Miss Masters Ch. 02: Cabin Fever

Author's Note: If you hate spoilers of any kind please skip this note.

This chapter contains some pretty tame male on male bisexual exploration, but if this is a turn-off for you, probably best to skip this story.

Story edited, to fix odd missing word and spelling and also tweaked in response to some feedback.

Thanks everyone for reading, and as always, any feedback is welcome.

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Miss Masters, Ch.2: Cabin Fever

"Are either of you going to tell me where we are going?" asked Miss Masters from the back seat of a non-descript black sedan.

"Like I said before, that's no concern of yours. We'll be there when we get there." Replied the man in his early forties, who was sitting in the front passenger seat.

The car journey seemed to have gone on for hours. The steady sound of the water spray from the tyres, was only interrupted by the repetitive rhythm of the windscreen wipers. Now that the sun had set and the rain was lashing down, there wasn't even a view to enjoy. Just the edges of the road, illuminated by the headlights.

She sighed in the back seat, since they had taken her into custody at the Drake Hotel, they had barely spoken to her. She had expected to be taken somewhere official -- not this endless interminable driving.

Her escort were a suitably boring pair. Both men were tall, wore almost identical drab raincoats, with cheap suits and hats to match. They looked like just what they were, bureau agents.

"Yes, but where is that." She said responding to his earlier non-answer.

Neither man responded. But the driver, a younger man in his early twenties, handsome with blond-hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders, looked over at his older colleague for guidance. Only to be dismissed with a curt shake of the head.

"This little jaunt would be a lot more pleasant if we could talk." She said, becoming a little tired of the situation. "You bundle me into this car, you don't tell me where I'm going or let me contact my lawyer -- the least you could do is speak to me."

The young driver looked over again, his face quizzical. "What harm would it do?" He asked.

"Just do as your told and drive." Replied the older man, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

* * *

Earlier that day, the older man, Senior Special Agent Jack Blake had been sifting through paperwork at his desk. He was forty-six years old and had the salt and pepper hair to prove it. He was exactly what everyone thought a Bureau Agent looked like; he was a little over six-foot-tall, two hundred and fifteen pounds (with a little extra around the waist these days). But he was still in good shape, he was more than capable of running down a suspect half his age and then beating a confession out of him after he caught him.

Paperwork bored the hell out of him. So, when he was called into the assistant director's office, he popped up from his desk with a sense of relief.

"Close the door" Said the balding man behind the desk, as he motioned to Blake to take a seat. "I've got a funny one for you Jack. I want you to get down to the Drake Hotel in Chicago and pick up a suspect."

The assistant director passed over an almost empty file.

A little disappointed it wasn't something more interesting Blake suppressed a sigh. He opened the file, it was just a cover sheet with a name, some aliases, a date of birth and a photograph clipped to the sheet.

"Is this it? What is she a civilian?" He asked, commenting on the almost non-existent information.

"If only. She appeared, seemingly from nowhere, about eighteen months ago. She took over a whorehouse in downtown Chicago, and then quickly started acquiring control of more and more of the cathouses in the city. Pretty soon, she moved on to the numbers, buying up significant gambling debts, taking over established games, then she started opening up her own. It wasn't long until she was muscling in on protection and the smuggling rackets down on the docks."

"In just a year and a half. The lady works fast." Said Blake looking at the slender woman in the photograph, his eyebrows raised.

"She does, we hadn't even identified her as the ringleader until around six months ago. What little we have is pulled from informants and dodgy rumours. But we estimate she now has a stake in around a third of the organized crime in the city."

Blake whistled. "That much."

"That's why I've had her arrested." Said the assistant director.

The senior special agent looked down at the near empty file. "Do we have something?"

"Well that's where it gets sticky. She's guilty as hell, we just can't prove anything."

"Sir." Blake furrowed his eyebrows.

"I know, I know. But trust me I know what I'm doing. Just pick her up from the local cops. Take her to this address and sit on her for a few days." He said, tossing over an envelope and some keys. "Take Special Agent Taylor with you."

"Dutch? He's green as hell." Said Blake his shoulder's sagging.

"I know but he's gotta learn some time."

"Fair enough sir. I'll head straight home, pack a few things, and let my wife know I'm going to be away for a few days."

