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Liar

By: vet42



Had I known the horrible thing that fate had in store for me, I would have passed right by, no—run screaming from, the old cathedral on Ninth, and changed my ways on the spot.

But fate has an annoying way of keeping secrets until it's too late. 

Making my way home from Turner's Tavern after cashing on a sweet deal—I'd set up old Farley good—he wouldn't be seeing anything without bars in front of it for a long, long time, thanks to the crooked cop who was more than willing take down my, well, let us say...embellishment, for a price--I lavished in the sweet warmth of whiskey spreading through my belly. 

Fingering the crisp, wad of bills in my front pocket, I thought about Farley for a moment. 

Of course he was innocent, he wasn't even there the day that those four men had coming racing out of Bell's Credit Union on Downing—but the cops had been on him for sometime now, and one cop in particular was hot to nail him down.

So, for a few drinks, and few more Franklins, nine to be exact, I lied. 

What the hell after all...Farley was about as smart as a blonde with a condom. 

I'd probably done society a favor. 

Putting it out of my mind, I jammed my hands into my sweat jacket against the cold and headed home. 

But as I made my way past the old cathedral, the unmistakable, irresistible sounds of partying reached my ears.

A party in a church? 

I had to check this out.

Ascending the granite staircase to the heavy, iron laced wooden doors, I pulled one of them open and found myself standing at the entrance to a great, eighteenth century style ballroom, complete with massive, glittering chandeliers that hung halfway from the grand ceiling to the floor. 

Last time I looked this was supposed to be a church. 

But then, I had never actually...looked...before. 

Besides, it was their church; they could do what they wanted with it.

I estimated that there had to be at least a hundred people or better filling the impressive room between the incredible, oak paneled walls. 

From the lavish costumes they wore: waistcoats, stocking and those white powdery wigs for the men, and beautifully decorated floor length dresses—the kind that show lots of cleavage for the women, I assumed that I had stumbled into some sort of weird, period masquerade party. 

They all had those tiny masks that just cover the eyes. 

Most of the people were coupled off in the center of the huge, highly polished floor, dancing the minuet or at least a form of it, moving crazily forwards and back as a four-man rock band pumped out a strange, yet, very cool sounding, version of some classical tune. 

Dressed in my jeans and sweat jacket, nobody seemed to notice me as I stood there in the doorway...until I stepped through it, that is. 

"Excuse me sir, but you must remove your mask and be recognized..." a voice, deep with authority spoke from my right. 

A tall, impressive looking fellow, also dressed in a waistcoat, wig and stockings appeared at my side...he must have been their version of a bouncer. 

"But I'm not wearing a mask," I answered...after all, I wasn't. 

"Your humor is appreciated sir, but please remove your mask to be recognized."

"But I don't have a mask on..." 

With frustration in his voice, the bigger man took a step towards me. 

"Sir, I must insist, please remove the mask, or it will be removed for you." 

The look on his own masked face told me he wasn't kidding. 

Beginning to feel uneasy with the situation, I turned back towards the door to leave. 

The man placed a hand on my shoulder to stop me. 

"The mask sir?"

What was I to do? 

Raising a hand to my face, I felt no mask, yet apparently, this clown either thought I was being belligerent, or...somehow, he was under the impression that I was actually wearing a mask. 

Not desiring of a good pummeling from this guy, my mind raced, before at last deciding on a direction.

"Sir..." I asked, mocking his slow, slightly, British drawl, "do I appear to be wearing a mask to you?' 

Clear and direct his retort was like a shot from the hip, "everyone is wearing a mask sir, now please remove it." 

Then it came to me... reaching behind my head, I pretended to untie the mask that I wasn't wearing and stretched an empty hand in his direction as if to hand it over. 

"Here'ya go..." I said.

The world exploded in a white-hot sheet of pain, raining needles on top of my head, as I staggered backwards into the wall, arms flailing, searching for anything that made sense to steady myself. 

He hit me!

Before I could retaliate, he slugged me again, this time in the midsection. 

I doubled.

"LIAR!" he bellowed. 

Snatching me roughly by the collar, he dragged me towards the ballroom, where the dancing crowd had already parted, revealing a small circle of shiny, hardwood floor in the center.

"THIS MAN IS A LIAR!" he announced loudly, tossing me towards the open space, where I hit in a two-part movement, landing first on my knees, and then plopping forward onto my face. 

"UNMASK HIM!" he shouted to the onlookers gathered around me. 

Terrified, I rose to my knees. Getting one leg under me, I thrust myself up to stand, before someone in the throng reached out and shoved me over onto my backside. 

It was apparent that I was to stay that way. 

"He's a liar!" a woman's voice rose from somewhere behind the now swelling throng. "And I bet he's a thief too!" a man in front chimed in.

"Liar..."

Without warning, a chant formed in the center of the crowd, low and growling at first, but quickly gathering momentum.

"LI...AR...OFF WITH THE MASK...LI...AR...OFF WITH THE MASK..." they repeated in a sing-song, closing on me.

In sheer mind-numbing panic, I balled over, throwing my arms above me in an attempt to shield myself.

"LI...AR...OFF WITH THE MASK...OFF WITH THE MASK..." the chant continued, rising in pitch until it echoed off the walls and ceiling of the great chamber. 

This was crazy, and though I was panic-stricken, my anger was also aroused. 

After all, enough is enough. 

Rolling up onto my knees to face them, I gathered my strength and screamed: "I'M NOT WEARING ANY GODDAM MASK!!" 

I screamed hard and long with every available fiber, holding the last of it until I thought my throat would implode. 

When the final syllable of the final word had finally drained out, I fell forward on all fours, gasping for oxygen, like a drowning man, but steeled for their reaction. 

But they were silent...like a Broadway musical where the main character belts out the big finish, and the entire cast freezes for a long moment before the next scene. 

It was ludicrous.

All at once the circle parted to my left, opening a small hole, through which a superbly decked figure stepped, striding boldly to where I was sprawled at an awkward angle on all fours, stopping a few feet from me.

Still fighting to compose myself, I looked up at him from my rather humiliating position on the floor. 

His trappings were rich, and I judged him to be some sort of dignitary or leader among these maniacs. 

"Why do you refuse to remove your mask?" 

He was the first to speak, talking down, in what sounded to me like a condescending tone. "You must remove your mask and be recognized." He said again, before I could answer.

The ballroom was heavy with silence, like a hole had been punched in the air.

Rising slowly, I eyed the whacked assemblage before me, waiting for an attack. When none came, I brushed myself off.

"Why do you insist, why does the big oaf by the door insist..." Turning in a circle, and addressing the crowd, I continued, "Why do all of you insist, for whatever insane reason, that I am WEARING A MASK?" Punctuating the words WEARING A MASK by stabbing a finger at them. 

More silence.

Finally, the leader spoke up again. 

"Why sir, do you insist that you are not?" 

Were these people completely crazy?

"And sir, why do you insist on not removing it to be recognized?" 

I saw that I was getting nowhere and tried a different tack. 

"Why are all these people here, yourself included, wearing masks?" I shot.

"We all are required to remove our masks and be recognized, before we are allowed to enter...we have done so, and now sir, so must you."

Daring a glance to the door, I saw that the ruffian who'd socked me earlier was closely guarding it—no good there—but it was the only exit that I could see. 

With that option gone, I had no other choice but to try and talk my way out. 

"Sir..." I began, addressing the leader again, "if I am wearing a mask, please tell me...what does it look like?" I crossed my arms, pretty pleased with myself, figuring that would throw him...but it did not.

"Your mask is as all masks are, sir...it covers your eyes."

That's it? 

It covers my eyes?

"I will ask you once more to remove it."

"Sir I can't remove something that I'm not wearing..." I said, dropping my arms to my sides in resignation. 

It was apparent that there was no way out of this mess, and I couldn't very well take off a mask that I didn't have on in the first place.

"Very well sir...is that your answer?" He asked again.

The crowed was beginning to grow impatient, with shouts of "he's a liar" at the back. 

Grabbing on to that, to buy time, I addressed the leader again. 

"Do you think I'm a liar sir?" 

His answer was swift. 

"You are telling me that you are not wearing a mask, is that correct?" 

"Yes I'm not wearing a mask..." I answered quickly, albeit with a touch of sarcasm.

"How is it sir, that you swear you have no mask, when it is plain to all that the opposite is true?" 

He had me there. 

"I don't know sir..." was all I could think of.

"If all the people say that one thing true, and one person denies it, then who is perceived as the liar, sir...the one or the company of many?" 

His logic was basically infallible, but in this case, I was sure that he was wrong. I knew that I was not wearing a fucking mask.

