Girlfriend Lease

Monday May 29

I'm writing this while lying naked on the living room floor of the Atlanta condo that's going to be my home for the next few months. My boyfriend, whom I had never met before tonight, is asleep in the bedroom. He's also naked.

Just call me "Lexi Green, undercover whore"! But, you know, not in front of my parents.

I guess I'm not officially a whore yet - undercover or otherwise: we haven't had sex yet. As far as Paul is concerned, he has hired me to be his girlfriend for the next few months while he does business in an unfamiliar town. That means I'm his arm-candy at social events, a sex partner whenever he's revved-up, and a supportive listener when he needs to unwind. I assume I'll end up doing some cooking and laundry, too.

The deeper truth is that I was hired to be a confidential informant for the FBI. The "concierge service" that finds Paul his girls - yeah, there have been others - worked with the FBI to place me with him, so that I can report on the people he does business with. I've done a few freelance jobs for a private investigator back home, and he recommended me since I've got some experience, I've got the college-girl-next-door look, and I'm not married or prude.

I admit that I had stressed myself out thinking Paul would want to have sex as soon as he arrived, but that didn't happen. It seems he had had an exhausting day traveling. His flight was from Johannesburg and there were many delays. When he finally did arrive home, he asked me to undress and lie with him while he fell asleep, but that took no time at all.

So anyway, here I am trying to calm down. I wish I had some whiskey or wine to drink, but I only arrived at the condo earlier today and the bar wasn't stocked. I guess I'll go shopping tomorrow while Paul is at work. I turned twenty-one this month, so this will be my first time buying alcohol.

Wish me luck!

Tuesday May 30

I only got a few words with Paul this morning before he had to go to work, but I sent him off with a kiss and encouraging words, so I'm playing my part. He's going to be home early in the evening and we'll have a "date" to get to know each other. I'm relieved that that's the plan.

I did go shopping. This condo is in a weird planned community that's laid out like a college campus: there are shops, restaurants, housing, and office buildings, all on the same grounds full of grassy walkways. I guess the idea is to have everything you need most days all within walking distance. Kinda neat.

So I bought the groceries a couple buildings down and enjoyed a walk in the lovely summer sun. I don't have enough to cook any proper meals, but we'll be good for snacks, sandwiches and beverages for a day or two, while I figure out what Paul likes. The concierge agency gave me a credit card for ordinary expenses, so it doesn't come out of my pocket.

Regular grocery stores aren't allowed to sell hard liquor here, so I'll have to make a trip off campus later today. I called Penny, my contact at the agency, to approve the purchase and to ask if she knew what Paul likes. She said he mostly drinks beer, but sometimes likes whiskey sours. She says I should get a good selection, though, because we'll probably be entertaining at the condo eventually.

Penny is a woman in her early thirties. I'm supposed to call her to approve unusual charges, but also for questions about how to behave and what Paul likes. She took me clothes shopping when I first arrived two days ago: OMG, so many silk panties! - and she keeps talking about doing things to "encourage the fantasy", like walking around wearing a towel after a shower for an unnecessarily long time. I'm guessing that she was an "escort" when she was younger like I'm pretending to be now. She's still amazingly beautiful and stylish, so she probably could still do it. I'll have to ask her some time once we're more comfortable with each other.

So my plan for the rest of the day is to take an Uber to a "package" store - that's what they call liquor stores here - to buy a bunch of booze. After that I guess I'll work on my programming project until Paul gets home. After that? Who knows.

Okay, well, it's 11:30 now and Paul is asleep. We did it.

He didn't get home before dinner like he had said he would. At like 7:45 he texted and said he'd be late, and that I shouldn't wait for him for dinner.

He got home at about 10:00. He was clearly tired, but we sat for a while on the couch talking. It was pretty much just meaningless small talk. I gather he was doing it for my benefit. I made sure to sit close to him and touch his arm in a familiar way like a devoted girlfriend should.

Then, after a few minutes, he said, "Let's go to bed," and there was no doubt in my mind what he meant by that.

So then we were in the bedroom, and he took off my clothes. That part was important to him - I could tell from the look on his face as he undid the buttons on my blouse and skirt. But then he didn't spend much time on my bra or panties, which struck me as strange since they're so fancy. Once I was completely nude he sort of spun me onto the bed, like a dance move, and then took off his own clothes.

Paul is a pretty decent looking dude, for middle-aged. Curly black hair, kind of a big nose, high cheek bones. Fit. And he's polite.

We made out on the bed for a while. Half of me was into it. I knew that I had a role to play. I spent a few months as a waitress, so I know about customer service: I know how to make forced enthusiasm look natural. But half of my brain couldn't believe that I had actually put myself in this position. The first time he reached between my legs, I literally thought, "I barely know him."

Still, my body responded to his encouragement - and his certainly did to mine - so before too long, he propped me up on my hands and knees. Despite knowing exactly what was going to happen, I was surprised when I felt him enter me. His hands on my hips felt good. His dick in my pussy felt good. His hips smacking my ass felt good. But it was just so surreal.

Paul starting moaning right away while we did it, which I guess clued me about how quickly it was going to go. "Oh, you're so beautiful," he said once. I wondered how long it had been since he'd been with a woman - but it's not like I could ask.

I made sure I started moaning too. It wasn't a lie. I just usually don't moan until I'm further along. But I was having enjoyable sex, and it was important that he knew that. I muttered, "Oh, Paul," a few times, too.

After probably three minutes Paul's moans took on some urgency. He was obviously going to come very soon. And I guess some animal part of my brain started to congratulate itself or something: You know, "Mission accomplished - you will now receive semen in your womb from a strong healthy man." But to my surprise, he pulled out at the last second, and came on my back.

At first I didn't know what to do. Had I done something wrong? Should I get up? How do I move without spilling his come onto the bed? I kinda froze.

But then he said, "Hold tight - let me clean you up," so I stayed there on my hands and knees until Paul came back from the bathroom with a warm wet towel and cleaned his load off my back.

We held each other, naked, while he fell asleep. I wasn't tired yet, so I came out to the living room to write this.

I guess I've got a lot of questions. Is it always going to be that short with him? If so, will he be upset if I don't come? And why didn't he come in my pussy? For as much as he's paying, he surely must know that he's entitled to. I guess being an undercover whore is more complicated than I expected.

Wednesday May 31

I'm so tired. I can't believe I forgot to buy coffee. I'm writing this from the coffee shop two buildings down from our condo.

I haven't really spent the night in bed with many people: two boyfriends, two one night stands, and a couple platonic cases like visiting cousins when I was a kid. Maybe I'm just not good at "being" with people like that. I eventually got used to it with Miles. I didn't with Paris. And the hookups benefited from alcohol and sex-exhaustion. Anyway, both nights this week it has taken me forever to get to sleep, despite being tired. Hopefully I'll get used to it.

So, I figure I should make the situation clear: If someone had come to me and said, "How would you like a summer job as a live-in prostitute for a rich older guy?" I would have said fuck no. But that wasn't the offer.

Oliver is a private investigator that I've done a few jobs for in the recent past. He's kinda like my mentor. He knew that I dreamed of working for the FBI, but that I definitely couldn't pass the background check to become an agent. So when he heard through the grapevine that the FBI needed a college girl who can handle herself, he put us in touch. This is my best chance to get a foot in the door at the Bureau: my chance to meet people, impress them, and hopefully convince them to make an exception for me. It's a long-shot.

Liz Kostanski is the agent in charge of me. We had done some video calls, but Saturday was the first time I had met her face to face. She is exactly what I want to be when I grow up: she's so cool and in-charge. She's not a cop cliche, but I can see some of those characteristics in her: tough and funny. She's beautiful, too. She was wearing a sharp looking skirt suit like a fashion model, but there on her belt hung a badge and a holstered handgun.

We met in Daniel Reed's office. That's Penny's boss, the head of the concierge/pimp agency. He's in on the undercover operation, but Penny thinks I'm just a newbie escort.

I had to sign a ton of papers, of course: like acknowledging that I could be arrested if I told anyone about this investigation, and that it could theoretically be dangerous. And then there's the one saying that I have limited immunity from prostitution charges, since this is undercover work.

After we were done with all that, Penny took me shopping and for a makeover. A half year ago I was wearing my hair in a pixie-cut. It has grown out since then, but it's still fairly short. The stylist decided to go with curls, in my natural brown color, but with highlights.

I'm rambling.

I guess, after buying coffee, paper towels, and a shot glass, I'll spend the rest of the day writing code. I'm still contributing to IP-Morlock, an open-source suite of network tools, and I've done a couple quick fixes to one of the libraries on which it depends.

I wonder if Paul intends to keep coming on my back? Maybe I should buy some wet wipes.

There's someone on this coffee shop's WiFi who is running MySQL exposed to the network. No password on the root user either. There's no real data in there though - it looks like example stuff. They're probably a student. I should let them know that their data isn't secure.

Thursday June 1

Last night Paul did actually make it home in time for dinner. We went to a fancy steak place and got to know each other a bit. He seemed interested to hear about college and my part time programming job. I was mostly pretty honest, but of course, I left out the part about wanting to work for the FBI and my various personal investigations.

Paul is some sort of nebulous business guy. He says he puts people together who can satisfy each others' needs. That's about all I got out of it. He's obviously pretty rich.

After dinner he went into the home office to work on his computer for a while, and suggested that I keep myself busy until bed time. I chose a spot to lie on the floor using my computer where Paul was sure to see my butt. Then, of course, we went to bed and had sex.

If Paul were actually my boyfriend, I would be pushing for a little more experimentation in our sex lives, looking for a way that we can both enjoy it more. I don't have to come every time I have sex, of course, but it seems like we can do better than what we've done so far. But he's not my real boyfriend - he's my customer. If that's how he wants to do it, is it really my place to argue? I mean, a waitress doesn't ask a customer to change their order because she's tired of serving salads.

I decided that I need to subtly offer him alternatives, but leave it up to him. So when we were making out and it seemed like he was ready for sex, I lay on my back and opened my legs wide, giving him a come-hither look. He chuckled, knelt between my legs, kissed my pussy briefly, patted my thigh and said, "C'mon" and positioned me on my hands and knees again. As is our routine, he fucked me doggy-style, which was brief but nice, and then he came on my back. And as usually, he cleaned me up with a warm wet hand towel.

Don't get me wrong - I like doggy-style - so this morning I figured maybe there's a way I can make him last longer. After his morning shower as he was getting ready to brush his teeth, I snuck up behind him and started rubbing his chest.

"You think maybe you can be a little late this morning?" I asked seductively. Then I dropped to my knees and started teasing his cock with my lips. I figured if he ejaculated in the morning, maybe he'd last longer at night.

