A New Investigation

On the theory that she was connected to our drug investigation, we got a search warrant for Jenny's Tampa apartment. I tagged along when the warrant was executed. We found two things of interest. The first was a supply of pills that seemed to match what Ed had seized in Immokalee. The second was a one-page "personal services contract" between J. Mott and something called "Mangrove Coast Productions, LLC." A quick look on the internet disclosed that there was a "Mangrove Coast Productions" in St. Pete. Its website advertised "high quality adult videos" available, of course, only to those over 18. The website also said that the company was looking for male and female models over 18.

No one in Southwest Florida had been able to quickly identify the pills seized in the Immokalee raid so we had sent them to the Agency lab in Northern Virginia. It took a few days, but Ed handed me a copy of an e-mail from an Agency chemist saying that they had identified our pills and asking us to call.

Ed let me join that call. The chemist opened our conversation by saying, "You boys found some obscure stuff. We've never seen this in the States before. We did some digging. It comes from Europe. The Germans identified it about three years ago. The English equivalent to what they call it is Kleptopam."

"What is it?" Ed asked.

"I suppose that you could call it the ultimate date-rape drug," the chemist responded. "Rather than leaving the user lethargic or unconscious, it induces a euphoric feeling. It also works on the parts of the brain that control our judgment and our behavioral and moral boundaries. It makes a personal very suggestible. So, assume that you are at a party with a woman with whom you really want to have sex. Assume also that she can't stand you and is one of those 'save it for marriage' types. Slip of few milligrams of Kleptopam into her drink and wait 15 or 20 minutes. Then walk up to her and tell her that she wants to give you a blow job. While there are varying degrees of susceptibility to this stuff, your odds would be pretty good that she would unzip you and do you right there in front of everyone and be proud that she had."

"Jesus," Ed said.

"There's more," the chemist replied. "This stuff stays in your system quite a while. So, there's a good chance that the woman you drugged last night to blow you would go home with you and still be fired up to do you many more times over the next day or two. It is also highly addictive. Once you hooked her with this stuff, you could keep her hot and ready to go by giving her more Kleptopam periodically. She'd be begging you for it."

The chemist paused. Then he added, "Like I said, this stuff does affect some people differently. And, you don't want to mix it with too much alcohol or your dream date could go out of control and get violent."

"Does this shit have any legitimate medical uses?" I asked.

"None," our chemist answered. But, it might be useful to the intelligence agencies."

"How so?" Ed asked.

"Give someone whom you're interrogating some of this stuff and they'd probably tell you everything they know with enthusiasm. It's just conjecture, but the Germans think the stuff was originally developed by the Russians for exactly that purpose before someone recognized its commercial potential."

We sent a sample of the pills we took from Jenny Mott's apartment to our lab. They were confirmed as Kleptopam.

A day later, Ed and I sat in his office. "Harry," Ed said, "I'm giving you a lead role on this because you already had info on the girl. However, nothing gets said to your buddy, her boss. Agreed?" I agreed.

"What we have," Ed summarized, "is Kleptopam, porn DVDs, and Jenny Mott with the shit beaten out of her in Immokalee. We have Kleptopam and a 'personal service contract' with Mangrove Coast in Mott's apartment in Tampa. We suspect that Mangrove Coast makes the type of DVDs we found in Immokalee."

"It looks to me like Mangrove Coast is the next line of inquiry," I said.

"How do we get in there?" Ed asked. "We don't learn anything which we don't already know just by having someone order smut films."

"Shit." I said, "The only other avenue in which I see is to have someone respond to the ad for 'models.' 'Model' likely means an actor in their porn. It's hard to wear a wire if you're naked."

"Well, I'm not too worried about the wire," Ed said. If we get someone in there who gets some good information, we have probable cause based on a 'reliable informant' that will get us a search warrant. The more challenging question is: who do we get to go in whom we can trust not to blow the operation and who can handle himself or herself in a pinch. Ideally, I'd like to put two people in so we have something a little bit like back up."

Very softly I said, "Ed let me think about that."

Driving home, I was in some turmoil. I very much wanted to get whoever had beaten the shit out of Jenny Mott, and that seemed likely to be tied to Mangrove Coast. I wasn't that upset about being filmed fucking and sucking, provided that it stayed hetero. I was concerned about my reputation in the Agency if it got out that I'd gone undercover as a porn performer. What had happened to Jenny showed that this was dangerous, and I didn't see how you could make skin flicks and carry a weapon. Most importantly, I had no idea how Liz would react.

