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The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 01

By: schnertch



The message from Theed Montgomery had just read "need u. c me. gjs hq." It'd been a long time since I'd seen head or hide of Theed Montgomery-we'd both been rookies together in one of the first classes of the System Police Department, back when there'd been a thrill to joining an inter-planetary police force and it hadn't felt like being jackboots for the biggest strongman in history.

When our shifts were over we'd always get a drink at Farrell's over on Zeus Ave in the Olympus section of New Angeles, Mars and then go back to one or the other's apartment to fuck ourselves into forgetting what we'd seen on patrol. It'd been a pretty good arrangement, actually. Theed had been the one who'd convinced me to get my tits done. Well, at the time they'd just been breasts, but once the doc had gotten through with them, they'd been transformed into a perfect pair of tits, ballooned up to an unbelievably perky 34D, which is the only giveaway I wasn't born with them. I've seen some of that antique pornography where the girls have had their chests practically butchered with scars under the breasts or the nipples, and their breasts are square or there are divots in the skin when they're getting fucked doggy style. I guess you could say I'm pretty glad for the advances in gene therapy since then. Well, for the most part. For every pair of excellent tits science produces, there's some psycho who's found a back alley sawbones to give him claws or giant insect wings or something. 

Anyway, it never occurred to me that Theed would want me for a job. When we'd left the SPD, I'd gone into private investigation and Theed had gone into corporate security. If he'd wanted me for something more than a good old times booty call, he could've called in the intervening five years. Or at least put more into his message. 

And anyhow, I was pretty fucking horny for a fucking. My vibe and hands and personal thoughts weren't doing it for me. Yeah, I knew I could just go to a neuro den, jack in and get off on a pleasure sim, and my body wouldn't even know the difference, but it'd always felt hollow afterwards to me, and besides, I don't trust those places. The Vice Squad guys used to tell stories about what the more unethical clerks were caught doing to their customers while they poor saps were still in netstate. 

What I wanted was a real live cock attached to a real live man.

With the information I'd been given, I slipped into something a little less comfortable, a pair of thigh-high black leather boots with five-inch heels on them, black lace panties and an open-cup bra. Since I still had to get from Point A (my office in the beatdown Little India neighborhood) and Point B, the GalaxJonesStein Headquarters in downtown New Angeles, I pulled on my red leather trenchcoat and the matching homburg. A Professor of Video Game Studies at Elon Musk University once told me I looked exactly like the old character Carmen Sandiego in my trench. I dunno who that is, but she must be fierce.

The attendant in the autocab I flagged down stared at me when I got in, and I considered flashing him a shot of my panties, but instead I just graciously declined to pay the additional twenty Unifieds to have him mix me an in-trip drink. The ride to downtown from my office took about fifteen minutes, during which I studiously read the news on my optical implant while the attendant kept shooting glances at my chest. 

Just for shits and giggles, and because reading long screeds by the Dictator's propaganda machine got a little boring, at one point I told him it was too hot in the cab, but rather than having him adjust the heat, I just asked to borrow an ice cube from him. I sucked it into my mouth for a moment, then took it back out and rubbed it around my neck and then across the tops of my tits, causing them to glisten and sparkle like they were leaves with the morning dew on them. 

"Thanks," I said, handing back the mostly melted ice cube back to the speechless attendant. "That's much better." And then I went back to reading the news until we got downtown.

GalaxJonesStein had built a great big tower to house their whole operation, back when land on Mars was cheap and there weren't so many regulators who wouldn't look the other way on some questionable allowances on the code. I'd heard they had an actual alien they'd bought from the old US government's Area 51 base in the basement, which was where so many of their breakthroughs came from. That said, you never met anyone who'd seen the alien, or met anyone who'd met anyone who'd seen the alien, so I was pretty doubtful it was true. But there was security like it was.

"You a visitor?" asked the guard at the door. He reminded me of a baboon: beady eyes, big nose, and nothing but upper-body work. That said, few baboons were packing this much heat. I'd seen less artillery on the whole SPD SWAT team than on this guy. "Tours are only on Wednesday and Thursday."

"I have a meeting. Sare Jeffries, to see Theed Montgomery," I said.

He looked at me doubtfully, and muttered something into the communicator hanging off his ear. I made an attempt to go on past him, but he stiff armed me, mashing a hand into my boob.

"Ow," I said. "That fucking hurt."

"They're sending someone down," he said, ignoring my suffering. "We can't just have anyone wandering around the Headquarters. We do a lot of sensitive work for the Mars government, you know."

"I know," I said. The coziness between the Mars Provisional Authority and GJS was well documented in the few independent press sites that GJS hadn't managed to buy or stamp out. 

I was wondering how long I'd have to stand out here while this gorilla with a gun and a flimsy bit of tin that passed as a badge regarded me like I was some criminal scum, when one of the most delightful creatures I've ever seen pushed open the door. She was curves stacked on curves with a tower of blonde hair arrayed precariously on her head. Her frilly blue skirt was voluminous, but not enough to hide the roundness of her rump. She wore one of those 2nd Skin-shirts that were popular these days, the fabric was an opaque white, but it hugged her like, well, like a second skin I suppose, leaving nothing to the imagination. It was tight enough that it pushed her breasts up against her like a sports bra, but without the even flattening across the front, so that each breast was present in fine relief against her frame. Even the outline of her areolae were defined. Fashion just keeps getting better.

"M. Jeffries?" she said. "M. Montgomery will see you now."

I gave M. Army of One Baboon a satisfied smiled and slipped past him and the girl at the door, making sure I was able to brush up against the front of her to feel how soft her chest was. Not as big as mine, sure, but still nothing to cough at. 

She extended a hand. "I'm M. Montgomery's personal assistant, Peppy."

"I'll bet," I said, shaking her hand. She gave me a smile and asked me to follow her into an elevator, turning her back to me. She was smuggling an entire fruit stand under her skimpy dress. I wasn't sorry to follow her. 

At this point, I should've realized Theed didn't need me on a booty call, if this was what was scampering about his office every day, but the truth was I'd kind of worked myself up on the cab ride over with the attendant trying to sneak glances down my chest and riding with Peppy in the elevator wasn't helping any.

The elevator took us straight into Theed's private office. Peppy held the door as I stepped out and glanced around. She took her hand away, smiling at me as the door closed. The numbers above the elevator descended by one.

Theed Montgomery sat behind what looked to be a real oak desk, not the GenOak the one in my office was made of. They claimed GenOak was as good as the real thing, but I swore I could smell the difference real wood from Earth made. Or maybe it was just Theed's cologne. The office was upholstered in the sort of throwback to World War 2 era style that was popular in the corporate world these days. It wasn't Theed's style, though.

He'd hardly aged a day since I saw him last. A week's stubble clung to his cheeks and chin, the red clashing with his short cropped brown hair, like he still needed to get it buzzed down when we were in the SPD. His suit was tailored and I could see he was in better shape now than in the academy. You could tell he'd been in the police because his idea of formal clothing included a tie, standard issue on our dress blues. No one else wore them, except actors doing movies set in the 20th century.

"Sare," he began, but stopped dead when I shrugged out of my trench and discarded the homburg. I'm not afraid to admit I'm in rather good shape myself. Flat belly, shapely legs, and an ass you could bounce coins off of, if you can still find a coin to bounce. Plus the gene therapy enhanced tits. Theed certainly seemed to like it. His eyes ran my whole length, pausing slightly as he drank in full my lips and heavy breasts with their long pink nipples.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered.

I strode behind his desk and smiled down at him. I teased my left nipple with my hand.

"Like what you see?"

"I do." I lifted one booted leg into his chest, and pushed him away from the desk a little. He wasn't lying; there was a tenting in his pants that confirmed how much he was enjoying my body. I eased him out of the suit jacket while he undid his tie.

I sank to my knees in front of him, undoing the clasps that held his pants on, smiling up at him as I dragged the process out, only pulling his pants down a little, until they were just below his ass, and pushing his shirt up a little at the bottom.

"I'll bet you make that piece of tail in the elevator do this to you every day," I said.

"Only sometimes," he allowed. 

"If I were your 'personal assistant' I'd be in here personally assisting you every day," I teased. I slipped my hand into his underwear, which I was surprised to find was silk. But I was more surprised at what I found under it.

"Holy shit," I said. "This is different." I pulled his pants down to his ankles along with his underwear and drew his cock out into the light.

Theed Montgomery had always been a rather big man. He'd been seven fantastic inches when I'd had him, and thick, too. But what he was working with now was ten inches and nearly as wide as a door knob. It was fully erect, jutting up into the air as I failed to close my hand around it.

"Like what you see?" he asked, grinning down at me. 

"The private sector's been good to you," I said, stroking slowly up his shaft.

Theed chuckled. "It has indeed. Not as good as you, though." 

"Nothing is," I murmured. I leaned forward and licked up and down the length of his cock, staring up as he devoured me with his eyes.

I kissed the head a little, before enveloping him between my lips. Theed made to wrap his hands through my hair, but I intercepted them with my own, entwining our fingers together instead. I pushed as far as I could, choked a little and then slipped him out of my mouth, gasping.

"You used to do better than that," Theed admonished me.

"You were a lot shorter then!" I said. "And, besides, it's been a while since I've been with a man."

"Sare," said Theed. He broke my hold on his right hand and brushed a wayward strand of hair out of my eyes. "I was sorry to hear about Mari." 

"I..." I didn't know he'd kept tabs, and was taken aback a little that he'd shown more interest in me than just my tits and pussy. But I didn't want to get drawn into a bit of emotional back and forth with him. I was here for the sex.

"Shut up," I finished, wrapping my free hand around the base of his cock to steady it as I plunged back down, pushing even further this time. 

"Oh, shit, that's so good," he said. I felt his fingers cupping the back of my head and moaned around him. I stopped bobbing along his cock and just held still, resisting the pressure from his hand. Theed knew just what I wanted him to do. He shifted his hand until it was cupped along my neck and jaw and began to buck, thrusting his cock into my mouth rapidly, driving a little deeper each time until finally my latent gag reflex got tickled and I choked a little and backed off. 

"Oh, fuck, yeah, baby, fuck my face," I said. "I'll bet you missed putting your cock in my mouth."

I pulled him back inside my lips, letting him resume his thrusting, staring up into his eyes as he did. 

"To be honest, I missed what came out of your mouth more," he said. Theed did love it when I talked dirty. But right now I was more interested in him coming in my mouth, so I put a hand on his hips to stop him, and began to suck on him again. I moved my hand down to play with his balls, and released his other hand so I could stroke the remainder of the shaft I couldn't swallow.

I'm not ashamed to say that I like to give head and that I've gotten good at it. There was a long time when I thought good girls didn't have penetrative sex but did do oral, my parents being devout Tantric Catholics. Combined with my generally raging libido, this meant blowing most of the boys at school and any of the girls that would let me. 

Which is to say, Theed barely stood a chance before he groaned and shot his load down my throat. He was so deep I barely tasted how acrid it was as I swallowed, making sure not to let a drop of his cum escape. 

