Thanks to those who have read the previous 3 LIAR stories. The first chapter of this fourth installment tries to bring readers up to date. While you can read this story separately, it is helpful for background to read the first three installments.

Thanks to "Andrew Martin" for reading and offering some edits to bring this together. Hope you enjoy this installment of the Max "Liar" series.





PRELUDE - Seriously?

The light switch slid upward quietly causing the room to suddenly be bathed in the glow of florescent light that spilled down the wall-to-wall mirror and filled the bathroom. Like most hotel bathrooms, it felt cold and echoed as I stepped up, barefoot to the sink.

Typically I complain about these "new" hotel light fixtures giving so little light it's nearly impossible to shave. More about saving money than about offering guests enough light to see, these new bulbs always feel dim.

But at this moment, it was a whole different story. I was a bit grateful that the light was dim. My brain throbbed with a raging headache from the pace of life I kept over the previous months. Having barely returned from a short mission in Colorado, I was still adjusting to the two-hour time zone difference back home when I was shipped off to Milwaukee. Then a day after that, the fall shift to daylight savings time struck and disrupted me yet again.

"Man up!" I thought to myself as I rubbed my forehead. For a moment I just stood there with my eyes closed tightly shut, thinking about how I got to this moment. Self-reflection doesn't come easy for me; or at least that's what my shrink tells me. I pinched the bridge of my nose firmly trying to clear my brain of the banging inside.

Milwaukee! What an amazingly god forsaken place! What's even more amazing to me is that the locals seem to think their city was attractive. Yeah, like a boarded up, rundown old city was attractive? Some locals even were delusional enough to think it should be considered a tourist destination. Milwaukee only caused me to remember how fantastic Telluride, Colorado had been in recent weeks.

Of course I probably could never go back to Telluride since I uncovered a property fraud scheme that lead to the indictment of the mayor and two of the largest property developers in southwestern Colorado. I'm pretty sure that the mayor is related to half the native population of the city. But then again, I might be able to pull off going back as Andrew or Seth. By going back while in character, or "in Legend" as the Bureau calls it, I could blend in without a problem.

That's one advantage of being an undercover agent for so many years; if you piss people off just change your identity and move on. It's how I've dealt with my entire adult life. Just recreate myself every so often. Throw out everything when it gets too complicated. Throw out the specific job, location, personality, attitudes, fake background, and legend, throw it all away.

The only problem with that is that I've started to throw away the people I've grown to know in those legends as well. Throwing away the people is the part that has changed me. When I started, it was easy. But now; not so much. I find myself keeping a shard of each legend so that I can go back and connect again as that "self".

If my bureau chief ever discovered that I occasionally disappear and revisit previous assignment locations in legend, I'd probably be fired. In route to Colorado I had stopped in Kansas City and spent the weekend as "Andrew Martin" so that I could meet up with Cassie and her friends for dinner and an evening of fun. Even enduring a headache it brought a grin to my face.

Cassie was one of the few people who I met while undercover that came to know my true identity. Sleeping with her while "in legend" only to find out she was using me barely dampened the friendship that resulted. The Kansas City mission was more fun than it should have been.

My eyes squinted as they adjusted to the harsh, stark realization that I needed to get my act together. I had to get out of the place I was in at the moment. "Back to reality" I thought as I shook my head of the memory of Cassie. But then again what is reality? I find myself at a loss for a definition of it.

Beginning to adjust to the light, I slapped some cool water on my face and wiped away the excess with the common white hand towel that was already next to the sink. It smelled of the bleach used in hotel laundry and the perfume of a woman. I gripped the edge of the sink and slowly raised my face to see my own reflection.

The years of undercover work were catching up to me. The image I saw in the mirror was old and getting older every day. There are often random moments when I look at my own reflection and don't know who I am. It's not a psychological breakdown of losing myself in my legend. God knows there have been agents who have fallen into that never-ending loop. It's more of a psychological reflection where I ask myself what the hell I'm doing.

How did I get to this place in my life? Yeah, Billie was now gone. As I stared my own reflection down, I drudged up again the hurt of it. Billie had "taken a trip." To the uninitiated, that sounds wonderful, like she got to go to Hawaii and was sitting on a beach somewhere soaking up the rays. But to those of us in the agency, "took a trip" is a better way of saying she pulled retirement, let the agency relocate her, and suddenly she no longer existed.

Running cold tap water into a clear glass from the marble shelf, I reached to my travel bag. Two dear friends were waiting for me there. I rolled the OxyContin tablets in my palm for a second before popping them into my mouth and gulping them down with the water. As the dry, sticky tablets hit the back of my throat I wondered how long it would be until "I'd take my trip."

It's not easy to book a trip like the one Billie just took. It takes NSA and FBI working together. Need I say more? But Billie pulled it off. Her phone numbers no longer reach her and nobody but our inner circle of team members, even mention her anymore. Some were sorry to lose her but for others there was a deep sense of envy that she got out alive.

Maybe it is a psychological breakdown I'm going through. Just the thought of Billie being gone, makes me care less about anything. Honesty here. Yes, I've thought about it. There are moments when I think about taking out my Sig 9mm and sending myself on a one way trip. But thoughts like that only come to the forefront in the darkest moments of my life. Like every night.

Gripping the edge of the vanity, I hovered over the sink with my eyes clenched shut. The attempt to shut out the noise of life wasn't working so I hoped the drugs would kick in quickly to take the pain away. As I did, I thought of Jessica. My new life since clearing her of the charges against her was pretty good. She was younger than me, gorgeous, blond, funny, and a great fuck. I used her while under cover to convict her husband. She used me to clear her name of any involvement when she found out I was an FBI agent. And we both had fun using each other. We enjoyed each other, but we both knew we were together only because we were thrown together during a case.

I heard movement in the bedroom and glance over at the bathroom door. The mirror on the back of the door perfectly reflected the mirror in the hallway, reflecting the girl on the bed. Like a pinball of images I can see her there. It's not Jessica. It's not Billie. Hell I can't even remember her name. So what the fuck do I care, it's just another warm body of a warm human I manipulated to get what I wanted. Not the sex, although she was pretty good in the sack. But I needed information. So fuck her, use her for information, and toss her aside as just another throwaway person. Then rationalize it as just a part of the job.

Turning my attention again to the reflection in the mirror in front of me, I exhaled slowly and stared straight ahead. It taunts me. The light caused my eyes to reflect a line of florescent light across my pupil like a photographer's ring light. I loathe that person... the person I've become. I lie, I cheat, I steal, I use people, I put people in jail; all in the name of justice.

"Do you have to leave so soon?" She called out from the bedroom. Her voice was direct while her image ricocheted from mirror to mirror into the bathroom.

I glanced back. Her long, bronze leg stretched lazily across the pure white sheets as she sat up. The contrast of her dark skin against the white was alluring; even if I knew her tan was from a spray can or a booth. Who the hell tans like that in Milwaukee? When was the last time the sun actually shared any warmth in this hellhole of a town?

Her hair was tussled due to our dalliance. Kinda cute I thought. For a moment of self-indulgent pride I thought to myself, "I caused that!" Then my self-indulgent grin faded as I thought about the aftermath of people I've tossed aside along the way. "Yeah, I caused that." It was an almost audible thought that passed breathily through my lips.

"Sorry babe. But you know people will be waiting for me." I said to the mirror but also to the woman still naked in the next room. I stepped into the small hallway of the hotel room and put on the underwear that had been thrown against the wall the night before. Then I started dressing in the diffused light from the bathroom.

Dark suit pants were buckled after tucking in a neatly pressed, dark, dress shirt. I pulled the jacket off the hanger and folded it on my arm before going back over to the bed.

Bending down I kissed the passionate woman. She was a mature, brown-eyed beauty who knew how to take care of herself. Either that or she knew a great plastic surgeon. She knew how to take care of a man too. As we kissed I gripped her breast, causing her to arch her torso into my hand. It was warm and her button like nipple pressed against my palm, begging for additional attention.

She reached up and put her hands around my neck, trying to draw me back into bed. "Hon, please. You know I've got to go to work today. People will begin arriving in an hour or so." I mumbled through lips that were still pressed to hers.

Letting go, she pouted and fell back into bed, resigned to the fact that I really was leaving. I grinned and went back to the bathroom to finish buttoning my shirt.

"Will you call?" She whispered as I finished the top button.

"I will. I promise." I said.

"When?" She pleaded.

"Later today hon. You know how incredibly busy I'll be today." I called back.

With that I tucked the white insert of my clerical collar into place before reminding her, "It's Sunday."





1 - Now What?

This time around it was nothing more than a glorified stake out. Well, that in addition to interviewing the staff at Saint John The Evangelist church. Rev. Jeffrey R. Haines, the pastor had contacted the FBI with concerns that well known crime syndicate leaders had been visiting the building in the afternoons. He had observed them sitting closely together in the middle of the sanctuary; their henchmen standing guard at the rear.

The church that once had served solely as a place for the congregation to worship, had now become also a museum, arts performance hall, and lecture center. Just walking into a church churned up memories of being dragged to a fundamentalist church as a kid. It's not that my parents were all that religious. But my father, also an undercover FBI agent, took us while playing the part of a doting husband. He wasn't undercover at the time; that was my reality as a child. He was just playing the role, living the lie. I learned from the best.

Being in a church reminds me why I'm an agnostic. I've seen the good and the bad in people. Yeah there are a few devout and sincere people in churches. But they're few and far between.

Now this church, like churches across the nation, had become a relic of the past. Hundreds of people toured this building daily and crowds gathered weekly for pipe organ concerts. With the decline of the city it was one of the few remaining centers of culture in a vast wasteland of drab.

This was an off day. Few tourists wandered through and there were no scheduled concerts or events. So I was bored beyond belief. I sat in the darkness, my head leaning back against the padded seat. From my hiding place I could see through the lattice woodwork into the main cathedral. But of course that would be if my eyes were open. My brain still throbbed with a hangover from too much alcohol the night before. My cock throbbed, having been spent to excess from too much Megan the night before. Fuck! Megan. That's her name. Knew I'd remember sometime along the way.

Megan was the long legged, middle-aged beauty that had wandered into the cathedral several days in a row. I thought she might be connected to the problems Father Haines had contacted us about, but after a ... lets say.... "thorough probing" ... I was pretty sure it's a dead in lead. She seemed to be just a screwed up woman with sexual issues trying to find hope and answers to her confusion.

I could be wrong. But at this point I had ruled her out of having anything to do with this. That didn't stop me from doing a bit of private counseling, if you catch my drift. God, I had to do something in freakin' Milwaukee to avoid my brain from splitting from the intense dullness of this place.

It did seem a bit odd to me that Megan had been seen with so many of the mob's henchmen. Her regular visits to the church had more to it than just a religious thing. Still, by this point I didn't see any connection.

Suddenly I felt the framework of wood around shake as a body fell into the seat next to me. It was next to me but separated by a highly polished and darkly stained wood, wall. Yeah. I was hiding in the confessional booth.

"Father, bless me for I have sinned." The female voice on the other side of the wall called out.

I fumbled for a moment trying to consider what to do. My head dropped back against the seat in irritation. I thumped my brain against the high backed chair three times in mocked frustration before speaking.

"I'm sorry my child. It's not time for confessions...." I started to shut down what I knew Rev. Haines would not want to take place in his church. I certainly had no right to hear confessions as a guest in this place. Of all the people in the world who was I to hear confessions?

But she interrupted me quickly. "Father! It's been two weeks since my last confession and I cannot wait any longer. I saw your door was closed and I assumed that you were accepting early confessions before Mass." She spoke quickly, with urgency.

"Again, you will need to wait until the proper time. Father Haines will be hearing confessions later this afternoon." I replied.

"I have sinned greatly," She said urgently. Her voice seemed soft, sweet, but I couldn't judge an age.

"I just don't think it's ..." I tried to interject.

"I slept with him! I confess it. We spent the whole afternoon in carnal sin." She blurted out.

Silence fell across the space between us. The steps of parishioners in the rear of the sanctuary echoed gently against the marble walls. Suddenly, the thought of hearing a confession was becoming a bit more appealing. It wasn't nearly as dull as just sitting here for another two hours doing nothing.

"Confess your sin now." I tried not to grin as I urged her on.

"Forgive me, Father for I have sinned; it's been two weeks since my last Confession. I accuse myself of the following sins. I have lived with the sin of envy, the sin of rejecting the poor, and the sin of infidelity. I have had sexual relations with a man that is not my husband. I cannot tell you the number of times." Her voice began to waver as if trying to put into words her raging thoughts. "I believe it was four times but it may have been more."

I nearly choked as she gave commentary as to her confession. Regaining composure was difficult as she concluded her thought, "I am sorry for these sins and all the sins of my whole life, especially this sin of envy, stealing and infidelity confessed previously."

There was a pause. I knew enough from childhood and from having used my priest legend previously, that I needed to lead her in a prayer of penitence before advising her. Then absolve her before hearing her recite the Act of Contrition. But knowing the A B C of an action is not the same as knowing the nuance of daily practice. Certainly she would figure out that I wasn't really a priest.

Yet in the midst of the awkward silence I found that I couldn't help myself. My curiosity was aroused. Yeah. It was my "curiosity" that was "aroused." So I chose to advise her.

"My child. You need to confess the whole experience. Not just the fact that you had an affair or an infidelity. You need to tell me about it." I said sternly.

I could hear her breathing heavily as she gathered her thoughts. She shifted in the seat, causing the crushed velvet cloth of the seat to rustle.

"You can do this. It's your path to forgiveness," I chided, edging her on.

"I .. I met him at work. I showed him a few houses. He's looking to buy a home and, ... I'm a realtor..." She muttered in random spurts. "I am sorry for these sins and all the sins of my whole life, especially this sin of envy, stealing..."

"No penitence doesn't that easily. I need you to tell me everything. Every detail. Tell me the horrible thing you've done." I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity, wondering if she'd buy it. Certainly she wouldn't fall for it; she was a real catholic.

"Father. Forgive my bluntness. But are you saying that I have to confess every detail of my infidelity?"

I paused, wondering if I could get away with this before speaking "You don't understand what I'm saying?" I couldn't believe my own comments to this poor woman. Yet it was my voice. Was I sick? Yeah, I'm sick. Using people like toys for my entertainment was becoming the norm. I wasn't always like this. Early on I was idealistic and believed that I could make a difference. But now people's pain became my amusement.

At that moment I discovered that I was really going through confession. I was not only falling into the pit of using people but making a sport of it along the way.