I discussed the situation with Liz when she got home. Liz surprised me a little bit. "Karen and John care a lot about Jenny. After the way we deceived them in Operation Tarpon, I think that we owe it to them to run this out. You say that Ed Needham is a straight guy. You get Ed to commit that he tells no one exactly what we did. He is the only person that knows we are in there and he is the sole contact. As for our personal safety, I think that we'll be ok as long as we stay together. My guess is that they give the actors that Kleptopam to get uninhibited performances. Rule number one is that we don't drink the water. I think that we have to do this."

I guess that I still had a dubious look on my face. Liz put her arm around me. "Hey, it might be fun fucking in front of strangers." I followed Liz to our bedroom where we rehearsed our fucking.

I talked very privately with Ed the next day. We were over the line of the Agency rule against married agents working together and Ed had to be both persuasive and dissembling to get the Tampa SAC to release Liz for a vaguely defined investigation run from Ft. Myers. However, it fell in place. A few days later, Ed had created a new e-mail account for us that automatically and surreptitiously copied everything going both ways to a private account of Ed's. We had a fictitious address in Orlando and Florida driver's licenses with that address, our pictures, and the names Lise and Harvey Stoneburner.

Using the internet access associated with the new e-mail, I reached out to Mangrove Coast's website that night to say that my wife and I were interested in modeling. We had a response the next night which asked for resumes and full length pictures of each of us. The pictures weren't a worry because Liz and I hadn't been in Florida long enough that it was likely that any bad guys knew us on sight. We took full length, clothed, pictures of each other. We had anticipated the resume request and had written fakes not too far off of our real lives. We doubted that we'd be seriously questioned about our backgrounds. All of that was e-mailed to Mangrove Coast.

We heard nothing for a couple of days. I was beginning to think that, for whatever reason, Mangrove Coast hadn't taken our bait.

That Friday night, we got an e-mail asking us to appear for an interview at Mangrove Coast the next Monday afternoon. Liz and I spent much of the weekend getting our story straight. The basic cover story was that we understood that Mangrove Coast made porn. Our sex life was boring and we were looking for new thrills. We wanted to try making some porn.

Mangrove Coast was about as far from the beach as you get in St. Petersburg. It was in a non-descript older building. Parking was on street. Inside was one large room with no partitions or cubicles. There were a number of metal desks at which people, mostly young, were working on laptops. The seemingly oldest person in the room got up from his desk and walked over.

The man was reasonably large, about my size. I guessed him at around 50, or a hard road late 40s. He had a slight beer gut, and hadn't shaved. He wore jeans and an open collar button-down shirt with a stain on it. At the very base of his open collar, I saw the top of a tattoo.

In a somewhat gruff voice, the man asked, "You the Stoneburners?"

I said that we were. He extended his hand, "Chico Johnson," he said. "I own Mangrove Coast Productions."

I took his hand. Chico tried to do a death grip handshake. I was ready for that and gave it right back. Chico's eyes narrowed a fraction. Chico looked about as much like a "Chico" as I do. What he looked more like was a redneck biker without the leathers.

We followed Chico to a desk. He sat down. There were no other chairs, so we remained standing. "You understand what we do here?" Chico asked.

We'd decided to let Liz handle as much of the "interview" as possible on the theory that a woman, particularly an attractive one, is less threatening. "Yes, you make smut films," Liz answered.

Chico smiled. "You guys want to act in smut films?"

"Yes," Liz answered.

"Why?"

"Things are getting boring just fucking and sucking in our bedroom," Liz replied. "We thought that it might be a kick to do it on film and know that people are sitting in their rooms getting themselves off by watching us get off."

"Fair enough," Chico said. "Take your clothes off. Put 'em on my desk."

We had expected this. With no hesitation, Liz and I kicked our shoes off. I pulled off my polo shirt as Liz pulled her top over her head then unhooked her bra. We laid our tops on the desk. Chico's eyes were riveted on Liz. Liz and I unbuckled our belts and undid our trousers almost in unison. I pushed my trousers and boxers down together, pulled my feet out, and laid my clothes on the desk. Liz took off only her trousers. In just panties, she straightened up, looked Chico straight in the eye, and smiled. Then Liz bent forward slightly and wiggled her panties down her hips and legs seductively. After she stepped out of her panties, she made a show of folding them and laying them on Chico's desk.