The assistant director shook his head. "Forget that, this is more important. Call your wife on the phone, then get Taylor and go pick up the prisoner."

"Yes sir." Sighed Blake, not looking forward to his impending phone call.

He stood up and made his way out of the assistant director's office.

"Hey Blake, one more thing."

"Yes sir." He said, looking back over his shoulder, the open door in his hand.

"Watch this bitch, she's slippery."

"Understood." Said Blake closing the door.

For a moment, the assistant director stared pensively at the door. Once he was confident that Blake wasn't coming back, he picked up his phone and fumbled in his top pocket for a small scrap of paper. Squinting his eyes, he slowly read out the number for the operator.

He waited for the line to click through. "Hello is that you?"

There was no answer, just the sound of a long exhale down the line.

The assistant director spoke, keeping his voice low. "I've done what you asked, she's been arrested, and my men are taking her to a safehouse. Everything is just liked you asked. You said you'd handle it from here?"

Again, no voice came from the other end of the line. Eager to fill the threatening silence, the assistant director read out the address. Once he had finished, the line went dead. Hesitantly, he looked at his phone and gently put it back down on the receiver.

* * *

Finally, the car turned off the road. The steady smooth running of the tarmac gave way to the rumble of a dirt track. The headlights illuminating the trees on either side. Miss Masters shifted in the back seat, sitting up and paying attention to the suddenly changing environment. She glanced at her watch and noted how long it had taken to get to wherever they were.

"Up here on the left Dutch."

The car slowly made its way down an even narrower route, the branches of overgrown bushes rattled against the sides of the car, until the quiet little path opened out into a clearing. The head lights revealing tall trees surrounding a large log cabin.

"Right everybody out." Said the older man, stepping out of the car. He pulled the lapels of his raincoat together to keep out the rain.

Searching for the key in his pocket he unlocked the door and pushed it open for the others to go inside. After striking a match and lighting an oil lamp, he went back out to the car to turn off the headlights. Instinctively, he looked on the roof of the car for bags and then remembered that there was nothing to unpack. Just as his boss had told him, Senior Special Agent Jack Blake had gathered up his partner and gone straight to the Hotel to pick up the prisoner.

When he got back inside, his partner Dutch had already started lighting the fire, leaving Miss Masters standing behind him as he did.

"What are you, an idiot?" Snapped Blake.

"Sir? I just thought I would get the fire going." He said his voice unsure.

"Not the fire. Never turn your back on a prisoner."

The kneeling man looked up at the slender Miss Masters. She was tall for a woman, but she certainly didn't represent any physical threat to him.

"I don't think she's going to overpower me Blake. Besides she's in cuffs."

"I don't care if she's in a straitjacket, never turn your back on a prisoner."

"OK, I hear you." He said waving his hand dismissively.

Special Agent Taylor began grumbling silently to himself as he poked at the slowly awakening flames.

Once they had lit some more lamps and candles, Blake explored the cabin. It had a main room with a kitchen and a fireplace, and two doors on either side. These doors led to rather impressive bedrooms for a log cabin, with their own bathrooms. It had windows that opened but nothing big enough to climb through, not even their lithesome prisoner.

The senior agent nodded in approval; he liked the layout. Large communal room, one room for the detainee, one room for the guys guarding them - nice setup for a safehouse. He wondered if the Bureau had built it or bought it.

"Right. You lady will sleep in that bedroom and we will sleep in that bedroom."

"Together?" She asked, getting rather tired of Senior Special Agent Blake

Three hours in a car with little room for her long legs had left her feeling a little stiff.

"Very cute. No, one of us will be on guard out here at all times, so don't get any stupid ideas about running off."

"I don't even know where I am." She said, standing, looking back and forth at both men.

"Well off you go lady. It's bedtime." Said Blake ushering her away.

She lifted her wrists, reminding him about her rather fetching steel bracelets.

"Take her cuffs off. She's not going anywhere -- the door is locked, and I have the key."

Taylor crossed the floor and carefully unlocked the steel restraints. When his back was turned to his superior officer, Dutch silently mouthed an apology to the strange prisoner. She faintly nodded in reply, the merest smile on her beautiful face.

"Good night gentlemen." She said curtly, before retiring to her room and letting the door slam behind her.