I could hear her sigh softly and shift in her seat. I assumed she was pondering her response. "Father, I.." She began, but hesitated. She understood that I was asking her to tell me the gritty details of her sinful encounter, to own the failure. I was asking her to do something that I couldn't bring myself to do: admit my own humanity.

I realize that I couldn't force her to do this. My judgment was clouded and it was time to back down. But then I heard her sigh more deeply. Through the shadows of the veil, I could see her drop her head into her hands. But she softly replied.

"It had been a long day of showing homes. Mike, that's his name. He has a very specific taste in homes and I was trying to go from place to place, getting an idea of what he wanted." She spoke with a calmer, softer, deeper voice now. The impatience of 'going to confession' was changed into actually confessing.





We arrived at a lovely, four bedroom, three and a half bath, place in Elm Grove, on Circle Dr. It was a Tudor and stone home that seemed to fit his personality.

A light rain was beginning to fall so we headed up the sidewalk a bit too quickly. The sidewalk was one of those quaint ones with paver stones. In our haste, the heel of my right shoe slid off the stone pathway and dug into the yard. It caused me to slightly twist my ankle. Oh, it was nothing serious, not even painful. But it was just enough that I spent the rest of that showing, avoiding situations where I would have to stand in one place.
We were acting like kids at times. It was fun, walking through homes that were partially lived in while their owners were preparing to move. At a couple of the houses, we had childishly looked through cabinets and drawers. Mike made a few comments about peeking in the bedside drawers of the master bedrooms to see if any of the owners had left sex toys. We giggled at the thought and were shocked when we actually found one. He pointed the discovered dildo at me and waved it like a sword with a playful look on his face. I laughed at the thought of finding the thing and then laughed at the way he was toying with me.


I guess I enjoyed the sexual comments, the innuendos, and the suggestive humor. I wondered if he was like that with every woman or if he thought I was special enough to flirt with me.

Mike was busy looking at the kitchen cabinetry so I stepped into the hallway bathroom to look for a towel. I thought there might be a hand towel that I could use to dry off my face from the rain. The owners of this home hadn't moved out entirely so there was one. The walls were bare of any photos or artwork. There were no personal items or electronics either. But there were a few generic decorations, sparse furniture and a couch with an easy chair next to a rectangular wooden coffee table.

I sat on the couch while I dried my face and then ran the towel down my legs. It was only then that I realized that the skirt I was wearing was a bit flirtatious, showing off a lot of leg. Maybe I had done it on purpose, knowing Mike was an attractive man. God, subconsciously I had been flirting with him too.

I put my foot up on the coffee table to rest it a moment. I leaned my leg to one side so that I could reach the clasp and release the shoe from my foot. There was no real damage. Just that momentary twinge when you step on something the wrong way. I realized that Mike had re-entered the room and was watching me.

He asked if I was okay as he moved closer to where I was seated.

I told him Yeah, I just twisted it a bit walking up the sidewalk. I made some lame joke about being kinda klutzy,

He told me that he thought 'graceful' would be a more likely term from his view. For a moment I thought he was making an attempt at sarcasm but I quickly realized he was being complimentary.

He stepped over to the coffee table and sat down on it right in front of me. Shifting his knees to one side, he gently lifted my foot onto his lap and began massaging it.

I told him that it was okay. I even tried to pull away but he insisted.

He interrupted softly by shushing me and looked directly into my eyes. I have to admit. I melted a bit. His chiseled jaw and four day stubble was just more than I could take. I rested back on the couch and submitted to whatever he wanted. At that very moment I had already sinned in my mind. I didn't care about anything and whatever he wanted was just fine with me.

His massage was so relaxing. His firm hand was warm as he gripped the bridge of my foot and massaged the instep. His other hand gently massaged my ankle, his thumb rubbing up the back of my foot to the base of my calf. My body began to desire his grip. Thoughts of his firm hands gripping my ass flashed through my mind causing me to breakdown the barriers of our professional relationship.

Yes, I melted. I could feel my whole body just drip into the couch as my head fell back against the cushion. He knew it too. Through my nearly closed eyes I could see him grin with accomplishment. He took pleasure in teasing me as his strokes rose to my calf.

I found myself intentionally shifting my hips, bringing them to the edge of the couch. I felt the front ridge of the couch edge press against my ass. I rotated my leg so that my ankle fell flat on his lap, knowing full well that it caused my leg to bend and spread me open like a butterfly wing. My short skirt rose as I moved my leg, exposing my thigh to his view. And he took full advantage of it. I could see him gazing at me, tilting his head shamelessly taking in the view. It warmed me somehow. Inside my whole body tingled with the thought that he was looking at me as a sexual being. I clinched my teeth for a moment as it became totally apparent to me that I was getting aroused; and wet. But I didn't care. I let it happen.

I knew what I was doing and he knew what I was doing. His hands slid up my calf and he drew my leg to him and began to massage my thigh. I tucked my foot around behind his hip, gently pulling him into me. His hands explored my knee and his fingertips slid along my inner thigh. My mouth reflexively opened as my eyes clenched shut.

Laying there experiencing the touch of a man's hands along my leg, coming closer and closer to my most intimate parts, I thought of so many things. I thought of my desires that seemed to be more and more unfulfilled. I thought of my marriage that had grown routine and cold. Don't get me wrong, my husband is a wonderful man and I have no intention of leaving him. But I long to be desired sexually, wanted, and even lusted after. I know I'm not the most beautiful woman around. I get that. But even average people want to know they're desired every once in a while.

This man desired me. He wanted to fulfill my fantasy. Okay, I admit it. I've often thought about what it would be like; what I would do, if just one of these men I show houses to would make a sexual advance. It's the fantasy that I often masturbate to. Here I was, in reality, being seduced by an attractive man during a showing.

The sensation of the material of my skirt being pulled up over my hips shook me from my drifting thoughts. The cool air from the room rushed across my body. I opened my eyes to see him gazing at me. There was desire in his gaze. He gripped my other leg and raised it high in the air as he pulled at my panties. I grinned to myself as I thought how grateful I was that I had recently groomed myself. He tugged and bent my free leg to pull the panties off my foot, leaving them to dangle across my other thigh.

Letting go of my leg, I gently lowered it, spreading it open as I rested my foot on the opposite side of the coffee table next to his hip. He sat there between my legs, like a kid in a candy store, not knowing where to begin as he surveyed me. Then I did something I don't even regret. I spread myself open to him and arched my hips upward to let him see all of me. My heart raced so hard I could feel my chest pounding as I looked at his face. It was almost trashy the way I was offering myself to him. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to be fully exposed to him. Maybe I really just wanted to know if I was still desirable to a man.

I bit at my own lip as I waited to see his reaction. I wanted the touch of a man who wanted me. I was giving myself to him with no strings attached, begging him to go further. He didn't have to buy me or take me to dinner. He didn't have to make commitments or even tell me that he loved me. All he had to do was pleasure me.

I fixed my eyes on his as he drank in the view. The smirk on his face told me that I had already won and would get what I wanted. He was looking at me. He was exploring my intimate parts with his eyes as his hands slid up my thighs. He glanced up to see that I was watching him. Our eyes fixed on each other and we took in that moment as his hands slide even higher. I gave him an almost imperceptible nod, urging him on, letting him know it was all right.

As his grip slid along my thighs his thumbs were pointed down between my legs and his fingers gripped the top of my flesh. Growing closer, I could feel his thumbs reach my ass. His grip was firm and I could feel him almost gripping my pelvic bone. The web between his fingers and thumbs could be felt along my outer mounds. His fingers explored my pubic hair as his thumbs pressed inward parting my ass. The massaging motion of his thumbs against my ass penetrated deeply into my tissue, down to the very bone. I could feel my own breath become erratic.

Our eyes remained fixed as I felt the most erotic sensation of my life. His hands pressed outward, pushing my legs apart and causing my mounds to open wide. I could feel my own inner labia open and slightly gape as he spread me apart. I inhaled deeply and arched my torso. Without even realizing it I found that I was fondling my own breasts that were now raised high. My eyes closed and mouth opened to drink in the experience.

His firm grip on my pelvic area was driving me nuts as his thumbs spread my ass. I felt more sexually aroused than I had been in years; totally exposed to a stranger in broad daylight. The cool air rushing around my labia and even the odd sensation of his thumbs spreading my ass brought sensations I had never experienced.

The cool air of the room was soon to be replaced with the warm wet feeling of his mouth on me. His gaze abruptly ended as he went down on me and began to eat at me. His thick tongue penetrated me easily and curled upward as he drew his face up along my body. It caused his tongue to draw out of me and along my wetness to my clit. He dug at my clit with the tip of his tongue, causing me to become even more excited. His lips sucked at my clit, his head turned sideways to gently suck my clit in and out of his puckered lips. Each draw caused a shuttering wave of excitement to flow through my core.

I slid my fingers through his hair, massaging his head for a moment as he pleasured me. But when he touched the right spot with the right motion, I gripped his head and pulled him into me. I felt like I was forcing his face to grind into me. He didn't seem to mind at all. His hands slid up my sides as he buried his face between my legs. Within moments he was gripping my breasts as he devoured me.

I don't remember how long it went on. But it felt like an eternity and yet it felt like it ended far too soon. He slid back and pulled his arms from under me before moving forward into me. His hips pressed against my spread legs. My clit rubbed against the bulge in his jeans as he leaned forward and kissed me. His mouth was wet with my own arousal, salty and musty. But I kissed him deeply. His hand slid across my face, caressing me gently.

He came right out and asked. He whispered, "Is there any reason why I can't just fuck you good and hard right here, right now?"

Everything in society tells women they shouldn't want such aggressive, masculine men today. They say we should want emotional metro-sexuals and that we should despise the macho types. But the moment he told me he wanted to fuck me was the moment I realized that I wanted a man, not a wimp. I wanted to be fucked by a macho, guy who wanted me.

For a moment, I tried to sheepishly end it. I told him that I'd have to think about it.

He hesitated as our eyes locked, his face puzzled by my response. His furrowed brow and downcast expression quickly faded as he saw the wicked grin on my face. Either that or he realized I was feverishly tugging at his belt buckle, all but ripping his fly open. My reward for the effort was huge. He pressed his face to mine and we kissed as I worked the clasp of his jeans open. Our lips never parted as he helped me tug his pants down from his hips.

Then the warm sensation of his cock as it fell free of the material that bound him. He pressed his body toward mine and I could feel his fullness press against my sex. I gripped at his hips and pulled him into me, spreading my legs until they ached.

The vein of his cock pressed against my labia as he slowly shifted his hips as if dancing to music that wasn't there. The motion was making me so wet that I could feel his cock slide up and down along my labia. With each stroke I was internally begging him to thrust into me. But he seemed to enjoy the teasing, the toying and the anticipation.

Our kisses were passionate and fresh. The exploration of a new lover was making my heart pound with excitement. I turned to the task of unbuttoning his shirt as he tugged and pulled my blouse from my skirt that was now wadded up in a mess. We both grinned and fumbled at each other's buttons.


When our shirts were pulled away we just sat there enjoying the view of each other, as his cock remained pressed against my wetness. My breasts were bound still by black lace but Mike wasted no time discovering the center clasp that held my bra in place. He mumbled "I got this..." as his fingers tugged and explored the device for a moment. Seconds later it sprang apart and lay across my chest like a veil.

My stomach was in knots with the pent up anticipation of this moment. He leaned back, upright on his knees, between my legs. His cock lay across my clit with his head resting in my trimmed pubic hair. Reflexively I shifted my hips, enjoying the pleasure of his manhood resting against my labia.

He gently folded the cups of my bra back to each side, slowly like he was enjoying the moment. His gaze on my chest warmed me. This man wanted me. Sex wasn't a duty or a fulfillment of marital responsibility. He truly was enjoying me. I loved the emotional sensation of being desired by someone.

Cool air struck my nipples as he pulled the fabric away. For a moment reality set into my consciousness. It was broad daylight and I was completely exposed; barely covered at the midriff by the skirt that was crumpled up along my waist. I started to put my hands over my breasts, but he took my wrists and pulled my arms to each side.

He asked me why I was covering up as he leaned into me. The movement caused his cock to press again into me. My body shivered with excitement at the sensation.

I blushed a bit I guess. I tried to look away, but he took a hand to my cheek and pulled my face back to look at him.

It's just that its been a while since someone looked at me like a sexual being. I searched for the words to tell him that, my eyes looking upward in hopes of finding a way to express my thoughts.

That's when he told me he saw me as a desirable woman.

I tried not to cry. I tried not to react. But there I was, fully exposed to him.

He kept saying it. That I was a desirable woman. He even asked me if I understood what he was saying. Then he admitted that he had been flirting with me all day.

I started to pull my hand away cover my face with my hand, but again he pulled my hands to the side. He looked deeply into my eyes and asked if I wanted him to stop.

It seemed like an odd question from his earlier boldness. But beneath the bold exterior, he was gentle and loving. I breathily whispered 'God no'.

Still holding my hands to each side, my breasts exposed to his view and my legs spread around his hips; he shifted his hips away from mine. The head of his cock slid down across my clit and the tip rested between my lips. Gently, lovingly he pressed into me. I felt every inch of him as he slowly penetrated me.

His cock wasn't as long as my husbands, but his girth was so much thicker that my mouth opened and my eyes clenched at the feeling of being spread open. I could feel my eyes roll into the back of my brain as his cock head reached the inner lining of my body. From his kneeling position the angle was causing his head to quickly find the most precious spot. I could feel the ridge of his head rubbing at just the right spot almost as if his penis was perfectly designed for the sole purpose of causing me pleasure.

He fell forward over me. The feeling of his body pressing down on top of me was soul clenching. He was gentle and steady, almost searching for the kind of movements that caused me to react. Then when he found the right angle I reflexively gripped his torso, pulling him into me. He found the movement that caused my very core to shiver. My breathing became shallow and quickened as he took steady, gentle thrusts into me. I knew deep inside that he was delaying his pleasure to let me experience my own.

He had found a place deeply hidden in me that was causing a swelling sense of pleasure I hadn't known in a long time. The hood of his cock seemed like it was caressing my inner being as it steadily moved within me.

I burst into tears as the first wave of orgasm shattered my inhibitions causing me to groan with abandoned pleasure. I felt my muscles clench inside me as the wave passed by. His thrusts slowed to a more metered pace, letting me enjoy the moment. Then a wicked little aftershock shot through me causing my hips to squirm beneath his weight.

