Chapter One

The ruggedly handsome and physically fit six-foot-four man was celebrating a little too much at the bar. Really, he had been drinking since three that afternoon. Between the misery and the birthday, he had enough reasons that night. He met a little red-haired gal with a nice pair of tits and a curvy ass. They had been dancing and rubbing on each other for about an hour, her nipples pushing through her tee shirt and his hard dick pressing against his jeans.

He whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

She instead, dragged him to the bathroom and dropped to her knees. She had his zipper down and his cock out before he could even think of objecting. She immediately engulfed his dick. She took it all the way to the balls. Deep-throating it each time, she would go down and licking the head when she came up.

She would lick his balls at the bottom while it was in her throat like they do in pornos. Someone started through the door and he slapped it closed and leaned against it. He yelled, “Give me a fucking minute!” He was absolutely enjoying his birthday now.

She kept right on sucking until he felt the tingle in his balls. He made her stop, stood her up and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her short skirt and saw the most delicious looking tanned ass with no panties. There was no way he would cum in this chick. He didn’t even get her name. These dirty little military town bitches could trap you in a heartbeat. He rolled on the condom, put his hard cock against her wet pussy and entered it. Balls deep on the first plunge.

She grunted, “Ungh. Oh fuck. Fuck me, dude. Fuck me hard.”

He proceeded to plow this hot number for all he had. He was fucking this tiny girl so hard he thought he might break her, but she kept on asking for it harder.

She almost yelled, “I am so glad you can actually use that monster. Fuck me, big boy. Give it to me harder. You can’t hurt me you fucker. Fuck my pussy.”

Finally, after a few more minutes of punishing her pussy and smacking her ass like she stole his rent, he pulled out, took off the condom and blew his huge load all over her ass.

“There you go. Oh yeah. You can have that, you little slut,” as he pulled her skirt down over his load before she had a chance to complain. He threw the condom in the trash can, pulled up his jeans and smacked her ass once more before walking out the door. He still didn’t get her name. He didn’t much care.

He’d have left his load in her, but he had been watching her for weeks and had seen her do the same thing with a few other guys in the past few weeks. With Langley Air Force Base just around the corner, he figured she either liked to fuck, which was fine with him, or was trying to get some pilot or airman trapped for a meal ticket. Either way, there was not a fucking chance in hell he was going to get snared in a fucking trap.

He went back to his apartment after fucking that no-name chick and drinking himself into a stupor. He was thirty-nine years old today, at least he had a reasonable excuse for his debauchery this time. He went to bed in his clothes, again. He smelled of whiskey, cigarettes and white trash pussy. It was almost glorious in its own disgusting way.

Chapter Two

At four-twenty-fucking-three AM he woke up to a ringing phone. The ominous ringtone he assigned to the company so, when he heard it said, “Clear your head you fuck. It’s important.”

“Baker here."

He listened to the caller.

“I understand. Right away. I can be there in thirty.”

He got his ass up, washed his face, changed and drove the ten miles to Langley. Along the way, he grabbed the cordless razor from the console and used it. He sprayed on the “shower in a can” he kept in the console for just such an occasion. He made his way through the security gate and into the parking garage.

He made his way to sub-level three where his section worked. Steven Baker had been with the CIA domestic threat section for the last six years of his seventeen-year career. They were running a joint task force with The Federal Protective Service. They protect and investigate crimes against Federal buildings, assets and government interests.

They fall under the umbrella of The Department of Homeland Security in assessing just how dangerous the domestic militia groups and country boy “hunting” clubs were. Some of the country boy clubs were worse than the militia groups, at least the militia had a semblance authoritarian structure. The country boys would just kowtow to the biggest and baddest fucker in the group.

This time, they were investigating a smaller militia group in southern Indiana just north of Evansville, about four and a half hours South of his childhood home in Fort Wayne. They had been watching them closely for the past eleven months. The Americans For the Protection Of The People, AFPOP for short, mostly did harmless stuff, but on occasion, they would shoot a meth dealer who caused a kid to get hooked or disappear some pimp-like asshole. Basically, they helped local law enforcement with the undesirables they couldn’t gather enough evidence on, they had a loose “I’ll scratch your back, you scratch mine” deal with the local sheriff.

More recently they had been posting serious anti-government and anti-immigration rhetoric on social media and their own web page with more violent leanings and calls to fight. They were threatening violence on the Arab population and any who didn’t look like or believe like them.

This morning’s emergency meeting had been called because a division on Homeland had lost contact with a deep cover agent they had inserted about nine months ago. She had gone silent before for a few days at a time, but it had been two weeks and she had not responded to any attempts made by her handler to communicate with her. Everyone in the investigative team was getting worried.

Baker was just being told of this undercover operative.  He didn’t know they had any of their own people on the inside, they had been making do with what they could get from a couple of locals who were fed up with the group’s leadership and tactics. He was livid.

“How can you keep this from me? I am your liaison with the agency. Don’t you think this was pertinent information for us to have?” He was exasperated. “How the hell am I supposed to run an investigation when I don’t know all the players on our side?”

“We are very sorry, Agent Baker,” he heard through the speakerphone on the conference table. “We have been in contact with your senior station chief for about four weeks trying to figure out how to loop you guys in without a scene like this.”