"God fucking damn, Sare, just like old times," he said as I licked him clean. 

"I remember there being more," I said.

"I think I just ejaculated all my internal organs," laughed Theed. "And you're worried about more. Well, just thank your lucky stars I didn't get a Gaisar implant like the saleswoman tried to convince me to, or you'd still be choking it down." 

I couldn't help but notice he was still hard, no down time on his cock at all. That wasn't the Theed I remembered either.

"Did you get something else besides just a size enhancement, though?" I asked.

"Yeah, they call it an instant reset," Theed said. "It lets me get hard at the drop of the hat. Hell, I can stay like this for 24 hours without, you know, priapism or anything bad like that. It's like being sixteen again without all the awkward boners, pimples, and squeaking. It makes for some pretty great Saturdays."

"Well, I think you're wrong about this being like old times," I said. I turned around, giving him a view of my full, firm ass. He groped it as I backed over his lap, but I slapped his hands away. I reached down and grabbed his cock with one hand to steer it and pulled my panties to one side with the other.

"How's that?"

"I haven't gotten off yet," I said, then plunged down onto his monster of a penis.

"Oh FUCK!" I screamed. There's always this feeling I have that no matter how big or small something looks by itself, the pussy is the great equalizer. Once you've got it in there, that's that, unless it's so small you can't tell. At least, that'd been my experience to this point. I'd never encountered an enhancement before. Theed's horse cock pushed up against my cervix immediately, and he was so thick I was stretched to the edge to accommodate him.

"You're right," he managed from behind me. "You were always so tight, but you've never felt as tight as right now."

Theed's hands found their way to my tits, and he began to maul them just the way I'd taught him to, all those years back when we were just rookies having stupid fun. I twined my fingers with his, until we were both squeezing and pawing at me together. Down below, I managed to give his cock a little squeeze with my pussy.

Theed groaned when I did, lifting his hips a little, trying to push his way deeper inside my white hot cunt, to no avail. When that didn't work, he dragged my right hand down off my breast, through my neatly trimmed pubic hair to my clit. 

"Touch yourself," he said. 

To be honest, I would've done it on my own in the next few seconds, even if he hadn't told me to. I probably could have gotten off on his cock alone, judging by how completely he was filling me, but I was desperate to get there quick. As I started to stroke my clit with my right hand, Theed's hand followed behind mine, echoing its movements. Between his hands, his cock, and my furious fingers, I was wracked by an orgasm much better than anything he'd ever given me before, almost as good as with Mari. Again I pushed her from my mind.

I'd stopped moving as my pussy spasmed in the throes of my climax, and Theed had stopped thrusting in response, so there was a wonderful moment where we were just very still, him buried inside of me, and me panting heavily, watching Theed's hand on my tit rise and fall with the movement of my chest. Beads of sweat began to slip down my cleavage, feeling cool in the air of the office as they made their way south down my body. 

Theed's hands left mine and I looked down as they hooked themselves under my thighs, just seconds before he lifted me into the air, still impaled on his cock. He stepped out of his pants and I gave a wordless little moan as the movement and sheer gravity caused him to shift inside me sweetly. He slowly tilted me forward until I caught myself on his desk and then he let my legs down. His hands disappeared for a moment, and then I felt them pulling at my panties again until there was a ripping sound and the whole pair fell down my right leg to the floor.

"Oh, goddamn it, Theed," I said. "I liked those."

"Sorry, they were in the way," he said. "I'll buy you a new pair. Or, rather..."

He put a hand on my back forcing me up against the surface of the desk. I'm no expert on what real oak feels like, but I know what GenOak feels like, especially in this position, and this wasn't that. Theed shifted around the FlimsyFilms on his desk, looking for God knows what. I was only interested in how boring his cock was being, so I gave it another little squeeze with my pussy. From the corner of my eye, I saw Theed wince a little with the effort to keep himself composed, and I smiled at him. He pulled at a flimsy I'd inadvertently trapped under me. It rolled my nipple as it sprung free.

"Ah, finally, a blank one," he said. He began to type on the keyboard that came up, and finally, slowly, began to thrust again. I stepped a little wider to make it easier for him.

"I didn't message you for sex, Sare," he said. A hand found the clasp on my bra, undoing it, and he stroked the side of my left tit. "I've got a job for you."

"What is it?"

"You know what a xenoarchaeologist is?"

"An alien hunter?"

"Something like that. GJS employs a few to scour our mining sites, just in case. Usually it's just a whole lot time and money wasted for a wild goose chase and some goodwill with the naturalists. Except on Ganymede, of course."

The whole system had been set abuzz five years ago when a team of Harvard xenoarchaeologists had uncovered the remains of what they claimed was a pre-space flight alien civilization that had died off millions of years before humanity had thought to sharpen a stick. On Jupiter's moon, of all places for life to have been. And while we'd all been speculating that alien life would be more advanced than we were, they'd actually just been less successful. 

"Well, we think one of these guys got himself a mistress. No proof, at least not on company or personal computers, outside of some suspicious meeting times."

"So what?" I pulled my bra out from under my breasts, and arched my back a little so I could turn to look at what Theed was typing on the FlimsyFilm. 

"We also think Thorsen Genetics is blackmailing him into giving up trade secrets."

"Just fire him." 

"Company sees this as a potential blessing in disguise. Suits upstairs think this might be a perfect opportunity for a little sabotage against ThorGen. Feed them bad info, that sort of thing. Of course, they don't want company fingerprints all over it. That's why I have to use FlimsyFilm, rather than send the info to your optical. No trails. They want an outsider to investigate, someone with discretion, who knows to keep their mouth shut if they should get pinched by the SPD. A professional. I thought of you."


The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 01



"What's the job?" I asked. Theed's pace was increasing, and his balls were slapping against my clit from time to time. He'd stopped typing and had pinned my hands behind my back, meaning I couldn't stroke myself to make up for the inconsistent attention of his testicles.

"Follow the egghead, figure out if he's got a mistress. Then figure out if ThorGen's pumping him from information. If he is and they are, make contact and report back. Think you can handle that?"

"I can handle anything you've got," I told him, grinning. "How much?"

Theed let go of my hands, and I immediately slipped one between my legs, stroking myself along as he pounded into me. He pushed the flimsy he'd been working on in front of me. At the top of it was written a number. A big number. An "oh, Christ, don't stop, I'm about to have the gushiest orgasm of my life while you pour champagne on my tits in this private jet on Earth" big number.

"Holy shit," I said. "Your corporate life is the gift that keeps on giving."

"You'll do it?"

"I'll do it," I said. 

"Good," he said. He pulled out and rolled me onto my back. "The guy's home and work addresses are further along on the flimsy, as well as a photo and all the known passwords and usernames for his company and personal logins. We know he's not making contact with the sidepiece at home or work, so I think you'll have to do good ol' fashion detecting on this one. He leaves work today at 6:30pm Olympus Standard, if you're going to be up to starting today."

"Even with that thing, I can't imagine how I wouldn't be," I said.

Theed chuckled as he pushed my legs apart until I was spread eagled in front of him, the bottom of my ass hanging a little ways off the table, my moist pussy lips open and welcoming to the cock hovering just inches away. He pushed into me and again I marveled at the feeling of his tremendous size. 

"There's one more thing I got with my cushy corporate life," he said. He gave two quick rapid thrusts in succession, then pulled back, almost all the way out, before plunging back in as deep as he could go.

There was a familiar sound, and I could feel my pussy pulsing and I realized that Theed's whole cock was buzzing like a vibrator. 

"Holy shit!" I cried.

"You like that?" Theed pulled out of me again, and he slapped his cock against my clit a few times before pressing himself up against it, rubbing the vibrating shaft back and forth against me. 

It was incredible, and I'm no stranger to the joys of machine-induced self-pleasure. They have some pretty powerful motors in vibes these days, not like those toothbrush motors they had back in the day, but Theed's cock was on a whole other level. There's a lot of variance in vibes and dildos on the Martian market. For a thousand Unifieds, you can get a dildo with a jack for a neuroshunt and even trick your brain into perceiving it as a real cock. But this wasn't mental trickery, where you leave netstate and see the rubber phallus after. This was Theed's actual cock vibrating away, and his skin was soft, burning hot, and slick with my pussy juice. 

"Oh, fuck, Theed!" I cried again, as the throbbing in my cunt built along with my orgasm. I could hear the blood ringing in my ears and my whole body felt like it was flush. "Oh. Fuck. Theeeeed!"

My pussy gushed as I came, and Theed fell to his knees and began to lap away at the juices. I couldn't help myself, thrashing and bucking in the throes of my orgasm while he licked me. Theed wrapped his arms around my boot-covered legs to keep from getting kicked by the long heels, and I stretched my arms out, trying to get a grip on the edge of the desk, one hand crumpling and cracking a mass of flimsies by accident. Neither of these things got my hips under control, as I at once tried to put as much of my pussy into Theed's mouth as I could manage, while the rest of my body tried to convince my clit and pussy that we were done and any more of this pleasure would kill us. Luckily, those two don't listen to anybody, and I managed not to break Theed's nose as he licked and sucked me.

Theed stood up while I shuddered in the aftershocks of my orgasm. He leaned down across the desk, his chin drawing near to mine, one hand steadying himself on the desk, while the other massaged a tit. I ran my hands up through his hair and drew him close to lick the sweet excess of my pussy off his face and lips. He still had that stupid fresh from the Academy buzzcut that he'd worn the entire time we were in the SPD. What a dope. When there was nothing of me left on his face, I forced his mouth open and sucked on his tongue to get the last of it.

"It's just like old times," he whispered, breaking the kiss and rising back up off the desk.

"Fuck no, it's not," I said. I sat up on the edge of the desk and grabbed his still buzzing dick. My whole arm shook holding it, and I tapped it lightly against my clit, watching Theed's tortured expression as I played with myself playing with him. 

"Oh, don't want to get me off anymore, huh?" I teased. "And me, a good friend, doing you a favor."

"For that much money, I'm doing you the favor," said Theed. "I just want something in return, is all."

"Well, if it's going to be all business with you, why don't I just call M. Perky in here and have her pussy assist your cock in getting off?"

"Peppy."

"That's what I said," I grinned at him. My hand ran across his desk to where the holo display showed the intercom buzzer. "Should I call her up in that elevator of yours? I'll bet with that 2nd Skin, you can fuck her tits with her shirt on. I wonder if her panties are made from the same stuff. I wonder if she's even wearing panties. Or do you make M. Pussy leave those at home so you don't have to keep tearing them off?"

Theed's hand pinned my wrist to the desk, preventing it from moving. He leaned in close. 

"Peppy," he corrected. "And I just want you."

"You want to to fuck my tight little pussy with that giant buzzcock of yours? You want to fuck me so hard I can barely walk out of here?" I asked. I stretched one leg around Theed, driving the heel of my boot into his thigh and undid the zipper on the front of his shirt. It was completely soaked through with his sweat. He shrugged out of the sleeves and threw it across the room. I stroked his bare chest, rubbing at one nipple on the edge a sharply-defined pec. 

