Vixen cuddled in the dean's arms, sniveling and purring. He had pleasured her deeply with his tongue and then anointed her savaged vulva with soothing ointment, paying special attention to her bruised veneris mons and enlarged labia. Vixen wriggled and spread herself open for him as he made tutting sounds with his tongue.

"Who did this to you?" asked the dean, severely disappointed that his usual Friday sex partner was in no condition for their games. His cock was rock hard and well down his leg, and he knew he would have to relieve himself soon.

Vixen shook her head. "After poor Taylor shot himself, my memory is all fuzzy until I got back on campus. I don't even remember driving home from New York."

"You must have been drugged."

Vixen nodded as his grease-covered fingers entered her sensitive passage. She did a series of Kegel exercises and choked back a gasp as the pain struck when she squeezed.

"Do you ever recall taking one of the date rape drugs before, perhaps when you were younger?"

"Maybe once, back in high school." She sniffed. "I went to this party and then there was talk all over school that six boys had fucked me. I didn't remember any of it. I was in 7th grade I think."

The dean nodded and continued his gentle stroking along her slit and over her clitoral hood. Vixen shuddered and gnashed her teeth. "That hurt?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Do you understand what Taylor did, what he got into?"

"No," the man said, slipping two fingers slowly up into her. "He was already rich. His car cost more than my home."

"They were a greedy bunch. I met them at a Giants game, some of them. All they talked about was money, money and planes, money and yachts, gambling, girls, jewelry, Las Vegas. That's what I heard. That and sex, sex, sex."

"Yes. Two of his associates have disappeared, and you probably are going to be called back and asked some questions." He kissed her neck and lips. "Just tell the truth, the absolute truth." He sighed. "It's another Wall Street scandal I guess."

Vixen stretched and as her leg rubbed his, she became aware of his arousal. She wiggled down, opened his fly, fished out his long rod, lapped its head until her groaned and then gobbled it into her mouth, almost all of it.

Her jaw and the corners of her mouth were still sore, but she did good job on the dean's overheated member, bobbing her head up and down and raking him now and then with her front teeth. She tickled his balls and then gently squeezed his scrotum, and he climaxed, pumping his semen into the girl's mouth and down her gulping throat. She licked him off and pulled away, dressed and kissed the smiling man as he lay back on his leather couch.

"Got to go to work," she said to his smiling face. "All those little buggers are expecting me." She pulled her sweater down over her jutting breasts, still excited from fellatio.

As she crossed the campus toward the day-care center, Vixen searched her muddled memory again and once more saw the bright lights behind small TV cameras but could not figure out their meaning.

As she stepped off the curb to cross the street, a black Ford Explorer screeched to a halt in front of her, a man jumped out of the back door, grabbed the girl, tossed her inside, jumped atop her and slammed the door. The heavy SVU speed away as Vixen struggled within its blacked out windows.

The man sitting on the legs smacked her face back and forth. "Stop that," he yelled at her. "We don't want to hurt you."

"Let me go," she yelled, beating at him with both fists.

He elbowed her in the belly and put his wrist across her neck, pressing down hard. "Knock it off, bitch. Behave yourself or you won't see another sunrise."

She looked up into the snarling face above her and recognized one of Taylor Wilkins' partners in the computer security fraud. She closed her mouth and took a deep breath.

"That's better," he said, pushing her legs away. "Now put on your seat belt and be a good girl."

"Where are we going? I'm supposed to be at work. They'll miss me."

"You hear that?" the man beside her said to the driver.

"Too damn bad," he replied, looking up in the mirror. "Might be a job vacancy there tomorrow."

The man in the back seat laughed as Vixen pushed the belt into the buckle with a click. "You're Wilkins' whore, right?"

Vixen bit her lip.

"Well? He paid you didn't he?"

She nodded although he had never paid her, not even for the first weekend so 'he owed her' would have been more accurate. She wasn't going to quibble.

"Remember me?" the man asked, "At the game, up in the box?"

Vixen nodded.

"Robby and me, that's him up front, we want to know what Wilkins' told you about the business and what you can tell the cops."

Vixen looked at him slantwise and nodded again.

"You read the papers?"

"Yes," the girl said. "You stole a lot of money."

The man snorted. "Our company failed. It happens. The damn Finns, those boys ate our breakfast, lunch and dinner."

"But you got rich, you and Robby, didn't you? You guys and some others."

The man smiled. "We got paid and put some away, sold our options, yep."

"What's the stock worth now?" the girl asked. "It was twenty-two a share, right?"

"It isn't being traded," he said. "Probably fifty cents, maybe less."

"So where did all the money go?"

The man leaned back in his seat and smiled. "This is going to be fun," he said loudly.

The driver nodded.

Vixen didn't recognize where they were after they left the Parkway and when they crossed a bridge asked.

"Wildwood, sweetie," the driver said. "Cape May's just down a road a ways. Wildwood's for us poor folks."

The man sitting beside Vixen laughed. "Wait'll you see his boat."

"This is Mud Creek," the driver said, pulling into a parking lot. "We'll walk to the marina."

"And I'll hold your hand," said the man beside her with a nasty smile.

"You're Pitt, Joe Pitt, right?" Vixen said.

The big man nodded, and they followed the driver to a huge, white motor launch and climbed aboard. Robby tossed off the lines, started the engines and backed away from the dock while Joe took Vixen down to the luxurious cabin and locked her in. Vixen walked around and as she did she recalled that the man he called Robby, the one who owned this yacht, was the fellow who asked her for a blowjob at the Giants game and then offered her five thousand to do it.