Assets and Liabilities

They ordered a bottle of Chianti to celebrate her accomplishment but did not talk much about the DWM case after the initial toast. The meal was excellent and their conversation flowed effortlessly as they sat in the candlelit booth in the back corner.

He grabbed her hand and said, "Megan, I want you to know how proud of you I am, not only for catching these discrepancies but for risking so much to get me these files."

Her heart fluttered when he grabbed her hand, and she was lost in his eyes as he was talking to her. She heard her name and some glowing accolades, but the vibrations of his voice were resonating in her core vastly more than his words were recognized in her head. It seemed entirely natural and ordained as his lips met hers, and she felt him pull her closer to his side. The two held the kiss for a long moment, then leaned back and looked at each other, only to return their lips to each other's, this time opening their mouths to accept the other's tongue.

The black-vested waiter cleared his throat and then asked, "Will there be anything else?"

"Just the check, please," Cassidy responded and placed his hand on Megan's knee under the table.

He walked her back to her car and they stood in the parking lot and embraced again. Each kiss was hotter than the other, and Megan found herself falling for the handsome Agent.

"Would you like to follow me home," Megan offered in a moment of desire, then quickly added, "you know, to make sure I get there safely." Cassidy stopped her as she leaned in for another kiss.

"Megan, under any other circumstances we'd be there already," Cassidy assured, "but I can't be involved with an asset in an on-going case." She looked up at him confused and dejected. He opened her car door and watched her slide in and secure her seatbelt. "But understand that once we put that animal behind bars, I'm going to hold you to that offer."

"Until then, Agent Cassidy."

"Until then, Ms. Corrigan."

Cassidy watched her drive away and repeated 'Duty, Honor, Country' to himself as he adjusted his semi-erect cock in his khakis.

***** Two weeks later *****

Megan was sprawled out on her couch in her apartment after work on Thursday, half empty Chinese take-out containers on the coffee table. It was just past six o'clock and she was already dressed in her flannel pajamas. Her love life had been on a dry spell lately, and the near miss with Cassidy had her additionally frustrated. She had her favorite erotic story site up on her cell phone and was just about to push her hand into her pajama bottoms for some much needed 'dessert' when it started to ring.

"Hey, Sam," Megan greeted as she clicked the answer button and took the last bite of her egg roll.

Sam replied excitedly, "TURN ON THE NEWS, TURN ON THE NEWS!" foregoing any customary greeting.

Megan clicked on her TV and listened to the pretty blonde lady standing in front of a swarm of police cars in what appeared to be a gated community. "Lisa Walters coming to you live from the home of local businessman and purported mob boss Giovanni DeFazio, as he is being taken into custody on alleged extortion, protection, and racketeering charges."

"THEY GOT HIM...THEY GOT HIM," Sam yelled into the phone, "AND ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"I didn't have anything to do with this," Megan lied, as she looked at all the dangerous looking men standing inside the DeFazio compound. She sat forward and her insides tingled when she saw Agent Cassidy leading the handcuffed, grey-haired man down his driveway and into the police car.

The next day on her way to work, Megan had to drive through a gauntlet of news trucks to get into the parking lot of her firm. There were several reporters camped out in front of the main entrance, barking questions and sticking microphones in the faces of anyone entering and exiting the building. Megan quietly slipped in the back entrance and up the stairwell to her office. As she put down her briefcase and hung up her coat, she was grabbed by an extremely excited Samantha.

"Can you believe it? Look at all the cameras. You're going to be famous."

"Take a breath, Sam," Megan replied, "remember, Ms. Hogan never got back to me. I have nothing to do with this."

The click, click, click in the hall announced the approaching Ms. Hogan. She paused by Megan's desk and said, "My office, now," and continued down the hall. Megan shared a scared look with Sam and then followed her boss down the hall to the corner office.

"Shut the door!" commanded Ms. Hogan, as she settled in the hi-backed leather office chair. "Do you have any idea why there is a gaggle of reporters outside our offices?"

"No, ma'am" answered Megan honestly. She had her suspicions, but she honestly did not know why they were there.

