knowing he was telling him she would be out shortly as she waited for him to bring her something to cover herself with. In a moment Dan returned, handing her a small satin bundle of cloth.

Jen raised an eyebrow as she glared at him. "Did you even think?" she said to him in exasperation, holding up the satin garment.

The robe he had gotten was one of the shortest she owned, a satin half-kimono which barely went past her hips to her upper thighs.

"You always wear that," he told her, his tone apologetic.

"Yeah, when you're here," she told him wondering at the stupidity of men sometimes.

Taking a deep breath, knowing they were both worked up at the current circumstances, she did not argue. Dan was correct, this was one of her favorite robes and she should be happy he at least noticed what she wore. The soft satiny texture was extremely comfortable, making her feel like she was wearing nothing; however, it was not a robe to wear in mixed company, her fiancé being the exception.

Dan asked if he should get something else but Jen just shook her head. He had been right even if she would not admit it, the cop had seen her completely nude. In fact, she had knelt before him naked and sucked him off, swallowing his cum like a common whore, so wearing anything would be an improvement she reasoned.

Putting the kimono-like wrap on, she tied the sash tightly around her waist, the thin material immediately molding to her body like a second skin. The robe left her long legs completely exposed, but covered enough to get by. She knew the back had a plunging lace detail extending down to the middle of her ass, but doubted she would be turned away from the cop for him to notice, again silently berating her significant other.

It could have been worse, she finally reasoned, Dan could have grabbed one of her see-through robes. Unfortunately because of the satin material the sash had a habit of perpetually loosening, causing the robe to gape open—she would have to pay attention and adjust it often to avoid showing herself off to the policeman.

Jen's mind briefly flashed back to the night before as she knelt between the cop's legs naked, her breasts swaying in rhythm to her movements as she swallowed his cock, then tit-fucked him. Her breath caught as she shook the memory out of her mind, retightening the satin robe around her waist and exiting the kitchen.

As Jen entered the living room she could not help but notice the cop's appreciative look at her. Her body heated up at his open appraisal when he rose to greet her, again introducing himself. Apologizing for the unexpected visit, he stated he had a few more questions to ask.

Dan was standing behind her as the cop asked if there were someplace he could speak to her alone. Looking back at Dan who shrugged, Jen told him to follow her as she led him into the den which had two paneled doors, closing them once they had both entered.

"Again I apologize for the unexpected visit," Detective Geiger told her as she turned around to face him after shutting the doors, "but there were a few things I wanted to clarify and discuss outside of the club," he explained.

Once more Jen noticed his open appraisal of her body, feeling her pulse speed up in response. Not for the first time she wondered if her body's sensitivity was due to the after effects of being drugged.

Refocusing on the officer's presence, she told him it was alright, being her day off and having no plans.

"Excellent," the cop told her as he sat down on the loveseat in the middle of the room. Jen sat in the upholstered chair across from him, a small coffee table between them, upon which he placed a small laptop.

Jen could feel the satin robe riding up her hips and again mentally cursed Dan for his selection as she crossed her legs, noticing the officer's gaze on her bared flesh. Glancing down she saw the entire side of her upper thigh and hip was exposed, the tanned smooth muscular flesh drawing the officer's gaze as she asked, "So what can I do for you Detective?"

Jen wanted to get this over as quickly as possible, being uncomfortable sitting across from the policeman dressed as she was. Although she had been a stripper for years and was comfortable with her body, being exposed in her own home was entirely different. She had a certain mindset when at the club—her stripper persona which did not mind, and in fact enjoyed, strangers leering at her body; however, at home with another man looking at her provocatively made her feel completely vulnerable. She knew it had something to do with the idea that while at the club she knew she would be on display before men, while home was her 'safe zone' away from the sleaze and decadence. As such she was uneasy as she sat across from the officer, her body separated from his by barely a tissue's thickness.

Her thoughts again flashed back to the night before as she sucked him off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as her nipples involuntarily harden in response to the erotic thoughts. Knowing how thin the robe was, she leaned forward in an attempt not to flash her headlights at the officer.

All too late she realized her new position gave the officer an unobstructed view down her robe, her cleavage more prominent due to the position of her forearms, pressing her breasts together. Once again she silently cursed Dan for his choice in cover-ups.

To take the policeman's attention from her body, she asked if he wanted anything to drink.

The officer openly smiled and she blushed, recalling drinking from his cock the previous evening. As he told her he was fine, his smile grew and Jen knew his thoughts were on last night's encounter, her body reacting in arousal.

As Jen sat wondering at her body's response, the officer opened and booted up the laptop, thankfully breaking some of the sexual tension.

"I wanted to confirm some things from last night," he told her, once again asking her vital information—where she was born, her date of birth—pretty much repeating what he asked the night before. His voice was the quintessential cop, having little emotion in his tone while his eyes continued to roam across her figure, as if memorizing every inch of her and the slightest movement.

Jen recalled the cop writing all the information in his notepad at the club, so he should have known most of the answers, but she dutifully responded to his inquiries. Watching him type the information into his laptop she wondered if he were merely verifying her answers; then she began to notice a subtle change to the questioning.

Unlike the previous night, this morning he also asked questions relating to the club and her job—how long she had worked there, when Mr. DeWight had bought it, when she met first him, and so forth. It soon became obvious the questions centered on Mr. DeWight, not her.

As she answered the questions Jen could not help but notice the man's continued gaze upon her; although he never paused in his questioning, his eyes roamed across her body, looking at her not as a person but an object, the same leer she saw each night she worked.

The difference was the change in environment. The cop was looking at her as Diamond the stripper, while she was in her 'homemaker' mode as simply Jen Simmons. Regrettably she was too flustered to mentally switch her thought processes, wondering if this were the reason the cop wanted to question her outside of the club—to make her uneasy in the hopes of catching any lies.

As his attention briefly returned to his laptop typing her last reply, Jen looked down realizing her robe had inadvertently spread open, the two halves separating to form a large 'V' down to her navel, the parted halves of the satin revealing her lace camisole and exposing most of her upper torso!
In an effort to cover up, Jen shifted her position, re-crossing her legs and pivoting slightly to the side; however, the movement only caused the robe to open further. If she stood up to adjust it, the robe would be gaped open, not even closed where the sash wrapped around her waist.

Aware of the silence within the room, Jen recognized the officer had stopped typing. Looking back at him she saw his stare had predictably moved from her legs to her chest, the half-opened robe drawing his attention.

She once again felt her skin redden, only no longer in embarrassment, but excitement. Her breath becoming shallow as she wondered what was wrong with her.

She did not want to make a big deal out of being exposed—she was a stripper after all—but she knew if she shifted any more the robe would open completely. Even so, she attempted to discretely reposition the folds and close the front; however, her movements only caused one half of it to slide off her shoulder.

At this point she gave up the battle. Short of standing up and blatantly retying the robe, she was going to have to live with knowing half her body was exposed to the officer. She recalled Dan's statement earlier—the cop had seen her in a lot less—so she let the folds go, resigned to her wardrobe malfunction.

Her mind pre-occupied with her clothing problem, the cop had to repeat his question, "So what are your personal feelings towards Mr. DeWight?"

Jen's attention immediately focused back to the cop, completely forgetting her attire. Looking at the cop, she realized he was no longer distracted by her attire, instead watching her face intently instead of her body.

"If you are asking if I am having a relationship with him, the answer is not only no, but hell no," she told the cop adamantly. "I love my fiancé; and before you go into the whole 'showing off my body to strangers' and 'how I can love him,' it is a job, nothing more. We need the money, and this is what I've done for years and the pay is good," she told him.

His eyes move down to her scantily clad body once more and she knew he was recalling last night as she continued, "And what happened last night? That was completely extenuating circumstances; I don't normally act that way, nor do I typically dance nude. It's just one more thing that bastard has manipulated me into," she told him in the attempt to explain herself.

"So you have no feelings for Charles DeWight?" the officer asked again.

Sensing his full attention on the question Jen spoke the truth, having nothing to hide about her feelings of Mr. DeWight.

"Of course I have feelings for him," she replied. "I despise him, I loathe him, I detest his existence. He has manipulated and coerced me into signing a contract I did not want to sign, has intimidated and pressured me into doing things I would not do under any normal circumstance, including what occurred between us last night, and the bastard pretty much drugged me and raped me," she told him honestly. "In fact, I wish him the swiftest and most expedient trip to Hell as possible," she said vehemently.

The detective was visibly taken aback by her candid reply.

"Do you wish to press charges?" he asked.

He did not seem surprised when Jen told him no. "It would just be my word against his," she explained, not wanting to go into the details of being filmed and even having seen the tape. She agreed with Mr. DeWight's observation about her appearing willing on the tape, too drugged to offer any resistance to his advances.

"Don't get me wrong," she told the officer, seeing his face go back to its stoic demeanor as if he had heard dozens of similar complaints from women too afraid to come forward. "I'm not afraid of the bastard. There just would be no case. Trust me, if there was anything I could do to see that asshole rot in a hole somewhere all his life I would jump at the chance," she told him passionately.

Surprisingly the cop smiled, his grin reminiscent of a child finding a prize in a box of cereal after opening hundreds of boxes and finding nothing.

"So you would not be upset to learn he is under investigation for various crimes?" the detective asked tentatively.

Jen noticed the line of questioning had once again changed. No longer being a rote series of questions about her work at the club, his questioning was more cautious, as if fishing for information. Jen wondered if he still thought she had some hidden relationship with Mr. DeWight as she told him truthfully, "Upset? No officer, I would not be surprised or upset, in fact I hope you find what you're looking for and throw his ass in a cell. I would be celebrating my freedom along with every other girl that bastard has manipulated. What exactly are you getting at?" she finally looked directly at the policeman.

********************

Patrick Geiger stared back at the beautiful, angry woman before him wondering if this was the holy grail of leads or a complete dead end. A DSA spokesmodel not yet under Charles DeWight's rule, who in fact, was pissed off enough at him to not care what she said.

Earlier when she came out of the kitchen in her short white satin robe he had literally lost his breath at her beauty. He had known she was good looking from the night before, but was aware of the magic a club—particularly a strip club—could do to a woman. The dim lights and flashing strobes, combined with quarts of make-up and foundation the girls wore hid all blemishes and imperfections, made the ugliest girl look like a wet dream. Most girls at the club could be ranked an 8 or 9 out of 10 on the stage; however, in normal daylight the same girls barely ranked above a 6.

Not the woman before him. If anything, she was more beautiful in the light of day, her natural beauty unblemished by make-up or poor lighting. She was stunning, as in supermodel material. She had obviously been lounging in the kitchen on her day off, wearing no make-up or dressed to impress, yet she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—her face extraordinary, almost angelic with her natural beauty.

He estimated her to be around 5'8", maybe 5'10", roughly 110-120 pounds; her measurements in the 35-24-34 range, although her large breasts were definitely D if not double D size. As he looked at her figure, he appreciated her muscular legs and arms, as well as her bubble-shaped ass and prominent full breasts.

Admiring her beauty he wondered how he had not noticed it the night before. Then again, he had been focused more on her mouth—or what her mouth was doing to him—to care if she were a beauty queen or not. In truth, for all his training of observation in law enforcement, what he remembered most about last night was his own surprise as he came inside her mouth.

For one thing most working girls did not allow it—and the ones that did quickly spat it out; however, this girl not only swallowed his load, but continued to suck him until he was completely dry. Still, as unusual as that had been, what surprised him most was not her actions but his.

In all the years of being on Vice, he had had his share of blowjobs from hookers, strippers, and even a few housewives intent on saving themselves—or surprisingly their abusive husbands—from being taken into custody. In all those years he had never been able to have a girl finish him orally. In the rare times he had cum, he had been the one tugging his flesh to release on her.

His mind flashed back to cumming in this woman's mouth, his astonishment as he clutched her head, ramming her face into his pelvis as she deep-throated his cock, milking him dry. He felt his dick stirring in response as he reminisced and looked at the beautiful woman in front of him.

Having heard the argument between her and her fiancé in the kitchen, he knew she was not purposely dressed to be seductive; however, she had a body women would die to have, and men would kill for to possess. The short white robe accentuated her body, barely reaching to the top of her thighs and leaving her long muscular legs bare, while the thin material suggestively hid the trim, large-breasted body beneath.

His watched her again struggle with the satin robe, his mind back to the present. The allure in the current situation was the knowledge of her not purposely exposing herself to him, contrasted to her at the club where it was her job. As such, every movement led to him wanting to see more and more of her flesh.

She could not help but notice the way he was looking and Geiger could see her embarrassment, the reaction turning him on even more. He understood what was happening to her, and one of the reasons he had decided to visit her at home instead of the club. Although her occupation was exposing herself to strange men, being in her own home placed her in a completely different mindset, made worse attired as she was before him.

Focusing his attention back to his questioning he almost stopped when he raised his eyes. Her robe was still skewed off one shoulder, but his attention was drawn to the obvious silhouette of her erect nipples against the satin material of the robe, the nubs visibly outlined through the thin fabric. Dreamily he felt the urge to reach out and grab her breasts, to find out if they were fake or man-made as he forced himself to look at her face, asking about her relationship with Charles DeWight.

He once again concentrated on the anger building in her eyes—not at him, but each time he mentioned DeWight's name, wondering if he could be honest with her. From what his research and questioning revealed, he was inclined to believe she would agree with his proposal; however, he needed to know if what she had done last night to him was coerced or not, as a willing informant was better than a reluctant one.

His section chief would have his ass in a sling if he found out what Geiger was contemplating.

********************

Jen noticed the cop's gaze moving down to her chest; in fact, her body involuntarily reacted to the attention as her nipples hardened and her breasts tightened. Finally, licking his lips like he was trying to gain his composure or taste her, he asked her a question that had she been clairvoyant, would know it would change her life forever.

"Would you be willing to help put him behind bars?" he finally asked her. "Or more to the point, as I can clearly see the answer on your face, how far would you be prepared to go to put him in prison for the rest of his life?" he inquired.

As the detective looked at her, all stray erotic thoughts fled from Jen's head, her mind becoming focused like a single laser of light. She recalled Dan's hatred of Mr. DeWight, how the man had purposely made Dan's life hell, lowering his self-esteem and using Dan's kindheartedness to his own advantage. How the same man was ruining their current lives, not even aware of what he was doing, as if he performed such acts of cruelty in the regular course of his life.

He had purposely drugged and seduced her to sign herself into a long-term contract, forced her into dancing nude and permitting her to be groped by customers, and then manipulating her to have oral sex with not just one, but two men.

Dan had said they would find a way for her to break the contract; however, the reality of the situation was she was completely and legally bound to it. She recalled his company's investigative report about the accusations of prostitution and pornography and although they had not voiced it, if Mr. DeWight told her to star in a pornographic movie, she would be legally bound to do it. Morally she could refuse, but the contract was immutable and if she refused, the cost of fines was staggering.

Her despair at being bound by the contract returned; however, she realized there may be an available option to get out of it. If Mr. DeWight was imprisoned she would have a case to get out of the contract without any penalties citing his illegal activities!

Seeing a light at the end of a tunnel, she asked quietly, "What do I need to do?"

"First, I ask that what I'm about to tell you not leave this room, not even to your fiancée," the officer told her as he glanced to the closed doors of the den. "Charles DeWight has been under investigation for several years for various crimes, but each time we think we have enough evidence against him, he figures out what is happening and gets away clean," he told her. "We believe he has a mole in the department or even on our team, so what I am telling you is strictly between you and me," he told her.

Jen asked why she could not talk to Dan as the policemen told her, "We know of your fiancé's past with Mr. DeWight, that they were childhood friends and even roomed together in college. We have also noticed him reaffirming that relationship recently," the cop told her.

Jen laughed, seeing the officer look at her in surprise. "Officer, I can tell you with complete certainty Dan hates Mr. DeWight even more than myself. In fact, this morning he was so angry I thought he was going to do something violent," she explained to the cop. Seeing the doubt in his eyes she told him, "As much as I despise Mr. DeWight, it is nothing compared to the loathing Dan feels towards him. If you would just talk to him, you'll see," she said.

She briefly described how Mr. DeWight and Dan grew up, how Dan had always been bullied; then talked a bit about what happened from what she knew of their college experiences; finally talking about recent events and the complete coincidence of Dan being the realtor for the clubs Mr. DeWight bought.

She left out her own events, other than to say her and Dan had thought it best for Mr. DeWight to not know of her and Dan's relationship.

"Wait a second, are you telling me DeWight doesn't know you two are engaged?" the officer asked incredulously.

Jen laughed. "Hell no, he doesn't even know we've ever even met," she explained.

********************

Patrick Geiger had doubts about the stripper's comments concerning her fiancé's relationship with Charles DeWight. He had done the research on Daniel Jeffries himself. The Jeffries and DeWight families had been close, spending summer vacations together, attending school and recreational functions together; the typical close family friends that were more family than friends. In every picture he could find, both Daniel Jeffries and Charles DeWight III had been together. They had even been roommates in college, and although there was no record of them having contact the last few years, their recent re-acquaintance was highly suspect.

The one thing his team had not been able to explain was why DeWight had bought the club his childhood friend's fiancée had worked and made her the DSA spokesmodel. They had attributed it to being a favor to Mr. Jeffries in some sort of sick, twisted voyeur fantasy; however, as he re-sorted the facts, he was amazed at the actual circumstances.

He once again expressed his doubts as the exotic dancer leaned forward, imploring him to at least talk to her fiancé. Once again his eyes drifted to the robe, now completely opened, his eyes taking in the fleshy mounds of her breasts bulging from a lace top. The right side of the robe which had fallen off her shoulder had slid to the side past her breast and he held back his surprise and excitement seeing the outline of her areola through the lace top she was wearing beneath the robe.

Once again the woman's attractiveness held him captivated as he reluctantly told her he would consider it, but needed to ask her a few more questions. Foremost in his mind was how a man could allow such a beautiful woman to be a stripper. From his investigation he knew Miss Simmons had been a dancer long before DeWight had bought the club.

Voicing his query, the woman leaned back, readjusting her robe to his mixed emotions of disappointment and relief.

"Dan hates that I dance," she explained, "but he puts up with it because we need the money. My parents could never afford college, so while Dan was away, I tried odd jobs waitressing. At first it was in small diners and I earned shit for wages, but then took a job cocktail waitressing at the club. That was about seven years ago and the club has changed names and owners several times, but I came realized my body earned me higher tips than the other girls. Back then we wore different outfits based on a daily theme—racing girls, bikinis, schoolgirl outfits, that sort of thing—and I learned to show off as much as I could for tips. Then one night a bunch of the dancing girls were out sick with the flu and needing the extra money, I volunteered to fill in," she told him. "The rest, as they say, is history," she laughed.

"But again, how does Mr. Jeffries feel about it?" he asked.

"As I said, he hates, it, but it puts food on the table. Dan's paycheck is alright, but his commissions are too spotty to plan anything for the future. We've been saving up to get married and for me to go back to school and find a real job—this wasn't my first choice in careers, but as I said, I make good money. Honestly I enjoy the attention I get, and I think Dan secretly likes the idea that although other men get to look, he is the one I come home to each night," she explained.

Not for the first time in his career Patrick Geiger wondered at what drove some men. Personally he would never allow a woman of his to work at such a club, although he did feel his pulse race at the admission if he had such a beautiful woman as Miss Simmons he would enjoy showing her off. Still, a trend towards exhibitionism did not explain everything he knew about the woman, so he decided to be blunt.

"So why become a DSA spokesmodel?" he asked. "You do realize Divine Silk Attractions is more than just a strip club organization," he told her, "and DSA girls do more than dance."

The woman's face became crestfallen as her eyes watered. His cop's intuition kicked in as he realized he had chosen the right tactic. It was evident although she knew exactly what sort of work was done by girls who worked for the company, she was reluctant to acknowledge it.

"You have not agreed willingly, have you?" he asked quietly, recalling her comments about being drugged and possibly raped.

He handed her the box of Kleenex tissues on the table next to the loveseat, and as the woman took a moment to compose herself, he once again looked her over. If what she said was true and Charles DeWight did not know her relationship with Mr. Jeffries, it made more sense. He and his team had wondered at the acceptance of Mr. Jeffries allowing his fiancée to sign a contract to become not only a porn star, but a highly paid prostitute, assuming it was a fetish thing. Factoring in DeWight not knowing they were a couple, her circumstances adhered more to DeWight's standard MO and she was simply collateral damage, Mr. Jeffries and Charles DeWight's relationship merely circumstantial.

In the years they had been investigating Charles DeWight, they found one common drive from the man—he always got what he wanted by any means necessary. In terms of beautiful women, many worked willingly, the man having a cunning and sharp mind combined with a gilded tongue. After dealing with him last night, Geiger knew DeWight could talk his way through anything; however, if words failed him, there were other methods—which had caught the attention of law enforcement.

Over the years DeWight had perfected his technique of forcing women to do what he demanded if they refused him. Initially it began with threatening and following through with physical violence. There were records of assault and battery cases all over the country with his name on them; however, none of the woman ever testified, and some actually disappeared. Further investigations led nowhere, but it was enough of a pattern to draw the attention of his team.

As DSA became more profitable over the years, DeWight became more devious. Surrounding himself with the best attorneys money could buy, he put the law on his side, binding women with legal contracts, coercing them through blackmail or other means into signing their lives over to him.
There had been several court cases where women had attempted to get out of their contracts, but DeWight had an entire army of lawyers and corrupted politicians at his disposal. In all the cases charges of coercion and blackmail were entirely dismissed due to lack of evidence. His defense cited Divine Silk Attractions, Inc. was an adult entertainment company, and the women had signed the contracts with full disclosure, so there could be no accusations or misunderstanding of their intended roles in the company.

Not content with winning the cases and having the law on his side, DeWight counter-sued for their refusal to work as breach of contract, resulting in the women losing and being left destitute.

If Charles DeWight could not have something, he crushed it.

It was the missing women who were the reason Geiger's task force was assigned to the case. These women never appeared in court and upon follow-up, had completely disappeared. There was never any indication of foul play and in fact a couple women were found months to years later pulling tricks and starring in hardcore pornography—exactly what they had refused to do and had gone to court to prevent. Whenever questioned they would instantly clam up when DeWight's name was mentioned, saying they were fine and the previous accusations were a misunderstanding.

Geiger's team had tried to pursue the legality of the contracts in the hopes of slapping human trafficking charges, but it had been impossible to obtain any copies of the full contract. All had been sealed by the courts and prevented from becoming public record, "to protect both parties' propriety."

In the four years they have been investigating him and his company, every woman they had to deal with was after-the-fact and DeWight had cleaned his tracks. Now here was a woman right before him in the early process of falling into DeWight's devices. He needed to know how she had gotten to where she was before soliciting her aide.

"In order for us to do anything, I need to know exactly what happened, how you were manipulated into signing your contract," he told her.

Reluctantly the stripper described of her first meeting with DeWight, how he had charmed all the girls at the club. Introduced as an investment partner, he had evidently smooth-talked the previous owner—Willie Franklin—into selling the club when the girls did not even know it was for sale.

Geiger had a suspicion Mr. Franklin was as seduced as the girls by DeWight's silver tongue. In fact, knowing DeWight paid the asking price of the club without any haggling he speculated the price had been set by DeWight himself beforehand.

Then the woman talked about more recent events. She described being drugged and seduced into having sex with DeWight, and in the aftermath, signing the contract; how the girls had been told to earn extra money on their day off, again being drugged and acting completely different than normal; and finally finishing with what happened the night before and performing oral sex with him.

"I do want to apologize for that," Geiger told her. "I know the club is wired and DeWight expected it to happen, probably looking for a sleazy Vice officer he could become buddies with. Now that I know the full story, I think he was playing with both of us, the man is a sadistic and clever bastard," he uttered to himself.

"No need to apologize," she told him. "I could have said no, I could have walked away, I chose what I did," she told him, then looked up at his face and said, "And on some level, enjoyed it."

Blood rushed to Geiger's crotch as he looked at her, seeing the truth in her eyes. Moving his gaze lower he saw the robe—bless it's heart, he thought—had opened up again, uncovering her amazing cleavage, the tops of her firm breasts lifted by the tight lace camisole top. Unwillingly his thoughts went back to the night before as his cock slid up and down between those very same breasts, his hands clenching at his desire to again know if they were real or not.

With effort he focused back on his questioning. "Unfortunately, you are correct about pressing charges," he told her grudgingly, "there is little to prove you were coerced into signing the contract, especially if what you say is true and DeWight has the encounter filmed. Too much time has elapsed for a valid drug test, so that is a dead end," he told her sadly.

"But there is at least one avenue to pursue," he told her. "We have never been able to get our hands on any of DSA's contracts, so if you are willing to lend yours, I can have some of our legal experts review it for possible loopholes," he said. Seeing her look of hope, he quickly added, "Mind you I doubt they will find anything substantial. Those contracts have gone before court several times and the cases dismissed," he explained.

"I understand," she told him unhappily.

"We'll do our best," he told her, wanting to give her some hope.

"You said there was a way to put Mr. DeWight in jail?" she asked.

He immediately followed her line of reasoning. If DeWight was imprisoned, there was a possibility of the contract becoming nulled in retribution of illegal activity.

Putting on his interrogator persona once again, he looked at the woman. "You've explained your fiancé's reluctance to you dancing, what about your other performances?" he asked her.

"If you mean what happened between you and me, I confessed to Dan. He knows this was all due to Mr. DeWight and forgives me, although I have yet to forgive myself, no offense," she told him.

"None taken," he told her. "No, what I mean is about the videos you've recently starred in as a DSA spokesmodel?" he asked her.

********************

Jen looked at the officer in bewilderment, not understanding what he was asking. She saw him look at her questioningly, and then began typing on his laptop, turning it around to face her.

At first Jen did not understand what he was doing, until she realized a video was playing on the laptop, music playing in the background. She immediately recognized Gary's voice over the cheap laptop speakers announcing, "I again introduce, Diamond!"

Hearing her name, Jen focused upon the screen realizing it was a video of the club. She finally recognized the song as Madonna's 'Justify My Love' when a bunch of cheers came across the speakers and she watched in horror as, on screen, she got on the stage completely naked, slowly strutting around the pole.

The cop's voice startled her and she looked up at him. "I take it you did not know about this?" he asked.

Jen shook her head, immediately drawn back to the video playing as she watched herself finish a spin around the pole on her knees, crawling across the stage naked, her breasts swaying with each movement, to a group of workers holding up cash.

Jen realized her performance on her day off in front of the workers had been filmed.

"How did you get this?" she asked as she watched herself mimicking fucking the stage.

Her image on the screen tilted back, her breasts tight against her chest as she planted her feet firmly on the stage and lifted her hips, exposing her crotch to everybody. In horror Jen watched as the camera zoomed in on her slit, her labia puffed and glistening from her use by the foreman earlier as the crowd screamed over the cheap laptop speakers.

The cop's voice broke her reverie on the screen. "They are posted on the DSA website. With the investigation going on we have a subscription to monitor all sites owned by the company. This was posted Thursday evening," he told her.

Jen realized it was posted the same night it had occurred, when something else the officer said came to her. "You said," she said, licking her lips from a mouth that had gone dry, "you said there were more?" she asked, looking up at the officer.

He nodded and turned the laptop around. She heard the video stop as the beginning of Evanescence's 'Imaginary' began playing. A part of Jen wanted to watch the video, as the girls had told her it was the best performance she had ever done on the pole; however, she was too shocked at the discovery of being filmed as the laptop back around.

"This one is a bit more graphic," he told her with some reluctance as Jen looked at the screen.

Knowing Mr. DeWight had taped her practice performance, she reasoned this was the other stage routine he had shown her in his office.

Initially the screen was black, but slowly faded into view as Jen looked in surprise at herself sitting down. She was wearing her purple halter, which made her realize this was a tape from within Mr. DeWight's office yesterday!

At first there was no sound, watching in morbid fascination as Mr. DeWight's hands moved to her shoulders. The video was angled to only showing herself, so all you could see were a man's hands massaging her as she watched the hands moved down her arms.

Her image on the screen close her eyes, overcome by the sensation of the man's hands—Mr. DeWight's—as they rubbed her neck and arms, her mind recalling the situation vividly.

Unable to pull her eyes away from the screen, she watched as the hands slid down the front of her top, squeezing her breasts. To Jen's horror she saw the image of herself on the screen lean into the blatant groping. Although she knew her movement was to get away, on the video it looked like she was purposely leaning into his grasp.

Jen's mouth became dry, her heart beating rapidly as she watched her top removed, exposing her breasts to the screen as Mr. DeWight's hands began to knead them, the fatty flesh bulging obscenely between his fingers as he squeezed. Jen could only stare as he conspicuously pinched her nipples, hearing the first sound over the speakers—her gasp and moan of pleasure!

"Why don't I hear him?" she asked to nobody in particular, her mind too focused on what was before her, "he was talking the whole time," she said.

The cop answered, his voice coming to her vaguely, "He obviously dubbed the recording, there is no talking beyond...uhm," he paused as Jen looked up at him and he finished, "beyond a few moans," he said.

In horror, Jen wondered was else was on the video as she reached for his mobile mouse. "May I?" she asked absently.

Before the cop could say 'Yes' she advanced the video. Not unexpectedly, but a shock still the same, the scene showed her on her haunches, sucking Tim's cock. She could only stare as she watched herself deep-throat him, the sounds of her moans easily coming over the music—Fredde Le Grande's 'Put Your Hands Up For Detroit'—playing on the speakers.

Jen watched transfixed as her head turned towards the camera—obviously somewhere on Mr. DeWight's desk—the cock pulling out of her mouth. With her hand stroking it to the side the camera focused on her face as her voice came across the speakers loudly, "I love sucking cock, I love the feel of cock inside me, my mouth, my pussy, everywhere."

"Turn it off!" Jen cried, pushing the laptop away from her and sinking back into the chair.

She sat there in shock, no longer aware of her surroundings as her mind tried to process what she had just learned. As with the video of her and Mr. DeWight, although she knew in reality she had been opposed to the situation, Jen could not deny on the screen she looked to be fully enjoying the experience.

And what Mr. DeWight had made her say! She had been too absorbed in what was happening to think straight, merely repeating what he told her to say, but now she felt hopelessness return to her as she sat in the chair, wondering what had become of her life.

********************

Patrick Geiger realized for the second time today their investigation had followed a wrong tangent. After seeing the videos posted to the DSA website, they had assumed the woman had willingly taken the role as spokesmodel. They had known the stage routines were taken during the club's normal hours, which could have been done without her knowledge; however, the tape she had just seen was of high quality, and they had thought it was a staged scene. He now realized even this filming was done without her knowledge, DeWight recording what he had forced her do.

He felt sorry for her; however, a case was a case and he wanted Charles DeWight behind bars. Not for just what he had done to this woman, but his own personal reasons.

As the woman cried out "Turn it off!" and sank back into the chair, he saw she was in shock by what she had seen, having no previous knowledge of the videos existence.

Although he felt remorse for her situation, as a man he could not help but stare at the barely clad woman before him. Her robe had completely pulled apart, uncovering her half-top lace camisole and matching boy short panties. His eyes were once again drawn to the outline of her areolae through the lace, then moved down to her bare stomach, ending focused on the crotch of her panties where he saw the outline of the thin landing strip of pubic hair.

He had seen her naked, but covered with only half-glimpses of her body now stirred him more than seeing her at the strip club. He recalled the image of her being fucked in the other video he had not shown her, now realizing it had been with DeWight. When his team had first watched it her reactions were of enjoyment, not reluctance as he thought of her breasts bouncing with each thrust. In some sick way he wanted to see that again, only in person as he stared at her in the chair.

Finally his cop intuition kicked in, pushing his illicit thoughts from his mind. This woman could be used to further the investigation, so he told her quietly, "This is what Charles DeWight has done to you without you even being aware. It will only get worse. The contract you signed gives him rights to everything about you. I have seen it before, although you may be reluctant, eventually you will give in. Whether it is due to being drugged, blackmailed, or physically abused, DeWight will not stop until he has his way," he told her.

The woman stared at him. He had seen the look on her face a thousand times, one of shock, incoherency, and bewilderment after a major accident. Yet he knew his words were getting through to her as he continued speaking.

"It is inevitable what is going to happen," he repeated regretfully. "Help us. You are on the inside, you are a DSA spokesmodel so have access to parts of the company we don't even know about," he told her. "We have tried countless times to plant somebody into the company, but they have all been fired for various contrived reasons," he explained. "Obviously their covers had been blown, be we don't know how. You are an outsider. If you can get us any evidence, we may have a way to put this bastard away once and for all!" he told her.

He stared at the woman as she sat in her chair looking at him. Once again he felt his pulse quicken at her sensual attire, his mind again going down a dark path until she said something, breaking his reverie.

"Excuse me?" he asked her.

"This explains the check," she said again.

Asking what she meant, she told him about her bonus check, surprised at the amount. Looking at the Diamond website and the number of hits her videos had received, he nodded. "Actually, that makes sense," he explained. "These videos have over 10,000 followers after only a few days. If any accounts are new, the revenue can be attributed to you. We know the contracts have a generous bonus system, but they can suck you in until you end up owing the company more than you were paid, but this website does gain a lot of subscribers," he told her.

"We need to tell Dan," she blurted out.

Patrick shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to expose their investigation, as well as his cover. He had taken a great risk to involve the girl, if she was wrong and her fiancé was involved with DeWight, years of investigation work would be blown, and the loss of his partner would go unavenged.

"Please," she begged seeing his reluctance. "At least hear him out. I guarantee he hates Mr. DeWight even more than I do, and..."she paused, resigning herself, "and once he sees these videos, although he may hate me, he'll hate Mr. DeWight even more," she told him.

"Ma'am, I am taking a great risk even talking to you. If you are wrong, there are lives at risk in this situation; your own may be forfeit," he told her gravely. "I have seen what Charles DeWight can do, and you cannot begin to imagine what he is capable of," he told her.

"I'm sure," she whispered.

Patrick Geiger felt his resolve dwindle. He would have liked to have said it was his intuition, but there was something about a half-naked woman who had sucked you off the night before pleading with you to break your steadfastness. He knew this woman was on the edge, and reluctantly realized even if he told her no, she would tell her fiancé everything.

With great resignation, he nodded.

As the stripper stood up—absently readjusting her robe—and went to the doors to call in her fiancé, Patrick Geiger mentally kicked himself in the ass several times for not only telling the woman about his investigation, but now involving a POI—person of interest.