I could hear a smirking chuckle against my cheek coming from his lips as the second wave hit. His face was against mine; the warmth of his breath tickled my earlobe.


Gripping his face I pulled his head to face me and deeply kissed him again. His tongue thrust into my mouth just as his cock thrust into me again. Shamelessly I dug my tongue into his mouth, pulling his head into me.

The sensation of his kiss, the taste of my own arousal still on his tongue, and the feeling of his hard cock inside me sent me over the edge. I may have snapped or something. I lost all sense of reality.

Shoving him back by gripping his shoulders I could see a surprised look on his face. I'm sure he must have thought I was done with him after getting "mine". But my devilish grin reassured him that I wasn't through with him just yet.

His cock slipped out of me as he backed away. I sat up and for the first time got a good look at his erect form. He wasn't as large as I had thought, having only felt him inside me. But he was rock solid and begging for more.

I kept pushing him backward until his hips struck the coffee table behind him. My feet fell to the floor from their perch on the table around him. He soon figured out what I wanted and sat on the coffee table.

Kneeling down between his legs I shoved his knees apart. His balls rested on the edge of the coffee table and his cock pointed up at me. God, I've never done this before. I've never taken a guy in my mouth after he's been inside me. Guess I live a bit of a sheltered life, but by the time my husband penetrates me, we're about at the end of our encounter.

Yet I couldn't help myself. I cupped his balls in my hands and swiftly dropped my face down between his legs. His cock was swallowed as far as I could take it. It seemed to pulsate in my mouth as I stroked him. The taste of my juices on his cock drove me insane as I bobbed up and down on his manhood.

I could feel his hips moving into me with each stroke. Praying he could hold on for more, I slowed my pace. I wasn't done with him just yet. As I stood up I pushed him back even further until he fell backward, laying on the coffee table. His hard cock pointed to the ceiling, just waiting for final relief.

The sight of him lying there exposed and erect seemed to drive me to do things that aren't my personality. I stood there looking at his naked body on the coffee table. I could feel the panties that were still slung loosely on one leg as they fell to my feet. I shoved the crumpled wad of my skirt down my hips and let the skirt fall to the floor also.

It was almost like an out of body experience as something wicked took over. I literally stepped up. One foot was placed to the right of his hip on the table. Then stepping out of the remains of my clothing, my other foot stepped up to the other side of his body. I stood on the coffee table over him, looking down at him.

The smirk on his face told me that he enjoyed the view. So I went with it. I took slight, awkward steps to each side to offer a wider stance and better view for my lover. I'm not sure what I was thinking. But I reached between my legs and spread my labia for his viewing pleasure.

Maybe my eyes were closed at this point, maybe they were just rolled to the back of my brain at the erotic sensations of being a bit exhibitionist. But I remember hearing his gasp that caused me to look down at him.
He had begun stroking himself while watching me above him. His mouth was agape with the view. The demanding words that came from my mouth shocked me. I didn't know that I could be so sexually aggressive. But I said it out loud. "Don't you dare cum yet. I'm not done!" It was in a somewhat demanding tone.

Without embarrassment I slowly squatted down until I could reach his cock with my hands. I gripped him tightly to keep him pointing upward and slowly impaled his cock deeply into my body. I was still wet from him and he slid into me gracefully until I felt his hilt against my clit.

Still on my feet, I started to shift my hips up and down gratuitously. My hands fell to his chest to steady me on top of him. My head fell backward as I rode him for my own pleasure.

He raised one arm above his head and tucked it behind him to help raise his head. I could tell he wanted to see the show as well as experience the sensations. I grinned to myself at that thought. Then I felt his other hand grip my breast, his thumb rubbing my nipple in gentle caresses across the tip.

The feeling of his grip on my breast sent a static shock through me. It was at that point that I vaguely remember the sensation of being completely free. I rode him and I rode him hard. I began grinding into him in reckless abandon as a wave of orgasm struck. I truly don't remember how many and how long it was. But I fell forward into him, my feet sliding back as I fell to my knees. I could feel wetness on the sides of his hips between his skin and mine. I had drenched him in my lost moments of sexual surrender.

Just as my face fell to his and we began to kiss, I could feel his cock begin to thrust up into me. Each thrust raised my whole body up as his firm torso bucked against me. Then he grabbed the back of my head and kissed me deeply. His free hand found my ass and gripped me firmly. His middle finger gently penetrated my ass ever so slightly. I could feel my flesh spread to accept his cock and his finger inside me. It was as if he was using his grip to force my hips down into his as his cock released in shuttering spasms inside me. I could feel his breathing disrupted against my mouth as his body writhed beneath me.

I squeezed his cock within me by clenching my muscles around him, feeling each twitch of his orgasm as it released warmth and wetness into my body.

Draped across his body I stayed there for as long as I could, savoring the experience. I didn't want it to be over. But I knew it was. Somehow I wished I could start the afternoon again and do this at every house we had visited.

We cleaned ourselves up and redressed. Avoiding any telltale signs of what we had done, I took some spray cleaner from the kitchen and I wiped down the coffee table with a paper towel. I even stuffed the dirty paper towel in my purse to make sure nobody saw anything suspicious.

After putting the spray cleaner away in the kitchen I went back to the living room and started to put on my jacket. He was sitting on the freshly cleaned coffee table.

God it was awkward. I didn't know what to say or do. I had just had random, wanton, unprotected sex with this man that I barely knew. Worse than that, I didn't care.

As I passed by, he reached out and gripped my hand. Pulling me over to him I stood in front of him as he sat there looking up at me. There was that moment of awkward silence. It's the moment between indefensible, reckless sex on a coffee table that led to a mind blowing orgasm and the moment our eyes meet his again. I was avoiding direct eye contact with him, not knowing how he would respond to me following our dalliance. He asked softly if I was sorry for what we had done.

I stammered a bit. Searching for the words to communicate my thoughts I started suddenly, speaking more loudly. I tried to explain that I don't just sleep around like that.

He stopped my thought before I could finish. He was so kind as he reassured me that he didn't think I would ever be that kind of woman.


But this time I interrupted him. I did do that, and I apparently am that kind of woman.

We both just waited in quietness.

Finally he spoke again to tell me that he wasn't sorry at all and that he hoped I wasn't either. He even said it was the most refreshing sexual experience he enjoyed in years.

I laughed it off, I told him not to over think it and that I wasn't the kind to do that with every client I took to a viewing. I smirked or maybe even blushed at the thought. Then I pressed him to leave because the home owners had only blocked out three hours to be away. Pulling at his hand that had taken mine a moment earlier, I pulled him to his feet. He mockingly let me tug at him as if he didn't want to go.

He finally stood up and moved closely to me, drawing me to him. We passionately kissed before turning toward the door. He hesitated when he reached for the front door knob and turned to me. He told me he would put a bid in for this house on one condition. He said it as he held the edge of the door in his hand.

I took a half step back and tilted my head in response. He didn't say anything at first so I urged him on to tell me his condition.

He told me he would put a bid in for this house at their asking price if I would show him five more houses next week. He grinned wildly as he told me he wanted to see one every afternoon.

The wicked look in his eye told me everything I needed to know. He had already told me that he didn't need to settle on a house and close for another four months. If he found a home too quickly it would become a problem with the lease on his current place.

He shot me a quizzical look as he tried to understand why I was questioning it in my mind.

So I told him I just didn't want him to buy something on a whim. Then I pushed further. I knew what I was saying but I couldn't believe I was saying it. I asked him if he wouldn't be better off if I showed him a dozen houses over the next three weeks at the same time each afternoon.

I searched his eyes to know if I was overshooting my potential. I even sarcastically commented that I wouldn't want to rush his decision. But it wasn't that. I think I'd make any excuse to see him again. I know it's wrong but I would.

He paused as a smile spread across his face. He knew what I was offering. He even said he might want to view homes even after moving in to this one.





2 - Caught!

I sat in the dim light of the confessional booth a bit stunned at the story being told to me by the soft, sensual voice from the booth next to me. Oddly enough the only thing that was going through my head was how grateful I was that the liturgical robe I was wearing would probably hide the fact that I was participating in a form of self-gratification that I'm sure would not meet the approval of my catholic hosts.

I was stroking my priestly staff with my whole arm stuck between the folds of the robe. Oddly enough the small, dark, booth had begun to feel a lot like a booth at the local x rated video shop.

"Father?" the female voice beckoned from through the lattice and cloth. I was about to respond when I heard the sound of movement outside the booth.

A hastened knock on the door shook my mental clarity as I heard whispers outside "Dear God, tell me he's not doing what I think he's doing!"

Ten minutes later I was sitting in the priest's office getting the most amazing ass chewing of my life. He took top honors away from my lead trainer at Quantico. Of course my FBI trainer was from Georgia. It's hard to take an ass chewing seriously when the person doing the chewing has a southern accent.

This priest ranted on for the better part of a half hour while waiting for a response from my direct report in Clarksburg. It's not that I had never heard such language or even the specific words this priest was using. It's just that I had never them in such colorful combinations.

By the time the phone rang I was looking forward to hearing my boss chew me out. She would probably be a bit easier on me than men who went to Catholic high schools.

...I was wrong.





Leaving the office still dressed as a priest I was resigned to the fact that I was being called back to Clarksburg for my misuse of the undercover position. At this point in my life I guess it was coming. The feelings of burn out were even more oppressive as I grabbed the last of my things.

The marble hallway leading to the office wing lobby echoed with the sounds of women chatting. Glancing down the hall there were several staff members in the lobby that I chose to avoid. Even in my burned out condition I'd rather not be the object of office wide gossip. So I turned the other direction and decided to leave through the main sanctuary and out the front doors.

There were only a few people in the sanctuary; most just doing what Catholics do. A few were kneeling in random pews and in the rear corner a photographer was looking for the right angle to capture the beauty of the space. Sunlight was beginning to creep in through the stain glassed windows so I could see his interest in getting into the right position for a good shot.

I walked down the right side of the sanctuary, trying to avoid being in the photographer's shot. Something caught my attention as I passed through the second set of pews. It's that moment of Déjà vu mixed with a memory of the past. I paused and glanced around trying to wrap my brain around it was that had drawn piqued my senses. 'Okay, it's just that I did an undercover op early on in my career at a Catholic Church in Falls Church, Virginia. Maybe it's just a flash of an old memory, I thought to myself.

I grinned to myself reliving the memory of that op in Virginia. It was the first field action I took with a new handler; Billie. She was still in my mind and I could get that woman out of my gray matter. Shaking my head to clear the cob webs I turned to continue my trek out of this place. I smirked thinking that my earliest field op was in a Catholic Church and after this screw up, my last op might be a Catholic Church.

Two steps further, I stopped again. This time was different. Billie! What triggered my memory moment was the smell of her perfume. Billie always used a very unique scent. It was something she discovered while in Paris as a college student and to this day, she custom ordered it as needed. It was distinct and nothing like anything she could find in the states.

I turned rapidly to scan the room, trying to see where it was coming from only to see a woman in a tight brown leather jacket leaving the sanctuary through a side door. She was moving quickly so I rushed to follow her.

Running down a side hallway and turning the corner slowly, controlling my breathing, I looked outside through a vestibule window to see her. In the parking lot, she handed a satchel to a tall man who quickly ducked into a black SUV that then pulled away quickly.

She turned and began walking down the street as if nothing had happened. Her pace was perfect, showing no sign of fear or reaction. It was casual as if nothing was going on. She was good at blending in during an undercover op. Nothing seemed to shake her. I've never known anyone who could maintain their legend under pressure like Billie. But her pace and the sway of her hips gave her away. I knew it was pure Billie. She always had an aggressive swagger as she walked. She was always confident, strong, and in control. It was Billie. It had to be.

"Billie!" I shouted out toward the figure as I passed through the front doors and into the parking lot.

Her pace hesitated and the swagger disappeared. I could see the form of the woman stiffen and begin walking a bit more quickly. So I picked up the pace and began following, trying to catch up.

The form turned the corner and I ran to catch her. I knew that if it was Billie she would... I turned the corner and my fears were correct. She was gone. Nobody could shake a tail like Billie; in more ways than one.





Confused and dazed by the morning's events I went back to the hotel where I had been staying. I had to ditch the priest garb, change into street clothes and find her. Yeah, I was about to blow off the orders I had to return to Clarksburg. Maybe not ignore them but stretch it. They didn't tell me when I needed to be back in Clarksburg. I was just told to go back to Clarksburg and report in.

Cramming my things together in my suitcase, I ran my fingers through my hair. It felt good to be out of the priest's robe. My shirt was still on the hanger flung on the bed. Out of the disheveled mess of my luggage I found socks and boxers. The socks I tossed on top of the shirt. The boxers were at my ankles being pulled upward when a knock on the door startled my attention.

I looked through the peephole to see a woman in dark glasses, with short cropped hair.

"Let me in shithead," Billie said sternly to the other side of the door.

The latch had barely been turned when she barged her way into the room.

"Of all the lame-brained, half-assed, dip-shit things you've ever done this one ranks up there with the best." She ranted as she passed by me and on into the room.

"Billie, what the hell is going on?" I demanded. "How the hell did you find me?"

"I'm a fuckin' undercover field agent who's fuckin' trained to find people you shithead!" She barked back.

I gave a mocking laugh at her comment. Sarcasm was a gift of God in my life. It was partially out of utter frustration and anger at her for leaving me, leaving me hurting and alone, not to mention lying to me for months.

"Laugh it up furball. You just about blew a year and a half of undercover work by showing up here." She furrowed her brow trying to look stern but all I could see was the woman that I've loved for nearly ten years who left me and married someone else.

"Just what the hell are you doing here, screwing up my op?" She demanded.

"YOUR op?" I asked. "Don't you mean MY op?" I replied.

"MY op you shithead." It was so good to hear her call me that again. Just like old times.

"I'm on an op assigned by the Clarksburg Bureau chief herself." I retorted. "If there was another op going on, I'm pretty sure she would have known about it and briefed me. No other FBI ops are going on here!" I said, falling back into FBI agent mode.

"Yeah, well, I don't work for the FBI shithead. I work for the CIA." She stated matter of factly while throwing her shoulder bag on the bed.

"What the hell?" Not the most brilliant response but the it's the only response I could think of at the time.

"So you think I 'took a trip' just to leave the FBI and sit on a beach somewhere? Hell no. I left the FBI and had my records cleansed to go on this op as a CIA assignment. The 'Clarksburg Bureau chief herself', wasn't read into this one." She explained.