"Yes," said Theed.

"You want to fill my cunt up with your cum? You want to scream my name when you do?"

"Oh, fuck. Yes."

"Fuck me, Theed."

He wasted no time, taking his cock away from my hand, ramming it up into my pussy. He put both hands on my neck, leaving the grip open so that his thumbs were tucked behind my ears, pulling my face to his until our foreheads were touching, his gaze intently locked with mine, as he pounded over and over into me as I steadied myself on the desk. I moaned and closed my eyes, letting him do most of the work, our skin slapping together as he shoved his vibrating cock into my sopping wet cunt. I opened my eyes again and looked down between us, watching as most of his huge cock disappeared inside of me, then reappeared immediately, then back again, like the world's hottest and most repetitive magic trick. I started squeezing him with my pussy to help him along.

"I'm going to cum," Theed gave a desperate warning after a few seconds of this. 

"Do it. Cum for me, baby."

If I'd complained about how little there'd been when I sucked him off, it was clear now that Theed's body had apparently decided to save it up for this one, filling me up with his cum, so much so that when he pulled out and collapsed into his chair, some of his semen came pouring out of me immediately. I knelt and licked his cock, gathering the delicious contrasting mix of my sweet juices and the traces of his salty cum. 

"Thanks, baby," I said, standing up. "I'd love to stay, but I've got a job to do."

Theed just laughed. "You never like to hang around after." He caught my hand as I tried to turn away, pulling me back to him, and kissed me long and deep. I pushed him away after a moment.

"Maybe some other time, M. Corporate," I said. "I'll let you buy me a drink at Farrell's first and we can remember stories." I found my hat and my coat, putting them back on, grabbed the flimsy with the archaeologist's details and folded it into a pocket, then hailed the elevator.

"Do you want these back?" Theed asked, holding my bra and the wreckage of my panties. 

"You break it, you bought it, sweetheart."

The elevator door opened and Peppy stood beaming at me. She was unfazed by her boss's nude form or his horse cock, and I guessed I'd been right about her being one of those personal assistants with the emphasis on personal. 

"The bra's still good," said Theed, examining it in his hands.

"They go with the panties," I said. "Keep 'em as a memento." I nodded at Peppy, and she pressed the button for the ground floor. The door closed on Theed, staring up at me as he held my bra in both hands.

I'm sure I reeked of sex, and I was doing my best to keep from leaking Theed's cum all over the floor. I snuck a glance at Peppy. Her nipples were clearly erect and her cheeks looked a little flushed, but it might have been just how damn cold the elevator was. I was freshly-fucked and I'd got goosebumps running up and down my arms. That's the problem with Mars. It's so fucking hot, even with the terraforming, that everyone with climate control likes to show off that, if they wanted, they could set their place to freezing. And here I was, with only some thigh-high boots and trench coat. Well, maybe if the elevator got stuck, Peppy and I could huddle underneath my trench to keep from freezing to death.

"First floor," said Peppy, as I was still lost in the fantasy of her shivering naked next to me. "Do you have everything M. Montgomery gave you?"

I patted my pocket with the flimsy. "You bet."

"Then I hope to see you again, M. Jeffries."

M. Heavily-Armed Gorilla was still on patrol outside the door, and I gave him a sweet smile as I hailed an autocab. When I the autocab pulled up, I leaned in close to him.

"I just got done fucking your boss," I whispered. "I hope you're not married, because your spouse is gonna be pissed when you come home without a job today."

As I stepped into the autocab, I glanced back at the guard, watching me with a mixture of fear and hate and I laughed. He'd probably spend the rest of the week worrying about getting the axe, unable to know if I'd told Theed about him or not, unable to ask Theed about it without potentially outing himself as being a prick to me. 

The autocab attendant was the same guy who'd been manning my ride in.

"Hoping for another ice cube show?" I asked him. He looked a little sheepish and I laughed. The autocabs were supposed to be managed by a very complex computer system that adjusted for demand and desired destination. To have the same guy meant he'd figured out how to override the central command system. He'd have to have still picked up fares though, or the autocab would change neighborhoods automatically, which meant he'd purposefully selected short fares in hopes of getting me again. The autocabs also weren't supposed to be able to do that. Had to give the guy credit.

"I'll take a bourbon, straight," I told him. "And none of that synth stuff. Real Kentucky."

"Yes, ma'am," he chirped. "That'll be two hundred Unifieds."

It was expensive, sure, but this job would pay for all the real bourbon I'd ever wanted. I made the transfer. As the attendant poured my drink, I decided I'd have a little more fun. He was kind of cute in a puppyish sort of way, and he had gone through all this trouble just to see me again. I didn't want him to feel discouraged. I undid the belt buckles on my coat, but held it closed with one hand, so that it revealed a mountain of my cleavage. I shrugged my shoulders so that the collar of the coat fell down behind my back, exposing my bare shoulders and that I didn't have a shirt or bra on underneath. 

The attendant handed me my glass of whiskey, unaware he'd way overfilled it. I wasn't complaining, though, and neither was he, as he watched me drink, the liquid burning its way down my throat, making me feel warm inside. I let a nipple escape the coat, then let go completely, so I could tease it with my free hand, making it stand up long and fierce. My coat stayed draped over my body, so I unfolded my legs, pushing the ends away, giving the attendant a grand view of my pussy, Theed's semen still oozing out of it. 

His mouth was wide open and I pretended not to notice while I drank my whiskey and idly played with my tit, watching the city go by under the glass floor of the autocab. He didn't have the tell-tale entry scar for an optical, so he couldn't take any pictures unless he went for his phone, and if he did that I would know. He started to clean up the bar, watching me the whole time from his seat.

The autocab alerted us my stop was coming up and he started. He'd been paying extra attention to some part of the bar below the counter I couldn't see, and I'd had my suspicions about what that really was, and the sound of the magnet clasps on his fly snapping together confirmed them. I put the whiskey glass back on the bar and did the belts on my coat back up, but poorly enough that they left my tits out for the moment.

"Later, hon," I told him, as the autocab settled down outside my building. "And make sure you pick me up again. I can use a guy who knows how to reprogram an autocab."

I stepped out of the cab, tightening my coat around me. In the lobby, I made a brief detour to the StreetDoc booth, and made sure I was taken care of. I liked Theed, but I didn't see myself raising his kids, and who knew where Peppy had been. 

My office often doubled as a bedroom, so I'd made sure to get one with a shower. I cleaned up, and switched my clothes. No more hooker boots, I was on a job, so it was comfortable shoes and looser denim in case I need to run. I found a grey deep cut v-neck sweater, because sometimes it helps to be able to lean over a counter and flaunt, and I took a short black leather jacket, because you also need to not have every eye in the room staring at your chest if you're tailing someone. 

I read the flimsy Theed had given me.

Hary Xu, second generation Martian. 42, married to Landa Xu, formerly Landa Beinhart. No details on where the alleged mistress was, only where she wasn't. Xenoarchaeologist, with a Ph.D. from Elon Musk U and once a visiting professor at Harvard. He'd been part of the first team to find signs of alien life on Ganymede. Now GJS's goto guy on their Ganymede mining operations. Spends half of his time in R&D as well. What was he doing in R&D? The file didn't say. It did say, "trade secret," though. That wasn't like Theed. When he'd been a cop, he liked to have the full story, beginning, middle, and end. He'd given me the same if he could, and the head of Security for GJS almost certainly could have. That meant, for all his talk of keeping it on flimsy to be untraceable through the Internet, this file had been prepped by someone with a more restrictive eye than Theed had. 

I supposed it wasn't relevant information. I didn't need the whole story. What was relevant was that he'd be leaving work in an hour. I needed to jet. 

Clothes, info, now all I needed was gun. Mari's handcannon would be more than sufficient, I thought. That'd been one of those things about Mari that had made me love her. She was direct, and to the point. She didn't like to cut corners, she didn't like to dance around the subject. When she bought a gun, it wasn't going to be some peashooter that could fit down her underwear or some artillery piece that let everyone knew you were coming a mile away. The handcannon slipped over the shooter's fist, the trigger concealed. It fired a plasma arc about the size of an avocado but could fit in your pocket. 

I'd kept it less out of sentimentality reasons than the sheer practicality of the thing. 

My car was a beat up old Tesla O. It used to make suborbital flights, but I wouldn't trust it these days. I punched in the address of GJS's Research and Design lab, and continued to review the dossier Theed had given me on the way over. My O parked itself across the street, and I waited for Xu's purple Jupiter to appear, like the flimsy told me he'd be driving. Apparently the the GJS CEO sat on the board of Jupiter Autocars and it was their default company car. I'd Googled that. 

At 6:34pm, Olympus Standard, a purple Jupiter with the license 24i-9L8 pulled out of the corporate lot. Hary Xu. 

It'd cost me, and I'd had to know the right mechanic, and then I'd had to know how to convince the right mechanic, but eventually I'd got her to bend the rules of what was technically legal and alter the Tesla O's nav computer to locate and follow specific cars. Every car had this ability, technically, but it required asking the other car if they'd let you follow them. Not very useful for a private eye. Good for me I'm so persuasive.

Hary Xu did not head for the address listed as his house on the flimsy. Instead, we flew from the Outskirts to Low Amazon, which meant we went from shithole factories and enclosed office spaces to the seediest neighborhood in New Angeles. Xu was supposed to be heading home to Kennedyville, but here we were in New Canaveral. We went down Gates Boulevard until we banged a right onto Hippolyta Street. Xu's Jupiter began to settle down and I quickly punched in a location a little ways up the block so that the O drove on by. I kept my eye on Xu. He got out of his car, and walked into a nearby building carrying a suitcase: Juan's Neuro Solutions. A neuro den. I pulled it up on my optical and plugged in the address on the Tesla's computer, and we turned around and parked across the street.

Nothing to do but wait. And wait I did. I sat for about twenty minutes, watching as a few folks trickled out of the neuro den, blinking in the brightness of the sun as they came recovered from the netstate. 

It occurred to me, suddenly, that Xu had a wife and a sidepiece. He was unlikely to be using a neuro den for the same reason I might or half the net-drunk fucks who stumbled out of the place might. So what the fuck was he doing in there?

"Fuck," I said. I was going to have to go in there. 

I unzipped my leather jacket a little, enough to get a rise if I wanted one and popped the car door open. New Canaveral had less heat shielding than other parts of New Angeles, and the air was dusty and dry. I slipped in the door to the neuro den. At least they had air conditioning. 

There was a rickety set of stairs to go up, and then I was in a shitty little lobby, a bunch of folding chairs pushed up against the walls to simulate a bench and a bead curtain separating the back from the front. Nobody was there except for a kind of scrawny guy with tattoos and one side of his head shaved pointed manning the desk. His only concession towards a shirt was a ragged denim vest. He had a mustache he'd waxed into a jagged shape and dyed green.

"You Juan?" I asked.

"Who's asking?" he returned.

"WARNING!" screamed a muffled artificial voice from under his vest. "Parolee...James Murado...is currently experiencing thoughts of an extremely violent or sexual nature. Please be advised to treat him with caution. You can report all crimes committed by parolee...James Murado...by calling System Police at 991." 

