Buy Bust

Author's Note: I debated if this story belongs in Group Sex or Reluctance/Non-Consent and decided on Reluctance/Non-Consent as the work includes instances of mild reluctance with clear power dynamics between the characters.

"Your hand is shaking," Agent Dennis O'Connell said. Aubrey looked down. He was right. A tremor ran down her arm. She set the white Styrofoam coffee cup on the cramped Dodge van's floor and rubbed along her forearm to relieve the tension.

"There's nothing to worry about. We have done this a million times. You're in good hands," Dennis said.

"I'd feel better if I was wearing a wire."

"These guys will pat you down the moment you step through the door." Agent Hugh O'Connell said.

Dennis and Hugh O'Connell weren't related, at least not as far as anyone knew, but Aubrey swore their families crawled out of the same dark valley in Ireland. In their forties, they were big men. Their stomachs poured over their belts and their bullet shaped heads plugged into their shoulders, their necks having long since disappeared. They had matching mustaches and identical buzzcuts a Marine Corps barber gave them back in 66 when they volunteered to go to Nam.

"What if I need backup?"

"You see that window?" Dennis pointed through the van's bug smeared windshield across the parking lot.

"I see it."

In the center of a strip mall made of dusty brown bricks topped with an even browner awning sat a discount electronics store. Tape decks and speakers filled its window. In the upper-right corner a burnt-out neon sign advertised RCA televisions. The window needed a good washing.

"If the deal goes sideways, you grab a chair or something heavy and bust the window. We'll see and come running." Through his cheap charcoal grey suit, he patted the service pistol holstered under his arm. "Trust us. You're in good hands."

"It's just nerves."

"That's why they shouldn't let women do this kind of work," Hugh said as he stared down his nose into the bottom of a coffee cup.

"You gotta cut the cave man shit already. It's the 80s," Dennis said.

"Don't get me wrong. I have no problem with lady cops. They can type up my reports back at the station and hand out parking tickets, but narcotics? Give me a break." Hugh sneered and rolled his eyes.

I can hear you! She wanted to scream. The back of the van was all of a sudden too small.

"She's a cop like us. Give her a chance."

"Whatever." Hugh finished the last sip of his coffee and tossed the cup under the front passenger seat. "She gets one chance," he said and pointed a finger at Dennis, "and then I get to say I told you so."

Dennis waved a dismissive hand at Hugh and turned to Aubrey. "All right," he said, "makeup looks good. The big hoop earrings work. Jeans hug the ass. Let's see what we're working with, unzip."

Aubrey pinched the zipper of her grey hoody sweatshirt and hesitated. This was humiliating. She had graduated the academy, proved herself in patrol, and volunteered to be the first female in narcotics. After everything she had accomplished, she was still a pair of tits. But she wasn't going to stop. Compared to all she had been through, everything she had to overcome, what was a little flesh? She pulled the zipper down.

"No good. You gotta look the part." Dennis' sausage fingers slipped inside the neckline of her scoop halter top and wrenched the fabric down below the tan line on her breasts. "Push them together some. Good. Pull your hair into a tight ponytail." He snapped his fingers twice and said, "Hugh, give her some of your gum. You'll want to smack it like you're from the valley."

As Aubrey pulled her golden-brown hair into a high ponytail, Hugh fished a stick of spearmint Wrigley's from the right pocket of his too small suit coat. He offered the gum and let his eyes linger on her chest.

Dennis jabbed Hugh's ribs. "Pick your jaw off the floor buddy."

"What?" Hugh's head snapped up as if Dennis woke him from a deep sleep. "No, man. I have daughters her age."

Hugh scowled, put on the most wounded face he could manage, and crossed his arms over his chest. He shifted in his seat, but not before Aubrey glimpsed the bulge running alongside the crease in his slacks.

Hugh's erection should have offended her, but instead a small pride welled in her. After years of wearing ill-fitting police blues never designed for a woman's curves, she had forgotten clothes could feel sexy. It was the point of the outfit after all—to make men think with their dicks.

"Can we get on with this?" Aubrey said.

"Slow down. Don't go running off half-cocked. Let's go over the plan step by step," Dennis said.

"The informant and I go inside. I follow her lead. She buys. We report back. Anything goes wrong, I bust the window and you two knights in shining armor come to the rescue."

"What's your name?"

"Candy."

"The CI's name?"

"Tori."

"You got it. Nothing to it. You'll do fine."