"So the shady characters that I'm here to observe ... you're one of them? CIA doesn't have jurisdiction inside the US." I asked and asserted.

"I already had an in with this mob boss from a covert operation I handled back in 2007. I was chosen to follow through with this one since I already had street creds. I've infiltrated a group of international arms dealers that are laundering cash through small time drug king pins in cities like this. They're piecing up the cash and moving it around to fly under the radar of the CIA.

The local boys are getting uncomfortable with this thing getting out of hand. Dealing a few drugs and covering some protection money is one thing. But letting international arms dealers come into their town, taking over their business put the fear of God in them. The mob called us. We're after the international targets, not a small time boss in Milwaukee. I assumed somewhere along the way I'd find a suspicious FBI agent but I never imagined it would be you." She said as her voice tailed off.

When she turned her back on me and drove off with her new husband that she forgot to mention to me, my world ended. From that moment, my whole life had been falling apart. My work suffered, the potential of happiness with Jessica was always dampened, and I felt incomplete.

"You didn't trust me enough to tell me that you were leaving. I meant that little to you?" I demanded answers. Deep down inside, I thought I deserved them. But Billie wasn't answering. She wouldn't even look me in the eye.

"So you disappeared for this? And your husband?" I barely could say the word husband. It stuck in my throat like phlegm. "What's he got to say about you going up against a drug cartel?" I mockingly threw out. Deep down inside I was bringing up her husband to get back at her, to throw it in her face that she had left me.

"I didn't marry him. God, you are a bit slow aren't you?" She said with tone of frustration. "He was my fuckin' cover. He's my handler you ass hole!" She barked back.

"This whole time it was an act?" I asked with an admitted shock in my voice.

Suddenly the confident, swagger walking, FBI agent seemed morose as she paced back and forth. She broke every rule of an undercover agent and professional liar. She wouldn't look at me, her movements all indicated total honesty, and her voice seemed to crack at times.

"After you took off for your long op and then finally wandered back into my life in Pittsburgh, I was already committed. I was committed to the CIA. The plan was already in the works. We were just waiting for the right timing. They had this fake marriage thing all lined up. They had given me the timeline for my extraction from the FBI. There was this deadline that would only work if I left that day. It included the cleansing of my records and coincided with all the IDs, dates, records, you name it; of my new legend." She seemed to ramble as she spoke, pacing and gripping her forehead.

She stopped the side to side pace and looked me in the eye. "When you showed up before the Pittsburgh op, it caused a complication. But it turned out that you're return actually helped me disappear. It made it look like I left the FBI because I was now married and didn't want to have to face an old lover every day." Her voice was softening as she explained her transition.

"What you're telling me is that ..." I started somewhat stunned at her story.

"It's all a freakin' legend, Max." Billie sat down slowly and a bit tearfully on the edge of the bed before looking away toward the window. It was then that I realized the whole picture. She didn't leave me. She was following orders. I left her by running into the arms of Jessica after the Pittsburgh action.

I sat down next to her. The room became awkwardly quiet as we both tried to wrap our minds around our new reality.

"Max, I didn't want us to end the way we did." She began still looking away from me as tears formed in her eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you. But when you were gone, I thought it was for good, so I said yes to this whole thing."

"Billie, I don't know what to say." I started to put my arm around her but thought better of it.

"Yeah. I get it." She straightened before speaking in a more resolute tone. "You came back and wanted us to be together again. I was already living a fake life as a married woman. So you choose Jessica instead. Guess I deserve it... you didn't wait around and hope I'd change my mind." She paused, then spoke quietly now. "If it means anything to you, I didn't want to leave you. If I had it my way, we'd still be together screwing up operations because we're too busy screwing around in the hotel room." She laughed to herself recalling our biggest snafu of our careers.

"Billie, " I started to speak but she interrupted and started to stand.

"I just hope you're happy with Jessica." She said resolutely, wiping a tear from her cheek.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. "Don't leave like this."
She fell back down to her seat and leaned into me. Her head fell against my chest as we embraced. I lifted her face and tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

"Billie, don't shut me out." I said quietly pressing my face to her hair. The feel of her short cropped hair in my hands, the scent of her perfume, brought back a flood of memories of the only woman that I truly loved in my entire life.

"Jessica." She whispered in a definitive tone. "I can't do this knowing you've moved on."

I pulled back a bit as well to look her in the eye. "Jessica is who I'm with because I can't have you. We came together out of the fire of a crisis in her life when she found out her husband was a sex trafficker. It's not love." I stated firmly.

"But you're..." Billie interjected.

"Jessica has a whole international company to run now with advisors and lawyers surrounding her. Now that her husband is behind bars and time has passed, well... it's just that... " I couldn't explain it any better but I tried anyway. "We're not in love. We just enjoyed each other when we were both hurting. I was broken when I thought I had lost you. When I found out you were married my whole life turned into a tailspin so I turned to her. She was crushed to find out about her husband so she turned to me. That's not love. That's convenience."

We sat there staring into each other's eyes trying to read expressions and intent. That's not always easy for two people professionally trained in how to hide emotions, expressions, and any indicator of an underlying truth. But after a few moments, we both broke.

I gripped the back of her head and drew her to me knowing that if I didn't I might miss any opportunity to be with the one person I truly loved. I was truly in love with her and had been for years. Not just the physical feeling of letting go of pent up sexual repression by a quick fuck. It's not the clingy, scarred emotional need to have someone to fill some psycho void. There was something deeper, almost spiritual about our relationship.

When I'm with Billie I'm at peace even in the middle of an FBI op. It's like we were connected; in sync with our thoughts, feelings, emotions and desires. More than just finishing my sentences for me, she completed 'ME'. Without her, well. Just look at the mess I was making with my life.

It wasn't about the sex either. Yeah, I've been with women while in legend that were pretty good in the sack. I certainly won't lie about how Jessica felt in my arms. Even my little fling with Megan just the night before was certainly enjoyable. But there was always something missing. Something undefinable yet so easily understood.

The taste of Billie's salty lips struck mine, her earlier tears still fresh on her skin and in her mouth. She quickly reciprocated as her arms wrapped around my bare back and pulled me to her.

She fell backward onto the bed and I followed obediently, never breaking our embrace or even our kiss. My hands made a mess of her hair as we groped like senior high students following the prom.

As we kissed she ran her fingers down my chest, her nails tingling my skin with excitement.

Shoving me over onto my back, she climbed on top while stripping off her coat and throwing in on the second bed still covered in my suitcase and clothes. She squirmed and moved on my hips while we both fumbled at her shirt. I wadded it up and threw it against the wall as she tugged at her bra.

Knowing now how we both felt about each other released a tidal wave of passion leaving in our wake a pile of scattered clothes.

As her bra fell away, her breasts hung heavy and full in front of me. God how I've missed the girls. I didn't waste a moment before taking her right nipple in my mouth as she leaned forward over me.

Her hands pressed against my shoulders into the bed. The sensation was wonderful as she began to ride me hard. Pent up emotional and sexual tension burst like a fractured dam.

She reached around and grabbed her skirt, tugging it up around her until my growing erection felt the warm wetness of her dampened panties. I groaned for a moment when she was grinding her sweetness into me and it pressed the button of my boxers harshly against my cock.

I tugged the side of my shorts, getting the button off the ridge of my erection. She didn't miss a stroke as she shuttered with her first mild orgasm and fell into my arms.

She was more emotional than I had ever known her as she rapidly achieved an orgasm. She cried out, "Oh dear God I needed that." But one initial climax wasn't enough to satisfy the year and a half of separation we had endured.

Quickly scrambling down my body, she grabbed the sides of my boxers and ripped them from my body. When they got caught on my left foot she about tore them off before attacking my cock.

She gripped it firmly in one hand, my balls in the other, before devouring me. With each deep thrust into her mouth, she massaged my balls and pointed my cock where she wanted it with her other hand. She ate at me as if she hadn't been with a man in years. 'God almighty,' I thought to myself, 'had she been alone all this time? All this time when I was playing with Jessica and screwing every woman I could while in legend, was Billie lonely and waiting?' I didn't want to think about it right now. I just wanted to enjoy the moment.

I could feel my body throb with excitement, almost as if my blood pressure was shifting and I could hear my heartbeat through the veins of my neck and ears. I was still a bit pent up from the earlier confession of a certain real estate agent. But I'd take this over self-abuse in a confessional booth any day.

Almost like she knew I was primed and ready, she climbed up again and my now naked body felt the wetness of her panties against my flesh.

With one hand square on my chest and one hand digging between us, she tugged her panties to the side and in one wet, smooth, motion she dropped her full weight down on my hips impaling herself with my cock.

My mouth gasped for air as her weight shifted from her hips to the hand square on my chest. Using it as leverage she lifted up and dropped down on me again with a wicked grin on her face.

She fell forward into my arms and put her mouth next to my ear. She nibbled for a moment before saying, "Don't you dare cum yet. I'm far from finished."

God was she right. We used every solid surface and every piece of furniture in the room before we were done. Of course I'm still trying to figure out where she learned that move with her knees spread, one on each of the beds while resting her weight on her hands that were on the floor. But the sheer pleasure of kneeling down and orally pleasing her in that position makes it almost not worth asking.

Two hours later she was taking her traditional, scalding hot shower as I turned on the local tv channel and dropped back into the bed exhausted. The steam rolled out of the bathroom. I smirked at the thought that this is why we've never made love in the shower. Her back problems from an undercover op years ago made her truly enjoy deep massages, hard fucks, and showers with water hot enough to boil eggs.

That's when a breaking news logo flashed across the television screen. I turned the volume up as video began playing of a black SUV, riddled with bullet holes and crashed into the edge of a local stream was pictured. It looked a lot like the SUV I had seen earlier when I first saw Billie.

"Rosebud! You've got to see this... Hurry." I shouted at the bathroom.

A moment later Billie came out stark naked and dripping wet, shaking her hair dry with a towel. "What's so important that...?" She started before seeing the screen.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck...we're all fucked." She muttered as she began dressing quickly.

"Is that who I think it is?" I blurted out. Billie didn't answer at first. I turned to see that she was already nearly dressed and was rushing back to the bathroom to comb out her hair.

"Yeah, it's Christopher," She grunted from the bathroom. "Or maybe I should say it was Christopher."

"Fill me in." I shot back.

"No time. I'll explain on the way." She barked came charging back into the bedroom.

"On the way?" I quarried.

Billie grabbed her coat and reached inside. She pulled out a Kimber Ultra Carry 45 and checked the chamber before putting it back in her coat and wrapping it over her shoulders.

"Get the lead out shithead. We've got work to do." She demanded.

I hesitated for a movement.

"NOW!" She barked. I jumped.

Seconds later I was dressed and we were heading out the door. I still smelled like someone who had recently been relentlessly fucked. The bodily fluids of my lover had dried on my cheeks, causing my face to feel a bit tight. I only noticed the odor when the elevator doors closed and we were in the confined space.

"Smells good on you," She smirked at me just before the doors opened into the lobby.





3 - Can't risk it!

Christopher was a CIA deep cover plant who was prepared to come in. He was collecting final evidence to take back to Fairfax, Virginia, meeting up with Billie to receive any documentation she had as well. The hit on Christopher could only mean that someone had blown a cover. I hoped to god it wasn't something I had done by chasing after Billie in the parking lot.

Billie raced her BMW M4, weaving through traffic at speeds that only local police normally get away with. Her polished gray convertible was a part of her cover but it made for a pretty conspicuous vehicle for covert actions. So we had to improvise.

Nobody on the inside knew me. I was a faceless priest for a few days and clearly dressed differently now. I knew I certainly smelled differently at the moment. But in street clothes, it was our safest path to follow.

Billie ditched me a block from the crime scene and darted down an alleyway in another direction. She, on the other hand, couldn't be seen anywhere near this crime scene. I picked up the pace on foot and headed to the crash site to see what I could find out.

Coming into the crowd near the site, I worked my way to the corner and up to the police tape holding back the onlookers. Most were starting to wander off since the ambulance was already pulling out. Nothing left to see but a crashed car.

"Officer," I called in a firm whisper.

"Stand back sir. We've got everything under control." He professionally moved down the line toward me.

I pulled my windbreaker back exposing my FBI badge at the hip. "Don't react. Just talk to me as if I'm a gawker.

The officer glanced at the badge, letting it sink into his brain before taking a step closer. "You here to take over?" He inquired turning around toward the crash site.

"Not a chance. Just play it calm. Someone might be watching." I said.

Without missing a beat he turned and came right over to me. He began addressing me, waving his arms as if he was telling me to stay back. But his words didn't match his motions. "What's the FBI interest here?"

"Joint op with the CIA. The DB you just pulled from that SUV is probably a CIA undercover agent." I said.

"Figured as much. This was a professional hit. Absolutely not a local drive by or a gang banger. That's about all I can tell you without going though proper channels." He said trying to keep his focus on the job.

"What tips it as a hit?" I inquired.

"The holes in the vehicle and the crash are all window dressing. The guy had a double tap from a smaller caliber gun to the back of the head." He explained.


"He was dead before he got here," I stated dryly.

"Black leather satchel with documents? Any signs of it in the vehicle?" I asked.

"Nope. The whole thing was wiped clean. Not even a french fry under the seat." He replied, speaking with his hand balled to his mouth and acting like he was coughing.

"Last question. Lead officer's name? Who do I call for follow up?" I asked.

"Mike, Mike Berlinski," He stated almost nonchalantly turning back to the task of walking the line.

By the time he glanced back, I was already gone. But I had the basics covered. It was as Billie feared. Christopher was out of the picture and the info he was carrying was in the open. If a competing mob boss or the arms dealers had the info, we're screwed. It would certainly have something in it that would lead them back to Billie.





Billie drove me to the place she was using during the operation. Sweet digs. Nothing like an FBI operation. But then again she was a CIA agent who was invited by local mobsters to help them settle back into their normal balance of evil power. The local boys were treating her right; a luxury condo with a deck overlooking the great lake. Not bad for a white girl from Virginia.

After putting the beamer away I took a cab back to my hotel to get my things. I was planning on moving into the condo with Billie. The fear of someone seeing us together was outweighed by my need to be close by. I'm not the type of undercover agent who has seen a lot of gunplay but like all agents, I was trained. If our info was out in the open we could be a target.

Heading up the elevator at my hotel I could still smell the faint odor of our earlier encounter. So I decided to take a quick shower and change before leaving for the condo.

