True Corruption Pt. 01

Sam took his finger and started to press it to her puckered ring. He heard her moan "Nuh uh" and looked up at her. She was looking down, shaking her head side to side at him in polite refusal.

"Baby I know you'll love it, it's better than just around the rim," Sam said, still working his other fingers in and out of her wetness.

"No, it's dirty," Viv said. "I don't want you to. dPlease don't ruin a nice thing."

"Okay, baby," Sam said, moving his tongue back to her clit. "You got it."

Viv smiled and laid back, her head hitting the pillow as her eyes rolled up into her head and she moaned loudly. Sam licked and fingered her to two more quick orgasms; her legs shook so violently on the second one Sam had to hold her down to keep her from kicking him in the face. When she finally calmed down, he kissed her along her thighs gently, and then planted one more sloppy kiss on her pussy lips. She gave a jolt, and he got up off the bed and padded over to the bathroom, large cock standing out straight from his body, wagging back and forth and he walked.

He washed his face - Viv didn't like kissing him with her juices all over his mouth and in his beard - dried it on a fluffy towel and then walked back to the bedroom, cock still at 12 o'clock. He stepped inside and saw that Viv had turned off the bedside light; in the dim light of the streetlamps, he could see she was under the covers.

He knew better than to ask for a reciprocal blowjob; it wasn't really Viv's thing, and she always complained that her jaw hurt afterwards. It had to be a truly special occasion for her to put him in her mouth, and usually he got about three minutes to either cum or move on to sex.

He was ready to skip that step and move to fucking his beautiful fiancée, so he moved to his side of the bed, slid under the covers and nuzzled his face into her neck, spooning her.

"Baby that was wonderful," she said dreamily, "Almost as good as our sixth date."

"Not as good?" he teased. "I was worried you were going to float away by the third orgasm."

"Nothing will be as good as the first time you did that to me," she said. "It was so special."

"I was scared shitless, your parents were right down the hall," Sam said.

"It was just amazing, I'll never forget how hard you made me cum," she said.

"I still can't believe they didn't hear you moaning," he said. "He snuggled her and kissed her along the side of her neck, then scooted down so the tip of his cock was at the entrance to her still soaked slit.

"Mmmm, don't take too long, okay baby?" she said distantly, "I have an early spin class before two big client meetings tomorrow."

"Okay sweetheart," Sam said, and he pushed himself into her. Viv moaned slightly but lay still.

"And don't finish on me, okay? I don't want to have to clean up."

"Sure thing," Sam said.

Sam pumped in and out of her from behind while she lay in bed. He reached around and groped her chest while he fucked her, and she ground her hips back into him. She occasionally let out a gasp or little moan, but didn't say anything else. True to his word, when he was ready he rolled over onto his back and finished all over his own chest. He got up, careful not to let his cum drip on Viv's carpet, and headed back to the bathroom.

He turned back to look at her in the semi-dark of the city light coming in around the blinds; she was asleep before he left the bedroom. He wiped himself off, then he cleaned up the kitchen and dining room, tossing out the meal that had been sitting out for hours. Then he showered and went to bed.

***

Tuesday

Sam was up reading his paper and drinking his first cup of coffee at the dining room table when Viv emerged from the bedroom and headed straight for the coffeemaker. She needed a minimum of 8.5 hours of sleep each night or else the following day was a disaster; Sam rarely needed more than 6, so he was often the first one up.

Viv yawned and poured herself a cup, adding almond milk and Splenda.

"Any surprises?" she asked Sam from the kitchen behind him.

"Nothing substantial," he said, scanning the paper.

"Anything worth my time coming?" she said, puttering around the kitchen.

"Maybe, Randi... " Sam started, and he could actually feel Viv stiffen behind him. He was the only person who still called her that, a nickname from a bygone era. The familiarity rankled Viv a little bit, but he couldn't have stopped if he wanted to. She was Randi to him. "You know that weird old house up on Ash Street, the Van Hooten place?"

"Broken down old Victorian?" Viv recalled.

"That's it; some rich European guy bought it and fixed it all up. Randi was headed there last night to a private glitterati party to get the scoop on who this guy is. Apparently he paid cash for it up front."

"She's probably angling for a husband ... or at least a fancy vacation," Viv said, pretending to mutter. Sam heard it loud and clear, just as he was supposed to.