"Or you can quit now and go back to knitting," Hugh said.

She wanted to punch Hugh in the throat and watch his beady little eyes bulge out of his fat face as he struggled for air. Instead, she said, "I'm not quitting."

"Of course you're not, sweetheart."

"I said cut it Hugh." Hugh offered up his hands in mock surrender.

Dennis continued, "Look, Aubrey, training is over. This is the real thing. No shame in backing out, but when you step out of this van, there is no looking back. You're Candy and you need to score snow coke. You gotta sell it. A bit of the shakes is okay, you're playing an addict. But you gotta act like you need that high more than anything in your life. There's no such thing as a casual junky."

"I said I'm not quitting."

"Good. If you do this, probation is over and you—"

"That's our CI right there," Hugh interrupted. His chin jutted out towards the parking lot.

Aubrey gathered her purse and slipped out of the back of the van into the harsh mid-morning sun which bounced off the blacktop and forced her hand over her eyes in a protective shield. Dennis closed the van door behind her. "Don't forget to chew the gum," were his parting words.

Around the corner of the strip mall next to a green dumpster overflowing with black trash bags stood Tori, sucking the last drags from a menthol cigarette. Her steel blue eyes darted over the parking lot until they came to rest on Aubrey, who was now Candy.

When Aubrey drew near, Tori folded her arms and blew a column of smoke over her shoulder. She stood five and a half feet tall. Skinny, not boney but lean, with a small chest and long legs; she would have been too skinny if not for her bubble butt. She wore black and nothing but black. Black fishnets under a torn black mini skirt. Black t-shirt exposing her pale midriff and black eyeliner. Black high-heeled boots that ran up her calf only to quit a few inches below her knees. A silver ring in her right nostril and bleach blonde hair done in a pixie cut completed the look.

"You Candy?" she said.

"Yeah. Tori?"

"The one and only." Tori flicked her cigarette, which hurtled end over end through the air until it struck the dumpster and exploded in a shower of cherry sparks.

Aubrey pulled a stack of twenty-dollar bills from her purse and handed them to Tori, who slid the bills inside her shirt, under her bra strap. To Aubrey, Tori's movement were those of an old pro. One who knows the score. She envied Tori's calm.

Aubrey said, "Can I bum a smoke?"

"That was my last."

"Too bad. I could use one."

The California sun baked the pavement, so they walked in the shade of the strip mall's awning. Tori in front and Aubrey trailing behind. A jumbo jet climbed off a nearby runway. Its engine strained to pry the metal tube away from the earth, shaking the concrete below their feet and rattling the store windows. For the moment the plane flew overhead the roar drowned out all other sounds, then the drone of cars racing down the nearby interstate returned.

As Aubrey tottered along the storefronts, she admired Tori's strut. Tori made it look easy in heals twice as tall and half as wide as her own. The academy didn't teach a class on how to pull off walking in hooker boots.

She wasn't prepared for any of this. Dennis and Hugh had thrown her in the deep end of the pool to see if she could swim; no less a pool they knew nothing about. They had never wandered into a dealer's unarmed and dressed like a whore, of that she was certain. Their idea of undercover work started and finished on their asses in the back of a van.

The first storefront they passed was dark and a sign offered a number to call for a leasing office. The next door read '1b' and nothing more; no hint what might lay behind the snapped shut white metal blinds caked in dust. Ahead stood the discount electronics shop.

Tori rapped her knuckles against the steel door. On the other side feet shuffled and an impatient muffled voice told them to wait a minute. Soon a face pressed against the spy hole and then a series of locks slid. The door opened with a cheery jingle of bells hung on the handle, the sound you would expect entering a small-town hardware store.

Inside, a cramped hallway led to a second closed door with a security camera perched above the frame, its red eye blinked as it watched the stout bald man in a sleeveless white tank top run his hands over their bodies. He moved swiftly, never lingering or squeezing, not uttering a word. As he bent down to run his hands over Aubrey's calves, she noticed something pressed against the small of his back: stuffed in his pants was a snub-nosed revolver.

The pat down finished, he pounded the side of his fist against the inner door, producing a hollow bang, bang which echoed on the other side. His hand came to rest on the doorknob. A moment passed, then a buzzer sounded, and he pulled open the inner door with a click of the latch.

That's bad. Real bad. Aubrey stared down a narrow flight of stairs leading to a basement. The O'Connells said nothing about a basement. How could she call for backup without a window to break?

