Journal of an Agent Ch. 25

Leaning into me tightly, she shuddered a bit, an orgasm, as she exhaled and turned herself over into my arms.

"I also cum so deliciously when I dance like that. But I want more - give me all you've got Dean," Alyson whispered into my ear. Placing my hands around her tight bottom, kneading the cheeks in my hands, I began to move her up and down my cock, her body moving in rhythm to my pace as she propped herself up by herself, letting inch by inch of my meat slide in and out of her. She gasped as we slowly made love, feeling and savoring every inch of me. I too was incredibly enchanted by this erotic situation, losing myself in the tightness of her twat. Alyson was an expert lover, knowing exactly what to do and how to get it done to make both of us reach the highest levels of pleasure possible.

We continued our pace like that for a few minutes, but it grew increasingly uncomfortable, so I stood up from the chair. Alyson wrapped her muscular and fit legs around my waist, scissoring my cock inside of her as we moved from the chair to the floor. I laid her down on her back gently and lifted her legs up, resting her knees on my shoulders. This allowed me greater access to her pussy, and I drilled into her faster now, feeling myself bottoming out inside of her with every deep thrust I gave.

Alyson was no longer the quiet and sensual girl she had been when we started - now she seemed to have transformed into a sex starved animal, urging me on as I sawed in and out of her pussy.

"Oh yeah! God! Don't stop! Ooooo, fuck me harder Dean! Fuck my pussy!" she wailed as I continued to fuck her. I felt her tremble beneath me again as she climaxed around me, her cunt now moist and sopping wet from our love making. I leaned my mouth down to hers and kissed her gently on the lips. But Alyson wanted nothing gentle now - she forced her tongue into my mouth, the tiny pinkness of it like a writhing snake as we explored each other's mouths. I moved my hand up to her breasts and fondled them in my hand, enjoying the small but incredibly soft feel of them. Pushing her left breast up, Alyson broke the kiss and licked her nipple with a flick of her tongue, her green eyes afire as she gave herself over to the sex.

Propping her up some, I now laid down on my back and let Alyson's strong legs do the work as she lowered herself on and off of me, letting my cock move around inside of her as she would grind it around. I felt the shaft of my prick brush against her clit many times and I knew from the sheer heat given off between her legs that she was on fire with the desire of the moment.

Alyson lifted herself off of me completely now, but just for a moment as she spun around backwards and rode me - cowgirl style. Her legs were bent at the knees across my waist as she moved like a woman possessed, bucking and grinding in the air around me, her sweaty red hair flying around her face. I gripped onto her ass tightly, running a finger up her crack and brushing it lightly against her pert asshole. Alyson gasped as the tip of my finger moved down between her legs and I rubbed against her mound, gently massaging it. This caused her to only bounce on me faster and I was forced to remove my hand and place it on her hips just to keep her from bouncing off.

The added speed now brought me closer and closer to orgasm, and with just a few more thrusts inside of Alyson, I felt my cum erupt from my cock, coating her inner pussy wall with hot and sticky semen. Alyson's body seemed to feel my shots hit inside of her and this caused her legs to clamp shut tightly around me, milking my prick and holding me in as I pumped load after load inside of her. Slowly Alyson's bouncing stopped and her body came to a bent rest as she leaned back against me, her back pressing against my chest.

Fully spent, my prick shrunk a little and slid out from inside her, the shaft from head to base coated in our sticky love juices. I held Alyson in my arms for a while as we both caught our breath and relaxed, both completely content from not only the sex but the great food and the warming buzz of the alcohol.

As I went to leave an hour or so later, Alyson walked me to the door, still naked. Opening the front door, I saw her shiver a little as the crisp February air danced around her naked body, causing her nipples (which were already red from my tongue's work) to harden in the night.

"That was great Dean. I haven't had such a good lay like that in a long time," Alyson said, propping herself up in the doorway as I stood to leave. "And keep in mind what I said about the sexy roles, ok?"

"Alyson, I will tell you one thing that most people never hear me admit: I was wrong. You are more sexy than half the women on this planet. That thing you do with your legs...wow, it's amazing. Don't worry, once I get in there with the studio heads, you'll be in a shoo-in for whatever role you want to," I said.

Alyson giggled a little as she hugged me tightly, planting a soft kiss on my lips. She had returned now to the same persona that most of America was familiar with, the innocent little girl that everyone seemed to know someone who was just like. But what came out of her mouth was anything but innocent. "Thank you. And if they have a problem with it, tell them I'll suck there cock to prove it. I'd love to be there in the boardroom when you offer up that option," she said with a gentle whisper, a smile across her face as she laughed lightly.

I too laughed and returned the kiss, heading out the door. I heard her close it softly behind me, the heavy metallic click of the bolt. Getting into my car, I headed back out onto the freeway and towards home - a place I hadn't been in over 48 hours. I felt more cautious now, checking the mirrors more frequently to see if anyone had followed me. But it turned out to be my imagination.