"Right. So anyway, that could be interesting," Sam said with a sigh. "Been a long time since new a power player came to town. Eric's working on another murder/suicide, cops are calling it a 'crime of passion.' Violet Ellis killed the headmaster at Rockford County Day."

"The club owner?" Viv asked, and when Sam nodded, said "Do you think they were, you know ... "

"Fucking?" Sam prompted.

"Gross, Sam," Viv scolded. "Leave the locker talk in the newsroom."

She came around to the front of the table, breakfast-to-go and gym bag ready for her spin class excursion, and glanced at the full color photo on the front page. "That looks messy."

"Anything exciting in your world today?" Sam asked.

"I'm meeting with Father and some of his Preservation Society friends for lunch," she said. "They're still trying to save the factory buildings at the Riverwalk and convert them rather than letting the developers knock them down. I guess they think I might be able to mobilize some of my art clients to support the effort."

"Any chance at that?" Sam asked. "Do people who buy art care about historical preservation?"

"Some ... but really, not too many," she said. "However a loyal daughter does what her father asks."

"I'm surprised your father needs to call in the cavalry - usually he can rally support for stuff like this, right?"

Viv bent down and kissed Sam on his forehead.

"Times change," she said, and headed to the door.

"Have a great day, sweetheart!," he said to her back.

"I will!" he heard from the hall just before the door slammed shut.

***

The newsroom was still somewhat quiet when Sam got into the office around 7:30; most reporters didn't make it in before 10 a.m., so the mornings were the best time to get non-deadline work done. Sam dove into various pieces of paperwork; budget stuff was coming due for the annual report, and he had all sorts of odds and ends to pull together before that monster would be slain.

The tide turned and reporters started to flood into the newsroom, and the madness quickly ramped up to full pitch. Phones rang, keyboards clacked and banter was thrown about. Sam enjoyed his homemade ham sandwich at his desk - with mustard and sweet pepper relish - and kept on working through lunch. Tuesday's story meeting came and went; Lily was out but dutifully sent an email to update Sam on what she was working on for her story.

At 3:30 or so Sam was up at the copy machine scanning expense sheets - the newspaper hadn't exactly modernized much of its internal paperwork - when he caught a glimpse of Miranda furtively entering the office through the side door closest to her desk.

She was wearing big sunglasses and her blonde hair was up in the pen-bun, both of which were normal enough. But strangely she was wearing a cobalt blue silk blouse that clung to her buxom chest in a much more alluring manner than she'd normally display at work, unbuttoned just enough to give a guy a good look. She had on a tight pencil skirt that couldn't be easy to walk in, let alone sneak, and the real coup: she was wearing heels. In the office. Pumps that perfectly matched the blouse, no less.

Sam had never in 11 years seen her wearing heels outside of some fancy function; he knew she actually hated them and wore flats whenever she could get away with it. But they did exaggerate her figure quite well, breasts and ass just a little more prominent.

Despite her attention-grabbing attire, she was clearly looking to sneak into her desk. Sam finished up his scanning and drifted over towards her desk; when he got there, he looked over her cube and saw her bent over, listening to messages on her work phone and jotting down notes.

She saw Sam out of the corner of her eye and started, head whipping around, and then heaved a big sigh of relief when she saw it was him. She held up a single finger to tell him to wait, finished retrieving the messages from her phone, and then softly put the phone back in the receiver.

"Jesus, Randi, are you okay?" Sam asked softly, not wanting to blow her cover.

"Yes. Uh, no. Fuck, I don't know yet," she said, frantically gathering a few things from her desk and tossing them into her bag.

"What happened at the ..." Sam started.

"Not here! Can you meet me at the coffee shop on 3rd in 15 minutes?" Miranda whispered.

"Uh ... yes?"

"Okay! I'll talk to you then," she said, and then breezed out of the office as best she could on her four-inch heels.

When Sam made it down to the coffee shop, closer to 20 minutes later, Miranda was sitting at a corner table in the back, sunglasses still on, oscillating between sipping a huge cappuccino and looking at something on her phone. She looked up and saw Sam and gave him a wave; Sam got a coffee and joined her.

"Randi, what the fuck?" Sam said as he took his seat.

