Chapter 1

Taggart Oliver Bonewell, Tag to his friends, was a detective, a private eye, a gumshoe, but a failed one of late. After six years on the police force, six long years of fighting his dislike for authority and his inability to play by the rules, he had formed his own P.I. shop, Taggart Bonewell Investigations. Discretion Assured.

He loved the idea of being his own boss and answering to no one. His time was his own and it was nobody's business just how he went about spending it. He wasn't too crazy about having to do all the necessary paperwork crap, such as billing and those dreaded tax forms, but he felt it was a cheap price to pay for his freedom.

At first, things had gone swimmingly well. He had four cases from personal recommendations, had solved all of them and had made over thirty grand in less than two months of deductive reasoning. He even hired a secretary who was also the receptionist and wore many other hats, as the day called for. Tag also took on a bigger and better office. With a bigger and better nut to crack each month. And that monthly nut was about to crack him.

Because the economy changed. Cases still came his way, but they were getting fewer and farther between. He was now down to his last five hundred bucks, with the office rent of six hundred due in a few weeks. Not to mention his own apartment rent, which was due around the same time. There was no way, he knew, of having money be in two places at the same time. Something had to give. He knew just what that something would be. He shaved it every day.

His secretary, Lucy Fern, hadn't been paid in who knows how long and the work phone was being threatened by its first turn-off notice. A sweet reminder that the phone company is really not your friend. His home phone would surely follow suit, leaving him in possession of his first cellphone paperweight.

His business, he well knew, was in the old crapper with a giant invisible hand poised on the flusher. If he didn't do something real soon, it was flushy flushy time, hello sewer.

Motivated, he groaned his way out of bed and went to stand before his full length closet door mirror. As he always slept nude, the man in the mirror was also naked. Shit, he thought, I'm too fucking pretty to have these problems. He liked the image that now looked back at him. Grinning, just as he was.

People told him he reminded them of Tom Selleck and it was true, to some extent. In his mid-thirties and 6' 2" tall, with wavy brown hair and deep brown eyes, he did cut a good looking figure. As a male friend of his had once said, "Taggy, for some unknown reason, women just love the cut of your jib." He had playfully asked the guy what he meant by a jib. The clown replied, "Oh, a jib is an 8" thing with the big, purple head. Any fool knows that!"

He grinned at the man in the mirror and watched in fascination as it imitated him. Shit, he thought, I look downright dopey, grinning like that! Especially with my jib hanging down and all. He did a little dance, making his jib wobble about. The guy in the mirror played along and wobbled his jib back at him.

But, he thought, there ain't nothing dopey about my 8" jib! He grabbed it and wiggled it at the mirror, half expecting the mirror to flinch and look away. When it echoed his pecker dickerings in kind, he felt absolutely silly.

Christ, he thought, this must be how gays get into their game. Looking at their own dicks must make them want to get on their knees and try to suck it. Then when their mirror image also gets on its knees, whoa, baby, frustration sets in and they go looking for an alternative answer.

He knelt before his image just to prove the point. See, he thought, dumb fucker won't remain standing! "Hey, buddy," he said to the mirror. "I'll do you if you'll do me!" No go. The fucking image wanted to go first. Every time. Yeah, he mused, that's what causes homosexuality. Mirrors!

He looked at the clock on the bedroom wall. 7:00 a.m. Good. He'd get into the office earlier than Lucy and have time to plan his next move. A move he all ready knew the answer to. What choice was there after all? None. But, on the bright side, it would put a hold on the giant crapper flusher hand.

An hour later found him seated at his office desk, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. As he sipped, he reread the contract he had signed. His first careful reading. He had only scanned it just before signing, trusting all he had learned by watching Perry Mason on TV to make sure he wasn't being sneakily enlisted into the Israeli navy. Maybe I should have, he thought, been more Mason-like and read more than just the first page. Ah, well, next time.

The contract said, in essence, that in exchange for performing the duties of the house dick at the Wellington Hotel, he would be paid the sum of $70,000 per annum. A two-bedroom apartment suite would also be provided for his personal use and would act as his office. All the amenities, rent, phones, cable, what have you, were to be part of the package. In a word, he now had no more monthly expenses except food and clothing. He could live with that.

Also included was his choice of any car available from the motor pool for his personal use. A limo and driver would also be provided for his use, should the need arise for him to wine and dine some V.I.P. He could live with that, too.