"But sir...really, I'm not wearing..." 

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!" he roared. 

The crowd reciprocated, chanting "AN...SWER...AN...SWER...ANSWER" 

Standing silent in their midst, I studied them worriedly, hoping that the leader would somehow calm them down before they turned on me in a frenzy. Finally, after a few minutes, the chant died.

The leader waited. 

The crowd waited. 

I waited. 

It was like some deranged Mexican standoff. 

Finally, I spoke. 

"Sir by your logic, you are correct..." 

The crowd jeered, cutting me off at that point, and I waited for them to quiet before continuing. 

Finally when they were silent again, I said, "If all the people say that something is true, and one person says that it is not true, then that person could be perceived as a liar." 

The crowd went wild. 

Raising his arms in front of him, he quieted them once more...driving home the point to me that my fate was in his hands, and I wondered how much longer he could contain them.

"Then by your own admission sir...you are a liar." 

Talk about using your words against you. 

"Sir...are you admitting that you are a liar?"

This had gotten way out of hand. 

What started out as a question of whether or not I was wearing a stupid mask, had somehow warped into this maniacal circus. 

My honesty was at question here...I was being tried.

"Why, for God's sake," I pleaded, "do you think that I am wearing a mask after all? Can't you see that I am not?" 

It was a last ditch effort.

"You are the one who does not see sir, the mask of dishonesty that you wear blinds you to your own lies..."

"Uhm..." I stammered, "does that mean..."

"UNMASK THE LIAR!" he wailed at the crowd. 

That was the cue that they had been waiting for.

In madness, they rushed in from all directions, like the Red Sea closing in on itself. 

Instantly, I was pulled under, feeling hands and fingers, reaching, poking, grabbing, tearing at my face, snatching bits of skin, and pulling at my hair and ears. 

Screaming, and writhing, I fought them, trying vainly to cover myself...but there were far too many of them. 

My arms were pulled behind me, and I was held helpless, exposed to their ripping. The side of my suddenly head detonated as my left ear was jerked from its place, spewing out blood in great, jetting gobs on the woman who held it up like a grisly prize. 

The thundering mêlée was deafening, soon I could make no sense of up or down as I fell beneath a darkness of bodies. A finger found it's way to my right eye socket, putting it out in a shattering glimmer of pain. Another dug it's way into a nostril, and forming a hook, tore its way out through my nose. My cheeks were clawed and twisted, until finally, someone managed to tear most of the left one off. 

Most of my hair had been torn away by now and the blood from my battered scalp ran thickly into my remaining eye, blocking out any sight I had left.

What felt like armies of feet kicked and stomped me from every direction, breaking bones and smashing vital organs as the blood-crazed, mindless horde beat me numb, leap-frogging over each other from behind to get at me, where I twisted beneath them at the center.

Teeth were kicked and ripped from my mouth, and someone got a hold of my tongue, yanking it violently before tearing it from my throat. My lower lip was next to go.

Little by little, they pulled and shred me, slowly reducing me to bloody pieces.

Amazingly though, I managed to remain conscious for quite some time through all of it. By the time I lost my other eye, I had long stopped feeling the pain. 

Eventually, I had to give up to them and accept my fate—the fate of a liar. 

Thinking about Farley again, as I slipped into darkness, I finally understood the error of my ways, for I had been unmasked. 

As I said before, had I known what thing fate had in store for me, I would have run screaming...and I never would have lied about Farley in the first place. 

Liar



This is a bit different for me. While there are two sexual encounters, the focus is more on the romance between characters and the story line related to it. So if you're looking for the characters to jump in to bed together by the third paragraph, you may want to read a different story.

Thanks to my friends who continue to encourage my writing.

-Jim

______________________________

CONFESSIONS

"I'm a liar. There's no better way to put it. I'm a liar and I've always been a liar. To flippantly say that I've lied about a few things doesn't even begin to describe it because I'm not some run of the mill, average, every day, liar. It's not like, I'm the guy who lies about how many drinks I had after work or why there are lipstick marks on my collar. It's not that I lie about my income or exaggerate about my last round of golf. I wish it was that easy to explain. It's not; it's far worse than that. I'm a professional liar. My father was a professional liar before me and I learned from the best. 

In 1974 we moved to Pittsburgh, PA. That's where we spent a good portion of my teen years so in many ways, that's home. Once again, my brother and I were thrust into a new school system and a new social environment where we would once again be called upon to lie about our family, our past, and our future. My whole childhood was clouded in secrecy and stealth, going from one last name to another. Sometimes we suddenly disappeared and mysteriously moved to another state within days.

The cover story I was taught for Pittsburgh was that my father had just retired from the Air Force as an officer in a division that required a fairly high security level. He supposedly had taken a job with a local accounting and consulting firm. But he actually worked for the CIA. My brother and I didn't know the full extent of what his assignment was, nor will we ever know why we were in Pittsburgh. What we did know is that we were called upon to once again forget our past and memorize a new past, new names, new telephone numbers, new address, and a new reality.

I became rather good at it, in ways that often made my mother lose sleep at night. My brother on the other hand often struggled with the concept of being a liar. Mom spent hours quizzing him on his new cover, trying to get him to memorize the back story so confidently that he wouldn't trip up in some social setting. Try as he might, he was always the weakest link in our family of liars. 

I don't know if it was that he had moral objections to being a liar, or if he was simply not as good at taking on a new character every time we moved. I hate to say it, but the fact that he couldn't lie as well as I could made me think my brother wasn't as smart as I was.

Unlike my brother, I took being a liar as a challenge. I would not only accept the new name and background, I'd develop a whole new personality for each new name; thoughtfully considering the back story and coming up with just the right personality traits and habits to go with the name. 

As a junior high school student I found it rather easy to take on yet another new reality. It was all a game. Even my accent could morph slightly with each character I played. My personality could change in an instant. Just the mention of one of my 'realities' and I would change personality like putting on a different color robe. Guess I've always understood the concepts you hear from actors about "what's my motivation?" and "becoming the character".

My name is Brad "Max" Wright. Or is it? Hell, sometimes I get a bit confused as to who I really am. Now, if someone would call me Andrew, or Seth, or Martin, I'd respond. But I'd respond differently to each name based on the cover story, background, personality, accent, and even a different sexual orientation of that reality. It's a trained response from living the life of a liar. 

My talent as a liar was carefully developed through the years and honed by the very best. Recruited to the FBI during my college years, I was given detailed instruction on the fine are of being a liar. They trained me so well that at times I even had dreams that were from the point of view of one of my characters. My lies became realities.

Back in 2003, I even beat an interview by Roger Shuy who wrote the book on uncovering deceptions in the stories of suspects during interrogation. He wasn't too happy about it either. But amazingly enough he became a great friend; even if I felt like from time to time he was analyzing me for his next research study.

Guess that leads me to where I am today. I'm a deep cover operative for the FBI. Most of the time I'll live as someone else for a several months at a time. Once it stretched to four years. But it took months of debriefing and psychotherapy to pull me out of that character. Yeah. It does screw me up at times."

Leaning forward to make my point, I continued, "Oh, don't get me wrong. My life isn't filled with danger and potential risk of life at any moment. Not all deep cover operatives are like what you see in the movies. My risk is simply of being found out by someone I'm assigned to observe. At worst I fear getting beaten up by a security guard and thrown to the street. I have a great admiration for those who work as high risk, deep cover operatives. Not that I envy their jobs.

While they're working drug kingpins and syndicate bosses, I'm a bit more benign. I infiltrate the business world. It's all pretty dull actually. If I told you all about my daily job you'd probably fall asleep on me. But we've put away a dozen businesses that represent billions in illegal activity including money laundering, corporate espionage, importation of illegal merchandise, human trafficking and high-end scammers.

I now work out of a high security facility near Clarksburg, West Virginia. The FBI says it's a facility dedicated to the national fingerprint registry and bio-metrics data of the FBI. But then again, they're all liars too. I mean, come on! Who needs a campus of buildings that size to house data?

Call it confession. Call it a cathartic moment. Call it whatever you want. I had an experience recently that has caused me to rethink my life. That's why I'm here."

I sat in the darkness for several moments. "Son, are you even Catholic?" the Priest's voice from behind the wooden lattice asked.

"Twice I was." I replied.





______________________________

ONE MONTH EARLIER

The Jetstream 41 landed smoothly with only a mild yaw in its final approach before touching down at the small landing strip in Clarksburg. The hum of the propellers pulled the craft to the gate as I gathered my briefcase and personal items. Other occupants of the craft were putting on their sports jackets and straightening ties to disembark in the silent rhythm of business travelers.

