by Jamie Hunter
“No criminal record?” Cassandra asked.
“None that I could locate,” said the man. “He looks clean.”
I’ll be the judge of that, she thought to herself.
Cassandra sighed innocently. “Well,” she said, reaching back to hike up her skirt. “A deal’s a deal.”
Cassandra bent over the desk, exposing her ass. She wore a powder blue G-string, so thin it was almost non-existent.
“Want these off?” she asked, pulling on the tiny waistband.
“No.” The man’s voice was husky now. Thick with lust. “Leave them on.”
He approached her. She could hear the jingle of his belt buckle, the sound of his pants flopping to the floor. His hands went to her hips, his palms smoothing themselves over the globe of her perfect ass. They were warm at least.
Marco was an ex-cop. He did private work now, and he was good at what he did. She’d met him years ago, and they’d quickly developed a mutually-beneficial business relationship. Marco could get fast information on anyone whenever she needed. And via her own contacts, and her computer, Cassandra had access to certain information Marco could never hope to obtain.
They didn’t start screwing right away, but of course that happened. Usually when one or both of them had hit a dry spell, and needed a little release. Cassandra’s dry spells were of course a lot less frequent than his.
She reached for the mouse. Pulled up a search engine.
Marco’s hand slid between her legs. He began rubbing her through her panties.
“You’re wet already. I love it.”
“This his list of known addresses?”
“Yes.”
Cassandra worked her way through the standard searches first. The name was fairly common, which made it a bit harder. The addresses helped. Plus, she had some other tricks.
Marco, in the meantime, had pressed himself up against her ass. She could feel him now, skin on skin. His shaft, swollen and warm, was pressing insistently between her thighs.
He hooked a thumb into her G-string. Pulled it to one side.
“Right to business?” she asked sweetly, without looking over her shoulder.
“Like you said. A deal’s a deal.”
Marco slowly rubbed the tip of his cock up and down Cassandra’s hot, wet slit. She tried ignoring the obvious pleasure and focused on the task at hand.
The name Victor Ramsay appeared in a number of places on the Internet. Some were obviously not the man she was looking for. Others she ruled out by locale and age alone.
Marco pushed forward. Cassandra felt her lips part as the head slipped in.
The dark-haired man with the white streaks in his hair had to be in his mid 30’s or 40’s. She hadn’t seen him up close, but she could gauge that much from the way he looked, the way he dressed— “Mmmmmm…”
Marco groaned as he pushed all the way into her. Cassandra arched her back slightly, shoving her ass out to give him better access. Temporarily she even closed her eyes to savor the moment. But she’d never tell him that.
“Damn you’re tight.”
“Only for you, honey.”
Cassandra enjoyed teasing him. She and Marco had a love-hate relationship, often trading jabs and insults throughout their time together. She enjoyed the verbal and mental sparring. He was a good partner in that regard.
As a lover however, Marco was only mediocre. ‘Unimaginative’, Cassandra had once called him. That had led to yet another fight.
He was really putting the screws to her now. A particularly hard thrust rocked her against the computer table.
But he did have his moments.
“Have you checked out any of these addresses?” she asked through clenched teeth. He was starting to feel really good.
“Only the business. It’s abandoned.” He was gripping her hips now. Sliding all the way out, all the way in. Full strokes. The way she liked it.
“Abandoned?”
“Yeah, it’s an empty storefront. The records suck. Not sure what was ever really there.”
She went back to work. Some of the deeper digging she’d do later on, back in front of her own machine. But she wanted to do all the obvious searching from here. A neutral location, where it would be impossible to trace anything back to her.
Okay, time for photos.
Her initial image searches turned up nothing. But Cassandra drilled down. Tried abbreviations, initials, partial names. Appending pieces of the name ‘Victor Ramsay’ in various combinations until— There he was. A single image.
It was blurred and out of focus, as if the picture of the man had been cropped from a larger photo, or taken from an older, low-resolution camera. It was only his head, and part of his shoulders. But it was definitely him.
“Gotcha.”
“What’s that?” Marco called. He was out of breath now. Or out of practice, Cassandra smirked inwardly.
“Oh, nothing.”
Marco continued nailing her doggie-style. His well-manicured fingers were digging into her ass now, curled downward with his rising arousal. Cassandra let go, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation of being filled from behind. She rocked back against him on a few of the longer thrusts, taking him even deeper inside her.
“You almost done back there?”
“W—What?” Marco gasped. He’d gone from out of breath to winded.
“I really have to go.”
“But I’m not even close to coming yet.”
Cassandra chuckled. “That’s not my problem.”
Marco continued sliding in and out of her. “But we had a deal,” he argued.
“The deal was you’d look up this license plate, and I’d let you fuck me while I used your computer.” She closed the browser. Pushed the mouse away. “And I’m all done using your computer.”
He paused mid-stroke. Cassandra smiled. She could envision his face right now, drawn with confusion, trying to decide if she were serious.