Liz and I both stood nude in front of Chico's desk. We stood straight with our shoulders square. Chico looked Liz's bare front up, down, and back up again. "You're damned hot," he said.

In an even voice, Liz said, "Thank you."

Shifting his gaze to me, Chico asked, "Are you really married?"

"We are," I said.

"It must be nice getting a piece of that ass every night," Chico responded. I let that go. He could think whatever he wanted.

Chico stood up. "Follow me," he said. Nude, we followed Chico through the room between the metal desks where his employees were working. Every one of them gave us a through look-over as we walked past. Liz drew wolf whistles from one guy and one girl.

Chico led us to a door at the back of the room. He took out a key and unlocked the door. We followed him in. Chico flipped a switch and the room was bathed in very bright lights.

"This here's our studio," Chico said. A door to the side opened and a young Goth girl walked out. "That's Jazz, our videographer," Chico explained to us. "Jazz, look 'em over and see what you think."

Jazz silently circled us a couple of times and then pushed me farther from Liz with a tattooed forearm. Jazz got very close to Liz and began playing with a nipple. Not surprisingly, Liz's nipples hardened. Jazz roughly shoved a hand between Liz's legs and fingered her clit, watching Liz's face the whole time. Jazz walked behind Liz, put out both hands, and pulled Liz's hips apart, exposing her asshole. Jazz stared at Liz's asshole for a moment before taking her hands away.

Jazz came to stand in front of me. She took my dick in her hand and I realized that she was wearing dark cotton gloves with the fingers cut off. Jazz stroked me until I hardened, all the while watching my face. Jazz then went behind me and gave me the same asshole inspection which she had given Liz. Jazz finally took her hands away. She nodded once at Chico and left the room. Through the whole inspection, Jazz had not said a word.

"OK, let's go back out front and do business," Chico said. We followed him back to his desk, my still hard dick waving left and right as I walked.

Chico sat back down. "Let me see your licenses." We pulled our wallets out of our clothes and gave him the phony driver's licenses. He looked the over carefully and handed them back. He pulled out two sheets of paper. "We'll call you when we need you. We need these contracts back signed at your first gig. We pay $150 per session. You guys willing to get it on with others? That adds $50 per session."

Liz and I nodded. "Ok," Chico said. "I need notes from a doctor saying that you don't have any STDS. You can go. We'll call you." We got dressed and left.

I had Ed phony up a couple of medical certificates that Lise and Harvey were free of STDs. We waited several days before Chico called on the cell number I'd sent with our initial application.

Chico's message was terse. "Be here at eight tomorrow night. If you want to take something before to get loose, that's fine. Just don't tell me."

We parked outside of Mangrove Coast Productions the following evening. The front door was unlocked. The seven or eight people who had been sitting at the desks during our first visit were gone. Now, there was only Chico.

"Ditch the clothes and come into the studio," Chico said. Liz and I stripped off and went through the door in the back. The bright lights were already on. There was no sign of Jazz. What I had failed to notice before were a number of video cameras mounted on brackets at various heights along all four walls. "Jazz runs the cameras from the control room," Chico explained, gesturing towards the door Jazz had come out of on our first visit.. "Now, let's start with a BJ. Dude, when you're about to come, pull out and shoot it in her face."

Chico went into the control room leaving Liz and me nude under the lights. Liz stepped up to me and kissed me. She reached down and started running her hand over my dick. I reached between her legs to stat fingering her."

Chico's voice blasted out of a speaker. "No dumbshit! I didn't tell you to do anything with her except shoot your load in her face. Try it again!"

This time, I stood stock still as Liz fondled me to an erection and then took me in her mouth. Liz gives a wonderful blow job, and was doing her best work that night. I assumed that Chico wanted this to go on a while so I held back as long as I could. Finally, I pulled out and shot all over Liz's face. When I finished, Liz turned her face to one of the cameras and smiled.

After a moment, Chico came out of the control room. He handed Liz a pretty grungy-looking towel. In his other hand, he had what looked like a whiskey bottle. "Not bad, but you're kinda wooden. Take a shot of this to loosen up."