Within moments an older, but well maintained, black Suburban pulled up next to the craft. Immediately several security guards got out and began surveying the landing strip and plane. Two other black Suburbans trailed behind by several yards and moved into position. Clearly one of the passengers was a VIP. It certainly wasn't me, so I glanced around trying to imagine which of the passengers in which of the dark blue suits was the one that brought out the escort cars.

Stepping off the plane and into the cool spring air, I saw one of our passengers heading quickly to the Suburban surrounded by a handful of men in dark blue suits. His 'staff' had noticeable bulges along their hips; outlining their poorly concealed firearms. 

"Mr. Wright." A voice called out to me. 

"Here." I indicated while trying to raise my hand that was laden down with a brief case and jacket. 

"I'm here to pick you up. Over in the black Suburban." 

I smiled to myself since all the SUVs looked alike. But the young FBI agent that couldn't have been any older than 28 was just doing his job. He took my luggage and swiftly headed to the tailgate where he secured them while I got in the passenger seat with my briefcase.

Barreling down the state route and crossing over I-79, I glanced up long enough to see the green highway sign indicating the FBI facility. Pulling off the offramp and passing a local hospital the road quickly became desolate, moving quickly into the mountains. Off in the distance I could see the familiar main gate. Gate keepers decked out in equipment that would make any large city SWAT team jealous surrounded the vehicle. After clearing security, we drove through the campus. Each time I was driven into the complex I thought that it looked more like a small university than it did a Federal facility. 

"Max, good of you to get here so quickly." Austin stood, pushing his desk chair back with his legs as he got up to greet me. He stood up greet me. That's usually a bad sign. Any time Austin stands up, he's got a big 'ask'. I could only imagine the assignment he had lined up for me this time. He reached out to shake my hand over the pile of folders, stacked neatly on his desk. 

"Like I had a choice!" I replied mockingly. I gripped his hand. I always have respected a man with a solid grip and Austin had just that. He smirked at me before taking his seat again, nodding to the brown leather chair set out for me. The soft chair seemed out of place in the sterile office; white walls with just a few photos and florescent lights. I threw my satchel down next to the chair before looking back to the pile. "Okay, so who am I this time?" I replied.

"Max, why so short?" He replied.

"Look, Austin. Don't spread more shit. You've already told me this is important by a ticket on the executive jet, and you've told me that it's a big assignment by the way you're acting. So what is it?"

He exhaled deeply before grabbing a folder and glancing at the title tab. "Jim Newton." He said as he tossed a first folder at me. "You're an accountant with BDO." 

"Fuck it, not again. Can't you ever give me a cover story that's any more exciting than a boring accountant? Do you have any idea how utterly exhausting it is, just being around a room full of accountants?" I grumbled picking up the folder and opening it up to the summary page. 

"Have you looked in a mirror lately? If the shoe fits...." He trailed off before opening the next folder. 

"BDO? Are they in on this?" I mumbled while looking over the summation.

"Yeah. BDO has cooperated and has a whole employment record already in place. They've back channeled us in and even let us redirect calls from their switchboard to the workspaces."

I thumbed through the bio sheet of the character they had created for me. I didn't respond to his comment, knowing that my academic background of an MBA was often used as a part of my cover. 

"But we have a twist to the story this time. We're using your MBA background and your hobbies." He grinned with delight knowing that I had not gotten to that page in the cover story yet. 

I shot him a quick glance before thumbing through the cover story file more quickly. Most of it appeared to be the standard stuff. But then I hit a glossy 8x10 shot of a gorgeous woman. A whistle came across my lips involuntarily at the sight of her. A petite blond with a hint of tom boy but curves in all the right places.

"We're going to be drawing on your photography skills this time too. We need a photographer who can get to know this woman; Jessica Quinn." Austin instructed.

I gave a soft whistle before commenting. "Not a tough assignment then." I couldn't help but smile at the thought.

"Easy there cowboy. It gets better!" Austin smirked.

"How can it get better than needing to get to know her?" I asked, probing for the whole story. It was usually better than digging through the portfolio pile he was about to hand me.

"Your cover is that you're an amateur photographer who enjoys teaching beginners and friends. She thinks of herself as a model and photographer of sorts too. But she's more of a model wannabe. You need to get to know her and build a relationship with her. Talk photo geek with her. Teach her some basics of photography. Then when she trusts you, start into the normal routine. Get your foot in the door to her boss - who's also her husband." He tossed another 8x10 across the desk at me. It slid across the slick, high gloss desk with ease.

"God!" I exclaimed at the sight of his mug. "She's married to this old shit?" The guy was at least 20 years her senior. It brought new meaning to the concept of 'trophy wife'.

"Adam Quinn. This old shit is trafficking in young women, bringing them to the States and putting them to work in back street sweat shops. They're the lucky ones. The pretty girls he pimps out to his clients." Austin explained.

"So he's a sick old shit." I shot back. "How soon do I start on this." 

"We have you set up to go in as a consultant for the department where Jessica works on Monday morning." He said as he tossed another folder at me. "Of course, being the boss's wife, she doesn't really work there. She's just eye candy for the movers and shakers that Quinn brings in as clients."

"So what's the objective?" I inquired. 

"Intel tells us that Miss eye candy is pretty oblivious. She doesn't even know that she's carrying a load of encrypted files on the laptop she hauls around. Our impression is that she's not bright enough to turn the thing on let alone be in on a major sex trafficking ring. So Quinn has been letting her mule data about his operation on it. Hard to get busted with records related to ferrying sex slaves across state lines if you never carry the data yourself." 

"So she's not a target, just an innocent bystander"" I pressed.

"She's not under our investigation. Of course if you do some 'probing into her yourself' I'm sure you might dig up something. Just be sure to put a condom on that probe! But we don't care about her. Just find a way to get the data files and get out. It's a pretty simple operation." Austin leaned back in his seat and massaged his forehead like he was feeling the onset of a migraine.

"Guess I better get at it then." I replied, shoving the folders into my satchel. 

"We booked you for two weeks on this one. Shouldn't take long. There's workspace ready for you. Workspace L412." He instructed. The workspaces were a maze of suites where teams would set up temporary offices or 'workspaces' for the duration of any operation. We endearingly referred to the Workspace floor as "the rat's maze".

I stood to leave, prepared to relearn my reality in three days; a new name, new background, new job, new priorities. I was already wondering about the new character that I'd become this time. When I got to the door I remembered one last item. "Who's my handler this time?" I asked without looking up from the file I was scanning.

"Billie Haynes." He said with a mild tone of self-amusement as began rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

I stopped cold in my tracks at her name. Billie! 

I've been trained to not react too apparently to any comment made by anyone at any time. It's part of living your entire life undercover. Any hint of an emotional reaction to news could blow your cover faster than anything else. So I've learned to maintain a cool and calm demeanor to just about any news. But I wasn't ready for this.

The expression on my face must have told it all. He wouldn't look directly at me as I turned to look back at him. "You're one sick shit, you know." I shot back.

"Glad you approve." He dryly responded with a devilish grin. He knew he had had me this time. "Just don't let your past interfere with you doing your job." His voice turned quickly to that 'boss' tone that he's known for. "She's not buying your shit anymore. Things have changed while you were gone. Changed in a big way. So don't get all sentimental on me; just do your job."



'The bastard knows exactly what he's doing.' I muttered to myself as I took the elevator down another floor to the workspaces. I truly wasn't looking forward to this. Billie and I parted on pretty harsh terms after a blown operation that should have cost us our jobs. 

Fortunately Austin was the only one who knew about our indiscretions. He buried the info for some reason. Maybe he likes us or maybe he just didn't want to fill out all the forms it would require to fire us. Whatever the case, he was throwing us back together again. It could be just a sadistic way of getting back at us for causing him problems.

Billie was a genius hacker and a pretty decent handler. She had been my primary source of information and communication with headquarters during three operations. We became too personally involved in our relationship during a routine infiltration of a web scammer operation eighteen months earlier. 

She had played the part of my girlfriend so that she could come and go from the company that I was "working". We'd meet for lunch or she'd pick me up after work, which got her in and out of the building. As the weeks passed, the front desk staff didn't even blink as she came and went. In those meetings I'd pass off pertinent information and data for her to copy, scan, and correlate during the op. 

I had enjoyed those lunch meetings. But some of my 'co-workers' got suspicious. Apparently we weren't acting enough like a dating couple. So I started holding Billie's hand, kissing her good-bye, and even letting other people see us sneaking a quick grope to ward off suspicions. Somewhere along the way, I started enjoying those quick gropes. So much so that I would do it when nobody was even looking. It was no longer just for show. It was for us.