Yet as he mentally chastised himself, he could not help but watch the stripper's long legs walking away. He thought it was a shame she was bare-footed, as some white pumps would have complimented her outfit and been incredible. He noticed her robe was laced in the back, dipping low enough to see her lacey short panties before she stepped out of the room, re-entering a few moments later with her fiancé, Mr. Daniel Jeffries.

As the couple sat across from him in the two upholstered lounge chairs, Geiger noted the woman was more at ease around her fiancé, sitting on the chair with her feet tucked underneath her. His stare followed the tanned lines of her folded long legs to her shapely feet resting against the smooth flesh of her ass cheek, exposed due to her current position raising the hem of her robe almost to her hips.

He adjusted his scrutiny from the woman to the man, seeing an average looking guy with a slight balding spot on his crown which would lead to baldness by the time he was in his forties. Absent-mindedly Geiger wondered if the man would end up shaving his head or doing the 'flip over' and growing one side of his hair to comb over the spot. Then again, maybe some Rogaine action would fix it.

Taking a deep breath to sort out the thoughts in his head, he once again went into interrogator mode. He began planning several questions in advance, some seemingly random, in order to not divulge exactly what he was asking; however, looking at the man's nervous face, he decided upon a different tactic, not speaking at all and letting the suspect talk, as such nervousness did not hide lying.

Leaning comfortably back into the loveseat he said to the man, "So tell me about your relationship with Charles DeWight III."

A half-hour later Patrick Geiger admitted silently he had made yet another mistake. He did not admit to making any mistakes very often, let alone so many in a single day. He was characteristically diligent in his research of suspects; often causing others on his team to audibly groan each time he came to a team meeting and said he was still researching a perp. Yet as he listened to Mr. Jeffries talk about his past experiences with Charles DeWight, the law enforcement officer was surprised he had not already arrested the man before him for murder of DeWight.

Geiger had been on this case for a few years now, so he was familiar with DeWight's cruelty; however, even he could not believe the amount of mental torture and debasement Mr. Jeffries had endured for so long. And he knew DeWight thought nothing wrong in the way he treated Mr. Jeffries.

At first he thought Jeffries to be the typical wimp, but immediately changed his mind. Although not muscular, the man was not thin or appeared to be weak in either mind or body. He could have used a few hours a week in the gym, but he was not out of shape, having the typical body of a late-20's man. He also had a sharp wit and intelligence. So it was a mystery why the man had allowed such abuse to continue; however, as Mr. Jeffries talked about his earlier childhood, it made more sense. If DeWight had been controlling and abusive from the very start, even during childhood, it was so ingrained into Mr. Jeffries' consciousness to always allow him his way, it came naturally.
And talk about goddamn coincidences. What were the odds of DeWight buying the club his buddy's fiancée danced at and he himself had brokered!

It made the miracle of finding out DeWight was unaware of Jeffries and the stripper's relationship even more useful.

Now that he thought about it, Geiger understood Mr. Jeffries' detachment last night. When sitting and having his verbal repartee with DeWight, Geiger had been surprised when the stripper—Jeffries' fiancée—had come over and sat in DeWight's lap, who had openly fondled her ass like his own property. The evening now made more sense if the couple was hiding their relationship, and he was amazed at Jeffries' self-control.

Through the whole account given by Jeffries he only asked a few questions, verifying dates, asking full names of people mentioned, and so forth. Reaffirming his assessment he discovered the man had an impeccable memory, able to answer most of his questions regardless of the time frame; then again, the man must have dwelled on how his life had been brutalized by DeWight continuously.

Mr. Jeffries paused after recounting meeting up with DeWight and selling the clubs, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say next.

Geiger looked at the man in question, marveling at the man's equanimity. Not only had he put up with DeWight's mental abuse for years, but he maintained his peace in light of his fiancée's profession, which he obviously did not approve of. The officer knew many men who had ended relationships with exotic dancers due to the jealousy that developed.

When Jeffries began speaking again, Geiger's eyes widened in disbelief, almost falling out of his seat finding out not only had the man known of DeWight seducing Diamond, but had watched the whole thing!

He again marveled at Jeffries' fortitude seeing his fiancée fucked by DeWight and not holding any blame against her. Geiger had watched the video posted on the site, recognizing it immediately as security footage, and there was no doubt—drugged or not—the woman had enjoyed the encounter. He did not know if Jeffries was the biggest pussy he had ever met, or the most patient and forgiving man deserving sainthood—until he looked at the man, seeing the anger within his eyes.

After years in law enforcement, Geiger knew that gaze; it was the look of somebody who had reached their limit. If you saw that look from an armed suspect you took them down without a moment's hesitation. It was the look of somebody who no longer cared about collateral damage, focusing only on his objective; in this case, he guessed it was Charles DeWight's downfall.

As Geiger mentally filed all that happened to Jeffries and the stripper, a plan began to develop in his mind.

He realized he should call her by her name, Jennifer Simmons; however, with his current train of thought it was best to keep her as distant as possible. She was a tool to be used to further his investigation, and he could not concern himself about how she went about it. That did not mean he wanted to see her come to any harm, but there were different degrees of harm, and he needed to worry more about life and death scenarios than morals.

"I would like to once again apologize for last night," he told them both sincerely. "I knew what DeWight wanted to happen, and I assumed the room was under surveillance?" he asked the stripper who nodded. "I did not want DeWight to think there was anything going on but a vice cop letting a stripper off for a freebie," he told them. "I was angling for the 'crooked cop' routine, hoping DeWight would buy it and not see me as a threat, maybe even somebody he could use," he explained.

Diamond nodded her head in understanding, but he was focused on Jeffries' reaction. The man's composure never wavered, even in light of openly discussing his fiancée sucking Geiger off the night before.

Once again the beginnings of a plan returned, specifically using Jeffries' animosity towards DeWight to use as impetus to further his main purpose in coming here today. What he was thinking was as manipulative as DeWight, but with the prospect of the task force being disbanded and kicked off the case due to its lack of progress over the last couple years, the ends justified the means.

"So what is he wanted for?" Jeffries asked suddenly, as Geiger realized it was his turn to 'lay the cards on the table.

He was now completely convinced of both Mr. Jeffries and Miss Simmons' innocence and naiveté in the situation, but they were the only breaks in the case he had since his partner went missing. Realizing at this point he had to trust in his cause, he answered.

"I ask that what I am about to tell you stay strictly between us; if Charles DeWight or anybody associated with him learns the specifics of this investigation, years of work and the lives of several people—my own partner's included—will have been in vain," he told them seriously. "Charles DeWight—along with several of his associates—is under investigation for numerous transgressions including organized crime, fraud, tax evasion, drug trafficking, human trafficking, sexual assault, rape, extortion, racketeering—the list is pretty extensive," he told them, "including suspected murder."

Geiger saw Diamond's eyes grow wide as he listed the crimes DeWight was currently under investigation for, once again looking at the beautiful woman's figure. While they had been talking her robe had once again fallen open, again appreciating the swell of her breasts covered by the lace camisole top.

He continued speaking, trying to take his mind off the sexual fantasies in his mind as he beheld the woman.

"As you understand, these charges are not something a local vice cop would be involved in. Although my real name is Patrick Geiger, my title is actually Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation," he told them, pulling out his real badge and showing it to them. "Obviously that information is classified, as my cover as a vice cop needs to hold. It was a last ditch effort to try and find some lead before my superiors closed the case," he said dejectedly.

Seeing both of their questioning faces, he continued. "This case has been open for over four years, and although the accusations keep piling up, the evidence has gotten us nowhere. As I mentioned to Di—uh, Miss Simmons," he quickly corrected himself, "every time we get close enough to stick some charge on DeWight, he slithers away like a greased pig.

"After years of man hours, covert surveillance, money, and unfortunately lives lost, my superiors are being pressured to categorize this as a cold case, ending current investigations and only reopening it if something relevant comes to light," he told them. "I suspect DeWight has his fingers even in the Bureau," he confided. "Which is why the investigation became classified after my partner's disappearance," he explained. "Other than those of my team and high level directors, nobody in the Bureau is aware of what it going on."

Seeing the inquiry in their faces he said, "Charles DeWight is not a man to be taken lightly. My partner went undercover as a dancer at another one of his clubs," he told them, looking directly at Miss Simmons. "Although she could not get corporate access, our interest focused on that particular club, rumored to be involved in DeWight's Ecstasy trafficking. All we can fathom is her cover was somehow blown and she was removed from the equation," he said tightly, trying to keep his emotions in check as he thought of Rachel, the pain in his chest still too recent. "She went missing a year ago and has not been heard from since. She is considered 'missing in action' and presumed dead, although her case, combined with this investigation, will remain open," he told them, "the task force will no longer be actively pursuing it."

"You think DeWight murdered her," the woman said quietly, her eyes wide.

Geiger nodded, "If not him, somebody in his employ, but not without his knowledge," he told them. "Never underestimate the man; there is not one thing that goes on in any club or concerns anything about DSA that DeWight is not aware of, which is why we have not been able to get another person into a position to work the case," he said, looking at the woman before him, "until now."

"Wait, what does Jen have to do with this?" Dan asked. "You can't just have her waltz up to Chuck and get whatever evidence you need," he said exasperated. "You yourself said it's dangerous, and you haven't been able to find anything in years, so why bother?" he asked.

Knowing there was only one way to get through to the man, he played his one and only trump card, looking sternly at Mr. Jeffries.

"Let me tell you the reality of the situation," Special Agent Geiger said, the frustration of several years of dead ends building upon his conscious. "Your woman right there is going to become a porn actress. You want to know who is responsible for that?" he said, his voice getting louder, "Charles DeWight. She will be made to fuck and suck any swinging dick he picks for the sole purpose of making money. He will sell her body to the top dollar, and he will keep doing it until she either is worn out, gets diseased, or he grows tired of her," he told the man sitting across from him. "He has done it to every girl he has ever had a fancy towards, and he will do it long after she is used up," he said adamantly.

As Jeffries opened his mouth to say something Agent Geiger held up his hand, interrupting him, "No, let me finish. You think you had it hard watching her strip in front of a group of strangers? Imagine her being forced to fuck them. Charles DeWight does not care about her, about you, nor has any morality you and I hold. He will do it to her, he will do it to other women, and he will keep doing it," he told the man forcibly. "There is nothing, and I repeat NOTHING that we can do about that, whether you agree to help or not. What you can do is help put DeWight away in a cage somewhere for the rest of his life, allowing her to be free of her contract and free of the bleak future ahead of her," he said.

"We can find a way out of the contract," Jeffries replied as Geiger shook his head.

"Trust me, many have tried, and they have ended up worse than when they started; destitute, some missing, others forced to make money doing worse things than they had been made to do to begin with," he told him. "Charles DeWight does not merely win against opposition, he crushes it," he said.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself a bit before continuing. "I have promised to have our legal department look over the contract, but do not hold your breath," he told him, offering some hope to the bleakness he described.

"In the meanwhile, if nothing is done DeWight will win. It may take threats, it may take blackmail, or he may end up drugging your woman enough times it won't matter, but your fiancée is a DSA spokesmodel, which in Charles DeWight's world means his own personal slut to do as he pleases," he told him emphatically.

"Is what I'm asking it dangerous?" he said to both of them. "Hell yes, but regardless of any danger, the outcome and what will come to pass for her because of DeWight will be the same. I am offering the only possible way out," he told the man.

Geiger felt awful seeing the faces of the couple before him. He had completely crushed any hope they had held, but he had only stated the truth which they had already considered. It was why he needed to distance himself and not think of the woman as anything else but an informant. There was nothing he could do to help her beyond shortening her suffering.

The inevitability was truth; bad things happened to good people, and as long as he had been in the Bureau—and before that on the police force—you could not make it go away. In the end, you considered your job successful if you could merely ease or shorten the torment of others.

"What makes you think I will be of any use?" the woman asked, drawing Geiger and Jeffries' attention. "What can I do that your partner, a trained FBI agent, could not do?" she asked.

"For one thing, you'll have access to DSA corporate buildings. What we learned while Rachel was undercover was DSA spokesmodels have carte blanche to most buildings and areas across the country. Every DSA employee is given a key card which grants them access to buildings and rooms pertinent for their job. Apparently DSA spokesgirls are given access to every facility in the case of any spur-of-the-moment engagements," he told them, not going into any detail on what those engagements entailed.

"You may find something we never could in a single club," he told her. "I am not asking you do to anything to jeopardize your welfare, just asking you to keep an eye out for something, anything," he pleaded to her, "and let us know about it."

"What about Dan?" she asked.

"The fact DeWight doesn't know you two are a couple is a bonus in light of the animosity between him and DeWight, as he cannot use it against you. We can relocate Mr. Jeffries to a safe house until we can find a way to help you out of the contract," he told them. He did not tell them if there was no eventual progress they would both be left at DeWight's mercy.

"No," the woman asked leaning forward, drawing his attention back to her revealing attire, "I mean Dan can help," she said.

Her fiancé looked at her in surprise, "Tell me you're not going to suggest what I think you are?" he asked.

The stripper shrugged, causing her breasts to quiver up and down pulling the agent's attention to her chest. "Mr. DeWight offered you a job, what if you take it?" she asked.

Immediately Geiger's attention was drawn away from the succulent flesh as he looked at her in surprise. "He did what?" he asked, completely taken off guard.

"Dan was offered a job by Mr. DeWight. At the time we both laughed it off—like Dan would ever do anything for him, but now..." her voice trailed off, looking at her fiancé.

"What kind of job?" the agent asked, clearly intrigued.

"Chuck asked me to be the DSA broker-slash-realtor," he told him. "Apparently his old one was caught stealing from the company or something and was fired," he said.

"Oh, I'm sure he was fired," the agent replied, "the question is by what caliber."

"You don't mean he was killed!" the woman exclaimed as he nodded.

"We have been wondering for several months what had become of Emery Phelps, the previous broker. We figured he had been removed from his position, just not the circumstances around his disappearance. It figures the greedy slime-ball was skimming from DSA and got caught, guess the branch chief wins that bet," he told them abstractedly.

"What exactly did DeWight tell you," the agent asked, his mind working overtime at all the sudden information falling into his lap at this visit.

Jeffries thought a moment before answering. "Well, he said he needed somebody to help buy properties, and he respected my judgment based on how I handled brokering the two clubs. The bastard said he could trust me, having known me for years," he laughed in sarcasm. "The arrogant ass actually thought I would agree," he said.

Diamond reached out and held her fiancé's hand and looked at the agent. "What if Dan accepted. He would also have access to records and such, right?" she queried.

Geiger slowly nodded, absently stroking his two-day-old beard. "Yes. Actually Emery Phelps shadowed DeWight most of the time when at corporate headquarters. It was only when he was traveling to scout out possible new clubs they were separated. In fact, if Mr. Jeffries were willing, we would be able to infiltrate any new clubs before they were even bought!" he exclaimed, the prospect obviously exciting him as he explained to the two civilians. "In the past we have never been able to place taps in the clubs," he told them. "DeWight is very careful, only hiring his own contractors for repairs and renovations whom he has used for years. One of the first things done when he buys a new property is removes any previous wiring or surveillance and installing his own. If we knew of purchases beforehand..." his voice trailed off as he thought of the possibilities.

"If we were to agree," the woman asked, "would the investigation still be closed?"

The agent shook his head. "Not closed, categorized as a cold case. But to answer you, no, a case is labeled cold only if there are no new leads or an ongoing operation, and then only after a long period of time. The last lead we had was over a year ago when Rachel—my partner—disappeared. We could not follow up on it as it would jeopardize our investigation getting involved. We had to let the local police handle it. As expected, the investigation went nowhere," he said dejectedly. "Nobody spends much time on a missing stripper with a past history of substance abuse—even if that history was only a cover, we could not let them know our interest," he told them.

"Since then every lead has been a dead end," he continued. "If we had two people involved with the company working with us, that would buy us some time," he told them, becoming excited at the possibility.

Finally as if reaching a decision, he asked them, "So I asked you this once before, but now I repeat it to both of you, how far are you willing to go to put Charles DeWight behind bars for the rest of his life?"

The couple looked at each other for a moment before Mr. Jeffries asked, "Do you mind if we have a moment?"

The FBI agent nodded his head. "This is not a decision to be taken lightly," Geiger told them, "so take your time. I need to check in anyways," he told them, waving to his laptop.

"You can stay here," the dancer told him, "we'll be in the living room," she said as they exited.

Before the doors to the study closed, he heard Mr. Jeffries' voice as it faded away, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

********************

Jen did not reply to Dan's outburst until the study doors were closed and they had entered the living room. For once she was the composed one, Dan the one frazzled. Just like this morning when she had woken up, she was resigned to her fate, a calm detachment overcoming her.

The cop—or agent she corrected herself—was right, there was little chance of finding an out from the contract. She had little hope of the FBI's legal department finding any loophole to her advantage, not after hearing of all the other court cases where women had tried to get out of theirs.

And he only confirmed what she already suspected, somehow, someway, Mr. DeWight would crush her resistance, force her to comply with her contract and give her body to anybody he wanted. He had already proven it was possible, seducing and fucking her the first night he owned the club. As if hammering his will into her she had again complied with his demands, ending up dancing and being felt up by his contractors on her day off practicing. She had again followed his command sucking off Tim, and on the same day did the same to the man in the other room.

It was only a matter of time, and if the videos were any evidence, maybe she had already succumbed. She would still fight it, but in the end, she was resigned Mr. DeWight would overcome her rejection and coerce her into doing exactly what the agent had said, be a DSA slut for hire.

Jen had been thinking about it all day, and the agent only verified her assumptions. Her only way out was helping find something to put him away, thereby making her contract null and void.

Silencing any further comment from Dan, she calmly explained her reasoning. Whether she helped the agent with his investigation or not, what would happen to her remained the same; as much as they wished to deny it, she had signed a contract firmly entrenching herself into the adult entertainment industry.

Resigned to the outcome, she realized she was also resigned to something she had convinced herself was inevitable as well. Although she had a brief moment of happiness this morning, the truth was she was losing Dan. No man could put up with what she was now sullenly accepting.
"We can go to Chuck," Dan told her reluctantly. "If he knew we were engaged maybe he'd break the contract," he said, again suggesting the impossible.

"You know that won't work," Jen replied. "He may be a conniving bastard, but I know he was honest when he said it was now a company document. The agent said almost as much to me earlier," she told him resignedly.

She knew Dan was grasping for straws, but she had already done the same earlier. She was further along in her resignation and he would figure it out soon.

"I'll understand if you want to call off the engagement," she whispered quietly, not able to look at Dan any more for fear she would burst into tears. "I know how stressful it has been for you letting me dance, and you have been a godsend to put up with it, but I understand if what is going to happen to me pushes you away once and for all," she said dejectedly.

"Hey," he whispered, placing his hand on her chin, lifting her gaze to his. "I told you this morning that would not be happening. Somehow we will deal with it, we'll get by. And you are right, if the only way out of this is to help put Chuck away for life, I'm all for it," he told her. Looking into her eyes, he told her, "I said I would do anything and everything to bury him for what he has done not only to me over the years, but to you in the last week," he voice faltered. "I...I just didn't think it would mean putting you in harm's way as well," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry Jen," he told her.

She told him this was more her fault than anybody's. "If I had been able to say no in the first place and not signed the contract, not slept with him...this would never have happened," she told him, her eyes watering.

"Hey, none of that," he chided her, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this together, understand?" he asked her.

Jen refused to meet his eyes as she nodded, until he once again lifted her gaze to his. Leaning forward he kissed her gently, the kiss turning into something urgent as their tongues began to intertwine.

Jen felt her body flood with desire. Her hormones had been on a rollercoaster ride all day between her desire for Dan and the suppressed thrill of the agent looking at her lecherously. Even though he had tried to hide his gaze she had caught him staring at her body several times. Even her thoughts raised feelings of desire, as thinking about what had happened to her this past week had caused her body to become aroused.

Now with her lover kissing her, she felt her entire body ready for him, the flush between her legs dampening her panties in anticipation to receive him.

Dan's hands slipped beneath her robe, wrapping around her bare waist as he clutched her ass, pulling her against him. She could feel his erection nestled against her pelvis and knew he was just as aroused.

Then she remembered the detective—special agent—in the next room as she broke away from their embrace. "So we're agreed to do this?" she whispered to him as he nodded. "Then let's go," she told him, as they walked back to the study.

********************

Special Agent Geiger was just signing off from his connection on his laptop after chatting online with his supervisor, who was not a happy man. Geiger knew when he communicated to his branch chief his decision to recruit Miss Simmons he would get an ass-chewing, but after relaying the involvement of Mr. Jeffries, a known person of interest, the shit really hit the fan.

He looked over the saved text yet again.

>>What the fuck gives you the right to make such a judgment call to place four years of investigation in jeopardy?

>>Four years of nothing you mean...you said yourself the case was about to turn cold.

>>We made a mistake, he is no longer a POI, and is in fact willing to help

>>Bullshit. This is about Rachel, and you are too blind to see the truth.

>>Rachel is dead, buried in a hole along with Emery Phelps. This is about jumping at the only lead we have had in over a year. TWO leads now! I WILL take full responsibility, but we were wrong on several accounts for both the stripper and her fiancé. After you read my report you'll agree

>>Damn you Pat, I should have taken you off this case when Rachel disappeared, and now I'm paying for it.

>>Sam, trust me, just read the report. It's a bit raw, as I only had these last 10 minutes to compile it, but you'll agree. I want DeWight as much as anybody, but my judgment is not impaired by it.

>>You're telling me the boyfriend is willing to let his girlfriend fall into the porn industry without second thoughts?

>>I know it sounds farfetched, but the bastard watched DeWight fuck her on a surveillance camera and is still by her side. He's a cold son-of-a-bitch, but I don't think he'll be a problem.

>>"Don't think" Damnit Pat, we need proof. I need to know the bastard won't cave in the first time his girlfriend spreads her legs for the camera. And shit, how do we even know she'll do it. You were right it is inevitable, DeWight is a fucked up bastard, and one way or another, she'll end up doing it, but we're relying on a couple of civvies here. If one or either of them baulk...

>>We need to be certain

>>What do you want me to do, do her in front of the boyfriend? :p

He had added that last statement as a joke, his blood running cold at the quick reply from his branch chief: .

>>Just push them, see how far they'll go. My guess is you won't have to go that far, but Christ, we need to know their commitment. I'll bet if you just mention it you'll have your answer...

The conversation was pretty much over by then, but he reread the entire thing in his cache over again. "Push them," his chief had said, how the hell was he going to accomplish that, he wondered.

His mind made light of the insanity—"Hello, I need you to work for the FBI, but first I have to fuck your girlfriend in front of you to see if you don't mind."

There was a conversation for the books, he thought to himself.

His thoughts were interrupted as the doors to the study opened, the couple walking in holding hands. They did not even need to speak for him to know their decision; both had the resigned faces of people knowing they had little control of their fate, accepting it, but not necessarily liking it. But he did not need them to like it, he reasoned, just do it.

Once again his eyes were drawn to the stripper; staring at her bare feet as he once again pictured her in white heels, moving his eyes up her lusciously toned legs to the white satin robe around her. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked at her chest, seeing the outlines of her nipples clearly through the thin material.

He wondered what had gotten her aroused as Mr. Jeffries broke the silence asking, "So what do we need to do?"

Geiger's mind kept repeating his chief's comment, 'push them' he had been ordered. If one of them were a junkie, he would string them out or tantalize them with a rock. Greedy types you gave a nice watch or in major cases with approval, a new car. How the hell was he going to do this?

As he looked at the beautiful exotic dancer he recalled how reserved she had been keeping her robe about her and her comment to her fiancé earlier in the kitchen. He remembered his earlier thoughts on how simply the change of venue could put a person off their guard—which was the reason he was interviewing them today in their home instead of downtown or in the club. If she were a housewife or somebody more naïve, simply having them strip for him in their own home would be enough; however, this woman had been a stripper for several years. It would not take long for her to mentally shift into that mindset. He needed to go further.

His cock twitched in his pants as he thought of plans to verify if she were willing to accept DeWight's intentions for her. He needed to push her farther than what she was used to in order to determine if she would accept the consequences.

As she bent to sit down in the chair across from him he once again caught a glimpse of her firm breasts, recalling his earlier thoughts wondering if they were real or not. Maybe he could suggest groping her; however, he dismissed that thought as well. He had watched her groped and felt up just last night at the club, so that would not necessarily be out of her element either.

The biggest question on everybody's mind was if she would submit to the demand of a stranger having sex with her. Although he did not plan on going that far, neither she nor her fiancé needed to know his true intention. All he needed to do was push them enough to believe that was what would happen and gauge their responses accordingly.

His chief was right, if they freaked out at the wrong moment it could jeopardize the entire investigation, or at the very least, their well-being.

As the couple settled in their upholstered chairs, the formulation of a plan developed in his mind as he told them, "My branch chief is not convinced this is a good idea," he told them seeing their faces look at him in surprise.

Absently Geiger noticed the woman had sat in the chair somewhat sideways, crossing her legs, his pulse quickening as her entire tanned leg was exposed to him. Mentally and morally he was opposed to what he was about to do; however, his training overrode those feelings, and his body was definitely willing—his male instinct aware he would be getting a cheap thrill out of pushing her.

But he was not a criminal or animal. If she said no or showed reluctance or fear, he would stop. This was not a coercion technique to threaten her with non-consensual sex, but to see if she would actually consent.

It was the man he needed to watch, recalling the look in Jeffries' eyes earlier. Geiger needed to be careful how far he pushed him, as he was still an unknown in the equation and was at the end of a long rope.

"What's the problem?" Mr. Jeffries asked.

"He questions your resolve in this situation. As I mentioned before, my own partner disappeared a year ago as if she never existed. One mistake or slip of the tongue and the situation could turn dire indeed," he told them. "I explained your hatred and loathing towards Charles DeWight, but my branch chief is not convinced on how committed you will be," he told them.

"I want to remind you all that is happening is because of DeWight. He seduced your fiancée—and it doesn't matter if he knew she was engaged to you or anybody else—and treated her like a piece of meat. He has continued to sexually abuse her, forcing her to have oral sex with strangers, be groped, and do things against her nature. I understand your frustration, as does my chief, so he isn't convinced you won't eventually break," he told Mr. Jeffries.

"I know fucking Chuck is the cause of this," Mr. Jeffries told him irritably, "and no, I don't know what I'll do if I see Jen having sex with somebody. I almost lost it when I saw her with DeWight. I honestly don't know how I'll feel if...or when," he added reluctantly, "it happens again," he admitted.

"That is exactly what my section chief fears," Special Agent Geiger calmly told the man. "Everything happening in your lives is due to Charles DeWight's interference. If you ever have any doubt to your resolve, you need to focus upon his involvement in your lives and your resentment towards him," he explained.

"In one sense, Diamond's contract obligation is easier," he said. "Not that her having to spread her legs for anybody DeWight sends to her is not difficult, but as a woman, she can fake it easier," he told them callously, purposely trying to shock them, to break their resolve.

Seeing both of their astonished faces he said, "I'm not saying it is easier in terms of what she'll actually be doing, as the self-esteem and mental chastisement will be unbearable; however, even in the Bureau we recognize women are better covert operatives than men. Unfortunately men let their emotions get in the way, particularly their rage, whereas women are more able to sequester those emotions," he told them. "The last thing we need is for DeWight's new property broker to go ballistic over a porn star he doesn't know for her doing her job," he told them.

"Well, that won't happen if I'll be looking at properties," Mr. Jefferies said, as if not being present while his fiancée had sex with strangers was more acceptable.

"I'm afraid that will not be the case for a while," the agent told them. "DeWight's closest staff members are typically with him at most events, and being new, there will be a ramping up period where he will want to keep you close so you learn what he looks for in a property. These two recent clubs are the first DeWight has purchased in almost two years, so there may be some time before he has you searching another property; the chance of you being in the same vicinity is actually higher than being sent away," he told the man grudgingly.

"So what do you suggest?" Mr. Jeffries asked.

Special Agent Geiger looked over at Diamond whose eyes were wide as she looked at him in understanding.

"As I explained previously, no matter how reluctant either of you are, the inevitable will happen. If you are to work for DSA as well, the question is how you both will react. No matter how much she resists, her contract is binding and until we can find a way out of it, there is little the authorities can do. It would be less shocking and even safer if you conceded and resolved yourselves on what will occur. I'm not saying to willingly accept what will happen; however, it's dangerous to push back too much and possibly suffer even more severe consequences," he said, still staring at the stripper.

"It's best to know what your reactions will be sooner than later," Geiger said.

"I still don't..." Mr. Jeffries started to say as his fiancée interrupted him.

"He is trying to politely say he's been ordered to fuck me in front of you, to 'test' our resolve, isn't that right detective Geiger?" she asked bluntly.

"What!" her boyfriend exclaimed, his facial features suddenly comprehending what Geiger had been easing towards.

"I'm afraid she is correct," Agent Geiger admitted finally, not bothering to correct the woman's use of title. There were some in the Bureau who insisted their 'Special Agent' title be used at all times, but he never had that big of an ego. Besides, he reasoned, it was better if she was used to calling him detective instead of slipping and alerting DeWight's people who he really worked for.

"I've been asked to test your resolution and that the two of you will not baulk or jeopardize your own or each other' safety, to see if you really are committed towards working for the Bureau," he told them finally.

"I can't believe this!" Mr. Jefferies exclaimed again. "I thought the FBI was supposed to serve and protect," he said. "Now you're trying to coerce my fiancée to have sex with you, while I watch?" he stated exasperatedly.

"I am not coercing you to do anything," the agent told the excited man, sadly admitting his branch chief may have been correct. Jeffries was clearly opposed to this and was a threat to the investigation.

To be 100% certain, he continued, "I am merely stating the facts," he told them holding up his hand. "First," he said, holding up one finger, "your fiancée, like it or not, has signed a contract to star in pornographic movies. She is not going to be some extra used on a set as a prop, she will instead be the star of the film, having blatant, unadulterated sex with at least one, if not multiple guys at a time," he said crassly. "Stripping was amateurish, her body is now in the big leagues, so if you had a problem with her just taking off her clothes, what she'll be doing now is even worse," he reasoned to the man. "Every man who has a credit card is going to see her body, going to see her suck other men's cocks, going to watch her get fucked by them. The films will have close-ups of her getting facials, getting screwed, and who knows what else," he told the man sternly.

"The next fact is, it will happen," he told the man holding up a second finger. "No matter how much she pushes back, no matter how reluctant she is, no matter what either of you say or does, it will happen. Charles DeWight is a manipulative, persuasive bastard who will do anything to get what he wants. And as I told you before," he warned them, "what he cannot have, he will destroy. If Miss Simmons pushes back too much, at the very least he'll take her to court for breach of contract, and I've already stated the worse-case scenario.

"The final fact is, if you accept DeWight's offer to work for him, what will happen to Miss Simmons will at one point be in front of you, and you yourself admitted you did not know how you would act. Any sign of recognition and DeWight will use that against both of you; anything you do negatively will have consequences. We cannot afford any harm to befall you or Miss Simmons," he told them.

"And you consider fucking my fiancée against her will no harm?" the man exclaimed.

Special Agent Geiger noted the woman remained quiet; confirming his suspicion earlier it was the man who needed convincing.

"I am not going to force her to do anything against her will. If she consents, it is merely to determine if you both have the resolve needed to pursue this endeavor," the agent told them. "And if she says no, nothing happens. We all go our separate ways and DeWight is free to do whatever he wants," Geiger told him, letting the finality of that outcome hang in the air.

"But I will tell you this," he continued. "If she says no to DeWight, he will not care one fucking bit. She is a profit to him and nothing more. Whereas I will accept no as an answer, he will not, even if he has to force her," he said.

Looking over at the stripper, he apologized for his crudeness, but she shook her head. "No, you are right, and I know Dan feels the same way," she said, reaching out for her fiancé's hand once again. "It's just, well..." she let her voice trail off.

"Wait a minute," Mr. Jeffries exclaimed, "You don't mean to go through with this, do you?" he asked her.

"The officer is correct," the stripper told her fiancé, once again misclassifying his job. "Did Mr. DeWight leave me alone after saying no to him for months? Did he not drug me, seduce me, and even fuck me? Do you think I consented to that," she told him irritably. "Do you think now that he has me by the proverbial balls he's going to hold back? He had me suck off a goddamn bartender, Dan, and he filmed it, and then put the goddamn thing on the internet," she yelled.

"Wait? What?" the man asked, taken aback.

As the woman looked at him and motioned to the laptop, Patrick Geiger logged back into the DSA website and navigated to Diamond's homepage. Knowing Mr. Jeffries had already seen the surveillance footage of DeWight having sex with his fiancée, he chose the link marked "Diamond sucks a co-worker for a job well done!" He let the video load a minute before jumping to the middle.

********************

Jen did not bother to look at the laptop as she heard Benny Benassi's 'Satisfaction' playing on the cheap speakers; her eyes were only on the man she loved, gauging his reaction.

After their return from the living room, Jen's calm demeanor never wavered, her awareness and determination to try and accept what was to become of her unwavering. The agent was correct, there was nothing anybody could do, and no matter how much they fought it, what they had assumed may happen, would happen.

It was not like she had never had sex when she did not want it before, recalling a time when Dan had been in college and she had worked at a diner. She had gone out a few times with one of the short-order cooks—Todd Harris—thinking him a nice guy. One date they ended up smoking weed in an abandoned warehouse.
Things had gotten intimate, when suddenly one of the guy's friends, Justin something-or-another, had shown up. Jen had not wanted to stay, but had ended up having sex with both of them all night on a dirty mattress, her body used repeatedly until she had passed out, waking up naked and alone. She had not been forced, and she had not said no, so it had not been rape—but she had not wanted it to happen and it had.

In truth, every man she had dated had ended up having sex with her when they wanted to, not when she was ready; she was just too timid or malleable to fight it.

Except for Dan. Dan had been patient, Dan had never pushed her, and when they had first made love, it had been her choice. And that was what it came down to, wasn't it, she thought. When she lay with Dan, she was making love to the person she chose. Others she had been with had merely fucked her, a physical use of her body. She even enjoyed it eventually, but it lacked substance compared to what occurred between her and Dan.