Something deep inside Aubrey pleaded for her to turn and run out of the building before taking another step down into the dank basement. Her mother's voice scolded her for choosing police work over nursing school. Her breath caught at the top of her throat. She would have choked if not for Tori's hand against her back gently nudging her onward.

At the bottom of the stairs a door opened anticipating their arrival. The two women stepped into an office. On one side sat an overstuffed couch. Across the room was a large steel desk with a small monitor perched in the corner. On the screen a grainy, black and white image of the hallway at the top of the stairs flickered. A drop ceiling hung above their heads. Aubrey shivered as a noisy oscillating fan pushed cool air over her exposed arms and shoulders.

Once inside, Tori threw her arms around the man sitting behind the desk. "Antonio baby," she said and kissed his cheek. Antonio looked young, thirty at most. Clean-shaven and strong. Too strong to overpower if the deal went south. No doubt he also kept a piece in his pants.

Antonio rose from the chair and took a step back while holding Tori in his arms. His eyes travelled her thin frame from black boots to bleach blond pixie cut, and said, "Weren't you a brunette last week?"

"You like it?"

Antonio's attention turned to Aubrey, who never left the doorway, as if she waited for an invitation to come inside. He asked Tori, "Who's your friend?"

"Just my new puppy to play with."

Aubrey's cheeks flushed. Tori's words sent a tingle over her scalp, they were lurid and domineering all at once.

"I don't like new people. I thought you knew better than to bring strangers around?"

"She's cool. You remember Oscar from the Sea Pearl?"

"Short dude with the hairlip?"

"No. Oscar with the Virgin Mary tattooed on his neck. This is his brother's girl."

"Does Oscar's brother's girl have a name?"

"Candy," Aubrey said with a smile.

Antonio's eyebrows narrowed as he fixed Aubrey with a stare that dissected her body. This wasn't Hugh's lecherous ogling of her breasts. Antonio was a wolf stalking its next meal.

Tori broke Antonio's concentration with the roll of twenty-dollar bills, which she pushed into his chest. He took the bills and looked at them for a moment, as if he didn't know what they were. Then he shuffled the paper into a neat stack before thumbing through to count. Aubrey thought the bills looked too crisp, too clean, as if printed yesterday at the U.S. Mint. He knows something is up.

"You're forty short."

"That's what I paid last week."

"Price went up."

"Don't do this to me, baby. That's all we have."

"Not my problem. Get the fuck out and come back when you have it."

Tori turned to Aubrey and shrugged in defeat, her pouting lips mouthed 'sorry'. Aubrey wished she had thought to stuff extra twenties in her bra.

"Go on. Get out," Antonio said as he opened the door leading to the stairs.

Tori rose from the couch and smoothed her skirt. Preparing to follow her, Aubrey's heart fell like an anchor and lodged in the pit of her stomach. She would go back to the van empty-handed. Back to Hugh's sneers. Back to hear him gloat how he knew all along she didn't have what it took to be police.

Screw that. Dennis's words came to mind: 'You have to sell it'. A junkie wouldn't walk away with a shrug and a too bad, maybe next time. A junkie would beg. A junkie would do anything.

"Wait," Aubrey said. Her head swimming. Her voice on the verge of cracking.

"I don't have time. You either have cash or you don't."

Aubrey sat up straight and pushed her pillowy breasts together and leaned toward Antonio. "Is there another way I can pay you?" She brought her index finger to her cherry red lips and swirled it inside her mouth while locking eyes with Antonio. A knowing smile spread over his face.

"Slow down before you say something you can't take back."

Aubrey ran her hand down the side of her neck and along her collar bone, down until her fingers reached inside her halter top. She pulled the cotton fabric over her chest to expose a hint of the puffy dark skin around her nipple.

Antonio let the door go. It swung closed under its weight. He reached for the latch and, with a heavy click, flipped it locked.

Tori walked to Antonio and shot Aubrey a look that could kill. Tori's hand touched his chest and then made its way down his front until it came to rest on his cock.

"I bet I can make you feel good baby," Tori said. "Make you feel like a man."

She didn't have to do that. She was a CI. Whether they made the buy or not she would be paid. She showed up, kept her end of the bargain. Sticking her neck out for Aubrey wasn't part of the job.

Antonio looked at Tori and then at Aubrey's chest, and back to Tori.

"Sit." Antonio motioned for them to go to the couch with his sinewy arm covered in faded tattoos.