The younger man turned; his head cocked to one side. After a long pause he spoke. "Do you need to be an asshole?"

Blake ignored the insult.

"She's just scared, you know. And I can't blame her, what the hell are we doing. No arrest order, no legal counsel, no process -- what's going on?"

"Assistant director wants it like this, says he knows what he's doing."

"I'm glad he does." Said Taylor shaking his head.

"Never mind all that right now. Turning your back to a prisoner?" Said Blake shaking his head. "For that kind of stupid, you're on first watch."

"Yeah, yeah." He said, confident that whatever had happened he was going to be taking first watch.

"It's a little before nine o'clock now, come wake me at three" said Blake, taking off his raincoat.

"Sure sir."

The older man walked to the bedroom, before turning back to speak to his young partner. "Oh, and Dutch." He waited as his partner turned to face him. "Don't talk to the prisoner. Okay?"

"Okay." Nodded Taylor.

The door clunked as it pulled shut.

* * *

Inside Miss Masters bedroom, the lady in question had her ear pressed tight to the door. She smiled as she heard the older man retire to bed, looking at her watch again.

"Six hours." She thought.

She came away from the door and made her way to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror she surveyed herself. It had been a long day. The long car journey and the earlier events in the Drake, had left her feeling a little tired and stiff, but she still looked stunning.

Miss Masters looked down at the taps on the basin and saw one marked hot. Expecting nothing but ice-cold water, she turned the tap. After a few moments, to her amazement, the water slowly started to heat up. It wasn't long until steam began fogging the mirror in front of her.

"Something to do with the fire?" She thought. Before deciding not to think about it too much. Delighted, she drew herself a bath.

Whilst the water was running, she removed her silk suit and shirt, folding them neatly and placing them on the dresser. Before moving on to her long black stockings. Being careful not to snag them, she eased them down her firm tanned thighs and then over her toned calves and feet. Before laying them atop her suit. Briefly, she cursed forgetting to pick up her little stocking pistol, it would have come in very handy right now.

None of this made sense to her, she'd been arrested before -- admittedly, in a former life -- but it had never been like this. No, something was wrong with the whole thing.

A cloud of steam began to drift into the bedroom, and she went to check on the bath. Dipping her fingertips in the near scalding water, she decided it was perfect. Then she laid two pristine white towels beside the bath and slipped beneath the silken surface of the restoratively hot water.

The bath was deep, and the water covered her shoulders, the luxuriant heat, radiated through her, reviving tired limbs. She sighed with relaxation. And then, as the wheels of her mind began to turn, a wicked one-sided smile spread across her face.

* * *

Special Agent Dutch Taylor was bored. Mind-numbingly, out of his mind bored.

It was eleven o'clock, and he'd been sat on the couch for two hours. There wasn't even a decent book in the place. He stood up and poked at the fire, just for something to do, just as he had ten minutes ago, and the ten minutes before that.

Dutch was letting out yet another long sigh when he heard a quiet little noise, a squeak almost. He stopped and cocked his head to listen. There it was again; he followed the sound to the prisoner's bedroom door. Gingerly he pressed his ear to the door.

He could hear a feint sobbing. Taylor dropped his head, he felt terrible for the girl. Both he and Blake had treated her abysmally.

"Maybe I should go in?" He thought. But Blake's words came to mind, so he went and sat down again.

The problem was, now that he had heard the crying -- it was all he could hear. Five minutes was all he could stand before he gently tapped on the door and after a brief pause, Miss Masters hesitantly invited him in.

When he went inside, she was sitting up in the bed, with the flimsy sheet pulled up over her chest, barely protecting her modesty.

"Are you okay Miss?" Asked Taylor, genuinely concerned.

She whimpered gently. "I just don't understand what's happening."

"You must have some idea. When we picked you up, the cops were all buzzing around, agitated about something. I wanted to find out what, but Blake said we had to go."

She had to suppress a smile, remembering exactly why all the cops at the hotel were so agitated. Her pussy tingled slightly as she recalled the pathetic calls of commander Johnson as she swept out of the hotel suite and down the corridor.

"They seem to have me mixed up with someone else, but I've never done anything illegal, really I haven't." Her voice so plaintiff, so convincing.

"Well don't worry then. If you're innocent, you'll be just fine." Said Dutch, standing at the foot of her bed.