"Apparently, the FBI somehow got their hands on our client's private files in this DeFazio thing, and now we're going to be forced to supply an official comment on the matter." Megan felt Ms. Hogan looking through her eyes, directly into her soul. She knew she would be fired on the spot if she admitted her involvement. Plus, she remembered Cassidy's warning that DeFazio may even have someone on the inside, so there was no way she could come clean about it to anyone, even if she wanted to.

"I'm holding a press conference outside at ten o'clock and I want you there," said Ms. Hogan, still giving Megan the death-stare.

"Me, ma'am?"

"Yes you dear," Ms. Hogan responded, as her tone and expression lightened. "You were the first to bring this whole DeFazio thing to my attention, so it's only right that you are with me as I try to tame these monkeys."

"OK, ma'am" Megan replied meekly.

"Remember, you don't say a word to anyone, you hear? I'm just throwing you a bone for a heads-up catch."

Megan stood silently in the background as Ms. Hogan dutifully responded to each question with the company's policies on file security, client confidentiality and the firm's duties to their clients. Megan was amazed at how effortlessly she handled the volatile situation and envied her boss's aplomb.

*****

Between the reporters, microphones, clicking cameras and the press conference, Megan's nerves were shot by the time she followed her boss back to her office. Ms. Hogan removed the crystal decanter full of amber liquor from the tray behind her desk and filled the bottom third of two glasses, handing one to Megan. "THAT'S how you get to be a Senior Partner," Ms. Hogan said, then lifted her glass in a toast.

Megan carefully clinked her glass to her boss's and followed her lead, the smooth Kentucky Bourbon burning her throat as she emptied her glass. Megan coughed and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, as she watched Ms. Hogan refill the glasses.

"One more for the road," Ms. Hogan toasted, and they both threw back the second shot.

"For the road, ma'am?" Megan questioned, as Ms. Hogan took her empty glass.

"I'm calling it a day after that cluster-fuck," Ms. Hogan explained, "and frankly you look pretty spent yourself. Take the rest of the day off and I'll see you on Monday morning."

"Thank you, ma'am, have a great weekend," Megan replied, the calming effects of the bourbon already warming her body.

As Megan walked out to her car, she noticed that all the reporters and news trucks were gone. Apparently, they got what they wanted from Ms. Hogan's press conference. All the attention and activity had her pretty revved-up and she felt a little disappointed that the circus had left town.

She looked across the parking lot and saw the Victory Bar & Grille was open. 'Maybe one more for the road,' she thought to herself, as she walked over toward the large neon V.

*****

Donna Andiamo busily typed on her laptop in the back corner of the Victory Bar & Grille, racing against a deadline, as always. She was the lead City Desk reporter for the Times Union and had been for the past fifteen years. At 5-foot-9, with her good looks and flaming red hair, she had turned down several offers from the networks to be an on-air talent over the years, because she had print news running through her veins. Besides, even in 2019, no network was going to hand over a lead anchor spot to a 40-year old lesbian, and she was damned if she was going to go back into the closet over a pay bump and fringe benefits.

She looked up from her laptop as the unsteady brunette walked into the dimly lit and nearly empty bar and immediately recognized her as the young woman in the background from the press conference. She fired off the draft of her story to her editor, attached to a message for him to look for an update before press time, and closed her laptop.

Megan hoisted herself up on a barstool near the front of the bar and ordered a Jack-and-Diet Coke.

"Hold on, Scotty," Donna called to the beefy, goateed bartender, "make that two Makers Marks neat, and put it on my tab." The leggy redhead took the stool next to Megan's and simply introduced herself as Donna. "You don't want to drink that rock gut," she said, nodding toward the Jack Daniels bottle behind the bar, "and you certainly don't want to drown it in that sweet piss-water."

Scotty set the two tumblers of smoky-brown liquor in front of the women and exchanged a knowing look with Donna.

"Good bourbon needs to be sipped and savored naked," offered Donna, as she lifted her glass and watched the younger woman blush.

"I just started drinking it today," replied Megan, as she clinked Donna's glass and sipped the warm smooth liquor. Donna couldn't know about Megan's dry spell or the sexual frustration that had been building the past several days. But what she did know, from her vast experience with chatting up similar young ladies in bars, is that there was definitely interest in the brunette's smoldering eyes.