"Ex-con, huh?" I asked. "Guess you're not Juan. My name's Sare Jeffries."

"Stupid fucking intent broadcaster," said Murado. "I barely even considered anything. You a cop, Sare Jeffries?"

"Was. Now I'm working freelance."

"WARNING!" blurted the intent broadcaster. "Parolee...James Murado...is currently experiencing thoughts of an anti-authority nature. Please be advised -" Murado beat on his chest for a while until it shut up.




The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 01



"What do you want?"

"This guy came in here, maybe half an hour ago," I said, blowing up Xu's face on the flimsy and holding it up. "He still here?"

Murado looked at the picture, but he didn't say anything.

"Look, pal," I said, settling my elbows down on the desk so he could get a good look at my cleavage if he wanted. "We can either do this the easy way where we make nice-nice, or we can do this the hard way, where I call up a few of my old buddies on the force and they come down here and comb over the place. Are you guys plugged in to the net here, or are your chairs running closed circuits?"

Murado rubbed his neck. "Closed circuits."

"That's what I thought." Your classier neuro den, such as Juan's Neuro Solutions here, disconnected their chairs from the Universal Wide Web so their clients couldn't be traced if their created realities tended into a certain level of depravity not permitted by the government. They wiped the chairs on random cycles to further hide their tracks. But if a police raid caught them by surprise, well, both the client and the proprietor could go to Deimos on long charges of illicit sexual material and aiding and abetting, respectively. 

"Then why don't you make nice?" I asked. "Is this guy here?"

"He's here," said Murado.

"Show me."

Murado led the way into the darkened hallway beyond the bead curtain, and I kept Mari's handcannon trained on him in my jacket pocket, just in case he did decide to try anything. The intent broadcaster would let me know well before he did, but I didn't want to risk anything. He paused at a door marked Room 8.

"After you," he said.

I took out Mari's handcannon.

"Don't try anything," I told him, and carefully turned the handle, opening the door to Room 8. Murado waved me in. 

Hary Xu was in there, all right, but he wasn't in any particular state to talk. In netstate, a person's eyes are closed, and they're tranquil and relaxed. Hary Xu's eyes were wide open and his face was a mask of shocked pain. His hands were frozen, clawing at his neuroshunt, which was smoking. The man was dead as a doornail. And naked to boot.

"Hey, did you know -" I began, but as I spoke, Murado slammed the door shut. I tried to stop him, but he was quick. I saw the keypad on the wall turn green as the code was entered, then flash red indicating the lock was engaged. I briefly tried slamming the door open, but it was a solid metal block with reinforced hinges. I was trapped.

The room was a shithole, as the whole place had proven itself to be. A solid concrete floor they'd initially tried to put faux-wooden tile over, but that had worn away over the years. The place smelled like the one-sided sex it was generally used for. A single solitary window, the glass frosted opaque, sat on a side of the room that was clearly not getting any sun. They'd used cheap LEDs for the lighting, so that it was far too bright, like being in a bathroom.

I looked back at Hary Xu's corpse. In addition to the wires which tethered his neuroshunt to the chair, a couple more ran out to a little device with a dish on the floor. A transmitter. The clever bastard had turned the chair into an outside line. This was probably how he met his mistress. He came to Juan's, a known closed circuit den, then used the transmitter to beat the chair, and reach out to the girlfriend, so they could rendezvous in netstate. Pretty good, as long as you didn't mind stripping naked and sitting in a chair with a jack in your neck, rather than getting real cock and real pussy. Or, in Hary's case, fried. Now all I needed to figure out was where he'd been fried: my end or the girl's end. In a private meeting like that, it would be hard to have a 3rd party eavesdropper. But an invited guest could throw an overload virus back to Hary, if they'd wanted. Or Murado could've come in here and just stuck a screwdriver in his shunt, which also would've done it.

There was a knock at the door.

"About time," I called. "I don't know what kind of shit you were pulling, but -"

"Open up!" came a gruff male voice. "This is the System Police. We have a report of a homicide."

The doorknob jiggled a little, but of course it stayed locked. The door clanged against what was obviously a shouldered being lowered into it. Someone swore on the other side and then said, "get the ram."

When I'd been part of the SPD, we'd never in our life been this fast to the scene of a homicide. If Xu had been killed on this side, then only Murado could've known. This was a seedy neuro den in a seedy part of town. Its patrons had a vested interest in keeping their noses out of other patrons' business lest they get noses back. Which meant the SPD had already been on their way when I'd entered the room.

Someone had set me up to take the fall for a murder, and all signs were currently pointing to Murado. If he wasn't the actual killer, then he probably knew who was. But to get to him at the moment, I'd have to shoot my way through the SPD SWAT team currently trying to bash in the door. That wasn't an option. But there was only one other way out.

I aimed the handcannon at the window, where the two sashes came together, and pulled the trigger. The plasma arc cut a perfectly round hole through them, and then both sashes came tumbling down, the glass shattering as they collapsed on the pane, spilling shards into the room and the alley below.

As the warm air of New Canaveral came rushing into the room, I went hurtling out the window.



The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 02



I was falling and my body was screaming out in terror, but I managed to keep my own mouth shut, and forced myself to tuck my legs under me, and roll when I hit the ground of the alley behind Juan's Neuro Solutions. I'd rolled over a bit of the broken glass from the window I'd shot out, my favorite pair of jeans had a lot of fresh tears, my leather jacket was scuffed to hell, and my legs felt like the devil had been playing them for a xylophone, but other than that, I'd managed to come through it mostly unscathed. 

I clipped Mari's handcannon onto my belt. I didn't need a gun out with the cops crawling around.

I began to sprint up the alley when two uniformed SPD officers stepped into my path. I think they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them. The nearest one fumbled his service pistol out of its holster, but I was too close, slipping my right arm under his elbow and grabbing his wrist with my left hand. I pressed his arm like I was pushing a lever until he screamed in pain as his forearm broke in two places and the pistol in his hand went clattering to the ground. When I let go of him, he went down the same as his pistol, groaning and clutching at his arm.

His partner had a little better resolve. He hadn't been top of his class in unarmed combat at the academy like I had (they'd even asked me back to teach a class once...and then never again), but it didn't matter when you had a punch that could drop a mule. It certainly put me down, a shockingly powerful blow to my gut that sent me crashing to all fours to catch my breath while the world decided to do the tango in front of me. I noticed one of the world's dancing partners was a stray brick.

"Where the fuck are you running to?" asked guy who'd hit me.

"Your balls," I said, and grabbed the brick, bashing it up against his crotch with as much force as I could muster. There was a brief moment where I was afraid I hadn't hit him hard enough and he just stood, his eyes bulged, before he too went rolling on the ground, a blubbering mass of pain and suffering. 

Now he knew how I felt. 

I struggled to my feet, stumbling to the edge of the alley. We were on the other side of the building from the neuro den's entrance, and there was just the one lone squad car the two officers I'd just assaulted had come in. I slipped across the street, then down another alley, and another street, before I stepped into a cafe. 

"Does your bathroom have a StreetDoc unit?" I asked the barista. 

"Yeah, but you have to order something," he said.

"Coffee, cream and sugar," I said. "Now where's the bathroom?"

The StreetDoc was a piece of shit, a junked-up wall unit that someone had written a phone number across. When I plugged in my symptoms it only gave me some over-the-counter painkillers and recommended I take it easy for a while. I stripped off my jacket and used the penknife I kept in a sheath on my ankle to cut the scuffed up sleeves off, then tossed those in the trash can. I liked this jacket, but I liked not being arrested more. My sweater came off and I threw that away as well. I glanced at the rips in my jeans and sighed. It was going to look old-fashioned as hell, but there was no help for it. I dug my fingers into the tears, pulling them a little wider and looser and used the penknife to fray the edges of the rips to make like they'd come that way off the rack. Maybe someone would think I was trying to pull off a retro punk look. I could always claim to be a reenactor. I unhooked my bra and into the trash it went as well. I was going to keep my newly made leather vest unzipped and it could to pay to have every asset available. I could buy a new bra and sweater, but I couldn't necessarily make bail for suspected murder and assaulting two cops. The ripped jacket hung gently over my breasts, but not in any danger of flying off them, just revealing my cleavage and navel. Guess today was a day to get used to the feeling of leather on my bare skin. 

My coffee was almost cold when I got out, but the barista didn't make a comment on that or my change in appearance. I tipped him more than cost of the coffee in appreciation, and sat in a corner booth where I could watch the street while pretending to read on my optical. About ten minutes later a couple of cops went running past the shop. One stopped and looked in, then shook his head at his partner and moved on.

I sat for another fifteen minutes, looking up James Murado on the web. I tracked down his criminal history; armed burglary in one of the nicer New Angeles suburbs. He'd gotten ten years, but been paroled in three for good behavior. A search for Juan's Neuro Solutions turned up a website. The "Meet our Qualified Staff!" page had Murado's headshot and a description, including the website where he ran a neuro-chip modification side business. That produced a phone number, and a back search on that turned up an address. 

Finally, I hailed my Tesla O on my optical. The battered old thing collapsed to the street just in front of the cafe, and I dumped my coffee in the gutter before I got in and I punched in Murado's address, making sure the route had a proper StreetDoc I could stop at on the way. 

It was dark out when the Tesla settled down outside the rubbish heap James Murado called a home in the Low Amazon. I snuck up to his house, creeping along the side until I found an unlocked window and slipped into the building. 

The room I was in was a kitchen, sort of, but I'd be shocked if the stove worked. It was more like a pantry with a refrigerator and a table. I adjusted my optical's night vision to take advantage of the low-light and glanced around the corner of the kitchen's door.

The next room was a living room, and then a single hall, with two doors off one side and a final door at the end. I could see the light under the last door. Murado.

But my instinct was to clear the house first, so I moved carefully across the living and tried the first door. Bathroom, the shower curtain hanging by only a handful of loops and a couple of towels dangling from a bar. No mat, and the whole place could use a clean. I didn't understand how you could let a place get like this. A cleaning bot barely cost anything these days. 

The next room was immaculately clean, however. Even in the dark. It had probably been a bedroom at one time, but not anymore. Now it was something like an office or editing room. Computer equipment and electronics I couldn't identify were set up all over the room. Place was probably drawing half of Mars' power. A neuro chair was tucked into a corner. I whistled. That explained a lot of the poor upkeep on the rest of the building. Those chairs were expensive as hell. Five monitors had been hung on the wall in a straight line, and at the center of the table was a holomonitor. 

On it, an older woman was having sex with a series of disembodied cocks, one in each hole and hand. Porn, I initially thought. But there was something about how she was behaving. She wasn't your classic porn model, so maybe she was an amateur, but even amateurs knew to at least try and keep it in shot. She wasn't bothering to adjust for some unseen camera, not even a sideways glance as she got fucked. 

I bent over the desk and pulled the file details up on one of the nearby wall monitors. The filename was a string of numbers that matched the file's creation date, and a person's name. I checked the directory. Every single file was like that, the names varying wildly, always just one name per file.