Over the speakers she heard another sound, the repetitive noises of "gachk...gaachk...ackth" coming over the sound. In repulsion she realized the officer was showing Dan the video of Tim deep-throating her, the sounds being those of his cock ramming into the back of her throat repeatedly as he fucked her mouth.

She still had her eyes on Dan instead of the video, watching as his eyes flared, but otherwise showed no emotion. Jen was about to leave the room when Dan squeezed her hand. He glanced at her, his lips mouthing the words "I love you" as she lowered her gaze, not feeling worthy of his love.

She heard the agent speak to Dan. "This is how Charles DeWight treats women. This is not just your fiancée he puts this through. Although there are some women who accept such treatment, the one's that do not are still forced. And there is the issue Mr. Jeffries," the officer told Dan. "Free will is fine and dandy if it works in his favor, but Charles DeWight does not care if it doesn't, he exploits women for profit. Whether it is through pornography, strip clubs, or other sexual vocations, he cares little for the woman, her feelings, or those of her loved ones."

The sudden utterance of "I'm cumming!" from the laptop drew all of their attention.

Jen watched the scene, showing her face with her eyes half-lidded, her mouth wrapped around Tim's cock. As she stared at the video she saw Tim pulled out of her mouth, his shaft covered with her saliva and shining in the light as he began ejaculating on her face. All of them watched as Tim milked his cock onto her cheek, the white fluid rolling and dripping off her chin.

In morbid fascination she watched her lips open and Tim guide his cock back into her mouth. Jen knew she was actually about to say something at that moment; however, on the video, it looked like she had eagerly accepted his phallus.

She could only stare as she cleaned off his cock while groaning in response, before he pulled it out from between her lips, a loud suctioning sound coming from her. Jen continued to watch transfixed as her image looked at the camera, amazed at the amount of sperm on her face.

She figured the video was over, but it did not fade to black. Then she watched in horror as Diamond on the screen began to smear Tim's cum over her body, the camera zooming out as she spread it across her breasts, her stomach, her arms, even her legs. It was not until the video showed her naked body to the world covered in cum before it finally ended.

The agent left the laptop sitting on the table as he said, "You know, I know, and Miss Simmons knows that was not her or how she normally acts. That was what Charles DeWight creates, distributes, and forces people to do," he finished.

Jen was still amazed at her calm acceptance which had come over her this morning. The scene on the video had caught her by surprise, but having lived through it once, it was easier to watch. The cop was correct, this was inevitable and she had to reluctantly accept what would happen. This video was only the beginning.

In the silence of the room after the video ended she asked the agent, "If Dan says no, you will stop, won't you?" feeling as if she were disembodied, another person speaking.

"I'm not a bad person Miss Simmons," the officer replied. "Of course I will stop, I won't even suggest it again if either of you say so," he told them both. "This is to test if either of you can accept what will happen, not force or coerce you into doing something you refuse. Just say the word and I will leave you both alone," he told them.

Jen nodded and looked at Dan. She could see the resolve in his eyes, as well as a mixture of other emotions—love, fear, sadness. "I'm willing to do this if you are, but you need to be honest. If you cannot handle it, just say so," she told him.

Dan said nothing, his jaw firmly set. Jen knew that was the only acceptance she would get. Realizing she needed a moment to herself, she looked at them both, "I need a moment to freshen up, if you'll excuse me?" she said.

The agent told her to take her time as she got up to leave the room.

As she reached the doors, she looked back at the agent, asking, "Is there anything special you like?"

The agent looked at her in surprise as he finally looked down, as if suddenly shy as he said, "I'm a leg man," he said, looking up at her, "so have been wondering what you would look like in white heels," he confided.

She nodded, turning to leave. Right before she stepped out of the room she heard the agent call out, "And you can leave the robe off," as she closed the doors, not turning around.

Jen wondered what the two men were going to talk about as she went up to her and Dan's room. It was an odd thought—what did a man who was about to screw another man's woman say to him?

She entered the room in a daze, looking at herself in the mirror and sitting down at her vanity. Grabbing her brush, she began brushing her hair, and then proceeded to put on a light foundation and mascara. Finally she grabbed her lipstick, choosing her favorite MAC Pro Longwear, wondering if the color's name held any significance, 'Extended Play.'

She knew it was incongruous to care how she looked, but the act of putting on her make-up calmed her, like she were preparing for work—which she realized may be what she was doing now.

Finally satisfied with how her face looked, she stood up and examined herself in the full-length mirror. She let the robe fall to the floor, standing in nothing but her lace camisole and matching boy shorts. Her apprehension increased as she turned around and beheld the crack of her ass through the opening in the back of her shorts.

The officer's words echoed in her head, "You can leave the robe off."

She chided herself for suddenly thinking the opened back of the shorts was too blatant. Why was she worried about him seeing something he had already seen before? She had been naked at the club, and he was probably going to see a lot more before the day ended.

Walking into her closet, she grabbed her white pair of Viva Bordello platforms and put them on. Once again she looked at herself in the mirror, seeing how the almost 6" heels lifted her ass—the reason she had bought the shoes in the first place. They were only 1.5" platforms—low enough to wear anywhere and not typical 'stripper shoes' many girls wore.

Seeing her toned legs, she remembered another one of the agent's comments, that he was a leg man.

Kicking off her shoes, she went to her drawer and pulled out a package of lace-topped, sheer white stockings, sliding them up her legs. There was a swirling design up the sides—wedding bells she noted sullenly—but they were the only pair of white stockings she had available.

Once again she looked at herself in the mirror. Although the shoes had definitely been an improvement for her legs, the stockings were what made the outfit. It was often the slightest accessory that could change an outfit from good to fantastic, she thought.

For a second time she noted the opening down the crack of her ass, still feeling self-conscious about it blatantly exposing her. Ridiculous as the feeling was, she did not want to give the impression she was that willing, feeling if she were dressed too slutty, it would give the wrong impression.

She almost laughed at the thought; here she was preparing herself to be fucked by a stranger, and she was worried about impropriety.

Even so, she dug through her lingerie drawer until she found what she was after—a ruffled lace micro-miniskirt. Sliding it over her hips and looking in the mirror. It did not cover much, instead merely teasing the eye; however, the material at least covered the opened crack of her boy shorts. Twirling around she saw the bottoms of her ass cheeks hung out from the skit, but knew that was as much a tease as the see-through cloth itself.

Finally as ready as she could be, she went downstairs.

********************

Patrick Geiger sat across from Mr. Jeffries while silence filled the room. They had talked a few minutes about Charles DeWight, but the elephant in the room remained. What did two men talk about when one was going to have sex with the other's fiancée?

The agent was not sure how long he would let the charade continue. He had been fairly certain Mr. Jeffries was going to put a stop to it; however, once his fiancée spoke up, he had quieted and not said much, but Geiger knew the man was close to the breaking point. So unfortunately, as his branch chief had said, he needed to push harder.

He was somewhat surprised at the woman's stoic resolve, but then as an exotic dancer she may have been desensitized to simple innuendo. He had not truly pushed her yet, having merely suggested the idea of him having sex with her—it was Mr. Jeffries who was the weaker link.

Miss Simmons—being a stripper—was used to showing her body, so merely having her strip was not enough to push her to the edge. In fact, if he had to put a wager on it, he did not even believe feeling her up would shake her resolve enough, but he did not feel the same about Mr. Jeffries.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the study door opening. What walked through literally took his breath away, as he had never seen anything more beautiful and sensual.

There was not one thing that caught his attention, and to cease his ocular epilepsy he focused first on his personal preference, her legs.

She had not only put on the high heels like he had asked, but also a pair of silk stockings, the tops laced and seeming to grip her tight thighs. The combination of heels and stockings were breathtaking, making her legs go on forever.

Around her hips she wore a frilly lacey lingerie skirt which extended only a few inches below her hips, not even covering her crotch; he knew her ass would likewise be hanging out behind her. Raising his gaze, he beheld her tanned, well-toned midriff, definitely those of a dancer and athlete. Then, forcing his look higher, he beheld her chest, held tightly by the see-through lace crop-top, the outlines of her bust and areola unmistakable.

Finally he looked at her face. Although she had put on make-up, it was not excessive, instead drawing attention to her natural beauty as opposed to masking or disguising her features into a parody of beauty. Her stunning features were surrounded by her long silken hair, now brushed and gleaming.

He had seen every DSA spokesmodel in the history of the company and although some were attractive, none were as marvelous. She was in a league unto herself, and there was no doubt why Charles DeWight was interested in her; she would make him millions.

His cock was hard before she had taken four steps into the room. This woman was sensuality personified—no longer Miss Jennifer Simmons, but truly Diamond, a DSA girl in the flesh.

He glanced at Mr. Jeffries, whose mouth was open, pure awe and shock in his face. Once again Special Agent Geiger's training kicked in, understanding even though the man had seen his fiancée dressed and undressed a thousand times, being dolled up for a stranger she was allegedly going to have sex with in their own home changed everything.

He stood up, moving behind the loveseat to meet her. "You look stunning," was all he could say.

He saw her smile, her cheeks blushing, the tone complimenting her look so much he had to swallow while he fought for control. This close to her he noticed a slight smell of lavender, uncertain if it were perfume, her shampoo, or something else.

Geiger could not help but be aroused. This woman was beautiful, dressed specifically for sex. He had a raging erection; even the movement of shifting slightly sending a shock through is system. The woman was a spark in the middle of the gasoline that was his testosterone, and he knew he had to break her or Jeffries before he lost control.

Grabbing her wrist, he turned her towards Jeffries. "Remember, this is all happening because of Charles DeWight. I would not be here but for him, your woman would not be forced into sexual servitude if it were not for him," he told the man.

He saw the man's jaw clench, sensing the signs of him about to break, so he moved behind Diamond, placing his hands on her bare waist.

Geiger felt the girl flinch, but otherwise she remained stoic, while he saw Jeffries' jaw lock tighter. The heat of her bare flesh against his palm was both cool and scorching at the same time, the smooth skin sending shockwaves through his body directly to his balls.

Looking over her shoulder at Mr. Jeffries, he slid his hands around her waist to her stomach, feeling the smooth texture of her skin. "One word and I will stop," he told them, "one word and I will walk out of here and you can do what you want with Charles DeWight," he cajoled them.

The woman was so soft, and he unconsciously pulled her against him, his dick pressing against her ass. He felt her quiver, knowing she felt his hard member against her.

"Just tell me when to stop," he whispered in her ear.

He did not expect her to say anything, nor did she. This show was for the man, waiting for him to break, to call quits on the whole thing. Yet as he looked over her shoulder once again, the man remained still, his jaw clenched.

Geiger knew he had to up the ante, as he slowly slid his hands up, feeling her ribs as his thumbs came into contact with her lace top beneath her breasts. Still watching Jeffries, his primary attention was focused on the sensations going through his hands as his thumbs stroked them hemline of the top.

He had planned to merely slide his hands across her body so Jeffries could see; however, he recalled his earlier thoughts, wondering if the girl's breasts were real or not. Subtle touching was not working, but an overt grope could definitely be the breaking point for Jeffries. This was his only chance to touch her before he was told to stop.

The Bureau taught field agents to make use of any advantage to gain the upper hand, so without further hesitation he slid his hands beneath the top, cupping her breasts.

Surprisingly the woman sighed, her head falling against his shoulder as he held the soft yielding flesh in his palms. He could not believe how soft and firm her mammaries were—the dichotomy causing a rush of pure adrenaline through his system.

Reflexively he ground his hard-on firmer against the girl's ass, surprised when he felt her push back against him.

Sliding his hands up the spongy flesh, he felt the hard nubs of her nipples rasp against his palm as he squeezed both breasts gently.

The woman made a small moan which he felt through her body more than heard as he continued to look at Jeffries, who remained as he was before, jaw locked as he watched a stranger fondle his fiancée. And yet the man had not broken—nor had the woman. He had not thought she would, having been in the stripping business for so long, but based on how much Jeffries hated her stripping, he thought this would set the man off.

The woman's response confused him as well. He had not expected her to object, but her reactions were not those of a woman bracing herself and allowing something which she was against.

He had to push harder.

"Take your top off," he told the girl, loud enough for Jeffries to hear.

Surprisingly the girl complied without hesitation, pulling the top up and over her head while he continued to massage and knead her breasts. Neither of them moved other than his hands kneading her breasts and her hands pulling the top off and dropping it on the floor beside them.

Now there was nothing between her breasts, his hands, and Mr. Jeffries eyes, but that man did not budge.

They were definitely real, the agent thought to himself as he squeezed the soft flesh. Without thinking, he grasped her nipples between his fingers, twirling the hardened nubs. The girl let out a louder moan, feeling the vibration through her body as he teased her rigid buds.

He knew Jeffries had heard the moan; however, he surprisingly remained sitting quietly, watching as Geiger held his fiancée by her chest.

Emboldened, the agent moved one hand down, sliding across the smooth, warm flesh of her stomach until he felt the lace waistband of her panties. Not having the nerve to slide his hand beneath them, he instead glided across the lace material to the junction between her thighs.

The woman let out a louder moan as she moved her hips, pressing his palm more firmly against her mons. Without thinking his fingers cupped the cleft between her legs, amazed to find the material damp as the girl once again moved her hips forward, increasing the pressure of his hand against her.

Looking up, he was astonished that Jeffries had still not said a word.

Since slow and gentle was not fazing the man, he reluctantly slid his hand off the woman's breast to her back, between her shoulder blades. Without warning he pushed her forward, continuing to hold her crotch with one hand, creating a fulcrum and forcing her to bend over the back of the loveseat.

Diamond steadied herself with her hands on the back of the loveseat as he roughly massaged her crotch with his left hand. Unexpectedly her ass ground harder against his pelvis as his cock wedged deeper within her crack, the feeling almost causing him to cum in his pants.

Now that the woman was bent over at the waist, he had a clear view of Jeffries, who remained in his chair like a statue. Geiger had one more angle, wondering if the visible aspect of what could happen would break the man.

Sliding his hands back around the beautiful woman's hips, he massaged her ass briefly before stepping away to the side—he wanted Jeffries to see what he was doing. Looking directly at the man, Geiger reached down and slowly unbuckled his belt, then undid his pants, slowly lowering his zipper.

The man did not flinch; however, he did avert his eyes and Geiger thought he had him until the man returned looking at him. As if a silent gauntlet had been thrown, he lowered his pants along with his boxers, freeing his erect penis.

If he were not looking directly at him, Geiger would have thought there was no reaction. Almost imperceptively the man's eyes widened slightly, the muscle in his jaw slightly flexing; however, that was the only sign that he registered what was going on around him. And he still did not tell Geiger to stop.

Looking over at Diamond who was watching him over her shoulder, the agent noted she had remained bent over, her luscious tits hanging below her. Her mouth was slightly open and he noticed her respiration rate was increased. Amazingly she was aroused, although he had gathered that from the dampness of her panties earlier.

Unbelievably Jeffries had not said anything, so Geiger moved back to behind the woman, flipping up her skirt.

"Wow," he gasped, observing the back of her panties having a 2-3 inch wide opening down the back, laced up by a silvery white ribbon, the crack of her ass bared.
He had planned on peeling her panties off, but with such an opening, he instead grabbed the ribbon, yanking it roughly. The woman's body jerked at his pull as the ribbon broke and immediately unraveled, the gap in the back of the shorts widening.

Geiger was no longer concerned with Jeffries or the woman—his attention focused on the delicious curve of flesh of the stripper's ass, her crack a tantalizing delicacy. Without thinking he slid his hands between the slit, taking each of her cheeks in his hands.

In the quiet of the room the tearing of her panties was like a gunshot going off as Geiger slid his hands forward, the material ripping open as he moved. His hands slid around her hips, yanking the material forward when it got too tight. A primordial feeling of satisfaction swept through him as the material broke, falling away from his hands.

As the loosened material slid down her thighs, his hand hit the small patch of fur on her mons, his fingers briefly petting it before moving down to her cleft.

Moving one hand on her hip, he continued the descent of his other hand, feeling the smooth, wet skin of her slit. Once more acting purely on instinct he inserted his middle finger into her hot cleft, the woman making an audible gasp as his finger immersed itself into her soft, moistened core.

Geiger was unable to contain himself, slowly finger fucking the woman, feeling her hips moving with his other hand as she subtly lowered herself upon his hand.

He knew he had to pull out his last trump card. The man for some reason had not broken, so he had to put everything on the woman, knowing the girl would tell him to immediately stop at the shock of him prepared to fuck her.

Pulling the hand between her legs back, he moved completely behind her, grasping her hips with both hands. Slowly he moved his cock forward, almost losing himself as he slid it between her legs, knowing the second she felt his member placed below the crack of her ass she would pull away.

********************

As the agent moved behind Jen, Dan wondered how he was still sitting there. He felt like he was about to burst out of his skin, like he was itching from the inside out. Watching the officer feel up his fiancée was one thing, but knowing he was about to penetrate her and fuck her in front of him was too much. His skin was crawling, his stomach doing flip-flops, and his heart was beating so fast he thought it was fibrillating.

And yet his cock was hard as steel, the goddamn thing defying everything he was thinking.

He could not believe Jen had dressed the way she had. When leaving, he had been stunned when she asked the man if he had any preferences and he told her he would like to see her in pumps. That feeling was nothing compared to the astonishment when she had walked into the room not only in the requested shoes, but wearing sheer white stockings and a small lingerie skirt. The floor to his heart seemed to have disappeared as he went numb.

Then he had looked at her face and saw she had actually put on makeup! That was when his heart fell into the void that had appeared in his chest.

Still numb, when the cop put his hands around her stomach and slowly caressed her, Dan noticed the agent was looking directly at him. It was then he realized the bastard was purposely baiting him. As Dan continued to watch the scene before him, the agent continued to look at him as he moved his hands up her body, as if daring Dan to say something.

Not willing to give the agent the satisfaction of winning the game of chicken, he clenched his teeth and remained sitting.

Then the agent slid his hands beneath Jen's top, cupping her breasts. Dan could only stare as Jen's breasts were contorted by the clutching fingers and the manipulative attention the agent gave them. Almost about to call it off, he once again noticed the agent looking at him, knowing he was purposely trying to cause Dan to freak out.

Once again Dan merely clenched his jaw and watched. As things progressed Dan felt his skin grating, wanting to run out of the room screaming, but the agent had been correct. Any indication Dan gave knowing Jen only endangered her. She was going to end up having to have sex with somebody other than him due to that fucking contract, so this was his initiation.

He figured if Jen was opposed to what was happening, she would say something.

He then looked at his fiancée, his attention previously solely on what the cop was doing to her body, but not her. Amazingly her eyes were closed, her mouth half opened as the cop felt her up. His mind did not even contemplate travelling down the impossible path that she was aroused, thinking instead she was concentrating on something else in order to shut out what the cop was doing to her from her mind.

Her eyes opened wide when the cop roughly bent her over the back of the loveseat, and Dan was about to say something when he saw Jen's head raise and look at him, slowly shaking her head. Apparently she was thinking like him, that what was happening was inevitable. Or maybe like him, it was a contest of wills and she refused to give in at being merely groped. Seeing her having reason he felt somewhat better. At least now it was a controlled environment, where they could stop at any time. Once Chuck got ahold of her, who knew what would happen.

And after seeing the agent was purposely baiting him, he had no doubts it would end before it got too real.

The cop moving to the side caught his attention. Once more the agent watched him intently to gauge his reaction as he undid his pants. Not to be caught in the entrapment, Dan merely watched. The only reaction he gave was when the officer removed his pants, his erection sticking straight out from between his legs. The man was huge! Not in length, but from several feet away Dan thought the man's dick was as thick as his forearm.

As the agent continued to watch for a reaction from Dan, he moved behind Jen again. His hands grasped her hips, moving behind to her to her ass. Dan saw Jen's hips jerk and heard a loud snap, grasping the fact the cop had torn the ribbon from the back opening of her shorts.

He looked at Jen—those were her favorite panties to wear for him—seeing her eyelids half closed, her mouth still open, her breasts hanging below her moving gently from her breathing. Dan presumed she was once again trying to block out what was happening around her, mentally putting herself in some trance-like state.

Then he heard a slow tearing sound, the rendering of cloth almost reverberating through the quiet room as he saw the cop's hands come around Jen's hips, the lace cloth of the panties bunched around his wrists as he tore them in half from back to front. Meeting some resistance, the cop yanked forward, the loud tearing indication of his success as Jen's boy short panties dropped down her thighs.

The agent's hands moved between Jen's legs and Dan saw her eyes snap open, a quick gasp leaving her mouth as once again his heart feel down an abyss—the cop was fingering her, he realized.

He could only stare as he saw Jen's hips move—apparently the cop was being overly rough with his movements, causing her body to twitch from the movement. He wondered when she would stop him, as Jen would obviously object to such treatment. He remembered the other night when she had danced and several men fingering her, wondering if she was already desensitized to the rudeness. He was fearful if she was too desensitized, she was not going to break, instead trusting in the agent to stop.

The cop stood up as he placed his hands on Jen's hips...

He saw Jen's hips rotate, her ass rising slightly while her stomach moved lower. The cop had not moved, so Dan knew it was not because of his motion as Jen's body leaned back...

Dan knew the instant the cop entered her, as Jen's eyes flew open wide and her mouth formed a surprised 'O,' sucking in a loud gasp. He watched Jen's hips continued to move back, then forward, then back a couple more times, seeing the agent's hips moving forward. Jen once again gasped as Dan realized at that moment the agent had fully penetrated his fiancée's pussy with his fat cock.

In morbid amazement Dan watched as Jen's hips moved back while the agent's moved forward, the motion repeated several times, slowly increasing in speed.

Dan could only stare as Jen's breasts began to sway beneath her as a soft and steady 'slap...slap...slap' sound began—the agent's pelvis hitting against Jen's ass getting louder as he began to fuck Dan's fiancée, his wife-to-be.

********************

Warm butter.

That's what Patrick Geiger sank his cock into, warm butter. Tight warm butter.

He had only intended to prod the stripper with his dick, touching the bottom of her ass between her legs, expecting her to call off his charade once and for all—it was his trump card.

Instead she had raised her hips, her body moving back as she impaled herself upon his hardened member! Instinctively Geiger moved his hips forward and back, lubricating his cock until in two more half-strokes he was fully engulfed in the woman's core.

It felt like he had sunk his cock into tight warm butter.

No longer in control of himself, he sighed as the woman began moving her hips, her body moving back and forth as his cock slid in and out of her. Grasping her hips, he began to meet her thrusts with his own, slowly speeding up until the consistent 'slap...slap...slap' sound of his body against hers started to fill the room.

Good God, he was actually doing this. He was fucking an informer, a victim; his FBI side chastised him. A fucking hot and completely aroused stripper, his male side echoed simultaneously within his head.

Unable to control himself any longer, Geiger sped up his thrusts, no longer attempting to break either the woman or her man as he succumbed to the sensation of fucking this hot piece of ass.

********************

Jen could not believe the feelings going through her body.

When she had been felt up by the cop she had been surprised at his gentle touch. It was almost erotic the way he slowly felt her bare waist, then gliding his hands up her ribs.

As his thumbs toyed with the hem of her camisole top, she was surprised at herself imagining him sliding his hands beneath the top and take hold of her breasts.

When he actually did it she could not suppress the moan of sheer pleasure that coursed through her.

As the cop fully attended to her tits, Jen got more and more aroused; her breasts were her most sensitive erogenous zone.

When the cop had bent her over the couch Jen had looked at Dan, who seemed ready to stop what was happening but she shook her head. He needed to see this, just as much as she needed to experience it. She knew anything Mr. DeWight put her through would not be as enjoyable, so this was a nice way of breaking in to her new life.

She had been astounded when the cop had pulled down his pants, his erection springing free. Last night she had not paid much attention to looking at his cock, instead focused on orally pleasuring him. Now that she actually looked at him her eyes widened observing how big his was. Length-wise he was about the size of Dan; however, the girth was unbelievable, amazed she had not noted it last night.

Not having had anything that wide in her before, Jen felt her pussy getting wetter, as if anticipating the intrusion and preparing itself for the invasion.

When the cop moved back behind her she almost grimaced expecting to feel pain; however, the cop's hands slid down to between her legs, her gasp audible as he began slowly stroking her slit.

Once again she could not believe how gentle and observant he was. His fingers widened her slit, slowly stroking her labia, gliding across her clitoris. She felt herself wanting more, involuntarily moving her hips down to sink him inside her. He slowly began finger fucking her and Jen responded, her hips continuing to move as she rode his hand, unsuccessfully suppressing her moans. Her body was betraying her enough, she did not need to act a total slut and show everybody how much she was enjoying the erotic manipulation.

She almost lost it and whimpered when the agent's hand moved away onto her hip, but then she felt the head of his cock press against the bottom of her ass. Instinctively—and shamefully admitting in anticipation—she raised her hips, moving back and impaling herself on his cock. In only two strokes he was fully embedded in her core, her fluids easily giving him access to her deep core as he split her slit open.

Jen could not believe the full feeling of her pussy being stretched so wide. Automatically her hips began to move back and forth, sliding the wide cock in and out of her core, the feeling of her pussy expanding to its intrusion, then collapsing as he pulled back sending lustful tremors through her brain.

Then she felt the agent's hands on her hips as he took control. Jen once more attempted to hold back her moans, the only sound in the room the steady 'slap...slap...slap' as he pummeled into her, her body bent over the loveseat and swaying back and forth, her breasts vibrating and swaying in tandem.

Jen looked up at Dan who was staring wide-eyed at the scene of her, his fiancée, being fucked by a stranger. And then she noticed the tent in his pants, realizing he was fully aroused. For some reason the sight turned her on even more as she began pushing back with her arms, slamming herself onto the agent's cock, the smacking sounds of her ass against his body getting louder.

At that point Jen was not sure who was fucking who, both of them lost in the pure carnal act of pleasing themselves.

The agent bent over her back and grasped her tits, squeezing them as his cock continued driving in and out of her. The combination of feelings—the kneading of her breasts and the stretching of her pussy—was too much as Jen lost control, crying out as her pussy clamped down on the cock pounded her as she came.

The cop's hold on her breasts tightened as Jen felt herself pulled into a standing position. His cock continued to repeatedly piston in and out of her pussy as Jen's orgasm continued without end. Her legs were too weak to support her own weight as she comprehending the officer holding her up by her tits, reminiscent of the foreman finger fucking her the other night. Jen could only give into the sensation as his cock embedded within her as additional orgasms overcame her, her body almost seizuring while the cop's rhythm never faltered.

Jen was not sure how long she was held up, the cop ruthlessly squeezing her breasts as he pummeled her, but eventually his rhythm paused and he pulled out. It was only at the absence of his cock within her that her orgasms finally began to subside as she speculated if he was done with her. He had done what she had allowed, fucking her in front of Dan, so obviously his testing of them was successful, so she tried to catch her breath to head upstairs and put something back on.

Then he told her to lay on the loveseat.

Jen stood shakily on her legs. Her panties were down around her thighs, so she bent down, sliding the ruined lace material off her legs before obediently stepping around the loveseat.

As she neared him, Dan's eyes were glued to her, no emotion visible other than the hard-on tenting his pants. She noted a small wet spot at the apex, his pre-cum soaking through his shorts and slacks as her pulse quickened at her man's arousal. The idea of her man being excited because of her was always a turn-on.

Looking down she saw reddened marks on her breasts from the agent's mauling, knowing Dan could see them as well.

As she sat on the loveseat, she whispered to him, "I love you," seeing a brief smile and warming of his face before it tightened again when the agent moved beside her.

Without being told Jen leaned back, resting her neck on the armrest. She raised her right leg, hooking her knee over the back of the loveseat while she planted her left leg on the ground, her legs spread wide and exposing herself to both men.

Without a word the agent moved between her legs, his fat erection glistening with her juices. Grasping it with one hand, he moved down to her.

Jen let out a gasp followed by a moan as the cop once again impaled her.

Although he had been in her just seconds ago, the new position felt entirely different, as if her canal was being stretched even further. In this position his cock went much deeper, the new areas stretching uniquely within her deepened core.

The sensation was incredible as the cop began fucking her relentlessly, no longer gentle, his body slamming into her repeatedly over and over. She began moaning, then grunting to the assault, no longer able to hold back.

Her body was repeatedly slammed into the armrest, her breasts echoing the thrusts. She moaned as the cop reached down and grasped one of her breasts, his incessant pounding into her cunt not wavering. Jen was no longer in control of herself as she became immersed in the sensations. She was no longer being fucked by a stranger in front of her fiancé, she was a woman being dominated by a man and she savored every second of it.

Without thought she wrapped her legs around the cops thighs, her arms around his shoulders as she let him desecrated her completely...

********************

"I love you," Jen whispered as she sat on the loveseat, leaning back and spreading her legs—one hooking around the back of the loveseat, the other planted firmly on the ground.

Dan could only stare at her pouting pussy, her labia swollen, wet, and reddened from the rough treatment they had already sustained. Then the federal agent moved between her legs and Jen let out a yell, grunting as the cop's hips began moving up and down over her, fucking her incessantly.

The cop's legs widened as he braced himself better. Unfortunately it allowed Dan to see between his legs, watching morosely as the agent's cock speared into Jen's core. He watched mesmerized as the cop's fat dick slammed in and pulled out of her, her pussy lips protruding as he pulled out, wrapped around his shaft as if reluctant to let him go, then inverting as he plunged into her once again.

Dan's emotions were everywhere, a cornucopia of feelings, sensations, and stimuli flowing through him. Here was his fiancée, naked except for high heeled shoes, stockings, and a lace skirt around her waist being fucked by a stranger they had just met, an FBI agent who was sworn to protect and serve.

He was serving her alright, Dan thought as the cop continued to fuck his woman.

Dan observed Jen's tits jerking and swaying back and forth with each thrust, the impact sending shockwaves across the yielding flesh as they vibrated like bumping a Jell-O mold.

"I'm cumming!" he heard Jen gasp as he watched in morbid fascination as she raised her stocking-clad legs up, wrapping them around the agent's thighs. Her arms encircled his torso as she melded her body into the agent's, who continued fucking her mercilessly.

Dan did not know how long the cop pummeled his fiancée's pussy, but eventually he pulled back, Jen's legs and arms sliding away from him as he stood up, moving towards her upper body.

"Time for the money shot," he gasped as Dan watch his hips start convulsing.

His body was blocking Dan's view, who heard the agent grunting while Jen quietly moaned. He knew the man was cumming on her, thankful it was not inside her as his curiosity got the best of him. Reluctantly he stood up, his cock pressing tightly against his trousers, his knees weak after his body had been locked in place for slow long. Moving to the chair Jen had sat in, Dan could now see her torso, then her full body as the agent moved back.

Jen's tits were covered with cum, the white fluid peppered across them as if seasoned from a salt shaker. Her breasts—no longer shaking and quivering—looked like somebody had held a bottle of hand lotion above her, dribbling the entire contents onto her chest. Dan was flabbergasted at the amount of cum that had left the cop, once again thankful it had been on her, and not within her.
The agent moved again, stepping back towards Jen as Dan could only stare in horrid fascination while he guided his slowly deflating dick to her mouth. Even more surprising was watching Jen open her mouth, eagerly taking the cop's cock into her mouth and begin sucking.

As the cop stood over her, Jen's head moved back and forth, her cheeks inverted from the sucking pressure she was creating as she cleaned him off. Occasionally the vacuum created by her mouth would break, the loud "Pslupch" noise echoing throughout the room followed by the slurp of her sucking him back in.

After several minutes of Jen's oral cleansing the agent moved away, going behind the loveseat and pulling his pants back on. Meanwhile Jen continued to lay on the couch, her cum-splattered tits rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath.

While the cop buckled his belt, Jen finally spoke. "Honey, can you hand me the Kleenex?" she asked.

Normally the box was on the table by the loveseat, but Dan noticed for some reason it was on the table between the two chairs as he grabbed it.

Immediately the agent's voice surprised them. "No, leave it on. Smear it over your tits, that's one of DeWight's common demands to his women; not clean up after sex. Apparently he likes them smelling and looking used," he told them. "And I can't say it's a bad thought," he continued. "I like the idea of you covered in a stranger's cum in your own house," the agent said smiling.

Dan was uncertain if the cop was still trying to be crass in the attempt of deterring them as he watched enthralled as Jen did exactly what the cop asked, smearing the white fluid over her tits until they were both glistening, the odor of sex and sperm permeating the room.

"Can I at least put on my top?" she asked the officer, as Dan stared in amazement at how compliant Jen had become.

********************

Patrick Geiger could not believe what had just happened. His intent had been to merely grope the woman in front of the man, playing upon his hatred of his girlfriend stripping in the first place to intimidate him into calling things off. Failing that, he had purposely been rough with his groping to pressure the woman herself to call it off. Astonishingly he had ended up fucking her—in front of her fiancé—still amazed at her moving her body back and impaling herself on his cock.

At that point male instinct had taken over; he was no longer Patrick Geiger, Special Agent for the FBI interrogating two possible informants, he was a man who had a beautiful woman yielding her body for him to use.

It had been the first sex he had since losing Rachel; shamefully admitting it had been fantastic. Although shy and somewhat timid earlier, the woman had turned into a sex-starved vixen. Once he had entered her she had met him thrust for thrust, herself orgasming multiple times, the memory of feeling of her vaginal muscles clamping down around his cock, her canal convulsing around him as he pounded into her mercilessly still fresh in his mind.

He had been amazed at her allowing him to cum over her marvelous tits, even more surprised when she had cleaned him off with her mouth.

She was completely different than the woman he had questioned earlier, wondering at the change.

When she asked for a Kleenex, a perverse thought entered his mind as he told her to smear his semen over her breasts and leave it there.

To his amazement, she complied!

Then when she asked for her top, he had told her he liked seeing her naked and to leave it where it was lying. Neither she nor Mr. Jeffries said a word as the agent bossed the woman around like a tramp, blatantly displaying her nudity and evidence of his use of her.

Based upon the dichotomy of her behavior, Special Agent Geiger could comprehend how DeWight had manipulated the stripper into signing the contract. She may normally be in control of herself, but during sex she became yielding, completely compliant to her partner's demands. She also became extraordinarily compliant sexually, yet still demanding. She allowed him his way with her, yet eager to please herself as well.

He recalled how the stripper appeared completely willing on the surveillance tape of DeWight fucking her, also remembering her eagerly sucking the cock in the other video. Once the hurdle of her morality of sleeping with him had been breached, she had turned into a compliant, carnal creature.