"I wish I could," Paul said, running his fingers through my hair. "We'll have more time to mess around on the weekend." Then he went back to his normal morning routine.

I remembered what Penny had said about walking around wearing a towel, so I made it a point to be freshly-showered and terrycloth-clad when he got home. I had to re-wet my hair three times, because he was later than he said he would be. He did smile when he saw me, and he kissed me, so I think I did it right. But then I had to get dressed for dinner out.

We had a nice meal at a seafood place. We got to know each other a little better. Then we came home, fucked doggy-style, he came on my back, and we went to bed. I snuck out to the living room after he fell asleep.

I'm still kinda turned-on. I think I might get myself off before going back to bed.

Sunday June 4

Paul and I went to a party last night. It was a formal thing, and he introduced me to all sorts of people. After we got home I discretely wrote down notes, that I will later give to the FBI.

When I was interviewing for this undercover job, I naturally asked what laws they thought Paul had broken, and whether he was dangerous. They weren't actually after Paul himself, Liz explained. They're after some guy he does business with, who travels in the same circles. It's very hard to get a warrant to spy on a US citizen directly, but very easy to get permission to spy on foreigners. They're trying to put together a model of which foreign nationals the target probably talks to so that they can spy on them, which will hopefully incriminate the target. Paul, I was assured, is polite, non-violent, and sexually plain.

The dress I wore to the party was one that Penny had picked out when when we went shopping together. It's elegant, but shows off my shape nicely. What I didn't expect when I talked to Penny was her insistence that I wear a thong. Any hint of panty lines would reflect badly on Paul. That seems silly, but whatever. I'd never worn a thong before tonight - they always looked like they'd be uncomfortable. Well guess what? It was uncomfortable.

Another issue was that I'm not allowed to wear my glasses around Paul, ever. When Daniel turned me over to Penny, the first thing she asked was why I wasn't wearing my contacts yet. I explained to her that I can't wear contacts - my face gets puffy and bloodshot. Penny didn't believe me, but after she took me to an optometrist she saw for herself. She said I would just have to get by without my glasses. I asked why nobody had mentioned it before, and she told me, "You're being paid to be arm candy - it should have been obvious."

I'm nearsighted, so here I was meeting all of these new people, but I couldn't actually make out any faces past eight feet. I hope Liz doesn't need a description of any of these people.

Anyway, half way through the party I decided to turn the thong thing from a problem to an opportunity. I took them off in the ladies' room and discretely handed them to Paul when I got him alone a minute later. "With all these pretty girls around, I want to be sure you remember who's coming home with you tonight," I whispered playfully. He seemed to appreciate gesture.

I wasn't the only college-aged girl there, by the way. At least two other old guys had "girlfriends" like me, although possibly slightly more legitimate.

Many of the non-trophy wives seemed to enjoy whispering about us young women and looking us over. They didn't hide it. They didn't seem contemptuous - just amused.

In the limo on the ride home, Paul was obviously pretty turned on, but all he did was kiss my hand. When we got to the condo it was straight into the bedroom.

Things were a little different this time. First of all, he allowed me to undress him. I kept telling him how sexy he looked in his suit, which was true.

The other new thing was a towel, tied around my waist, while we were doing it. I was on my hands and knees again, of course, but Paul was using this towel to pull me tight when he thrust into me. He rode me pleasantly vigorously. I couldn't see, but I imagined sometimes that he had one hand up in the air like rodeo cowboys do in the movies.

Maybe it was the glass of champaign that I had drunk, that helped me get into the mood. Maybe it was the two or three glasses that he had had that helped him last longer. Maybe it was the idea of being ridden like an animal. Whatever the cause, Paul made me come. I shouted, "Jesus, Paul, yes!" as it shook through me. I was barely done when he pulled out and ejaculated. Most of it landed on the towel instead of me.

Today we went to the golf course. I know nothing about golf. I assumed that I would just follow Paul from hole to hole and congratulate him whenever he looked proud. I think that's what Paul had in mind, too, at first, but we ran into two of the gossipy old women from the party last night and they insisted that I come have lunch with them instead. Paul said that was a good idea.

Lunch didn't start right away, but their game did. Just as soon as we all had our virgin pina coladas in hand, Lindsey began: "Well Alexis, you certainly are beautiful. Paul really has a knack for dating beautiful women, doesn't he?"

"Absolutely," Karen responded.

"What was that last one's name? Tasha?" Lindsey went on. "What ever happened to her? Do you know why they split up, Alexis?"

"No," I said. "Paul and I don't really talk about that sort of thing."

"Of course you don't," Karen said flatly.

"Well," Lindsey went on, "you have to tell us how you met!"

Obviously these women had suspicions about our relationship. Paul is more than twice my age, after all. I wanted to have some fun playing cat and mouse with them, but I kept my restraint: I didn't dare say anything that would reflect badly on Paul.

"We met through a friend," I told the ladies.

"Who would that be?" Karen asked. "Maybe we know them!"

Time to make something up. "Do you know Ashley Bishop?" I began. "I was interning for her and I accidentally answered a video call for her. It was Paul, and, well, he made an impression on me right away. Then a couple days later, Mrs. Bishop invited me to lunch with her, and Paul joined us, and well, things progressed from there." I tried to channel memories from the starts of my real relationships to sell it.

"Well isn't that a meet cute," Karen said with a smirk.

"That's just darling!" Lindsey said. "Well look at you! You're absolutely glowing!"

She took a long drink before going on: "Tell me, what is it that attracts you to Paul so? What qualities do you love about him?"

That was a tough question - intentionally, I'm sure. How well did I really know Paul? Other than a couple dinners together and some fairly impersonal sex, I didn't. I obviously couldn't say money or sex. I decided I had to just take a shot.

"He's just got the most wonderful sense of humor, don't you think?" I said.

"Does he?" Lindsey said. "I'm not sure I ever noticed." She didn't believe me.

"Well yeah!" I said, trying to sell the lie with enthusiasm. "There's just something about the things he says that tickles me. I guess he kind of reminds me of my dad and brother in that respect."

Lindsey nodded, seemingly satisfied. I guess the daddy-issues explanation seemed plausible enough. That was the last of the interrogation, but over the course of lunch Lindsey and Karen gossiped plenty about those other college-aged girls who've shown up in their circles recently.

On the drive home I asked Paul if he knew those women would be grilling me.

"Absolutely," he said. "But I figured you could handle them."

"I hope I did well enough," I said.

"If not, we'll be sure to hear about it soon."

Monday June 5

Penny wanted me to tell her all about the party and golf, to make sure I was doing things right. She had no major criticisms after hearing my story. I asked her about Paul always wanting to come on my back - if there was anything I was doing wrong. She said she didn't know why he did that, but echoed that the customer is always right. It's okay to offer alternatives occasionally, she said, as long as it doesn't seem like you're criticizing their preferences.

I also met with Liz, the FBI agent. We went over my report together and she gave me some pointers on which details are most important. But really it's all about collecting names, jobs, and places when I can.

Liz is so cool. I hope that we can become friends. I want to know all about working for the FBI. And I want to know about her, too. Does she have a husband and kids? What are they like? How do they handle it when she's away on cases?

So it occurs to me that, with the exception of a few weekends when I was dating Miles, I've written about every single time I've had sex in my life. Well, no more of that. I just don't see a point in bothering to write, "We did it doggy-style and he came on my back" every day. The towel thing was fun, but it seems like that was an exception to the rule.

Tuesday June 6

I've been getting bored staying in the condo all the time during the day, so I worked on my code on my laptop in the coffee shop today. A guy and girl my age that I've seen around the condo a couple times were there and they introduced themselves to me: Kevin and Brie. They're house-sitting Kevin's dad's condo for the summer, largely so they can go to lots of baseball games. They seemed cool, and it was nice to be around people my age for a change.

Okay, so, a weird thing happened today. Paul and I were in the middle of dinner - we had ordered Indian food delivered - when someone rang the doorbell. Paul answered it. It was a short man with a loose baseball jersey and cap. He and Paul talked in whispers in the doorway, and then the guy handed something small to Paul, who walked briskly into his office and shut the door. A minute later he came out again, talked more in whispers with the guy in the doorway, and then the guy left. Despite my curiosity, I figured I shouldn't asked what it was about.

But... you know me. After Paul was asleep for the night I slipped into his office to look around. There was a thumb drive sitting next to his computer that I didn't remember being there, so I plugged it in to my laptop, un-deleted the video file that had been there, and watched it.

The video showed a pretty girl at a party that was winding down. The party-goers might have been in high school or college - I couldn't tell. "So, what next...?" The girl said, searching around the room while the camera followed her. She seemed happy; I couldn't tell if she had been drinking.

"Here, this," the guy holding the camera said, and picked up an empty beer bottle from an end table.

The girl took the bottle and reached under her skirt with it. When her hands came out, they were empty and the girl had a big, embarrassed smile.

"Is it...?" The camera guy asked.

"Uh-huh!" The girl answered, grinning scandalously.

"Show me."

The girl cast her eyes left and right, shrugging her shoulders as if to hide, somehow. Then she lifted her skirt for the camera, showing the neck of the beer bottle wedged in her vagina, held in place by her thighs.

"Jenn Mooney, ladies and gentlemen!" The camera guy said as Jennifer dropped her skirt and bent over laughing.

That's it. I can't imagine why Paul would want such a video, much less why he'd need it delivered in person in the evening. It doesn't seem like very good porn to me, unless Paul has some kinks that he hasn't revealed to me. Obviously I'm not going to say anything.

Thursday June 8

Paul and I had a really good cuddle last night after a really good fuck, so I was feeling close enough to him to risk asking a personal question.

"Why do you pull out before you come?" I asked. My head was on his chest and his fingers were in my hair and on my arm.

"Force of habit, I guess," he answered thoughtfully. "Maybe a little fear of intimacy," he added.

"You know you can with me, right?" I said. "There's so much you can do with me if you want to." I know that sounds corny as hell, but at the time I really meant it. After a really good orgasm, all those chemicals in my head make me want to stay with my lover - to really be his.

Paul didn't say anything else on that topic, but I didn't get the sense that he was offended.

A minute or two later he asked if I this was how I always wore my hair. When I said no he asked to see pictures of my other styles, so I showed him a few: blond and straight to my shoulders; brown and wavy - my natural look; redhead; black pixie-cut. Even the time I colored it blue in 7th grade to protest being sent back to Catholic school.

"You're wearing glasses in all these pictures," he observed. I had forgotten about that.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I normally wear glasses, but the agency said it would be better if I didn't during my time with you."

"Well, I'm glad," Paul said, tracing a finger over my eyebrow. "You're certainly cute with glasses, but with contacts you make me the envy of all of my friends."