It was a ten-year contract, something he had insisted on. They wanted it to be for five, but he had won the point. Perry would be proud. This would give him a feeling of security, something he badly needed at the moment. He had a twinge that he was selling out somehow, but how bad could it be?

The hotel's owner, David Cunningham, had pleased Tag as well when he said Tag would be, in essence, his own boss and wouldn't be bothered by anyone, including Cunningham himself. He resided in Dallas, Texas, some 1,000 miles away and would only get involved if the shit hit the old fan. Tag liked Cunningham. He was a straight shooter, a no bullshit kind of guy.

The contract also included the use of all the hotel's amenities, including the pool, but the thing that Tag had almost begged Cunningham for, was in there, too. Lucy was to be his personal assistant with a salary nearly twice the crap he never paid her. She'd be pleased, he thought. He let his mind wander further along the Lucy trail.

They had been having sex since the first day he had hired her. She was not shy when it came to sex. Christ, he thought, she fairly ripped the fucking clothes off of me! A wild woman, to be sure. And Tag made no attempt to tame her.

Speak of the Devil! Tag heard Lucy's key working the outer front door. She was early, too. Was she always early? He had no idea, now that he thought about it. He usually strolled in when he was damned good and ready, which usually meant anywhere between 9:00 a.m. and noon.

As he heard her settling in outside his office, he had the urge to see her lovely face and feast his eyes on that dynamite body. His crotch stirrings told him that much. And he was all ears.

"Could you come in here, Luce?" He hollered through the connecting door.

She hollered back. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Boneher-until-her-eyes-pop-out. I'll be right there... when I get there, that is!"

That Luce, he thought, a regular cut-up. A real card. Funny lady.

A dozen times a week, or more, he had to hear one of her cutesy bastardizations of his name. Mr. Boneher-good-and-hard. Mr. Boneher-all-night-long. Mr. Boneher-make-her-moana. Mr. Boneher-until-she-passes-out. That Luce. One funny fucking lady. And it didn't look as if she planned to stop doing it any time real soon. Not that he really wanted her to. It was part of their office high jinks and Tag would miss it if she stopped.

Thinking of her now, he reached in to the desk's center drawer and took out her latest poem effort. Real talent, that kid, he thought as he read it again:

The Price of Fame, by Lucy Fern
He's been buried by obscurity
So no one knows his name.
For years he managed easily
To dodge this thing called fame.

Then one day, to his surprise
His name was all the rave.
And any soul with two good eyes
Can read it on his grave.

Here lies George de Mestral 1907-1990

While walking in the woods one day
He saw the cocklebur.
It truly had a funny way
To cling to clothes and fur.

His microscope revealed the fact
Upon that fateful morn.
That hooks and loops can interract
And Velcro had been born!

Oh, yeah, he thought, real talent. His door opened, so he looked up.

Lucy entered his office and he got his first look at her of the day. He had come in early and missed his usual morning treat of seeing her at the receptionist's desk, her luscious tits on display, that bright face of hers starting his day with one of her sweet, sex-laden smiles. No matter how shitty the day that loomed ahead seemed it was going to turn out, Lucy Fern made him feel glad he had been born a man.

She now rolled and batted her eyes at him. "You want I should take some DICK-tation, Mr. Boneher-In-all-her-holes-at-once?" She smiled at him and licked her lips. He smiled back.

Then, without showing a care in the world, she quickly raised up her blouse and flashed her braless breasts at him. And, just as quickly, pulled the blouse back down. Then up and then down again. It reminded him of strobe lighting. The luscious, big-nippled orbs were there one minute, gone the next. Too fast to fully get a good look, but slow enough to get a full look. If you get the drift. Tag's mouth watered up.

Ms. Lucy Fern! Tag's faithful gal Friday. A 23 year old natural redhead with a body Tag believed had been created just for sex. God, he thought, must be a tad lecherous, if not downright perverted, to have created this perfect 36-24-38 creature. Yeah, old Tag knew her exact measurements. He had asked her for them for two reasons: He wanted to know and he didn't want God to be the only one who knew. God didn't seem to mind sharing the statistic.

Her young, firm 36D breasts reminded him of two football halves, only in pink. They pointed straight out and looked as if they were easily defying gravity's tenacious pull. The oversized areolas had a nipple dead center in each that would make even the fussiest baby salivate a river. They jutted out a good half-inch and seemed to always be on the hard side of arousal.