The hot water cascaded over my shoulders as I backed into the water's flow. My mind raced with thoughts of Billie, causing me a flush of fulfillment knowing that we might just work things out and be able to move on; this time together. Maybe if we could get past this operation we could both retire and take that long needed "trip."

The warmth and the thoughts of Billie caused my manhood to twitch a little. The genuinely wonderful feeling of a semi-erect man part in warm water is something that most guys would grudgingly admit to. Even better with a nice handful of soap.

Just then, I heard movement in the hotel room. My heart stopped. Calmly I slid my hand out the side of the shower curtain to the counter top. My fingers found the bath towel where I had placed my Sig 9mm. Slipping my hand in between the folds of the towel I felt the cold steel hiding in the middle.

I froze when I heard a voice call out from the bedroom.

"Don't take too long. You'll wrinkle up and I'll have to work really hard to get things to tighten up." A smirking voice called out.

Good God almighty, it was Megan! Yeah. It was 6 pm and we were planning for a little after work recreation again and she still had a key card to the room. I quickly covered my Sig with the towel and patted it before shutting down the shower and stepping out.

By the time I entered the bedroom, Megan was already prepared!

As I headed into the bedroom I could see movement in the mirror that stood erect along the hallway. What I saw was glorious. Megan was sitting with her back against the headboard with all the pillows propped up around her. The sexual throne she had created was made even more lovely by her tanned body that was completely bare. Her knees were together with her legs pulled up in her sitting position.

Her eyes grabbed mine and I could see the wicked look that only Megan can pull off that peeked over her knees at me. I entered the bedroom and stood at the end of the bed wearing only the towel I had used to dry off from my shower. Standing there, clenching my towel around my waist I just took in the view.

"It's my turn to be in charge, right?" She said in her slightly husky, mature voice. A momentary flashback to the first time I saw "The Graduate" shot through my brain. Then the reality that I wished I was as young as Hoffman was at that time. You see, I had already bedded Billie today. Thoughts of Billie combined with a spent pair of balls would certainly cause this to be awkward.

"As I recall it's two to one in my favor. So I guess you're running the show today." I said, hoping my body would cooperate.

"Ohh.. I'll take that as a challenge." She replied in a smoky voice.

She remained seated in her throne and took the role of master pretty easily. Slowly she spread her knees open without losing eye contact with me. She was completely naked.... Completely! Clean shaven to an utterly bare exposure. Her feet drew apart creating space between her legs as the sheets fell away.

Megan was in her early to mid-50s but this is a woman who knew how to keep her body in shape. The muscles of her legs stretched and arched, creating a pathway to her core.

"Drop the towel," She demanded in a slightly authoritative voice.

I complied. The white terrycloth fell to the floor as my moist body from the shower felt the cool air of the room. The cold flush caused a stirring, tingling sensation. I started to move forward by raising my knee to crawl onto the bed.

"STOP!"' she all but shouted. "Who's in charge?" She said sarcastically.

"You are my dear." I said calmly and returned to where I was standing.

She enjoyed the game. In legend I had survived true bondage and sadomasochistic domination. So her mild, playful control wasn't too difficult. I just played along.

Megan's attention was turned to my cock. From her throne she gazed at my manhood with a hunger in her eyes that was enticing. She slid a hand between her legs and began pleasuring herself. Her other hand shifted slightly as she cupped her breast, using her thumb to graze her nipple.

It felt like forever as I stood there on display for her. But she broke the silence as her head fell back against the headboard. The pleasure of her own fingers started to relax her. Her mouth fell open and her eyes shuttered a bit.

"Come here between my legs. I need your tongue." She said breathily.

What guy could resist that offer. I crawled up between her legs and bowed at her throne. The moment my mouth touched the clean shaven pelvic ridge of her body, her hips raised involuntarily to meet me.

God she was sweet. Her labia had been freshly cleaned and were now just beginning to moisten. I closed my lips so that only the tip of my tongue protruded and pressed my lips against her clit. My face felt the smooth, clean feeling of her skin against my cheeks as the tip of my tongue searched for her clitoris.

Within moments she was raising and lowering her hips in rhythm with my tongue as her protruding button rubbed back and forth across the tip of my tongue. She moaned with delight as we worked together for her benefit. Her hands now were gripping both her breasts one squeezing to the point that her nipple stood erect, the other cupping and gently massaging herself.

I slid my hands between her legs and began gently fingering her as I continued probing her clit. My fingers found her to be completely wet.

There are things about an older woman that are sheer pleasure. Experience and talent of course should be mentioned as the primary advantage. But women of Megan's age seem to be able to climax more often and enjoy themselves more freely during sexual encounters. Megan was a prime example.

My hands slid up to grip her thighs, close to her mounds. As I tongued her clit, I used just the tip of both thumbs to slowly penetrate her. She bucked her hips into my face several times at the sensation as a warm orgasm swept over her. Her body locked up and only her hips were moving as she groaned.

The startling sensation of her hand grabbing the back of my head and forcing me into her was wonderful. I've always enjoyed a woman who isn't afraid to tell me what she wants... hell, even demand it.

A warm wet wave could be felt across my chin and hands. Not the outlandish porn video squirting, but the reassurance that I had struck the spot that Megan needed to achieve her goal.

She released my head but I didn't release her. My thumbs pressed in more deeply. Thumbnail pressed against thumbnail so that my fingerprint could feel the smooth, silky lining of her flesh. Megan gave a gentle sigh as I pressed in more deeply.
I opened my mouth and let my tongue take a long lavishing lick. It pressed between my thumbs and toyed with her opening before licking, flat-tongued all the way up her opening to the very tip of her clitoral hood.

But I didn't stop. I ran my tongue up across her pelvic mound, I toyed with her belly button, then licked my way up between her breasts. At this point, the head of my cock was touching my thumbs, begging them to let him in.

She pouted for a moment as my thumbs slid away and I crawled my body over hers. She pushed the pillows to one side and shifted lower in the bed. That's when my cock struck gold.

The feeling of her wetness wrapping around my cock was so sensual. It was also relieving. I actually had a full on erection. My fear of being spent was outweighed by the warm touch of this woman.

By now I couldn't stop myself if I had to. Billie was pressed into a small corner of my brain that must have had an iron door with a deadbolt. It might have been sound proofed too.

I plunged into her and felt the amazing warmth of her body. She raised her legs and wrapped them around my hips as I penetrated her. Her hands gripped my back and squeezed as I thrusted, over and over into her warm accepting body.

She squealed with delight as each thrust all but forced air out of her body. I could feel her breasts shake against my chest so I gripped her right one as I kept fucking her.

The sensation that triggers an orgasm flooded over me, I knew what could put me over the edge. I drew my face to hers and began kissing her deeply. Her hand gripped the back of my head as we shared the moment. The taste of her orgasm on my lips along with the feeling of her tongue in my mouth caused me to arch into her with a final thrust, releasing my cum deep inside her.

Moments later our spent, sweaty bodies lay side by side. The sheets were tossed to one side and we lay there panting and hot.

Megan began to laugh quietly to herself. "God you're a blast," She said. But the way she said it sparked something in me. It was almost like an adult telling a child that playing catch was fun but now it's over. I was a great diversion; but that's all.

I'm okay with that. Hell, I'm just on the brink of getting my act together. I hoped that Billie and I could finally, once and for all, get ourselves in sync.

In the quietness that followed, Megan started crying.

'God, what now?' I thought to myself as the mood shifted from playful sex toy to mournful woman.

I combed through her hair with my fingers as she pulled onto her side facing away from me.

"Hey. What gives?" I asked as I cuddled up behind her.

"You wouldn't understand," She whispered.

I could feel her body shiver a bit which seemed strange considering we were warm from recent activities. "Try me. They say I'm a good listener." I whispered in her ear.

"Yeah. That's part of it actually. My husband is a very evil person. I truly don't like what he's involved in and yet I don't see a way out short of him getting shot dead in the streets." She whispered.

"Wow. So you're a part of the 'families' that are using the church as a meeting site?" I probed.

"Of course." She mournfully admitted. "So what do I do, I go and toy around with a priest I met there. Maybe to get his attention or maybe to see if there was a way out of this mess." She continued.

"Okay, I have a confession. I'm not really a priest." I said as I fell back away from her.

She rolled over and nestled in between my arm and ribs. Her head fell on my chest. As she spoke, I could feel her breath against my skin. "I know that already."

I was a bit shocked and I raised my head to look down at her. She glanced up at me as if to say, 'what do you think I am, an idiot?'

"I've known for several weeks," She said calmly. "But you're a good fuck and great entertainment."

She paused for a long time. God, had my full cover been blown? Did her husband know too much? Maybe he would be going after Billie and me now. But my fears were belayed by her next words. "Don't worry hon. I think it's kinda fun that you were imitating a priest to get laid. That's what attracted me to you."

We rested there in silence for a long while.

"Megan. You said you'd only be free if your husband was killed in the streets." I said probing.

"Yeah, but that isn't going to happen. He has body guards that are with him all the time. He's truly evil. I heard him order one of his guards to kill someone. It was some acquaintance he was working with that may have been leaking information to another family or to the feds." She explained.

"You heard him order the hit? Was the guy named Christopher?" I asked.

"He didn't say a name. Just told him to go kill the rat and make it look like a drive by shooting." She replied.

"I can't kill him. But what if I could get the feds to arrest him for ordering the hit?" I asked blatantly.

"There's not enough dirt on him. Any good lawyer will get him out of it. It's only my word against his." She said wistfully.

"So we get additional evidence," I replied frankly.

Megan sat up and looked at me intently. "You can do that?" There was hopefulness in her voice that melted me. Maybe we could help her out of this situation and resolve our surveillance problem too. And maybe, just maybe, we could put the person who killed Christopher behind bars.





4 - This Could Work

"This could work!" I said confidently.

"Only in your dreams." Billie retorted back. "Only if you find a place to get them alone, and only if you can get Megan to wear a wire, and only if he doesn't find the wire on Megan, and only if you can lure him there, and only if Megan can get him to say out loud that his boss the kingpin put the order out. That's a freakin' lot of ifs."

"But she can do this. She wants out." I said, still confident of my plan.

"Max. You run these things by the seat of your pants and don't even know your pants are on fire." Billie shot back.

"Well I know my pants are on fire, but that's because of last night," I said pulling her up against me and doing a highly exaggerated humping motion against her hip.

Billie shoved me back and closed the door to her condo. "Stop that. It's 10 am and we've got work to do." Billie protested.

We were hauling my luggage and a few boxes of background evidence into her condo. I hadn't realized how much stuff I had collected along the way during the surveillance at the church. There were hard drives full of digital video, recording equipment, an 8x10 photo printer, a Nikon D800 with an 800mm lens, and reference folders that I had brought from Clarksburg. I had added to that collection, photo prints and notes from my surveillance.

Billie began digging through the files and photos to flesh out what she knew of the situation from the CIA side. My boss at Clarksburg had already, grudgingly, given her approval to release my findings to the CIA. Although my current FBI director had never met Billie, I could tell that she was pissed to find out that a former FBI agent from our office was now a CIA hack.

But my boss had to be okay with this. She didn't have a choice. Breaking up the mob family was within the authority of the FBI. The only reason the CIA was involved was the arms dealer angle. Of course they also had a vested interest in the success of the joint operation since one of their own had been killed while undercover.



Billie seemed engrossed by the mound of information I had collected. I, on the other hand, set my mind to more important tasks. After living in hotel rooms for nearly a month, I was finally in a condo with a reasonably capable coffee maker. More importantly, in the cabinet I found a coffee press. I was grinding freshly roasted beans when I hear Bille mumble.

"There's the key," She said almost under her breath.

After pouring hot water over the precious grinds in the coffee press, I let it rest for a moment. "What's the key?" I called into the living room.

"This photo," She replied a bit more clearly.

Finishing the coffee, I took a cup for each of us into the living room where Billie was arranging photos on the coffee table.

"Wow," I said as it was sinking in to my understanding. Up until the day I saw Billie in the parking lot, I didn't know the other players in the family. So I only had a limited understanding of what I had captured on camera.


There in slightly glossy evidence was an image of someone following Christopher. "They were on to him. Looks like they put a tail on him... from the date on this pic it was two days before he was killed." Bille said somberly.

"So did you pass anything off to him, or meet him, or anything?" I quizzed.

"No. When I passed off the satchel in the parking lot, it was the first time I had even seen Christopher in nearly a month. So I think I'm safe." She said, without stopping her scan of the photos.

"See this guy here?" Billie pointed to another photo of a man seated in the rear of the sanctuary that I took just a few days before seeing her. A lot had happened that week; getting fired by the FBI, getting rehired by the FBI, and getting laid twice in one day, not to mention finding out that Billie was not married and not on 'a trip'.

"That's 'Johnny Bal' Balistrieri, Frank Balistrieri's son. Johnny Bal served as a lawyer until 1984, when he was suspended and later disbarred. He tried to get his law license back but was rejected by the Wisconsin Supreme Court in August, 2014."

"What's the significance of him being there?" I asked, trying to put the pieces together.

"Johnny Bal doesn't go out in the field for every day stuff. He's "Pitch" Picciurro's consigliere. A consigliere doesn't do regular foot work. He's an advisor to Pitch Picciurro. The kind of advisor that is behind the scenes, knows what's going on, and can represent the boss in critical negotiations should the boss direct."

"So...." I led, asking for more.

"That means this meeting was important enough that the consigliere himself was in the room. It's a protection for the boss to distance himself from a meeting in case something went wrong." She finished.

"So Picciurro is the boss. Megan's last name is Picciurro. Any chance there's a connection?" I said somewhat confused.

"Picciurro!" Billie shouted back dropping into the couch behind her. "You're telling me that you've been fucking the mob boss's wife?!"

Suddenly the weight of what Billie concluded, sank in. Megan wasn't just any family member's wife. She was the mob boss himself's wife. I was an undercover FBI agent, having some fun while in legend, and sleeping with the mob boss's wife. That's when I fell back into the couch with Billie.

We sat somewhat stunned for a moment.

"What are our chances of surviving this?" I asked somberly.

"We have two possible results," She said softly. "Do it or run for cover."

"Well that's better than I thought. I'm just glad you didn't say Slim or None." I said trying to laugh.

"We can call it in and bug out if you think it's our safest direction," She said leaning her head to look at me.

"You should get out of town and go back into hiding," I said somewhat firmly. "I'm gonna stay and nail this guy."

"By nailing his wife?" She said with a less than amused attitude.