"Sorry about the weirdness in the office Sam, I'm ... not feeling so well ... and I didn't want to ... get bogged down with office stuff," Miranda said. "I'm taking a sick day and I just needed to check my messages. The damn call in voicemail thing is screwed up again."

Sam looked her over from across the table; she didn't look sick, she actually looked ... strangely vivacious, almost glowing.

"You look okay to me ... actually you look better than okay," Sam said, eyeing her up and down. "You might be the only person who dresses up on their sick days. What's with the outfit?"

She looked down at herself, almost seeing her clothing for the first time. She quickly did up another button on her blouse, and then looked at Sam.

"This, oh it's nothing," she said, lying badly. "It's just laundry day, that's all."

"Riiiighhht," Sam said skeptically. "And the pumps? All your sneakers at the dry cleaners too?"

"Fuck the pumps," Miranda said in a harsh whisper, jerking forward across the table. "Listen, Sam ... last night at the party, at Luc's ... I saw some things. I did some things, things I didn't want to do ... except ... "

"Oh shit, Randi, you didn't fall off the wagon, did you?" Sam said, suddenly very concerned. "Is that why you're wearing the sunglasses, because you're hungover?"

He reached out and took the big sunglasses off his long-time friend's face, and Miranda didn't lift a hand to stop him. He'd been there when they were both young reporters, covering for her while she puked half the morning away, snorted a line of coke off the bathroom sink, and then started drinking again by lunch. Her dad died when she was just out of school, left her the sizable family fortune, her own swanky downtown condo and emotionally empty inside.

She went way over the edge, trying to feel something again. When it finally all came crashing down, Sam had been the one to drive her to rehab and picked her up after she finished her program. He'd been scared for years that she'd fall off the wagon because of her job; she was constantly attending parties and galas, official dinners and other things where it was de rigueur to professionally tie one on. But in eight years since Sam picked her up she hadn't had a drink; it was the most amazing display of mental fortitude Sam had ever seen.

Now he looked at her with all the friendship and brotherly concern he could gather in his gaze, and two very bloodshot eyes looked back at him.

"Now do you see why I couldn't come into the office," she said. "People would jump to the same conclusion you did."

"So you're saying you're not hungover," Sam said levelly.

"Sam, I swear to you I'm not," Miranda said, holding his gaze levelly.

Sam looked at her for a few heartbeats, and then leaned back in his chair and took a big sip from his coffee. She was not a good liar, and she wasn't lying now.

"What, so did you get pink eye from that dusty old house?" Sam said.

"No I don't have pink eye," Miranda said, flustered. "At least, I don't think you can get pink eye that way."

"WHAT way?"

Miranda took a deep breath.

"I got cum in my eyes," she said, exhaling.

Sam sat there a beat, unsure he heard her correctly. He rewound his brain and replayed what she just said - an old reporter trick - and after confirmation, he did the only thing he could do. He burst out laughing.

Miranda rolled her very bloodshot eyes at him again and plucked her sunglasses out of his hand, returning them to her face.

"You meet a rich European guy in the clerk's office," Sam said, slowly catching his breath, "and later that night you let him cum on your face?"

"I wouldn't say that, no," Miranda said, frowning.

Sam suddenly sat bolt upright, blood draining from his face, all mirth forgotten.

"You didn't let him, did you?" Sam asked angrily, getting louder. "He forced you, didn't he. He raped you. I will ... "

Miranda reached out and grabbed Sam's arm to cut him off and hunched down at the table, trying to shield herself from a few turning heads.

"For fuck's sake, Sam, will you lower your voice and shut the fuck up for a second," Miranda whispered. "Nobody fucking raped me, I'd be at the police department if they had."

"Okay, okay, I'm listening," Sam said, voice lowered again.

Miranda took another deep breath, let it out, and said, "It was more than one guy. It was four or five. Actually definitely five. And Luc wasn't one of them."

Sam blinked and then teetered backwards, falling as if physically struck. The back of his chair caught him, and he rebounded up off of it and leaned forward across the table.

"That's, uh ... that's a new one," he said quietly.

"I can explain ... I think. Sort of," Miranda said, and thrust her phone into his hands. She titled it horizontally, called up a video and pressed play.