Put a pair of the loveliest, shapeliest legs you can conjure up on her 5' 7" frame and, while you're at it, add a firm bubble-butt ass that won't quit no time soon and you'll have a better picture of Lucy Fern.

But, as Tag might say, don't stop there, Buddy!

Add a pair of pouty lips with the bottom lip so large, so plump, so luscious, it looked as if someone had invented a thing called the lip-pillow. Any guy with blood in his veins found it hard to hear her when she talked. Their minds wandered. They couldn't take their eyes off that bottom lip as it worked on putting out the words. They were mesmerized by that bottom lip. And, as sure as shit stinks, they were picturing those lips around their cocks, that bottom lip working a magic found only in a sex fiend's idea of heaven on earth.

Yeah, Tag thought as he looked at her now, with that face, those lips, those tits, those legs, that un-fucking-believable ass, a guy don't know what to look at first. His eyes took in the Lucy Fern circuit. Face. Lips. Tits. Legs. Then back the other way. The ass could wait for later, although he had to resist the urge to ask her to turn around.

As usual, he felt his cock stir and start its familiar push against his trousers. The Lucy circuit trip could do that to a guy. Any guy. Even one in his nineties. Or in his grave. Tag could imagine some morbid mortician saying, "Ms. Fern, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave this here funeral. Your presence is making the stiff stiff!" Oh, yeah, it could happen.

"Luce, I've made a life-altering decision. I know I haven't paid you in two months... "

"Three, but who's counting, Mr. Boneher-without-paying?" She giggled. He smiled at her, thinking, you gorgeous cunt, you.

"OK, three. But anyway, Lu, I'm going to take a job I've been offered. Hotel Detective at the Wellington... "

"House DICK, Taggy? Sounds perfect for a man of your many, uh, say we say, talents!" She smiled and grabbed her crotch and wiggled her hand around. "So many talents, Mr. Boneher-what's-your-name?" He laughed. She wiggled her hand some more.

"Will you be fucking serious for a mo, huh, Luce? Put that runaway libido of yours in neutral for a sec, OK?" He made an attempt at a stern face, but he couldn't help but give a little giggle. She brought her working hand up in a smart, drill sargeant's salute. The simple action made her breasts jiggle.

"Yes, Sir, General Boneher-with-hard-as-steel-nuts!" She held the salute. Then she wiggled her ass back and forth a bit. He laughed, but he knew the battle was over and his cock was now in command of the troops. And of him.

"Ah, fuck it, I give up, Luce. Get your beautiful redheaded ass over here, Corporal Lucy, to get your fucking orders." He rubbed his cock through trouser cloth with his right hand and beckoned her over with the left. "Is the front door locked?" He knew it was. She nodded, but remained standing where she was. She was in a playful mood.

"You want fucky fucky me, soldier? I give you sucky sucky. No fucky fucky me. Me want sucky sucky you. Me want all day to sucky sucky your big fucky fucky stick. Hokay?" She licked her bottom lip a few times making it glisten with her saliva. Tag involuntarily shifted his ass in the chair, his hardon seemingly even harder than before. Lucy was in one of her cocksucking moods. He played along. He liked that mood.

"Only sucky sucky?" he asked. "OK, Corporal, but it better be the best sucky sucky I've ever had, lady, and I've had the best sucky sucky in the world. Capish?" He opened his fly and fished out his large 8" cock. The head looked more swollen than usual. He wiggled it at her as she took off her blouse and tossed it on a chair. Her beautiful breasts now stood out in a perfect array of titty symmetry. Tag rubbed his cockhead and let a small moan escape his lips. Lucy spoke.

"Capish, Mr. Boneher-in-the-throat-until-she-swallows. But let me see if I have this right. You want me to suck that magnificent lollipop of yours until your eyes bug out and you forget your last name." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip again. "And you want me to give you the best blowjob you've ever had." The tongue took its bottom lip trip again. "And you want me to swallow every drop of your sticky, icky, gummy cummy without spilling a drop on the rug. That about right?" Her tongue now made the full circuit of both lips, going around and around suggestively. She had her hands on both breasts, squeezing them.

"Fuck yeah!" He stood up, dropped his trousers and shorts and stepped out of them. He sat back down. His legs were spread out wide and his hairy cock pointed up at the ceiling in a 45 degree angle. The tip of his cockhead was covered with precum making it look slick and shiny. He didn't wipe it off. He knew she liked licking it away.

