Chapter 2

Thursday April 20

Mr. Reiser’s lawyer did, in fact, call the head of the agency, Maurice. He says to keep going but play it low-key. They can’t sue over asking questions, but we don’t want to antagonize people needlessly.

I left a voicemail for Laurel’s brother, Hunter. I haven’t heard back.

I got in touch with another one of Laurel’s lovers by phone. Apparently, right after Christmas, she stopped seeing all of her guys in Albuquerque, and around the beginning of February, her phone number and email address stopped working. He, too, described Laurel as the most beautiful girl in the world: an angel’s face, flaming red hair, a curvy body with plump, squeezable breasts. When I gave him the link to a picture of her, he said that it was a horrible picture. He said that in bed, she inspires him to be more than he ever thought he was capable of.

The Internet hasn’t been very helpful in finding Imogen Kent: too many people by that name posting many useless details and too few useful ones.

If I can’t come up with something soon, I’m going to have to drive to Denver to talk to Hunter face-to-face. If he can get me to Laurel or Imogen, that will be something.

I’m at a rest stop on the road to Denver.

The only explanation I can think of for Eric’s prodigious sexual performance is drugs. I’ve seen porn of guys who can come two or three times without needing a break, but nothing like that. And I’m sorry - I don’t care how beautiful she is in person or how tight her vagina is, no girl can “inspire” a guy that much. She must have been giving these guys something.

Nobody at my office has heard of any new sex drugs hitting the streets. I’m thinking maybe she’s testing something new and illegal for someone while they perfect it. Or, hell, maybe she invented it; maybe at age twenty, she’s a biochem savant. Maybe soon she’ll be feuding with other drug lords: surviving assassination attempts and putting out retaliatory hits.

It really is weird how much talk there is about her on the Internet. It’s even weirder that none of it makes any sense.

Friday April 21

Laurel’s brother Hunter tweeted from a sports bar last night at 8:30 PM. I was forty-five minutes away, so I drove straight there after changing into a flirty dress. I let my hair down and brushed it out, too - this was not a pigtails dress.

He was sitting at the bar watching baseball with an empty mug in front of him. I sat down next to him and ordered us both beers.

“Hi,” I said.

He checked me out - no subtlety to it - before responding. “Hey.” He seemed interested.

“I’m Lexi. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”

“About my sister, right?” He said, taking a drink. “Dad said you might be coming around. Didn’t say you were hot.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” I told him with a flirty head tilt. “I’m investigating a missing person. Do you recognize either of these two?” I pulled up pictures of Eldon and Silvia on my tablet and slid it over to him. He shook his head.

“I have reason to believe that your sister might know something about them. Or Imogen Kent might. She’s a friend of yours, isn’t she?”

He scoffed. “Used to be.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“My fucking sister happened!” He took a long drink. “Love of my life. I brought her home for the holidays to meet the family, but then Laurel cast a love spell on her and stole her away from me. I had to listen to them fucking, night after night, through stupidly thin walls.”

“Oof. That’s rough,” I said with genuine empathy.

I let him drink for a moment before pressing. “I get that it’s painful, but can you put me in touch with the two of them?”

He checked me out again. He put his hand on my thigh and squeezed quite presumptuously. “How good are you? Do you know any sex magic?”

I laughed uncertainly. “What, like escaping from handcuffs?”

He rolled his eyes. “You can drop the dumb act. If you’re looking for my sister we both know why: you want to learn her cock-sucking oracle technique. Fine, whatever. The standard price applies: an evening of sex. Good sex.”

“Do you want to finish that beer, or should we go to your place now?” Sure, he kind of struck me as a jerk, but I guess family can bring out the worst in people. At least he was a good-looking jerk. And it’s not like I haven’t whored myself out for intel before.

I followed him back to the apartment where he lives alone. I guess his family must be pretty well-off for an art student to have a place like that.

Once we had removed our jackets, I slipped up behind him and put my hands all over him. But then he reversed it, throwing my glasses onto the couch, moving behind me, and then shoving a hand down the front of my dress to feel me up. For good measure, he grabbed my pussy with his other hand. I purred appreciatively.

“Gotta say, you fill out this dress well,” he told me, squeezing my breast and pulling my hips into his bulging pants. “That was a smart choice.”

“Thank you,” I responded. I reached back to rub his package with my hand. “It seems that you fill out your jeans pretty nicely yourself.”

He began to groan and soon forgot what his hands were doing, so I turned around and got down on my knees to get him properly warmed up. His cock-head had a good film of pre-come on it, so I made a show of licking it clean using every possible angle. Then I struck like a cobra, gobbling the whole cock down at once. I held on tightly, keeping him all the way down while gurgling and looking up into his eyes. He let out a long groan.

I came up for air, licking him some more while I talked. “No need to rush a decision, but you might want to think about whether you want to use my mouth...?” I gave his crown an ice cream cone kiss. When I pulled away, a string of spit connected us for a moment. “Or my tits...?” I worked my hands on his slobbery-wet unit and pointed the tip into my cleavage, just below my cross pendant. “Or my pussy...?” I pulled up my dress enough to make a show of rubbing my panties. “Or my ass?”

I went deep on his cock for a few more strokes but then he stepped back and took my hand. “Come on,” he said.

In the bedroom, he enjoyed taking me out of my dress and then peeling my panties. I got on the bed while he scrambled out of his clothes. He resisted the condom idea at first but eventually gave in. After a little wrestling, we ended up both upright on our knees with him giving it to me from behind. He controlled the pace but our bodies moved in unison as he slowly thrust his cock into me, holding my arms behind my back.

“What did you say your name was?” He let go of my arms and instead squeezed my breasts roughly while breathing on my neck.

“Lexi ... Ugh! Nice to ... meet you!” Now that my hands were free, I grabbed my pussy and started rubbing my clit, moaning as the pressure built inside me.

I started to come. He picked up pace, but then we toppled forward. Fine by me. He stayed on top of me and put it back in, now fucking my pussy energetically.

“God, yes! I love prone-bone!” I enthused.

His arm moved in front of my face and then around my neck. He put me in a headlock. He pulled back, making me lift my head and arch my back. It was surprising more than alarming.

“You’re going to let go if I tap, right?”

“Yeah. Of course,” he answered condescendingly as if it were a stupid question.

I don’t know if his arm around my neck was actually restricting blood flow to my brain or if it was just the novelty of being restrained in a brand new way, but I did feel a warm euphoria that turned into a low-intensity whole-body orgasm. I gasped a lot while it was happening, which seemed to please him.

He let me go, shoved a pillow under my hips, and hammered my pussy kneeling upright on my legs. Pretty soon, he finished.

“So - about your those addresses...,” I said after he came back from the bathroom.

“Later. We’re not done yet,” he said. I was cool with that as long as we got to it eventually. I shrugged agreeably. I sat up on the bed and checked my email on my phone. “So a lot of girls come looking for Laurel? Do you fuck all of them?”