"But no-one seems to believe me. Take your boss, he won't even listen to me."

"That's just him, he doesn't trust anyone."

"What if everyone is like that." She said dropping her head, staring down at the bed sheet.

Taylor suddenly felt unbelievably protective towards her. Looking over his shoulder first, he sat down on the bed. He warmly opened his arms and offered her a hug, trying to reassure her. Willingly she leaned into him.

"Well I'm not like that, so not everyone will be." He said.

"You believe me?" she said leaning back, looking directly into the young agents' eyes.

The lamplight glittered in her dark brown eyes as she gazed doe-eyed at the young handsome bureau man.

"God, she's beautiful" He thought.

"You'll keep me safe?" She asked, her voice so innocent.

"Of course, I will." He said, gently brushing some strands of hair away from her lovely face.

She leaned in and gently kissed him. "Thank you, Special Agent Taylor."

He blushed slightly, surprised at her kiss.

"When the old man isn't around you can call me Dutch."

"And you can call me Lily." She said, obviously nervous, before kissing him again.

There was a long pause as he stared into her eyes, almost mesmerised by her beauty. Before he could ask himself whether it was a good idea, he kissed her. His hand came up, gently touching the side of her face as their lips pressed softly together. Short gentle kisses slowly became longer more passionate ones. His hands slid down her back, her naked skin like luxuriant velvet against the roughness of his hands.

She felt wonderful, soft, fragile. Everything about her was so perfectly ... feminine. Never in his life had Taylor ever felt more masculine, more powerful, more protective, than when he held this exquisitely beautiful and delicate flower in his arms.

He could feel himself getting carried away and suddenly broke the kiss.

"Is everything alright?" She asked. She looked wounded.

"No, it's just-" He stopped, struggling for words. "Lily, I would be taking advantage of you. You know, and with my job and everything. I really should go."

"I'm not pretty enough, Am I?"

"Don't' be crazy, you've got to be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Miss Masters smiled to herself, she knew she had him exactly where she wanted him, and now it was time to turn the screw.

"Then please, don't go. I don't want to be alone tonight" She said, releasing the bed sheet from her grip.

She leant back languidly on the bed, laying her naked perfection before him. She raised an arm above her head, cradling her head in the crook of her elbow. The pose accentuated her magnificent breasts and toned stomach. She was a vision.

He sat motionless on the bed, drinking in her loveliness. He couldn't speak or move a muscle until she broke the silence.

"Kiss me Dutch." She said biting her bottom lip. "Please."

The combination of her beauty and sweet innocence was irresistible to him. The young man leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, and as he did, she wrapped her hands around him, pulling him closer into their kiss. With every passing second his passion grew.

His hand slid over her delicious, tanned body, stroking his strong hands softly over her firm full breasts. Sensually pressing his palms firmly against them, delighting as he felt her nipple pressing proudly against his hand.

"Oh Dutch, that feels so good." She whispered in his ear between long passionate kisses.

Eagerly the excited agent, began undoing his shirt, helped by the slightly fumbling fingers of the innocent Miss Masters. Now shirtless, he saw her admiring his tight ripped torso. Lily's painted fingernails traced along the edges of his muscled chest and his ego swelled with pride. He looked down at her, his eyes betraying his hunger.

"You'll need to be gentle with me Dutch." She said feigning inexperience.

"I will, I promise."

The thought that this woman, with the body of a goddess, was about to be sexually awakened by him, made his cock throb with hunger. He was twenty-four and had had his share of lovers, he was sure he was about to show the wholesome Miss Masters the time of her life.

Taylor slid his hand down under the sheets until he felt the soft little hairs over her pussy. Briefly pausing to make sure he wasn't going too fast for her; he began to explore her soft moist lips with his fingers.

"Oh, Dutch." She whispered, breathily. Nodding as he slowly increased the pressure of his touch.

He searched for the little bud of flesh at the top of her pussy and started gently rolling his fingertip over it. He was delighted to see Lily close her eyes and surrender to his touch; her thighs pressing tight together. He could see how much she was enjoying it. He slid his fingers down between her lips, they weren't moist anymore, they were wet. Making sure to get her wetness all over his fingers he went back to circling over her swollen bud, but now he pressed harder.