It had probably been simple for DeWight to get her to sign her contract once he had dominated her; all he had to do was ask. Geiger wagered he could order her to do almost anything at this point.

Looking back at her, still amazed at her beauty and the fact he had just had sex with her, she continued to lay on the loveseat, naked except for her sexy stockings and heeled feet and the small frilly skirt bunched around her hips. Her legs were slightly spread—her feet both settled on the floor—as Geiger observed her reddened womanhood, her labia swollen and puffy, feeling a stir of male pride flowing through him of a pussy well fucked.

Mr. Jeffries finally broke the silence, "So I guess we won't crack," he said, stating the obvious. "So what happens now?"

Geiger was flabbergasted as the man picked up the conversation, as if his fiancée had not just been fucked in front of him by a stranger.

Movement caught his attention again as Diamond pulled her legs up onto the loveseat, turning onto her side and propping herself up as her bare breasts swayed with her movements. Geiger noted a patch of paleness on the woman's breast, realizing it was his cum drying on her, feeling his cock twitch in his pants.

"Well, there are several things that need to be done," he told them, trying to take his mind off the beautiful naked woman before him. "First we need to get you out of this house. If both of you will be working for DSA as informants, we need to monopolize on DeWight not knowing of your relationship. This address is already tied to Miss Simmons' name in the DSA corporate records, so DeWight will know where she lives. If you end up working for him, we need to establish a new address and add enough financial history to pass scrutiny," he explained.

The couple looked at each other in panic as he told them, "I know being separated is not the ideal situation, but we have to make this work," he told them.

"It's just...just so fast," the woman said quietly. "And we didn't think about having to be separated..." her voice trailed off.

Geiger realized what he took for granted in his line of work was completely new to them, saying, "I apologize, but it needs to happen fast," he consoled to them. "With you going to corporate headquarters this week, we need to make sure Mr. Jeffries is out of the house. We need to find him someplace and create a history of him living there and accept DeWight's offer as soon as possible," he told them.

"Wait, you expect me to just quit my job and accept a job with Chuck?" the man cried out, obviously upset. Geiger was surprised, as this outburst was greater than when he had fucked Diamond—then again, maybe he was releasing that tension now.

"I know this is a lot to ask of both of you," the agent told them. "I will be talking with my branch chief after I leave here. Once the investigation is over," he told them, "the FBI will validate the reason for you quitting your job. There is actually a little-known law that allows you to go back to work in the event of the Bureau instigating the termination of your employment. That being said, Charles DeWight is not somebody you want to cross," he explained to them. "It is my hope to get you approved for Witness Protection if we can take DeWight down," he told them.

"What!" the man yelled. "Why would we need that?" he asked.

Geiger looked at the man as if he had laid an egg—how could he expect anything to return to normal after crossing paths with Charles DeWight. "Charles DeWight is not a man you defy and remain unscathed. I've told you about how women who defy the contracts end up being destitute after court—Charles DeWight does not allow such rebelliousness to go unpunished. Emery Phelps was just a real estate agent working for DSA, once DeWight caught him dipping his hands in the corporate cookie jar he was terminated, with extreme prejudice.

"If we can find enough evidence to put him away," he continued, "he may want revenge on the people who set him up. Charles DeWight is a crime lord; he is not the tame rival you grew up with, but a murderer. A man who exploits women, not caring if it is against their will, and will use any means necessary—legal or not—to get his way," he told them. "We understand this, and that is why I will be requesting protection for both of you in the event we can nail the bastard," he finished vehemently.

Geiger gave them a few minutes to absorb what he had said, his attention once again drawn to the naked magnificence in front of him.

The man's voice finally broke him from his reminiscing as he looked over to him. "And what if we don't find anything?" Jeffries asked.

"We'll figure something out," Geiger told him.

The man was right though, he was asking them to abandon their primary mode of income for a job with a man he detested and who had mentally abused him all his life, the woman immersed into the sex trade to do DeWight's whim. The sad part was if neither of them could find enough evidence to put DeWight away, chances were the Bureau would wipe its hands of them, letting them fend for themselves. They may be compensated for 'time well served in the Bureau's interests,' but beyond a small reimbursement, their lives would be doomed.

He had seen other informant's lives ended similarly; and typically it did not bother anybody. Most of the time the snitches were also criminals—drug dealers looking for diminished sentences, thieves, blackmailers—not anybody you would care what happened to them if things turned ugly.

Unfortunately, there was the occasional collateral damage, nice people caught up in bad circumstances like Mr. Jeffries and Miss Simmons. The Bureau would think nothing of cutting them loose if things did not benefit them. It was one of the sad facts of his job, and Geiger reluctantly pushed it to the back of his mind.

"That doesn't sound very convincing," Jeffries replied, as if reading his thoughts.

"We have to do it," the woman spoke up, surprising them both. "We cannot let this happen to others. You heard the detective," she told her fiancé, "this has been going on since Mr. DeWight took over, if there's something we can do, we need to do it," she said.

Geiger's eyes were focused upon her bare breasts, recalling how soft and yielding the flesh had been—not the fake consistency of a good boob job, but natural spongy God-given mammary tissue.

"Fine," Jeffries said, drawing Geiger's eyes away from the woman's chest. Apparently Jeffries could not turn his woman down, as Geiger knew the man did not share the morality his fiancée felt.

"Tomorrow a team will come over and pack up all indications of Mr. Jeffries living here," he told them. Seeing their questioning faces, he said, "We cannot afford the possibility of DeWight visiting here—or somebody else from DSA—and finding evidence you two know each other," he explained, while his eyes were once again drawn to the beautiful naked woman in front of him. "Many things in your house may not appear to be out-of-the-ordinary to you and be missed if you were asked to pack, whereas somebody seeing your house for the first time and trained in such things will be able to pick them out more easily," he told them.

"Anything innocuous we will leave," he told them, "as DeWight knows you are engaged, we can leave some items as long as they do not indicate to whom," he told the woman.

His mind drifted back to fucking her from behind. Seeing her left hand clutching the back of the loveseat, her engagement ring sparkling in the light, Geiger has begun fucking her more deeply as the male instinct to dominate another man's woman overcame him. He realized that very same ringed hand had been in the blowjob video, as well as stroking his own cock the night before.

"What about talking to each other, or phone calls?" the focus of his eyes asked.

"I understand this is going to be difficult. We'll provide you each with what we call 'safe phones' which are basically secure cell phones. You two can talk to each other as long as you are both alone. It will also be a way for us to contact you if needed," he explained to them. "The phones cannot be traced by usual means, and calls from them will give random phone numbers," he told them.

Seeing their questioning glances he explained, "The random phone numbers look better if somebody gets a hold of your phone. Instead of getting a large number of 'Caller ID unavailable' calls which could be suspicious, the phones will have random telemarketer numbers. If somebody calls the numbers back, they will be given a barrage of automated dialogue on collecting past bills and such," he said.

"I know the separation will be difficult," he continued, "but we ask you try and avoid contact with each other as much as possible. Chances are you will see each other frequently, as you will both be new employees, and DeWight likes to keep his higher ranking people around him."

He did not go into details that the chances of them being placed in similar situations which had just occurred would be when they would see each other—the woman sexually violated while DeWight and his accomplices watch.

He saw the man's jaw clench again, but the woman did not move other than to look at him, her eyes moving to his crotch. Seeing the direction of her gaze, his blood rushed southward.

Trying to take his mind off the woman's uncovered beauty he pulled out a card, writing an address on it and handing it to the woman. "Tomorrow come to this address around noon. This is one of our safe houses where we can meet. I will introduce you to some of the team, as well as provide you with surveillance equipment," he told them.

"What kind of equipment?" Mr. Jeffries asked, the man obviously not pleased with the situation.

"Well, for one," he told them, ignoring the man's tone, knowing they were now committed into assisting them, "we will want to make sure each of you has a GPS locator so we know your whereabouts at all times. Diamond will be getting some of the surveillance gear meant for Rachel—it was not ready at the time of her disappearance," he told them morosely. "If she would have had it, we may have been able to help her," he told them, remembering their last goodbye as she left to dance that night.

He still felt guilty allowing Rachel to join the club without any equipment beyond a tape recorder and camera in her purse. Unfortunately budget cuts being what they were, and the equipment being extremely expensive, it had been rejected until they could prove it was needed. It had taken her being hired at the club for the gear to be approved. Before it had arrived, Rachel had disappeared.

Pushing the thoughts from his head and seeing more questions in their eyes, he told them, "Just meet us tomorrow. I'll take the contract to our legal people and see if there is anything we can do about it, but tonight relax, talk, and enjoy this night together," he told them. "The moving crew will be here early tomorrow before you come to the safe office. By then we'll have an established residence for you, but we'll discuss the other specifics when you come downtown tomorrow," he told them.

He got up, shutting his laptop as the woman surprisingly stood up as well saying, "I'll see you out," walking to the study doors and opening them.

Geiger could only stare at the almost-naked woman. Earlier she had been timid and shy when her robe merely revealed her undergarments, yet now she walked around in front of him practically naked, her tight ass drawing his gaze while Mr. Jeffries merely sat in his chair. The small skirt she wore had fallen into place, the material barely covering her hips, leaving her crotch exposed. As she turned around he saw her ass hanging below the material as well, the thin lace allowing him to see all of it in detail.

He felt his cock twitch at the open display of her body, the knowledge of her breasts covered with his cum causing him to catch his breath as she motioned for him to follow her. They went into the kitchen and she pointed to several piles of papers on the table.

"That's the contract," she told him to his amazement. "Right now it's divided based upon payments and penalties, responsibilities, and so forth, but here's the box it came in," she said, bending down to get the box.

Geiger could only stare as her breasts bobbed and hung below her as she bent to get the box. Then his eyes were drawn to her perfectly shaped ass leading to the heart-shaped outline of her slit and pussy lips, his blood rushing back to his crotch again.

She packaged up the documents with his help, and then he took the box and followed the gorgeous naked woman back into the foyer. As she stood there in her glory she told him they would see him tomorrow as he continued to stare at her naked body.

Still pondering her compliance with his earlier command as he passed her to go out the door, he looked at her, a perverse thought entering his head as he told her, "Don't wash tonight, I want to smell myself on you tomorrow."

Before the woman could utter a word he left, wondering what she was thinking.

********************

Jen stood dumbfounded as the agent walked outside carrying the box with her contract and his laptop, his words echoing in her head. Part of her could not believe the audacity of the man, another part becoming aroused as she noticed her nipples hardening. Feeling the tightening buds she smiled to herself at the workout they had received today.

It was not until a car drove by, swerving in the road as the driver looked at her, that Jen realized she was standing in her house with the front door wide open, completely naked except for a pair of stockings and heels and a microskirt.

Closing the door she went back into the study, seeing Dan had still not moved. Sitting down on the loveseat, he did not meet her gaze as she whispered, "Are you mad?"

Once again the thought of losing him overcame her as remorse for giving herself to the agent hit her. Although she had been prepared and resigned to what had happened, doubt filled her after-the-fact. She knew she had to follow through with what the agent proposed, not for her sake, but for Dan's—he of all people needed to understand what Mr. DeWight was intending for her.

"Mad? I'm furious," he told her, the vehemence in his voice palpable as Jen felt her heart shatter. "But not at you," he amended, "I'm mad at Chuck, I'm mad at that cop...er, agent...or whatever the fuck he is. I'm mad at the circumstances that have surrounded us for the past week. We're in the middle of an avalanche and all we can do is hope we survive the descent," he said, finally looking at her.

"I'm mad that this is happening; that in the middle of the fucking twenty-first century a woman can get exploited like this. I'm pissed at Chuck for letting it happen. The idea that that asshole has cajoled my own fiancée into being forced to have sex with strangers without any thought to your well-being or morals is abhorrent. So yeah, I'm mad," he told her, "but at the circumstances, not you," he stated, his eyes absorbing the image of her as he looked at her.

Jen felt her body flush at the scrutiny of her man as her breasts tightened due to his gaze. She realized there was a distinct difference in her arousal from Dan compared to what she had felt at the look and bossiness of the agent, or even what she had felt sucking Tim off in Mr. DeWight's office or from what she could remember from having sex with him. She had felt the difference several times before when Dan had visited the club and she had danced with him watching, her body reacting differently between the leers of strangers and that of her own man.
It was the distinction between her body's physical response and the mental one. With strangers her body became aroused through Nature, a woman's physiology preparing itself for what it had been placed upon the earth to do, satisfy a man, propagate the species, allowing the dominant gender its desire. In the case of Dan, it was her mind triggering the arousal, the thought of her chosen man, the love of her life, desiring her with all her flaws and weaknesses, and wanting to please him.

It was an emotional response versus a corporeal one, she thought, recalling her earlier thoughts on the differences of making love and fucking.

She voiced her thoughts to Dan seeing him smile.

"Well, at least I can turn you one somehow," he said as she chided him, telling him she would take his version any day.

Silence filled the room for a bit as they both became lost in their thoughts. Jen realized she was still naked, thinking to go and change when she squashed the idea. If she could not be naked in front of her own lover, then she might as well end it herself.

Dan's voice broke her thoughts. "So, what was it like?" he asked.

Knowing immediately what he was asking, Jen did not want to lie. "It was different," she said, once again echoing the physical versus emotional responses of her body. "And he was so wide," she admitted. "I thought he was going to split me apart at first, but nature took over and my muscles adapted. I just let my body go, pushing every thought from me but that moment. I could not think of you," she apologized, "as the guilt and my humility would have made me call it off. It needed to happen," she told him, echoing her earlier thoughts. "So I boxed up my feelings and refused to let them out," she said.

She once again explained her thoughts about her body's physical reactions with the agent, Mr. DeWight, even sucking off Tim compared to making love to him. She clarified how her mental arousal was much more intense and satisfying compared to the uncontrolled reactions of her body.

"Cumming with you is so complete, it's a release of not only my body, but of my soul," she told him, getting up and sitting on his lap.

Dan's eyes moved to her breasts and for a moment Jen wondered if he were looking at them as her lover or remembering the agent cumming all over them. Her thoughts were eased as he put his arms around her waist, pulling her down to his chest and kissing her on the lips, both of them smiling as their "I love you" came out simultaneously.

Jen's stomach growled causing them both to once again smile. Glancing at the clock she was amazed to see it was after 7:00 pm! No wonder she was hungry, the last time she had eaten had been in the morning. Sitting in the kitchen eating pancakes with her lover seemed like a week ago as Dan asked what she was hungry for.

"I don't want either of us to worry about cooking," she told him, "how about a pizza?" she asked. As Dan got up to place the order, she asked him if he wanted her to change.

Dan looked at her appraisingly, her body flushing at the blatant leer while his eyes crawled over her nude body. "As much as I hate to admit it, you look incredible," he said. "But if you want to put something on to be more comfortable, I understand," he said.

"Nonsense," Jen told him, "I'll do and wear anything to make you happy," she told him, getting up and giving him a large hug, her bare breasts squeezing against his chest.

Once the pizza arrived they ate in the living room, watching a movie they had saved a while ago. Yet even as they watched, their thoughts were not on the movie. Instead, each was thinking about what was becoming of their lives and how things seemed to be spiraling out of their control.

Afterwards they went to bed, both of them cuddling together and slowly making love. Jen pondered at the agent's comment—that her and Dan may not be together for some time. Sudden clarity came to her as she realized the next time she would have sex, it would probably not be with Dan. Instead a complete stranger would fuck her, she thought morosely as fear of what was going to become of her filled her with self-doubt.

As she thought about what was happening to her, Dan continued to make love to her, biting on her nipple forcefully and causing her to refocus on her man.

Yet even as his tongue stroked the tender bud Jen could not help but flashback to the thought of having the agent's dried sperm still upon her. The thought of her man licking another man's cum off her body sent her over the edge, her body orgasming while Dan stroked in and out of her.

As her body flushed with release, she realized she had had sex with three different men in just as many days, the thought again sending a perverse thrill through her as her orgasm peaked once again.

Jen's thoughts shamed her, even while her body became more aroused, as the perpetual orgasm overwhelmed her. She could only hold on tightly to Dan as he made love to her, himself finally coming as she still quivered beneath him.

It had an intense orgasm, the aftermath leaving her completely spent and exhausted. She felt somewhat chagrined thinking of other men when making love to Dan, as if the experience was soiled somehow, but convinced herself it was while he was making love to her, so was alright.

As she drifted to sleep, her man still buried within her core, Jen realized she had not taken a shower that evening like she usually did, disturbed at not knowing if the cause was the agent's demand or simply the circumstances of a late evening and her exhaustion.

********************

Both of them awoke to the ringing of their doorbell. Jen looked at the clock seeing it was 6:45am, pissed at the rude awakening. Although Dan typically woke up this early, she would normally sleep in until at least 10 or 11 am due to her late work nights. And this was her fucking weekend off, she thought.

The doorbell was replaced by banging on the door, urging them out of bed.

Dan was in sweatpants and a t-shirt so went downstairs to answer the door. Jen was still naked from the night before and upon hearing talking downstairs—the phrase 'FBI' coming to her ears—quickly got out of bed and pulled out one of her workout sets.

The set she grabbed was navy blue consisting of a cross-backed sports bra and matching sport skirt. The skirt hugged her hips, having drawstrings on the sides allowing her to adjust the length, but in her rush she left it as it was high up on her upper thigh. The sports bra held her breasts tightly to her torso, emphasizing her cleavage with the deep scoop neckline. She then pulled on a white lace thong and her matching navy blue and white Dansko Valerie Canvas Mary Jane shoes.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she admired the sexy outfit on her, realizing it could actually be something to wear during a set at work. Satisfied with her appearance she exited the bedroom and went downstairs.

Dan was standing in the foyer at the foot of the stairs talking to an obese elderly man. As she came down the stairs, they stopped talking, both watching her descend.

Jen saw their gazes follow her legs, a slight thrill running through her at their attention as she joined the two men. She always appreciated a man looking at her, her inner exhibitionist the reason she became a stripper in the first place. That the man next to her fiancé weighed over 300 pounds and seemed to have a permanent sheen of sweat on his forehead did not bother her, as a man was a man when it came to her cock-teasing traits.

The man nodded towards her, "Miss Simmons, I am Special Agent Vogel, in charge of your fiancé's relocation. The rest of the team is finished photographing this floor, so if you don't mind, I'd like to send them upstairs?" he asked her.

Looking questioning at Dan, he explained the agents were taking pictures of the entire house in order to know where everything was, both to decide where to put any surveillance equipment as well as know where everything needed to be placed once returned.

"You won't even know anything had been moved if we need to return everything," the fat elderly man told her proudly.

Jen watched as the agent yelled into the living room where four other men came out carrying various cameras and L-shaped rulers. Jen felt her pulse speed up as each man's eyes widened, looking at her appreciatively before going up the stairs. Again she felt a small thrill run through her at each man's gaze, feeling her breath catch.

Once the team had taken pictures of the upstairs rooms they brought in a large stack of boxes. One man began placing markers on their furniture, decorations, and pictures, while two others packed up the items like professional movers, wrapping everything as if it were the most delicate item on the planet. The boxes were inventoried while being packed and taped by the final man.

Jen noticed as the boxes were being packed the final man used different colored tape. Agent Vogel explained to them the red tape indicated the item identified her and Dan as a couple so would be placed in storage; blue indicated it was specific to Dan and would be moved to his relocation apartment; and green indicated questionable items. The green-marked items would be reviewed by an on-staff psychoanalyst who would better determine the context some items may be taken by people visiting. The items would then either be stored, brought back to the house, or taken to Dan's place depending on the connotation to their relationship.

Jen was amazed at the efficiency of the men packing. She thought they were contracted movers until Agent Vogel told her they were all agents tasked to this investigation. "Although Special Agent Geiger is the lead investigator, there are a dozen men assigned to the investigation, and everybody is up-to-date on all the recent breakthroughs," he told them, his eyes blatantly looking over Jen's body.

Once again she felt her body flush at the heavy man's attention. The way the agent looked at her she might as well not been dressed. Part of her uneasiness was due to being leered at in her own home, recalling her feelings being on display in front of Agent Geiger the day before. That embarrassment was mixed with the hidden delight at being admired by a man. The mixture of exhibitionism and awkwardness caused her to have a sense of helplessness that somehow aroused her.

Agent Vogel broke her musings as he told them, "I would like to personally thank each of you for the sacrifices you are willing to endure to put that bastard away once and for good," he told them, leaving no doubts in their minds at his feelings towards Charles DeWight.

Dan took Agent Vogel upstairs to review some of their items and clothes while Jen remained downstairs supervising the group's packing. She answered occasional questions when asked, but otherwise stayed out of the way, sitting in one of their bar stools in the living room.

Several times she caught each of the men looking at her intently, feeling her face blush at their hungry stares. At various times she caught one or another looking at her legs, ass, stomach, and chest ravenously, again feeling her body heat up. Although they were not rude—looking elsewhere when Jen looked towards them—their persistent stares continued to stimulate her exhibitionist side, her body involuntarily stimulated.

Jen wondered what was wrong with her; sure she enjoyed male attention, but this was unusual even for her. She recalled Agent Vogel telling her and Dan the men were part of the team assigned to DeWight's investigation and 'up-to-date on everything.' Abruptly she recalled Agent Geiger stating everybody on the team had seen the videos of her. She suddenly comprehended the men were not looking at her as a hot girl, or even a stripper, but as a porn star they had watched having sex! She wondered if their briefing to stay 'up-to-date' also included Geiger telling them he had fucked her.

These were not men looking at a hot woman and imagining her naked and wondering what sex with her would be like. These were men who had seen her naked, and knew how she responded during sex, having watched it with their own eyes. If they had been here last night instead of Agent Geiger, she would have ended up fucking them.

Jen felt her whole body flush in humiliation, embarrassment, and oddly excitement. Turning her head, another one of the men were looking at her legs appreciatively as she sat cross-legged in the bar stool. Realizing her skirt had ridden up almost to her hip, her pulse quickened.

The man seeing her looking towards him smiled this time, instead of turning away. Jen absently clenched her thighs together, appalled as she recognized her body's stimulation. The idea of these men having watched her have sex, and then been told she had consented to letting one of their own team members fuck her, caused a rush of emotions to wash over her. Her mouth became dry, her pulse quickened, and she felt her body's arousal. She was wet, and by the tightness of her breasts knew if she looked down, her nipples would be hard and visible through the sports bra.

Somehow the other men sensed the change as well, all seeming to take turns deliberately looking at her body; she was now the one to quickly look away, hoping the men would soon finish.

Even with their attention on her, the men completed packing the living room and study quickly. As the agents concluded the kitchen contained nothing indicating her and Dan as a couple, they headed up stairs.

Jen stayed downstairs to compose herself, fixing herself a cup of coffee before finally heading up the stairs.

Glancing into her bedroom, she was shocked to see the men rummaging through her underwear and lingerie drawers. Not wanting to see their looks as they fondled her intimate apparel, Jen went back downstairs to join Dan in the kitchen, along with a very sweaty Agent Vogel.

She remained in the kitchen even after the agents finished upstairs and moved into the garage, Dan and the heavyset man following them.

Unlike many garages where the man took over the area with tools, lawnmowers, and other equipment, they had converted the garage into a small practice dance studio, complete with mirrors, sound system and lights. Completing the ensemble was the familiar pole installed in the middle of the garage. Dan had often joked that the space looked more like a large VIP room than a garage.

Jen wondered what the men were thinking once they had seen her practice pole. She was not embarrassed by it—how could she having been a stripper for so long—but once again the idea of strange men looking at her outside the context of the club, having seen her sex tapes, and knowing she had sex with one of their team, made her feel uncomfortable.

As most of the items in the garage were hers, the men finished quickly.

In a few hours Jen thought the house looked gutted, neither her nor Dan realizing how much of their normal surroundings were part of their life together. As he left, Special Agent Vogel told them if they had any issues they could contact Agent Geiger or anybody on the team.

By then it was a little after 11:00 am, so her and Dan decided to drive to the address given by Agent Geiger the day before, stopping for a quick light lunch along the way.

As their Garmin led them downtown, both were absorbed in their thoughts. Jen wondered at the feelings she had felt noticing the men looking at her, as well as wondering what was becoming of her and the sudden changes to their lives. Dan was thinking along similar lines, wondering where the rollercoaster ride they had stumbled upon was leading them. The agents at the house had told him they would take him to his new-old apartment after meeting with the team, while one of them would drive Jen home. That caused him to think about being separated from her. They both remained quiet the entire trip contemplating the sudden upheaval of their lives.

Jen noticed they were entering one of the 'bad' areas of town, having already passed through the neighborhood where the Slithering Lizard—now the Wet Cherry—was located. She recalled Agent Geiger saying they had converted an old warehouse as their base of operations, so the area made sense; however, as they parked the car, they both wondered if the GPS had gotten the wrong address.

They were parked in front of an old—obviously abandoned—warehouse, the words 'Marvin Planking Co. - Lumber' barely legible on the outside. Numerous broken windows dotted the old brick building, and they almost turned around when Agent Geiger exited the building and walked up to them.

Jen had wondered how the agent would act towards her, having fucked her the day before; however, he treated her as any other person. It was her response she should have worried about as she became aware of her breath catching, the tightness of her breasts apparent as the agent talked to them. She felt a tingle between her legs as her body betrayed her calm exterior, as if knowing how the man could completely dominate her sexually and leave her satiated, even if her mind was detached and trying not to think of what happened between them.

She caught the agent looking at her deliberately as he asked how the move went, them telling him fine as he led them into the building. They passed numerous 'No Trespassing' signs attached to the walls and fence around the warehouse, walking through the barren concrete lot and coming to a heavy metal door which the agent had exited earlier.

If the FBI agent had not been with them they would have turned around, guessing the building to be vacant.

Entering and pausing as their eyes adjust to the dim light, Jen saw the warehouse was typical of a rundown storage facility—large amounts of debris, broken equipment and desks, intermixed with pieces of concrete and trash scattered everywhere. The light fixtures were all broken, the bare wires hanging down from the ceiling like vines, the only light being that coming through the already noticed broken windows.

Jen had a sudden flashback of being in a similar warehouse, naked and on her knees with her face pushed into a moldy mattress as her date and his friend double-teamed her from behind. She quickly pushed the memory away.

The agent led them further into the building, skirting several pools of stagnant, oily water on the concrete floor. Weaving through a pile of cinder blocks and dirt, they came to a brick wall dividing the warehouse, stacks of drywall and plywood strewn along the entire length.

Moving to one of the battered pieces of plywood hammered to the wall, Agent Geiger pulled on a rope nailed to one end, the plywood opening on silent hinges revealing a large room and light source on the other side.

As the couple made their way through the plywood doorway they stood amazed at the difference of the other side of the warehouse while agent Geiger closed the door.

This area was an unfinished office area, with unpainted drywall on the walls. The walls were covered with various papers and photographs, writing and lines made in pen and marker filling any white space left by the papers. The room seemed divided into three main areas, the closest containing various cubicles, some occupied by a few men; the area off to the side made up of a large walled off office area with windows looking out into the main floor; and the final region being wide-open. Fluorescent light fixtures lit the area, along with several floodlights in the corners, intermixed with the natural lighting coming in from the grimed windows above.

The separated office area was dimly lit through the windows, containing all sorts of electronic and computer equipment. The office took up a good third of the finished warehouse interior.

What struck Jen as completely out-of-place was the opened area, containing a rubber-matted area with two dancing poles in the center. Both poles extended to the high ceiling, and the dancer side of her wondered at the momentum she could get spinning down from the high height—the poles extending up at least 15-feet, she estimated.
"Welcome to our task force's command center," Agent Geiger told them. "This is the same layout we used in Houston, just relocated and brought here. The outside of the building allows us the anonymity needed, and even if somebody happens to come in, the outside interior typically deters them. The office area over there is our communications and computer room, and you already saw the dance studio," he waved towards the poles. "That was brought over even though Rachel disappeared," the agent said, his tone of voice getting sad.

Jen wondered at the relationship between the agent and his partner as he led them to the 'Coms Room.' Whenever he mentioned her the tone of his voice became quiet, her disappearance apparently more than that of a missing co-worker.

She noticed all the agents in the room were male; their appreciative looks focused upon her as she followed the agent to the walled office area. Once again her pulse quickened, knowing these men—as with the ones at the house previously—were fully aware of her sex taps, Agent Geiger fucking her, and everything else going on around her.

Climbing the three steps to the Comms Room, the agents' gazes on her ass was almost palpable as she entered the room, thankfully closing the door behind her.

Jen's skin was instantly covered in goose bumps—the room was at least ten degrees cooler than the outer area.

"I apologize for the cold room," Geiger told them as if reading their thoughts. "We have to keep it cool due to all the equipment," he explained.

Guiding them around a large cabinet of servers and other electronic equipment she could not identify, they came upon a young man sitting at a desk wearing headphones and watching a screen. From the corner of her eye she saw it was some kind of colored surveillance cameras—having seen similar views at the club—when suddenly she looked in surprise, noting the footage was inside their house!

Seeing the object of her gaze, Geiger told them, "Vogel did explain they were installing surveillance equipment, correct?" he asked.

Seeing Dan nod, Jen could only stare in stunned silence. There were three monitors, each split into multiple views toggling through different areas of the house. She saw the living room, study, and kitchen toggle through different views on one monitor. Another screen showed the garage as well as outside of the house at various angles—some from a distance she realized from cameras in her neighbor's yards. In the final screen she saw her bedroom, shocked when it toggled between two views of the bathroom—one pointed towards the sink, the other to the shower stall! Would she have no privacy in her own home, somebody watching her all the time?

Voicing her concerns, the agent apologized. "As we do not know if or where DeWight or any other DSA person may be, we need to monitor the house. There are some areas where you have privacy," he told her as if reading her mind, "the toilet, walk-in closet, as well as certain areas outside. Also, most of the time the only persons viewing the surveillance footage will be either myself or Nick here," he said, tapping the other man on the shoulder.

Seeing them for the first time, being so absorbed in what he was typing on the keyboards while watching the footage of her house, the man pulled off the headphones.

"Oh, sorry," he said, his eyes growing wide as he looked up at Jen, whispering, "Oh wow."

Looking down to the focus of his gaze, Jen saw the outlines of her nipples clearly through her sports bra due to the coldness of the room. She felt her face flush as she looked up seeing all the men's gazes—including Dan's—centered on her head-lighted chest.

Almost reluctantly the men refocused their gaze back to the computer screens. "Sorry," the nerdy guy apologized, "I am just finishing up calibrating the house cameras. We can do a sound check tonight after you get home," the man said looking over his shoulder at her. "Oh, by the way I'm Nick, the team's IT geek extraordinaire," he said to her as way of introduction.

"Nick here is one of the Bureau's top sound specialists," Agent Geiger said. "We were lucky to get him on the team. Without him, we never would have known about the jewelry, let alone known what to order," he told them.

Seeing the blank looks from her and Dan, the computer geek said, "These days it is amazing what you can do with technology," he told them, reaching for a large grey plastic case.

Opening the case revealed a large set of jewelry laying in corrugated foam, ranging from earrings to navel rings, necklaces, as well as a couple finger and toe rings, all of various designs and gem settings.

"Allow me to introduce the latest in stripper surveillance," he said smiling as if some hidden joke.

Seeing nobody else laughing, he shrugged. Jen could tell the man did not get flustered if people did not laugh at his humor, probably thinking he was above it as he looked at her.

"So, I can see you have your ears and navel pierced," he said approvingly looking at Jen's flat stomach containing her zirconium stud. "I don't suppose you left out nipple studs due to the tight outfit?" he asked almost hopefully, once again looking at her high beams sticking through her top as she shook her head. "Pity," he said more to himself.

Jen saw his hand reflexively clench as if thinking about holding her breast as she looked at him questioningly.

"Rachel has one pierced nipple," he told her in way of explanation, "and this entire set was ordered for her. Of course, they come in a pair, but..." his voice trailed off. Then looking up at her, he said eagerly, "How about tongue?" he asked, again disappointed at Jen's shake of the head.

"Can we make the set work?" Agent Geiger asked in concern looking at the man.

Nick looked at him as if Geiger had sprouted a second head, "Puh-leaze!" he told the agent. "I ordered this set," he emphasized, as if that explained everything. "It has fully interchangeable components, so we can configure it anyway we want," he told the other FBI agent proudly.

"Uh, what are you talking about?" Dan asked, echoing Jen's sentiments.

The computer guy waved his hands over the jewelry like a salesman displaying a prize. "As I said earlier, this is the latest in the Nick Gastinov's Stripper Surveillance set," he said, picking up a navel ring. "This here is a high definition camera." Then he grabbed a set of earrings saying, "The latest in recording sound gear. Since Diamond here does not have anything else pierced," he said questioningly, looking directly at her crotch as his voice trailed off.

Jen felt herself blush at the man's scrutiny as she told him "No," as he shrugged and continued.

"As I said, we can put the GPS studs in any of the rings or have one earring a microphone and the other GPS, although I recommend having both earrings having the sound system," he told them. "That way we can cover more area," he explained.

Agent Geiger's voice turned their attention to him. "Since the best way to get anything on DeWight is through Miss Simmons' contact with him, and her close proximity to the dealings at DSA, we need some way to record and document what is going on. Usually we stitch such equipment into clothing, but, well..." his voice trailed off.

Jen finished his sentence, "But being as a stripper doesn't wear clothes, you had to use jewelry."

Nick nodded sagely and went over the items and how they operated. Jen felt like she was in a James Bond movie and Nick was her personal Q, amazed at how the equipment looked like normal jewelry, yet contained highly sophisticated recording devices, surprised at their size. Nick reminded them how small cellphone cameras were, so why not smaller.

He then showed them a sample of the video within the navel ring, as well as sound recorded from the earrings over his computer. She was amazed the quality of both the video and sound. The gem was the actual lens of the camera, the facets allowing a panoramic view in high definition.

"There are two types of navel rings—a stud which gives only a 155-degree front view, as well as a hanging gem which has lenses on both front and back," he showed her, saying, "Rachel planned to hang them up in her room to give almost a 360-degree view," he explained. "The navel rings are video-only, so you need the earrings to complete the set. Most of the time we'll be receiving the feeds simultaneously, but if there is interference or something, the sound recordings contain digital time imprints which we can match up to the video to resynchronize," he told them, both her and Dan only understanding small part of what he said.