Then it happened. One night when she picked me up at the office and I kissed her, it wasn't a phony, make believe kiss to keep the cover. This time she kissed back. She really kissed me. She kept her eyes open and kissed me back, deeply, confidently, and so sensually that I instantly knew it wasn't a part of our cover. I didn't stop her. I kissed her too. 

It wasn't long until we were back at my apartment taking a long, extremely hot shower after having spent an early evening of passion together. The rest of that night we spend together she fell asleep in my arms and I knew I wanted her in my life. More than a co-worker and certainly more than a handler. She was my lover. 

Billie was far more than some quick fuck. When she was in my arms I was at peace with myself for the first time in a long time. We shared everything with each other. Long walks in the park and long nights making love. I knew she was special when she fell asleep in my arms after the first time we made love. She even snored briefly. God, it was kinda sexy to me in some weird way. She was comfortable enough in my arms to relax and be herself.

I arrived at our workspace office and quietly looked inside. There she was. How do I describe her? She's fantastic. Unlike the bimbos and younger women that I often surround myself with during operations, Billie was a real woman. She was all woman, and she knew how to treat a man. Of course that was my downfall. I could feel the uneasy sensation of my stomach tightening as I stood there in the hallway looking at her.

We both got to the point that we were fearful that we'd become too close and jeopardize the operation. Fortunately our foul-up wasn't unrecoverable. But it was enough to send us scrambling into repair mode. We knew we were getting too close. We knew we shouldn't but for some reason we couldn't avoid letting our attraction for each other surface. And god did it surface. It boiled to the top in waves of passion.

She was busy digging through files and sorting materials for this new operation. From the hall I could smell that familiar scent she wears. It brought back a wave of memories that I needed to control. Her short brown hair was even shorter than I remember and she had added some highlights. The form fitting, dark blue jacket expressed her curves beautifully. The skirt was just long enough to meet FBI standards but when she sat down it drifted up to show off her legs. I remembered those legs. Touching them, kissing them, and exploring every angle. Yeah. I stood there for several moments drinking in the sight of her. God it had been far too long a time.




Liar



She finally became aware of the fact that someone was watching her. But I wasn't just watching. I was lusting after her. I wanted those memories. I wanted to feel her in my arms again. She turned to look at me leaning against the doorframe watching her. Expressionless she got up and walked toward me.

I so wanted to reach out and grip her in my arms; to feel her warm loving body against mine. But instead of the sweet reunion I was daydreaming about, it was far less pleasurable. Without speaking she reached up and slapped me; cold across the cheek. 

"I don't care if they fire me for slapping a superior. Fire me if you want, you son of a bitch." She spoke methodically without expression. I didn't know which was more painful, the slap or the words she used.

"Billie, you got it all wrong." I tried.

She held her hand out in front of me with the universal sign for 'stop right there', "Don't even try. I don't want to hear it." She turned away and walked back toward her desk.

"Come on baby, you know that it's what I do." I begged, following her into the room. "I didn't have any control over this. They shipped me off to San Antonio for the last year and a half." I pleaded my case.

"Spare me!" She stated abruptly. The facade of her calm, metered speech was gone momentarily. Now she was speaking as a woman rejected and not an agent. Her voice even cracked with a hint of a possible tear. The kink in her armor was there. I knew had to exploit it quickly or she'd forever be gone.

"Rosebud. You know they watch my every action during an op. I couldn't just send you an email from my cell. They'd know in a heartbeat that I was trying to contact you." I knew my begging was getting me nowhere right now. But she was going to break. It's what I do.

She stood resolute at her desk with her arms pulled in around her own waist, trying to maintain composure. I quickly closed the distance between us, knowing the first brick in her wall of separation showed a sign of cracking. I drew myself up behind her and wrapped my arms around her from behind, enveloping her for a moment. My face moved in alongside her ear and I kissed her earlobe gently, letting my tongue flick softly at her earring.

Billie shoved me back and shook me off like she was ridding herself of a winter coat. An ugly old wool one at that. It was clear that I haven't won this battle. But I knew it would take time.

"We've got work to do so if this is going to be a problem, say it now. I'm sure they can find a handler that would enjoy handling you." Her soft, broken voice was gone and just like that she was back to all business.

"Gee, as I recall, you enjoyed handling me." I tried humor this time. Maybe I could break her with a lighter approach.

"Damn it Max. You don't know how to take anything seriously, do you?" She snarled.

"Okay. No. We can make this work." I took a step back and moved toward one of the other desks in the room.

"Ahem." The sound of a throat clearing at the door broke us both from the conversation we were having and back to work. "Is this a bad time?"

"What is it Ross?" Billie shot in full out agent voice.

"I have the keys to the vehicle you requested." Ross replied as he offered Billie a keychain. 

"Thanks. Ross, this is Max. Max Wright." Billie introduced coldly as she took the keys.

"Agent Wright. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Ross. First name or last?" I asked as I took his outstretched hand. He had a fairly firm grip, but he was just a kid so I'll give him room for potential maturity.

"Last name, sir." Ross shot back crisply. "Adrian Ross."

"Ross is our research and data analyst for this one." Billie instructed.

I looked him over for a moment. I guess I'm starting to realize my age when the analysts look more like my kids than my peers. He looked back at me. I could almost hear his brain say to himself, 'god, he's as old as my dad.'

"When you two are done sizing each other up, we've got work to do. Ross, you know the drill. We'll send data to you on the fly. Right now we've got an appointment." Billie stated.

"Where we going?" I asked, hoping that she'd take me with her.

"We're going to meet the informant that started this op." 



______________________________

MEETING THE MARK

We pulled off the highway to the stop sign and turned into the State Park. Driving the three miles in to the picnic areas, the sun flickered from time to time through the heavy tree laden woods. Light shown through in rich shades of green from the moss covered rocks to the fresh growth on the trees. There was just a hint of possible rain which may have been the cause for fewer people in the park.

"Why here?" I asked as I drove through the winding road, scanning the parking lots and stopping points for any evidence of our contact.

"She's worried that she'll be seen. She's still a bit skittish about talking with the feds." Billie replied, barely looking up from her pile of files. "Here. This is who we're looking for." She handed me a grainy 8x10 that was obviously taken by a surveillance camera.

"So what's her story?" 

"She escaped from one of the sex trafficking operations run by Quinn. She was forced to work at a massage parlor in Bridgeville, PA. We shut that operation down last year. In the process she was able to escape Quinn. Now she's living with some extended family members in Morgantown." Billie was back to her usual self. Cool, crisp, and professional. Never letting anyone get too close.

She glanced up and pointed. "Take that branch road over there. We'll loop around the picnic park. That's where she told me she'd be."

I took the right hand turn onto a narrow, windy road that led through thicker woods. Every few hundred feet there were pull in points with picnic tables, grill boxes, and trash cans provided by the park service. The place was vacant today. Just remnants of previous parties; a bunch of balloons taped to a tree, indicating where the party had been.

The road went through a denser group of trees and turned a corner before we noticed a car parked in a pull off spot. I backed into a similar spot on the other side of the street. In the deep woods it felt much later in the day than it was. Four o'clock sun in these woods felt more like eight. 

I flashed my lights three times. A young woman got out of the car. Billie got out of the jeep and greeted her. The women moved slowly while talking; eventually sitting at the picnic table that was located just behind the Jeep. I couldn't see much through the rear view mirror, but I could tell our informant was afraid. She kept glancing around to see if anyone was watching. But the place was desolate.

Billie jotted down some notes before the two got up. A few moments later our informant tugged her windbreaker around her and scurried off toward her car. I watched the car drive off as the rear passenger door of the Jeep opened. Billie got in and tugged a briefcase out of the rear storage area. She sat in the back seat with the door open and began digging through files.

"What's up?" I asked, glancing at her through the rear view mirror.

"This is all coming into focus now. Quinn is tied to a shipping group out of Baltimore. It's sounding like they're moving women via Baltimore into DC, Philly, Pittsburgh, and Cleveland and Columbus. They work the girls for a few weeks in each city and then move them west, rotating their people every few weeks to keep fresh faces at massage parlors and upscale strip clubs. Some of the girls are held as private sex toys for Quinn's executives."

She started tossing files around, searching through things and making notes. I stepped out of the Jeep and joined her in the back seat, reading her notes as she added info to various files. After a half hour of updating notations with the new information and talking about the possible ramifications of this new info, we started packing things back into the brief case.

Billie closed her eyes and held her forehead. She clinched her eyes for a few moments, rubbing them with her fingers.

"You still have the neck problems?" I inquired.

"What do you care?" The curt reply. "It's not like you'll call to check on me or anything."