Clearly Penny was right to forbid me wearing glasses. I wonder if Paul will realize at any point that there are no contact supplies in our bathroom? Or that I have to sit really close to the TV?

That was all last night. I didn't get back out of bed to write last night after Paul fell asleep because I was so comfortable that I drifted right off with him.

Tonight we had another visitor at the door, before we went out for dinner. It was the same guy, I think. Again he handed Paul something, but this time the messenger didn't wait around. Paul went into his office and closed the door again, and came out a couple minutes later.

So after Paul fell asleep tonight, I crept into his office and found a new thumb drive with a new video on it.

This one starred the same girl, Jenn, and some pretty Hispanic girl. They were clearly at a party. They were standing side by side, waiting for something.

"All right!" A frat-boy looking guy said, entering the camera's view. "We're here to settle once and for all who is the real blowjob queen on campus: Jenn, or Andi. It's simple: whichever girl finishes off her three guys first wins. To make sure there's no cheating, the girls have to spit each guy's load into their glasses. Contestants, will you please take your positions!"

The camera backed up and swung around to the side as the two girls knelt on couch cushions on the ground. Jenn pulled her hair into a ponytail, and then both girls put their hands behind their backs. A guy stood in front of each of them. Andi's guy had a long but not especially thick hard-on sticking out of his boxers. Jenn's guy was naked from the waist down. His dick was plump but a little droopy. Certainly suckable, though.

"Begin!" The master of ceremonies exclaimed, and the girls began.

Andi was going at it like I would have, working her lips and tongue over the first inch and a half of her guy's dick. She kept her hands behind her back, which seemed really awkward to me. I could understand if there was a rule saying she couldn't use her hands on the guy's dick or balls, but not being able to use them for balance would be uncomfortable.

Jenn was taking her dick deeper, once he got sufficiently hard. It wasn't deep-throat like I think of it; instead of trying to swallow his dick she was vigorously bobbing back and forth, rubbing his cock head, I assume, against the soft curved part at the top-back of her mouth. How she did that without gagging is beyond me.

Both girls were playing to win. The gathered crowd were cheering - even the girls - and some spectators were touching each other wantonly. One of the guys started groaning, rolling his hips as he emptied his load in Andi's mouth, and then she grabbed a glass next to her and spit the come into it. The guy she had been servicing stepped away and a new guy stepped up, holding his cock to keep it ready until Andi started her work on him.

Andi was a minute into her second guy when Jenn finally stopped moving her head long enough to collect her first guy's load in her mouth and spit it into her glass.

Andi's guy was keeping his hands behind his back, and occasionally doing a little hip bump while she sucked his crown. Jenn's guy, though, was touching Jenn's head with his finger tips. It wasn't long before he was mumbling: "Oh fuck, Jenn, that's so good. You are amazing - the absolute best."

It went on like that for a while, until Andi's guy started to moan. You could actually see panic flash across Jenn's face, but then she upped her game: Still bobbing vigorously, Jenn locked eyes with her partner. They were lustful, loving eyes. She also started to moan, as if she herself were approaching orgasm slowly.

Andi's second guy came in her mouth, and she spit it out into her glass. Her third guy had a short fat dick that she got straight to pleasuring.

Jenn and her guy were moaning in concert while she worked his cock against her throat. Her neck and abs were sure to be sore after this was done from going back and forth so fast. Jenn squealed as if she had just begun a climax, and seconds later her guy froze up and gushed into her mouth. A little bit actually spilled out the corner of her mouth, but she managed to wipe that on the lip of the glass when she spit out the rest of it.

Andi had a solid lead, but the instant Jenn wrapped her lips around her third participant's cock, she went right back into full gear with her eyes and moans. The silly notion that Jenn was coming from sucking his dick was turning her guy on hard; he almost immediately began to groan. Andi must have realized that she was losing ground, because she copied Jenn's idea and began to moan too, although nowhere near as convincingly.

Jenn braced herself with her hands in front of her as her guy let out a giant sigh. Two seconds later Jenn was spitting her final load into the cup.

Lots of things happened at once, then. The MC announced, "We have a winner! Jenn is officially the Dunwoody cock-sucking maestro!"

Andi immediately stopped her blowjob and complained, "She cheated! She used her hands!"

The guy whose cock Andi had abandoned begged, "Come on, Andi, please! Don't leave me like this!" He sounded like he would die.

The guy working the camera asked Jenn, "Jenn, anything to say to your fans?"

Jenn replied confidently, "Steven, you can kiss my ass!" She punctuated her remark with an arm gesture.

I can't think of any reason Paul would be receiving these videos. I'll have to think on this.

Friday June 9

We went to another party tonight. It wasn't a hotel ballroom like last time: tonight was a small gathering at someone's very expensive house.

Paul introduced me to some people, as his girlfriend, of course. Brian Lindell was a friend and sometimes partner of Paul's. There was a senator - Jason Gauthier. And there was a European couple: Maria and Leon Gallo. I couldn't tell where they were from.

It was obvious that these weren't just casual friendships: there was business involved. Likewise, introducing me to them clearly served some purpose, but I wasn't really sure what that was.

"Alexis is studying computer science," Paul told someone at some point.

"Seriously?" Brian asked. "Not theater or women's studies?"

I smiled and blushed as the implied slight, but Paul defended me. "She's very smart," he said.

"Really?" Brian questioned. "That's great. Hey - say something computer-sciencey!"

"Pardon me?" I asked. Was this asshole really quizzing me? Trying to show me up as a fraud?

I kind of froze for a few seconds. What could I say that these people would understand? Did any of them know anything about computers? Is it better to go over their heads or under?

"It's okay," Brian said smugly in response to my pause. "You don't have to..."

I cut him off. I probably sounded pretty defensive. "The crucial qualities of a relational database are atomicity, consistency, isolation, and durability. Public key cryptography relies on the difficulty of factoring very large numbers. The merge sort algorithm has a big-O of n-log-n."

I had no idea what response to expect, but I was disappointed. "'Big O', huh?" Brian said, and winked. "I bet all your classmates want to study big O's with you."

I think Paul was about to call the guy out on being an asshole, but someone from outside the conversation stepped in. "I heard tech-talk. Hi, I'm Mike." After a handshake, he asked, "Did I hear that you're a computer science student?" He and I talked for twenty minutes after that, while Paul, Brian, and the other people from the previous conversation went off in other directions.

There were only two other women at the party. The old one seemed to be there on her own merits. I couldn't tell what she was talking about, but based on her voice and her body language, she was clearly swinging her dick around in this old boys' club.

The other was Julia, a stunning late-20's brunette. She was somebody's trophy, like me, but with a way more classically sexy body type. Shortly after we were introduced, her boyfriend - or master or boss or whatever - casually mentioned that he was her first boyfriend in years: her last several relationships had all been women.

"Huh, I'd love to see that," Brian said.

Julia's boyfriend answered, "Julia, why don't you give Alexis a little kiss?"

Julia entered my personal space like she was going to kiss me, but my head was turned. I was looking at Paul for guidance on what to do. I mean, I know that guys get off on watching two girls make out, but I wasn't sure if that was appropriate for an event like this. It didn't seem like it. And anyway, I was his girlfriend, right?

Paul gave me a gesture that made no sense to me. Maybe it was a shrug, or maybe a nod, or who knows what. I didn't know what to do so I turned to face Julia and let her kiss me.

She held my face with both hands and kissed me hard with closed lips. When she didn't stop after a couple seconds, I went with it: I sighed and put my hands on her ass. All of the sudden, all conversation in the room stopped. All eyes were on us.

Julia stopped kissing me for a moment. Our cheeks rubbed and our hands moved around each others' backs. She whispered, "I guess we're the party's entertainment. I hope you're cool with this."

"Oh, I am!" I moaned, loud enough for the audience to hear. They didn't know what the question was, but I figured they'd like the answer.

Pretty soon Julia and I were on the couch making out. My hand was on her breast, hers was on my thigh. Nobody was talking louder than a murmur. The kissing was having an effect on me. My heart sped up and her hand on my thigh was making me wet. I wanted it to advance.

"Go down on me," Julia whispered. I looked her in the eye to make sure I'd heard her right and she nodded. So I dropped to my knees, lifted her dress up to her hips, and peeled off her panties.

And then I licked her. It didn't take long before she was moaning softly, humping her pussy into my face and rolling her head around with her eyes closed. I paused just a second to catch my breath, and caught a quick glance at all the people watching me, one escort going down on another. I smiled seductively at them before getting back to my task.

Julia had slid her butt more toward the edge of the couch, so her dress had ridden up to her waist. I continued licking her pussy and her moans changed. I was glad that I was getting results. But then her moans became even more intense, to the point where I wasn't sure that I was causing it. There's a rhythm to sex, and hers didn't seem to match mine. Her near-orgasmic cries didn't seem to match what I was doing to her.

As a sort of test, I actually stopped licking her briefly, although I'm sure the audience couldn't tell. Rather than slowing down, Julia shrieked and screamed, "Yes!" Her body convulsed and her arms slapped the couch. She was practically punching my face with her cunt. I resumed licking for good measure, but it was clear to me that I wasn't in charge of the show.

When Julia's body finally went limp and all she had left was heavy breathing, I put her panties back on her and pulled her dress down. After that I went and had two shots of tequila.

Look, I've only been with a couple women, but I think I'm pretty competent at cunnilingus. I spent the next few minutes in a daze trying to figure out what had happened. I mean, I believe that if you're going to do something, do it well. Was I not good enough to get the job done? I think I could have made her come legitimately - she didn't need to fake it. I actually felt cheated by the experience - robbed of a chance to prove to myself that I could get her all the way.

I caught Julia alone later in the evening.

"I just wanted to apologize," I said to her, allowing myself to be vulnerable. "If I wasn't doing it right, you know, I mean..."

"You were doing just fine, honey," Julia told me with understanding. "I just wanted to make sure things moved along."

"Oh," I said, not sure what to think about that.

"You're brand new to escort work?" She asked.

"Oh, our relationship's not like that," I lied.

"Uh-huh," she answered with grin. "Don't worry about it - you've got the knack. You'll learn the tricks of the trade quickly."

Paul asked me about it on the drive back home after the party. "You and that Julia woman," he said, "you seemed to really know what you were doing. Are you...?"

"No," I said with a smile. "Just, sometimes, weird situations come up." After a pause I added, "The last time I was with a woman, it was actually my boyfriend's twin sister."

Naturally Paul wanted to hear about that, so I told him a mostly true version of my relationship with Paris and Chloe. By the time I was done his dick was throbbing in my hand beneath his pants. Somewhere in there, Paul told me, "You excite me, Alexis." It doesn't seem like a big deal in hindsight but it felt like a powerful compliment at the time.