"Wait a minute," Jen said, realization of what all the equipment and house cameras meant dawning upon her. "Am I not going to have any privacy?" she asked.

"Oh no," Nick told her like she had asked the silliest question in the world. "Each set has its own On/Off switch," he explained. "For the navel rings, just turn the stud three times clockwise to activate it like this," he told her, demonstrating. "You can turn it as often as you want, but it needs three consecutive turns to activate. To turn it off rotate it the same way only counter-clockwise," he showed her. "The studs on the earrings and rings act the same way," he explained, demonstrating.

Holding up a jeweled stud he said, "The GPS gear on the other hand is always on. We used to have field agents swallow them, but everybody has different biological functions, and then there was that unfortunately constipation incident," he trailed off grinning at some inner joke.

Once again, seeing none of them laughing did not faze him as he continued talking. "Then there's the other gear," he said, holding up an odd keycard attached to a small box by a ribbon cable. "This is a neat little card reader. If you ever need to get into a room and not want the security logs register it as you, use this card. It will mimic the last keycard used, along with the timestamp and everything," he said proudly. "Anybody looking at a security log will simply think it was a double entry and ignore it," he told them.

Picking up two cylindrical tubes he said, "Of course, you have your standard camera and EMP device," he said as Jen recognized they were lipstick containers, recognizing them as MAC Pro Longwear vials. Holding up one of the vials Nick said, "I don't need to go into how you should turn off all your gear before using this, do I?"

Jen looked at him like he was speaking another language.

Nick continued once again unfazed, as if explaining electronic spy gadgets was something he did every day. "E-M-P—electromagnetic pulse. This lets out a small electronic wave that will knock out any electronics a couple feet away. It has a very short range so you need to be close to whatever you are hitting, and it takes a few minutes to recharge. It's useful for killing security alarms, cameras, and such," he told her, showing her how it worked without activating it. "Again, make sure all your jewelry is turned off before triggering it or you might fry it out. The jewelry is shielded, but no reason to take chances," he told her. "And before you ask, the GPS device is specially created to withstand such pulses, so it will be safe," he told her.

Looking at her stomach and moving his head around to blatantly inspect her ass, he asked, "Do you have any existing tattoos? It will be less noticeable to hide ours amongst an existing one," he said to her surprise.

"Tattoo? What tattoo?" Jen asked.

The computer guy looked over at Agent Geiger saying, "Dammit Pat, you have to warn people about this shit," he said shaking his head. As Agent Geiger apologized the computer guy looked at Jen. "As Agent Geiger should have explained," he said once more glaring at the man, "one of the additional items we need to place upon you is a ferromagnetic tattoo."

Seeing the bewildered looks on their faces he continued, "Surely you saw when Nokia leaked the release last year?" he asked. Not waiting for their reply he said, "We've had the technology for a while. Using a special ferromagnetic ink synchronized to your cell phone, we can excite the ink within the skin and cause it to vibrate when a specific number is called. It's the latest fad in super spy stuff," he said pompously.

"What kind of tattoo?" Jen asked.

"Well, I was hoping I could ink over an existing tattoo, as I thought all strippers have tats," he said oblivious to the stereotyping. The guy reminded Jen of a teenager without any filter between his brain and mouth as he continued, "I was an art minor, so I'm pretty good with the ink gun," Nick told her. "It doesn't have to be big mind you, at the most only a centimeter or so, just enough to catch your attention," he said. "I can make any design you want," he told her.

Seeing Jen's face he apologized. "I'm sorry Agent Geiger did not say anything, we can put it somewhere nobody will notice, maybe the bottom of your foot or something," the geek suggested.

"No, it's not that," Jen said, "It's just rather sudden," she explained.

The two FBI agents looked at each other, the computer guy frowning, Geiger all apologetic.

Jen had always wanted a tattoo; however, money being what it was they had decided not to spend it on frivolous items until they got married. She even had the design and location picked out, it was just with everything going on, she felt overwhelmed.

Looking at Dan, he shrugged. He knew of her desire for the tattoo, as they had discussed it, both agreeing to wait until they had gotten married and saved up some money. Although not outrageously expensive, all extra money was going towards the wedding, and the idea of getting it for free was a bonus.

"OK," she said, "where do I need to go and get it?" she asked.

As if there had been no doubt, Nick stood up. "Why right here of course, no time than the present," he said looking at her. "So where and what do you want?" he asked.

Without hesitation Jen said, "I want the Chinese symbols for Diamond, right here," she said, pivoting her left arm and pointing to the region just behind on her ribs, slightly to the back. "Is that possible?" she asked.

The computer guy glanced at her back briefly before his gaze moved to her left breast, pushed out towards him by her arm contorted behind her. After getting a good look at her the outline of her highlighted nipple he turned and typed briefly on the computer before asking, "This?" He pointed to the computer monitor and Jen and Dan both bent over to look at it.

Seeing the symbols on the screen, Jen actually got excited, saying, "Yes, those are them, can you do it?" she asked, "Only vertical, not horizontal," she told him.

"Hah," the computer guy said like it was a pointless question. "How big?" he asked her.

Jen told him she wanted them about two inches in height.

"OK, now the hard part," he told her, "have you picked out a style?"

Jen asked what he meant and he typed some more on his computer, bringing up a website called HanWords.com. Searching for 'Diamond' and reaffirming the symbols, he showed her the various styles available he would use as a stencil. Jen was overwhelmed by the different types of calligraphy possible as he let her sit down to choose her design.

Once she had chosen, Nick changed sets with her and typed a bit more on the computer. Soon the printer behind them started beeping and getting up, he placed a shiny piece of paper on the printer, printing out the letters.

"How's this?" he asked, peeling the paper away as she realized it was a clear stencil.

He too her to a full-length mirror on the door and held the stencil up to her back so she could get an idea of how it would look. Nodding her assent then went further into the room where he set up a portable massage table, asking her to lie face down on it.

"Have you taken any aspirin or alcohol today?" he asked as Jen climbed up onto the bench.

She told him no, inquiring why. He told her they thinned the blood and caused more bleeding.

Being this was Jen's first tattoo she was slightly apprehensive as Nick pulled out a briefcase containing a tattoo gun. Opening a sterile pack also from the briefcase, he attached a needle to the gun and took out a silver cylinder. Breaking the seal, he emptied the contents of what looked like an injection bottle filled with black fluid, obviously the ink.

Looking back at her, Nick blushed. "Uh, you're probably going to have to take off your top," he told her, turning around to give her some privacy.

Jen sat up and pulled off her sports bra, handing it to Dan. Suddenly she realized Agent Geiger was standing against the wall unashamedly staring at her bared chest. Blushing, she recalled how less than 24 hours ago his hands had been all over these breasts, ejaculating upon them. As her face blushed, her nipples—already hard from the cool room—seemed to tighten even further.

Quickly hopping back onto the massage table, she rolled over onto her chest, sucking in her breath as her bare breasts hit the cold vinyl of the table. She suddenly gasped again as a cold cloth hit her back as Nick cleaned the area.

"Just so you know, this will probably hurt like a bitch—rib tats always do," he told her regretfully.

Jen nodded, reaching for Dan's hand as the buzzing of the tattoo needle began.

Nick was right—it hurt like a bitch, but not as bad as she thought it would. After only a few seconds Dan turned away, still holding her hand but facing the windows and looking outside at the office area. She remembered he was squeamish around blood, knowing even the tattoo was probably more than he could take.

Once the first symbol was completed, she was able to lean up on her elbows, the stance stretching her shoulders and creating a different focus for her to not dwell upon the pain. Her breasts hung below her, but as the incessant buzzing of the tattoo gun echoed throughout the room, she was oblivious to anything other than taking deep breaths to get through the pain.

As Jen concentrated her thoughts away from the pain, she slowly became aware of a slight weight on her left ass cheek. Being something else to focus while the needle pierced her skin repeatedly, she realized it was Nick's right hand—and he was feeling her ass!

She did not say anything, at first thinking he was too absorbed in applying the tattoo to have any knowledge of where his hand was placed more-than-likely for balance. Then she became aware of the subtle motion of his hand in a circular motion. Too shocked at the audacity of the young man, she still did not know if he was even aware of what he was doing until she let out a gasp when he clutched his hand, openly squeezing her ass cheek!

"Oh, sorry this is so painful," Nick told her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Jen did not need to turn around to know the man was smiling as one hand worked the tattoo gun and the other gripped her fleshy buttocks.

Dan was still looking out the window at the other office area, but she saw Agent Geiger was smiling, seeing him watching the other agent. His gaze then moved to below her face, where she realized her bare breasts were hanging. When his gaze moved back to her ass being fondled, she glanced down and noticed a distinctive bulge in his pants.

Forgetting the needle repeatedly piercing her skin, she thought about her predicament. The combination of pain, being topless and on display to one man, and having another man she had just met grope her ass—all while she was holding her fiancé's hand—was overwhelming. She was overcome by a rush of feelings--embarrassment, humiliation, helplessness, and arousal.

She had the image of being a piece of meat on display, a prospective owner squeezing a fine steak for its juiciness while other customers looked at the other displays before them.

The feeling was overwhelming as Jen almost imperceptibly squeezed her upper thighs together, her breathing more rapid. She clenched her Kegel muscles, knowing she was getting wet, her body's arousal paying no heed to her mind trying to ignore what was happening.
Her nipples—already hard from the cold—seemed to petrify, her slightest movement causing them to brush against the vinyl of the table she was lying on exciting her even more.

Finished with the second symbol, Nick moved his chair slightly as he started on the next one.

Jen suddenly let out a gasp, a slight moan also hidden in the intake of air as she felt Nick's bare hand—no longer gloved like the other—begin to stroke the bare skin of her upper thigh at her skirt's hemline!

While the tattoo gun continued its ceaseless buzzing, Jen's focus changed from the pain created by the artwork being imprinted upon her by Nick's left hand, to the sensations of his right hand as he slid it back and forth between the outside and inside of her thigh, the rasping of his rough palm over her soft skin turning her on even more.

In almost a daze, no longer in control of herself, Jen slowly spread her legs apart, letting her feet hang off the sides of the table.

"That's good Diamond," Nick's voice came from behind her, "keep it up," he said.

Jen knew he was talking about her new position, knowing Dan would only take it as a comment about her overcoming the pain, her fiancé still looking out to the outer offices, unaware of how she was getting felt up right next to him.

Suddenly Jen yelled out, the loud "Oh!" probably heard outside as well. Involuntarily she tightened her grip on Dan's hand, feeling him squeeze back to comfort her; however, it was not sudden pain from the tattoo that had set her off, but the unexpected sensation of Nick's hand reaching beneath her skirt and cupping her mound.

Jen began to moan softly as the agent rubbed her slit, unable to contain herself.

She once again felt Dan's hand squeeze hers again and she looked up, seeing he was still looking out the window. Sensing movement, she looked to the right and saw Agent Geiger openly grinning.

Seeing her gaze upon him, Geiger said, "I think I'm going to get a better view." Walking behind Dan and around Jen on the table she heard him say, "Oh yes," from behind her, "this is a much better view."

Jen could sense the obvious amusement in his voice knowing he was now watching his fellow agent feel her up.

"Oh God!" Jen gasped as the agent's finger slid into her wet slit, having moved aside her thong.

"Just one more symbol," Nick's voice came from behind her. "You need to ride this one out," he said with obvious enjoyment.

As Nick's fingers began to finger-fuck Jen, she could no longer control herself as she began moaning, the high pitched sounds coming with each breath as her core was manipulated. Almost unconsciously she began moving her hips, following his orders to 'ride this one out' as she humped his hand.

Jen closed her eyes, giving in to the sensation of being digitally stimulated by the agent. No longer focused upon the tattoo or pain, she became aware of a soft squishing-suctioning sound repeating beneath the sound of the tattoo gun as Nick's fingers sloshed into her wet snatch.

Speeding up even more, his hand began jackhammering into her. Jen felt her orgasm build and suddenly one of Nick's fingers began slamming against her clit and Jen came, her mouth unable to hold back her release as she once again yelled out "Oh God!"

Her vaginal muscles clamped down on Nick's fingers as he rode her through the orgasm. She became aware of him talking, and as her body settled from his release realized he was repeating, "That's a good girl, ride it out, it's almost over," to her.

Dan was oblivious to the whole thing, merely holding her hand while unbeknownst to him his own fiancée was finger-fucked next to him.

Following her release, her shame began to overwhelm her. How could she have allowed this? What was she thinking? Her thoughts were racing through her mind as she felt her skirt pulled back down her ass.

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head to the left, seeing Nick holding up his wet hand. As she looked at him, he slowly and deliberately raised his fingers to his mouth, licking off her juices like finishing a good meal.

After that he went back to finishing the tattoo.

Jen could only lay there wondering at her actions. A mixture of shame, exhilaration, remorse, arousal, and humiliation flooded through her as Dan continued to hold her hand.

After what seemed like forever she finally heard behind her, "Well, that's that."

Nick swabbed off the area, spraying on some disinfectant and placing a cellophane bandage over the tattoo as Jen winced, once again feeling the pain. He told her she should remove it when she got home and clean it with some gentle soap and water, but could leave the bandage off. Then he took some electric gadget and held it over her back until a soft 'beep' came from the machine before stepping back.

"You can get off on the table any time," Nick told her with a smile. Dan looked down to help her sit up, not catching Nick's meaning and probably thinking it was a slip in speech as Jen sat up blushing.

Not willing to let it annoy her—her own shame and embarrassment were enough without his comments—she moved across the room to the mirror, admiring the sleek Chinese letters running up her back, just behind her left arm. She attempted to push what had happened to her out of her mind as much as possible, focusing on the tattoo as she held her arms above her head to better see the artwork, impressed at how smooth and distinct the lettering appeared.

Looking back into the room to thank him, she saw both Nick and Agent Geiger openly admiring her bare breasts. As they watched, she deliberately strutted to Dan, taking back her sports bra and putting it back on, unashamed at her chest.

Although the bra laid over part of the top lettering of the tattoo, the pressure was slight, the pain stinging but bearable.

Once she was adjusted, her nipples uncomfortable from the combination of cold and arousal against the tight material, Nick went to his computer saying, "Let's try it out," he said.

Suddenly Jen gasped as the skin on her back where the tattoo was began vibrating as if it were crawling beneath her tender skin.

Seeing her shocked face, Nick laughed, "I guess it works. We'll try not to bother it any more until it heals in a day or so, and only activate it when we need to get a hold of you or something happens. Multiple pulses—5 or so until the phone switches over to voicemail—means to contact us at your earliest convenience. A solid long pulse means you need to get out of wherever you are immediately, no if's, and's, or but's," he told her as she nodded in understanding. "Finally a single pulse every once and a while means you need to turn on your surveillance equipment as a reminder," he told her, obviously having had to do this speech before.

He had Jen repeat the three scenarios, her feeling a bit odd about having some sort of technology embedded into her skin as he nodded. "Now for the rest of your gear," he told her, reaching for the grey case full of jewelry.

He took out a pair of earrings with what appeared to be blue sapphires as well as a couple rings and a navel hoop.

"We only need to calibrate one set, then I can work the others based off the readings of those," he told her as he got up.

Taking the earrings he moved up to her, invading her personal space as his body almost touched her own as he took out her current earrings. With the new ones in his hands he reached up again and held her ear lobe. She was surprised when subtly leaned into her, his chest resting against her breasts when he suddenly whispered, "Pat's right, your pussy is tighter than a virgin's on prom night."

Jen's eyes opened in surprise, and if that was not surprise enough, the agent leaned further against, feeling his erection against her thigh as his tongue glided up her neck to her ear lobe!

Jen gasped in surprise, looking over to Dan as Nick backed away; however, he had not noticed the intimate contact.

"There, that's that," Nick said with a smile. "Sorry if I poked you," he grinned as he moved to her other side. This time Jen was prepared as he repeated the process of putting on her earring, as well as licking her mastoid area.

Jen's body reacted immediately to the blatant inconspicuous behavior, her body covering with goose bumps and her nipples budding even more. Her body's reaction was mostly due to her recent vaginal stimulation as she backed away from the man to prevent him from doing anything further.

Looking over his shoulder she saw Dan and Agent Geiger looking at her, both apparently unaware of what had occurred, Nick's head and body blocking his actions.

She gasped startled as cold hands ran across her stomach, looking down as Nick worked on her navel ring.

"Sorry, cold hands," he said apologetically.

He undid her navel ring and replaced it with one of the studs from the case, the blue sapphire matching her current outfit.

Leaning back, he held out the rings to her saying, "I suggest wearing at least two rings with GPS trackers at all times—probably a toe ring and a finger ring. Sometimes photo shoots don't want a lot of bling on your hands, but photographers typically don't mind toe jewelry. Just in case, if you cannot wear any rings you can substitute a GPS in your earrings," he said, showing her how the pieces could be interchanged with each other.

"There are also some necklaces and chokers, but Rachel said they didn't work well with dancing," he told her as she took off her right shoe and slid on one of the smaller rings to her middle toe. The finger ring she put on her right hand's index finger.

"Now, if you don't mind, walk around the room a bit so I can calibrate the video feed. That's good," he said as Jen moved to the mirror, then paced back and forth.

"OK, now Patrick, can you walk up to her and say something in a normal voice?" he directed as he put on a pair of headphones.

Agent Geiger moved up to Jen and said, "Hello Miss Simmons, my name is Patrick Geiger, Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation," turning to look at Nick who nodded.

"OK, now whisper something in her ear," the computer guy directed.

Jen stood still as Agent Geiger leaned into her, her eyes opening wide as he whispered, "I can't wait to feel that tight pussy around my cock again."

He backed up smiling as she blushed.

Nick laughed before saying. "OK, that's great, but we're going to need to test it against all the movement from dancing as well as the noise from the club. And we need to do it in the surveillance van so I can compensate for the walls and shit. And probably a distance test to see how far reception is," the computer guy said to nobody in particular.

"What do you mean?" Jen asked the man, moving close to him as she looked at the monitors, too intrigued about all the spy gear she was wearing to think about how the computer guy had groped her.

Going into an 'instructor' type voice, Nick explained. "As you know, a club is noisy, so in order to calibrate the sound we're going to need to test various conversations while there is music playing and the background noise of a crowd. I can then tune out the noise to hear what is being said. In addition, I have to factor in any interference from other electronic devices, the walls of the clubs, even the distance between you and our surveillance van, so I know the proper levels to boost the frequency if needed and compensate for the interference.

"It's no biggie," he told her as her technical understanding only understood a part of what he was saying, "we can calibrate the rest of your gear tonight or tomorrow when you work again," he told her.

"Wait," Agent Geiger said behind them, everybody turning their attention to him. "Nick, she's flying out to corporate headquarters tomorrow, we need this shit working tonight," he told the man. "Tonight's her night off, she can't just walk into the club and dance without a damn good reason," the agent said.

"Fuck," Nick muttered under his breath. "I guess we can test the loud music," he finally said. "This warehouse has pretty good acoustics, and I have speakers set up out in the outer area," he told the other agent. "I can park the van outside for building interference, even drive away to test the distance and frequency boosts. The problem is compensating for the dancing; her moving around and shit is going to jostle everything, and we don't know if something is going to kick out without a practice run. Hell, the rasping of clothing over her head alone could be enough to knock out the sound or mask a key conversation," he explained. "And tuning out a crowd without a test run is going to be rough, I'd hate to miss something important without a dry run," he told them.

"Fuck," he again muttered. "We need more time," he said to himself.

As the two men talked, Jen absently looked out the window into the other office area, again noting the oddity of the dancing area with its two dance poles. Suddenly she got an idea.

"What if I perform here?" she asked.

All three men in the room looked at her in surprise, Geiger saying, "What?"

Jen nodded out the window towards the poles. "He said the music could be played out there, but not know how to compensate for me dancing. I can work the pole out there. The other agents could mimic a crowd. Hell, with music and the poles I could do a whole set," she said matter-of-factly.

Dan looked at her like she had sprouted a third head as she asked the agents, "Would that work?"

Nick nodded, "We could definitely get readings, but we'll need to do two sets," he said, obviously positive with the suggestion. "Once we get everything compensated, we'll need to have a dry run to make sure the configurations work, maybe a bit of fine tuning to adjust for some of the background noise," he said. "But we'll need to test background conversations as well," he said.

Agent Geiger spoke up, "We have the team here, and I don't think they would mind being the guinea pigs," he said looking at Jen. "If you don't mind?" he asked.

"Wait a minute," Dan said, drawing their attention to him standing in the back by the massage table she had gotten her tattoo—and orgasmed. Jen felt ashamed to have forgotten him as she had gotten caught up with all the gadgetry. "You expect Jen to perform for your team?" he asked incredulously.

"Honey, it's the perfect idea," she told her fiancé. She noted both the agents said nothing, letting her lead the discussion. "They need to test the equipment, and this way we will know everything will be fine when I fly to LA tomorrow," she told him. "Besides, it's not like they haven't seen me naked, isn't that right Agent Geiger," she asked, putting the man on the spot.

"Uh...," he stammered. "Yes, all the men have reviewed the tapes of you dancing and such," he said, confirming her thoughts earlier in the day of the men having watched her have sex.

"See," she told Dan, as if the men sworn to protect their country watching her have sex was a good thing. "It's the perfect solution to the problem," she told him.

"But..."Dan's voice trailed off as Jen looked at the agents.

"Could you excuse us for a minute?" she asked.

The two men nodded and left the room, her unaware of how unusual the circumstances of them being here were. It was a strict protocol to not have any non-Bureau person in the room to begin with, let alone leaving them alone; however, procedure was the last thing on their minds as they shut the door, going to the other agents and explaining what may happen.

Meanwhile Jen talked with Dan. She recognized his reluctance for her to dance, but knew if they were really to go through with this, he needed to get over with it. She reminded him this was all due to Mr. DeWight, resurfacing all his past mental abuse and her own exploitation until she knew Dan was angry enough and nodded his head.

As they exited the office area and came down the steps Jen noted there were more men than earlier, recognizing the large rotund figure of Agent Vogel and the other agents who had been at the house earlier, having returned after completing the move. Agent Vogel's face was again sweating profusely, the collar of his shirt darkened by his perspiration as he looked over at her ravenously and waved.

In fact, all the men were looking at her hungrily she realized, aware either Agent Geiger or Nick—she forgot his last name—had told them what was going on. The men were like kids in a candy store, she realized, shaking her head at the typical maleness. It did not matter if they were federal agents or steel workers, the fact a stripper may be performing for them caused them to all act the same. She silently chuckled at how her and the girls kidded about how the testosterone poisoning their brains made every man act the same.

Jen was mentally getting into her stripper persona, in preparation for actually following through with her suggestion. She rationalized the agents had already seen her fucked on video, so a striptease in person was not as bad.

Dan was still nervous, but he said nothing. Agent Geiger asked how she was and she shrugged, saying it was nothing she had not done a thousand times. Once she started dancing and her stripper persona would kick in, it would just be another performance she rationalized to him.

Then a thought struck her. "What about music?" she asked, realizing her MP3 DVD's were not in the car. The agent asked if she could just play the radio, but she told him with the commercials and all it would be more like merely doing a few moves than an actual set.

"Well, Nick did say to make it as realistic as possible," he told her. "He is out in the van getting everything ready but said he needed a full set, maybe even longer than usual to make sure not only the sound and video was calibrated, but that the charge on the devices would hold. Nick, you catch that?" he said.

A moment later the computer guy came into the room to them. "Agent Nick Gastinov comes to the rescue again," he said, handing Jen an iPod. "The only thing on it is 80's music," he told her somewhat embarrassed as the other man laughed.

Jen briefly scrolled through the list, recognizing some songs she had danced to in the past. As the list kept scrolling she inquired how much music was on it, finding out there was over 8 GB of early rock songs.

"I can definitely put something together with this," she told him. "Can I use one of your computers to see it better and make a playlist?" she asked.

Nick took her to one of the computers in the cold office, plugging the iPod in so she could make a playlist.

Leaving her alone in the room after telling her they needed about 20 minutes for each set, he went outside to talk to Dan.

It was only then she realized Dan had not followed them into the office, instead standing outside. She knew he was upset, watching as Agent Geiger and Nick talked to him. She was surprised when Nick and Dan left the room together, neither of them returning even after a few minutes.

Agent Geiger came in as she was about to go and ask what was going on, telling her Dan was out in the surveillance van to help Nick set up for the run.

As she looked at him in surprise, he said, "I know how much it bothers him to see you dance," the agent told her, "so was able to convince him to stay in the van with Nick. He'll be able to see and hear everything that goes on from the van, so won't miss anything, but I figured he would be more bothered watching you dance in person in front of all the guys," he told her.

Then he looked at her seriously, asking if she were ok with this.

"Well, it's not like it's my first time," Jen laughed, seeing the agent blush. "I figure this is no different than a private party. I've done my fair share of bachelor parties, so this should be nothing too different, other than it's for a bunch of FBI agents. The added bonus is none of the private engagements have poles, so I can do a full routine just like the club," she explained to him.
Agent Geiger stayed in the room as Jen looked through the iPod music, again amazed at the number of songs from the 1980's the computer guy had in his collection. She absently wondered if he had every song written in that decade as song after song scrolled through the list. Finally she had two playlists created, both slightly over 20 minutes, knowing nobody was going to complain about her dancing longer.

As Jen looked at the two playlists she created, she wished she had been able to plan better. She had intended on just taking off her current outfit twice, but her OCD kicked in wanting to give a good show, even if it was 'unofficial' in front of a bunch of FBI agents. The exhibitionist side of her reasoned she could at least give them a cheap thrill, knowing they may be observing her doing much worse in the near future.

Seeing her frown, the agent asked if there was something wrong.

"It would be nice if I had a different outfit for the second set," she told the agent somewhat reluctantly, telling him she knew it sounded ridiculous but the performer within her wanted to give a good performance, even if it was a spur of the moment thing.

The agent looked at her a moment as if recalling something he had forgotten. "Actually, Rache ordered some stuff right before she disappeared," he told her. "We brought it here with the other items, but nobody's opened it, so I don't know what's in it. It could be another outfit, it could be make-up, it could be nothing, but if you want to see what's in the package, maybe there something you could use?" he asked.

Jen noted the man talked of the female agent using a shortened name only somebody close would use, feeling sorry for the man as she told him it was worth a shot to see what was in the package.

He led her out to the main office area and past the dance floor where there was a storage area filled with boxes. It took only a minute for him to find the box in question as he handed it to her. He then showed her the bathroom where she could see if was anything to wear and if it even fit as he left her alone.

Alone in the seclusion of the bathroom and left to her own thoughts, Jen felt more vulnerable. What was she thinking of doing a striptease in front of a bunch of FBI agents, she wondered.

As she had mentioned to Agent Geiger, it was not like this was new, being something she did four nights a week. And she was honest about treating it as a private party. Reasoning it out a bit more, she was able to calm herself as she unpacked the box.

Seeing what was inside, she started laughing, knowing the outfit in the box would be perfect. The outfit came complete with accessories and shoes, which she tried on and although small, were wearable. She did not bother trying on the outfit after checking the size, knowing it would fit, as well as the fact that even if it did not, she would not be wearing it too long.

Satisfied and feeling better at having two outfits, songs, and a plan, Jen left the packages in the bathroom, planning to change there for the second set.

She went back into the computer room to make a couple changes to her playlists. Knowing what outfits she would be wearing allowed her to pick some songs she knew would work better. Once she was satisfied with her picks, she placed them in the queue for the sound system like Nick had shown her.

As she came out she saw all the agents moving furniture around, dragging several round tables they had used in their eating area near the rubber mats and setting up folding chairs. She was again reminded of the private bachelor parties she danced at, amused at how consistent men acted when about to see a naked woman dance for them.

Since they were almost set up, she went to inspect the poles, cleaning them off with some wipes one of the agents lent her and began to stretch out and loosen up.

********************

As Patrick Geiger watched the hot bodied stripper walk to the poles and begin warming up, he again admired her perfect ass, thinking about what was happening around him. If somebody would have told him their informant would be doing a striptease in front of the entire team he would have laughed his ass off. And not only was she doing it, but she had suggested it herself!

He had been completely caught off-guard at Nick's brazen fondling of the woman—as well as her acceptance of his touch. It had been thrilling admiring her bare breasts while she got the tattoo, but when he saw Nick rub the woman's ass, then move his caress lower to her upper thigh, Geiger had gotten so hard he could barely stand up straight.

One reason for his surprise was because the computer geek was, well, a typical computer geek, shy around any and all women. Geiger knew Nick had watched the videos of Diamond, but he had done so alone, whereas the other agents had watched the videos like a stag film—on the large screen together while making rude comments the entire time.

Sure it was unprofessional behavior, but men would be men and his boss figured they needed to blow off some steam after working this case for so long without any leads.

Nick's daring was further compounded by Geiger's second observation, that of the fiancé not aware of the fondling of his woman. Patrick had observed the fiancé staring out the window. Although he held her hand and was supportive, he did not look down at her once the tattooing had started. The agent realized the man was probably squeamish over blood, the firm set in his jaw reminding Geiger of the previous night when he had fucked the woman right in front of him.

His final surprise had been when Miss Simmons spread her legs apart on the table.

The woman's cry of "Oh!" brought his attention back to what Nick was doing, seeing his right hand beneath her skirt, his forearm moving vigorously. In amazement Geiger realized the computer nerd was finger fucking her!

Unable to stand it any longer, he said to nobody in particular, "I think I'm going to get a better view."

Walking around to the other end of the table—Mr. Jeffries not even moving at his fiancée's cry of pleasure—Geiger reached the end of the table and bent down, watching in fascination as Nick's fingers mercilessly plunged into the woman's core.

"Oh yes," he said from behind her, "this is a much better view."

Completely dumbfounded at Nick's audacity, he watched incredulously as the woman's hips began grinding against the junior agent's hand. Meanwhile the geek was telling her shit like "Good girl, ride the pain," right in front of her fiancé.

Patrick wondered how in the hell the man could stand there while his woman was fondled by somebody else, moaning in pleasure. Then the FBI-trained aspect of him took a mental step back. Taken out of context, the woman's cries of pleasure could be construed as pain, his eyes transfixed at the sight before him as Nick's hand moved faster and faster.

Suddenly the woman cried out, "Oh God!"

Her hips began convulsing wildly, her pelvis grinding further onto Nick's hand as she orgasmed. The sight was memorizing as he wondered how Nick could keep focus on the tattooing while still finger fucking her.

He almost laughed out loud when Nick said boldly, "That's a good girl, ride it out, it's almost over," while the woman's hips slowly ground her core against his hand.

Eventually he pulled his hand out, lowering her skirt which had ridden over her ass. Geiger watched in amazement as the woman turned her head to look back, watching as the computer geek licked off his fingers right before her!

When the tattoo was completed Special Agent Geiger had not been surprised when the stripper had gotten up and not put her top back on, only doing so after Mr. Jeffries handed it to her. Recalling her submissiveness yesterday after having sex with her, he wondered if she would have kept the top off if ordered her to do so.

He pushed such thoughts out of his mind. After breaking every rule in the book by having sex with an informant, he did not need to keep dwelling on her sexually and preying upon her weaknesses; however, Nick had no such qualms as his daringness continued.

Geiger watched as the man put on the surveillance earrings, moving close to the woman. He obviously had done something, as she immediately looked at him in disbelief when he moved away. Geiger noted her nipples were once again bulging from her top, ready to burst through the material while he attempted to maintain his composure.

He finally lost it when the woman suggested she could dance for the equipment calibration. The calibration was something definitely needed, as he had known Nick long enough to know when it came to technology, the techie did not bullshit, but her suggestion was completely unexpected. Mr. Jeffries' response on the other hand, was completely predictable.

Leaving the room while the woman talked to her fiancé, Geiger recalled her being the rational one the night before as well. She had known what DeWight would be doing to her was inevitable, while Mr. Jeffries was the irrational grasping at straws. Based upon his observations of her previously, he had no doubts she would convince her man to let her dance.

While the couple discussed the matter between themselves, he talked to Nick about taking Mr. Jeffries with him when they did the calibration.

"Just explain to him he will see everything that goes on first-hand, as well as know what we ourselves will be observing as the investigation progresses," Geiger told the computer guy. "Offer to 'show him the ropes' so he doesn't worry about what is going on."

Getting rid of Mr. Jeffries served another purpose as well, as Patrick knew how wild the guys behaved when hitting strip clubs in the past. Here in the office without any bouncers they would only be bolder. Mr. Jeffries did not need to see his fiancée treated like a piece of meat right in front of him by the men who were to protect her.

The camera would limit his view, only displaying what happened in front of her at waist level, so if any of the guys copped a quick feel, it would likely go unnoticed by the surveillance equipment.

He did not trouble himself worrying about the woman. After watching Miss Simmons'—no, Diamond's—reaction to Nick's intimate handling, he had no concerns over her objecting to the other agents' advances.

After Mr. Jeffries had left—as he predicted—Geiger watched her warm-up by the poles.

Walking over to her, he asked if she were nervous, to which she replied, "Well, I'm treating this like a private showing, you know, like a bachelor party," she explained. "But usually I have a little liquid courage to calm my nerves," she admitted.

"What's your poison?" the agent asked, knowing he and a couple others had a bottle in their desk. She told him vodka on the rocks and he went straight to his desk, pouring her a generous amount in his coffee mug, adding a few cubes from the ice machine as he walked back to her.

Surprisingly she downed the entire thing in two gulps, accepting a refill from him before saying she had enough.

Both she and Geiger was surprised when the fluorescent lights turned off, putting most of the warehouse in darkness. The floodlights in the corners of the room nearly blinded him as he saw two of the junior agents—Tony Mancini and Alex Hildrum—adjust them towards the two dancing poles, serving as decent stage lights.

The poles reminded him of Rachel practicing at the command center before getting hired at the Cowboy Fish Club, DeWight's main Houston club. She had requested the poles be installed at the warehouse—one stationary and the other a rotating pole—so she could practice on site. Although he had been impressed at her routines, after seeing Diamond perform he knew the woman before him was in a league of her own. The way she seamlessly moved on the pole from one move to another, in time with her music, was pure art.

"I guess that's my cue," the hot woman next to him said.

The agent smiled at her saying, "Nick, if you're ready, one long for yes, multiple for no," he said seeing the girl look at him questioningly.