"WARNING! Parolee...James Murado...is currently experiencing thoughts of a violent or sexual nature!" bleated Murado's intent broadcaster. I spun, my vest flapping wildly, Mari's handcannon leaping into my hand.

Murado froze as he caught sight of the handcannon. He was even less dressed than I was, down to just his boxer briefs. The speaker for the intent broadcaster sat embedded in his chest under his right shoulder. He was scrawny, but he was fit, and had an extensive set of tattoos up and down his torso. Some lizard part of my brain was appreciative.

"You have a warrant to search my house?" he asked.

"I don't need a warrant, I'm not a cop," I said. "And no one's going to complain about that when I get you for the murder of Hary Xu."

"Who?"

"The roasted guy in the chair this evening."

"I didn't kill that guy. I'd never kill anyone."

"No? Your jacket says you beat some millionaire in the Valley half to death, trying to rob his house."

"That was an accident. That pendejo tried to jump me with a kitchen knife. When I hit him, he smacked his head on his marble countertop. DA blew it up to get me to take a guilty plea."

One cynicism you always develop as a cop is that everyone lies. The victims, the perps, the guy you just ticketed. Everyone breaks the law, no one likes getting caught at it. So they bend the truth to suit it. Except in this case, I believed James Murado, convicted armed burglar, more than I believed his jacket. 

"You didn't kill Hary Xu?"

"No."

I've learned to trust my gut, and nobody else's when it comes to these things. And right now my gut was telling me Murado was telling the truth. I just had to ensure he stayed cooperative. The handcannon would only go so far.

"But you set me up."

"I locked you in. I got paid for it. But I didn't call the cops."

"Who paid you?"

"Why should I tell you?" asked Murado. Damn, and we'd been getting along so nicely.

"It'd make me happy," I said. "And you were just being so helpful a second ago."

"Only to help me." His eyes had shifted from the handcannon, heading just to the side where my cleavage was leaking out of my vest. 

"I can be helpful too," I said. "How long has it been since you've experienced more than just thoughts of a sexual nature?"

His brow furrowed. "I..."

"I'll bet it's tough to meet women with that thing going off every five seconds. Good thing you already met me, huh?"

I took one hand off my gun and slipped my arm out of the vest. It hung off my other elbow, giving Murado a view of my spectacular tits. I was already a little excited at the thought. It'd been a long time since I'd had to do any convincing. When Mari had still been alive, we'd almost never done this, unless the uncooperative person had a been a particularly pretty girl. The rest of the time she'd just straight talk them into giving up whatever they had. But without her muscle, I had to dust off my old playbook.

"I'll make you a deal," I said, changing gun hands and letting the vest fall to the floor. "I'll help you with what I know about dick, and you can help me with what you know about Hary Xu. Including whatever is on his tape on your computer. That's what those are, aren't they? You've been recording what the neuro den chairs do."

"Yes..." murmured Murado, his eyes attempting to burn holes into my chest.

"Yes, that's a deal, or yes, that's what those files are?"

"Both," said Murado.

"See, we're already being so helpful to each other," I said. "Sit down."

Murado took a seat in an office chair, his bulge already noticeable in his underwear. He'd favored 2nd skin boxer briefs, and I glanced down at his crotch. He wasn't a Theed Montgomery, either when I first knew him or more recently, but he wasn't bad, either. He had a big heavy pair of balls, too. Given what I was gonna do, it was kind of the just right set of equipment.

I put the safety on the handcannon on, then dropped it on my vest, kicking off my shoes and taking off my socks. I opened my fly, revealing my panties, a pretty unfancy pair of powder blue ones that were sexy without needing to be fished out of your ass sexy. I rolled my jeans down, facing away from Murado, giving him a fantastic view of my butt and panty-clad lips as I bent over. When I was undressed except for my panties, I turned and stepped to him, straddling him in the chair, my pussy rubbing up against his hard cock. I started to grind against him through our underwear and one of his hands stroked my back while another squeezed my ass. 

I fed one nipple into his mouth and he sucked on it greedily, making it stand almost instantly, the suction and heat of his lips sending shivers down my spine. My pussy was getting wet, and when I rolled my hips back a little, I glanced down and saw I was starting to soak through both my panties and his briefs. I reached a hand down, trapping his cock between my crotch and my hand, stroking on it. 

Murado switched tits, pulling my other nipple into his mouth, and both his hands had wound their way under my panties, caressing the cheeks of my ass. He slipped a hand under my thigh, one digit probing at the wetness of my pussy and I moaned involuntarily when his finger slipped in to the first knuckle. I pulled on his cock harder and he bit at my nipple, just slightly. His hands hooked the edges of my panties and began to pull.

I pulled my tit out of his mouth and let go of his cock, slapping at his hands.

"Not part of the deal," I said. "Panties stay on."

"What?" he asked. "How am I supposed to..."

"In your dreams," I told him. "Tits and mouth only. I don't trust you with anything else. I've had to pull a gun on you twice in six hours."

"That's not fair," he complained.

"Tough. You see another girl here willing to suck your cock?"

Murado frowned but said nothing. I pulled his hands up to my tits, each nipple wet and hard with his spit, and continued to grind against his cock while he thought.

"Can I taste it, though?" he asked, after a while.

Now it was my turn to pause. I hadn't really figured out how to make this fun for me. I liked giving head, sure, but that wasn't going to be enough to get me off. And if Murado was requesting it, maybe eating me out would help him get off faster. And I certainly wouldn't mind an attempt.

"Okay," I said. "But the panties stay on."

I stepped off him and turned around, spreading my legs apart. I bent over as far as I could go, one hand grasping an ankle while the other sat on the floor to steady me, as I pushed my ass back towards Murado's face.

I felt his hands caress my ass cheeks, the palms warm, the fingers a little thick as they squeezed. His nose bumped up against my panties and he inhaled deeply before I felt his lips kiss me through the fabric. A hand pulled the material blocking access to my pussy to the side, and I felt his breath, hot and damp, on my crotch. I groaned as his tongue lashed across my cunt, licking me over and over from top to bottom. 

He wasn't exactly what you could call a master at eating pussy. You'd expect more from a guy who asked for it. But then again, he'd done three years in prison and another two with that broadcaster telling every woman he was interested in that he either wanted to assault or fuck her. I cut him some slack for being a little out of practice.

But not so much I wasn't going to make him change things if I needed. 

I raised up and pulled away from him, leaving a fearful confusion on his face, his chin wet and shiny with my juices and his saliva. I dragged him and his office chair around until they were facing the monitor, then cleared some space on the desk and bent over it, presenting my rear to him. I looked over my shoulder.

"Fuck me with your tongue," I told him. 

"What?" he asked, dipping close to me again, the hand pushing my panties back to the side after they'd snapped back into place when I stood up.

I reached back and pulled his face up against my pussy.

"Fuck me with your tongue," I said again.

It didn't take him very long to figure it out what I'd meant, and I sighed in pleasure as his tongue thrust in and out of me, licking at the walls of my pussy. I left one hand on his shaved head, holding him as best I could against me, while my other hand started to pay some much needed attention to my clit, since he definitely appeared to have forgotten about that in prison. Murado ran his free hand down the outside of my thigh, and I began to press back against him, trying to get more of his tongue inside me.

I guess I must have gotten carried away, because before I knew it, I was shuddering and gasping as I came over his face. To his credit, he just went right on fucking me with that tongue of his, even as my pussy was contracting on it over and over. It felt like he might get another orgasm out of me almost immediately, and I wasn't sure I'd want that, or who knows what I'd let him do. I pushed him away from me.

"Good," I grunted. I drew him up to his feet, then took his chair myself, leaning forward towards his crotch. "My turn."

He was hard as a rock by now, his cock looking pretty fine in his 2nd skin underwear. Not too long, not too thick. Not that I really felt like there was much wrong with too long and too thick, or that it was really possible, for me, or I would've sent Theed packing. I stroked his cock through his underwear, then ran my lips along the shaft up to the head, which I sucked into my mouth, 2nd skin and all. I sucked and swirled my tongue over the tip of his cock until the fabric was completely soaked with my spit. I let him go with a little pop.

"Take these off," I told him, tapping his ass in his underwear. It was practically like I'd pushed a magic button for disappearing boxer briefs. His naked cock stood before me. It had a gentle curve upwards and the rather large set of balls attached to him, and his pubic hair had been trimmed back considerably. I licked from the base of the shaft up to the head and then down the other side. Murado groaned and I pulled one heavy ball into my mouth before popping it out and taking in the other as I stroked his shaft with my hand. His hands ran through my hair and pulled on me insistently, and I glanced up at him watching me suckle his balls. I licked my way back up to the tip of his shaft and paused for a moment, letting my breath tease him a little, before opening my mouth and taking him all the way into my mouth, until my nose touched his torso and I could feel his sac resting on my chin. 

"Oh, fuck, your mouth is so hot," he said. 

"Mmmhmm," I hummed around him. He groaned in response. I wrapped my thumb and index finger along the base of his shaft, making a tight ring around his cock.

I proceeded to give him one of the sloppiest blowjobs I've given in a very long time. Usually I suck a guy off as a little crowd warming exercise, to get him ready for the main event. But as tonight's second act was currently canceled for James Murado, I held very little back. From time to time I would grab him and pull him out of my mouth, dragging the head out along the inside of my cheeks and then run down his shaft with my lips, his whole cock coated in my saliva, some of it running down his balls and my chin, and a lot of it falling on my neck and tits. After about the second or third time I did this I took him deep again and held him there until my lungs burned a little, then lifted off his cock. 

He groaned with disappointment. "I'm so close."

"I know," I said. "I didn't want you to miss this, though."

I sat up as straight as I could, jutting out my chest and squeezing my upper arms together so that my perky tits pushed tightly together. I grabbed his cock and lowered it down, rubbing the head across the tops and then tapping each nipple, before plunging it into my cleavage. We both watched as I stroked the head of his cock up and down between my tits, until finally I pressed the shaft through as well, and Murado was forced to squat a little to get the right angle. He traded my hands on his cock for his own, and I pressed my tits tighter around him. I looked up into his face.

"Fuck my titties, baby," I cooed. "Fuck 'em until you cum."

He wasted no time, I guess he was pretty pent up, desperately wanting to fuck something. I don't let a lot of men use my breasts as a replacement sex doll, because what's the point for me, but when I do, they usually like to take their sweet time. Not Murado. He bucked his hips as he pounded his cock through my tits, groaning and grunting at the effort. His cock was so wet and hot across my chest bone and I was a little glad I'd already gotten off a few times today, because I was getting a little turned on by how much he wanted this. 




The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 02



"I'm about to cum," he said.

"You'd better," I told him, and gave him a smile. 

He grunted and thrust hard until the head of his cock made an appearance just above my cleavage. I felt his cock pulse and the first jet of hot cum splattered across my neck. The next few fell across my right shoulder and tit and the last of it landed at the top of my cleavage. When his softening cock slipped from between my tits, a little of his cum strolled into the gap between them. I stopped him from getting too far away, and he shook when I pulled the still sensitive tip between my lips and milked the last of his load into my mouth, swallowing it down when he was done. 