We were both pretty eager to get at it by the time we made it to the bedroom. I unzipped my dress, intending to get naked and assume the position on the bed, but Paul surprised me. Before I could take off my dress he lead me into the closet, in front of mirror.

He stood behind me, running his hands over my belly and chest. He kissed my neck and grabbed my breast. Feeling it was great, but seeing him do it to me was beyond thrilling. He lifted up the hem of my dress until his hand found my panties, and he rubbed between my legs. I was so fucking hot for him! In that moment, in my mind, Paul was my boyfriend and I was desperate for him to do me.

"I need you," I whispered, and he knew what I meant. He led me to my knees, but still upright, my dress loose at the top. He knelt behind me and pulled down his pants, and then he slid his hands up my legs and pulled down my panties. Then I watched his face as he entered me from behind.

This wasn't doggy-style - not yet. We were both kneeling, but I was only bent forward a little. He was sliding his cock around inside of me in a quite satisfying way. Again his hands moved around my front and his lips visited my neck. We sort of swayed forward and back together to make our sex parts do the rubbing that they craved.

I was whimpering, needful but satisfied, within minutes. He reached around in front of me and touched my pussy. Watching that, I exploded into orgasm. The thrill went on and on and on. I'm sure that he felt it and heard it from me. Hell, he probably even smelled it.

After a couple minutes of riding that high just like that, Paul guided me down so that I was on my elbows and knees, and he started pounding me in the more familiar manner. I had no complaints: I was getting a non-stop stream of orgasm after-shocks that kept my tingly while my vagina tried to come up with new ways to hold on to Paul's meat. I watched my breasts sway beneath me from the shaking he was giving me - not entirely happy with their shape in that position, but proud of the debauchery I was engaged in none the less. I enjoyed watching his hands on my ass, and the attentiveness he was giving every thrust.

Still moaning, I smiled to myself when I saw that Paul was reaching the end. I found myself thinking, he is about to absolutely ruin this dress by coming on it. To my surprise, and honestly, delight, he didn't pull out this time. He came inside me.

Paul said he had about an hour of work he needed to do before bed. I took a shower and started writing this. I'm actually really looking forward to climbing into bed with him tonight, and falling asleep in his arms.

Saturday June 10

I feel like I need to explain myself after that sappy stuff I wrote last night. I am NOT going to fall in love with Paul. Hell, I might need to testify against his friends some day. But we are developing a comfortable familiarity at this point. It's kind of like having a lab partner at school: You might not talk much outside of class, but while you're there you're friends and you have your own ways to goof around. For now, Paul is mine and I'm his, and I don't feel bad about making the most of it.

We went out to brunch together today. We're planning on dinner tonight at a "Brazilian Steakhouse". I don't know what that means, but it sounds fun.

My friends Martin and Mandy are having their first fight as a couple, and now they're both texting me to complain about the other. They're semi-long distance - a two hour drive from each other - so they only see each other on weekends. It sounds like a really stupid, pointless fight. Somehow the hypothetical idea came up of Mandy going back to giving anonymous blowjobs at the gym glory hole, and now they're fighting about whether Martin would be justified in sleeping with other women.

Sunday June 11

I had thought Paul said we would just be lounging around the condo today. Remembering Penny's advice to always look for ways to keep things sexy, I tried something new, clothes-wise: cutoff shorts, a tanktop, and no bra. This was definitely not part of the Penny-approved wardrobe, but I figured I had a sense of Paul's taste enough to improvise. It was just going to be hanging around home after all.

I honestly wasn't sure if Paul would notice. I mean, I can fill a B-cup, but there's nothing monumental about my breasts, and the the shirt is thin but not sheer. Still, Paul's eyes kept hungrily zeroing in on my nipples, so I knew I had made the right decision.

Around 11:30 Paul asked if I wanted to go run errands with him. I said yes - any chance to get out of the house - and that I'd go change. He suggested that I didn't.

Both of those were completely innocent requests, left totally up to me. I can tell with Paul now. Sometimes he'll say something like, "What do you say we go to bed?" And it's clear that my employer is telling me to do something as part of my job. But in this case I knew he wouldn't have minded if I'd stayed home, or if I'd changed.

I know that going out without a bra is perfectly normal to plenty of women, but the way I was raised, it was unthinkably risque. I was nervous about it, but Paul clearly liked the way I looked, and nobody knows me in this city, so what the hell?

We dropped off a pair of his shoes for repair. We had lunch at a nice outdoor bistro. We bought an antique clock for his mother's birthday. We stopped by Brian Lindell's house and met his wife and kids. And we hit some foreign currency exchange place where Paul handed in a big wad of colorful bills of some sort.

The whole time I felt exposed. It shouldn't be a big deal, but I was really nervous. It was also a thrill. A couple times Paul caught me subconsciously folding my arms in front of myself. He smiled as if he thought I was silly and I loosened up for a while.

On the drive home I asked him, "So is today the day I finally get to taste you?" I glanced at his groin to make sure he knew what I meant.

"Let's see what happens when we get home," he answered.

It happened. It happened hard. Basically as soon as we got home I pushed him into the couch, teased him, and then sucked the life out of him. It was fun to be the one in charge for a change - to know that he couldn't resist what I was doing to him no matter how hard he tried.

He fell asleep right after. He's still there asleep on the couch. In a minute I'm going to make up some salads - I don't think either of us wants a heavy dinner. Then, maybe we'll watch a movie or something.

Monday June 12

I hung around with Kevin and Brie at the coffee house again today. They're at that goofy sickening phase of their relationship where everything one of them says moves the other one so much that they have to kiss. It's funny.

This whole summer is a vacation to them. When they're not going to baseball games they're doing stuff like 3-day river rafting trips. They said I should come with them on one of their adventures. Sounds fun, but I have my duties here.

I met with Liz again, and she asked me questions about the party. She was frustrated that I hadn't seen much, due to my lack of glasses. It was a little weird when I told her about Julia faking her orgasm when I was going down on her, but Liz had said to tell her everything, and that part wasn't in the notes I had emailed her.

I tried researching that Jenn Mooney girl from Paul's videos. There were, of course, a million hits on the name, but I couldn't find any that seemed the right combination of age and location.

Tuesday June 13

I'm an idiot. I had assumed that those videos of Jenn were branch new. Nope - the metadata says they happened twelve years ago. With that in mind I expanded my search and found Jennifer Mooney-Taylor: soccer mom and Deputy Commissioner of Education for the state of Georgia.

I wonder what Paul wants with her? Some kind of ex-girlfriend revenge porn? I spent most of the day scouring their social and professional media pages, but couldn't find a link between them.

I suppose I could go visit her. I have no idea what I'd ask her, but maybe something would come up.

Wednesday June 14

I sent Paul a selfie today with the caption, "Thinking of you." I was naked, with wet hair, in the middle of our living room, which has tons of natural light. I was sitting with my knees in front of me so you couldn't really see anything inappropriate, but you could tell that I had nothing on. It was cute.

Paul didn't text back, but I'm sure he's a busy guy.

I also had a weird-as-fuck phone call with my mom today. Obviously she doesn't know the nature of my "summer job". She thinks it's a software internship with a big media company.

Understand that my mom was always pretty religious, and definitely always pushed the no-sex-until-marriage thing on me. Other than telling me not to do it, that was about all we ever talked about sex in my house until I asked to go on the pill at seventeen. A year and a half ago it came out that my mom wasn't a virgin when she married my dad. They got separated a little while later. In the last several months they've been talking about getting back together, but they're still seeing other people.

So we were chit-chatting about Atlanta and how many trees there are, and pollen, when out of the blue she changed topics. "So... we never really talked about sex... Other than the biology behind it."

I laughed. "It's okay, mom. I know how to be careful."

"I know you are, Lexi. You're so very responsible," she said. "But we haven't really talked about it. Like, do you know how to enjoy yourself?"

I stammered for a second. "Well, yeah. Of course. Doesn't everyone?" I guess in hindsight that's not true, but I'd certainly never thought of it as something you need to learn.

"Okay, good," she said with a little hesitation. "And you've tried ... things? You're not afraid to tell your boyfriend when there's something you want?"

"Well, yeah," I said again. "I'm not going to put up with a guy who won't work with me. It's something you do together."

Mom didn't say anything so I asked, "Mom, where's this coming from? Is there something going on with you?"

"Oh, everything's fine, Lexi," she told me. "I've just been dating again - having some new experiences - and I've been wondering if maybe I failed you as a mother by not preparing you for these things."

"Mom, stop. You did a great job raising me," I replied. "I'm good. Really. But I'm kinda worried about you. Is something wrong?"

"No! There's nothing wrong," she said. "There's just a lot that's new in my life is all."

"Mom, do you have someone you can talk to about this stuff? Girlfriends?" I asked.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Okay," I said. She was trying to reach out to me, I think, but I wasn't sure where to go with it. Does she want me to give her advice on blowjobs or something?

"You know there are places on the Internet where you can have real discussions about this stuff," I said. "It's not all porn. 'How do I talk to my partner about X?' or 'Is it normal if Y?'. Maybe spend a little time lurking around those."

"Maybe I will," Mom said.

"Maybe start with the sex section of Reddit," I added.

After that we talked about normal stuff. Aunt Patricia took in a rescue dog. Stuff like that.

I really would love to know what was going on in my mom's mind. Has she discovered some new kink? Does she not know how to say no to something her boyfriend wants? But as curious as I am, I just can't see us having that conversation.

Friday June 16

I got an appointment to meet Jennifer Mooney-Taylor today. I said I was a journalist from the University starting a series how the state government works. I figured maybe if I met her I would think of something to ask. I studied up on a couple things going on so I'd sound like a reporter.

Jennifer was totally nice. She was was a professional, and a mom - totally obvious by all the pictures in her office. She was eager to help me with my article. You would never guess that back in college (or was it high school?) she was performing in public blowjob contests.

I asked her about whether she has any big controversial work projects going on. Nope. I asked her if the job gets in the way of time with her kids, and alone time with her husband. ("Sadly, when you have kids, alone time is always hard to come by. But we make it work.") I just couldn't see it. Why would Paul have those videos if not to discredit or embarrass her? I couldn't come up with a reason.

She asked me about school and reporting, too, so I made some stuff up. Honestly I would have loved to stay and talk more, but she clearly had work to get back to.

As I was leaving, she told me, "It was a pleasure speaking with you. It's nice that people your age are taking an interest in government. Oh, and Lexi? Go dogs."

"Pardon?" I said, not sure what she had said or meant at the end.

She pumped her fist in the air. "Goooooo dogs! Hoo hoo hoo!" She said again.

"Oh, right. Go dogs!" I said.