"Hey, you're HER!" Donna said while pointing to the TV behind the bar, which had been running the DeFazio arrest and the morning press conference on a seemingly constant loop.

"Yeah, that's me," confirmed Megan with a blush.

"Oh my gawd, that must have been so exciting," replied Donna, "tell me all about it!"

"There's really not much to tell," Megan replied and took another sip of her drink.

Donna saw a hint of pride in Megan's eyes and just knew the young girl had more to tell than she was letting on. She also got a familiar blip on her internal "gaydar" when she saw the way the young girl returned her gaze. Donna sensed Megan was overwhelmed and conflicted and figured with some sweet talk and enough bourbon, she would not only have an exclusive story, but maybe some company for the evening as well.

The more she stroked Megan's ego, along with her hair and face, the more the young girl opened up about what she knew about the case. The two women talked and laughed comfortably, and went through a few more rounds of drinks, and Donna had just about all the exclusive details she needed to grab the front page headline in the morning's paper.

Megan pulled out her phone to check the time, and said, "I'd better request an Uber, as I don't think I can drive home."

"Nonsense, dear," Donna replied and put her hand over Megan's phone. She had already texted her editor to send over the car service and had received a response that the driver was waiting outside. Donna paid the check, leaving a hefty tip for Scotty, and helped Megan down from her stool.

The two women piled in the back seat of the Town Car and Donna produced a flask from her purse. She handed it to Megan, who took a sip as the car hit a pothole, and a little bourbon dripped down her chin. Donna reached over and swiped up the bourbon off Megan's chin with her thumb, then placed it in the young girl's mouth to lick off. "It's even more fun this way," said Donna, as she took a swig off the flask, then leaned in to kiss Megan with a mouthful of bourbon.

Megan opened her mouth and accepted the liquor, along with Donna's tongue. Donna felt a little bad for taking advantage of the naïve accountant for her story, but with the way she was kissing back, Donna knew she was not taking advantage of her sexually. She felt Megan willingly submit to her advances, and smiled as she felt the young girl's hands rubbing her back and ass while they kissed.

"Good night Ms. Andiamo," said the driver as he stopped the car in front of her townhouse.

"Thanks again for the ride, Ben," Donna replied, as she helped Megan out of the back seat.

Donna guided Megan to the front door with her arm clasped around her waist and steadied the young girl, while Donna fished in her pocketbook for her keys. The two women kissed their way into the front entrance and fell together on the large sectional couch. Donna grabbed a remote off the end table and with a couple of clicks, a fire appeared in the fireplace and the room filled with the soothing sounds of smooth jazz.

She laid Megan back on the couch and started kissing down her neck while undoing the buttons on her white blouse. The moans of approval coming from Megan let Donna know she was on the right track, as she unfastened the front clasp on Megan's bra, and focused her attention on the young girl's breasts.

While licking and sucking her turgid nipples, Donna let her hand travel down inside the waistline of Megan's skirt and massaged her pussy over the lacy fabric of her panties. Any doubts about Megan's consent were assuaged by the copious amount of fluid that coated Donna's fingers when they ventured inside her panties.

"OH GOD YES!" Megan moaned as Donna's thumb found her clit. The older woman lowered the zipper on Megan's skirt, and removed it and her panties in a single swipe, as Megan lifted her butt to assist.

Donna knew that the young girl had had a trying day, and she was feeling guilty about drawing out the details of the story from her. She intended to give her an amazing orgasm to help make up for both, and dove face first in between the young girl's spread legs.

Megan grabbed her knees and pulled her legs back to her chest, opening herself up for Donna's talented tongue. Donna's fingers plunged into her tight canal and her tongue danced circles on her exposed clit. Megan's legs clamped on Donna's head as the young girl exploded in a powerful orgasm.

Donna leaned back and enjoyed the effects of her handiwork on her new friend. The reflection of the flames in the fireplace flickered on Megan's pale skin. Her chest heaved up and down as she attempted to catch her breath in the afterglow of her orgasm.

"Did you enjoy that Megan Corrigan," asked Donna as she lightly caressed the inside of her thigh.

"I sure did Ms. Andiamo," Megan replied, still lost in the fog of a great orgasm and fine Kentucky bourbon.