Her look instantly turned into surprise as he laughed when she said, "I guess he's ready," knowing Nick had activated her vibrating tat.

Geiger moved off the rubber mats into the mix of tables and chairs occupied by his fellow agents. Several of them had poured drinks, their chief giving the approval for them to indulge. There had been no leads in the investigation for so long, everybody was pumped to actually be doing something. They had already been tasked their assignments—most of the Special Agents working Diamond's angle, the others on Mr. Jeffries—so with the two of them here at the command center, they could let their hair down a bit so-to-speak. The agents were divided thusly as nobody thought Mr. Jeffries' infiltration into DSA would be as lucrative as Diamond's. She would be going to all the main clubs, being thrown into the thick of things by virtue of her providing much of the 'entertainment' for DSA; Mr. Jeffries, after all was said and done, was nothing but a suit, a pawn in DeWight's empire.

The room quieted down as Diamond walked to the stationary pole, turning her back to the 'audience' and gripping the pole, her legs parted slightly, in preparation for her set.

********************

As she took position in front of the stationary pole, Jen nodded to the FBI agent in the office who would start the first set of music she had picked. It was a tough set to put together, the computer guy having some 80's fetish; however, she had spent a good hour picking the songs and felt she could give a good performance.

And she was treating this as a performance, as if it were a private party or dancing venue outside of the club. She had to think of it as an engagement, as the thought of stripping in front of a dozen FBI agents was too weird to absorb.

She noted the room had gotten quiet until the first beats of Joan Jett & the Blackheart's 'Do You Wanna Touch Me? (Oh Yeah!)' began to play. As the steady beat commenced, Jen seductively swayed her ass back and forth, her arms raised over her head grasping the pole, knowing her long legs and ass were the focus of most of the men's attention.

The music echoed through the warehouse, giving it a 'live concert' vibe and causing her to feel the familiar thrill of being the focus of attention on stage. The two large drinks she had were calming her and as the first words to the song came across the loud speakers, Diamond turned around.

Moving her body seductively to the heavy beat, she ran her hands over her body, her hands sliding over her breasts, down to her pelvis outlining her crotch with her thumb and fingers splayed while she open and closed her knees, scissoring her legs seductively. She swayed around with her back to the audience again as her hands slid down her legs, bending over with her ass pointed to the crowd to their loud approvals.

She then slid her hands back up her long legs, gripping the hem of her skirt and raising it up as she straightened, her hips swayed seductively as she pulled the skirt back and forth, up an down, knowing she was giving them brief glimpses of her bare ass cheeks. Pivoting slowly around to face the crowd, she continued to tease them as each hand moved, her skirt flashing her lace-covered mound.

As the first refrain of "Do you wanna touch" came across the speakers Diamond looked imploringly at the guys in the audience, mouthing the words to the refrain while squeezing her breasts within the sports bra as they shouted "Yeah!" in answer and in time to the song.

She could not see the men due to the floodlights shining upon her, but from their increasingly loud banter knew she was breaking them in.

When the first 'Do you wanna touch me there," echoed through the warehouse, Diamond quickly grabbed her crotch through her skirt, to the approving yells of the agents now getting into the act. Then she slid her hands up her bare stomach and cupped her breasts once more to the repeated refrain. As the last part of the chorus echoed she once more cupped her mound. While the song repeated 'there, yeah," Diamond put her other hand behind her hair as she moved her hips, humping her hand exaggeratedly as she did a body wave. She continued to undulate her body as the men shouted "Oh Yeah!" with the song.

After the refrain she strutted across the stage as well as she could in her low-rise shoes while her hands continued to move across her body, warming up the crowd. She continued to tease them by pulling her skirt up occasionally as she walked back and forth.

When the refrain played again she once more faced the audience, only this time dropping down to her haunches as she slowly spread her legs. Once again as the first "Do you wanna touch me there" sounded through the room she cupped her crotch before sliding her hands over her scissoring legs, repeating the refrain and letting her hands slide over her breasts.

When the repetitive "Yeah, oh yeah" part of the chorus came Diamond sank to her knees, crossing her arms and grabbing the bottom hem of her sports bra. As the men cheered she slowly raised the bra up and over her head, tossing it to the side as her full naked breasts fell into place to the agents' applause. As Jon Jet continually sang "Do you wanna touch," Diamond began to massage her breasts, her hips undulating in her crouched position.

Finally as the song drew to a close fanned her legs out and rolled over to her hands and knees, crawling to the pole and grasping it with her hands. As the song began to fade she pulled her feet up into a handstand, slowly raising her body until upside down against the pole, easing some of the weight off her hands by wrapping her ankles around the pole as the song ended with her completely inverted.

Jen could feel a thin sheen of sweat on her body from the heat of the floodlights and her warm-up song. The first song was generally used to loosen up for a pole routine, so as she held herself inverted, she mentally went through the freestyle pole routine she was about to do.

When the beginning of 'Word Up!' by Cameo began playing, Diamond slowly spread her legs until she was in a completely inverted split, then hooked one leg around the pole and slid down to her shoulders in a slow dismount, lowering her feet and planting them firmly on the rubber mat, raising herself to another squatting position. She remained crouched at the bottom of the pole alternating kicks to each side as her breasts bounced with her body's movements. Then she slowly stood up, her body sliding up the pole seductively.

Locking her foot by the ankle and pressing the top of her foot on the pole along with her knee, she reached up and began to climb the pole. She heard the men cheering the higher she got until she reached the high vaulted ceiling of the room. Gripping the pole tightly she pushed out, doing a body ripple for a few seconds before throwing her hips up and her legs out, spreading her legs out and performing a chopper move, flashing her crotch to the crowd below to their delight.

Diamond became focused on her moves, oblivious to the song as she flipped again to an invert, absently noting how her breasts rotated at the change in gravitational pull. Locking her arms, she made a slow walking on air move to the crowd's yells of approval, stopping briefly perpendicular to the floor before continuing her 'walk' down to the pole. She again split her legs in a "V" and re-inverted herself, repeated the walking move, ending again in another invert.

Looking down Diamond noted she was higher on a pole than ever as she positioned her hands and thrust her ass up and out. While the last half of the song played she slowly caterpillared down the pole, her movements exaggerated, her breasts jostling with each motion to the crowd's delight as she appeared to calmly worm down the pole. Due to her slow, exaggerated descent, the song had almost ended before she reached the bottom, slowly sticking her feet and body out perpendicular to the floor in a flagpole position as she finally lowered herself to the floor.
The next song she chose in order to give her arms a rest from the pole, having done most of the routine inverted and holding her body's weight with only her arms. As the steady beat of Love and Rockets 'So Alive' began to play she rolled onto her stomach, her breasts chilled against the rubber mat. Slowly she raised her ass up and got on her knees, her ass pointing to the crowd as she raised her legs and fanned them out as she pivoted in the air, once again giving the crowd a quick glimpse of her lace-covered crotch as she kneeled up facing forward, her bare breasts exposed to them.

Diamond fell forward began crawling on her hands and knees into the scattered audience of FBI agents. She seductively swayed her hips while her breasts slowly swung beneath her. As she entered the crowd of men, she felt several hands on her skirted ass as a few of the men became bold enough to stroke her back and even her thighs as she crawled through them, enjoying the feeling of being the focus of a group's desire.

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkening light, she made out the large shape of Agent Vogel in a chair. He appeared to be made up of all belly with arms, legs, and a head. Locking her gaze on him, she began crawling towards him purposely as the steady beat of the song played.

Once she reached him she braced her hands on his knees and slowly raised herself, swaying her body seductively, thrusting her bare breasts into his face. She reached up and massaged her breasts, her hips swinging as she stood, then turned to the crowd to show them her manipulations as she continued with her lap dance, he ass swaying in front of the obese agent.

She was slightly startled when the elderly man grabbed her bare waist, but years of dancing did not betray her surprise as she continued to dance seductively. She lowered herself into his lap, swirling her ass against his crotch, not surprised at the stiff member in his pants while she leaned back against his chest, continuing to massage her tits. She felt Vogel's hands move around to her stomach, slowly moving down to the "V" of her pelvic bone, then sliding over her skirt to the tops of her thighs.

While she dry-humped the overweight man, his hands spread her legs apart with his hands to the roar of the crowd, his sweaty palms wetting her skin.

Planting her feet firmly on the ground, Diamond rose up, her back to the agent as she bent forward and reached under her skirt. Deliberately she pulled down her lace thong, feeling the material spring free of the crack of her ass. As she continued to pull the sides down her thighs she again felt the material jump free from her wetted slit, her body aroused from the recent fingering and dancing. Diamond continued to lower her thong before slowly stepping out of it, knowing bent over as she was, Vogel was getting a full view of her heart-shaped pussy, her body's arousal increasing.

She continued swaying between his spread legs as the song slowly ended, massaging her breasts occasionally to the cheers of the agents around them.

The next song was one of her all-time favorites, so as Robert Palmer's 'Addicted to Love' began to fill the warehouse, she strutted over to Agent Geiger, her hips swaying excessively. While the song played she put her legs around him, sinking into his lap and hooking her legs on the back of his chair. In time to the music she began dry humping him, her tits swaying at her movements while cheering came around her as she first leaned completely back, then pulled herself back up, using her legs hooked around the chair as leverage.

She was not entirely surprised when the agent reached up and grasped her breasts, roughly massaging her tits with his hands. She let her head fall back, her long hair fanning out around her back while her chest thrust forward. After a bit more groping she lifted one leg, fanning it out to the agents on the left side of them and pivoted around, hearing their approval as they saw her bared slit.

Finishing her move she was now sitting in Geiger's lap facing the crowd, his hands still firmly grasping her tits as she continued to swing her hips in his lap. The men now screamed their approval as their fellow agent fondled the hot stripper before them.

Diamond's head fell back against his shoulder as his fingers clamped down on her nipples, the rest of the crowd cheering loudly. She kept dry humping him as he felt up her chest, alternating between pinching her nipples and gouging his fingers into her yielding flesh. Finally she rose up and slowly danced near a few more tables before moving through the crowd back to the poles as the song ended.

She jumped up on the pole as 'Tuff Enuff' from the Fabulous thunderbirds began playing, spinning around and doing several moves—the fireman, 360 fan legs, then a triple followed by a reverse crunch, ending on the floor in the splits. Worked up from the agent's groping, she worked out the built up sexual tension on the pole, her body covered with a glistening sheen of sweat as she performed her routine. It was as if she were in a trance as she did her freestyle routine, each move occurring spontaneously without thinking about it, letting her body go.

Occasionally she would dismount on the floor, doing the splits or raising her hips and doing inverted splits towards the group of men to their obvious enjoyment, knowing her shaved pussy was visible to all of them.

After a particularly difficult move involving a jade split, butterfly, and superwoman combination, she did another shoulder dismount down the long pole.

Turning towards the group she once again moved into the crowd, strutting to the music. This time there were noticeable gropes of her ass and legs as she danced for the men sitting around tables.

She was completely bent over one table, her breasts smashed into the top and bulging beneath her as the song ended.

She slowly rose, taking deliberate steps towards the spinning pole as Whitesnake's 'Here I Go Again' began playing. She felt a pair of hands slide up her thighs and grasp her ass beneath her skirt, the fingers briefly touching her slit as she continued to the pole. Slowly she spun around the pole, using the moving metal to keep her momentum going as she slowly raised her body, the perpetual motion of the pole making the room spin.

As soon as the beat increased she pulled her legs out, slipping and doing an inverted climb up the pole. Performing another superwoman with her body perpendicular to the floor, she slowly pushed her body out, walking around the pole as the momentum of its spin turned her around. She did several more moves before finally sliding down to the ground in the splits, once again crawling out to the crowd.

Reaching the first table she slowly rose and took two agents by the hand, pulling them to the front of the stage. She did a slow, seductive dance between them as the guitar solo played. Then, taking each of their hands, she guided them to the waistband of her skirt giving them a nod. They smiled in return, slowly dropping down as they pulled her skirt off to the cheers of the crowd.

Diamond was completely naked except for her shoes as she danced on the mat between the two agents. Finally they became embolden and as she turned she felt her ass grabbed by two hands, each cheek encased in a palm. Looking over her shoulder she smiled at the agent cupping her butt cheeks. Suddenly she gasped as the other agent likewise grasped her tits to the rest of the crowd's delight.

As the song ended the men continued to cheer. She gave a hug to the two men on the 'stage' as each took the opportunity to give her ass another grab as her embrace pressed her breasts against her chests.

She then made her way naked to the restroom to get ready for the next set.

As she was unpacking the next outfit Agent Geiger knocked upon the door, telling her Nick had gotten most of what he needed; the rest should be completed with her next set. He still wanted to do a distance check, but could do that after her next routine.

He also brought her another drink, which she thankfully accepted, cracking open the door to take the mug. She saw him holding her skirt and sports bra out to her as well.

"The thong is missing," he told her apologetically, "but we have our best field agents on the case," he said with a grin.

Jen could not remember a private event where she had not gone home missing some piece of clothing, patrons always after a souvenir. It was nothing new to her, her body getting a cheap thrill knowing somebody would probably be sniffing her scent if he had not already.

Unpacking the rest of the outfit the female FBI agent had ordered, Jen was surprised at how many layers it consisted of, originally thinking it to be a cheap outfit; however, she realized it was a top-of-the-line outfit, taking note of the distributor to check them out online.

Sorting through the packages she was perplexed when she came across two sets of panties, then smiled as she put first one, then the other on.

Next she slid the skirt up her hips, noting it showed off a good third of her ass when she thrust it out, knowing the front would flash the men just as much when she danced. Diamond tied the top around her chest, consisting of an extremely sheer cloth, the outlines of not only her areolae but entire breasts visible, feeling her nipples harden at the seductive look. Over this she put on the half-cup bustier, lifting her breasts up and further exaggerating her cleavage.

Putting the final piece on she looked at herself in the mirror, grinning at the response she was about to get from the men, who did not know the outfit she was wearing. She was missing one thing she thought, surprised it had not been included; however, as she rummaged through the packages she smiled when she found what she sought, putting the final accessories on.

Ready for the next set, she turned off the bathroom light and cracked open the door, telling Agent Geiger she was ready for the next set and to start the music. He handed her another drink which she gratefully accepted, downing it as he walked away to let the agent at the computer know to start the next playlist.

********************

As he sat in the stuffy van, junior agent Nick Gastinov could not help but feel like he was being punished. Here he was, locked in the cramp surveillance vehicle with a civvie, while the rest of his team were treated to a personal striptease by one of the hottest women he had ever seen.

His being here made sense, as he was the most junior member of the team, and more to the point, he was the only one who knew how most of the equipment worked. He felt a flush of pride at the knowledge, as all the other agents, both junior and the senior 'Special Agents'—his mind mimicking a pompous voice and putting mental quote around the title—had no clue about technology. Hell, half the time he had to log in to the agents' own machines because they could not remember their passwords.

Even knowing he was the only one capable of calibrating the surveillance gear, it felt like a punishment; stuck in the van with Mr. Jeffries while the man's hot fiancée stripped in front of his other team members.

Still, he had gotten his own little treat which the agents would not have, smelling his fingers for the umpteenth time, closing his eyes as the faint musky odor of the stripper's cunt filled his nostrils.

Nick had been awed at the woman's beauty when he met her. Although he had known she was beautiful from her videos—having watched them alone repeatedly as he wacked off to her image—in person she was breathtaking. He recalled looking up from his computer at her, staring in surprise as her tight nipples almost poked him in the eye from her body's response from the chilled room.

Although uneasy around beautiful women, he quickly became absorbed in his craft as he described the various surveillance equipment to her, forgetting she was a sexual object willing to give her body to anybody; shit, even Gieger had fucked her.

He could tell neither she nor her fiancé were that technical, so tried to 'dumb down' his explanations as much as possible, but knew even dumbed down half of what he explained went completely over their heads.

Looking at the man next to him, he once again wondered how he could put up with his woman stripping, displaying her body to strangers. Not having any filter between his brain and mouth, he asked, "So how do you do it man? How do you let your woman—who is a complete babe, by the way—how do you let her strip for other men?"

He saw the set of the man's jaw and realized this was a sore spot for the man, surprised when he actually answered. "Honestly, it makes her happy," Jeffries said.

Nick scoffed at the comment, but instead of being upset, the man asked him, "Have you ever been in love?"

Surprised, Nick replied, "I've had my share of babes, yeah," he said.

The man shook his head saying, "No, I mean deep down, willing to die for type of love. That's what I feel about Jen. This makes her happy, so I put up with it. It's hard to explain, but even with all this," he waved around him at the surveillance gear," even with all this going on, she enjoys it. When you find the right woman you'll realize it," he told the computer guy.

Nick only shook his head, at least agreeing he did not understand, but he had heard that in bizarre situations significant others were known to do bizarre things. He recalled some of the stories Geiger told from his days on the police force in Vice, how even perfectly happy married women would spread their legs to stop him and his partners from arresting their husbands.

He thought nothing more of it as his inherent attention deficit disorder took hold, explaining some of the equipment to Mr. Jeffries as he set it up.

He turned on the monitor in front of him—the van having several scattered around them—and typed on the keyboard. Immediately the image of a long, muscular and obviously female leg appeared on the screen, the foot wearing a canvas low-heeled shoe.

"Ah, there we go," he said, pointing to the monitor.

The leg disappeared showing the wall to the warehouse as the camera shifted erratically a few times.

"What she doing?" Jeffries asked looking at the picture. The video feed looked like somebody with epilepsy was recording it, being worse to watch than even the Blair Witch Project.

Nick looked at his phone, the display showing an image from one of the warehouse office room's cameras, seeing the woman on the mat by the stripper poles stretching out. Geiger had told Nick not to tell Jeffries about the other cameras in the room, so he kept his phone turned away so the man would not see what was on the display.

"My guess is she's stretching," he told the man wisely, having just seen it on his phone. "See how the camera tilts when she bends, turning to the side as she twists. She must have been stretching her leg muscles when we turned on the image," he told the man, like he actually knew what the fuck he was talking about.

The image turned around and Nick saw Geiger walking up to the woman. Through the headphones he heard the entire conversation as he calibrated the pitch and volume of the feed.

"Nervous?" he heard Patrick say in a muffled voice. Boosting the reception on the sound, he made a few adjustments to the equalizer as the woman's voice came back loudly.

"Well, I'm treating this like a private showing, you know, like a bachelor party. But usually I have a little liquid courage to calm my nerves."

The woman's voice had too much reverb, so he made a few more adjustments.

"What's your poison?"

Geiger's voice was much clearer, but had a high-pitched tinny sound as Nick made a few more adjustments while the woman answered.

"Vodka, on the rocks."

He glanced at the camera seeing Geiger walk away as he adjusted the color and contrast of the video feed.

"The video quality is amazing," he heard behind him, almost startled. Nick had almost forgotten the man behind him. "For how small it is," Mr. Jeffries said.

"Latest state of the art," Nick told him. The feed showed Geiger walking back to the woman with a coffee mug as Nick grinned and said, "Watch this. Although we are limited by the lens of the camera being stationary in the stud, we can make minor pitch and yaw adjustments. The equipment was designed to be at waist height, so there is some compensation possible," he explained to the man behind him.

Nick hit the zoom on the camera, pivoting it towards Geiger's crotch. Adjusting the focus a bit more he froze the image, showing the outline of Geiger's semi-erect cock. Next he took a stylus, tapping on one side of the outline, then the other, a line drawing automatically between the two points displaying '2.18"' over it, measuring the distance between the two points.

"Impressive, isn't it?" he asked.

Nick was in full computer geek mode, so he was talking about the technology; however, as the man answered him, he realized his blunder and the misinterpretation.

"Not from my view it wasn't," the man muttered.

The junior agent realized less than 24-hours ago the focus of the image had been buried to the hilt in the man's fiancée's cunt, recalling the report of Geiger's liaison with the couple. The feeling of the woman's pussy squeezing his fingers came back to his mind as he wondered how tight it would have felt to Geiger with that monster in his pants.

He quickly apologized, saying he understood how all this could be difficult, trying to explain how he had been talking about the technology. "I wasn't trying to throw the fact of him sexing your girl in front of you in your face," he said bluntly, truly apologetic.

Once again he realized he should heed his grandmother's words to keep his mouth shut 90% of the time as he saw the man wince.

"Christ, does everybody know?" the man asked in a plaintive voice.

Nick tried to console the man, but being how he was, he was not sure he helped. "This is an active investigation Mr. Jeffries," he told the man, "so anything of significance is reviewed by the entire team. The more eyes on the case the better we may interpret anything going on. In this case with all the new information about Diamond's contract, you not being buddies with DeWight like we had originally thought, and the possibility of both of you working for the case it is understandable us wanting to rule out any issues that may arise. I'm sorry this is happening, but as I'm sure Geiger explained, it is not us to blame, but Charles DeWight and what he is doing," he said.

He again saw the set in the man's jaw knowing he was obviously upset, but not going to cause a problem as Nick focused once again on the surveillance equipment, the image of Pat's cock still on the screen.

Nick wondered how his buddy could have gotten that monster inside the woman, again recalling how tight she had been around his two fingers.

He had not planned on fondling the woman. In fact, he had been completely disconcerted at how striking she was, dressed in her tight spandex two-pieced outfit. Her breasts were a prominent part of her body—more so with her nipples reaching out from the tight fabric—as well as her long legs, tight ass—Hell, Nick thought, she was perfect in every way.

After getting over his initial anger at Geiger for not explaining to the woman about the ferromagnetic tattoo, he was surprised when she readily agreed. Her acceptance made sense when she explained she had wanted a tattoo for years. He had found the design she asked for easily, having learned about the Chinese Symbol site from doing other work on agents. All the field agents going undercover got similar tattoos, providing a means of communication not detectable and readily available.

The last one he had done had been Rachel's tramp stamp, the loss of his buddy's partner and girlfriend brief as his hyperactive brain remembered he hot curve of her ass as he had done her tattoo.
Nick's inner shyness once again took hold when the stripper took off her top before lying on the portable table. He recalled how perfect her breasts were on the videos, and seeing them in person was downright inspiring. As he set up the equipment he kept glancing at them bulging out from the woman's sides as she laid face-down on the table. Even though he was not a large breast man, their perfect symmetry and firmness on the woman's frame was undeniably awesome.

Warning the woman of the pain, he saw her take Mr. Jeffries' hand for support. Once he began, he also noticed the man turn away; his jaw set like it was now.

Nick had immediately and completely understood the man's reaction. When he had first joined the Bureau he had been queasy around blood as well, but after the second body you looked at, you either learned to deal with it or took a desk job.

Then again, as the 'IT guy' his job was mostly deskwork, but at least on this investigation he got to move around a bit, even if stuck in the van.

As he turned on the tattoo gun and began outlining the symbols onto the woman's skin, he paid close attention to the stencil and lines; however, once the outlines were drawn, the rest was just filling in the symbols, so he leaned back and relaxed for the dull job of filling in the symbols.

About halfway through the first symbol he realized his hand was resting on the girl's ass, his attention shifting focus to his right hand while his left worked the tattoo gun on autopilot. Barely believing where he had inadvertently placed his hand, he admired the dichotomy of firmness mixed with soft yielding flesh beneath his palm as he pushed down subtlety.

Finishing the first symbol, he briefly refocused his attention on filling in the second symbol before turning his concentration back to the more important hand. Slowly, almost imperceptibly he began sliding his hand along the firm buttock, his pinky sliding down the depression in her skirt from the crack of her ass, then sliding up and around. He gently pushed down, his eyes on the firm yet yielding flesh as it moved with the pressure of his hand.

The woman had not made any indication she was aware of what he was doing, lying still as he filled in the Chinese symbol with one hand and rubbed her ass cheek with the other. He knew it was impossible for her not to know he was rubbing her, the globe of flesh yielding to the pressure of his hand.

Taking her lack of response as approval and embolden by her acceptance, he suddenly clutched his fingers, gripping the yielding flesh forcibly as he squeezed it within his hand.

The woman let out an audible gasp, but otherwise remained still.

Nick was still filling in the square portion of the symbol as he said, still clutching her ass cheek, "Oh, sorry this is so painful."

Hearing a soft snort he looked up at Patrick, the other agent watching him fondle the woman's ass while she lay upon the table. He grinned at his fellow agent as his tattoo gun finished the second symbol, his other hand continuing to grope the soft mount of flesh, once again amazed at both its firmness and softness.

Nick felt her ass tighten up, the slight movement of her legs drawing his attention as he observed her pressing her thighs together. He was surprise at her reaction—obviously one of arousal—which emboldened him further.

Once again focusing his attention on the tattoo gun, he dabbed the excess ink and blood from the second symbol, then prepared to fill in the third. He slid his chair down a bit further so his left writing hand would be more comfortable and began filling in the third symbol.

He noted since he shifted position to make his left hand more comfortable, his right was now torqued slightly as it fondled the woman's ass through her skirt.

Empowered by the woman's reaction—and lack of objection—he slowly slid his hand down until it rested on the soft flesh of her upper thigh, just below the hem of the skirt. He had taken off the glove of that hand earlier, not needing it for filling in the tattoo, so the flesh on flesh contact almost made him groan.

The woman was not so reserved, as he heard her gasp, a soft moan escaping her lips on the next exhale as he felt the back of her thigh. Now fully comprehending she was not only aware, but compliant with his hand touching her, he slowly slid it back and forth, alternating between the soft flesh on her outer thigh to the soft warm inner portion, as the tips of his fingers slid between her thighs.

He slowly squeezed the soft flesh of her inner thigh as she moaned once again; however, this time she did react, him almost pulling his hand away as he perceived her moving, watching in amazement as she spread her legs apart!

Nick knew her acceptance of his fondling could not be made any clearer as he said behind her, "That's good Diamond, keep it up."

With her invitation evident before him, he moved his hand beneath her skirt, grasping her crotch, the heat and dampness heavenly.

Immediately the girl jerked, her loud exclamation echoing through his office as she cried out, "Oh!"

Beyond the obvious reaction to his feeling her up, the woman did not make any objections as Nick slowly slid his hand up and down, rubbing from the back to the front of her cleft.

The woman began whimpering, her soft moans almost inaudible at first, as he continued to rub her slit through her damp underwear.

His concentration on rubbing her crotch was broken momentarily as Geiger announced from across the room, "I think I'm going to get a better view."

Nick looked up seeing Geiger staring straight at him, or at least his hand between the woman's legs, as the agent moved around the room, coming to the end of the table. Bending over, he looked up the woman's skirt at Nick's hand caressing her mound saying, "Oh yes," as he smiled. "This is a much better view."

Nick was just finishing up the third symbol, knowing he was almost completed as his hand moved and his fingertips ran up and down the wetted cloth, feeling the depression of the woman's slit through it. Again the woman moaned as he teased her through her underwear, his movements causing the cloth to sink into the folds of her pussy.

Focusing briefly on the fourth symbol to get his bearings Nick realized he would have no other opportunity than this. As the tattoo gun began filling in the final symbol Nick slowly slid his fingers to the edge of the cloth, feeling the hot, moist flesh of her labia. Throwing caution to the wind, he pushed forward, immediately sinking three fingers into the woman's canal.

"Oh God!" the woman cried out loudly as her vaginal muscles clamped around his fingers.

Nick began working his fingers in and out of the woman, slowly fucking her with them as he consoled, "Just one more symbol." He increased the pace of his hand plunging in and out of her core as he told her, "You need to ride this one out."

He was not sure if the woman understood his innuendo, but then smiled as her hips begin to move, complying and riding his hand with her hips as he skewered her repeatedly.

The stripper began moaning and Nick looked up at her fiancé, who was still looking through the window at the outer office area. It was unbelievable he was finger-fucking the man's woman right next to him as he continued to fill in the fourth symbol with one hand while his other hand thrusted in and out of the her snatch.

He sped up his invasion of her core, feeling her hips and pelvis shift and move with his motions while she moaned.

Over the buzzing of the tattoo gun he began to notice the soft but rapid 'slush-slish-slush-slish' sounds coming from his vigorous movements in and out of the woman as she continued to moan.

Nicks hand was moving as rapidly as possible as he fucked the woman with it, her hips moving with him when suddenly she cried out, "Oh God!"

Immediately he felt her pussy clamp down on his hand, her vaginal muscles actually squeezing his fingers together as he recognized her cumming on his hand. "That's a good girl, ride it out, it's almost over," he said, letting his hand rest.

Amazingly the woman's hips continued to thrash, such that even though he held his hand still, her movements caused his fingers to glide in and out of her.

Gradually she slowed her hips, finally lying still with his fingers still wedged between her cleft inside her.

Slowly he pulled out, her muscles clamping down again as if attempting to hold him inside her. He then pulled down her skirt which had worked up halfway over her ass before looking up towards the end of the table. The woman finally moved, looking back over her shoulder at him, meeting his gaze.

As they looked at each other, Nick brought up his right hand, still slick with her fluids, and slowly sucked his fingers as if he had just finished a good chicken dinner.

The woman closed her eyes, turning back around as he once again focused on finishing the final symbol, which went quickly now that he was concentrating on it fully.

The monitor going black broke his reverie as it then flashed brightly.

"What the Hell?" he muttered, wondering what was going on with the video. Ignoring Mr. Jeffries' query he once again glanced at his phone, seeing the office lights had been turned off. The bright light was the reflection of the floodlights shining upon Diamond, the faceted jewel in her bellybutton refracting the light.

He made a few adjustments to compensate and once again had a clear picture of the office area.

It was odd to be looking at the eager faces of his team as they sat facing him.

Over the headphones he heard the woman's voice say, "I guess that's my cue."

Panning the video back he once again saw Patrick's full body, hearing the man say, "Nick, if you're ready, one long for yes, multiple for no."

Reaching across the dash Nick pushed a button labeled 'DTL.' He chuckled knowing none of the agents on the team would figure out what the acronym stood for, thinking 'Diamond Tattoo Long' was the perfect label, right next to the obvious 'DTS' button.

He heard Patrick laugh over the headphones saying, "I guess he's ready," as the woman's surprise at the tattoo once again coming to life was probably evident on her face.

The camera shifted until a large shiny metallic object filled the screen, and it took Nick a moment to realize it was one of the stripper poles the woman was facing. Glancing down at his phone, he observed the woman braced against the pole with her back to the crowd, her legs spread.

His headphones began filling with music, recognizing Joan Jett's "Do You Wanna Touch Me?" begin to play as the camera view moved left and right of the pole. On his phone screen he saw the woman swaying her hips wildly, wishing he could put the image on a bigger screen; however, following Geiger's orders, he kept the full footage video under wraps.

The camera once again turned towards the crowd, the video immediately compensating for the bright light as Nick patted himself silently on the back for his calibration.

The video kept swaying back and forth as he guessed Diamond was dancing to the music in front of the guys. He could hear cheering over the headphones as her arms angled into the view. Based upon their position and angle on the screen, he did not have to look at the phone to know she was grabbing her crotch.

He heard the guys start to repeat "Oh yeah!" as the camera shifted and swayed up and down as Nick surmised she was dry humping her hand.

After the refrain the camera spun to the side, jostling up and down, back and forth as the GPS showed her moving to the north of the room and building, then the images repeated as the GPS moved to the south, the woman strutting back and forth across the improvised stage.

Suddenly the camera dropped a couple feet. Nick pivoted the camera view down and saw the woman's legs spreading and closing in beat to the song as the men cheered as she danced crouched down. He could barely see the hem of her skirt, knowing his fellow agents were probably getting a good look at her panty-covered crotch, absently smelling his hand again.

Hearing the group of agents sing with the refrain—"Yeah, oh yeah"—the camera jostled again as the group of fellow agents went wild. Unable to contain himself from wondering at their excitement Nick looked again at his phone, seeing the woman had pulled off her sports bra, her naked tis jostling as she swayed on her haunches.

The camera view shifted quickly until Nick was looking straight at the rubber mat about two feet above, watching the view move erratically as Diamond crawled forward. The view once again shifted and he looked strangely at the screen, wondering what was wrong with the video. The picture was completely upside-down.

Glancing at the phone yet again, he realized Diamond was inverted on the pole, the camera flipped over as the song ended.

"How can you tell what's going on the way that screen is constantly moving?" Jeffries asked behind him.

Nick explained they were not filming a documentary or high priced film and that most of the footage while Diamond was dancing would be ignored. "As you can see," he said waving to the monitor, "it's like watching a video camera mounted on a rollercoaster," he laughed. "What we're really interested in is what goes around her. For example," he said, typing on the keyboard, pulling up a frozen frame of the crowd.

Grabbing the stylus on the desk, he circled one of his fellow agents, the picture immediately zooming in, automatically focusing. He typed some commands on the keyboard and immediately the agent's profile came on screen.

"Facial recognition," he said in way of explanation. "What we're interested in is who will be around her. We can also tune out the music and hear bits of conversation around her," he told the man.

Knowing the man was antsy as his fiancée danced and stripped for his team members, Nick asked if Mr. Jeffries would mind driving the van around the building. "I want to test the reception with the van in motion. Once you circle the warehouse a few times, we'll see about driving around the block. Eventually once everything is tuned, we'll want to drive further away to see how good reception we can get," the computer geek explained.

Truth be told, Nick had most of the data he needed to compensate for distance and various environmental obstructions; however, it would not hurt to test things out. In actuality, he wanted to keep Mr. Jeffries busy so he could watch what was going on in the office without any more interruptions, possibly putting the room cameras on one of the monitors the man would not be able to see while driving the van.

Once the man was behind the wheel Nick did just that, turning on the monitor behind the driver's seat and displaying the feeds from the main office cameras, watching Diamond doing her pole routine. Hitting the record option, he zoomed in on her body while she worked the pole topless to Cameo's 'Word Up!'

He stared in amazement at her body strength, holding her body out with just her arms as her athletic body was admired not only by him remotely, but the agents she was performing in front of. He stared in amazement as she slowly crawled inverted down the pole to the ground, her ass pointing out, then straightening, and then repeating the move as she worked down the pole, ending her descent on her stomach.

His eyes were transfixed as his ears filled with Love and Rockets' 'So Alive,' watching Diamond crawl through the crowd of agents—several copping feels of her ass—dancing first for the agents before making her way towards Vogel. She did a seductive lap dance for fat bastard, slowly turning away from him and bending over as she slid off her panties—no, thong, he corrected zooming in at the cloth around her ankles. He watched as she displayed her vulva to the man who stared greedily at her, cursing at the camera angle and not being able to see her completely.