I had to look that up when I got home. That's the football slogan for the University of Georgia, where I said I went to school. Apparently I'm supposed to write it "dawgs", but I just can't.

Saturday June 17

Tonight we hosted a party at our condo. I didn't have to do anything but socialize: the agency took care of catering and bar tending. There were only about fifteen guests anyway, so it wasn't a big thing. It felt more friendly and less business-y than the parties before.

Paul introduced me to a number of new people, and reintroduced me to the ones I'd met before. Mike was there - the guy who had saved me from Brian's stupid innuendos and stereotypes at one of the other parties - so when I wasn't required by Paul's side I was talking to him. He works for banks and programs in COBOL but on the weekends he tinkers with Unity.

People had started leaving when I walked up to Paul and Mike talking. "Dude, it's been forever. I don't dare see anyone because her lawyers will use any opportunity to screw me over," Mike said to Paul. "Please, man," he added after I arrived and he smiled at me.

"Alexis. Why don't you entertain Mike here in private for a little while?" Paul suggested.

I froze. I don't know what that sounds like to you, but to me it sounded like an order to have sex with Mike. I wasn't sure though. God, what if I made the wrong call and embarrassed us all?

More importantly, was this something I was even willing to do? Mike was pretty nice looking, and we'd gotten along pretty well over a couple long conversations. I've hooked up with guys based on less. But those were my choices. I hadn't signed up for this... right? I was supposed to be Paul's girlfriend, right? No. I was his employee. I could grab my laptop and walk away - figure out how to get back home from the coffee house. The FBI wouldn't get their intel and they certainly wouldn't want to work with me again if I abandoned my assignment. Fuck it. Hopefully it would just be this once.

"Yeah, um. Definitely," I said. I linked arms with Mike as I lead him to the bedroom because I figured that could be seen as an innocent gesture if I was reading the situation wrong.

Immediately when the door closed, Mike was unzipping my dress and pulling it off me. He removed my bra with equal haste, saying, "You have no idea how much I need this."

"Hey hey hey," I said soothingly and putting my hand on his chest. "Slow down. There's no need to rush this." I slipped away to take off my earrings and necklace at the dresser. I get to keep all of the clothes the agency bought for me, but my jewelry is just on loan and way super expensive by my standards.

"You're right. I'm sorry Alexis," Mike said.

After taking off my shoes I went back to Mike and hung my arms around him, kissing him. I was controlling the experience now. My body was slowly catching up to the idea of sex. I removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and helped him out of his shoes and pants.

A moment later he had me on my back with my legs dangling over the side of the bed. He was standing, but leaning over me. He let out a breathy sigh as he played with my boobs, and for a moment I thought he might come just from that. I touched him back as much as our positions would allow, feeling his sides under his shirt and kissing his hands as they squeezed caressed my breasts.

I kept it cool. I made it look like my focus was entirely on him, but a part of me was thinking about the door. There was no lock, and there were probably eight people outside who could walk in at any moment. If they were all my friends - people my age - maybe that would have been exciting, but not with this crowd.

Then there was the Paul situation. I was mad at him for pimping me out like this. Stupid, huh? But the more Mike touched me, and the more I saw how much he really wanted this, the more I wanted it too. That made me less mad at Paul. But I wanted to be mad at Paul. So then I started feeling guilty about being mad, and guilty about not being mad, and guilty about enjoying this mandatory hook-up. But all that went away quickly. Soon I was just glad to be there, moving toward a nice stiff romp.

Mike straightened upright. He looked at me with awe for a moment. Then he put his hand on my panties. "May I?" He asked.

"I was kinda hoping you would," I replied, trying for a friendly kind of sexy.

He took off my panties and put them on the bed, then he spread my legs and guided his cock into my pussy. We both moaned a little at the moment of penetration, but then he never stopped. Every stroke was like the first taste of a hot fudge sundae to him - I could see it in his face. He savored every thrust.

"That's good, Mike. Keep doing that," I said softly, matching the mood of our slow screw.

After another minute or two, I felt like I should say something. Maybe it was a reckless gamble, but I thought it would make him feel better. "I don't know who she was, Mike, but I can't imagine giving up a man who makes me feel like this." He smiled and moaned louder.

I was in no hurry - I was happy getting it on just like that for a long time - but eventually Mike picked up the tempo. He stopped moaning, and there was a change in his eyes - less sensual, more animal. The drum beat of his penis sped up and the nature of my excitement changed with it.

Mike lifted one of my legs up in the air, flat against his chest, and stroked my thigh while his dick pounded my cunt. I groaned at the new amazing feeling.

"Touch my cunt. Make me come," I told him. As requested, Mike's thumb began working on my clit. It was driving me wild. My moans were soft, but I know that my eyes were begging him to fuck me more - to make me come.

I had just started to climax, my body rocking with the spasms, when the door opened.

"I heard there was a party in here - figured I'd join in," the nondescript blur in the doorway said.

"Help yourself, man," Mike said. I kinda couldn't believe what I had heard. I mean, we were having a really personal moment, I thought - more than just sex. But my brain was awash in an orgasm high, so it wasn't working too well."

The new guy approached and took off his shoes and pants. He was partly bald but with long hair and glasses. He kinda reminded me of Ben Franklin. Mike held on to my leg and kept thrusting into me while the new guy grabbed my arms and dragged me over to the corner of the bed, so both my head and my free leg were draped over the edges.

So then Ben Franklin's dick was in my mouth, deeper than I could really do anything with from my position, so I grabbed his butt and pulled him into me and did my best to deep-throat him. (I confess that when I learned what this summer job might entail, I started practicing with a dildo to gain as much control over my gag reflex as possible.)

Mike went back to rubbing my clit and pounding my pussy, and soon I was coming again. My moans were stifled by the dick in my throat, but I guess that worked out pretty well for Ben Franklin, because he said, "Whatever you're doing, girl, just keep doing it. You're fucking amazing."

I didn't really feel like I had any control over it, but Mike kept fucking and rubbing me and I kept coming and moaning.

Ben Franklin, who seemed to appreciate of Mike's efforts to keep me coming, reached out a fist that Mike bumped in return. Just a moment later, Ben's fingertips moved to the sides of my face, he let out a bellow, and gushed jizz straight down my throat.

I stopped paying attention to him while he started to get dressed. I spent the rest of the time lifting my head so I could look at Mike's face, and see the wild look in his eyes. He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he came in my pussy.

"Thank you for a fantastic time" Mike started to say.

"I've gotta pee," I answered as I dashed to the bathroom with haste.

Neither guy was in the bedroom when I was done in the bathroom, but there were four one-hundred dollar bills on the bed. When I returned to the living room, all of the guests were gone and the caterers were taking their equipment away.

Once Paul and I were in bed I started touching his face and hands - you know, foreplay - but he basically shut me down and went straight to sleep.

Well excuse the fuck out of me, Paul! We've had sex every single night after the first, so forgive me for assuming we were going to tonight. I didn't realize that I was too fucking sullied now to be attractive to you. Maybe if you want to keep your toys in good condition, you should be careful about who you let play with them! You asshole! You have no right to shun me like this!

Sunday June 18

I guess I kinda lost it while I was writing last night. I'm better now. I guess I let myself believe the lie - that Paul was my boyfriend instead of my employer. I guess I can't really be upset. If you lease a luxury car, there's nothing to stop you from letting your friends take it out for a spin. This is pretty much the same thing: a girlfriend lease.

I just need to remember my why I'm here. I'm not Paul's girlfriend. I'm not even really Paul's call-girl. I'm an undercover informant for the FBI, helping to bring bad people to justice. As long as I remember that the affection is just an act, I should be able to do my job and probably even enjoy the sex along the way. Last night was my first time ever with two guys. I enjoyed it, but I should have let myself enjoy it more.

So maybe Paul will fuck me tonight, maybe he won't. It's his dime.

Monday June 19

Paul and I did have sex last night; tonight, too. Regular old doggy-style and pull-out.

Liz challenged me when we went over my notes today, asking if I had grown complacent. I told her no, that there just wasn't much to report this week. She accepted my answer, but something was clearly bugging her. I did make some headway at being social with her, though. I asked if she had ever concealed a gun while wearing a dress, and she said yes. I asked how. She said the easiest way to to wear shorts under the dress, with an inside-the-waistband holster in the small of your back. She said it's not a good option if you'll be tangoing or if you're expecting hugs.

That delivery guy showed up again this evening and gave Paul another thumb drive. After Paul fell asleep I found myself thinking, I wonder what Jenn is up to this time. I actually called her a slut in my head, which is pretty rich considering how I spent my weekend.

There was no video on this one. The main item was a PDF that seemed to be an insurance adjuster's report on water damage at some office building. There were also some invoices for office remodeling, and some screen captures of a company's Facebook page that showed off their new office.

I couldn't figure out what the point of it all was. There certainly didn't seem to be any connection to Jenn or Paul.

Tuesday June 20

Paul had told me to expect a package from Amazon today, so I thought nothing of answering the door when the bell rang at mid-day. No package - just Mike.

"Hey, um, if you're not busy, I was hoping we could... do it," he told me.

I was about to protest - say I wasn't sure how Paul would feel about it. I guess Mike saw that in my face because he added, "Paul sent me over. He said it would be okay."

Okay, sure, I've got a new easy-going attitude about my job as an undercover prostitute. But I was thinking, Geez, Paul, at least let me know someone's coming. You told me about a printer toner delivery but not this? But, you know, the customer is always right, and honestly Mike rocked me pretty hard last time, so I told him to come in.

Mike started taking off his clothes right away in the living room. I giggled. "Was there something in particular you had in mind?"

"I am dying to fuck you up the ass while feeling your tits, right here in front of this window," he said. "Anal is okay, right?"

"Yeah, I'm good with anal," I said, "but did you happen to bring any lube? We don't have any here."

"No. Damn," he said.

"Do you want to run out and get some? There's a drug store that's a ten minute walk from here."

"I'm on my lunch break. I can't spare the time," Mike explained. "Haven't you got anything around here that would work?"

"Nothing sanitary, no," I said. He looked like he was going to argue about it, but I gave him a look that said no. Having gone to a Catholic high school, I heard plenty of horror stories about couples who came up with creative ways to avoid keeping sex paraphernalia at home.

"What else can I do that would make you happy?" I asked, and touched his chest.

"We'll do it straight then," he said. "Is here good?" He asked, and sat on the living room floor.

I took my panties off under my skirt and climbed on top of him, rubbing my already wet gash against his balls. While I was doing that, I took my bra off under my shirt Mike was watching with a big smile on his face. For an instant I found myself wondering if he had any daughters. I unbuttoned my shirt but left it on.