She crossed the room to him and pulled up her mini skirt as she knelt down between his muscular legs. Without underwear, her beautiful red bush, neatly trimmed in a triangular shape, was now tantalizingly before him. She grabbed the base of his manhood with one hand and, at the same time, put her other hand into her red bush. Tag knew she just loved masturbating while she sucked him off. He enjoyed her doing that, too. It added something lewd to the goings on.

She moved his cock so it was positioned an inch or so from her lips and then, as if speaking into a microphone, said, "Hello! Hello! Mayday! Mayday! Is anyone there? If you can hear me, I'm locked in a dark room with a large and meaty, one-eyed monster and I think he wants to choke me to death! S.O.S. Suck Or Sink! Oh, no! I'm going down! Down! Down! Choke, choke! Gasp, gasp!" She lowered her head.

Tag laughed as she took his blood-gorged cockhead into her mouth, shamming choking and sputtering. "God, Luce, that fucking mouth of yours is unreal! It's like a furnace! A hot and very wet furnace."

He placed his hands on the back of her neck, urging her to take more of him into her mouth. She not only complied, she deep-throated him. "Oh, baby, no one sucks cock like you do! Those lips of yours are something else!" He moaned as she went up and down, full throating him on every fourth downward stroke, her head turning left and right, her tongue swirling all over him.

"You like sucking my cock, baby?"

She moaned an "Hmm Hmm."

"Taste good?"

"Hmm Hmm."

"Tell me, baby. Talk to me!" She removed her mouth from his prick, licked her lips and looked into his eyes. She was till fingering herself frantically.

"Oh, Taggy, I love sucking you off! You have such a magnificent cock. The head is so spongy, so hard and soft at the same time. I love the way the ridge makes my lips feel when they cross back and forth over it." She knew he loved to hear her talk about it. "I love it when my lips touch your pubic hairs. It feels as if I'm full of your cock, gorged on it, impaled on it. Oh, shit, Tag, Darling, I'm gonna cum!" She shuddered. "Oh, God!" she whispered. "Oh, God!" Tag had been tweaking both of her distended nipples while her fingering was taking place. She shuddered again, her eyes rolling skyward. "Oh, God!' She was in an 'Oh, God' rut. Tag nipple-tweaked her wildly. It was his job, after all.

Lucy, having subsided a bit, grabbed her cock mike again. "To anyone who can hear me, don't send help! Repeat, don't send help! I think I can tame this big ass creature all by myself, thank you. C'mere, you big fucking one-eyed monster! You've met your match! Over and out!" Tag laughed. That Lucy!

She grabbed his cock and went at it full bore, no holds barred. She sucked and slurped and licked and tongued. And salivated. She salivated so much his crotch area was sopping wet. Tag watched with lewd glee as drop after drop of her saliva cascaded down his cock shaft and added to the puddle at the base. It was so sloppy. And so hot. And so wet. And so un-fucking-real. All the while her left hand was caressing and manipulating his ballsack.

His hands were back behind her neck and he was pushing his ass off the chair slightly, gently mouth-fucking her. They had an excellent rhythym going. He knew he was close to shooting off, but he didn't want it to end. It felt too good. Hold out, he thought to himself, make it last, baby.

He did his best to hold out, and he did for a while, but it was finally way to much for him to control. He felt his balls rise and pucker up in a prelude to his cumming. He gave Luce the taste-my-cum words, "Just the head, baby, just the head!" She scooted up from the deep-throat spot to a point where her lips were just equal to the cockhead's ridge. Tag knew, and she knew he knew, that she wanted to feel it cum, taste the cum, not have it go directly into her stomach. What fun was there in that?

She was still massaging his rising balls when she felt the first of the cum start to travel under her thumb at the base. It rippled beneath her thumb as it made its short trip to her mouth. However, even before it reached its destination, she felt another distinct ripple. She knew she was about to get a mouthful. And she loved the thought. She wiggled her tongue across the underside, tickling the glan penis, urging the cum on. As if it needed urging!

Most men, so it's said, cum a full teaspoon, but Tag wasn't like most men. His usual, run-of-the-mill cum load was around three tablespoons. Which means, if you're up on your cooking equivalency measurements, nine of those teaspoons. He was one heavy cummer, old Taggart was. Two times in his life, to two women's chagrin, his load was so big it was choked on and it actually came out their nostrils. He avoided this from happening again by educating any woman who wanted to taste him, to swallow, swallow, swallow. One of the hapless women just happened to be Lucy.