Nick watched in excitement as Vogel slowly reached out, knowing the man was going to impale the woman with his fat digits. Suddenly she stood up, the song ending, not even aware of what had almost happened.

He turned and glanced back at the belly-cam...

He chuckled at the sudden nickname; his attention distracted as he printed out a label and stuck it to the monitor's bezel.

The camera bobbing and swaying on the screen once again drew his attention as he saw Geiger getting closer, knowing the woman was strutting to him to the tune of Robert Palmer's 'Addicted to Love.'

Knowing he would not be able to see anything from the belly-cam, Nick rotated his chair back to the full room view mounted behind the driver's seat, watching as the topless—and now pantyless—beauty gave Geiger a lap dance similar to Vogel's.

Nick looked on in awe as his buddy grabbed the woman's breasts, kneading them roughly as she gyrated in his lap, smiling at him. Absently Nick rubbed his hardened crotch as the stripper turned around to face the audience. Once again Geiger grabbed her, this time pinching her nipples.

The woman screamed in apparent delight, grinding herself into his lap as the agent continued to maul her breasts in front of everybody and the men around her cheered him on. Nick zoomed in the camera until the entire screen was filled with Geiger's hands squeezing the succulent flesh, alternatingly pinching her nipples.

Having a sample of her voice, Nick typed on the keyboard and turned a sound dial, focusing in on her frequency as the headphones began to play her moans and grunts loudly while her breasts were openly fondled. The background noise was almost non-existent as the woman sounded like she was in the throes of sex, his mind recalling earlier when he had finger-fucked her.

Nick watched the rest of her performance with envy, wishing he were there to see it in person. Even with all the technology, the act of being there in person was much better. Her incredible pole routines and sexy movements—cumulating in her being completely naked, had him wishing Jeffries was not present, wanting to wack off and relieve the tension in his trousers.

When the belly-cam revealed Diamond's next outfit, Nick almost said 'Fuck it' and headed back inside, his cock turning into concrete when he saw her reflection in the mirror as she changed. Then the lights went out and he saw a thin line of light, realizing she had turned out the lights in the bathroom and cracked open the door, probably telling somebody to start the next set.

********************

When Patrick Geiger sat back down with his fellow agents, they started joking rudely with him.

"Holy shit Pat," Tony Mancini, one of the junior agents on the team said, "please tell me those fucking titties are real!"

Max Shook, one of his fellow senior Special Agents, laughed. "Of course they are real," he said. "Fake tits wouldn't move like Jell-O on the pole like that, didn't they teach you anything at Quantico," he laughed with the others.

Pat took a long pull from his mug of vodka, remembering the woman grinding herself on his lap. Even though he had felt them before, he had been drawn to her succulent breasts, grabbing them the moment she was near him. He smiled thinking of her reaction as he crushed her nipples, remembering how much she had enjoyed it the night before as he fucked her from behind. Her response was no less enthusiastic as she ground her ass further into his erect crotch.

He had tried to contain himself, but she was like a match to gasoline, igniting his libido instantly; he realized given the opportunity, rules or no rules, he would fuck her again...and again and again.

"So Pat," Max said breaking his musings, "was she tight?" He started laughing as Geiger's face gave his answer away. "Hot damn, can't wait to watch that bitch fuck again. You lucky bastard! Who else could be so lucky as to be ordered to fuck a hot broad for the Bureau," he said clapping Geiger on the shoulder.
Everybody stopped talking and turned back to the 'stage' as music once more resounded through the room from the speakers. Geiger recognized Motley Crue's version of 'Smokin' in the Boys Room.' The intro played and Diamond had not yet come out of the restroom, but as soon as the drum fill came and the full song started, the restroom door opened.

Immediately the room erupted in male cheers of approval. Even Geiger got into the mass howling. He had never heard so few men make so much noise as wolf whistles, catcalls, and all sorts of cheers echoed through the warehouse at the amazing sight of Diamond in her outfit.

Skipping out of the restroom straight to the poles she was dressed as a hot schoolgirl. She had on a red plaid skirt that bounced up to her hips as she skipped, revealing a ruffled, panty-covered ass. Her top consisted of a long-sleeved red woolen cropped sweater several sizes too small, her breasts pressing against the material as if trying to burst out while her cleavage bulged out of the deep V-neck of the sweater. Her bare midriff displayed the blue naval ring as thoughts of Nick missing the show came to mind.

Accompanying her outfit she had on white ruffled ankle stockings and what he estimated were at least 7-inch spiked heel black platform shoes—the epitome of stripper shoes; however, what made the entire outfit was her long auburn hair in pigtails, tied high on her head with red ribbons.

She showed her true profession as she gracefully skipped to the pole in her obscenely tall pumps, making the movement look natural and completely sexy in the tall stripper shoes. Reaching the pole she jumped up, spinning around as her plaid skirt fluttering around her hips, then flipped her stripper-shoe-covered feet over her head, blatantly flashing her ruffled panties.

As she spun she tucked her knees in, then twisted and extended her arms and legs out from the pole, her body completely parallel to the floor. Spreading her legs and dropping down a few feet before stopping with her arms, she thrust out her body perpendicular to the floor and parallel to the pole and undulated her body in a body wave, the movements so fluid and graceful it looked ethereal.

The agents went wild as Diamond showed her talent, working the pole gracefully as the song played. At one point she was spinning and fanned her legs out, then impossibly rolled her body as her legs fanned out and around while her body twirled around the pole. Her upper body strength was amazing as she resembled a human pinwheel around the pole.

Inverting herself, she stuck out her body, holding it parallel to the pole and repeating another smooth body wave. Then she stuck her body straight out, again perpendicular to the floor but this time facing the ceiling as she held herself up by only her thighs. While the clapping interlude of the song played, Diamond also clapped her hands, urging the agents on. Geiger was caught up in the excitement as he joined the men, standing and clapping and cheering her on.

Diamond then climbed up the pole to the ceiling as the ending of the song came. Turning so she was facing he ceiling, her back was once more parallel to the floor, she tucked one leg around the pole and stuck the other straight out. Looking at the crowd she blew a kiss, then immediately dropped rapidly down the pole, stopping only a foot above the floor! The agents stood up applauding and Geiger joined them, amazed at her using only her legs to halt the free-fall descent, her body still parallel to the floor.

The next song started—the agent immediately recognizing AC/DC's 'You Shook Me All Night Long'—and Diamond dismounted from the pole on her feet, strutting out to the middle of the gathering of agents. When the beat started she began writhing her body in the middle of the group, her hands moving over her breasts, then down her stomach, finally moving over her ass while the agents went wild.

Slowly she began unbuttoning her sweater as she gyrated, her pigtails waving around her head seductively. As each button was undone the sweater sprung open inch by inch due to how tight it was wrapped around her large chest. The men around her were going wild as more and more of her cleavage was revealed, along with the protruding globes of flesh. Then as the refrain hit, she spread the sweater out, whipping it off.

The crowd of agents went nuts as she spun around, her pigtails fanning out behind her as she revealed a transparent white halter top partially covered by a half-cup black bustier pushing her tits up high. The hater top was almost completely transparent, her full breasts and areolae fully revealed.

As Diamond danced before the group, whipping her sweater over her head, Geiger saw the other agents had become more embolden--probably by his groping of her chest the previous set. Hands now slid across her stomach, her ass, running up and down her smooth muscular legs.

He watched as Alex Hildrum, another one of the junior agents, moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her stomach. Diamond proceeded to spoon with him, her body undulating as her facial expressions made her look like she was having sex while she ground her ass into his pelvis.

Diamond then broke away from the agent's embrace, sitting in another agent's lap, David Wagner. While she gyrated in his lap the senior agent wasted no time feeling up her chest through her halter. Nonplussed, the woman continued her lap dance as if her tits were not being contorted all over the place beneath the halter top. Geiger and the other agents watched as she slowly leaned back, her breasts straining against the halter and did a backwards cartwheel from the other agent's lap, dancing again in the middle of the crowd as they cheered.

As the song ended, she dropped herself into a perfect split, her arms over her while the men cheered.

Getting up as the next song started—'Strut' by Sheena Easton—Geiger watched as Diamond did actually strut up to the rubber matted area, still amazed at her balance in her tall 'come fuck me' shoes.

She began dancing, her hands moving all over her body as she swayed sinuously. Dropping herself to the floor, she fanned her legs out to the crowd, crawling around the stage seductively, her face pouting like the naughty schoolgirl she was dressed as.

When the first refrain came she again strutted across the floor, her ass moving exaggeratedly as she rubbed her body. Placing her hand over her crotch, she pumped her hips, then dropped to her knees and seductively swayed her torso still grasping her crotch as the agents yelled their approval. Then she rolled over and crawled to the other side of the makeshift stage area, standing up as the second refrain ended.

As the slow interlude came, Diamond reached up beneath her skirt, slowly lowering her ruffled panties. Turning around she jutted out her hips, causing the skirt to fly up and reveal her bare ass cheeks to the crowed as the ruffled panties dropped to her ankles. Stepping out of the white frilly material, she kicked them into the crowd.

Now when she danced the skirt bounced up flashing her ass cheeks as the agents roared their approval. Facing the crowd, they saw she was also wearing a black G-string, the dress continuing to bounce up as her hips moved, her covered crotch flashed to them.

The song slowly came to an end and Diamond suddenly ripped off the bustier, her breasts now moving freely beneath the diaphanous halter top, tied just below her breasts to the crowd's delight.

Immediately the next song started, the men joining in and yelling out the words of the introduction, everybody recognizing the song:

Step inside, walk this way

You and me babe, Hey, hey!

Geiger smiled at the stripper song of stripper songs, 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' by Def Leppard, began playing. Diamond sexily strutted out into the crowd once again, her hips swinging exaggeratedly as her tits now swayed along without the support of the bustier.

If the men were bold in their touching her before, they were now like octopuses, hands grabbing her bare ass cheeks, rubbing her legs, stomach, a few even reaching around from behind her to squeeze her tits.

Diamond paid them no heed, her body undulating sexily to the beat of the song.

As the refrain started with "Take a bottle..." Diamond reached over to one table where another agent, Craig Kao, was drinking whiskey and Sprite. As the next lyrics played "shake it up" Diamond began pumping her hand with a bottle of unopened Sprite in it. Looking at the cheering crowd, as the title refrain came she pointed the bottle to her chest and twisted the cap.

Immediately the shaken bottle exploded upon her breasts, neck, face, and stomach. The men cheered as the foamy liquid—looking almost like cum—ran down between her breasts, face, and stomach. The halter top practically disappeared as it became saturated with sticky soda. Diamond dumped the rest of the bottle across her tits as she slowly danced to the song.

Throwing the bottle to the side, she began massaging her breasts through the nearly invisible halter while her hips swayed wildly. Putting one arm across her stomach, she grabbed her crotch with the other, her hips making humping motions as she closed her eyes and did a sensual body wave, swaying to the song.

When the next refrain came, she grabbed the two nearest agents—Max and Tony—and pulled their heads to her breasts. The agents, taking her hint, began licking the flesh of her mounds. As the agents licked the sticky fluid from her, Diamond closed her eyes, swaying seductively as she danced with her arms around the two agents who were practically suckling her.

Geiger watched as Max said something to Tony and as the woman continued to sway, the men reached up, each grasping their side of the neckline of the halter and pulled, the thin material ripping apart easily, baring the succulent tits.

The only indication Diamond was aware of what happened was her taking the ripped halter top and shrugging it off her shoulders.

Max and Tony immediately took a bare nipple in each of their mouths as Diamond's head fell back.

As the woman continued swaying, Geiger saw Max slide one hand down the strippers stomach, dropping lower and began rubbing the woman's crotch. In response she ground her pelvis against his palm. Meanwhile Tony's hand had reached around and was roughly groping one of her ass cheeks.

A few other guys copped feels of her ass and crotch as the song slowly drew to an end. Finally extricating herself from the mass of horny guys, Diamond walked to the poles before the next song came on. As she walked and swayed to the poles, Geiger could see her nipples sparkling in the light from the agents' saliva, her nipples prominent from the attention they had received.

Geiger was impressed as a couple of the junior agents brought over mops and cleaned up the spilled drink on the floor. Seeing him looking at them, Alex Hildrum shrugged and said, "So she doesn't slip if she comes back."

The cheering from the rest of the crowd brought his attention back to the woman on stage as another stripper anthem began to play—Warrant's 'Cherry Pie.'

Diamond walked slowly and sexily around the pole topless, her large naked breasts perky with her nipples curved up slightly, her pigtails still giving her the naughty schoolgirl look. She did a flip-like cartwheel while holding the pole ending upon it, spinning rapidly around as Geiger realized this was the rotating pole.

Flipping herself upside down, her legs in a split, she contorted her body, extending it out and then flipping back over, showing off her bare ass as the pole continued rotating. Geiger did not know any of the names of her moves, but understood they were all high-end, advanced maneuvers based on Rachel's practice. He watched in amazement as the woman continued her routine, the pole's inertia continuing to rotate her around while she performed.

When the a cappella section played Diamond was walking around the pole, wildly swinging her hips to the left and right as the agents clapped:

Swingin' to the drums,

Swingin' to guitar,

Swingin' to the bass in the back of my car.

Ain't got money,

Ain't got no gas,

But we'll get where were going if we swing real fast.

Immediately Diamond ripped off her skirt to the roar of approval by the agents. Turning and jumping back on the pole, Diamond finished her routine in nothing but her shoes, ankle socks, and G-string—her perfect ass and tits moving passionately.

As the song drew to a close Diamond came off the pole oscillating her body and whipping her hair all over as her tits and ass shook, ending the song in the splits with her arms over her head to the shouts of the crowd.

The next song began playing—'My House' by the Mary Jane Girls—and Diamond once again sashayed out to the crowd. Reaching the center of the almost dozen agents she began swinging her hips wildly, her hands cupping her breasts, moving them back to grip her ass as she danced to the song.

Once more agents' hands were all over the woman as she continued to dance as if they were not even there. She seemed oblivious as her ass, tits, thighs, and even her hair was felt, fondled, and groped, her lack of response only urging on the agents.

As the first refrain played over the warehouse speakers the woman began to step away. Geiger saw two agents—Chris Gellatly a senior Special Agent, and Owen Barela a junior agent—each grasp a side of her G-string to pull her back; instead of stopping Diamond continued walking forward as the G-string first stretched, and then broke, the ripped material falling from between her legs to the floor.

Diamond did not even hesitate as Geiger saw her make a beeline to Vogel, briefly wondering why she was focusing on the fat guy as the crowd yelled their approval to her now naked state. The humanitarian side of him wondered if the stripper felt she was doing the obese man a favor by paying attention to him, as most women obviously ignored the robust man.

Diamond began swaying her hips and body in front of the large man as the song played, giving him another sensual lap dance, only this time completely naked. She lowered herself into his lap, facing the crowd as she began to grind her ass into his crotch, her knees scissoring towards the crowd as they beheld her exposed slit as her thighs opened and closed.

The crowd went wild when Vogel reached his hands around the woman, his right hand grabbing her breast. Then his other hand moved straight between her spread legs! There was a brief moment of complete quiet amongst the agents as they all stared in amazement as Vogel's fat middle finger slipped between the folds of flesh into the woman's vagina before erupting in cheers.

For the second time today Geiger watched as somebody finger-fucked the stripper.

Diamond's head fell back against Vogel's shoulder, her hips beginning to grind up and down as the fat man's hand worked in and out of her cunt. As the men cheered the obese man on, Geiger saw Chris and Owen—the two agents who had ripped off her G-string—move to each side of the woman. Seeing them, Vogel let go of the woman's breast, his other hand still rapidly fucking the woman. Diamond still had her head back, her eyes closed as her hips ground against the hand working her pussy and clit.

Completely absorbed by the fat man's fingers, and oblivious to the two agents next to her, Geiger watched as Owen and Chris bent down, each taking a breast in their mouths.

The woman let out a scream, everybody knowing at least one, if not both agents, had bitten her nipples. Again the woman cried out as her legs suddenly extended, the tall stripper shoes pointing straight out as the song ended. In the silence that followed, everybody watched awed as the woman's body started shaking, then cheering as she unashamedly orgasmed violently in Vogel's lap, the two other agent's mouths still suckling her breasts.

Slowly the woman lowered her stripper-shoe-clad feet to the ground as Vogel pulled his finger out and the two agents suckling her moved back. Her nipples glistened in the light from the two agent's mouths as the crowd applauded her performance, getting louder as Vogel raised his hand, giving the finger to everybody as they beheld his finger, coated with the strippers nectar. Then to everybody's wonder while grinning over her shoulder, Vogel moved his hand to her face, inserting his middle finger into her mouth as she cleaned off her own juices from his digit!

Geiger saw Vogel whisper something in her ear as she nodded to him, getting up off his lap and retrieving her discarded clothing. The other agents individually thanked her for the great show as they started pooling together their wallets, handing her a stack of cash to reward her for her efforts. She tried to refuse, but they insisted, shoving the wad of money in her hands.

Geiger saw her pick up the G-string, ruined from the other agents, watching as she tossed it into a nearby garbage can. Somebody handed her skirt to her and thanking them, stepped into it and slid it up her hips, the material once again failing to cover her ass or crotch. Next she picked up her discarded halter top off the floor, the material still saturated with soda. Instead of throwing it out, Geiger watched surprised when she put it on, tying the ripped center together which drew her tits close together, amplifying her already prominent cleavage.

Diamond then walked up to him as he told her it was the best show he had ever seen. Actually blushing, she thanked him. The woman's top openly displayed her breasts, but pushing his carnal thoughts from his mind, he went into FBI-mode once again.

"Nick, did you get what you needed?" he asked.

He watched as the woman's eyes widened and subsequently nodded.

He was about to tell her she could put her street clothes back on when she said, "Agent Vogel said your branch chief wanted to see me in his office," she told him.

Geiger looked around briefly, not seeing the large man in the room and shrugged, taking her to the back where the only other finished and enclosed office besides the Comms Room was in the building, just to the side of the restroom. Knocking on the door and hearing the muffled male voice say to come in, he told her he would wait outside and take her home when she was ready.

********************

As Jen stood outside the FBI branch chief's office, her mind was a tumultuous whirlwind of emotions and thoughts; however, one thing resurfaced over and over as she sifted through her conscience—what the hell had she done?

She had been surprisingly impressed with the outfit, feeling a naughty sensual thrill anticipating how the group of agents would react to it; however, their roar as she exited the bathroom was more enthusiastic than she had foreseen. Skipping out onto the 'stage' their applause and cheers of approval had been louder than most nights at the club.

Performing her pole routine, she had become completely absorbed in her dance, feeding off the crowd more and more as she entered almost a Zen-like trance state. Her maneuvers were executed perfectly, desiring to give the cheering agents even more. She knew Mary and Denise would have been in awe at the difficulty of her moves, agreeing it was her best performance ever.

The rush continued as she danced amongst the agents, her already excited body continuing to gratify herself off the fervor of the crowd. When the agents started fondling her she was not bothered or concerned. It was not unusual for there to be more 'hands-on' touching during private engagements versus the club—which was how she was treating this session. In fact most private shows went as far as the dancer let them, her knowing some girls even had sex with party participants for more money.
She did not mind the occasional fondle over the ruffled panties on her ass, or even her breasts being grabbed, as she was still dressed and could distance her mind from fondling through her clothes. Not so earlier when she had become aroused when Agent Geiger had felt her up the last set, the hot palms of his hands on her bare flesh. Being grabbed through her halter was more than tolerable, she reasoned.

In truth, her body was becoming more and more aroused, as her most sensitive areas were touched—even through her clothing. Once again her body reacted apart from her brain.

It was not until 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' began playing that she lost control of herself, her body's arousal overcoming her common sense. Thinking back to that moment, she could not believe how she had sprayed herself with Sprite, allowing two agents to lick it the moisture off her breasts. It served her right for them to take things another level and rip off her halter.

Losing one's control in such situations was not uncommon, and one of the main reasons most dancers took a bouncer or friend to such engagements. The other person was a good sounding board to stop any potential escalations and abide by the dancer's rules. Unfortunately she had no such 'back-up,' and as her body's desires overcame her mind's reasoning, she let the agents fondle her to their hearts' content.

As she pondered her actions, Jen adjusted the uncomfortably wet, sticky top as she still stood outside the branch chief's office, attempting to gather her wayward thoughts. She briefly wondered why she had put the sticky halter top back on instead of her sports bra, but the fat agent had told her to waste no time, and she had worn worse.

Resuming her introspection, she reflected how her final dance had been the most blatant display of wanton lust and 'slutiness' she had ever done—even compared to the previous week when drugged and actually had an excuse.

Letting the fat agent get her off while two other agents sucked her tits in front of the crowd was both humiliating and the most erotic thing she had ever done. Even now her body continued to be aroused, aftermath of the incredibly intense orgasm she had experienced. Her entire body had gone rigid as she came from the fat man's ministrations, his thumb thrumming her clit madly as the orgasm fully overwhelmed her.

How the hell could she have let that happen?

The entire day's events had compounded together—getting fingered by the computer geek, fondled during her sets, the drinks she had—all of them had cumulated to her going wild and losing control.

After the fact she was ashamed at her behavior in front of not only a group of strangers, but actual federal agents. She knew what this meeting was about, preparing to get her ass chewed out by the branch chief for getting the agents so riled and herself so out-of-hand. The way Agent Geiger had talked about his chief left no doubt the man was a hardass, and she felt humiliated and embarrassed in herself now that she had to meet him.

Steeling her nerves and attempting to calm her mind, her body still feeing desire from the lustful high of her intense orgasm, she entered the room.

Surprisingly Agent Vogel was there alone, sitting at a wooden desk. Jen looked around bewilderingly, wondering what was going on as he looked up at her and smiled.

"Come in Diamond, sit down," the large man told her.

Confused, Jen walked into the room, the "clunk-clunk-clunk" of her platform shoes echoing in the room. Immediately she felt chilled, the room being as cold as the computer room she had been in earlier. The already damp halter top drew the coldness to her chest, the frigid embrace causing her nipples to bud instantly.

There was a metal folding chair by the desk which she sat down in, wincing as the cold metal hit her bare ass. Crossing her legs she looked up at the large man as he got up, coming around the desk. She noted even in the cold room he had a thin sheen of sweat on his face, as if the act of getting up had winded him.

She looked up at the man as he spoke. "I feel like we haven't been properly introduced," he told her. "Sam Vogel, branch chief of this investigation for the Special Crimes Division," he told her as she looked up at him in surprise. He continued saying, "I first wanted to thank you for your cooperation in this investigation. And a particularly special thanks for your performance. I know you volunteered to do the routine tonight in order for Nick to calibrate the equipment, being as you are flying out to DSA HQ tomorrow, but I also know you gave it a more special effort than usual," he told her grinning.

The branch chief's gaze centered on her chest, her nipples hard and clearly visible through the damp halter top as Jen felt her body flush, her pulse speeding up at the recognition only a few minutes ago the man had his finger inside of her, bringing her to climax in one of the most intense orgasms ever. The mixture of humiliation, arousal, embarrassment, and confusion put her completely off-guard in the presence of the man.

"Speaking of Nick," the branch chief said, as if the computer guy had walked into the room. "Are we secure Agent Gastinov?"

Jen started at the thrill running up her back as the tattoo crawled beneath her skin, nodding to the man in front of her, "He said yes, but I don't understand," she said.

"I wanted to talk to you alone," the large man said, his gaze roving over her body.

She saw him looking at her feet wearing the 7-inch black platforms, his gaze then moving up her legs. He smiled briefly as she wondered if he were thinking of her ass on the metal chair raising his eyes back to her chest. She again felt her body revolt against her mind, a flush of desire coursing through her as she tried to calm her mental state.

The circumstances were unusual no matter how she thought about it. She was sitting with a branch chief of the FBI discussing a federal investigation, dressed as a trashy schoolgirl. She was a stripper asked her to be an informant against a criminal, drug lord, and downright bad person. She should be professional—not in terms of her stripper profession, but business professional—and yet her body was getting aroused.

She felt her cleft moisten as she involuntarily looked at the man's hands, particularly his finger, knowing it had been inside her less than 15 minutes ago. In fact, she had sucked off her own juices after he had brought her to orgasm.

In her arousal she hoped she would not leave a wet spot on the chair, trying to regain her composure and focus back on helping the investigation and her presence in front of the man.

"I still don't understand," she said to him.

He explained, "In cases where there is a couple who are both working in our interests, they inevitably begin acting out-of-character because they are trying to appease their other half, possibly doing something above and beyond what they would normally do in the interest of protecting them. It is human nature, but when people are working for us they get an inflated sense of bravado. In this case it is particularly important, as Charles DeWight is unaware of your involvement with Mr. Jeffries. As such, there needs to be a mental separation for both of you—you cannot afford to act as a couple as you can betray each other trying to act or speak differently in order to appease what the other person is thinking or wanting.

"To prevent this from happening on my own team I am conducting our surveillance between the two of you as two separate investigations--your contract with Charles DeWight and Mr. Jeffries' possible employment as DSA's real estate broker. I have split the team into two groups, each one handling you separately to avoid cross contamination," he told her.

"As such," the man explained, "I wanted to discuss this case separately; I will be having a similar discussion with Mr. Jeffries tomorrow. What Agent Gastinov has just informed me was Mr. Jeffries is not privy to this conversation. I am confident in Agent Gastinov's discretion, and he is an enterprising and smart man, so I am going to assume Mr. Jeffries is currently driving our surveillance van while Nick adjusts the surveillance feeds," he said.

Jen once again jerked as the tattoo crawled beneath her skin—would she ever get used to that sensation, she wondered—as she told him, "He said yes."

She had completely forgotten the surveillance gear she had on—and the main reason she had performed her routines in front of the agents.

"Good," the large man said, walking around her to his desk. "Agent Geiger has discussed with me at length the circumstances of your and Mr. Jeffries involvement with Charles DeWight," the rotund man told her, "as well as staked his career on your assistance and willingness to do what it takes for this investigation to succeed," he told her.

Jen nodded. She was not sure where the discussion was going, but the man had said nothing she disagreed with.

"I'm not convinced," he suddenly told her. "In fact I have serious reservations concerning your involvement in this case at all," he said.

Looking at him, she once again saw his gaze upon her, looking at her body, not at herself.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Can you follow orders Diamond?" the man asked suddenly, holding up his hand before she could reply.

Picking up a folder the man moved nearer. "I want you to understand the seriousness of this investigation," the man elucidated. "You know Charles DeWight as a boss, possibly even a rapist based upon Agent Geiger's talk with you, or maybe he's just somebody who manipulates people to have his way with them," he told her.

Jen silently nodded as the man walked closer to her.

"Let me show you the Charles DeWight I know," he said.

Jen was startled as the man slapped a photograph on the table. Looking at it Jen saw a woman, obviously dead, her face bruised and battered.

She looked up at the man in shock for an explanation.

"This was the last woman to piss off Charles DeWight...that we know of," he told her. "This woman was a dancer in one of his clubs, and you want to know why she was killed?" he asked. Before she could answer he continued. "It wasn't for breaking a contract, it wasn't for narking to the police about illegal activity," he said to her as he continued. "It wasn't that she was a bad person, or even defied him in some way. No, what Miss Alice Bounds—aka Scarlett—died for, was a cold," he said.

Jen looked up from the morbid picture perplexed.

"Yes, a cold," the man told her. "You see, Miss Bounds was a dedicated dancer at one of DSA's clubs in Phoenix. In fact she was such a hard worker that when she caught a cold, she still went into work. I'm sure you have danced when you were sick, so you know what an effort it took for her to dance a full shift," he told her as she absently nodded. "Unfortunately she gave her cold—actually a low-grade flu—to not only several patrons, but to the entire staff at the club who became much more ill than she, having to call in sick, he explained.

"As a result the club was closed for 2 days," he told her, "while the staff convalesced. This woman died because she was a dedicated worker, not wanting to take a sick day. She has no record of previous arrests, just a girl working her way through college. She was a nice American couple's daughter," he said looking directly at her. "Charles DeWight had her beaten to death for the two days of lost revenue she caused," the agent told her.

Jen looked at him in shock as he placed another photo on top of the first. This picture was of another woman in a hospital bed, alive at least at the time of the picture.

"Suzanne Maher—aka Misty," he said as Jen stared at the photograph. "She was the last woman to take Charles DeWight to court. She was countersued for breach of contract, forced into bankruptcy," he told her. "Unfortunately she is alive," he said.

Seeing her stunned face the large man nodded. "You see, she was pushed into heavy traffic one day walking on the streets of Miami. Witnesses identify Charles DeWight to have been present, some claiming he was the one who actually pushed her into the traffic; however, Miss Maher has refused to press charges, saying she fell off the sidewalk due to a new pair of shoes she was trying to break in," he told her as she looked at him in shock. "She claims Charles DeWight did not push her, but was in fact trying to catch her fall," the fat man explained.

"If she had died, we could have pursued the investigation, maybe even brought charges against him; however, as it stands, her being alive has completely cock-blocked any charges," the man said, "as we cannot pursue the investigation without an actual complaint."

He threw down another picture, this one of another dead victim; the main difference was the person was male. The cause of death was obvious, the gruesome bullet hole in the man's forehead almost making Jen sick.

"This one's fresh," the large man said, "Emery Phelps," he stated.

Jen looked up at him in shock, recognizing the name.

"Yes, this is the former real estate broker for Divine Silk Attractions, Incorporated who disappeared a few months ago. He was found yesterday by one of our junior agents trolling through national John Doe morgue reports," he said. "This is the man your fiancé is replacing, the obvious lethal termination of his employment caused by him skimming money from Charles DeWight," he told her.

She jumped, started as the branch chief threw down the rest of the folder, several ghastly photos spilling out which she turned her head away from, refusing to look at any more of the photos.

"This folder is full of victims of Charles DeWight. This is the Charles DeWight I know. A murderer, a crime lord, a man who uses people like toilet paper, flushing them after they are used; this is the man you work for, that you slept with, that you have agreed to help us put into jail," the agent told her forcefully.

"Make no mistake, lives are at stake. Not only my agents', not only your's or your fiancé's, but other people's, people we may not even know about. I have already lost one agent in this investigation, and I'll be damned if I lose another, even an informant. One simple slip and somebody could die," he told her. "So I ask again Diamond, can you follow orders?" he repeated.

Sobered from the reality of the situation, she quietly answered him.

"I didn't hear you," he said as she repeated her affirmative louder. "We'll see," he told her," walking and leaning against the side of his desk.

"One order I have is I want your pledge, your vow, your word that if there is ANY indication of Charles DeWight aware of your involvement in this case, you contact us immediately. There will be an agent on surveillance duty at all times and all you have to do is speak; so I repeat, if there is any indication of Charles DeWight aware of what is going on, I want you to pull out, no questions asked," he told her. Before she could speak he continued, "And that goes for the flip-side as well. If you receive any notice from us—I know Nick has already explained the long thrill of your ink is a 'Get out now' message—you leave, no questions asked," he said. "Is that understood?" he asked her.

"Yes," Jen said, still sobered at the gruesome photographs he had shown her. "I understand."

"Good," the large man said. "Now, pinch your nipples," he said unexpectedly.

"What?!" Jen replied incredulously, both at the abruptness of the command as well as the impropriety.

"You told me you followed orders, and I just gave you one. You need to follow any order given to you by me or by any agent on the team. In your role as a DSA spokesmodel Charles DeWight is going to order you to do things you would not normally do, as will his underlings. Sometimes it will purely be for the shock value of seeing your response such as the order I just gave you. It is exactly something Charles DeWight would order, and you questioned me," he told her, shaking his head.

"Again," he continued, "I have serious reservations about your involvement in this case," he told her with apparent regret.

Jen looked at the man, understanding his reasoning as she apologized, "I'm sorry, you just took me off guard," she said to him.

"That is exactly the point," the branch chief told her sharply. "You may be asked to do the most unusual things at the oddest of times, and you need to listen and obey. I know it's a shitty deal, but that's how it is," he told her. "Now, as I said, pinch your tits," he said to her crudely.

Knowing this was a test, aware of lives being at stake if she refused, she reached up, slowly tweaking her nipples beneath the halter top.

"No, no, no, no, no," the branch chief said angrily. "Not only are you going to have to follow orders, but you're going to be expected to do them willingly, going above and beyond the call of duty," he said moving behind her.

"Like this," he said to her.

Jen gasped as the man's hands plunged beneath her halter top, grasping her breasts. She was shocked at his brazenness as he began fondling her chest. Shocked at his bluntness, she was also surprised to note although the room was freezing, the fat man's hands were actually warm, moist against her skin as she recalled his sweating face even in the cold room.

"Ow-ooh!" she said loudly as the man's fingers suddenly clamped down on her teats, forcefully crushing her nipples.

She was ashamed to realize although her yell was first of pain her second utterance had been due to being overcome with her body's response, finishing the cry in arousal.

As quickly as he had grasped her chest, Vogel pulled his hands away from her and moved back to his desk.

Her halter had been pulled to the sides, her breasts hanging out at the chief's assault. Reaching up she was about to adjust it when the branch chief's voice came at her forcefully.

"Leave it," he commanded.

Jen identified this as being another test of her ability to follow directions, obediently lowering her hands back to her lap. Being topless was not a big deal; she had been a stripper for years, her job to be topless most of the time, so she was not worried about his order.

What did bother her was her body's response at his handling, still obviously feeling the effects of his diddling her.

Although the branch chief smiled, he told her, "I'm still concerned. Not only are there lives at stake, but resources."

Remembering her discussion with Agent Geiger, she replied, "I understand. You have been on this investigation for four years and have had over a dozen agents involved. If it fails, they will have wasted those years," she told him, letting him know she understood what he meant from her talk with Agent Geiger.

"I don't give a fuck about the men working this case," he told her unexpectedly as she looked up at him in surprise. "These are FBI agents, if they aren't working this case they're going to be assigned another one. There are enough assholes out there to keep them all busy for their entire careers. The problem is not people but the amount of money we have spent on this investigation, as well as the new investment towards you," he explained. "For example, the surveillance gear you are wearing," he said, nodding at her. "You have over $150,000 of the Bureau's funds in your possession, and that's not counting the surveillance van and its equipment, the equipment in the Comms Room, relocating Mr. Jeffries, and so forth," he said to her.