I could feel his cock throbbing so I teased him a little, shifting my weight to bend the eager little fella toward Mike's belly. Soon, though, I figured it was time to get started. I rose up and shimmied and wiggled to take aim, and then I slowly sank down onto Mike's cock and let it touch me inside. Then I started rocking.

Mike immediately started squeezing my breasts. "God. Don't ever lose these tits," he said. I giggled even though I knew what he meant.

We fucked a little longer, smiling at each other silently, and then he observed, "You're wearing glasses."

"Oh, yeah," I said. I had forgotten about them. I stretched my arms over my head. I guess I did it to distract him with my boobs or something.

"I thought Paul didn't like girls with glasses," he observed.

"I don't wear them around him," I said. I changed my movement into a more aggressive circular grind, and he moaned and shut up.

After another couple minutes, Mike started getting eager. He was kinda bucking his hips up into me as if to encourage me to speed up. I took the hint and rose up a little, letting him be in charge of the grinding, and he started thrusting into me with long, faster-paced strokes. That meant I was leaning forward more, close to his face.

"Mmmf," I moaned and closed my eyes as I got used to the new intensity.

"What are the people at your office going to say when you come back with that big grin on your face, smelling like sex?" I asked. I licked my lips because they were dry, but he thought I was being seductive. Heh.

"I'm hoping...," he said between gasps, "for a few high-fives."

His hands moved to my hips. He was working his boner up into me pretty hard, and I was liking it. I rose upright, pulled up my skirt, and started playing with my clit. We both moaned softly for a time just like that, both obvious feeling much more than we our voices let on.

Out of nowhere, Mike flipped me around like a judo master so that he was on top of me, breathing heavily enough to fog up my glasses, and grunting with the need for release.

"Don't come yet! Wait!" I ordered him. "Almost," I said as I squirmed around beneath him to find just the right position. "Okay, yeah!" I said as I let him fuck me across the finish line.

"Mmmf! Oh god yes! Just... Fuck yes!" I shouted as I came. Mike groaned and filled up my quaking pussy with everything he could. I mean, seriously - the way his midsection was tightening, it was like his whole body was working to squeeze out every last sperm. I lifted my head and peppered his chin with kisses.

Some of his come almost immediately leaked onto my skirt after the pulled out, but better there than the carpet. I suggested he have a glass of water while I cleaned up, but he had to go.

I spent much of the rest of the afternoon smiling and laughing to myself. I tried calling Juliet, but she's been working crazy hours lately. I thought about calling Mandy, but there's no way I could tell her anything without raising lots of unwelcome questions. Besides, I'm sure she'd take that as an invitation to tell me all about her sex life with Martin, and I don't want to go there.

Paul and I were eating Italian takeout when he asked if his package had been delivered.

"No. I thought they arrived super-early, but it was just Mike," I said.

"Mike was here?" Paul asked casually. "What for?"

My heart skipped a beat. "You didn't send him over?" I asked in a panic.

"No," Paul said, still casual. "Why would I?"

"Oh. He said that I should sleep with him. That you had okayed it," I said fearfully.

Paul was suddenly steel. "What were his exact words?" He asked.

I told him what I remembered: "Paul sent me over. He said it would be okay."

"I am SO FUCKING STUPID," I added. "I should have texted you - I never should have fallen for that. I am so sorry, Paul.

"It's not your fault," he said emotionlessly.

Paul pulled out his phone, dialed, and spoke: "Come to my apartment in the next thirty minute, or you can explain to your boss why he's losing a hundred-million dollar deal."

We finished our dinner in silence - a nervous silence for me. Right at the end the doorbell rang.

Paul opened the door and, on seeing Mike, grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him inside. Mike stumbled and fell.

"On your knees," Paul said. I had never seen this side of Paul before: he was furious, but speaking softly. His fists were clenched at his sides.

Mike got on his knees, genuine terror in his eyes.

"Apologize to Alexis for deceiving her," Paul said.

Mike blathered. His wife's lawyers are being so mean, and I'm so beautiful, and he's been working such long hours, and the medication he's on is doing weird things to his libido. It wasn't a very good apology. It was definitely motivated by fear rather than remorse. None the less, when he finished, I told him I accepted his apology. I was kinda worried what Paul might do to him if I didn't.

"Now apologize to me," Paul said. Mike looked confused so Paul clarified: "Apologize for using my name - my credibility - without my authorization."

Mike spit out another panicked apology. Paul listened.

"Leave," Paul said when Mike was finished. "I don't want to see you at any of our meetings. I don't want to see you at all. Anywhere."

Paul and I were both silent for a while. I went to the kitchen to refill my glass, and I asked if Paul wanted a beer. He shook his head. He said he was going to work for a while and then went into his office.

I really wanted to go for a swim or a run, but I didn't want Paul to think that I was fleeing from him. I wasn't sure if he would want me for something. So I just watched TV.

At bedtime we went to the bedroom and took off our clothes, but Paul climbed right under the blankets, so I did too. He didn't respond to my efforts to cuddle, but he did tell me again, "It wasn't your fault." I lay there as he fell asleep, wishing he would hold me.

Now it's about midnight and I'm writing this. I think I might go for that run now, if I can get dressed without waking Paul.

Thursday June 22

Paul did warm up a little yesterday, so it looks like we're back to our usual routine. I'm glad. It would be really weird if I had to stay here with him but he hated me.

I tried calling the insurance claims inspector from the latest shifty delivery. His office said that he wouldn't be available for at least two weeks. They wouldn't tell me why when I asked, but I got the impression it wasn't an ordinary vacation. The fact that they didn't know how long he'd be gone seemed suspicious.

Friday June 23

I spent a long time talking to Kevin and Brie, and their friend Mary, at the coffee shop today. We pass each other in the halls frequently, but it seems we only have time to talk over lattes.

They're going to a show tonight, and asked if I wanted to come along. It's a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I told them that I had seen clips and it always looked stupid to me. Mary - the only one who's seen it "the proper way" - says that that's part of the fun. There are all these amazing traditions of audience participation that make seeing it in the theater unlike any kind of entertainment you've ever experienced before. All three of them were super excited for Kevin and Brie's first time going.

"It's almost Shakespearean - a show within a show," Mary said excitedly.

"Please come!" Brie begged.

They made it sound interesting, but evenings are when I'm on-call for my job, so I told them, "It sounds fun, but evenings are the only time I get to spend with my boyfriend."

Kevin and Brie looked at each other like they were both thinking the same thing but didn't want to say it. "It's okay," I told them, "you can say whatever it is."

Brie's thoughts started gushing out of her mouth. "I mean, honestly, what's the appeal? Why are you with him? Wouldn't you rather be with someone your own age?"

I was actually ready for that question. "I should be - that would make more sense," I said. "But who can explain love? I know that it looks pretty sleazy to everyone else. I know what people probably whisper about us. But the way he makes me feel when we're alone together - talking, or in bed - there's just no one else who could come close to that.

They believed me. They thought I was in denial or too inexperienced to know what real love is, but that's pretty much what I was going for. Maybe I should be an actress.

Still, if I had met them back at home where I didn't have to worry about Paul, I would definitely go on their little adventures with them.

Sunday June 25

Today Paul and I visited his family in Greenville, South Carolina. Usually when we go places Paul drives, but since Greenville is a two and a half hour drive, he got us a limo. We both just worked on our own stuff on our laptops on the way there, and Paul made a few phone calls.

I wasn't really sure what I should wear. I asked Penny - she said a modest dress, with light makeup and one or two pieces of jewelry. That didn't feel right, though, so I asked Paul. He said to wear something I would wear to class, so I went with nice jeans, a billowy top, and my cross pendant. Paul smiled when he saw me and said that I should dress like that more often. Of course, as usual with Paul, I wasn't wearing my glasses.

Paul's mom Karen is a retired teacher, so she loved hearing about the educational apps that my company makes at my part-time job back home. Paul's dad is Warren. I didn't catch what he did for a living, but he was nice and actually pretty funny in a "dad joke" way. He asked lots of questions about what college is like these days. He says the news makes it sound like you can't walk ten feet without running into an angry hoard of protesters.

Paul's brother, Levi, has a mental disability. He lives at home but he has a job assembling medical technology in a clean room somewhere. ("He helps save lives," Karen gushed.) I didn't know what to expect, but before long we were getting along just fine. Talking with him wasn't difficult or anything, he just sees things from a different perspective. It was kind of like talking to a twelve year old.

His family loved me. I had to wonder how many of his other escort "girlfriends" they had met. It's hard to imagine that they would have been this warm and welcoming to me if this were a regular occurrence.

Levi was obviously attracted to me; he stared and smiled at me a lot. I confess it felt a little bit uncomfortable, but I knew that he didn't mean any offense. After lunch and another hour of socializing, Paul said that he and his mom and dad had some legal papers to go over. "Alexis, why don't you entertain Levi while we work through the details," he said. "Levi, why don't you show Alexis your collection?" He added.

Alarm bells started ringing in my mind. "Entertain" - that was the same word he had used a week ago when he basically ordered me to fuck Mike. Was I wrong to think that Paul had learned from the Mike situation? Would he really loan me out to someone like that again? To his brother? And then there were the moral questions about having sex with a mentally disabled person: how capable do they have to be before they can give meaningful consent?

I was kinda panicking when Levi led me to his bedroom. We sat down on his bed and he started showing me pictures of him with celebrities from sci-fi conventions. He was clearly proud of the pictures and wanted to impress me, often telling me detailed stories about when they were taken. I didn't know who most of the people were, and I've never understood the appeal of collecting autographs. Ultimately, despite staring at my breasts a lot, Levi never made any moves, and I certainly wasn't going to. If Paul expected me to fuck his brother, I figured, he needed to tell me much more clearly.

As we were leaving, Karen said she couldn't wait until we visited again. I told her "me too" even though I knew that my contract with Paul would be over before that happened.

On the drive home Paul looked at me with a sort of wonder. "All that stuff," he said, "about your job writing software, putting yourself through college, that was all true?"

"Yeah," I said with a shrug.

"So, you don't need this job," he said curiously.

"I don't need it," I said. "It'll certainly help me graduate sooner."

"So is it just about the money?" He asked. This was so weird. We almost never broke the boyfriend-girlfriend illusion even when it was just the two of us.

Time to make something up. "I was raised Catholic," I began. "So there were always all kinds of rules - especially about sex. Like everyone, as I grew up, I had to decide what the church's teachings meant to me personally. Obviously I had sex, and I enjoyed it, but there was always the guilt and doubt. Was I really choosing on my own, or was it peer pressure, or rebellion. I guess... this job was a way of challenging myself. There was no way that doing something this out-of-bounds could be anything other than my own conscious decision. Does that make any sense?"

"You're a fascinating woman, Alexis," Paul told me.