Liz and I declined the proffered drink. Chico shot me another ambiguous look. "Ok," he said. Pointing at Liz, he said, "On the floor on your back." To me, Chico said, "Eat her, but be sure to pull your head away pretty often so we can close-up on her cunt."

Chico left the room and Liz lay down on the floor. I got on my hands and knees between her legs and began licking her clit with my tongue. I did remember to move my head regularly so that a camera could zoom in on Liz. It wasn't long before Liz began moaning and gasping much more than she usually does. Liz explained later than, when she lay down on her back, she saw a number of microphones suspended from the ceiling.

Liz and I kept it up for quite a long time. Finally, Liz wrapped her thighs around my head, which was my signal to bring her off. I focused my tongue on a spot I had learned well and Liz soon had a very loud and, I think genuine, orgasm.

We had just finished and were still on the floor when Chico walked back into the room. "That was better," he said. He held some cash in his hand. "Here's your money. Get out of here. We'll call when we want you again."

On the drive home, Liz said, "You know, this would almost be fun if Chico and that building weren't so scuzzy."

"We know that Jenny ended up there somehow," I said. "I wonder if her acting partner beat her up or if Chico did."

I gave Ed a very private report the next morning. We were in, but we hadn't learned anything other than that Mangrove Coast was a pornographer, which we already knew. Making porn with only consenting adults isn't illegal.

Ed waited until I finished my report. He responded with one sentence. "Jenny Mott died last night."

I knew that Chico Johnson, or whatever his real name was, was connected to Jenny's death. I was determined to find out how.

Liz and I were called back on another weeknight about nine days later. When we entered Mangrove Coast, Chico was there with another couple, who were already nude. Chico introduced them as "Renate" and "Pierre." They looked and sounded more like Belle Glade than Europe. "Renate" was very thin with short blonde hair, small breasts, a boyish ass, and dark circles under her eyes. "Pierre" was a slight young man with blond hair but a fairly long penis. Both of them looked a bit scared and bewildered. I decided that financial need coupled with the length of "Pierre's" dick had led them into small-time porn.

Chico was back with his whiskey bottle. "You really ought o have some of this to give the performances we need," he said. Liz and I declined again, getting another nasty look from Chico. "Renate" and "Pierre" both took long drinks, to Chico's evident satisfaction. It didn't take long for scared and bewildered to turn into giddy.

"Renate" came over to me, took my dick in her small hands, and said, "Wow. I can't wait to get this in me."

"Pierre" stood in front of Liz with his already stiffening dick in his hand and asked her, "Can you take all of this?" I felt sorry for them.

Chico led the four of us into the "studio." He instructed that we'd start out simple with "Pierre" fucking Liz and me fucking "Renate" side-by-side. "Pierre" and I were to pull out before we came in order to create the obligatory "cum-shots." We got to it. "Pierre" came rather quickly, quicker than Chico wanted, I expect. It hurt me that Liz had to let him shoot all over her. I took longer with "Renate," and was worried that I'd go limp, because she just wasn't arousing. I finally pulled out and shot into "Renate's" face and over her breasts. She seemed to think that was thrilling. As I sat back on my haunches, she jerked forward and started to take me in her mouth.

Chico came out of the room laughing. He took a swig from his bottle and said, "Hold on fireplug. We need to set up another shot." The next scene was more complicated, with "Pierre" fucking "Renate" in the ass while "Renate" ate Liz and Liz sucked me. It was really too complicated but, after more from Chico's bottle, "Renate" and "Pierre" were very enthusiastic.

We finished the scene somehow. When we were done, Chico came out from the control room again. He had taken his pants off. His erection was pointing out below his beer gut. I thought, "Oh shit. I'm going to have to fight the bastard if he wants to fuck Liz."

I was actually relieved to hear Chico say, "Pierre, you have a really hot ass."

"Pierre" obediently got on all fours and stuck his bare ass up, saying "If you want some, take it." "Renate" was giggling uncontrollably.

Liz and I had moved back against one wall. As Chico started working his dick into "Pierre's" ass, Jazz came out of the control room. Without a word, she handed Liz and I each two $100 bills. We took the money and left. We wanted out of there so much that we almost went out onto the street naked.