"God Billie, can't you let it go. I thought about you all the time I was on assignment." I pleaded again. This time, I wasn't trying to play her. Hell, that approach wasn't working anyway. Since nothing else was working, maybe honesty was worth a try.

"Okay, yeah, I get it. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it. But you could have found a way." She spoke softly, solemnly.

"I know I should have. I'm such a screw up sometimes." Maybe it was the first genuine thing I had said to her today. I glanced away, out the open door on my side of the rear seat. "You know what a louse I can be. I always have good intentions but rarely pull off good results."

That's when I felt it. Her hand softly caressed the back of my head. There was an instant wave of calm that shot through me. She always had that effect on me. No matter how stressed I'd get she had a way of relaxing me. She just has that way about her.

I'd be uptight and stressed in a slow line getting coffee at a Starbucks when she'd look me straight in the eye and calm me. Not so much with her words, but with her presence. I'd get tongue tied and stressed about some issue we'd be talking about and she'd softly put her hand on my arm. That's all it took. The warmth of her melts any stress I can muster.

"You still got it rosebud." I whispered.

"You can be such a shithead at times." Her hand that was gently caressing my head gave me a playful shove. And in that moment, I knew we'd be okay.

I looked over at her. She was staring at me. She did that a lot. Sometimes it freaked me out a bit. But she'd just stare at me. Almost as if she was examining me; studying my weaknesses to be documented, categorized, and put in a database for later retrieval when she needed it. She knew me better than I knew myself at times. It was scary how quickly she could read my mood, my mind, and my desires.

Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me. Her full, fleshy lips pressed against mine and I couldn't resist her. I took her mouth, instantly realizing the passion was still there. Her tongue dug deeply into my mouth. I gripped the back of her head and held her to me, not wanting to let go of the moment. Her short, razor cut hair style she wore felt soft against my hand.

She paused sitting back and smiling; satisfied at her own forwardness. I couldn't help myself. I slid my hand across her cheek and let my thumb caress her skin. The warmth of her head and neck in my hand was intoxicating. I was hungry for her. I had been alone for so long.

I wanted her. It wasn't the lust and passion of a quick fuck. Hell, I could find a 'no strings attached' quickie if I wanted that. But that's not what I wanted at all. No I wanted HER. I wanted all of her. Her friendship, her passion, her confidence, her subtle softness, her caring, and hell yes, her body. I wanted it all; the whole package. I wanted that feeling back. The feeling of wanting her and knowing she wanted me back.

Within moments we were passionately probing each other, making up for the lost time that had slipped though our fingers over the long separation of my last assignment.

Coming up for air, I glanced around to see if anyone was in the area. Still desolate. Thank god. So I dove back in. I threw my arms around her and held her tightly. "God what you do to me!" I exclaimed to her in somber confession.

I knew she felt the same way, the moment I felt her hand grip between my legs. My cock had filled and was forcing its way out one side of my boxers. She fumbled at my pants for a moment, obviously having a problem getting them undone. I helped her without breaking the kiss that barely had paused once since the moment she leaned forward to me.

She impatiently shoved her hand down my pants. Suddenly the warmth of her hand gripped my cock with such gentle attention that my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My pants were being pulled down my hips. I don't know if it was her, or me, or both of us that were ripping my pants down my thighs. 

I sat back to raise my hips and tug my pants down further when the sudden rush of warmth engulfed my cock. Her mouth slid down around me with passion that could melt steel.

I ran my fingers through her hair as she took me in and began sucking. The movement of her head in my hand was sultry enough but the sensation of her wet lips on my manhood nearly gave me a heart attack. I massaged at her shoulders and then down her back. Feeling her soft skin in my fingers was a pleasing sensation. 

Like two teenagers after the prom, I started groping her ass in my hand. My fingers explored her and probed beneath her, searching for the gentle valley created by her ass cheeks. She was warm in all the right places. And hot in the most right place.

"I have to taste you!" I demanded. She raised up with momentary shock. I rarely am that blatant about my wants sexually. But it was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. My desire for her had been building and was about to explode. 

She gave me a wry grin, that expression told me she wanted my mouth on her. Sliding down into the rear passenger seat she tugged at her skirt, raising it above her hips and exposing herself to me. The leopard print panties seemed completely out of context with her 'business only' suit and exterior. But I loved it. Her eyes caught mine as I looked up at her from seeing her unique choice in undergarments. I still hold that sight in my memory for cold nights; it warms me so well.

I pulled at her waistband and yanked them to her ankles. Kneeling in the driver's side, rear foot well, I didn't waste any time. The demand for a taste of her was quickly fulfilled. She was wet and warm and wonderful. The taste of her on my mouth sent my heart rate soaring. From the sounds of her guttural response, she wanted it too.

With long, licking strokes I ate her. Tasting her, probing her, teasing her and occasionally penetrating her with my tongue she squirmed beneath me. She raised her legs, letting her hips rock upward to accept my mouth. The whole time she continued staring at me, running her fingers through my hair. It was her way. So I looked into her eyes as I drew her labia into my mouth and gently suckled on her. 

I knew she loved that. But she loved something else more. I started sucking her labia into my mouth as completely as possible. Her mouth opened; part groan part smile. She loved it a bit rough. Not so rough as to be painful, but she loved that I would suck firmly on her labia.

I glanced up to see her gaze. Her mouth was a bit agape in pleasure. The wanton expression on her face told me that it was what she wanted too. I crawled up her body to kiss her. For a moment I wondered if she could taste herself on my tongue. I could feel her thighs pressing against my hips as I pressed into her; on top of her. I couldn't resist any longer. 

Selfishly I pressed my cock against her wetness. I could feel her mouth widened a bit more as I penetrated her. So I kissed her even more deeply. The sensation of plunging into her left me speechless. Her hands gripped my hips and drew me into her as our tongues danced against each other. 

I couldn't bear to move in and out of her because I knew that if I did I'd release too soon. I wanted the moment and the feeling to last forever. 'God, don't let this stop.' I muttered to myself. 

Billie's hips began to rock in motion with me. A wry grin crossed her face as she twisted beneath me to get a better angle. But I knew her. I knew what she wanted. She was twisting because this angle wasn't satisfying to her. She needed to be in control. 

"You want on top of me?" I whispered in her ear.

She didn't reply audibly. She just shook her head. I slid myself out of her with mild disappointment. My wet cock felt cool in the air without her surrounding me. Yet I knew that what was coming would be just as wonderful.

I sat in the center of the back seat and Billie climbed quickly on top of me. Her knees spread her body as they knelt on the seat to either side of me. She reached behind her and guided my cock to her luscious center. Then she dropped down onto me in one full stroke. She sucked in a gasp of air as she took me into her body. Her full breasts still protected by layers of FBI approved clothing began to bounce in my face as she rode me. 

She raised up and down onto her knees, dropping firmly on me with each stroke. Her hands gripped the rear seat headrests on either side of me like handlebars giving leverage. Within moments she leaned forward to kiss me while firmly rocking her hips on my lap. 

Like a wild itch that had to be scratched she rode me, grinding her hips into mine until she came. I held her ass in my hands, enjoying the fluid movements of her hips. When she came her whole body collapsed onto me. Her body temperature shifted and her skin quickly became clammy with sweat.

Knowing she had been satisfied, I couldn't hold back any longer. I pushed upward and she fell to the passenger side again. The moment her back hit the seat I started and I didn't stop until I had what I wanted. 

She gripped my face and braced herself as I took her. It had been so long. I wanted her so completely that I couldn't stop. Then it struck; that wonderful moment when a guy knows he's about to climax approached like a welcomed friend. I let my face fall to hers and began kissing her., knowing I wanted her kiss to share my climax. My body clinched and became rigid as my cock leapt inside her, releasing months of pent up sexual frustration into her body.

I fell into her arms as she gently caressed the back of my head that drifted to her shoulder. 

It was only then that we realized that the windows of the Jeep were steamed up beyond recognition. The rear seat next to us was covered in sweat. We were both drenched. The haze of our sweat mixed with the smell of our sex hung heavy in the air. 

In quietness we took our places again. Gasping for air I opened the door on my side of the rear seat to let the steam out; or let fresh air in. Either way, it was greatly needed.

I glanced over at her and there she was; staring at me again. We held each other's sight before we both broke into laugher. 

"God, did we really just do that?" Billie asked while gasping for air.

"Musta been us. We're quite a pair." I whispered as I tugged my pants back on. Redressed, I reached over to kiss her. Our faces still shimmering from the dampness of the air, I could taste the salty sweat of her lips. There was an awkward feeling to the moment, but a complete sense of satisfaction with each other.