In one motion she stood up, turned around, and dropped to her heels before him. His erection throbbed just inches from her face.
“Never mind,” she said, wrapping a hand around him. “I know what you want.”
She plunged it into her mouth.
Marco’s hands went into her hair as Cassandra began blowing him. She took him all the way, grabbing the back of his naked ass to pull him deeper into her throat.
“Oh— Oh God.”
It was a phrase he repeated quite a few times while Cassandra continued to work. She’d been with Marco enough times to know what he liked. What got him off. She stroked him with one very wet fist, all the while teasing the underside of his balls with the tips of her fingernails.
“I’m getting close…”
Sure, she could’ve left him hanging. It would’ve all been within the scope of their ‘deal’. It might even have been amusing, to hold that little victory over his head for a while. But Marco had done a good job with the plate number, and Cassandra was in a good mood.
“Unnnghhhhh!”
His whole body went rigid as he erupted into her mouth. Dutifully she took it all. In the end, Cassandra used her fist to pump out the last tiny bit of his seed onto her waiting tongue. Mouth still open she looked up at him, winked, and swallowed.
Marco took a half step backward, knees weak. He slumped naked into a nearby chair.
“You’re wicked,” he breathed.
“I know.”
Cassandra was already standing. She smoothed her skirt back down, untousled her hair, and headed for the door.
“Bye Marco,” she called from the hallway. “Call me if you learn anything else.”
“I’ll call you anyway,” he gasped after her.
But Cassandra was already gone.
Three
Cassandra was right. The bar was packed.
She scanned the crowd as she wiped down her work area. When it came to getting out, the rain never seemed to keep people like this away. They came in droves, and they came thirsty. Cassandra f
igured if they had to be cooped up inside, they’d rather be here among friends, having fun.
That’s okay, she thought. More tips for me.
There had been three fights so far. Seven people thrown out. Two women had even gone at it, presumably fighting over the same guy because he was actually caught in the middle. As the combatants fell to the floor in a tangle of fists and hair, the guy just stood there, smiling casually over the rim of his glass. Cassandra had bought him a drink for that.
Coming up on midnight, the crowd had thinned out bit. Up until now, the constant flow of work kept her too busy to even think. But now that she could? Her thoughts shifted back to Victor Ramsay.
So far she hadn’t done anything with the information Marco had given her. There hadn’t been enough time. Tomorrow though, she planned to cruise past his address. Maybe check out the other places on Marco’s list, see what they— Cassandra’s arm stopped mid-stroke. She dropped the towel.
There he was.
She almost couldn’t believe it. Even blinked a few times, just to make sure. But it was unmistakably him. Victor Ramsay sat alone at the end bar, staring off at nothing, an empty glass in one hand.
She practically ran for him. He glanced up at her as she approached, but didn’t show the slightest reaction.
“I’ll have another beer,” he said. He pushed his glass in her direction.
Cassandra was utterly speechless. And that was something that didn’t happen very often.
“Are you serious?“ she replied.
The man looked back at her nonplussed.
“Yes. A beer. Like the one I already had.” When she still hadn’t moved, he added “Please?”
He’s playing a game, she though. Fine.
“What kind of beer?”
“Something from the tap is fine,” he said. “As long as it’s not any of that ‘lite’ beer.”
Cassandra reached backward for a glass, keeping an eye on him the whole time. She half expected him to disappear the second she started pouring.
“Thanks,” he said when she served him. He nodded to a twenty-dollar bill already on the bar.
She looked over him carefully in the mirror as she made change. He seemed even taller this close up. Distinguished. He wore a businessman’s attire; a sharp button-down dress shirt with a dark red tie. And of course, the trench coat.
Yet it was his face that interested her most. His jaw and cheekbones maintained a stern masculinity among the lines of wisdom that belied his age. And he was handsome. Very much so. But in a dark, sexy way.
And his eyes. Those dark eyes.
Cassandra leaned forward and peered right into them. Victor looked back. A moment passed between them. Then a thick lock of his black hair fell over one eye, breaking their stare.
“Did you need anything else?” Cassandra asked, standing up straight again.
“No, thank you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Positive.”
She closed the register. “Okay Victor,” she said. “Call me if you need another.”
Cassandra spun away, not even looking for his reaction. The ball was in his court now. If he wanted to play it, fine.
If not…
She went back to work. Every drink she poured, every customer she served, Cassandra kept the man safely in the corner of one eye. He drank slowly, never once looking her way. Finally, glass drained, he stood up and reached for his money. Some he pocketed, some he left as a tip.
As he turned for the rear door Cassandra flew back in that direction…
… and bumped straight into Johnny G, the other bartender.
“Hey! Quit running!”
She never stopped moving. “John, cover for me!” She slipped deftly past him. He grunted in protest. “Two minutes,” she called over her shoulder. “Five, tops.”
Cassandra hit the back exit and swung quickly through the door. She expected an empty street. Victor was still there however, coat fluttering behind him as he strode calmly away.