However, I was startled back to reality when my phone rang, giving me a rushing sense of deja vu. I checked the number and it was one that I didn't recognize. My heart beating in my chest loudly now, I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Simonds? This is Frank McAllister. I've got some information for you. I have the list of guys down to three possibilities but I need just a few more details from you to give you a solid name. You got a minute?" Frank said. It was almost a relief to hear his voice and know that he had actually found something that was useful.

"Ok, ask away," I replied.

"First off, was the guy you saw a bit chunky or was he more built in the shoulders?" Frank asked. I thought hard, trying to recall.

"Well, it was dark. But I'm pretty sure he was more toned in the upper body, so the second choice," I said.

"Good. Now, next question. When you saw him get away, did he have any sort of limp to him, something like say a leg he was dragging?" McAllister asked.

"No. Nothing like that. No, this guy was fast, real fast," I said as I changed lanes on the interstate. Even at 11 at night, traffic was still rather hairy.

"Ok, last question. When the man spoke, did you notice any kind of discernable accent? You say you grew up in New York so you know what Italians and Russians and all those sound like. Did he sound at all like one of those guys to you?" Frank said.

This was a real struggle to remember. There had been very few words said between us, but I was trying to remember if anything had sounded different. It suddenly came back to me - when he said "Hope you can swim", or something like that, the "you" came out as "youse". Bingo! Brooklyn, Italian, East coast accent.

"Yes! Yes he did! I just remembered, he had an Italian accent. Not real heavy, but just enough to be discernable. Does that help?" I asked excitedly.

"It does. Mr. Simonds, the man you are looking for is named Warren Aiello. He's from your native city of New York and he's a local goon here in town for some of the movie studios, the strip joints, basically anyone who will hire him for muscle. He's done a few years for assault and battery but nothing too serious. Aiello has connections, so I think he beats the wrap most of the time. What I can't figure out though is why he was out there taking pictures of you," McAllister said gruffly, as if this sort of information gathering was boring and routine to him.

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out as well," I replied. "Listen, do you have an address or somewhere I can go to find this fucker?"

"I do, but I wouldn't recommend that. Aiello is a tough character and I know from the kind of gossip and dirt that I hear that he doesn't hesitate to take people out. They say he has a pretty high tolerance for pain and has no remorse for his victims. You suddenly appearing alive again to him wouldn't be a good play in my book," McAllister said. He sounded a little afraid of this Aiello character himself, but that didn't bother me. I wanted to get to the bottom of this and more specifically, to get revenge.

"I'll take that under consideration. Tell me where he's at and I'll double whatever I'm paying you now," I said to him.

"You haven't paid me one God-damned nickel yet. That's another reason I called. So until you pay me," McAllister said, sliding into his hardball mode.

"Look, this isn't a bargaining table. You call my office in the morning, ask for Damon. He will pay you handsomely, I'm sure of it. Now just tell me this guy's address and we can consider this transaction complete, at least on my end,"

McAllister sighed and then read off a card: "3516 Ocean Valley Drive. It's in Los Angeles, near South Central. But unless you are packing, I wouldn't recommend going down there. There are far worse characters out than Aiello this time of night,"

"Again, I'll take that into consideration," I said as I committed the address to memory. I knew roughly where that was and in fact was on the exact right road to getting there. "Thank you for your help, I will speak to you in the morning," I said, hanging up the phone before he could get another word in.

I drove like a bat out of hell, dodging and weaving in and out of traffic. Even if there had been anyone following me, they surely wouldn't have been able to keep up. Within a few minutes I was rolling onto the North end of Ocean Valley, driving just slow enough to read the addresses but not too slow to risk getting car jacked. Reaching into the glove compartment, I pulled out my 9mm. I had Damon bring it from my house when I was still in the hospital, not wanting to take any risks if the people who wanted me dead found out I wasn't.

I drove through a decrepit and blinking yellow light, swinging from one broken wire over the street. The neighborhood was like a ghost town, only a few people out walking around on the streets and I knew McAllister was right: they weren't the kind you wanted to mess with. A few of them watched me drive past, staring at my car and trying to gauge if it was worth their trouble. Up ahead at an intersection I spotted the building that I was looking for: 3516.

It was an abandoned and old factory or warehouse like structure, it's massive roof jutting out a good story or two above the nearest building. There was a parking lot for a closed down gas station just across the street. I pulled into it and switched off my lights. I slowly got out of the car, not really expecting it to be there when I got back (and yet I locked it anyways).

Heading towards the building, I paused in front of it. It was dark and desolate looking except for one light on in the very top window, the faint yellow pale of it disappearing into the bleakness of the night. I stood in front of the doorway inside: it was an old office complex, probably abandoned in the '50s. But the front door had been torn off and I could make out a flight of rickety looking stairs just inside the entryway.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter 26: Reese Witherspoon