Underground

Three-thirty-seven was an odd time for a rendezvous, but Clare wasn't going to argue. She stood awkwardly by the subway entrance, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and her heavy bag--only one allowed--from shoulder to shoulder. Although designed for comfort, the nylon straps were straining with the weight of all she'd packed. She checked her watch again, and scanned the busy street anxiously for what felt like the millionth time. Clare spotted him, finally, at the street corner, buying a coffee and a hotdog from the vendor as if he had all the time in the world.

"Were you waiting long?" Ian asked, languidly, taking large bites of his lunch.

"Ian, you yourself said I shouldn't be conspicuous, and I've been waiting on this corner for ten minutes!" She exploded. He balled up his paper tray and carefully tossed it in a nearby trashcan, and then slowly sipped on his coffee. "It's not my fault you came early." He led the way down the subway stairs and she followed, still angry.

"I am a fan of your work," he offered her, as they hustled through the station underground. "Every Monday, I read your column in the Chronicle."

The praise made her annoyance abate, slightly. Clare kept quiet, waiting for him to continue.

"That's why I wasn't surprised to get your message. In fact, I wondered why you waited this long."

"I didn't think.....I had no idea that what I said....would cause so much trouble."

"Cut the shit, Clare," Ian laughed. "Two years' worth of incendiary and investigative columns about our president and his Establishment and you didn't think that it would get you in trouble?"

Clare blushed, grateful that he would not see in their gloomy surroundings. Freedom of the press had been quietly and quickly dying for the past number of years, and many of her colleagues who chose to write against the political Establishment had been just as quietly and quickly disappearing. An anonymous tip had encouraged her to see the services of Ian, to go into hiding, as she might be next.

"You can still write," Ian said, "and I'll make sure that your columns get printed. You can make lists of anything you want--food, clothes, books--and I'll see that you get them. Somethings, that might be 'tells', may take longer to get to you, because we don't want a trail, but you'll basically have all the comforts of home."

They were riding now, getting on and off at stops, zigzagging through stations and back on again in some kind of maniacal relay race. Clare felt dizzy and confused. "How can I pay you? The emails never said,"

Ian looked over at Clare and gave a long pause. "We can discuss that once we reach your place."

Clare was going to be living in some corner of a basement, and she had no idea where. The whole place had been divided into apartments, arranged so she might never know her neighbors. "Pain in the ass, I know," Ian said, apologetically, "But it's better than being dead."

She had one tiny closet for sleeping, one tiny closet for eating and cooking, and one tiny closet fixed up as a bathroom. "You'll only get plumbing for certain times of the day," Ian said. No internet. No phone. Ian would be her only connection to the world--he and his associates. Ian had an elaborate system set up--associates would come by with food, or dvds. Or just to talk so she wouldn't go crazy. He'd come by to pick up her copy, handwritten, if she wanted to keep writing.

"But I have no money now, no job." Clare said anxiously. "How can I pay you?"

They were seated side by side on a threadbare couch crammed into where she would sleep. Ian reached over and ran a finger down the side of her face. "I can think of a way," he said softly.

Clare recoiled. Ian was good looking, perfectly nice. And, she conceded, if these were different circumstances, they'd probably date. And she'd probably sleep with him. But this isn't how she'd planned it.

Ian didn't seem to notice that she'd tensed up. "Clare," he whispered, and climbed onto her lap. He pushed her back against the couch, and forced his mouth on hers. "You know you want this," he said, softly. His hands drifted down the front of her shirt, found her tits, and squeezed them. "I can tell. These tits are so hard." He reached down the front of her blouse, and began to play with her nipples, enjoying feeling them grown hard around his fingers. Clare let out a shocked, small moan. It had been so long....this felt so good....she felt herself begin to relax.

"What are you going to do for me, Clare?" Ian leaned back and pulled her shirt over her head. "Are you going to suck on this cock?" He reached around to unhook her bra. Clare sat there, not moving, letting him do whatever he wanted. "Are you going to ride this cock?" He pulled her bra away from her body. "I want to cum on these tits," he said, leaning down to suck on one.

"Oh, God!" Clare said, moaning. "Whatever you want. Oh, shit, Ian, whatever you want."

"I know. I know. I'm going to take from you whatever I want," Ian stood up abruptly and began to remove his clothing. "Clare, take off your pants...and those panties." he ordered, and she complied. His cock grew harder, watching her do what he asked.

"Get on the bed, Clare," he ordered next, "and spread your legs."

Looking at his massive erection, now free from the confines of his jeans and shorts, Clare felt sure that she was going to get fucked. But Ian put his head between her legs, and pushed two fingers into her cunt. "You're very wet," he said, pushing his fingers around, making her writhe. "I like that." He began to eat her and fuck her cunt with his fingers, making her yell loudly and uncontrollably. "Be as loud as you need to, Clare. No one can hear us." He felt her begin to tense as she grew closer to orgasm. He pulled his fingers out and stood up. Her face showed tension, need. He loved seeing her like this.

"Please," she begged. "I need to cum. Please finish me."

"I like to hear you beg," he said. "Turn over, put your ass in the air, and say it again."

Clare did, begging uncontrollably, her voice slightly muffled. Ian, stroking his massive hard on, ran his hands down both sides of her impressive ass. He then stuck his fingers back inside her pussy. "You're still so wet," He murmured appreciatively, before leaning over her and pushing his hard cock into her cunt.

"Oh, shit! Please fuck me, please fuck me!" Clare yelled, as he jammed his huge penis in and out of her impossibly wet cunt. His hands reached around to stroke her nipples, which were impossibly hard. "God! My tits, my cunt, oh, fuck, I'm going to cum!"

"Do it! I want you to cum on my cock!" He fucked her deeper, pushing his large cock as deep into her pussy as it would go, rubbing each nipple with his fingers, as she began to scream and yell as her body quivered as she came. Again, her doing exactly what he ordered excited him, and he could feel his own orgasm mounting. He pulled out quickly. "On your back!" He ordered, as Clare, still gasping, moved as he directed. Pumping his cock, he felt the release of his orgasm flooding him, as he came all over her tits and mouth. "Lick it," he said, and she leaned forward to clean off his cock, swallowing.

As she lay there, covered in cum and still breathing hard, with her heart pounding, Clare knew she would not mind being sent underground.