Lucy was now ready to swallow. His first spurt was so forceful it not only hit the back of her throat, it slid down somewhat. Swallow. This was followed by four more throat-hitting spurts with a well-timed swallow here and a swallow there by Lucy. Her mouth had filled fully twice so far.

Then came his usual puddling effect. Cum just poured out of his cockhead, bubbling out, finding her tongue, and flooding her mouth a third time.

This time, Lucy did what she loved to do. She swished the large amount of cum around in her mouth before swallowing it all. She loved to feel it coating the entire interior of her mouth, even her teeth. To her, it tasted like heaven would taste if heaven was a flavor. A cum flavor.

She moaned as she swallowed it all. And fingered herself very quickly. His cockhead was still in her mouth, she opened it wide and said, "Oh, Dod, I'm cubbing abain!" Tag understood every mumbled word.

She then vacuum sucked his cock clean for a few minutes. Finally, removing her mouth, she looked up at him, a glazed look in her eyes.

"Oh, Tag, that was so fucking good!" He just nodded as he tweaked a nipple. She shuddered and pulled away. "Oooh!" She shuddered again, her legs trembling. "Oh, Taggy, I'm gonna be tasting you all day!" She now felt playful.

Lucy reached out and grabbed her microphone again. It was now limp in her hand. "To anyone who can hear me, the big, one-eyed beast is dead... Oh, No! Wait!" Using her thumb and forefinger, she squeezed Tag's cockhead, opening and closing the pee hole.

"It's still alive! It's winking at me, the cocky fucker. Hold on!" She reached out and pushed her tongue into the pee hole and wiggled it around. "I've just stuck my tongue into its eye and I think that did it." She squeezed the cockhead and wiggled it back and forth.

"Yep, he's down for the count. No signs of life. Now, if his two pals, Ike and Mike, don't get him outta here, I'm gonna bite his big, fucking head off! Over and out!" She leaned forward as if to do just that.

Tag, shamming great fear and cupping both hands over his genitals, jumped back a foot. He laughed as she stood up.

:Luce, I swear, you should do a one-woman show on Broadway. I know I'd pay to see it!"

"See it? Shit, Taggy, I ain't doing it unless your big, one-eyed monster co-stars!"

"Does it get top billing?"

"No, Taggy Waggy, I'm the star, so I get to be on top." She giggled. "Besides, it doesn't have any lines to learn!" She giggled again.

"Yeah, you say that now, but knowing you, you'll expect it to growl on cue." Now he giggled.

"So?" she said. "Is that asking too much from a co-star?"

Then, knowing what he just loved to do afterward, she sat on the edge of his desk and spread her legs, her pussy in clear sight. He leaned forward in his chair and, without saying a word, buried his head into her crotch area. Early in their game, and out of curiosity, she had asked him why he liked doing this, eating her out after any form of sex.

"Shit, woman," he had said. "there are two reasons. One, I want you truly satisfied. Way satisfied. And two, I love eating a pussy when it's hot and steamy after cumming. It feels fantastic to me. Any objections, Ma'am?"

"Objections?" she had said. "Fuck, if my wimp of a husband had your philosophy, I'd still be married to the frigging twerp!"

But that was then and this is now. Tag not only ate her pussy, he devoured it. Shit, he even nose-fucked her! His lower face was soon covered with her feminine juices. He tongued her gently and roughly and alternated between the two. He became a frenzied pussy eating maniac!

He would lick her clit and then suck on it. Perhaps bite it gently. He would swirl his tongue all over the place, making her squeal with pleasure. Driving her from one orgasm to another. He was fucking relentless in his desire to pleasure her. And she loved him for it. Her moans, groans, and yells told him that much.

As he chewed and licked her to a state of madness, he played with her breasts, her nipples. His hands stroked her back and the top of her ass. He licked her inner thighs. In a word, he drove her nuts and made her involuntarily wiggle her ass on the desk and grab his head with her hands and moan, and groan, and yell.