Billie opened her door too and the rush of air that passed through the back seat was refreshing. The cool air against my sweat soaked shirt clung to my back causing a sudden chill. But then again the chill may have been the refreshing thought that I had once again experienced the touch of Billie's love.

Stepping out of the Jeep I straightened my clothes. I raised the tail gate and searched for a moment through the piles of left over items of operations past. Grabbing a rag that was shoved in next to the spare tire, I returned and wiped down the back seat. Billie stepped out on her side and moved to the rear of the Jeep to finish straightening her skirt. 

I returned to the back of the Jeep and opened the hatch next to the spare tire to throw the rag back. Billie crept up behind me and put her arm around my waist. She held me from behind for a moment. I softly put my hand over her clenched hands in front of me. "Are you sorry that happened?" She asked.

I paused for a moment. Not that I didn't already know my answer, but because I was enjoying her embrace too much. "Are you kidding? You know I'm no good on my own." I said quietly after a moment. 




Liar



"If you ever disappear on me again, I'll shoot you. As a Federal agent, I have to warn you that I own a gun!" She said before slapping my ass and walking back to the passenger seat.



______________________________

INFILTRATION

The glare of the steel and glass building in downtown Pittsburgh was blinding for a moment as a sliver of morning sun pierced between the towers. One Gateway Center eclipsed the surrounding buildings with it's cold and dominating presence.

Like any Monday morning in a big city, the hectic pace of people heading to work, delivering packages, and preparing for another week swirled around me. It had rained earlier and the sidewalks still had that damp, musty smell.

It was day four of the op and I was past the pleasantries of getting to know the staff where I was now 'employed'. It wasn't out of the ordinary for a large company like Quinn's to have short term contractors like myself working in their facility. 

I flashed the temporary badge at the security check point and stepped onto the escalator to the mezzanine Light from the six story atrium flooded the space casting reflective glare on the passengers as they moved up from floor to floor. The elevators to upper floors of the building could only be accessed from the mezzanine level. 

Gliding along I leaned against the black plastic railing and glanced back down the long line of employees behind me. I saw Jessica at a distance. She had just passed security and was heading for the escalator as well. Shifting the shoulder strap of her brief case to a more secure spot, she gripped the escalator railing and looked up. Seeing me, she flashed that fantastic smile of hers and waved. I don't normally go for blonds but she could be the exception.

"Jessica!" I called out, echoing through the atrium. "Looking great as always!" Jim Newton was a bit more boisterous than my normal self. I had played this character before and found it easy to be the loud mouth, know it all, consultant named Jim.

She blushed a bit and threw me the hand signal for 'wait a minute'. Stepping off the escalator I moved to one side and let others pass by. 

"I had the most incredible weekend." She started. Most of the conversations Jessica started were nothing more than just a continuation of the last conversation you had with her. She probably didn't even stop while you were gone. "We went down into the mountains of West Virginia and did some shooting!" She rambled on.

Every time we talked photography, Jessica bubbled. She was hooked and hooked good. She loved every part of it. Somehow people who are into photography can identify each other. You can also quickly identify the difference between those who are real photographers and those who have a point and shoot. Models refer to those guys as GWC, or "guy with camera". 

But Jessica was far beyond that. She understood the basics and was really wanting to learn. It was my open door to get to know her and gain her trust. How else would I be able to access her computer for the intel we needed?

"Show me yours and I'll show you mine." I briskly replied in my best 'Jim' voice. Hopefully she'd show me on that laptop she was carrying around. And of course if I was lucky she'd show me a bit more.

"Let's do lunch. I want your opinion on a couple of them. I just love, love, love the ones we took that have a waterfalls and an old water wheel mill in the background. They're just the bomb." 

"Great. Text me when you want to head out." I replied, knowing that she really would; if she remembered. Other staff at Quinn's office complex referred to her as 'The Blond Lighthouse'. They explained it by saying that her attention span was as short as the beam of a light house hitting you. But wait for it, she'll come around again soon.

Four hours of digging through records and financial statements later, my eyes were glossing over. While I had a background in business, this was a bit more specific. Luckily all I had to do was fake it well. I was sending much of the data to a true accountant team back at BDO's offices. They were making me look pretty good. The early findings that I offered Quinn's executives seemed to make them happy.

I was just preparing an email with another bundle of information to send over to BDO's offices when I sensed someone at the door. Spinning around in the office chair, I could see Jessica through the glass panel that paralleled the door. 

She really was hot; short skirts, tanned legs, sweet smile. But there was something missing. She was just a kid. I much prefer women. God! Just like that, there she was again. Billie was in my brain, making it hard to concentrate as usual.

"Jim!" Jessica tapped on the door while opening it. "Is this a good time?"

"Sure is." I said as I hit the send button. I watched as the file went from the outbox to the sent box. Closing the laptop I was using, I started to stand up when several staff members entered pushing a cart.

"Hope you don't mind, but I brought lunch. For some reason getting in and out of the building has been frustrating lately."

"No, this is great." I said a bit confused. "What's the issue with leaving?"

"Security goes a bit nuts when I go through the lines anymore. Seems like every time I leave they want to examine my company laptop. They take it to the desk and run it through a scanner just about every time."

"Really? They haven't even looked at my computer." I replied.

"The told me that since I was the boss's wife, there might be people who would try to steal my data thinking they might get company secrets. There aren't any secrets on this laptop. Just photos from my hiking trips. Adam can be a little security obsessed at times. So I don't keep anything of any importance on this little box." She gently patted her macbook air that she cradled like a loved child.

"You can never be too careful. We are talking about millions of dollars in transactions every day." I chimed in as I cleared a work table for our lunch.

"Oh, Jim, millions a day is only the division you're looking at." She said with a devilish grin. She headed for the work table as two staff members started their preparation.

I chuckled as I pulled out a chair for her. "Guess you're right. Should I worry that I'm having lunch with the bosses wife?" I tried to make light of the situation to relax her as well as keep my 'Jim' bravado going. As I pushed her chair forward I glanced down her blouse for a moment. Gorgeous, shapely breasts were free floating in silk and satin. 'Maybe I could get into that shirt too.' I whimsically thought. 

Looking down her blouse was only for the act of 'being Jim' in this op. I actually wanted her to notice that move. It was in keeping with the character and personality I had created for Jim. But to be honest with myself, I created that character because Jessica was so damn hot.

The staff swirled around Jessica as if she were royalty. Lunch was more than just a brown bag. They brought on the dog. Linen napkins and Fiestaware table settings, perfectly plated a modern Mexican cuisine. They even had a bouquet of fresh flowers as a centerpiece.

Taking a seat next to Jessica I unfolded my napkin and shook it before laying it across my lap. "So Jessica tell me about this photo trip! It just sounds so exciting."

As lunch progressed I was surprised by Jessica's knowledge of photography. I truly didn't expect that she would be this far progressed in her artistic style as well as her technical understanding of photography. She pulled out the laptop and started displaying dozens of gorgeous photos. Many landscapes and several professional shots of her flashed across her screen.

But even more surprising than her knowledge of photography was her pleasant company. She was more than a vacant, blond bomb shell. She was witty, charming, and well read. She may be a trophy wife but she was an intelligent trophy wife.

All through lunch she let the laptop display her photos. I gave occasional commentary and offered suggestions along the way. She was pretty talented. The pictures of her modeling were pretty hot too. She blushed a couple of times when a few topless shots flashed by the screen.

"Okay, I gotta ask." I started. But I paused. 'Maybe I'm jumping the gun. I'm not under a time limit on this op so don't push too soon.' I thought.

"What?" She took another bite of the black beans that had been served. "You were going to say?"

"Well, maybe it's not my place to ask, so forget it." I muttered taking a sip of cola.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. What's a girl like this doing with Adam?" She mocked.

She caught me off guard. Guess she's far brighter than I gave her credit for. Maybe it's a bit misogynistic of me, but I didn't imagine she would have such depth and insight based on the bio sheet the FBI had given me.

"Okay, so yeah. What's with Adam?" I asked as I sat back in my seat and folded my arms.

"I get it a lot, so don't worry about it." She grinned as she fell back in her seat, mirroring my stance. "He's good to me. I've led a wild life and when I met Adam, he surprised me. Unlike the guy's I've dated and married previously, he treats me like a woman. He's kind, and thoughtful, and tender in ways I didn't expect."

I leaned forward and took my utensils again. Picking at the food in front of me I continued, "It's not my place to judge. It's just that there's such an age difference that you gotta admit, you make people wonder." 

"Oh, yeah, I'm the trophy wife." She tugged her hair to one side and leaned over to take another bite of food.