"There," I said. "It's so much better to be helpful, isn't it?" He just nodded wordlessly.

I stood up and pulled my jeans back on, then clipped the handcannon to my belt. I left my shoes and vest for now, and went out of the hall and into the bathroom. In the mirror, I saw the mess, the shiny trails of Murado's semen stretching from my neck down to my navel, globs of the stuff clinging to my skin. I took a photo to send to Theed when I found some time. Then I found what passed for a clean towel and wiped down my chest.

When I reentered the neuro room, Murado was in the chair, still recovering, and I shot him a glance.

"You've got answers and I want them," I told him. "Start talking."

"I don't know how much help it'll be," he said.

"Who paid you to set me up?"

"I don't know his name. He looked professional, though. Suit. Tie, even."

"A tie? Anything else stand out about him?"

"Yeah, he wasn't tall, exactly, but he wasn't short, either, you know what I mean? He was a hard-body, too, that was clear. Like Marine Corps hard, you know?" 

"What color were his eyes?"

"I dunno. The neuro den doesn't exactly encourage looking people in the eyes."

"Shit. What'd he do after he paid you?"

"He told me to wait for a woman looking for your man, Hary Xu, and lock her in. Then he told me to forget he'd ever been there. Then he went in Xu's room."

"He came in after Xu? How long was he in Xu's room for?"

"Yeah, maybe five minutes after Xu. I didn't see him leave."

"Did you know Xu was dead when you locked me in there?"

"Not until the SPD kicked down the door."

"This mystery man, he kill Xu?"

"Well, he goes in, guy gets toasted. I didn't see happen, but unless the guy fried himself..."

"Or the person on other end fried him with feedback."

"No way. I looked at his transmitter set up before the cops rolled it up. Any overload would hit the antenna first. He would've just gotten a rude wake up."

"What was on his tape?"

"Well, there's not much. I'll show you." 

Murado clicked around until he found Xu's file and pressed play. The holo monitor glowed and we were looking at a large palatial villa, sitting on a gorgeous coast with white sand beaches and a lazy blue sea. A woman's voice called out, "Hary. Hary," over and over again. We watched Hary Xu stumble around the villa for a bit, his name constantly being called by the mystery woman. Then there was only black.

"What happened?" I asked.

"He got fried," said Murado. I sighed. Another dead end.

"The cops know you make copies of the chairs' memory?"

"No, man. Juan doesn't even know I make copies."

"Well, if you want it to stay that way, I've got another favor to ask of you," I told him. He looked up at me eagerly.

"Same terms?"

"New terms: I don't tell anyone about these copies, and you keep both your job and your freedom. That, or you can can go back to Deimos." 

He groaned. "What do you get out of it?"

"This is a pretty sweet set-up. A guy who knows something about neuro tech...I might have need of you again. And I'd like to use your neuro chair. Can you key my thumbprint into your door's front lock?"

"C'mon, that's asking a lot."

"Well, let's say we've moved past deals, and now we're going to try and be friends, James," I told him. "And if you're a good friend, there might be some good benefits."

I stroked my tits a little so he could imagine what those might be. His cock was hardening again, so at least two out of three of us were a yes.

"Okay," said James, confirming the third vote. "Friends."

I left about fifteen minutes later when he'd got my thumb keyed to his front door, and shown me how to operate the chair so I could drop in uninvited to use it. You can get a home unit for less than a chair, it's just a little wand that jacks into the neuro shunt, but it's processing power is terrible and the created reality shows its cracks. It was going to be nice to be able to use a chair whenever I wanted, free of charge or pervert attendants. Well, except the one. But Murado was turning out to be alright for a guy that'd tried to get me to take the fall for murder. 

Back in my office, I called Theed's office, operating on a hunch he was the sort who never left it. Peppy answered.

"A little late for you to still be working, isn't it, sweetheart?" I asked.

"I love my job, M. Jeffries. I was hoping to hear from you again."

"And I was hoping to do a lot more than hear from you, M...M? I don't know your last name, Peppy."

"Beaver," she answered. There was some sort of disturbance in the background, and I heard her gasp.

I laughed. "Peppy Beaver? Cruel parents?"

"Peppy's just a nickname." She paused. Her voice grew strained. "My business cards say Patri Beaver."

"Well, put me through to M. Montgomery, will you, M. Beaver?"

"Certainly, M. Jeffries."

"Call me Sare."

"Call me Peppy, Sare," said Peppy, before the line clicked as it transferred over.

"Sare," came Theed's voice. It too, sounded strained. "Got an update?"

"Burning the midnight oil, Theed?" I asked. "And you've kept poor Peppy there late."

"She..." he stopped to groan and I heard the murmur of a woman's voice in the background. "...likes it here." The woman laughed.

"Theed, put me on holo." 

"I don't know if that's such a..."

"Put me on holo, Theed."

The feed opened on my optical, revealing Peppy lying on her back on Theed's desk, her frilly skirt rolled back above her waist. I was right about her not wearing panties. She'd kept her 2nd Skin shirt on, but let her long blonde hair down, spreading it out on the same desk I'd been bent over not twelve hours earlier. Theed was between her pale white legs, and I could hear the buzzing of his cock over the wet sounds of him thrusting in and out of his personal assistant.

"Hi again, Peppy," I said.

"Mmmm. Hi again, Sare," she replied, grasping Theed's forearms. 

"What's the news, Sare?" grunted Theed. He kept his eyes on Peppy, not turning to look at me watching from the holo. 

"Hary Xu's dead."

"I know. Saw it on the news. Neuro den, huh?"

"Yeah, he got fried. Clerk said ex-military type in a suit and tie killed him just before I got there," I said, emphasizing the tie. I didn't want to tip my hand, exactly, but if Theed had been the one to set me up, I wanted him to worry that I was onto him. He wasn't the type to spook, but a little pressure never hurt anyone's chances of making a mistake. On the desk, Theed pulled Peppy's legs tight and high over his shoulders. This had a beautiful side effect of revealing some of his thick cock to me when he pumped his hips away from hers on each thrust, the shaft wet from her juice. Peppy moaned, kneading one of her wonderful breasts through her shirt.

"Well, stay on it. Job's changed. Find me that mistress and find out what she knows. Anything else? I talked to our old comrade-in-arms Chief Inspector King. He said two cops got a trip to hospital while pursuit of a suspect."

"Well, I don't know anything about that. Daav always liked to downplay SPD's failures, if I recall, so if he mentioned it to you it must be true. What I do know is I'm going to go talk to the widow tomorrow, see if she'll let me toss Xu's home office after the police get done with her."

"Sounds like a plan," said Theed. "I think Daav's probably got her for questioning now, so I'll find out from him when she's out and message you. Have a goodnight." His hand reached to hang up the call.

"Can't I stay and watch?" I asked. 

Theed glanced at Peppy, who gave an almost imperceptible nod, then reached for Theed's wrist, dragging his hand to her breast. 

I went to sleep that night dreaming of Peppy laughing in delight as Theed filled her cunt with his cum and then her turning herself to the holo to give me a good look at the mess he'd made of her bald pussy as she cleaned herself off his cock and I frigged myself into oblivion.

****

The next morning Theed's message alerting me that Chief Inspector Daav King had released the widow came through as I was drinking my coffee. I was quick to shoot him one back.

"neuro den = set up. that u?"

"what? NO"

"need 2 talk"

"not @ office. not safe. see widow, then meet me tonite @ 7. my house. just talk tho"

"k"

As an after thought, I sent him the photo of my chest after Murado'd finished using my body. I made sure to copy Peppy, too. 

A widow wasn't going to appreciate my normal attire, so today it was all business, like I was a plainclothes police officer. Well, a plainclothes police officer with style. Nice pumps, a nice pair of grey pants that were admittedly a little tight, a sleeveless cream blouse with a frilly collar cut so low that only someone with my tits could wear it without being in danger of spilling out of the cut, and a crop-top suit jacket that matched the pants. And a pair of tinted shooting glasses I'd filched from the SPD's outdoor shooting range years ago because they looked so good on me. 

Too bad my ride was my shitty ten-year old model Tesla O.

I had the flimsy Theed had given me and pulled up everything GJS had on the widow Xu. Landa Xu, nee Beinhart. 35. Also had graduated from Elon Musk University, but only with a Master's in xenoarchaeology. It seemed a little like Hary had married a student. She'd joined a local nonprofit, helping poor Martian kids in New Angeles stay out of the gangs shortly after that. She hadn't gone with Hary to Harvard, or to the Ganymede dig. Committed to her job, apparently. Despite that, and despite the lack of children, she'd stopped working once Hary had been hired by GJS. The company profile also suggested that she was morally opposed to the way GJS conducted its business. She might be a tough nut to crack.

The Xu house was one of those minor mansions, the type they'd thrown up shortly after terraforming made the planet habitable to be a replica of the 1980s and 1990s suburban excesses. The Tesla settled down in the gravel drive, and I dashed up the steps and rang the bell, listening as a series of chimes and gong announced my presence at the front door.

After what seemed like ages, the door opened a slight crack, a chain holding it from going any further. Really, a chain! What a throwback. A pointless affectation these days. 

"I'm sorry, no solicitors," said the woman from inside.

"Landa Xu?" I asked.

"Yes, but I'm sorry, I don't want to hear any sales pitches at the moment."

"M. Xu, I work for GalaxJonesStein. The company hired me to investigate your husband's death," I lied, sort of. 

"The police are already looking into that M...?"

"Jeffries, M. Xu. But please call me Sare," I gave her a soft smile, the kind that told a person I was here to give, not to take. "And the police can't always go where a PI like myself can in the pursuit of justice. The company's hired me to make sure your husband gets justice. That you get justice."

Through the crack in the door, all I could see were a pair of big brown eyes, sizing me up.

"Can I come in?" I asked.

The door closed, and I heard the chain get undone, and then it opened. I stepped into the house.

Landa Xu was the sort of woman that made you doubt Hary Xu's sanity for getting take out when he had a warm steak dinner with a side of creamy mashed potatoes waiting for him at home. She was petite and fit, with long curly black hair, a round ass and a pair of breasts that, while not likely to grab the cover of any men's e-mag should her competition be someone built like me, still managed to fill out a shirt (and I imagined a pair of hands) nicely. Suddenly I wished I'd been an at-risk New Angelino youth seven years ago instead of a cop. I could've been looking at this five days a week instead of drug dealers and naked old men who took too many drugs from their dealer and jacked off in fountains. 

She was dressed in black, but it didn't seem like she'd gone too hard on it, just some dark pants and a simple blouse. And she either hadn't been crying or she'd just applied fresh mascara. 

"I told the police everything I knew last night," she told me as I came into the foyer. In front of us, a winding staircase went up to the second floor and I could see doors to individual rooms there. If Hary Xu had a home office, it'd be up there. The decor was eclectic. There were a lot of what I assumed were reproductions of relics from Earth. An ancient Egyptian burial mask, a statue of a Greek discus thrower, a suit of samurai armor, an American baseball and bat. 