Finally, she pushed him away and jumped to her feet, wobbling a bit. "Christ, Tag, I can't take any more! Even though I want more!" She laughed. He laughed, his face covered in shiny juices. He licked his lips. She bent over and kissed him, a long kiss, with tongues flashing. He could taste his own cum. It now mixed with the taste of her pussy juices. They finally broke from the kiss.

"Yummy cummy, my dear Luce. Yummy cummy for sure!" He licked his lips again and said, "Did you enjoy that, love? The way I eat you? Or do I need to work on my overall technique?" He shammed a quizzical look. "Eh?"

She pulled down her mini skirt and crossed the room to get her blouse. Over her shoulder, she said, "Listen, Mr. Boneher-and-suck-her-cunt-dry, if your technique gets any better, I'll need the paramedics!"

He laughed and proceeded to get dressed. Their wonderful session was over. He filled Lucy in on the new job. The free suite and all the other included amenities. She had a question.

"What about me, Mr. Boneher-nice-and-hard-and-tell-her-zip?"

"Oh, that's right. I didn't tell you. You, my hot tamale puss, are part of my contract, so you go where I go. Capish?" He smiled. "If you want to, that is, at almost double the salary I don't pay you."

"Capish. And I want to, at almost twice the salary I'm not getting now. And It'll be nice fucking you in a real bed for a change. I assume you'll have a real bed, won't you?" He nodded. "Good. And maybe you'll let me watch you fuck all those rich and married hotel broads. Huh? Can I? Can I?"

He laughed. "Well, Luce, you know the old saying, 'Don't shit where you eat!' So I might not be doing too much rich, married lady canoodling. Don't wanna fuck up a good gig up, now do I?" He paused. "Fuck! Who am I kidding?" He laughed. Lucy giggled.

"Yeah, Tag," she said. "We both know you. Real well. But can I watch?"

"You'd like that?"

"Yeah, I'd like to watch a rich bitch put it to you. It would turn me on a lot. And, who knows? I just might let my bi-curious side show."

"Shit, Lu, you and your roommate, Brenda, have been eating each other's pussies for years now! Bi-curious side! My ass side!"

"Who told you that adulterated shit?" Her eyes had widened.

"You did, dummy, when you got drunk at the last New Year's Eve party. Remember? That was the one, and so far, only time I did you and Brenda at the same time. I saw you, girl, eat her out like a champ! And Vice versa."

"I plead the fifth, Mr. Boneher-and-fuck-her-roomie!" She giggled.

"Well, I rest my case, old gal. Anyway, why don't you get this place all prepped up for my big time move. You know, our so-called files and such. I start the new job in two weeks, so we have plenty of time, but you know me, I don't like leaving it all until the last minute." Lucy nodded. He went on.

"Now, I've gotta go and sell my car so I can pay you your back slave wages. Might as well start with a clean slate, eh?" She nodded again.

Tag knew she didn't need the money. Her daddy gave her a living allowance of $35,000 a year, just for being his adorable daughter, and gave her free rent in one of the many apartment building he owned. She also had a battery of charge cards without a limit restricting any of them. Name a store, she had a card, or two.

No, Lucy Fern didn't need the money. What she needed was now nestling restfully in between his legs. Along with its two best pals, Ike and Mike. And he, in a most gentlemanly manner, would never, ever dream of making her pay for it. Unless, of course, she insisted. Nah, he thought, not even then. Then again! Nah.

He went to her and put his arms around her. He gave her a juicy, sloppy French kiss, his tongue tasting his own cum again. He knew that if he came back in a few hours, that cum taste would still be there. Lucy had told him she wouldn't drink anything, even water, as she liked to hold onto the cum taste for as long as humanly possible.

She loved feeling the salty tickle in her throat every time she swallowed saliva. She also told him that there were many times when she would get so turned on by that unbelievable effect, she just had to wank off right there at her little desk. While picturing his big, hairy, large-headed cock. Now and then, Tag had tried to catch her at it, but she was always a step ( a finger?) ahead of him.

Tag broke the kiss, gave her ass cheeks a squeeze with both hands, and said, "See ya later, kid." He winked at her and headed for the locked front door.

At the door, he turned to her and said, "Lock it behind, Sweetie. Loonies abound in these times, you know." She nodded and mumbled a quiet 'Sure' as she went toward her desk. She opened the desk's center drawer and took something out.

Just before he closed the door behind him, he took one last look at the beautiful redhead who had just given him one great sucking. She was coming over to lock up, a white 12" vibrator in her hand and a smile on her face.