After a minute, I asked, "If you don't mind me asking, why do you do it? There have got to be a lot of girls who want to date you."

Paul's shoulders slumped a little. "Have you ever had your heart broken? Not just broken but shattered into dust?"

"Broken, yeah," I said.

"I had a fiance - my whole life tied up with hers. It nearly killed me when she left," he said. "At first, the escorts were literally just that - pretty women to accompany me at social events. Then one time when one of them offered additional services, I gave in to temptation. I had gone too long without that intimacy. I tried dating again eventually, but it was always too much of a hassle for one reason or another: gold diggers, or incompatible schedules. Some day I'll go back to a normal dating life, but for now this works for me. I hope it works for you too."

"It really does," I said, and kissed him on the cheek.

It didn't take long from there before we were kissing and touching each other intensely, rolling around in the back of the limo. Something was different about him this time: it wasn't the smooth but distant make-outs we'd had so many times in the past. I think, maybe, this was the first time he was really letting himself feel something for me.

Paul reached to unbutton my jeans but then he hesitated and looked at me. It was like he wanted to ask my permission - real permission - but didn't know how.

"Take me. Please," I said. He knew I meant it. He knew it wasn't just me doing my job.

We both took off our pants and underwear and then he climbed on top of me, sort of half-on, half-off the seats in the back of the car. We were face to face for the first time, him thrusting his body into mine, and me holding him tight and hoping he would never stop. Honestly, I've never felt so wanted in all my life. His desire made every movement magical.

All good things come to an end, but it ended with Paul coming in my pussy and then sighing with a vulnerable sort of satisfaction. I held his face and smiled at him for a few silent seconds.

"Is there a box of tissues or something?" I eventually asked. Paul looked around but couldn't find anything.

I guess I started leaking, because Paul touched his fingers to my pussy, and then held them up with a little gob of his come on them, not sure what to do next. I pulled his hand closer and sucked his fingers clean while making sexy eyes at him.

And thus began our game. Several times, Paul dug his fingers inside my pussy, or sometimes just around the outside, and then brought his fingers to my mouth to be sucked. I moaned every time he penetrated me. Before long there wasn't any semen left to taste, but his fingers kept coming back wet.

Eventually Paul dropped to his knees and kissed my pussy while he fingered me, leaving my mouth free to moan full time. I came SO MANY god damned times! It wasn't all my G-spot, or all my clit, or anything else: he kept adapting. He'd make me come one way and then switch to something different, again and again. I would have grown raw if he had just stuck with one technique, but Paul knew how to keep me going. This man had skills!

I didn't look at a clock when my trip to heaven began, but piecing things together in hindsight, I think he made me come non-stop for an hour.

I did have to stop him eventually. Some non-specific discomfort eventually became too much to ignore. Once we stopped, that discomfort revealed itself as an urgent need to pee.

We pulled over at a highway gas station to freshen up and buy sodas. I was euphoric. I wanted to stop every woman I passed in the store to tell them about what had just happened to me. I didn't, obviously, but it's funny that I wanted to.

When we got home we had dinner, played a game of chess (we both suck), took a bath together, and then went to bed. I wanted to stay in bed with him, but as usual, I wasn't tired and wanted to come out here to the living room to write this all down.

It was a really good day.

Monday June 26

Kevin and Brie say they had a ton of fun at the show. They're going again this Friday and really want to take me. I said I'd talk to Paul about it.

I had a meeting with FBI Liz again at the agency today to go over my notes. I mentioned the suspicious delivery guy, but Liz didn't seem to care.

Paul and I did it missionary-style tonight. We came together and my pussy drank up all of his come. Yay!

Tuesday June 27

I set Paul's alarm to ten minutes earlier than normal last night. He didn't seem to notice. I explained it to him on my knees in the shower right before I sucked his dick.

A little before lunch time I sent him a selfie of me sucking my finger. I included the message, "I can still taste you."

In bed tonight we tried to have sex - first missionary, then doggy-style - but he couldn't keep it up very long at a time. I wasn't going to give up so easily though: you can bet that I kept at it until I sucked another orgasm out of him. We both agreed that it was too much work, though. He said that's the first time he had come twice in one day in ten years.

Wednesday June 28

Paul declined another morning BJ this morning. He said he'd rather save his energy for tonight.

I made it a point to be in my underwear dancing around to pop videos when Paul came home. My ex Miles used to get turned on watching me dance in my underwear, so I figured maybe it would be a treat for Paul. He just watched me for a song or two, then he pulled me onto the couch with him and we made out a while.

Later, in bed, I got to be on top.

Thursday June 29

I asked Paul if he would be interested in going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show with Kevin and Brie.

"People still do that?" He asked.

"You know what it is, then?" I countered.

"Oh, yeah!" He told me. "My friends and I used to go when I was in college. It was a great time. If they're still doing it like they used to then it's definitely something you should experience."

"We can go, then?" I asked, excitedly.

"I take it this is a midnight showing?" He inquired. I nodded. "Sweetheart, I can't stay up that late any more. I'm just not wired for it."

I made a pouty face.

"You should go. Have fun with your friends," He said. "You'll enjoy it more with people your own age."

"I don't want to leave you alone on a Friday night," I said.

"Alexis, go," he said. "Be young, have fun. You can tuck me into bed early and then go out with your friends. Just text me if you're not going to be home by morning. Or call if you need anything."

I hugged him. He's turning out to be a pretty good boyfriend.

Friday June 30

The delivery guy dropped off another thumb drive just before Paul and I went out to dinner at a Cajun place. Dinner was good, but curiosity about the thumb drive itched in my head.

I convinced Paul to have sex like I used to with my ex Miles: Me on my side; him straddling my leg and humping me in a steady roll. He was holding my hand when I came, which I liked a lot.

After that I got dressed and met Kevin, Brie, and Mary for the show. It was so much fun! The music, the people, the costumes, and so many weird rituals! I could write about it for pages! But I won't. Instead I'll just say this: Go! See it in a theater where weird people hang out at midnight. Streaming it to your TV at home won't do.

I was actually pretty tired when I got home, but I just had to know what was on the latest thumb drive.

The pictures were of a thirty-ish woman and a high school boy. In one they were holding hands; in the other she was clinging to his front, arms and legs wrapped around him, kissing him. The background looked like it was probably a school.

The audio recording was sex: presumably those two. There was lots of moaning, but also a lot of talking.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me!"

"Like that?"

"No, fuck me harder!"

"Like this?"

"Don't tease me you son of a bitch!"

"Use my name."

"Give it to me hard, Thomas! I'm not one of those fragile little waifs who are always making eyes at you. I'm a god damn fucking Marine! Hammer me!"

There were a couple minutes of howling then. He really was hammering her. You could hear flesh slapping together and the gurgling of sloppy kisses.

"Is this better than the last time, Coach?

"Oh yes..."

"What about the time before that?"

"Yes!"

"And the time before that?"

"Better than all of them. You're a god damned prodigy with that cock!"

"You taught me everything - uh! - I know - uh! - Miss Klein."

It went on for another three minutes. There were plenty of sounds coming from their mouths, but no words. I actually got the impression that came twice in the last segment... but that's not possible, right?

I have some suspicions, but I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

Saturday July 1

We went to another fancy party tonight in a hotel ballroom. Penny insisted that this dress, too, must be worn with a thong, so I just skipped underwear all together. I flashed Paul a peek in the car and he smiled approvingly.

Remember how I said I can't wear my glasses around Paul - especially when I'm out socializing with him? So I was looking to rejoin Paul after a stop at the restroom, when I heard a woman's voice: "Lexi Green don't you dare pretend you didn't see me."

My accuser was Simone, one of the girls who, thanks to my sleuthing, was arrested for the Chi Omicron conspiracy at college.

"Simone!" I said with surprise. "I'm sorry - I really didn't see you. I don't have my glasses: I'm blind past ten feet. How have you been?" Stupid, stupid question.

Simone was wearing a hotel bartender's uniform. "How have I been? You mean besides the three months in jail? Well, there's the twenty-two thousand dollars I owe for a degree that was revoked and another five thousand for legal expenses. And there's the fact that my parents had to move because of all the harassment we were getting. And now I'm here on my feet twelve hours a day, dressed like this, serving drinks for people like you! So I'm doing great, Lexi, how about you?"

"Simone, I'm sorry that your life sucks, but you need to take responsibility for your choices," I told her. "You cheated every student at the University out of a level playing field, and you got caught. I'm sorry that the price was so steep, but you brought that on yourself. Anyway, I wanted to give you guys a chance to shut the whole thing down quietly, but then you sent goons to beat me up."

"Should have sent more," she muttered with a smirk. She continued: "And don't be so high-and-mighty: you've used sex to get what you want," Simone accused. "Or are you really going to tell me that taking Hailey's virginity in Piper's bedroom was just a spontaneous outburst of sapphic love?"

As my luck would have it, Paul chose just that moment to come up beside me, slip his arm around my waist, and kiss my cheek. "Who's your friend, Alexis?" Paul asked. Simone's face exploded with glee.

"This is Simone. We know each other from college," I explained. "Give us a minute to catch up?" I asked.

Paul is not stupid: he saw that there was animosity between Simone and me. "Okay," he said, squeezing my hand. "But don't take too long - we wouldn't want your friend to get in trouble for neglecting her responsibilities." He looked her over menacingly as he said that. It was the look of someone with power over someone else.

Just as soon as Paul left, Simone started laughing. "You world-class hypocrite!" She said. "You bring the cops down on us for 'prostitution', and here you are with your very own sugar daddy! What did he give you? An apartment? A car? How many more times do you have to fuck him before you're paid off?"

"Simone...," I said, hoping she'd be reasonable, even though I had no idea what I was going to say. It didn't matter.

"Facebook is going to loooove this!" She said. "Ooh! Twitter first!" She added as she pulled out her phone.

I walked away. I hope the gossip doesn't affect Paul.

Monday, July 3

I tracked down Coach Klein's school. When I went to see her - again using the college reporter excuse - they told me she was on jury duty. The woman in the office said that she expected the trial to wrap up this week, though.

So the coach, on whom Paul has gathered incriminating information, is on a jury. The insurance adjuster, on whom Paul has... well, I don't know what, is on a leave of unspecified length. That could be jury duty too. Jennifer, the public official with embarrassing sex tapes in Paul's possession, is not on jury duty, but her mom is. I just double-checked and she has mentioned it a couple times on social media. I think Paul is trying to rig a jury.

I put in a call to Liz. She had canceled our usual meeting today, so I left a message saying that I have urgent information to share with her. Hopefully she'll get back to me soon. In the mean time, I think I'll go to the courthouse and see if I can find these people. If I can verify that they're all on the same jury, it might make it easier for Liz to stop the jury tampering.