“What is it with you?” she asked. He spun around.
“Pardon?”
“Who are you? What do you want from me?”
The man shrugged. “Nothing.” He started to turn back again.
“Nothing, except this is the third time I’ve seen you this week,” Cassandra said. “You’ve been following me.”
The man laughed. “I’ve been what?”
“I saw you at the laundromat. Tuesday.”
“Tuesday, Tuesday…” He touched his chin. “Ah yes. I was washing my clothes.”
“No you weren’t.”
The man’s eyes flashed. His mouth curled into a smirk.
He’s enjoying this, she realized. Playing with me. The thought infuriated her.
“And you were outside my apartment this morning,” she insinuated. “Staring up at my place.”
“Staring up at your place?” Victor’s eyes narrowed, as if searching his memory. “Nope, sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
Cassandra folded her arms. “You’re lying.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” he asked smartly. “You saw me in a few public places and suddenly I’m following you?”
The headlights of a passing car floated by in silence, illuminating the rain. Cassandra had forgotten it was even raining. Neither of them spoke.
“Goodnight,” Victor said. He spun around and began walking away.
She watched him go. Struggled with what to do next.
Let him go, her inner voice advised. He’s trouble.
He hadn’t gotten ten steps before Cassandra caught up to him. Her hand fell on his arm.
“Now who’s following who, Cassandra?”
The dropping of her name shouldn’t really have surprised her. Somehow it did.
“See? You do know who I am!”
Victor shrugged again. “So what? I know of you.”
“And why? Why do you know of me?” Cassandra noticed she was still holding his arm. It felt big in her hand, powerful beneath his coat. The muscles were taut.
“Maybe I was staring at you that day in the laundromat because I found you pretty.”
Cassandra let go of his arm. It was an answer she hadn’t expected.
“Not sure if you’re aware of this,” the man added confidentially, “but you’re very beautiful.”
They were standing close now. Toe to toe. A light rain pattered down all around them.
“Maybe I wanted to do this.”
Victor leaned in slowly. Took her chin in his hand.
Kissed her.
It was long, deep, sensual. There was nothing hurried about it. Cassandra’s mouth parted and admitted his tongue, her eyes closing blissfully as she found herself kissing him back. The man’s hand left her chin to caress the side of her face. His fingers went over her ear. Into her hair…
Victor was the one that finally broke the kiss. He stepped back. Cassandra was left standing there, practically on her toes, her body still tingling all over.
“It’s just too bad you’re not my type,” he said.
Without another word, he walked away.
Four
Cassandra drove way too recklessly, way too fast. It was a bad habit of hers; something that occurred whenever she was angry or frustrated.
She knew it but she did it anyway.
After Victor walked off, Cassandra had stood dumbfounded before storming back into the bar. She worked only another fifteen or maybe twenty minutes, spilling drinks, slamming them down in front of astonished patrons… eventually Johnny G relieved her of the remainder of her shift, and she had gratefully ducked out.
Not my type…
The words still bounced furiously around in her head.
NOT MY TYPE?
Cassandra’s tired squealed in protest as she took the next corner. Luckily she was almost there. If her destination had been any further away she might’ve ended up in the back of a police car… or maybe even worse.
She parked where she
definitely should not have parked.
Stormed up the short walkway, knocked on the door.
Matt opened it almost immediately. His face registered pure shock. Cassandra stormed past him, grabbed his wrist, and dragged him back inside.
“Uh… hi.”
She didn’t say anything. Grabbing the back of his head, Cassandra pulled him close and started kissing him.
“I— I uh…”
She pushed him backward, onto the couch. Stood over him.
“I need you,” was all she said.
Cassandra crawled into Matt’s lap. She still wore her work outfit: tight blue jeans and a black fitted tube top. Grabbing his hands, she pulled them around her waist and deposited them on her ass.
“Is… is this okay?” he asked lamely. He didn’t take her hands from her ass though.
She responded by tonguing her way down his neck. Nibbling on it. Kissing it. She shifted to straddle his leg. The pressure felt amazing.
“I mean… aren’t we broken up?” he fumbled. “Y— you told me—”
Cassandra leaned back and looked at him. “Matt?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want to get laid?”
He blinked a few times. “Well yeah. Of course I do.”
“Then stop talking.”
He nodded. When it came to women Matt lacked a lot of common sense, but he’d dated Cassandra long enough to catch on fairly quickly.
Cassandra pulled off his shirt. Kissed her way down his chest. Though it was well past midnight, she knew he’d be up. Matt was a night owl, much like her. It was one of the few things they were totally compatible on.
He straightened his leg, giving her room to screw down on it. The pleasure from the grinding was exquisite. She could probably reach orgasm just like this.
But what would be the fun in that?
“Get up.”
He stood up and they helped each other undress. It took only seconds. The nakedness felt liberating, but the itch was still there. It was an itch that started deep in her belly and spread tantalizingly downward.
She had to scratch it.