"Wait? Did Ben say, Ms. Andiamo?" Megan asked, and shot up to a sitting position, the name finally clicking in her brain, "as in Donna Andiamo from the Times Union?"

"One and the same, love," Donna replied with a smile, as Megan attempted to cover her nakedness with a throw pillow.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" Megan repeated, burying her face in the throw pillow, "Don't you have to read people their rights before you ask all those questions?"

"You're thinking of the police, dear," Donna replied, enjoying the bit of avant-garde theater that was playing out in front of her, as the pieces came together in the young girl's mind.

"You can't use any of what I told you," Megan pleaded, "and you can't put my name to any of it, I could wind up dead!" Megan buried her head in the pillow and began to weep uncontrollably.

Donna cradled the weeping girl to her chest and rubbed her back while she continued to sob. She knew the range of emotions that just swept through Megan's brain and body, and let her cry it out, cooing softly in her ear and periodically kissing the top of her head.

When Megan finally calmed down, Donna held her by her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Of course I'll keep your name out of it," she promised, "I like you kid, and I don't want to see anything bad happen to you."

"I'll definitely owe you one if you do," replied Megan, hoping she could take the career reporter at her word.

"Actually dear, you owe me two," Donna corrected, as she unbuttoned her own blouse. "I'll collect one right now, if you don't mind," her naked breasts spilling out of the opened blouse, "and we'll worry about the other later."

*****

The following Monday at the office was nuts. The details in Donna Andiamo's front page story in the Sunday Times Union made it clear that she had a source inside the firm, and everyone was whispering their personal theories about who that might be. Megan was thankful that Donna kept her promise to keep her name out of the story, but she was incredibly nervous that someone at the firm would figure out that the source was really her.

By the time five o'clock rolled around, Megan's brain was fried and she just wanted to get home and get back into her jammies. She walked to her car with a million things still spinning around in her head from the past few weeks and took no notice of the windowless van in the parking spot right next to hers. As she reached for the door handle on her car, she heard the side door to the van slide open. Before she could turn around, a rag was placed over her nose and mouth, and a very muscular arm encircled her waist. She thrashed and kicked and tried to scream, but all she managed to do was lose a shoe. The van door slammed shut as soon as she was inside, and she lost consciousness as it sped away.

The squeal of the van tires caught Elijah's attention as he exited from the back of the building. On the way to his car, he noticed that the driver's side door to Megan's car was ajar. He stopped and looked around the parking lot, to see if she might be talking with someone else, but she was nowhere to be seen. That's when he noticed a familiar looking black pump laying by the back tire of the Prius. Elijah grabbed the shoe and jogged to his car. The dark Chevy Impala left the parking lot in the same direction as the van.

Megan slowly regained consciousness as her bound body bounced around in the back of the seat-less van. Her mouth was taped and her hands were secured behind her back with plastic zip-ties. She tried to free herself but the sharp edges of the plastic cut into her wrists. She blinked several times but her eyes would not adjust to the darkness. That's when she realized her head was covered in some sort of sack, the rough material chafing her cheek.

Her feet were not bound, so she started kicking and flailing her legs around and pounding her heels into the floor of the van. She was hoping to create enough noise to attract attention. If she was going to be killed, or worse, she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Keep it up doll-face, and you'll lose more than a shoe!"

She started taking a mental imprint of the voice, in hopes of being a good witness for the police forensics team. Male, gruff, not well educated, sounded older than her. All the hours she spent watching CSI were going to pay off. But what did he mean by 'lose more than my shoe?'

"Hey, turn around, asshole, you know how Mr. D. feels about that."

Megan ran the second voice through her brain. Another male. Younger. Slight Brooklyn accent. Or is that the Bronx? How Mr. D. feels about what?

At that moment, she remembered she was wearing a skirt. She clamped her legs together tightly and rolled over into the fetal position. Her face burned red with anger and hate as their laughter bounced off the steel walls of the panel van.

The van rolled to a stop and her heart rate doubled as she heard the transmission shift into park. There was no additional light from outside when she heard the back doors of the van open. She had no idea where she was, but from the pungent odor that filled the vehicle, she knew it was not someplace she would ever want to be.