"Look, the FBI has tried to take the top dog of several families to no avail. Now you have international arms dealers doing business with one of the bosses and maybe other bosses in other cities. This could shut down the entire family in Milwaukee. I have to try this." I said confidently.

"You're still as stubborn as you always were," Billie said rolling her head back and looking at the ceiling.

"Yep. I know." I got up and grabbed my cell phone.

"Who are you calling?" Billie asked without turning to me.

"I need to call a realtor about buying a house," I said.







5 - House Viewing

Parked in front of the gray, three story, frame home at on W Reservoir Ave. Not exactly what I'd pick for myself but the only criteria that I had was who the realtor was. Nikki Scott pulled up in her pearl white Tahoe and gathered her things before heading into the residence.

Her brown flowing hair and mid-thirties vitality seemed out of place with the straight laced business suit she was wearing. The pleated skirt and matching jacket seemed a bit formal. But then again the house was at the higher end of the current market. She probably thought she was meeting an upscale home buyer and wanted to make a good impression.

I got out of my car from across the street, dodging a car that passed by before heading up the walkway. The front door was still open and Nikki was trying to put the house key back into the security box on the doorknob.

"Let me help," I said, grabbing the doorknob. I was able to steady the door as she got the key back in place. But as she locked it in the box, she dropped the folder full of materials she had been gripping to her chest.

I bent down to help her pick them up as she squatted down too. Her attractive legs were revealed as her skirt inched upward along her thighs. I didn't miss the opportunity of getting a good view of them. Nikki was nothing like the woman I imagined who from behind the screen of a confessional booth had told me a story just a few days earlier.

Maybe the suit was for another showing yet today with her home buying friend.

She stood and reached out her hand. "Thanks. Hi. I'm Nikki Scott."

"Andrew. Andrew Martin." I said without missing a beat.

"Pleased to meet you, .. er. .. do you prefer Mr. Martin .. . or" She fumbled.

"Andrew, please. No formalities here." I said as we entered the house and closed the door.

Nikki led the way through the entry hall and started into her sales pitch. The neutral colors, ample closet space, quiet neighborhood, and updated kitchen were pointed out before we got to the living room. Sales clichés flowed one to another for the next few minutes as I followed her. The sway of her hips was hypnotic. She moved gracefully and with ease, offering me the occasional impish grin of someone who really enjoyed their work.

But I couldn't lead her on for long. It just wasn't fair.

"Nikki. I know what you did with one of your clients at a viewing last week." I thought I'd get straight to the point.

She stopped cold in her tracks and turned to me. "Wha... whatever do you mean?" She asked. But she wasn't nearly as good at being a liar as I was. It was clear that I had the right person. I had only guessed from some records at the church that this was the person who had confessed to me of carnal recreation during a viewing.

"Let's cut to the chase. I know about Mike and the little affair." I said, sitting down on the couch.

Nikki stepped over in front of me and sat down on the edge of the end table next to a wingback chair. "Mike told you? He sent you here?" She asked almost as if she had been found out.

"No. I was the one in the confessional booth." I admitted.

Her reaction was priceless. She was flush at first but quickly turned red with embarrassment. "Oh God. You're going to tell my husband." She panicked. "I heard there was someone impersonating a priest at the church. Oh God, I told you everything and now you're going to tell my husband."

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm not going to tell anyone." I said trying to calm her down. She seemed to be calmed by the thought that her secret was safe with me. As she started breathing more quietly again, I continued. "I need your help."

"Oh." She said quietly. She sat for a moment on the edge of the table before standing up. She took a deep breath and started to unbutton her blouse. "I guess if that's what it takes to keep you quiet."

"NO, NO," I said, standing up and stopping her. "That's not what I meant either."


She seemed genuinely confused. So I pulled out FBI ID and badge. She started to slump and I caught her and helped her into the wingback chair. "I'm gonna lose my job then." She started to cry.

"Would you just relax already. I'm not telling your husband, I'm not blackmailing you into sex, and I have no interest in telling your agency that you enjoy the occasional romp with a client."

She dug through her purse and pulled out a decorative hanky and slowly dried her eyes. "What do you want then?"

"We need a house to use for a sting operation. We need it to be someplace that the owners won't mind us using and that they've pretty much vacated already. We need it to be so off the record that no one at your office even knows it's being used." I said. "You can tell them that I didn't like this house and that you're showing me another one. Probably on Thursday."

"A sting? Like a setup of a bad guy?" She said quirking her face as if trying to understand.

"Yes. Look, maybe it is blackmail, but I thought maybe you could help us by finding a place. And of course I'd keep quiet even if you didn't help. But I thought you might be someone I could trust. You obviously though I was someone you could trust with your confession."

"Is that all? Just a place to pull off a sting." She said in a much calmer voice. "There is the Maxwell place. It's been vacant now for six weeks. They moved to Canada." She said, almost talking herself.

"That's all. Just a place for a meet up." I offered to close the deal.

"Well that's a relief. If my husband found out,.. you know." She rambled. "And I really love my job. So can we leave them out of it."

I nodded in agreement. She seemed a good bit calmer. Then she looked me over and gently bit her lower lip before speaking again.

"I'll do this on one condition," She said resolutely, sitting up straighter.

"What's that?" I asked sitting back down on the couch across the coffee table from her. "Name it."

"We go back and do that second one," She said standing up and putting her handbag on the chair where she had been sitting.

"Second one what?" I asked.

She began walking toward me, sidestepping the coffee table. "You're the naughty FBI agent who knows way too much about my affair. Now you're blackmailing me for sex." She said as she began unbuttoning her blouse again.

My eyes widened as she tugged her jacket off and tossed it over her handbag on the chair.

"Please Mr. FBI agent, don't tell my husband. I'll do anything you want if you just don't tell him." She said. She was suddenly speaking in a phony 1930s Betty Boop voice.

"Look, Nikki, you have the wrong idea about this. I'm only here for your help in catching a criminal," I said repeating my objection. "I didn't come to take advantage of you."

"But you came to teach me a lesson cause I was a really bad girl," She said, still in character. With that her blouse fell off her shoulders and she reached for the button at the waist of her skirt.

Within seconds the skirt fell too, revealing thigh high stockings and the thinnest G string panties I've ever seen anyone actually wear. The fair skin that peaked through around her thighs and hips was starkly white against the darker tones of her nylons.

I finally realized that she was serious about this. It was her thing. She wanted to initiate sexual experiences with her clients while viewing homes.

"What?" She squeaked. "Okay. You're right. I've been soooo bad that I deserve a spanking."

She maneuvered herself between me and the coffee table before turning around causing her shapely ass to be right at face level. Then she bent over and put her hands flat on the coffee table in front of her.

"Be gentle please. I'm just so sorry for being bad. I know I deserve this." She pleaded as she twitched her raised ass in the air.

If one finds themselves in a situation where a woman is begging to be spanked on a love, bare ass, covered only with a G String, you can be one of two types of guys. You can be the kind of guy who gives in to primal desires and takes advantage of the woman. Or you can be the kind of guy with character and leave as quickly as possible.
Fortunately that second guy wasn't there.

I stood up and stepped to one side where I could see her face. "On one condition," I said firmly.

She looked over sideways at me with a mildly confused look. "What?" she said back in her normal voice.

"Your husband doesn't know about Mike. AND ... My girlfriend doesn't ever hear about this." I said demandingly.

"Agreed." She said still in her normal voice. Then changing back into character, "But you might need to take my bra and panties off first. I might wet myself if you spank me too hard."

Her arched back from her bent over position made it easy to unhook her bra that fell down her arms and rested over her hands on the coffee table. I then tugged at the string of her panties. She aided me by taking a step outward with each foot. The G string was all but stuck between her ass cheeks so I tugged gently until I got them to her knees.

She raised the foot closest to me, letting me get her panties all the way off and down to her other ankle.

"I'm ready for my punishment," She said in her fake voice.

So I administered punishment. She clenched her ass cheeks as each slap struck home. I remained in a role play frame of mind, knowing that this was just fantasy. So my spanking was hard enough to spark a slapping sound in the room but not hard enough to truly hurt.

I went on with the spanking, enjoying the feel of her soft flesh as my hand struck. Occasionally I groped and squeezed her ass following a slap. Once I slid my fingers between her ass cheeks and down between her legs.

With each stroke she shivered. Her breasts hung freely over the coffee table and were simply adorable to watch sway as she took each stroke.

When I thought she had enough to be satisfied with the role play, I walked to the front of the coffee table to see her face. I took her by the chin and tugged forward toward me. At first she didn't know what I was doing, but soon she caught on. She knelt up on the coffee table and crawled forward until she was naked, on all fours, on the coffee table.

I stepped back and started to undress. She gazed at my waist the whole time. My shirt came off. My shoes and socks. Then as I unbuckled my belt I could see the anticipation in her eyes. She truly loved this. I took off my pants and stood there in my boxers for a moment.

I awkwardly became aware of the fact that the living room window curtains were pulled completely back and anyone who would want to stop and look inside would probably get an amazing show. It only captured my attention because the backlighting of her body, kneeling on the table was completely wonderful.

Stepping up next to her I could feel the warmth of her breath striking my cock through the thin cloth of my boxers. The tip of my cock was pressing against the material.

"Take my boxers off with your teeth," I demanded.

A wry smile shot across her face as if she was pleased that I was playing my part. Then she complied. She bit at my left hip, catching the material and tugging downward. Letting go she went to my right hip and repeated the process. After several tugs on each side the only thing holding my boxers up was the fact that my erection was pressing the cloth just inside the waistband.

She bit at the front of the boxers and pulled them toward her, causing my cock to spring free. She let it hang freely in midair, biting at the material again and getting my boxers to drop down my legs.

Tilting her head to one side, she leaned in and sucked right at the base of my cock, letting my meat lay across her cheek. She licked and gorged herself with my balls causing my cock to convulse with delight.

Then in one quick motion she raised her head and took my cock into her mouth so deeply that I thought I would have a stroke. She gave new and never previously imagined definitions of 'deep throat'. If blow jobs were an Olympic event she would be among our nation's finest, off in some training village somewhere preparing for that every four-year event.

There was almost a purring sound she made as she continued to take me in. The vibration of her purr seemed to enhance my erection. I watched as her ass wiggled behind her with each thrust onto my cock. It was like a puppy wagging its tail.

I wanted to discover that tail. So I withdrew my cock from her mouth. I could hear her groan of displeasure that I was moving. But I intended to return the favor. 


Sitting down on the edge of the couch, I had a front row seat to the most beautiful view this house offered. A round, shapely ass and lovely, silky legs covered in nylon. I couldn't help but just sit there and enjoy the gorgeous woman in front of me.

Still, I wanted to taste this body. The sunlight from the front window cast a warm glow on her pussy. She was trimmed to neat and consistent precision. The glow caused her fir to look even more beautiful from my vantage point.

"A little wider please," I said tapping on the inside of her knees. She swiftly obeyed, shifting her knees outward and widening her stance. It caused her lovely mounds to open and her labia to protrude. She certainly was swollen and wanting.

"Down in front." I ordered. She hesitated at first trying to interpret my meaning. But within a moment she lowered the front half of her body. Rather than resting on her hands, she now rested on her knees. Her ass arched high and pushed her pussy out where I could reach her.

'God I love the taste of women.' I thought to myself. My first lick brought a gentle purr from my 'bad girl.' She was wet, ready, and wanting. The musty taste of her sparked something in me that was warm and satisfying. Like eating comfort food, it brought back deep sensations of contentment that felt sorta like eating warm mac and cheese while wrapped in a blanket in front of a fire on a snow day.

I was lost in her as my tongue plunged in and out. Her whole body was rocking forward and back into me with each thrust. I gripped her feet and was massaging them when she suddenly climaxed. Her toes curled and she forcefully pressed her body back onto my tongue.

Breathing became erratic and she quickly left character in her voice. "Stand up and fuck me while I'm still feeling this." She said demandingly.

I stood and began to penetrate her when I stopped. "Do I need a condom?" I asked.

"I'm a bad girl AND a bad catholic. I'm on the pill." She grunted. "Please fuck me."

Who's to argue with a woman who is asking to be fucked?

I plunged into her and was rewarded with a warm, welcoming body that took me in. The groan she made told me everything I needed to know. She wanted it firm and hard. I gripped her hips and started driving into her, over and over again.

Her feet flopped from side to side and occasionally rubbed up against my legs. Her head lifted to gasp for air and groan before dropping again to the table as she took a firm fucking.

Her pelvic bones became my primary gripping point as I forcefully drew her to me with each thrust. The pace quickened until that moment I knew I was going to cum. She sensed it too. With three final, slow, driving thrusts, I stopped. My grip on her hips was aided by her pushing back into me. I felt my cock explode inside her. She could feel each jerk of my cock raise and lower inside her as she wiggled her ass to take me in even deeper.

When my last spasm of joy was over, she pulled away and quickly turned around on all fours. She took my cock in her mouth and cleaned me, licking along each side, then up from my balls.

She looked up at me as she took the head of my cock in her mouth one last time and sucked firmly like she was drinking from a straw. Pulling back my cock left her mouth with a popping sound.

She tucked one hand between her legs, cupping her pussy to avoid dripping and awkwardly waddled off toward a bathroom. Her cute ass made even more adorable her awkward stride; hand between her legs.





After cleaning up the room, which included sanitizing the coffee table, and getting dressed, we sat for a moment on the couch.

She nestled up next to me and put her head on my shoulder. "Okay, how would your girlfriend find out about this?" She asked in softer tone.

"What?" I asked looking down at her.

"You said on one condition, that your girlfriend doesn't find out." She spouted.

It struck me what I had demanded before joining into her little role play. "Well, my partner who you will meet on Thursday is my girlfriend."

She sat up and squeezed my arm. "OOooH. I get to meet my competition." She squealed.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that no matter how much fun our little romp had just been; she would never be able to compete with Billie. You can't beat real love.





6 - Set Up



"Good morning Max," Adrian said as I opened the door. He didn't miss a beat as he hauled two large black, pelican cases past me and into the living room.

Adrian Ross was a part of our team in several earlier operations and performed brilliantly. So I called him in on this one for tech support. He hopped a plane to Milwaukee with the supplies we needed to make this happen.

I started to close the door when two more FBI agents, also lugging equipment pushed through and nodded at me while passing. These agents appeared to be barely out of high school, but I've discovered that these younger agents understand the tech side of surveillance better than any of us.

"Adrian Ross, as I live and breath," Billie said in a phony southern belle accent.