Her cell phone buzzed with a text message. She glanced for a moment with an edge of disgust. "Of course the problem with Adam is that he can be pretty controlling at times. Excuse me, I have to take this." She took her phone and headed to a nearby vacant office to take the call. Most likely Adam, checking on her.

Quickly I turned her laptop around and pulled out a miniature backup drive and plugged it into the firewire port. The pre-programmed drive began pulling files from her laptop as quickly as the hardware would permit. 

Shoving the drive back into my pocket with time to spare, Jessica re-entered the room. 

"Im really sorry, but Adam is demanding my presence to greet some executives from DC. They're only about three hours early." She closed her laptop and began pulling her things together to leave.

"Well, thank you for lunch." I offered as I stood to say good bye.

"Rain check?" She asked.

"Sure. Maybe you'd give me permission to shoot you sometime. I'd love to take a shot at capturing your eyes.

She grinned and agreed but wasn't giving me a date for a shoot. She was hot and she knew it. She loved using that knowledge to her advantage too.





______________________________

DEBRIEFING

Billie texted me. Three text messages in a row. "buzz." "buzz." "buzz." It was simple code for 'are you free to talk.' 

I couldn't help myself. I texted back to her, "I keep my phone in my front pocket and knew it was you. It's on vibrate." "Can you do that three more times? I'm so close to cumming."

"buzz." "buzz." "buzz." "buzz." "buzz." I could tell she was angry at my sarcasm by her responding five times.

"God, I only asked for three! You're insatiable sometimes!!!" I replied back.

"Shithead" she sent.

I grinned as I put my phone back in my pocket. There was a knock at the hotel room door. I opened it and there she stood, furious with me. "God damn it Max, can't you be serious for just one minuet of your entire life?"

"I am. This is a cell phone in my pocket .... and yes, I am glad to see you too." I love edging her on. She knows she loves it too but always gives me that look of disgust.

"Cut it out, Max!" She demanded. "What do you have for me?"

"It's right here in my front pocket." I winked at her as I spoke, only to be on the receiving end of yet another slap across the face.

I recovered my composure and pulled the micro drive out of my front pocket. Raising it to display it to her, she covered her mouth. "Fuck, you were being serious!"

"Very." I muttered as I rubbed my cheek. Okay, it didn't really hurt, but I didn't want her to know that.

"Did you find anything?" She asked.

I walked over to the desk in the hotel suite and opened my laptop. Plugging it in again and calling up the data, I showed her. "I got nothing!" I exclaimed. 

Billie sat down and began digging through the files, searching file names and sub directories. But there wasn't much there. Just contact lists, a few records, plans for an upcoming charity gala, and hundreds of photos.

"Well, looks like you're going to have to keep your 'date' with her for shooting." She muttered, closing the laptop lid.

She stood up and grabbed her purse to go. But she wasn't getting out of there that easily. I took her arm as passed by me and pulled her to me. Our bodies clashed together like cymbals in a parade. The impact vibrated through our bodies. 

I threw my arms around her waist and squeezed. The feeling of the small of her back in my hand, pressing her torso to mine was electrifying. Without asking she began kissing me. Without asking, I kissed back. The feel of her lips against mine shook the facade of professionalism from my being.

Billie was wearing street clothes while undercover. The feeling of her spring weight sweater in my hand as it gripped the small of her back was soft and sensual. It was the feeling of the real Billie that I knew and had fallen for. Not the 'all business' FBI agent with the strong character and sharp demeanor. 

In my arms, she was a woman. While I loved the feel of that sweater, I much prefer the feel of her flesh. My hand slid up under the hem and I touched her skin; gently at first but with increasing intensity. 

A hand suddenly gripped my ass and my mouth that was kissing her expressed a smile. I opened my eyes to find she was staring at me again. Her constant inquisition can be a bit intimidating at times. But I know this woman better than she thinks I do. 

Billie can't help herself. She over thinks everything. Even in moments of intimacy she's investing far too much energy in probing for information, playing out possibilities, and running potential outcomes of varied scenarios. 

"Stop thinking about it and make love to me." I whispered.

We had this talk before. Billie isn't a woman who wants a one night stand or a quick fuck. Making love to Billie is time consuming. You have to invest yourself in it completely or you'll fall short. She wants to be romanced and enjoyed. She desires a sexual partner where there's an affinity for one another, not just lust. Intimacy can have a crass side of carnal knowledge or a loving side of intense self disclosure. 

She would never let a man just fuck her. She needed a man who would reveal himself to her, unveiling his real self before she would find herself desiring him physically.

She knew me. She knew that I was a typical man who was driven by sight, sound, and touch. But she knew that I wanted her so deeply that I would give her what she wanted before even asking for the privilege of making love to her.

In our first conversation about sex, she asked me to tell her the difference between having sex and making love. My first thought was to blow some smoke and tell her what I thought she wanted to hear. But instead I had a strange moment of honesty.

Men can be so mechanical at times. Having sex can be nothing more than letting off pent up sexual anxiety. It can almost be a subconscious act of physical aggression. But truly making love to a woman is a lot more difficult. It requires an emotional attachment.

So making love to Billie became long hours of romance, massaging her thoroughly, patient foreplay, and building an inner connection with her that gave you permission to be with her. Somewhere along the way, I began enjoying the erotic emotion of building that connection as much as I did the consummation of the investment.

The results were astounding. She let go of her inhibitions and our intimacy had a sexual freedom that I can't truly explain.

But my months in San Antonio under dark cover had distanced us. Maybe she harbored frustration with me for being away. Maybe she was having moments of moral reflection over our little affair. Or maybe she had found another lover. I don't know. But I vowed to have her back.

I held her at that moment not thinking about getting laid, but about wanting her back in my life; at any cost. For a moment she braced herself as if to say she was trying to be strong and break away from my grip. But suddenly she melted in my arms.

The memory of her taste and feel came rushing through my brain as I pulled her sweater off of her torso. She didn't stop me. She even aided me. The moment her sweater came over her head, she quickly grabbed my face and began kissing me again. I knew at that moment that our deep connection was still there. Damaged from distance and time, but still very much alive.

Knowing she had given me permission, I unbuckled her belt and fumbled at her jeans while she unbuttoned my dress shirt and started tugging it off my body. 


She sat down on the bed behind her tugging at her tight pant legs, yanking them over her ankles. I hovered over her unfastening her bra in the back and freeing her breasts. 

"Oh god," she muttered, frustrated that in her haste she couldn't get her jeans off fast enough. I grinned with delight knowing she was showing signs of excitement at the anticipation of being with me. 

She finally struggled off her jeans and looked up at me as I stood in front of her. Unfastening my pants, she tugged them down to my ankles. I stepped up closer to her as she took the bulge in my boxers in her hand. She looked up at me with those wanton eyes as if to be asking permission. 

Then returning to her task, she tugged my boxers down and gripped my sex in her hands. The warmth of her mouth as it slowly engulfed me was utterly absorbing. I let my hand rest on her head to share the movement of her as she began sucking gently. The mild erection I had quickly grew to please her as it pleased me.

Before I knew it she was taking me in and out with slow rotating movements as her hands reached around and gripped my ass. I loved the feel of her hands on my ass. Memories of walking in the park with her hand tucked in my back pocket rushed through my brain. The wet warmth of her mouth brought sensations, feelings, and emotions that I can't explain.

But I didn't want to climax this way. I wanted much more of her. I pulled away by stepping back a bit. For a moment she looked confused, but she knew that I wasn't ending the encounter. We had been together enough to know that.

I softly pushed on her shoulders, asking her to lay back. She closed her eyes and smile knowing what was in store. Resting on the bed with her hips at the very edge, I tugged at her panties. She raised her hips and legs, permitting me to draw them away.

Tossing her panties aside, I grabbed her hips and pulled her to the very edge of the bed. Then taking her raised legs in my hands I pulled them apart. In an act of blatant exhibitionism, Billie opened herself to me. She unashamedly displayed her most intimate self to me. I drank in the moment, wanting to look at her beauty for as long as I could take it.

It wasn't long enough. I'm weak that way. I fell to my knees in worship of her, licking down along one thigh as I lowered my head between her legs. The moment my mouth touched her labia the first time, I could feel her legs spread and her hips arch upward, wanting my mouth to find all of her.

Billie truly enjoyed oral sex. It was somewhat out of character for her. But she didn't want just the soft, gentle licks and playful tongue. She also wanted hard penetrating strokes and firm, aggressive sucking. I gave her both. 




