"Got one for you," the familiar voice said, I pushed the girl clinging to my legs off the side of the bed and tossed her clothes at her as I crossed the room to use the secure phone. She whimpered, licking her lips. I couldn't believe she wanted more.
"Go on," I said as she crawled across the floor, still naked, my spend leaking from her young quim and smeared across her mouth, begging with her eyes. The stupid cow was married to a friend of mine, and they had only been wed a year or so. I danced at her wedding.
"Girl's gone, good looker, young," said the voice. "Not sure if she was snatched but probably. She's called Glory, Gloria something I guess, Vanderhoff. He's State, deputy undersec, a prick, and her mother's CIA, Lebanese more or less, a translator and minor expert on Arab women's affairs, such as they are."
"Send me a picture," I said as the moaning young woman climbed up my legs and licked the head of my dangling prick, her big tits rubbing on my knees, fat nipples jutting.
"Please, please," the luscious girl moaned as she mouthed my glans.
"Already have. No budget yet so figure it's unlimited."
She got my cockhead in her mouth, and I raked my fingers through her platinum hair, lifting her chin so I could plunge deeper. "I assume the details are with the photo."
"Right," he said. "They want her back, alive." The phone went dead.
I let the girl suck until I was hard again and then I kicked her away, told her to get up on all fours, ignored her mewling and savaged her from the back, coming quickly and remorselessly. I pulled loose with a sucking plop, went to my office and clicked on the computer while I dressed, ignoring the moaning from the other room.
The young girl who had disappeared was indeed a beauty, dark haired, almond eyed and for her age, voluptuous. Five-eight and a hundred twenty-five said the data. Then I had a list of friends and addresses plus a convent school name and location, a very expensive one where she was a senior. She didn't have a driver's license which made things easier, I hoped. They lived in Spring Valley near AU which meant there were hundreds of young women in the neighborhood.
I stepped over the naked woman moaning on the floor of my bedroom with her hands between her long legs, said, "I'll be late, go home," and left. I called Roy on my cell as the elevator descended and told him where his wife was. All he said, was 'damn.' I guess there's no such thing as a nympho but his wife made that hard to believe.
Then I got very lucky. At the third place I visited, I heard laughter and splashing from the backyard and went around the house. Two girls and four or five boys, all mature adolescents, were playing and swimming in a big pool and dragging herself up out of the water and facing me as I stepped through the gate was Gloria in a bright yellow bikini, easily a nine on a ten scale, her bobbling globes barely covered and her nipples hard, cameltoe bulging.
I closed the gate and smiled at her. She was very easy to smile at what with her lush young body being practically bare. She didn't have much in the way of hips but did own a very shapely ass and a fine set of jugs, thirty-fours at least I estimated, hell of a rack on one so young.
I crossed the few yards between us and held out my hand. "Glory," I said, "they're worried about you." The other kids seemed stunned and gathered at the pool's other end. I really didn't think I looked that frightening, but I am kind of big.
She ignored my hand but nodded her head, found a bright shirt and waved goodbye to her friends. "Don't you have some clothes?" I asked as she followed me out to my car barefoot.
"Threw 'em away. Joe said they had tags, cleaning tags or something." She sniffed. "He was going to take me to Canada tonight."
"You running away?" I asked.
She nodded. "From him. I won't go back."
I drove out toward the river and pulled into one of the parking areas along the canal.
"OK," I said, turning in the seat and trying not to admire her high, firm breasts and long, tanned legs, "Tell me. I'll listen, but they do want you back."
"He does anyhow, my father. He's arranged a marriage with a foul man, a drug lord or something. I've seen him once, atan embassy party."
"You mother know about this?"
She nodded and sniffed. "I think so. She's afraid of him."
"I can't date, can't go to a game or dances, not even a movie. Every Saturday night he come into my bedroom and makes me let him examine my hymen. He says if I lose it, he'll kill me, that I have to stay a virgin until I marry Fauyd. That's the man's name, Something ben Fauyd. I'll be eighteen in two months."
"He checks your hymen?" I said. "You mean he looks?"
"He pokes, with his forefinger." She looked away.
"Does you mother know?"
She shook her head.
"OK," I said, "I'll take you back to my place, and we'll call your mother to come fetch you. How's that. Then we can chat. You're an American citizen, right?"
"Then you have some rights," I said and gave her my good smile.
So I drove back to my place and when I opened the door, I knew Roy had come and collected his slut of a wife. Her smell was almost gone. I got the girl a glass of lemonade and myself a beer and then I called her mother at home. She answered on the first ring. I told her who I was and that I had been ordered to look for her daughter. "Is your husband home?" I asked.
When she said no, I briefly wondered if the phone was tapped since she worked for the company but went on and told her that Gloria was with me and that we wanted to see her, both of us. She gave a strangled cry and got my address.
Ten minutes later, the girl's father got to my door, and he was not alone. The two goons with him looked Secret Service, dark suits and rep ties, but I doubted that they were. State, I knew, hired contractors.
"Where's my fucking daughter?" was how he greeted me when I answered his heavy knock. I slammed the door in his face and went and got my Sig while he pounded on the metal door. I screwed on the long SD silencer and held it down at my side.
I opened the door and said, "Who are you?" standing squarely in the way. The goons made faces but stood back.
"Vanderhoff," he said, his face crimson, "J. Walter Vanderhoff, undersecretary of state. Where's my daughter?"
"Deputy under secretary," I said. "Let me see your ID."
I pulled out his laminated ID card on its cord and I examined it, looking up in his face a couple of times. I handed it back and stepped aside.
"Go get her," he said loudly as the two men quickly entered behind him, pushing me aside. I raised my big pistol with its huge silencer, yelled, "Stop!" and then said, "Sit on the floor and give me your guns." One lunged at me and my pistol coughed and his knee exploded. He fell on his face, clawing at the floor tiles. The other one pulled his Glock from under his shoulder, and I shot him squarely in the middle of his chest. He staggered back from the slug's blow and slid down the wall, looking surprised, eyes glassy.
The man on the floor was moaning so I kicked him in the side of the head, and he was quiet after his feet jerked a couple of times. "Go in and sit down," I said to the girl's father who was looking a bit green. I hoped he wasn't going to throw up since my old rug was quite valuable.
.... There is more of this story ...