“Well, dammit. Okay.  I guess more yelling won’t do any good at this point. What can I do to help?” asked Baker.

He was told that agent codename “Delilah”, had inserted herself with a mid-level lieutenant, Arvin Jameson, by massaging his ego and fawning over him in a local bar over a few weeks last summer. Being late spring currently, things were picking up around the compound and she had not communicated with anyone at FPS.

He was asked to get his stuff together and make the trip out to Evansville to work in the field with the local FPS personnel.

Chapter Three

“Why the fuck are they sending me in. I haven’t been in the field for two years. I might not be the best asshole for this particular job, Jack.”

Jack told him, “I know Steve, I am aware of your field status. Your quals are up to date and I know you stay up on your fitness. Well, you are the best person for the job. Just read yourself in on the plane and meet with Stephanie Proctor when you get there. She is the agent in charge of the shit show that went down. Be fucking nice. She didn’t make the decision to leave you out of the loop. That was done here in D.C.”

“Alright, I’ll be nice. I can’t believe those fuckers.”

“Easy there big boy. Focus on the task. We can’t do anything about the idiots, but we can get this lady back where she belongs,” said Jack. “Oh, try to take it easy on the bottle while you are there. I’d hate to have that be the mistake that fucks you.”

“You’re right. I do need to slow down. Since Becky left, I’ve been fucking everything in a skirt and drinking anything put in front of me,” said Steve as he sniffed the air. “Oh hell. That reminds me, I need a fucking shower. When am I in the air?”

“You’ve got three hours to get to the airfield. You should be in the air by noon and on the ground a little before four PM local time. This packet has all your travel information. The case file from FPS should be on the plane when you get there. Go get your shit packed and head over. With the mid-morning traffic, you should get there on time,” said Jack.

“Well, fuck. I was hoping to take that shower and get over to that little redhead's house from Tuesday night. I don’t think I can do her justice in what little time I’d have today. She lives all the way down in Arlington. Fuck, she can give a blow job that will shame any porn star and she loves the taste of her own pussy. She’ll fuck and suck rotating back and forth so she can taste herself. Goddamit, I hope I have time for some sluts in Evansville.”

Jack said, “What the fuck, man? You need to focus on the job. That blow job queen and those sluts can wait a few days. Dammit, son, get your head in the game. However, if you want to give me her information, I can ‘check’ on her for you.”

“Nice try, amigo, but I’m keeping this one for myself. Why don’t you call the blonde we tag teamed last week? I seem to remember her begging you to ass fuck her before the night was out.”

“Good call. She is a hot number. Sarah, Sandra? What the fuck was her name?”

“How the fuck have you made it so far with a memory like that? It’s Jodie, dipshit, Jodie Sanderson. Geesh, if I wasn’t here, what would you do? You probably lost her number so, I’ll text it to you in a before take-off,” said Baker as he walked out of Jack’s office, shaking his head and smiling.

Chapter Four

Jack Daughtry and Steve were the best of friends, well as much as they could be as spooks. They had gone through “The Farm”, the CIA training grounds at the same time. They were roommates and Jack was the one who talked Steve into staying when he wanted to quit after his father died. He asked him what his father would have wanted him to do and told him if he quit then there was no reason for him to stay either. With that, it was settled. They finished their training. Both graduated in the top three of their class.

Only one person finished ahead of them. The female trainee whose quarters were across the hall from theirs, she was the third in their little trio, Patrice Andrews. She was an exemplary trainee and turned into a top-notch agent. The best in the class and she had class too.

A beautiful, five-foot-seven brunette with legs that went on for days and an ass you could rub all night. Her breasts were about a thirty-six c-cup and very firm. She was very smart and could sing like a nightingale, but when she was pissed, she could unleash hell. She once took down a guy twice her size with a choke hold and didn’t skip a beat of conversation.

“Next time you grab an ass, you’d better make sure it won’t grab you back, asshole,” she kissed him on the back of the head, “Good night, Groper McCreepypants.” He went out like a light.

She was a badass and built like a brick house. They were three peas in a pod, did everything together when off duty. She went into the field working out of Chicago.

Jack had been relegated to the Middle East desk sorting through communique and other Al Qaeda-type bullshit and Steve was doing fieldwork in the Eastern Bloc. All had excelled in their respective fields, gaining commendations and promotions and would see each other on occasion in D.C. when they could. Patrice had been absent for far too long.

When Jack was selected seven years ago to head the task force, Steve was the first name he put on his list. He knew Steve was looking to stay in the States more and this was perfect. There was little to no field work and only rare trips out of the country. Enough to keep him busy, but not so much that he was looking over his shoulder all the time. He only had to finish a job in the Ukraine that would, hopefully, only take a few months. Some arms dealer was using a humanitarian aid NGO as a front to move explosives and small arms out of Russia through Ukraine, Romania and into Serbia.

It took almost a year to clean out the nest of cock suckers in Serbia and Russia, but it wasn’t all bad. Steve always remembered the Russian girl he met in Volgograd was eager to please. The grace Val used to give him every ounce of pleasure was remarkable.

That story will come a bit later.