On one wall there was an arrangement of hung FlimsyFilms, showing pictures of Landa and Hary. Or rather Landa orHary. 

"So I'm not sure what 'justice' GJS can provide that they can't," said Landa, her tone heavy and laden with disdain. 

"The police don't always know what to ask," I told her. I looked at a picture of a younger Landa, in her late twenties, standing before the Northern Ocean, the massive body of water they'd created over most of the northern hemisphere during the terraforming of Mars. She was hugging two teenagers, a girl and boy. The image changed and it was Landa again with the same two kids, but everyone was older, and the kids were dressed in gowns and holding diplomas from Olympus State College. Hary Xu was nowhere to be found in either picture.

I took off my sunglasses and hung them at the neck of my blouse, turning to her. 

It might have just been my oversexed imagination, but I could have sworn that her eyes followed my glasses down to my cleavage, lingering slightly on my tits.

"Did you and M. Xu have a happy marriage?"

"Of course," she said.

"That's what you told the police?"

"Yes."

"No kids though, in your happy marriage."

"No."

I didn't say anything, just letting the observation hang. She rushed to fill it.

"They didn't fit in with our plans. I love my job. It wouldn't have been fair to leave my job and abandon the kids I was working with. And Hary traveled so much for work. It wouldn't have been fair to our kids, even."

"Or to us," she added, although it seemed mostly for her benefit.

I turned away, investigating the flimsies again. Hary winning some sort of award. Another of him giving a talk speech in front of a podium. At last, a picture of the two of them together, standing together at a party, laughing at something the third person in the photo was saying, but neither of them touching the other. It was one of the more recent photos. I glanced at Landa.

"How long have you known Hary was having an affair?" I asked. 

She froze and looked at me, her eyes trying to figure me out for a moment. How had I known? I didn't, but her reaction confirmed it. 

"My husband was not having an affair," she said, flatly.

"Please, M. Xu," I said. "Your husband died naked in a neuro den in one of NA's less-than-trendy neighborhoods. He had a transmitter hooked in, getting him on the web, even though it was a closed-circuit den. Were you on a chair somewhere else when he was dying? Was he jacking in to meet you in cyberspace? Did you and he have some kink that couldn't be satisfied in real space?"

"No, of course not."

"Then he wasn't with you. But he was with someone. And even if we didn't have the proof of his death, we do have other proof. Did you know GJS keeps tabs on its employees, M. Xu? Hary was having an affair."

"I didn't know."

"You're lying to me, M. Xu. I don't like being lied to. And it doesn't help me find his killer. There's no proof, but I think he was on with the other woman when he died. I need to find her."

My ruse was having its intended effect. 

"And what help am I going to be, if that's true?"

"You can tell me how it started so I know where to start looking."

"I need to sit down."

She walked into the living room and I followed her, watching her collapse on the sofa. "I'll get you some water," I told her. "Where's the kitchen?"

She pointed it out for me and I went in and opened up cabinet after cabinet finding the glasses. I poured her some tap water when my eyes caught the short wine rack above the refrigerator. The first bottle I pulled was a 2009 Bordeaux. Old fancy Earth wine. Didn't see that every day.

An idea occurred to me, and I pulled open some drawers. Of course, the Xus had an expensive corkscrew, one of those hypodermic needle types that goes right through the cork to the wine so that you don't have pop it out. It also had an aerator in the spout. It took me a minute to realize what the hell it was. I went back through the cabinets until I found the stemware, and then went back to the living room with the bottle of wine tucked under my arm, the glass of water in my right hand and the empty wineglass in my left. I deposited them on the table in front of me.

"Here's the water, but I thought you might need something a little stronger," I said.

Landa looked at the water glass, then turned the bottle of wine to read the label.

"This is Hary's wine," she said. "He got it as a gift for being on the Ganymede discovery team."

"Well, then maybe it's appropriate to drink it when talking about him," I said. I half-filled the wine glass and handed it to her. She took a long sip.

"How long did you know Hary was cheating on you?" I asked when she was done.

She laughed a mirthful little laugh. "From the start. He wasn't cheating. I knew the whole time."

"You let him have an affair?"

"It's so fucking stupid," she said, catching me off-guard with the curse. I swear all the time, but from her it felt a little rude. She was that kind of girl.

"We used to have a great sex life, you know? When we first got married, we were like rabbits. You know how it goes. Are you married?"

"No. Almost, but it didn't work out."

"Oh, what happened?"

"She died," I explained. 

"I'm so sorry," Landa said. She reached out and placed her hand on mine.

"Don't worry about it," I said. "It happened a few years ago. But I can guess how you might have felt."

She smiled at me a little, removing the hand. 

"Well, it didn't last. Even if he was here, which wasn't often until the GJS job, we didn't do it much. I wanted more. I wanted things Hary couldn't give me."

"Like what? Two men?"

"A woman," she said. Her eyes bored into me as I processed this.

"You'd been with a woman before?" I asked.

"Sort of? One of my friends in college was gay. Is gay. She's gay and back then I was...exploring. I let her do things. I really enjoyed it, but I never reciprocated."

"How'd you figure you liked girls midway through your marriage then?"

"For a while, I didn't. I just wanted Hary. But he was away a lot, and I used to fantasize, and sometimes it'd be about women. And then it was mostly about women. And then I wanted to try it. But without Hary. So I told him."

"How'd he take it?" I asked. Her wine glass was getting low, and I poured her a little more. 

"Terribly," she said, pulling the refreshed glass close to her. "He was hurt, of course, felt like he couldn't satisfy me, which was true, but I told him otherwise, that I just wanted to try it every once and a while. And then I told him that if I could have sex with other women, he could too."




The Archaeologist's Mistress Ch. 02



"So you agreed to both have affairs."

Again that mirthful little laugh. "That's the fucking stupid part. I gave him permission and bam! Out he went and found some hussy to suck his dick regularly. And I never worked up the nerve, so I got left high and dry."

"You didn't have someone in mind when you suggested it?"

"No! I just wanted to see what it would be like to have sex with a girl."

Landa paused and she seemed to be thinking for a moment. She blushed a little.

"There was a friend in the fundraising office at work I'd been flirting with. But she got a job in New Beijing and moved away." Landa paused and drank some more wine, savoring what looked to be both wine and the memory. "And I don't know if an inter-office relationship would have been wise."

I couldn't say the same. There'd been Theed, for one. And when Mari had finally convinced me to quit the force and join her as a private investigator, she'd often demand that, as the junior partner, I get down on all fours, climb under the desk, and eat her out. After I did that, well...let's just say if there was any client work, it didn't get done. Inter-office relationships were great, in my book. 

"Were you jealous of Hary's success?" I asked. 

"A little," she admitted, her eyes not meeting mine. She really was a looker, especially with this faint embarrassment coloring her cheeks. I was a little surprised that, in this day and age, a girl hadn't just found her. But I supposed if you thought your husband was the love of your life, you might not know where to look for women who were looking. It might take a more direct approach to flush her out of her shell. 

I scooted a little closer to her on the couch. 

"Do you mind if I have a drink?" I asked, pointing at the one wineglass in her hand.

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry," she said, as though she'd brought the wine out instead of me. She handed me the glass and then picked up the bottle and poured me the remainder of the wine. I took a sip, and then "accidentally" dribbled some of the wine down my chin and onto my blouse.

"Oh, shit!" I said, leaping up, fishing the sunglasses out of the blouse. "I'm so clumsy!"

No one has ever accused me of this.

"Oh, let me get a towel," said Landa, rising to her feet with me. 

"I should really pour some water on it," I said, following her into the kitchen. "Do you mind?" 

Landa followed my gesture down to my cleavage, and realized that I was talking about taking my shirt off. 

"No..." she said. She seemed a little worried, but I ignored it. Off came the crop-top jacket, and then the blouse. I flipped on the faucet and ran the blouse under it. I didn't really care too much. At least it wasn't a bloodstain.

When I looked up, Landa was staring at my chest. I'd worn a push up bra that matched the blouse, and I guess I didn't blame her. If I didn't see my tits every day, I would have stared too.

"Do you like them?" I asked her, laughing. Landa's face flushed a deep crimson at being caught.

"They're very...nice," she said.

"They'd better be, they were expensive," I said. I wrung out the blouse. Most of the wine was gone. "Is there a place to put this? It's thin, it should dry quick."

"Over here," said Landa. She took the blouse from my hands and draped it over a chair that got a lot of sunlight from the bay windows in the kitchen. When she turned around to face me, I caught her looking at my tits again.

"Those are fake?" she asked.

"Yep. Gene therapy, years ago. They feel completely real, though. Both for me, and, well..."

"Would you like to touch them?" I finished.

"Oh, no, I couldn't! I would--" she said.

"It wouldn't bother me," I interrupted. "It actually would be a little fun. A woman hasn't touched me, since...well."

I didn't finish the thought. Landa still looked hesitant, and I stepped forward, thrusting my chest out. "Go on."

She reached out a hand, looking awkward as all hell, and gave my right tit a little rub. I grabbed her left hand and dragged it to me, encouraging her to use both. 

"Mmm, that's nice," I said.

"You're very soft," she murmured. I laughed.

"I'm glad you like them," I told her. "Here, this'll be better."

I shrugged out of the shoulder straps of my bar, pulling my tits free of the cups, letting the bra slip down and rest just above my waist. Landa framed my breasts with her hands, rubbing her thumbs across them, until they made contact with my nipples, which hardened under her touch. She rubbed her thumbs in little circles, and I groaned. I wasn't really sure who was seducing who, now.

She cupped my right breast in both hands, lifting it up as she lowered her head down. She paused, her breath warm and moist just centimeters from the glorious pink nub. The way she just went for it made me doubt she'd never reciprocated on her college friend. But she glanced up at me before continuing.

"Can I?" she asked.

"Please," I begged her, and she pulled my nipple into her mouth. Oh, fuck, she was nice. Her mouth was hot and she was sucking hard, pausing occasionally to squeeze it gently between her teeth, then rubbing her active little tongue all around before flicking my nipple over and over. I placed a hand on her head, guiding her to the other tit, which was growing a little lonely.

I was burning hot after a little of this, and I got a little too into it, pushing at her head to encourage her to go exploring south of the border. She backed away, staring at my tits, each nipple hard and glistening with her spit. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "I got carried away, I shouldn't have done--"

I didn't wait for her to finish, grabbing her wrist and pulling her close to me again. Her breath caught in her chest, but she didn't push away. I stroked her cheek a little, then stepped into her, pushing her up against the marble countertop, feeling her body pressing against mine. I lifted her chin and my lips met hers. Her mouth opened immediately to accommodate my tongue, which I sent roving with gusto. After a moment she was kissing me back, freeing the hand in my grip to run it through my hair while her other hand groped at my tit. 