Tuesday July 4

Paul worked today, despite it being a holiday. That's cool - it meant that I was free to meet Liz at Daniel's office. I guess she was working today too. Funny, if there's anyone you'd expect to get Independence Day off, it would be the feds. I guess justice never sleeps or whatever.

I was practically gushing when I told her my theory about the jury tampering. I hadn't found anything at the courthouse yesterday, but I figured I still had plenty of good evidence. Liz just said, "I'll let my superior know. We'll take care of it." She seemed annoyed - like I was wasting her time.

Paul actually cooked dinner for us tonight. It was good. We ate a late dinner out on the patio watching the fireworks.

Around the time I figured Paul would be ready for bed, I disappeared and drew a bath. When I came back to him dressed in a towel, I did my best to entice him to come join me. It worked.

At first there was kissing, and touching, and splashing. Eventually things turned naughty, of course. I don't know what it was, but there was something about being in the bath that made playing with his cock really fun. I squeezed it and tugged it. I batted it around between my hands like a mouse caught by a cat. I bent it this way and that and watched it spring back to the center.

Eventually I ended up sitting sideways on his abs with my legs dangling over the side of the tub. I was wanking him just above the water line, so my hand made a splashing sound with every stroke. His hand was between my legs making me feel very good.

Paul groaned a little like he was getting ready to come. I gave him a questioning look, thinking he might prefer a different sort of finish, but he nodded. I squeezed hard and moved my hand up and down his shaft quickly. He moaned my name, and then several spurts of semen shot up into the air like a fountain.

Paul was generous: he kept fingering my clit until I came. And then until I came again, and again. "How is this possible?" I asked breathlessly while his hands commanded my body far better than I've ever been able to do myself. I mean, seriously, I should have been paying him for this sex!

Paul stopped and we stood up. I was completely satisfied. But by then he was hard again, so he pushed me up against the towel rack and sunk his meat into me. He fucked me up against the wall with my legs wrapped around him until the thump thump thump of his cock made me come again.

That's when he stopped. He didn't come a second time - I don't think he can that quickly. I licked my lips ready to give it the old college try, but he declined and said it was time for bed.

We did fall asleep together, but I woke up two hours later. Between the fireworks and wondering if I have an email from Liz I couldn't sleep, so I came out the living room, naked as usual, to write this.

Paul's come had floated on the surface of the water while he continued to finger me, and so it stuck to us in all kinds of places. I keep finding little rubbery sticky beads of congealed come hidden all over my body.

Wednesday July 5

Simone's tweets about my "sugar-daddy" won't seem to die. She doesn't have any proof - pictures or anything - but there are enough people who want to believe bad things about me to keep the rumors circulating.

I went to the courtroom again today, and this time I found them: a group of fourteen people being lead by well-dressed old people wearing name tags to a special room adjoining the cafeteria. I recognized Coach Klein and Jennifer's mom from social media, but I hadn't found any pictures of the insurance adjuster. There was one guy who looked like he might have been an insurance adjuster, but that's just stupid stereotyping. After a while they left the cafeteria. I figured I'd follow them to whatever courtroom they were going to, but the bailiffs lead them through a security door, so I couldn't follow.

Still, I think I figured out which case they're on by cross-referencing various public info online. The courtroom scheduling and judges' calendars, combined with the list of charges, narrowed it all down pretty nicely. The person on trial was Jerome Appleby, and the list of charges was like a supermarket receipt, but they all seemed to revolve around some sort of embezzlement.

I sent Liz an email with what I had found out, asking her to call me back. She wrote back: "Thank you for the information. Now please return to the task for which you were hired."

Paul and I went out to dinner tonight, but before we left the condo, I was sitting on the living room couch looking at a code review.

"Alexis, may I borrow your laptop for a moment?" Paul asked as he finished putting on his tie. It was a weird thing to ask: he had a computer in the office a few paces away.

"Really?" I asked. I was just surprised.

"Yes, really," Paul answered. He sounded strangely distant.

Please understand that there is nobody that I would give access to my files. Maybe Miles, back when were were dating, but nobody since then: not Dad, not Oliver, not Juliet. So I suspended my current user session and logged in as a guest user before handing the laptop to Paul.

That didn't escape his notice. "You could have stayed logged in," he said. "It will only be a moment." It almost seemed like he was deliberately positioning the laptop so that I couldn't see the screen.

"I use a lot of obscure settings," I explained. "This way is easier - I don't have to change the settings to what a regular person expects, and then change them back again when you're done."

Paul seemed to buy that explanation - which was, in fact, true. "Why don't you go get ready?" Paul suggested. "Maybe the maroon dress?"

I didn't realize it was going to be that formal. It took me a while to put on makeup and choose the right accessories. And the maroon dress is one of those "thongs or nothing" dresses, so no underwear for me. I wasn't worried about my laptop: the hard drive is encrypted and all of the passwords are secure.

Paul was quiet all through dinner. After dinner he took a phone call in his office. I couldn't tell what it was about, but he sounded very serious.

After that, Paul said it was bedtime. We'd been really branching out and trying new things sexually lately, so I was surprised when Paul asked me to take off my clothes and get on my hands and knees. I did, of course, and then he fucked me.

Look, I don't generally think of doggy-style as gentle, but Paul was really slamming me! It didn't hurt - maybe if he had a really big dick or something it might have - but it was jarring, and over too quickly for me to enjoy it. He didn't come inside, and he didn't come on my back. This time he just kinda sprayed it all over my ass and thighs. He didn't clean me up either. There were red hand prints on my hips from how hard he was squeezing me.

Friday July 7

Holy fuck! I think I'm lucky to be alive!

I wasn't sure why Paul was acting so weird Wednesday night, but I wanted to be a dutiful employee/girlfriend, so yesterday I sent him a thinking-of-you video: 8 seconds of me twirling in a skirt to flash my thong, and then blowing the camera a kiss. It took me an hour to get it right.

When Paul got home at 7:00, right away he said we should go to bed. He asked me to strip and get on my hands and knees again. This time, as he took off his pants, he took his belt out of the loops and doubled it over, slapping it against his hand as he approached me.

My mind flooded with scenarios of what this could mean. Paul had never shown any interest in BDSM before, so a couple playful little swats seemed unlikely. He was actually acting sort of manic. I wondered if he intended to really hurt me?

Should I try to run? Maybe I could make it to the hallway, naked and screaming, or maybe not. Maybe he didn't really mean to hurt me and it was just a sick joke.

I'd like to say I was cool under pressure. Maybe I could have asked him for a safe word, to test his intentions. Maybe I should have said that this was not part of the arrangement and that I wouldn't do it. Maybe I should have a way to talk my way out of it. Instead, I froze.

I was trembling when he slipped the belt around my neck, his hard cock sliding around between my thighs. He had to have known that I was terrified. He had to!

"Alexis?" Paul asked as he pulled the belt taut against my throat. "What were you doing at the court house on Wednesday?" He rubbed his dick against my slit, gathering slippery wetness. It's fucked up - I was possibly moments from death, but I was wet!

"I um..." I stuttered, "th... I'm taking an online summer school class," I said unconvincingly. "I've got a paper."

"Huh!" Paul reacted. "You never mentioned a class. Maybe you could show me your notes," he said. He pulled on the belt forcing my head back more than was comfortable.

I don't know what would have happened - I really don't - but just then Paul's phone rang. "Stay just like that," he instructed me as he left the bed to answer it.

"...And? Acquitted? All charges? You're sure? Okay, good, now let's talk about Boston..."

Paul covered the phone and turned to me. "I've got business to handle. You should probably have dinner without me," he said, suddenly not seeming like a complete psycho after all.

I got dressed, went for a walk, had dinner at an English-themed bar. It felt like everyone was staring at me. They knew I was about to cry; they knew that my heart was about to explode; they knew that I was sweating and freezing and trembling. And they knew that it was all my own fault.

I thought about calling someone - but who? Who could I possibly confide in about what had just happened? How do you just gloss over the "I've been sleeping with someone for a month for the FBI," and skip to "and he almost killed me."?

As astronomically stupid as it sounds, I went back to the condo. Paul was still on the phone in his office when I went to bed at 3:00 AM.

Paul acted totally normal this morning getting ready for work, and so I guess I did too. At 10:00 Penny showed up: my services were no longer needed.

Penny was pissed that I had been fired. She didn't know what I had done, she told me, but I had made the whole agency look bad and possibly cost them a regular client. I tried hinting that last night I had come a hair's width away from being beaten or worse, but she didn't care. She supervised while I collected my things - the clothes, my laptop, and so on - and she collected the agency's things like the jewelry I had borrowed.

After that she took me back to the agency where I finished settling up with Daniel. Unknown to Penny, Liz also came by to debrief me.

"So what went wrong?" Liz asked. I couldn't tell if she already knew and was testing me, or if she was really looking for information.

I frowned. "Someone must have recognized me at the courthouse," I said. "He knew that I had been there."

"Damn it," Liz said. "This is why I hate working with civilians."

"But I had to!" I defended myself. "I needed proof that he was rigging the jury so that you could stop it!" Then I added, "Paul got a phone call last night - someone told him someone was acquitted. Was that the Appleby case?"

"Yes," Liz said coldly.

"Why didn't you stop it?" I demanded. "It's too late now, right? Double jeopardy?"

"We had more important concerns." Liz was giving me an icy stare. Daniel was trying hard to pretend he wasn't there.

"More important?" I argued. "He nearly killed me for what I found out, and the FBI couldn't be bothered to protect the integrity of our courts?"

Liz got angry. "Listen little girl: Law enforcement is ugly. It's imprecise. We have limited resources and we have to make impossible decisions about where to apply them to accomplish the most good, and then we have to put on our suits and answer questions in front of comities while laymen like you second guess us. We've got a lot of moving pieces - more than any one person knows about. Most of the time we make it work - barely - as long as everyone follows their fucking orders!"

She took a breath to calm down, but that didn't stop her from grinding her teeth.

"All we needed from you was to report on who Paul met with. I thought I made that clear. Your extra-curricular investigation has complicated things for us greatly."

I was crying by then.

She sat down next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Lexi, you said he nearly killed you. I'm taking that seriously - I want to hear about it. But did you ever stop to think that you might be putting other human sources in danger?"

I was aghast at the thought. "Did I?" I asked soberly.

"I don't know," Liz said. "I wouldn't know. But it's possible."

I told Liz the whole story and signed some papers for her and Daniel. They both want me out of the city as quickly as possible, so I've got a red eye flight home in a little while. I'm in the airport now.

I did earn a very nice paycheck for the time I spent as Paul's "girlfriend". I dare say I haven't endeared myself to the FBI. I'm not sure if I even want to work for them any more.