He walked behind the dented steel desk. From the upper right drawer he pulled a bag of white crystals and held it in front of his face before letting the bag drop in the middle of the desk.

"One for one."

He pulled a second bag from the drawer and let it fall with similar drama. It was enough weight to send him away for a long time.

"Two for two."

As Tori and Aubrey walked around the desk Antonio unbuckled his black denim jeans and freed himself from the confines of white boxer briefs, which joined the pants in a pile around his ankles.

Antonio stepped out of his pants and underwear and spread his feet a little wider than hip distance apart. The muscles on either side of his groin formed a line from the crest of his hip down to his soft cock, which he coaxed with his right hand. Average length, but thicker than most.

Tori fell to the grey linoleum tiled floor and positioned herself on her knees in front of Antonio. Her left hand braced against his smooth thigh which flexed at her touch, while her right pushed his white t-shirt up his abdomen, exposing a thin trail of dark hair.

"Get that hard for me, baby," Antonio instructed Tori.

The back of Tori's head blocked Aubrey's view, so she slid between them and sat on the desk. Aubrey told herself this was all part of the act. She couldn't sit off to the side, indifferent and disinterested. That would raise suspicion. She had to commit. So she watched. Watched and smacked the chewing gum like Dennis told her.

She enjoyed the view of the pixie cut blonde licking the tip of Antonio's still limp cock, which jumped as she flicked her pink tongue over it. For the first time Aubrey noticed the silver stud running through Tori's tongue. Both ends were capped with shiny metallic balls, which she rolled over Antonio's length.

"You like it daddy?" Tori purred. Her left hand pushed the foreskin back and wrapped itself around the base of his growing shaft. Antonio moaned. His eyes closed and his head rolled back. He steadied himself by placing a hand on Tori's thigh. "Don't stop," was all Antonio managed to say.

What had been average now stood long and proud. It was big; bigger than anything Aubrey had seen before. Tori's wide-open jaw fit the first few inches, barely.

"Mmmhhh, mhhhh," she smacked while her head bobbed.

Tori pushed forward and a third of his length disappeared down her throat. Her pale white face flushed red. Those steel blue eyes watered and a tear trickled down her cheek, smudging black eyeliner as it fell.

"Suck that dick." Antonio pressed against the back of her throat.

Fighting the urge to wretch, she pulled away to gasp a breath. Ropes of spit coated her chin.

Antonio took his cock in his hand. "Stick that tongue out." Tori obeyed. "Farther. That's it." He tapped his cock with a wet smack against the pink tongue and then ran himself along the silver stud.

Without realizing she was doing it, Aubrey ground her ass against the desktop. Then the fan passed cool air over her as it had since she first entered the room, except this time her nipples stiffened and chafed against the lace fabric of her bra. A burning sensation grew until she found herself squeezing her chest to relieve the ache.

Antonio had been watching. With Tori busy lapping her tongue over his balls, his hand slipped under Aubrey's top and pulled her shirt up. He then forced her still latched bra over her right breast, which burst from its restraint into his callused hands. He grabbed her nipple and squeezed, pulling and stretching hard.

She scooted closer to him; close enough to smell the sharp scent of aftershave. She scooted closer again; close enough he sucked her nipple into his mouth and nibbled. His bite was gentler than his touch. Gentle and warm.

She wrapped an arm around his neck and held his mouth to her bosom, where he greedily sucked. Across her chest a thousand tiny pins and needles danced, and she whimpered and melted and fell back onto the desk, pulling his body on top of hers.

Her shirt and bra bunched between her armpits and chest, and stacks of papers pressed into her back. She was helpless as his muscular body pinned her. His mouth and hands roamed. All she could do was stare up at the drop ceiling and its brown water stains while trying to keep a clear head as his hand grazed her stomach, journeying ever downward.

His fingers passed inside the waistband of her pants and then her panties. Soon they ran through her coarse hair and passed over her mound, where the denim hugged to her sex. He pushed and wiggled to make room for his hand. One finger glided inside and a second soon followed, probing in and out with a frictionless ease.

"Ooh, wow. That's wet," he said.

She was shocked at her wetness. Her body betrayed her. Yes, she set this in motion. She wanted to make the squad. That's why she did it. In her head she was going to play the part, do what had to be done and get out as fast as possible. But she never imagined enjoying Antonio's fingers playing inside her. She wanted those rough hands to grab her curves. Wanted to feel his tongue buried between her thighs.