My hands found the edge of her shirt at her waist, pulling it up over the tops of her breasts. I pulled the cups of her bra down, giving me easier access to her chest. I played with her nipple with one hand while I ran the other down her bare torso, feeling how soft the skin on the side of her body was. My hand slipped inside the waist of her pants, then inside her underwear, running across her pubic hair, cropped so close is felt a little like fine sandpaper. When my fingers began to probe against her pussy lips, she gasped and the hand she'd put in my hair quickly grabbed my wrist. I thought she was going to stop me from going further, but she kissed me harder instead, pressing on my wrist to drive it deeper.

Instead I broke the kiss, pulling my hand out of her pants. I kissed down her neck, pausing to lick at the junction where her throat and collarbones met. My hands slipped behind her and undid her bra, whipping it away when I discovered it was strapless. I began to squat until my mouth was level with her nipples, sucking and licking each one in turn until it was hard and wet. Landa groaned, her eyes half shut as they watched me lick the valley between her breasts, and kiss the soft skin underneath. I moved further down her body, paying special attention to her navel before I was squatting in front of her. My hands went to her fly, and I looked up at her before continuing.

She said nothing, but nodded.

I undid the clasp, then the zipper, parting the fabric and pulling the flaps away, pressing my nose into plump mound concealed by her panties. My fingers dug in along her waistband, and I yanked her pants down a little roughly, until they were bunched at her feet. I helped her step out of her shoes and her socks and her crumpled pants, then kicked her clothes off to the side. 

My hands went roving back up her firm calves and gripped the well-shaped columns of her thighs. It didn't feel like there was an inch of fat on her. It did feel like she was wet, though--when I cupped her pussy, the fabric there was damp. I stood again, licking my way up her mostly nude form until I reached her mouth, pulling one of those thighs around me, my hand providing some leverage on the other, pushing up.

She seemed to get what I was asking, hopping up on the countertop almost immediately. If I was taller than her standing, she was taller sitting on the counter, and my chin rested nicely in the space between her breasts. I began to kiss and suck at her cleavage and my hands hooked into her panties and pulled. She lifted her hips a little to let me pull them away and I let them slide down her legs to her ankles. I stepped back, pressing her knees apart, and she slipped on foot out of her panties, so that they dangled off other foot as her legs spread for me. She scooted her hips forward, until they were resting just on the edge of the counter.

I knelt before her, kissing my way down her inner thigh, pausing before I reached the entrance to her pussy, the wide expanse of hair shaved down to peach fuzz. You could've called her clit "Goldilocks" because it was just perfectly average; not too big, not too small. It was perched just above her lips, peeking out from under its hood. I placed one hand on her taut stomach, feeling how nervous and excited she was, her breath coming rapidly and shallow. With my other hand, I reached up and stroked her breast, teasing the nipple with the tips of my fingers. Landa was shifting under my touch. Her bare feet pressed into my sides, gripping me, pushing me a little closer to her. 

My thumb and forefinger found her nipple, squeezing it at the same moment I opened my mouth and swung my tongue across her pussy.

"Oh," said Landa, as my tongue probed gently around her folds, tasting her intoxicating body. My fingers pinched her nipple tighter. "Oh!"

My other hand rolled its way up her body towards her other breast, which was discovered to be occupied by her own hand. I fought off the intruder until I had control of both nipples, pinching and pulling on both as my tongue pushed into her pussy, exploring its sweet heat. Landa was rolling her hips up and down a little as I worked, trying to fit more of my tongue inside her, but unfortunately for her, I was at my limit. 

My hands came off her breasts to join my mouth at her crotch, and she moaned in disappointment. Only momentarily I hoped. I slipped my tongue back out of her, lapping at her outer lips, tracking higher on her until my left hand found her clitoral hood, pulling it back and away, revealing the whole thing to me. I put my middle and ring finger into my mouth, wetting them, before slipping them into her. Then I lowered my mouth over her clit and sucked. 

Landa gasped at the pressure, and I eased off for a moment before beginning to lash at her clit with my tongue, slow and easy. The fingers inside her crooked and went traveling up her outer wall, until finally they hit the spongy soft area of her g-spot.

"Oh, yes!" Landa murmurred. I began to waggle my fingers, running them in opposite directions up and down her g-spot, the movement getting longer as it expanded with her arousal. I was just getting into the act myself when she lost it, her hands unable to decide what to do; grab my hair, grab her breasts, or grab the counter to steady her. Her pussy was an indecisive vise, spasming rapidly around my fingers as she came on them. Her moans were sharp and in staccato time with each contraction, and I kept working on her clit and pussy through the orgasm until finally her breath became relatively normal. 

I slipped back from the counter, licking my fingers, cleaning them of her juices. When I rose, Landa looked at me, her entire body seeming flushed, beads of sweat dotted around her chest and neck. I turned and walked to the doorway of the kitchen.

"The bedroom is this way?" I asked, pointing. I didn't wait for an answer, passing through the doorway and making a turn for the stairs.

Landa caught me before I reached the first step, a hand on my wrist pausing me just in front of them. Somewhere between the kitchen counter and the doorway, she'd lost her shirt, leaving her completely nude. She undid the clasp on my bra, tossing it over the cap at the end of the bannister. She kissed the small of my back, her hands reaching around the grope my breasts, squeezing them roughly, her hard little nipples pushing into my back as she pushed up against me. One hand rushed down my body, dipping into my pants and underwear, and I murmured my appreciation when a finger bumped into my prominent clit. The tip of another began to press around the lips of my pussy, already damp from working on Landa. Her other hand made its way to my crotch as well, finding the zipper in the front of my pants, slipping them down. However, the pants were a little too tight, and she had to pull her hand away from my pussy to get them down over my ass, and I assisted by slipping my panties down as well. She squatted to pull all my clothes off, pausing only to undo the buckles on my pumps and letting me step out of them.

As she rose back up, I turned around, feeling her breasts press against my body, her nipples rolling up against my stomach and I caught her head, bringing it up for another kiss. This time she beat me to the punch, her tongue slipping out of her mouth and into mine with a determination that caught me a little off-guard. I hadn't been kissed like that by a girl since Mari, and I have to confess that, cliche though it may be, it actually did make me a little weak in the knees. One of Landa's hands was back on my pussy, slipping back and forth against the labia as her tongue had its way with my mouth. A finger slipped inside me and I moaned into her mouth when another quickly joined it. There was a long moment where I simply let her plunge her fingers in and out of my body while she kissed me.

She slipped them out and I took her hand, holding her fingers between mine, and sucked them into my mouth, tasting the sweet of my own pussy on her. Landa watched me with a bit of awed lust for a moment, before pouting.

"I wanted to taste you," she said. 

I let her go, sinking down to lowest stair. I leaned back, one hand cupping a tit, teasing the long nipple, the suggestion of the desire for it to be her hand doing it to me hanging in the air. I opened my legs, stepping my knees apart, and used my other hand to spread my labia for her, looking down at the view myself. 

"There's plenty more where that came from, sweetheart," I said. "You still can."

Landa paused, looking a little unsure of herself, over her head. Or soon to be, possibly. She was Julius Caesar standing on the far bank of the Rubicon, and staring up at her as she considered crossing, the brief cold thought that Hary Xu got what was coming to him for not being on this minx 24/7 came through my mind. Her lithe little form took my breath away, curls of her hair cascading down her chest, teasing me with a view of her nipples that appeared and disappeared with rise and fall of her upper body as her lungs filled with air. 

My facial expression must have given me away because suddenly she was grinning at me.

"You want this almost as much as I do, don't you?" she asked. I just nodded. That seemed to be all the acknowledgement she needed. She sunk to her knees, and I groaned when she cat-crawled to me, her rolling hips moving the spheres of her ass in a delightful ripple. 

When she reached the stairs, she wrapped her arms under my thighs, pulling me a little closer to the edge. She tried to tease me back the way I had her, by licking up my thigh, but I wasn't having it. I wove a hand through those beautiful black curls, dragging her head the last bit of distance to my pussy. I wanted to pull her all the way into my crotch, the tawdy thought of forcing this inexperienced woman to go down on me making me burn a little with excitement, but I thought better of it, letting her hair go before things got out of hand and I scared her off. She stared down at my pussy, my fingers still spreading it apart for her, and then looked up at me.

"It's very pretty," she told me.

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," I muttered. She grinned at me and nodded, getting into it herself. 

Unlike the first guy I'd let fiddle around down there shortly after graduating from St. Cassandra's Academy and escaping the clutches of the Sisters of Sweet Mercy, Landa had no trouble in locating my clit right off the bat. It pays to be able to examine the equipment yourself before the game, I suppose. Not that my clit is hard to find. In fact, I'd say it's hard to miss. 

Landa gave it a few light strokes of her tongue, flipping it back and forth, before moving further down and lapping deliberately. I twisted my hand, full of her hair, around the back of her head, encouraging her to explore. She nestled in closer, the heart-shaped curve of her bare ass rising into the air like the top of a pair of balloons that had been tied together. 

I pushed her head down and her tongue reached out, the hesitation palpable as it found its way down towards my pussy. She started slow, mimicking some of what I'd done to her on the kitchen counter, her tongue tracing my outer lips as I made encouraging sounds. 

"Oh, fuck," I moaned as she took the initiative to press her tongue inside my pussy. One of her hands arced over my thigh, stretching towards my clit, where stroked gently in time with her tongue. Her other hand ran up to cup the bottom my tit, and I grabbed her wrist, dragging her fingers over my nipple, getting her to pull sweetly on the long, hard nub of it.

I began to lose myself, the heat radiating out of me, my thighs tightening around Landa's head. Her face was so soft, the strands of her hair not bound up in my fist matted down between my legs and her ears. My toes curled and I raised my feet off the ground, my knees tilting together a little, as I bit my lip. Her fingers on my nipple were a little too tight and it hurt a little but it also felt so good I couldn't bring myself to pry her fingers away, and besides, I didn't want to distract her and cause her to lose the rhythm. 

And glad I was she didn't. My breath came in a sharp ragged staccato as I came, moaning wordlessly as she licked me along, neither her tongue nor her fingers stopping their assault. My hand in her hair went slack and I forced her hand off my tit, then pushed her head away to get her to stop.

She looked a little confused, almost hurt.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing's wrong," I assured her.

"Was it good?"

I laughed a little, and just nodded, my cheeks and chest flush at how good it was. For a moment she seemed even more wounded, then realized what I was saying, and joined in the laughter. 

She was kissing me, long and deep, her lips pulling at mine as she pressed me against the stairs until I pushed her away to keep the edges from digging too deep into my back.

"We could go find a more comfortable room," said Landa.

"I would like that," I said. "But to be honest, hon, I have to find something else."

"What's that?"

"Whatever your husband left behind."

She frowned at me. "GJS is covering its tracks."

"What?"

"You," she said, jabbing a finger into the flesh of my tit hard enough it hurt. "You're just here to make sure he didn't have anything incriminating on the company."

"No, hon," I said. "I'm here to find out who killed Hary. But to do that, I have to look at his office. He had one here, didn't he?"

"He does."

I sat up and pulled her close. I could tell she was pissed, but the proximity of my naked body had the desired effect on her, and I felt her nipples harden against my skin.