Her expression was one of shock. She never thought about how much the gear cost, being too fascinated and excited at the 'James Bond' feel of everything going on around her.

"I see you now comprehend," he told her. "If this investigation goes nowhere, I might as well seek an early retirement because I won't be assigned another case due to how much money will have been wasted on this investigation. My entire career, and that of my agents, is resting upon your ability to blend in; to follow orders without hesitation, even willingly. The more opposition you bring to the table the more Charles DeWight is going to notice you and be aware of all your movements. You need to not only jump, not even inquire how high, but to jump as high as you can," he said to her.
"I understand," she replied to him.

"Do you?" the branch chief told her, a look of mocked incredulousness upon his face. "Do you really understand what is expected of you?" he asked. Once again before she could reply he said, "Fine, let's test how good of a DSA slut you are, crawl over here and suck my cock," he demanded.

Jen hid her astonishment at the FBI agent's crude request. She presumed this was another test to shock her into disobeying. It was reminiscent of last night. She recalled Agent Geiger saying the reason he had followed through with his carnal actions with her was due to his branch chief's skepticism of both her and Dan's willingness to submit to her life as a DSA spokesmodel. It made bizarre sense if she were willing to allow another man use of her body they would want to test her resolve alone. In fact, she wondered if the branch chief would stop her once she proved her willingness to comply.

Once again the calm reasoning she had considered yesterday came to her. This was the life she was going to be forced into, so she could do it kicking and screaming or try to make it less stressful.

These were here thoughts as she slid off the chair to her knees and dropped to her hands, crawling to the large man standing a few feet away from her.

She could feel the coldness of the room on her bare ass and moist slit as her breasts swayed beneath her, as well as the cold floor on her bare knees as she moved towards the fat agent in charge.

Reaching him she knelt up, obediently unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers, which immediately fell to the floor around his ankles.

She looked on numbly as she beheld the overweight man's roll of fat, hanging from his stomach and folding over his tightly whitey underwear. Actually the underwear was not more of a dingy grey than white, the area of his crotch discolored enough she wondered if he had even changed them in the last few days.

Pushing such disgusting thoughts from her head, she reached up and pulled down the underwear as the agent lifted first one leg, then another while she took his pants and underwear off.

Rising back to her knees, she looked at his crotch area, once again disgusted by the large 'muffin-top' of fatty tissue hanging from his stomach, then lowering her gaze to the hairy region of his cock. He was small—only 2 inches of his limp penis evident in the nest of hair, and she reached up with her hand, rubbing the small nub. His large hairy balls added to the overall impression of small size, hanging below his dick. Their appearance of largeness was also added by the small size of his cock, as Diamond palmed his sac, estimating his nuts to be the size of Large Grade A eggs.

As she rubbed him with her fingers, she noted with some revulsion the man's groin area was also a large pad of fat, as if he had a second paunch beneath the first, his cock right in the center. It almost felt like she was rubbing somebody's ass, as the small member in her palm began to harden.

Knowing he was waiting to see if she would comply, Diamond moved her head forward and took him between her lips. He was semi-erect, getting harder as she sucked him into her mouth.

At first the member barely passed her lips, the cockhead resting on the tip of her relaxed tongue as she began slowly sucking it in, sliding her lips back and forth. Then she felt him lengthening as he hardened, until he was fully erect, estimating him to be about 3 or 4 inches. Moving her mouth up and down his shaft, she avoided the hairy, fatty pad of his abdomen.

With his small size and her avoidance of his fat pelvis, she had the image of a pecking bird come to her mind.

Suddenly she felt the chief grab her by the pigtails tightly, yanking her head forward as his hips thrusted into her. Surprised, Diamond opened her mouth to say something but was blocked by the soft fatty tissue her face became embedded in. What shocked her more was the feeling of the fat man's cock sliding past her tongue, elongating until his cockhead wedged into her throat!

Her surprise and the now lengthy member wedging into her throat caused her to gag as she attempted to cry out, the loud "Kuachtng" sound of her gagging choke echoed through the room.

Jen realized the fat pad of his pelvis had hidden most of his cock. In fact, he was probably longer than Mr. DeWight, sensing even more length in front of her as her face became further buried within the fatty tissue.

Holding her pigtails like handle bars, the FBI chief began forcing her head back and forth as his pelvis moved in opposing rhythm, heedless of her own comfort as he forcibly fucked her mouth.

********************

Nick Gastinov had been pissed when he had watched his fat boss finger fuck Diamond at the end of her set. It was pure jealousy, having wanted to have been the only one to have been so bold. He quickly overcame his senseless possessiveness as he watched in fascination, the woman cumming for a second time today.

Whereas her orgasm with him was contained in order to not give away what had happened to her boyfriend, this one caused her whole body to stiffen, the incredible sight of her legs sticking out with her stripper shoes on amazing as his headphones echoed with her cries.

Watching as the woman calmed down, he was startled when his boss' voice came into the headphones loud and clear, "The branch chief wants to see you immediately," the whispered voice said loudly through the headphones. "Go put back on the plaid skirt and halter—he isn't a man you want to keep waiting. Tell Agent Geiger to show you to his office."

Nick wondered why his boss did not say it was he himself wanting to talk to her. In fact, he had found it odd both the woman and man had called him 'Agent' Vogel instead of branch chief or such. Then again the man was a Special Agent, although he had been behind the desk for the last 15 years, as evident from his portly figure.

Nick had been surprised to watch the woman comply with the clothing request, even so far as picking up the wet, tattered white halter top she had soaked with soda and putting it on.

Although it was time to take Mr. Jeffries to his new residence, having been given orders to do so once the strippers 'performance' was completed, the computer techie's inquisitiveness got the better of him as he kept them circling the warehouse, wondering what Vogel wanted to talk to her about.

So instead of giving directions to Mr. Jeffries to his new apartment, he said, "OK, she is done doing her set," he told the man who, looking over his shoulder saw the belly-cam revealing the woman walking through the crowd towards a door. "If you don't mind," Nick told the man, "I'd like to do some sound checks and see how distance is a factor," he told the man. "If you could head out to Chambers and take a left, go about 2 miles, take another left, 2 miles, left, and so forth that will allow us to circle a bit so I can see how the signal waxes and wanes," he told the man who nodded and pulled out of the warehouse lot.

Nick knew what he was saying was utter bullshit; wiretap range problems were old school. As long as he had the proper frequency and there was a nearby cell tower, he could hear Diamond fart halfway across the world. It was one of the most known secrets of surveillance, as you could be miles away from a tap; criminals never knew they were being recorded, even in an empty parking lot. The only reason to have a van nearby with agents was for instant response if things went south. In this investigation they would park a few miles from wherever Diamond would be, as although what she was doing was dangerous, there was no need for instantaneous assistance.

Nick listened to Geiger talking to the woman as he adjusted the sound and video equipment. Not wanting to answer any more questions from Mr. Jeffries about what his fiancée was doing, he threw up a frozen image of the wall from Diamond's belly-cam so the man thought it was not moving, planning to tell him she had taken it off and was being briefed on what to expect of the course of her visit to corporate headquarters this week.

That was not far from the truth he reasoned, as he suspected that was what Vogel wanted to talk to her about, even though he had acted odd with requesting her presence.

When she entered the office, Nick displayed the belly-cam on the monitor behind the driver's seat. There were no cameras in Vogel's office anyways—the area was the only 'safe room' in the building free of surveillance equipment, bug sweeps done routinely a few times a day just in case. It was one of the privileges of a branch chief, as they were often privy to more classified information than the field agents.

As Vogel talked to the woman, Nick knew he had heard the speech and various renditions of it hundreds of times, so did not pay much attention. It was typical interrogation 101—scare the informant, show them some grizzly photos, get them to cooperate—it was a tactic used time and again.

So once he had responded to Vogel's inquiry that Mr. Jeffries was indeed occupied, Nick became bored. So bored he almost told Mr. Jeffries the directions to his apartment, but figured he would wait until the woman was headed home and he could be back in the Comms Room one more.

To kill time he played with the sound, chuckling silently as Vogel's voice was morphed into Darth Vader's, complete with accentuated breathing.

"In cases where there is typically a couple both working in our interests, they inevitably begin acting out-of-character because they are trying to appease their other half," Vader's voice came to him amusingly in the headphones.

He made a few more adjustments, morphing his boss' voice into Alvin and the Chipmunks.

"I have split the team into two groups, each one handling you two separately to avoid cross contamination," Alvin—or more like Theodore's—voice came through the speakers Nick thought amusingly.

Having fun, he made a few more changes, laughing as Yoda said, "What Miss Alice Bounds died for, was a cold. Yes, a cold."

Nick knew Vogel was showing the woman photographs of past victims from the case file, affirming his thoughts this was a simple scare tactic to confirm her assistance. As if Geiger fucking the woman left any doubt, he thought, once again shaking his head at his buddy's luck.

He played around with the sound equipment more, trying out different cartoon characters. He then moved to gaming characters, chuckling at himself at some of the results.

Then Duke Nuke'em's voice came through the headphones, "Now, pinch your nipples."

"What the fuck," Nick exclaimed, hitting the reset to the soundboard to remove all the effects he had applied.

"Is something wrong?" Mr. Jeffries asked from the driver's position.

Nick was in shock as he listened to Vogel's reasoning that the woman needed to follow orders from anybody, including DeWight, whose orders would be more lewd and carnal.

"Is something wrong?" he heard Mr. Jeffries ask again.

He hurriedly replied, "No, just almost deafened myself from some feedback," he lied to the man. "If you don't mind, could you circle around a couple more times so I can compensate for it," he told the man to keep him pre-occupied.

Turning his attention back to the monitor showing the belly-cam, Nick saw Vogel standing in front of the camera, telling the woman once again to "pinch your tits."

The film footage on the monitor shifted slightly and Nick wondered what she was doing. Then Vogel's voice came across the headphones again, "No, no, no, no, no. Not only are you going to have to follow orders, but you're going to be expected to do them willingly, going above and beyond the call of duty."

Nick watched as Vogel moved out of the view of the camera. "Like this," the branch chief's voice came over the headphones. Immediately the camera position jerked up sharply as the view on the monitor began shaking irregularly, as if there were an earthquake in the room.

Nick knew, without even needing a camera, his boss was fondling the woman's breasts.

"Ow...Ooh!" he heard from the woman in the headphones suspecting Vogel had followed up on his request, probably pinching her nipples forcibly.

He glanced at the voice analyzer—used to determine voice trends in recording comparing pitch, volume, and other factors to identify emotion responses such as duress, surprise, and so forth—and did a double take as the machine indicated the initial exclamation to be one of surprise, but the second one of relief, satisfaction, or profound pleasure.

Nick stared at the output wondering if it were faulty. Was the woman really turned on by his boss' handling, he wondered, then recalling Geiger telling how the woman had turned into a nympho once he began fondling her breasts.

Looking back to the monitor he saw the image stabilize as his branch chief's body once more came into view on the belly-cam. The man yelled out "Leave it!" and Nick wondered what he was talking about as he heard Vogel tell the woman he was still not convinced of her voluntariness.

Nick's attention was completely on the surveillance equipment now; this not your typical scare tactics for interrogation. Granted agents often used the threat of sexual assault or abuse in attempts to have suspects talk. Even unwilling informants sometimes needed to be threatened for them to cooperate; however, Diamond had already agreed and was willing to assist in the investigation. Vogel had already green-lighted her to go into the field—which was why she had received the surveillance equipment.

The junior agent wondered what Vogel's angle was, as he listened to the man talk about resources. It was another angle used to convince informants into abiding by their roles and not breaking cover; however, based upon the last event, Nick knew there was more to this meeting than enlisting an informant's assistance.

His branch chief's intentions were soon made clear as he heard Vogel's voice say, "Let's test how good of a DSA slut you are. Crawl over here and suck my cock."

Nick was amazed! He realized Geiger would not be the only lucky bastard to sex up the stripper as he became completely absorbed in the surveillance, not even aware of Mr. Jeffries driving the van. His eyes were glued to the monitor as he watched the camera position dropped, then shift to the floor, staring at the monitor as the woman's shapely thighs and knees came into the screen, obviously crawling to his boss.

The camera shifted to show Vogel's upper calves and knees and the computer geek watched as the pants dropped, revealing his bosses fat, hairy legs. He was repulsed at the sight of his fat boss, knowing the man was possibly naked from the waist down; however, his obsession at the woman and what she was being made to do was more powerful, as he continued to listen and watch.

A pair of white briefs slid down the branch chief's legs as Nick snorted at the man's underwear, nerdy even for him, the computer geek always wearing silk boxers.

As the camera swayed slightly Nick understood the woman was now kneeling before his boss with his dick exposed, wondering if she were actually sucking him. The odd thought wondering how his boss was hung came to his mind, having always envisioned the fat man to have a thumb-sized cock, particularly when he was riding Nick hard for messing something up.

No sound came from the headphones as the belly-cam gently swayed up and down, so he increased the boost and volume attempting to hear any sounds which could identify what was happening in the room. Still not hearing anything, he made a few more adjustments, becoming focused on the soundboard.

Suddenly his ears nearly exploded as the headphones filled with "Qualurcht!" or some such as the woman obviously choked in surprise.

Nick immediately lowered the volume and other settings by hitting the reset, as the camera began to move up and down erratically. The sounds of choking, gagging, and slurping came across the headphones as he realized in fascination the woman was deep throating his boss!

"Figures the bastard has a large cock," he almost said before realizing Mr. Jeffries was still driving. He thought it though, as he listened to the obvious sounds of Vogel's cock slamming into the woman's mouth and throat.

The sounds were occasionally interrupted by the woman gasping and panting, as if she were completely without air and suddenly released.

Nick wondered how long the man's dick was to suffocate the woman so much.

Soon as the panting and heavy breathing slowed down, the camera again began swaying wildly, accompanied by the deep throat retches of the woman.

Although he had no video—only seeing Vogel's hairy legs, slightly bent at the knees—the audio alone was enough to give him a hard-on as Nick listened to the indisputable sounds of rough oral sex. He was so excited he would probably have pulled out his cock and jacked off if it were not for the presence of Mr. Jeffries!

Nick listened to the blowjob for considerable time. He told Mr. Jeffries to expand his circle to another mile, putting his headphones back on to continue listening as the man's fiancée continued to deep-throat his boss.

After a particularly long session of gagging and choking sounds which left the woman coughing and panting in recovery longer than usual, he heard Vogel's voice.

"I think I'll take the advice of those 'come fuck me pumps' you have on," the man said with amusement. "Get up and bend over the desk," he commanded to the woman, adding, "Let's see if Geiger's report was detailed enough about that tight pussy of yours," he laughed crudely.

Nick watched as the belly-cam rose up, revealing the small but hard cock of his boss as the view shifted towards Vogel's desk. With the 'clunk-clunk' of the woman's shoes echoing in the room as she walked, he saw the desk get closer until the entire view was the dark-grained wood of the desktop. The grain got closer before going completely dark as Nick knew the woman had followed his boss' command and was lying on her stomach upon the desk.

Adjusting the brightness to 85, he could once more make out the grain of the wood, the desktop looking washed out due to the high brightness setting.

Meanwhile the headphones were silent, him wondering what was happening.

Getting restless, he pulled up the image of his boss' dick from the recorded video and grabbing the stylus, measured it at only 4-inches. He wondered how the hell it had been able to choke the woman so severely. Thinking she may have been exaggerating to appease the small-dicked fat man, Nick's attention was once more drawn to the live feed as Vogel once again spoke.

"Normally I'm an ass man," the branch chief said," but obviously there's no lube in this office, so we'll have to do this the old fashioned way," he chuckled.

Suddenly the image of the grain of wood on the camera jerked downwards, the headphones filling with the woman's cry, "Oh! Oohm, God," she gasped.

Again Nick wondered how she could sound so authentic, especially after measuring the small cock of his boss, as he watched the video screen set into a pattern, the wood grain jerking down as his boss obviously slammed into the woman's pussy, followed by a slow upward sway of the camera as he pulled back.

With each jerk the woman's cries of pleasure filled the headphones: "Unh...Oh...God. Umph...Jesus!" More random cries came from the woman as Nick knew his boss was wildly fucking from behind, as she bent willingly over his desk.

Nick's cock was rock hard and he debated jacking off even with Mr. Jeffries three-feet in front of him when his blood stopped as he heard Vogel's voice say, "Nick, I know you're there. How about we play this lovely tune over the speakers in the office," his boss ordered.

Nick quickly complied, sending the live feed into the speakers that had recently played the songs of her set. He pulled up the footage of the office area and saw all the agents look up startled at the speakers, then their faces bust out into laughter and smiles as a couple high-fived each other, the sounds evident on what was going on in the back room.
The woman's grunts and cries of pleasure continued over Nick's headphones and into the command center's office area as he watched the wood grain on the monitor continue to jerk down and sway back up. Eventually the speed increased, and he began to discern the steady slapping of Vogel's pelvis slamming into that of the woman's ass through the high definition headphones.

Her cries changed from succinct individual cries of passion to longer moans and "Aah's" as his boss began to vigorously fuck the stripper from behind, the "slap...slap...slap...slap" sounds becoming more audible.

The sudden cessation of slapping caught Nick's attention as Vogel's voice came through the headphones saying, "OK bitch, now let's see those tits dance again, roll over," he commanded to the woman.

Nick watched as the camera flew to the side, the image lightening up in a completely washed out picture before he remembered to lower the brightness setting, the ceiling appearing on the monitor.

He watched as Vogel appeared from the stomach up, obviously between the woman's legs, the belly-cam catching him above her. The man's face was beet red, sweat pouring off his face and chest and Nick felt revulsion at the man's appearance, wondering if he were going to keel over from a heart attack.

He saw Vogel reach down and then Diamond's legs came into view as Vogel placed them both over his right shoulder, wrapping his right arm around them at the knees.

Nick was distracted by her long legs and stripper-shoe-clad feet momentarily, until the woman's cry refocused on the entire scene.

Vogel was now fucking the woman on her back, her legs over his one shoulder as he held them together. This time Nick watched as the man thrusted repeatedly, the fucking motions obvious from the motion of his body and that of the camera, the image jerking up and down on the monitor.

The woman's cries of passion once again filled the headphones as Nick watched his boss fuck the woman zealously.

His boss' face continued to sweat copiously as he made grimaces and faces fucking the woman, his fat body jiggling with each thrust. Nick was repulsed at the image, watching in fascination like it was a morbid accident. The fact of the obese man fucking a woman as beautiful as Diamond made the image only more erotic as Nick could only stare transfixed at the monitor, listening to the woman's lustful moans.

Gradually her voice got louder and louder as Vogel began to speed up. It was obvious she was getting close to orgasm as she began crying out, "Oh God! Fuck! Yes, fuck me! Unh!" over and over.

Suddenly she let out a scream of passion and Nick watched as the image on the monitor began to vibrate erratically, knowing the woman was cumming so hard her body was shaking. Through the epileptic display on the screen he saw Vogel sudden throw his head back with his mouth open, a loud "Unk!" coming from his mouth as Nick knew his boss was also cumming inside the beautiful stripper, filling her canal with his fat sweaty sperm. Through the headphones Nick could hear cheering through the walls, as the other agents applauded the woman's obvious sexual encounter.

Movement on the screen again caught his attention as Nick saw Vogel look down at the woman's stomach directly to the camera with a big grin, shocking the computer geek as he winked, fully knowledgeable of the camera. Then he made a slashing motion across his neck and Nick immediately turned off the feed into the office area.

********************

As the massive anaconda camouflaged as a cocktail shrimp slammed into her throat, Diamond's main focus was on breathing. She could not believe how much of the branch chief's cock was hidden by the large fatty pad of his pelvis, but her throat was made a believer.

It was not the process of the huge member—feeling like it was going halfway down her throat—that bothered her, but the inability to breath, even as he pulled back. Her nose and mouth were forcibly smashed into his fatty pelvic tissue, suffocating her. Luckily he pulled out regularly, allowing her to catch her breath before once again pulling her by her pigtails and shoving his cock into her mouth.

Diamond's entire front was covered with her spit, as her gasping for air during the interludes when he was not trying to shove his cock into her gullet also prevented her from swallowing the saliva building up in her oral cavity. Her spit pooled at the bottom of her mouth when the rotund FBI agent's cock was lodged her throat, preventing her from swallowing; so as she panted and coughed to catch her breath when not sucking him, she simply let the fluid roll out of her mouth. After only a few minutes her chin, breasts, and stomach were coated with her drool.

Diamond made no objection to the large man's treatment of her, understanding the FBI chief was purposely being rough in order to show her what to expect entrenched in Mr. Dewight's clutches. As such, she simply relaxed and let him have his way with her. Agent Geiger had tested her and Dan's resolve to accept what would happen; however, he had been gentle, more like a heated lovemaking session than the selfish, ravenous fuck of a man only looking to get off and ignoring the girl. Not Agent Vogel. His acts were those of a man purely out for his own pleasure, treating her like less than meat, purely a living wet hole to place his cock.

Incongruously his treatment of her affected her body to become overcome with lust; his blatant disregard for her own pleasure somehow exciting her as he dominated her. She felt her slit turn liquid, her breasts tight against her body as saliva rolled across the sensitive flesh.

Diamond did not know how long her oral cavity was abused. As the agent repeated the sequence of letting her catch her breath and plunging his cock into her mouth, he pulled her pigtails into him yet again as her face was engulfed by the now familiar fatty tissue of his pelvis. His hips moved forward as his stiff dick moved past the back of her tongue into her throat, wedging past her uvula. For the thousandth time she was thankful for not having a sensitive gag reflex as her mouth was filled the male's flesh.

Once again he held her tightly against his pelvis as she reflexively swallowed his member, her spit pooling around her tongue before oozing out from her lips and rolling down her chin. This time she was held longer than normal, at first not worried as the fat agent's thrusts were not necessarily predictable; however, as her lungs began to burn for air, he still held her head firmly against his body. Her gagging and choking sounds increased as her body attempted to find air and she was beginning to panic when he finally pulled out, his long cock snaking out her mouth.

As she once again gasped for air and caught her breath, the man told her, "I think I'll take the advice of those 'come fuck me pumps' you have on," he told her with amusement. "Get up and bend over the desk," he commanded. "Let's see if Geiger's report was detailed enough about that tight pussy of yours," he laughed crudely.

Immediately she felt her pussy clench. Her body had been anticipating this. Even though his cock had been slamming into her gullet for so long and she thought he would be content with a blowjob, her body had been yearning for more.

She was too turned on to baulk at the thought of the large man fucking her. The calm reasoning from the night before came to her again as she rationalized this was what her future would be like until she could get out of the contract. Her only consolation was Dan was not here, he had been stressed enough watching her with Agent Geiger last night, she could not imagine how he would fare at the selfless and crude treatment of the chief.

At no point did she even think about denying the man, instead getting to her feet and walking to the desk. For once her mind and body were in tandem, accepting the upcoming use of her. In her mind she knew she needed to accept this, the sooner the better to prevent Mr. DeWight from turning his attention on her more than he would normally. Her body was completely aroused, needing the feel of a cock inside her. She may wish it was Dan, but she was so filled with lust it could have been anybody at this point. Regardless of the circumstances, she was prepared for the agent to fuck her.

Bending over the wooden desk, she realized her platform shoes placed her higher than would be comfortable leaning forward, particularly if the man took as long as he had with her mouth. She wanted to be comfortable so without hesitation pulled up her right leg, placing her knee on the desk top and stretching her leg out.

She was now lying diagonal on her stomach on the desk, her legs spread as one laid across the desk, standing on the other.

She knew in this position her pussy was completely exposed, sensing the agent moving behind her.

Diamond jumped in surprise as his hands slid up her left leg—the one she was standing on—then continued until he was massaging her ass, finally moving down her right thigh on the desk. He once again placed his hands on her ass, his fingers gouging into the soft flesh. Her eyes widened when she felt her ass cheeks spread apart, her rectum fully displayed before him.

"Normally I'm an ass man," she heard behind her, "but obviously there's no lube in this office." She felt his finger slide down her ass crack, feeling him circle her anal sphincter with his finger tip as she shuddered, her vaginal muscles involuntarily clenching.

She was not a virgin to anal sex; however, it had been a long time, and at the time she had been drunk and completely sex-crazed. Although he was long, his cock was not wide and Diamond was surprised to know she would be willing for him to fuck her in the ass. It was something she had thought about with Dan; however, he had not even hinted it being an interest to him.

Now, with her ass cheeks spread apart and the FBI agent stroking her sphincter, she began to wish there was lube around, wanting to feel that cock enter her, giving her that unique full feeling as she was penetrated.

The agent's voice continued behind her, "So, we'll have to do this the old fashioned way," she heard him say behind her.

He grabbed her hips, and before she could brace herself, plunged into her soaking pussy.

"Oh!" Diamond cried out at the sudden invasion, his cock boring down her canal as her vaginal muscles spread apart.

And still he was entering her.

"Umph, God!" she gasped as it felt like somebody was threading a garden hose into her core.

The agent wasted no time once he was completely sheathed by her vagina, slowly pulling out, and immediately plunging his entire length into her again. He wasted no time getting into the pattern of slamming his cock into her fully to his balls, and then retracting his cock until he she felt like she was being threaded by a continuous pull, only to have him plunge into her once again.

With each thrust her body was pushed forward, her breasts sliding across the cool grain of the wood desktop as she held onto the edges for support; then as he pulled back, she eased off wondering how deep he was as the never-ending feeling of him retracting took forever, only to feel him plunge back into her and repeat the process.

She heard the agent say something, but was already too far gone in lust at being fucked to listen or care what was said to her, she could no longer hold back, becoming more and more vocal.

"Unh," she cried as he plunged into her...

"Oh...God!" she moaned as the continuous pulling sensation overwhelmed her...

"Umph!" she yelled out as his cock speared her body one more time...

"Jesus," she moaned as the sensation of him leaving her went on and on and on.

Her cries of bliss were loud; almost imagining them echoing through the building, briefly hoping the walls were thick enough to not betray her sexual domination to the other agents as her mind and body was filled with ecstasy.

She wondered if his cock were lodging itself into her stomach with each thrust, so deep was the sensation. Equally in pleasure was him pulling back, marveling she was not being pulled inside out through her core.

Diamond lost complete track of time as each thrust began to set off a set of micro-orgasms, her vaginal muscles clamping around the lengthy cock boring in and out of her, her pussy quivering as if there were a vibrator lodged within her. The seemingly mile-long cock slammed in and out of her in a fast push-slow pull rhythm incessantly as she once again was amazed at the stamina of the fat man.

Suddenly he pulled out of her completely, unhindered whimpers leaving her as her core continued shaking internally.

"OK bitch, now let's see those tits dance again, roll over," the agent commanded.

Without hesitation Diamond moved her right foot down and rolled over, hanging her legs off the desk as she looked up at the agent over her. His face was saturated with sweat, the clear liquid running down the sides of his reddened face and chest as she felt a wave of shame fucking such an obese man and enjoying it swept through her.

The agent grabbed her hips and pulled her further towards him until half of her ass was hanging off the edge of the desk. Then he reached down and gripped beneath her thighs, pulling her legs up.

Diamond assumed he was going to hang her feet off his shoulders, her vaginal muscles twitching in anticipation to the increased depth he would reach. It was a surprise then as he put both her feet on one shoulder, wrapping his arm around her legs to hold them together.

Before she could prepare herself he unexpectedly plunged into her.

"Fuuuuck!" she cried out as her body was forcibly slammed back, her breasts quivering noticeably.

Diamond could not believe how tight her canal felt as the man's long cock once again plunged into her, her legs held tightly together by his other arm.

This time there was no slow drawback as he fucked her, his cock slamming in and out of her repeatedly, his pelvis slamming into her. The only pause was the second or two it took to feed or pull his entire shaft through her canal before reversing the process.

Diamond's body was jerked back continuously, her breasts undulating from the impact of the man slamming into her. She felt her body building up for an explosive release, more worked up than even when he was fingering her as she cried out, babbling continuously.

"Oh God! Fuck! Yes, fuck me! Unh! Oh God! Fuck!" she yelled, as she felt like an entire broom handle was being shoved in and then pulled out of her.

Her breasts were tight as an air-filled balloon, while still quivering and bobbing as the agent thrusted into her vigorously. Her vaginal muscles were clamped down on the long shaft tunneling in and out of her. Her entire body was focused upon the shaft of cock moving deeply in and out of her.

Her mind exploded.

She was thrown into space, a supernova shattering the darkness of the galaxy with its explosion.

The orgasm overwhelmed her and more, making her feel like she was imploding and exploding simultaneously. Her ass tightened along with her vagina, and still the agent plunged in and out of her, as her orgasm continued, his cock keeping her on a perpetual release.

Suddenly the man cried out and plunged into her one more time as she felt his ejaculation splash against her cervix, sending another small wave of orgasms through her. She had imagined a hose being shoved into her earlier, and now it felt like somebody had turned it on full bore as wave after wave of ejaculate pump into her. Diamond remembered the man's large balls, wondering if they were shrinking from the amount of cum he pumped into her, and still her body quivered with orgasms as he continuously emptied himself into her.

He stayed inside her as his cock slowly deflated, feeling it slowly shrinking inside her before he pulled out, easing her legs down until they were once again hanging off the side of the desk.

Vogel pulled his pants back on, leaving the room and she heard applauding outside, knowing the agents had heard them outside, her whole body blushing as she continued to lie on the desk, trying to catch her breath. A few minutes later the branch chief came in, handing her a small jean jacket.

"Nobody seems to know where your clothes are," he said as she laughed, wondering how many agents had taken souvenirs.

She had a similar outfit so she was not too concerned as she got up, putting on the jean jacket.

"It's Agent Lee's," he explained to her silent inquiry. "He's the smallest one of us so hope it fits.

Diamond stood up, putting on the jacket, realizing Agent Lee was the small Asian agent she had seen while dancing. On him she imagined the jacket went to his hips; however, on her 5' 10" frame it was more like a cropped jacket. In addition, with her large breasts she could not button it up; instead leaving it opened in front, the center of her chest and breasts visible. Knowing the men outside the room had seen her in less, she thanked him, preparing to walk out.

She could only imagine how she looked, her ruffled ankle sock and 7-inch platforms, barely there schoolgirl plaid dress without underwear, in a jean jacket with no top, and her pigtails. She probably had a 'just been fucked' look as well.

"Diamond," Vogel's voice came from behind her, causing her to stop and turn around, one side of the jean jacket flying open and briefly flashing a breast as she looked back at the agent. "I think you forgot something," he told her, waving towards the desk.

Regarding the desk she saw a smeared puddle of cum on the edge, which had leaked out of her after the man had pumped what felt like a gallon into her. She could feel the warm fluid slowly leaking out of her, wetting the inside of her thighs as she beheld the small pool of cum.

Without hesitation she smiled, "Well so I have," she said in a little coquettish voice before moving over to the desk. Bending over and taking a long look at the fat agent, Diamond stuck out her tongue and lapped the puddle up, swallowing the salty-sour cold fluid.

As she stood up she looked at Vogel and putting her face in the pout she had used in her routine asked, "So any more concerns branch chief Special Agent sir?" she asked.

The man smiled and shook his head. "Agent Geiger will take you home. We'll have a team meet you in LA, and even possibly somebody on the plane if possible to fly down with you," he told her, "but Geiger will fill you in on the way home," he said, opening the door and letting her out.

As she exited the branch chief's office, all the agents looked at her, their faces wearing shit-eating grins—the knowledge of her having been fucked by their branch chief obvious on their faces. She knew her cries of passion had been heard in the outer office, as well as her 'I've just been thoroughly and completely fucked' look. Not to mention she was wearing nothing but 7" platform heels, ankle sock, a plaid skirt that did little to hide her crotch and ass, and a cropped jean jacket that flashed her tits each time she moved.

She walked over to Agent Geiger who nodded to her, asking if she were ready to leave. She nodded, attempting to squelch the arousal caused by the men's lecherous gazes upon her, the knowledge of her having just been fucked by their boss going through everybody's mind, including her own.

Walking out of the cubical area and heading for the door to the outer warehouse, a small Asian man walked up to her and she knew immediately it was Agent Lee based upon his small stature, thanking him for the loan of his jean jacket.

"Pwease," the small man said, "You wook much better in it than I, pwease keep it," it told her with the same grin as the other men in the room.

She thanked him and followed Agent Geiger out to his car.
On the way home he told her she would receive an alert through her tattoo once a team was prepared to shadow her in Los Angeles. Nick would be driving the van down to California in the morning, but it would not be there until the evening; however, there would still be agents around able to use the surveillance gear, having portable versions as well.

"Just act natural, and if you see anything that may look suspicious, take a picture of it with your camera or hold it up to the belly-cam," he told her.

"Belly-cam?" she asked amused.

"Nick's idea," the agent said, shrugging his shoulders.

She arrived home and taking the plastic case containing her new jewelry, as well as a duffel bag containing her sports bra and skirt which Agent Geiger had been kind enough to retrieve, preparing to get out of the car. He again apologized about her missing panties to which she shrugged, explaining it was not unusual.

Agent Geiger remained in the driveway until she was inside and turned on the porch light as she watched him drive away.

There was one voicemail message on her phone, Mr. DeWight's voice filling the receiver. "Diamond, a limo will be arriving around 8 am to you up. You have a 10 O'clock flight to LA; the driver will have all the details. Do not bother packing, everything will be provided to you at your hotel. Also the driver will bring your outfit to wear for the flight; all you need to bring is yourself."

Knowing the earpiece was near her bugged earrings, she said out loud, "Nick, you there?"

She contained her reaction from the tattoo better expecting it.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, answered again by the steady thrum on her back ribs.

The house seemed desolate missing everything her and Dan shared, as well as Dan. She decided since she did not have to pack, she would get ready for bed, so showered off the stickiness of the Sprite, sweat, as well as the cum from a man other than her fiancé. She was too exhausted to care if the hidden cameras showed her nudity or who was watching. Glancing up, she could not even see where the camera was, impressed at the lack of evidence of anything there.

Finally crawling into bed naked, she thought about the past week. She had four different guys have sex with her, only one being her fiancé and the man of her life. She had been fingered by even more men. She had sucked off two others. And she had signed a contract to become a porn star.

As she drifted to sleep, she wondered what the next week could bring to top that.