Liar



A group from my college had gone across state for a debate competition. We spent the night at a hotel, and each of us had a roommate of the same sex. The teachers were acting as chaperones, and did room checks up to 11:00. My roommate was my best friend, and she wanted to take advantage of the hotel room to get some "quality time" with her boyfriend. The plan was that he would sneak out of his room after 11:00, and I would sneak out of our room to give them a few hours together.

The hotel had a 23-hour hot tub, so I figured that I would go and soak in that while they got it on. I had been in the tub for about 10 minutes when this guy came down and joined me. He was in his upper thirties, but looked nice for his age. We talked for a while. 

I told him about the debate team and why I was there. He told me that I was going to hurt my debating if I stayed up too late, and offered to let me sleep in his room in his extra bed. I thought about it for a while and then accepted his offer, though I said I had to be back in my room in time for a wake-up call.

When I got out of the hot tub, he sort of stared at me. I was in a small bikini, and I guess I looked pretty good. I never thought of myself as super hot or anything, but I am young and in pretty good shape. He dragged his eyes off of me before it was really rude, but I noticed, and was sort of flattered by the attention.

Anyway, we went up to his room, which was a large two-bed room with a mini-fridge. He told me to take a shower, and that I could wear one of the hotel terry-cloth robes while my bikini dried. When I got out, he was watching the TV and drinking a coke out of a glass. 

He went in to the bathroom and took a shower. 

I took a sip of his drink, and I knew right away that it had rum in it. I sat there and finished his drink while flipping through the channels when he came out of the shower, also in a robe.

We turned off the TV and talked for a while, sitting side by side on one of the beds. 

He asked me if I was jealous of my roommate. I shrugged and told him that I was planning on staying a virgin until I married. I was terrified of getting pregnant. He said that he respected my judgment. 

He said that he had a daughter my age, and that he had told her that if she had sex, she should be very careful. He said that you can't tell a young person not to have sex, but that caution can save a lot of trouble, and he hoped that she would be smart about it. 

We talked a little more about sex. He started, he said, when he was eighteen, and that now he thought that was too young, and he wished he had waited.

He said, "You have to be really strong. A pretty girl like you must have a lot of chances to give in." 

I blushed and looked down so he said, "Really. You have a beautiful body. If I was your age, I'd be all over you." 

I blushed even more, and he said, "It's really cute the way your blush goes all the way down your neck and onto your shoulders. He touched my neck as he said this, and it felt sort of good. 

Then he started rubbing my shoulders, and it felt very nice. I was a buzzing a little from the drink I'd had. I guess it was pretty strong, and I never drank, so it was hitting me fairly hard. I just let him rub my shoulders. He moved behind me and kept rubbing. 

Then before I knew it, he was kissing my neck. That sent shivers all over my body. 

I could feel my nipples harden and I got goose bumps all over my body. He pulled me to where we were lying down, and pulled the robe partway down my chest and arms so that he could rub my nipples. It felt natural. All this talk of sex, had me more worked up than I had realized, and I was feeling great. He reached into the pocket of the robe he was wearing and got out a condom and set it on the bed-side table.

I said, "We won't be needing that."

He replied, "I know. Just letting you know it's there."

He was lying behind me with his right arm under my head, reaching around and rubbing my breasts with it. The left was rubbing up and down my body from my neck to my thigh. After a while, he loosened the belt on my robe, and rubbed me underneath it. 

Then he pulled the robe open and off my top arm and sort of stuffed it between us. His robe was already open. I don't remember when that happened. I could feel his skin against mine, with his erection against the small of my back. It was erotic, and he was really turning me on with his sucking on my neck and rubbing my nipples, especially the neck. Still, I felt in control. He knew my limits, and so did I.

After a while, the roaming hand reached between my legs and started rubbing my pussy. I resisted for a moment, by holding my legs together, but he managed to get his finger onto my pussy and get it wet, then rub my clit with it. That was amazing, and I soon relented. I was surprised by how wet I was. It wasn't long before I spread my legs to make it easer for him to reach. At this point, he put his cock between my legs. 

I said, "No!"

He said, "Just rub your clitoris with it. As long as you hold it, it can't go anywhere you don't want it." That made perfect sense, 

so I took hold of it and started rubbing myself with it, but it didn't feel as good as his fingers had, and I told him so. 

He said, "Of course not. It's still dry. You have to get it wet. Rub it on your lips the way I did with my fingers." I did that, and it felt a lot better, but still not as good as when he rubbed it. Meanwhile, he was rubbing both of my nipples, and that was really quite nice. 

After a while, he said, "Try this. Slide my shaft across your lips and your clitoris. That will feel better for both of us." 

So I held him so that his shaft was between my lips rubbing back and forth across them and my clit. He was doing most of the work by pushing and pulling. I wasn't really holding his cock any more. I was just sort of pressing the shaft and head against myself. 

Sometimes his head would rub my clit, and that felt really good. I could feel myself building up towards a climax.

Sometimes, he would pull so far back that his head would slide right off my clit. I didn't like that, because the constant contact felt really nice. Once, the tip of his cock hit the top of my vagina. It bumped and slid on, which felt amazing, and I sort of moaned to let him know. On the next few strokes, he bumped me there again. Then he reached his left hand down and started playing with my clit again.

I was glad, because I liked his head bumping me, and his fingers felt better on my clit anyway. At this stage, he was basically rubbing just the head of his cock up and down over my lips and bumping into the top of my vagina over and over. I was just sort of rubbing his head over my lips and pressing it to make sure it hit the top of my vagina. 

He shifted a little and, it wasn't long before the head started to go into me. That felt even better than when it was bumping, and I moaned more. Without even thinking about it, without thinking of the danger, I was pushing back at him. I was getting really, really close to coming now and that was all that was on my mind. 

That was when he pushed into me. I felt my hymen tear, and it hurt, but at the same time, I was feeling sooo good. It did bring me back to reality, however. 

I realized that I was having sex, and that I wanted to. So I reached up to where he left the condom, and grabbed it, trying to put it into his hand. He pulled partway out of me, and then pushed back in again, going deeper than before. It felt amazing. He did a couple more strokes, all the while rubbing my clit. 

I was pressing the condom into the hand that was rubbing my clit. He took it from me and tossed it onto the floor, then went back to rubbing me and slowly stroking in and out of me. 

When I think about it now, it seems like a really selfish and careless act on his part, but for some reason, at the time, discarding the condom seemed like the sexiest thing I'd ever seen and it got me really hot. 

I melted onto him as he started stroking harder and faster. In no time at all, I was coming. He held me close for a minute to let me enjoy the feeling. Then he pulled out of me and had me lay on my back and mounted me in the missionary position. I didn't say a thing, but just let him fuck me. I came a time this way before he finally came into me and I could feel his pulsing cock possibly impregnating me.

I was somewhat in awe of what we had done. I couldn't believe I had done that, and I was terribly worried about getting pregnant.

He told me not to worry. He said that a woman couldn't get pregnant her first time. I had heard that before, but it never made any sense to me. However, he sounded so sure and confident. 

Then he asked when my next period was. I told him that it was in two weeks, and he said not to worry, because I was at my safest time. I was confused about that too, because I thought that was right when I was ovulating. Still, his demeanor convinced me, and I relaxed. 

He told me that I was wonderful. 

He asked how I was. I told him that I didn't regret it. We snuggled for a while. He went and got a warm cloth and cleaned me with it. 

I loved the kindness and attention. 

I saw that I had bled a little, but nothing like a period. We lay there together for a whole, snuggling, and then did it again. This time was different. He spent a lot less time working me up, and we did it in the missionary position from the start. He came inside me again, unprotected, but I didn't come this time. 

By the time we were done, it was about 3 o'clock, and I figured it was time to go up and throw my roommate's boyfriend out.

It turned out that he had already left. I told my friend what I had done, and she was shocked. She said that she and her boyfriend 

hadn't had sex yet. They were just making out. She got me worried about being pregnant again. As a result, I didn't sleep all night and did terribly in the competition the next day.

I ended up being late. A home pregnancy test said that I was knocked up, so I went to see a doctor. The doctor told me that it was certainly possible to get pregnant your first time. In fact almost one in six women who have unprotected sex the first time get pregnant from it. He also let me know that the middle of my cycle was when I was most likely to get pregnant. He took samples from 

me, and suggested that I contact the father. I tried to find out who the guy was, but the hotel has a strict non-disclosure policy. 

Fortunately, it turned out that I wasn't pregnant. It was just a fluke. I couldn't believe how lucky I'd been.

Since that time, I have been on the pill. I am sexually active now. That first time broke the ice, and now I don't want to live without it. The experience, fear and all was worth it, even the fear of maybe being pregnant. I'm glad I didn't get pregnant but as I look back on it I can't say I would have regretted it.