The video began out of focus and the lighting was pretty dim with a red tint, but the camera adjusted itself and Sam made out what was happening pretty quickly. The video was shot at a weirdly low angle, but it unmistakably showed two people fucking. Actually, it was a tall muscular black guy fucking a very well-endowed blonde's tits as she held them together, and she was taking the tip of his cock hungrily into her mouth at the end of every stroke, slurping it audibly. Sam looked around to see if anyone else could hear the moans coming from the video, but nobody seemed to notice. Sam turned back to the video and watched for a few more seconds; the man thrusting, occasionally lightly slapping the woman's large breasts as she held them for him to fuck.

"That ... that's quite something Randi," Sam said. Despite being in a bit of shock from the last minute of bizarre personal revelations and sex videos, Sam felt his cock twitch in his pants. The tit-fucking on the video on Miranda's phone was still very hot - if surprising - and he was still a man.

"Look at their faces; do you recognize who that is?" Miranda said.

Sam took a closer look - their faces hadn't been high priority until now - but after a few seconds he actually did know who both of them were.

"Holy shit, Randi," Sam said. "That's a video of the third district State Rep. Maxwell Gentry tit-fucking the Channel 12 weather girl Bianca whats-her-name."

"Yeah," Miranda said, taking her phone back. "Bukowski."

"And I'm pretty sure they're both married," Sam said.

"Yeah," Miranda said. "and not to each other."

"Holy shit," Sam said, leaning back in his chair again. He took a big sip from his coffee and stared into the distance thoughtfully, then looked back to her. "So ... how did that lead to five dudes cumming on your face?"

"Yeah, so ... you saw how the angle on that video was kind of low? Well that's because I was trying to surreptitiously shoot the video from underneath the table where I was sitting, and they're up on a raised circular platform covered in pillows. It was risky as hell, but that whole thing had been going on for a while and I was sure nobody was paying any attention to me."

"So you got caught?"

"After Max finished by cumming all over Bianca's tits - and I mean all over them, I didn't think one person could have so much cum - and she licked the cum off her own tits and swallowed it like she was starving for it ... uh, yeah, so right after they finished, Luc came up behind me and plucked me out of my seat, holding my wrist of the hand that had the phone in it. I guess I was kind of transfixed by the two of them and wasn't paying enough attention, because he really came out of nowhere to get the jump on me. I was trying to be careful."

"Anyway, he holds up my wrist above our heads so everyone can see the phone, and he wraps his other arm around my waist and pulls me close into his body, so my ass is rubbing right up on him."

"Nobody moves, nobody says a fucking thing, but they're all looking right at me, including Bianca and Max. Luc bends down and whispers into my ear, 'Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. And with this, you're entering free fall, Miranda.'

"So I turn to him and look at him, getting ready to cry out, to claw his eyes and run, to pull the mace from my bag and fill the room with it, whatever it took, and I look into his eyes. He has these deep, deep brown eyes, almost black but not. He pulls me tighter to him and we're pressed against each other, chest to chest. I can feel my heart beating fast and frantic, and I can feel his too, and it's calmly beating away, like he's doing nothing more strenuous than taking an afternoon nap. He's grip on me is so strong, but it's not threatening or aggressive, he's just holding me in place, phone up above my head, body pressed into his, solid.

And everything falls away from the two of us. It's like we're just standing in a dark void, he and I, we're the only things that exist. And I swear his mouth didn't move as I looked at his eyes, but as sure as I'm sitting right here in this chair talking to you, his voice fills my head and it says: 'you have the choice: stay or go.'"

Sam sat across from Miranda while the tale spilled out of her, watching her. All the while she had a faraway look in her eyes, looking across the middle distance while she recalled the prior evening, almost as if she were in a trance.

Now she was stuck, as if those words - 'stay or go' - were still echoing in her head. Sam waited for her to continue, but she just gazed out across the room, looking at nothing.

Finally, Sam prompted her.

"And ... "

Miranda shook herself, and looked back at Sam. Then she looked down at the table.

"And I stayed."

"You stayed," Sam repeated.

"I stayed," Miranda said, still looking at the table. "Because I wanted to stay. And I wanted to kiss Luc. So I kissed him."

"You kissed him?" Sam said incredulously.

"Yes, is there a fucking echo in here or something?" She said, snapping her head back up to Sam. "I kissed him. It bubbled up from deep inside me, and it was the thing I desired the most right in that moment. So I did it."