They embraced when Adrian replied, "Billie, good to see you. How's this CIA gig working out for you?"

"Wait! You knew Billie was with the CIA?" I demanded.

Adrian's grin told me everything I needed to know. "You think you're the only one with secrets?" He retorted.

Billie broke in, "Adrian set up my whole vacation from the FBI. He arranged for new IDs, helped flesh out my legend and even suggested that my cover include a fake husband."

I stood for a moment a bit shocked. "You're telling me that you knew even before the Pittsburgh operation?"

"I signed a non-disclosure form from the CIA. They're like, seriously brutal. Makes our FBI non-disclosure seem kinda wimpy." Adrian sarcastically commented as he started unpacking equipment from the black cases.

Internally I wanted to strangle this kid. But even deeper inside, suddenly I had far more respect for him. The boy knew how to do his job and he did what he needed to do. But then he opened his mouth and killed my new found respect for him.

"So it's nearly 9 am. Shouldn't you be off hearing confessions or screwing a mob boss's wife by now?" Adrian shot at me with a look of complete self-satisfaction on his face.

"You worked on that line during the entire flight, didn't you?" I shot back.

"Yeah, pretty much," He replied. "I did learn from the very best, boss!" He grinned and slapped me on the back before going into action. "Okay we're gonna need cameras there, there and over there. Get three vantage points on the front walk, a couple on the front door, and don't forget the kitchen. Single back up camera's in every other room just in case they wander." He shouted to the other agents while pointing to locations in the home.

With each moment, my opinion of Adrian deepened. He had grown from a young, mousy newbie to a confident and capable FBI agent during the short time I had known him. Now he was confidently ordering tech geeks into position for an operation. He was bantering with senior agents, giving back as much as he had been given. And he maintained confidential information concerning Billie even knowing how it was effecting his lead agent in the group.

For a moment as I watched him, I realized that not all the people in my life were disposable. Maybe my self-criticism of how I had used up people like they were replaceable, was as true as I had feared. Maybe, just maybe my self-loathing in recent days was being redeemed. I watched him order the troops and inside, I thought to myself. "I did that... or at least I had a part in it."

We stood in the living room of a classic old home in an upscale part of town. Rosewood trim, stone fireplace, and indirect lighting all spoke of a home that had been updated and remodeled to suite a refined taste. It was on a larger plot in a gated community. One of our agents was heading to the front gate where he would be able to give us heads up when the target was heading our way.

Nikki had selected well. The owner was a retired Green Bay Packers player who bought the place toward the end of his career thinking he would retire there. A divorce court begged to differ and had tied up the property for years. It was elite enough to provide the right environment for the operation at hand.

The doorbell rang and one of the agents could be heard opening the front door. The clacking sound of high heels against the hardwood floors could be heard as Nikki arrived. She looked a bit impatient with the chaos of so many people in the home. But she moved directly to the dining room table and pulled several files from her briefcase.

"Okay, no bullet holes!" Nikki said while furiously signing a release form. She was bent over, leaning down to the table top level to sign. Her arched back brought back luscious memories of an afternoon house viewing just two days earlier. Unfortunately this time she was fully clothed.

"And no drilling into the rosewood! God, if you tear it up I'll never sell this place." She finished, directed more toward the younger men now unpacking electronics.

"Hey, hey," I said as I grabbed her attention from the paperwork. "I don't do guns. Remember?" I said quietly to her as I gave a warm rub on her shoulder.

"I know that's what you say, but you've not told the whole truth about anything so far," She said as her lips became a firm line. Maybe she had second thoughts at this point.

"No more lies," I said as I patted her on the shoulder more like a friend than a former lover that I had spanked.

"Max, where's the coffee?" Adrian shouted.

"I'll be right in. I just put another pot on." I shouted back.

"Max? I thought you told me your name was Andrew!" Nikki said, folding her arms and tilting her head at me.

"Oh god, look at the time. We need to get this thing rolling." I said, as I took her by the arm and started to help her toward the door.

"It's okay, Billie showed me," Adrian shouted back.

Nikki turned quickly, ripping her arm out of my grip. She stood at the door between the dining room and the kitchen, taking a good look at Billie. She was sizing her up, looking her up and down. Then she tilted her head in the opposite direction and spun around to look at me.

"You could do better," She whispered in my ear before picking up her briefcase. Her posture straightened and she swayed out the front door like a runway model. Guess the thought of there being some sort of competition between her and Billie had stuck in her mind. But I didn't want to 'do better'. I already had the best.

Billie walked toward me, bringing a cup of fresh coffee. I could tell she had seen Nikki and may have even overheard bits of the conversation. She handed me the coffee and I took a sip, watching Billie then lean back against the doorframe. She raised one knee and pressed her foot on the frame behind her.

"So Max. You never did tell me just how it was you convinced Nikki to play along with this little plan." Billie said raising her chin in Nikki's direction.

"I didn't convince her." I said calmly. God I'm such a good liar. "Andrew Martin convinced her." Mocking saying that my Andrew legend wasn't really me.

Billie rolled her eyes at me and pushed off the doorframe with her foot. She kept walking into the kitchen space while just shaking her head.

"Megan just pulled in" a voice on a radio monitor cracked. It was the voice of the agent at the front gate.

"Showtime boys and girls," I shouted.

Megan walked up the front steps a few moments later dressed to kill. She had that special elegance that comes from having spent her whole life living among the elite class of inner circle mobsters. It was more than throwing on the right brand of clothing and wearing the best jewelry from New York and LA specialty shops. Even the makeup was expertly applied, but there was something more.

You can put lipstick on a pig and it would still waddle. But if you put jeans and a t-shirt on Megan she'd still have that special something that comes from inner confidence.

When she walked into the house, she owned it. The entire staff of agents from two agencies all quieted and turned to watch.

"Let's get this over with." She said quietly but confidently.

"Megan. We're all over this place. You'll be safe. I promise." I offered her .

Billie stepped forward and offered her a greeting. "I'm Billie, I'll be helping you with your preparation."

"You'll be putting the wire on me?" Megan questioned.

"Not at all. You won't be wired. The whole house is wired. No matter what you do or where you go, we can record everything.

Megan seemed relieved that even if they checked her for a wire she would be clean. She glanced around the room, looking for some evidence of cameras. "Where are they?" she asked.

"In this room, there's one there, and there, and over here." Adrian pointed out. From air ducts to ceiling light fixtures, to a fully functioning coffee pot that included cameras, Adrian had it covered. He then poured her a cup of coffee from the "camera".

"Pretty well covered then," She said softly. "Well then Billie, maybe we should prepare." Her voice became resolute as she took the cup from Adrian.

"Right this way." Billie pointed to the home office just off the living room where she was prepared to coach Megan as to what evidence was needed.







It was nearing 11:00 am. Adrian and his team had tested all the equipment, cleaned up any evidence of their presence, and had retreated to the small apartment above the garage out back. Nikki called it an apartment but it was bigger than the condo I had in Clarksburg. When your property includes a six car garage with workspace, there's plenty of room for a full house above. There, Adrian had set up all the monitoring equipment and prepared with other agents for how they would proceed when given the go ahead.

Billie gave me a nod as she stepped out onto the back deck and made her way to the garage apartment too.

Megan and I were alone in the kitchen. She took a step toward me and started to speak. I put my finger to my lips for a moment. "Remember Megan, that anything you say or do from this moment forward is being recorded.

She hesitated but then took the step toward me anyway. "You know that if this doesn't work, he'll have me killed," She said stoically.

"It will work. And even if we fail to get what we need, we have this place surrounded. You'll be safe. The worst that can happen is that we have to put you in witness protection." I tried to reassure.

She moved to the kitchen island countertop and put her hands together in front of her, pressing her body against the granite. "I don't want to live my whole life in fear of him.

I moved over to her, behind her, putting my arm around her shoulder. "It's going to work. You can do this." I reassured. She turned slightly and rested her head on my shoulder.

"I've been trapped in this world for so long that I don't even know what I'll do if I can get out," She whispered. "I never wanted this. I was just a kid when he took me in."

Gradually the self-confident, sophisticated woman that entered the house turned into a little girl that was looking for affection and love. Maybe that's why I had missed her connection to all of this during our previous encounters. We had shared sexual intimacy and pillow talk, but I truly didn't understand the whole woman. Her polished exterior persona was only a front. Deep inside she was a woman looking for an escape. I could only offer her a few hours of escape. But today she would create her own pathway to freedom.
"I know Megan. And you're making it right." I turned her completely toward me and gripped her arms until she looked me in the eye. "You can do this." I said slowly and with confidence.

She nodded and tightened her lips into a straight line as someone determined to complete a task.

"Boss, we have company. It's on!" The voice in my earwig was that of the agent at the front gate.

"He's here," I whispered to Megan.

She stood upright and squared her shoulders. "Bring it," She said confidently.





7 - That's All We Need

Peter "Pitch" Picciurro, was dropped off at the front door by his driver. As he entered the house, his image shot across our monitors in the apartment. He was pretty much what I expected.

Not ruggedly handsome, but he did have a air of authority that came from his years leading, manipulating, and intimidating people. His short hair was slicked back with enough product to cause it to glisten in the mid-morning light. He wore expensive shoes, slacks and a thin sweater with the sleeves tugged mid-way up his forearms.

"Megan. Not bad. Not bad at all." He said pulling off his sunglasses.

Adrian caught my attention with a quick click of his fingers. The facial recognition software confirmed that it was Peter Picciurro from FBI databases. I nodded and gave him a thumbs up as he tagged the data for the record that this was our target.

"The place has everything you said you wanted in a second place near downtown," Megan said as she pulled out a pile of paperwork from the realtor.

"Looks good so far. Great entry way, travertine tile flooring leading to the kitchen, great cabinet space. Hell we could throw some great dinner parties here couldn't we." He said waving his arm in display of the space.

"Just the kind of place to bring our smaller parties," She replied.

Pitch walked into the main living room. The high quality woodwork and stone fireplace accented the space. "No much for the former owner's taste in furniture." He said patting the back of one easy chair. "Kinda lowbrow."

"The former owner is a retired NFL player." Megan brought up. "Could be the start of some interesting conversations," she mused.

"Well that's an interesting angle. It certainly would impress a few of our guests." He said shaking his head with a smug look. "We'd just have to get a decorator in here and update a few things.

"The furniture doesn't stay anyway," Megan commented.

"That's good. Saves me some money on taking it to the dump." Pitch laughed.

Pitch noticed Megan wasn't at ease and laughing with him. "What's the matter baby? You still all worked up over our business dealings right now?"



The comment made the entire apartment jump to begin checking equipment, making sure they were getting this recorded. Adrian toyed with zoom functions, getting best image possible. He was simultaneously recording multiple cameras and audio tracks. The time and date stamps were digitally tagging the moments as well as a GPS indicator to reliably locate each camera down to the inch.



"Things are getting out of control Pitch. This isn't how we started out." Megan began. "Why? Why are things so out of control right now?" She asked. Clearly she was wanting to cut to the chase. The ruse of getting him to look at this house was all well and good. But she didn't want to wait too long before pushing for evidence that could release her from her tie to this man.

Pitch closed the distance between them and pulled her into his body. He gripped her ass with one hand and her back with the other. "It ain't gonna be like this forever, baby." He pleaded. "You'll see. When this is all over and we're rollin in it, we won't have to work so hard."

She shrugged him off and he threw his hands up in frustration. "Lookatchu. You wear the best of clothes. You drive a brand new Maserati Ghibli. I take you to the finest places in town and when you're not happy with that I fly you to New York just for dinner. I'm even letting you pick out a new house in town for us. What more do you want?"

Megan walked to the kitchen countertop. She looked longingly out the window. Almost as if she was looking for freedom on the other side fo the glass. "There are rumors Pitch," She said.

"There are always rumors. You gotta get this out of your pretty little head." He started.

"Not this time Pitch, this time there are rumors the guy was a fed," She said.

Pitch suddenly turned a bit white and his voice softened. "Baby, baby. Yeah. It's not always easy." He said. His expression could be read but he didn't make the statement we needed.

"I can't do this anymore. I feel like I'm suffocating with all the pressure." Megan continued, almost driven to tears. She wasn't acting to get his response on video. She was telling the truth.

Pitch moved around the kitchen island and up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and started kissing her ear. She tilted her head and let him. You could feel that at one time she truly did love him. There was something there between them.

Pitch reached around her and gripped both of her breasts as he kissed her neck. The folds of her blouse were pulled back and exposed the black, see through bra she was wearing. She hesitated when she started to tug her blouse closed. Subconsciously she knew she was being recorded so modesty had kicked in. But the expression on her face revealed to us that she was all in. She let him pull her blouse open. Within seconds he was gripping her bare breasts and squeezing her nipples between the web of his thumb and finger.

She dropped her head back on his shoulder and tried to relax. The feeling of being massaged had to outweigh her conscious knowledge that a room full of FBI and CIA agents were watching.



"Respectfully guys," I said to the room of agents. Adrian nodded and I could see his adams apple move as he swallowed hard.



"This extra house. This push to bring in some fast cash. This whole thing is for you Megan." Pitch said in her ear as he toyed with her. His right hand slid below the view of the camera, below the counter top. Clearly he had plunged his hand down between her legs.

Megan rocked forward at the sensation of his hand digging inside her panties. Her body tilted and shifted to accommodate his rough approach. Then her head fell back and her mouth opened. We could only imagine that his fingers had penetrated her.

"You want this place baby, It's yours." Pitch whispered to her as he forcefully groped between her legs.

"Sure Pitch. I want this place. This'll do nicely. It's everything we wanted." She grunted through the sensations of his finger probing.

Pitch released her from his grip. Her skirt fell in the front as he withdrew his hand. He took a long and satisfying lick of his fingers that were wet from her panties.

Megan drew her blouse back together and facing away from him we could see her eyebrows furrow with frustration.

"We still need to talk about this, Pitch. All these feds around and a dead one. I'm worried that one of these days you won't come home. Or maybe we'll be raided. What will I do then?" She pleaded.

"I'm telling you baby, you don't need to fret your pretty little head about it. We can talk about it later." He said taking her by the hand. "Come on. Let's break in this new house by trying out the master bedroom.

He gripped her hand and began heading for the stairway. A frustrated look of abandonment flashed across Megan's face as she looked directly at one of the known cameras. It was almost a plea for help. But then she mouthed the words, 'I'm okay' before being drug away.





"They're on the move. Go to camera B1, B2, and add C1 now." Adrian called out to the operators. "Kill all B, go to all C." He orchestrated transitions as the couple wandered through the house. Pitch looked into various rooms and almost entered one. He finally found the actual master bedroom and pulled Megan along.

"Up G1, G2, and G3." Adrian said intently watching the monitors. "Keep an eye on the parameter to make sure we don't have company." He barked.

"I have the driver eyeballed. He's talking on the phone with someone. Seems chatty. Might be a girlfriend." A voice said through the monitors. "Either way, he's stationary and relaxed."





Pitch found the master bed and jumped on it with a bounce. "Pretty nice," he commented. "We may not have to do much in here." He continued while looking around.

Megan walked quietly over toward him. He reached out his hand to take hers and pulled her in front of him. Then he let her hand fall to her side.

"Take it off baby." He said nodding his head toward her. "Show me the most beautiful woman I know.

She slowly complied. Glancing around the room, she didn't know where the cameras were. It was almost as if she had hoped that she could position herself so as not to expose everything. But ultimately she resolved herself that there was no other way. Her pace quickened and within moments her blouse fell to the floor. She tugged at the side zipper of her skirt which also gave way.

Pitch sat intently watching his own personal show. He gazed at her body as her thigh highs and scant panties were revealed. He stood and helped her unclasp her bra which fell into his hands and he quickly threw to the bench at the end of the bed. Her lovely breasts hung full and heavy in front of his face.

The bed itself sat higher than normal. It was a four post, pencil style bed in matching rosewood. An exquisite quilt covered the king-size surface.

He pulled at her panties which she also helped him remove. He quickly tugged at his sweater and threw it aside with growing anticipation. She unbuckled his belt freeing his pants to fall. He was running commando under his slacks and his cock sprung free. Stepping out of his pants he pressed her body to his, causing his cock to press against the flesh of her stomach. 


"God baby, seems like it's been forever," He whispered.

"It has been. You've been busy with all this chaos." Megan said softly.

"Shush... no more business. Just us." He replied.

He stepped backward and sat on the edge of the bed spreading his legs. His now fully engorged cock stood prone, pointing at her. "Show me your talents babe," He said firmly. His feet raised up and rested on the sideboard of the bed, fully exposing himself to her.

She clenched her eyes for a moment, realizing what was going to take place. She was about to have sex with her husband while a dozen or more agents watched, waiting for evidence to put him away. But she moved forward and knelt between his legs. Taking his cock in her hands she licked his head once and then devoured him.





"Give her some dignity," I said quietly to Adrian as I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"Boss?" He replied.

"Shut off the video monitors in here. Keep recording just in case. Keep your monitor on. You be the only one watching the video feed. The rest can listen to make sure nothing is said that can be used as evidence.

"Gottcha boss," Adrian replied respectfully.

"She's a voluntary asset so let's keep it out of the gutter." I said loudly to the entire staff.

The screens went blank but the audio feed gave more play by play than we really needed.





Megan licked the sides of his cock in flowing motions. She stood upright on her knees, bent over only by the peak of her back. Her breasts rubbed occasionally against his thighs.

He roughly grabbed the back of her head and forced her down onto his cock. We could hear the gagging sounds of thrusts that were beyond her means.

She cared for his cock for several minutes before we heard her being thrown to the bed. "Sorry babe, but you've got me all worked up. I have to get rid of this load before I explode." He said coldly.

Within seconds you could hear the sounds of the bed being tested with rhythmic thrusts. Megan groaned with the stress of being used. Her voice was not the expression of loving sexual bliss that I had heard from her just days before. It was the harsh, aggressive thrashing of a woman on the verge of being raped.

"Roll over woman. I want to take you from behind." He said sharply at one point. The sound of shifting and squeaking told the story of Megan submitting to his desires.

The pace of thrusting sounds, moans, and the recognizable cadence of fucking resumed. Moments later Pitch let out a loud moan as he came. The post climax thrusts were more metered and erratic, then the fucking stopped.

You could hear him leave the room, stepping apparently to a bathroom. Then the unmistakable sound of soft sobs.

He returned moments later. "Here. Here's a towel." He said as the sound of cloth being thrown across her could be heard.

Adrian looked up at me and grimaced. He seemed completely annoyed by what I had forced him to watch. "I hope this is worth it," He muttered under his breath.

The sound of pants and belt buckles. Movement in the room.

Pitch could be heard leaving the room. Adrian quickly restored the monitors in front of Billie and me. Megan lay naked across the bed on her stomach, her hands between her legs as if almost in discomfort.

Pitch was at the doorway, captured by both cameras in the bedroom as well as one in the hallway.

Megan rolled over and called to him. "Pitch. Please. Just let me out." she pleaded.

"Let you out?" Pitch asked with a tone of confusion. "There's no getting out. You belong to me and don't you fuckin ever forget it. You belong to me forever."

Pitch started to leave. Megan was on the verge of panic. All of this was for nothing if she couldn't get him to confess. "Why did you do it Pitch!" She blurted out in an almost scream.

He turned back to her, pointing his finger at her and yelling. "I did it for you bitch. If that fed had squealed we would all be going to jail." he shouted waiving his hand in the air. "That cock sucker knew more about my operation than I did. He found out about the Meridian company funneling their dirty Iraqi money through us. If those fuckin mercenaries found out how much he knew, they would kill us all."

He paused in his shouting but his anger was growing. Pacing the room he stopped to shout at her again, "I capped two in the back of that fed's brain 'cause he knew too much. If it got out I'd lose you." he continued to rant. "Say something. Say anything. Just say it." he shouted at Megan.

"You already lost me," She said quietly.





"GO, GO, GO." I shouted into the mic before ripping it off and heading out of the apartment.

The sound of a dozen agents storming the house could be heard as I ran across the lawn toward the back door. By the time I reached the second floor, Pitch was on his knees with his hands over his head and two agents were cuffing him.

I stepped past the agents as they began reading him his Miranda rights. Everything inside me wanted to beat the living shit out of him. But Megan needed me more. Moving over to her, I tugged at the corners of the quilt and wrapped her. She collapsed in tears as the agents picked him up and escorted him out.

"This isn't over Megan. You're fuckin' mine. Don't you ever forget it." he shouted.

In tears I just held her for a moment. "It's over hon." I said softly.

"Is it really?" She asked softly.

"Adrian." I called out. I could hear him in my earwig and he was hearing me through the video and recording devices.

"Got it all boss. Live feed to the US attorney's office as we speak. The prosecutor is giving me thumbs up on the screen.

"They got everything they needed. This guy is going to jail for life." I reassured her.

With that Megan broke into uncontrollable sobs.

"You'll have some other agents debrief you. They'll need a lot of details that will help them build a solid case." I whispered to her.

She nodded her head as a female agent stepped into the room. "We'll take it from here." The agent responded. She held the blanket like a curtain, letting Megan get to her clothes.





8 - The Airport

The sound of a voice over the loud speaker was distorted to the point of stupidity. But then again, all airport loud speakers suck. I stood in line behind a slightly balding middle aged business man who was rambling on about how slow the TSA line was today and how he was going to miss his flight to LAX.

Yeah, it was slow. For some reason nobody seemed to have a TSA pre check today. All the passengers were lined up through a single TSA check point. Additional security lines were roped off with black cattle guides.

The little grandma type behind me in her velour shirt with pastel flowers and crinkly jacket tied dutifully at her waist seemed especially nervous. "I despise this. Last time I flew they stuck me in that thing and shouted at me to keep my hands above my head. I'm 86 years old. Just how high do you think I can hold my arms up?" She said to get my attention.

We chatted for a moment as we slowly stepped forward. A young woman in pajama pants and t-shirt walked by waving her hands and shouting in to nothingness. Maybe I'm getting older but taking calls while walking through an airport using a wireless earpiece always makes the person look like they're crazy and just talking to themselves. She about walked into a tall African-American guy with his drawers barely held up to an inch above his cock.

The black guy shook his head and turned back into his spot in line while mumbling, "Crazy Cracker!"

"Don't blame all us crackers, I think she's nuts too!" Came a throwback from one of the other passengers.

Shouts on the left of the line from TSA agent number one gave instructions on what can and can't go with us through the wave scanner. Of course TSA agent number two was shouting contradictory instructions from the other side of the line. So of course nobody knew what to do.

A young, pregnant woman demanded an alternative method due to the risk of x-ray harm to her unborn child. She spouted of studies from science journals to the agent who obviously wasn't willing to listen. Finally she got her way and was taken through a normal metal detector. I wanted to explain to her that this was a millimeter wave scanner and posed no real threat to her baby unlike the backscatter x-ray scanners used a decade ago.

I chose not to tell her that since I liked her spunk and despised being violated by some random TSA agent too. 'More power to you' I thought.

When I got to the scanner myself, TSA agent number two decided to change all the rules and demanded that nothing I have go through the scanner. Okay, this takes the cake. There's no other airport I've ever gone through that didn't let you take your boarding pass with you. Most even demanded an ID and boarding pass.

Internally I knew there would be a problem since I held in my hand the identifier code from TSA that authorized me to maintain possession of my firearm in flight. If the bulge at my waistline didn't give it away, I'm sure the machine would certainly catch it. I was ready to present my TSA identifier code to her but she was becoming a snobbish, authority driven brat.

'I have time to kill' I thought to myself. So I did what she demanded, knowing full well that an alarm would go off as soon as I passed through the scanner. I put my boarding pass, ID, badge, and TSA identifier code in the blue bucket she was holding and followed the orders of the jackboot, TSA, Nazi screaming at me.

I stepped into the machine and placed my hands over my head, laughing to myself about all the commotion that would take place any moment.

There was silence.

I was confused as I turned quickly toward the techs behind me who made no motion to question the fact that I was carrying my Sig 9mm.

"You can step out now sir." The TSA agent demanded. "NEXT" She yelled.
I walked to the conveyor belt to pick up my carry on briefcase still stunned. It's true that TSA rarely has prevented any crime using these toys. And it's true that experienced people have tested them and have been able to get lots of banned items past them. But I didn't even try.

My shoes and jacket came through in the second bin. I slipped on my shoes and started to take my briefcase when another agent approached me from the other side of the conveyor. "Sir, don't forget these." She held the blue bucket up for me to retrieve my things. A boarding pass, my ID folder that had my FBI Creds and badge, as well as the TSA Identifier code were all neatly stacked in the bucket.

Other passengers had stepped to the waiting area chairs to put their shoes back on as an extremely clear loudspeaker announced, "Two additional lanes have been opened for passengers."

Within seconds the single lane through a single scanner became three lanes and most avoiding the full body scanner in favor of traditional metal detectors. 'Hell, just my luck. Now that I'm through they open up more lanes.' I thought to myself. It's sorta like my luck at Walmart. No matter what checkout lane I try to take mine will be the slowest. Someone will always have a bad credit card or an expired gift card that doesn't work.

Oh well. Screw it. I'm heading home to Clarksburg. It doesn't matter.

I paused long enough to pull my boarding pass out and remember the terminal number for my flight. "E69" was clearly marked. I started walking in that direction when I suddenly stopped and looked down at my boarding pass again. It was a boarding pass with my name and about the same time I thought my flight should take off. But this was a ticket for Air Canada, not United.

Arriving at terminal E69, I went to the desk. Toronto was the listed destination. First thing, Maple Leafs are annoying to all true Pittsburgh Penguins fans. Second, I had no reason to book a flight to Canada.

"There must be some mistake." I said to the young attendant at the desk. "I have a boarding pass that I picked up at United's ticketing desk. But it's for Air Canada. Can you check this please?" I asked more kindly than a typical passenger. Experience has taught me that if you're polite to the desk agents you get better service and sometimes even a few perks.

The attractive young woman fumbled through her computer a second. She held my ticket to the scanner and then suddenly said, "Oh. Here's the issue." She pulled out a drawer and handed me a cream colored envelop. "This should explain everything."

I ripped the envelop open and found a simple matching cream colored card. "It's been a tough year so I've arranged for some time alone with you. We're going to take off for a few days together." The card was signed Billie.

Grinning like a kid, I knew that Billie was pulling the strings today. Guess that's the kind of power you have when you're in the CIA.

An hour later, boarding was nearly compete. Everyone was settled in their seats and I was being given the instructions concerning my 'emergency exit' seat.

As the flight attendant accepted my agreement to remain in the exit row, I was grateful to find that I had the row to myself for this flight. The attendant moved toward the back of the plane to continue preparation for takeoff. I started looking out the window, happy to be leaving Milwaukee.

The engines whirled and we were about to move away from the terminal when another flight attendant tapped me on the shoulder. "Sir," She said apologetically.

"Yeah. Just daydreaming." I said, turning to her.

"Sir, your seat was given an upgrade to first class. You're now in row 2 seat B It's the aisle seat. I hope that's okay." She explained.

"Sounds good to me." I said, gathering my things. Maybe open seats go to agents or other law enforcement members if they're still vacant at departure.

I stepped up to 2B but knew already what was going on. I smelled Billie's perfume. I glanced down at seat 2A and there she was grinning like a kid.

"Hey stranger," She said as I settled in and strapped on my seat belt.

"Okay, well that explains the ticket change," I said. "You CIA types are pretty good at this." I whispered toward her ear.

"Well I just thought it's about time we got to go on a vacation together," She said.

"Yeah, we could use a break." I said with a grin.

"No Max. I mean we both were given a 'vacation'". She said more slowly. We're taking a trip. And this time we're going together.

Like a load of bricks it hit me. Yeah. I had screwed up in the Pittsburgh operation. I blew it in Kansas City. And I pissed off the powers that be during my first few weeks in Milwaukee. But every time I somehow pulled it off anyway. This time must have been too much. The FBI must be firing me.

"So I'm being sent on a trip from the FBI for fucking up another job." I stated matter of factly.

"Quite the contrary. Check your ID." Billie said pulling out a folder.

I dug into my pocket and pulled out my black folder that carried my FBI ID and badge. When I opened it, I was surprised to find a fresh ID credential. "Max Wright, CIA Special Agent." I flipped the card over and my FBI badge had been replaced with the smaller CIA clip badge.

"We're on vacation. Together." Billie said softly.

A weight lifted from my chest knowing we were going to be together. And that I still had a job. "God, I really do need a break. It's going to be great to take a vacation with you. But Toronto wouldn't be my first choice." I mumbled.

"What freakin' 'Break' are you talking about." She spouted back. Then she threw a file folder on my lap. "Here's our next mission and your new legend. You have a little over 3 and a half hours of flight time to memorize it."