Author: Bulgroz the Third
Title: The Adjusters #23 - Agent Shawbank
Keywords: MF, mc
Posted: December 1, 2011
Edited: December 1, 2011




			  The Adjusters #23


			    Agent Shawbank



Daniel sat back in his chair, catching some sun, a large coffee before
him. So much for green tea. It's caffeine time, he reflected. The
temperature was a rather normal springtime temperature, giving some
hope that while the winter had been unseasonably warm--to the horror
of winter sports amateurs--the summer might not follow that trend. As
it was, he was nearly alone on the outdoor seating of the Darnell
Cafe, the campus still relatively quiet in the mid-morning hour.

The events of the previous night kept bouncing around in his head:
running into Jenn at the diner, fighting with Biff, having sex with
Cindy, talking to her afterwards. Amazing how much one can pack into
an evening. He had not yet entirely sorted his feelings about it all,
swimming instead within a numbness that undoubtedly hid deeper,
harsher feelings.

He had run the evening over and over in his head, returning again and
again to the post-coital conversation with Cindy that helped explain
not only the events earlier in the evening, but also much of what had
been happening to him and his friends since the previous autumn. And
after the shock of seeing Jenn again after two months--a Jenn almost
unrecognizable from the one he had know--what had floored him was that
he had been right. Incredibly, he had been right. Jenn was being
manipulated. Controlled. Mastered. Early on, he had latched onto the
mind-control idea simply to avoid looking at the uglier possibility
that she had dumped him because she was scared or confused or simply
did not love him. But that idea, as emotionally attractive as it
was--Jenn not in control of her action, therefore innocent--he had had
to dismiss intellectually as pure science fiction, especially after
looking into available techniques for his senior project. And yet, if
Cindy was to be believed, it was all true. Somehow, the boys of Delta
Iota Kappa had gotten their hands on a frighteningly effective way to
control girls, and had used it to ensnare Cindy, Serena, and now
Jenn. It was crazy. If not for having seen how Jenn herself had
behaved, he would not believe it even now.

And Biff was controlling Jenn--the worst case scenario. Daniel shook
his head. He had to get her out of there. Somehow. But what could he
do? Go to the police? According to Cindy, they could not be
trusted. She had told him that Kevin--the fraternity president--had an
in with the chief of police. That same chief we went to see months
ago. Did he know even then what was going? If not the police, then
what? The University? The fraternity? Maybe he should go confront
Kevin again. But to tell him what? Getting angry and venting might do
some good to his morale, but would certainly not get the fraternity to
stop. In fact, again according to Cindy, Kevin had contemplated
getting rid of Daniel--what that meant was unclear, but could not have
been good--and only Jackson had stepped in to protect Daniel. What
about Jackson--another piece of the puzzle to be figured out. Friend
or foe? Cindy said he was a good guy, if confused and needing to be
nudged in the right direction. Maybe. Which brought Daniel back to the
initial question: what to do about Jenn? Find her and bring her back,
using force if necessary? That would require getting her away from
Biff and his thugs. To do that, he needed a plan. That was one thing
he needed to talk to Radhu about, the one person he truly trusted.

What about Cindy? Was she to be trusted herself? On the one hand, she
did admit to having a crush on him, and she did tell him pretty much
exactly what he wanted to hear. On the other hand, if she had wanted
him to herself, she would have told him that Jenn had left him
willingly instead of telling him that Jenn was acting against her
will, a move that pretty much ensured that Daniel would seek to rescue
his fiancee. So if Cindy was lying, then her motivations were utterly
opaque to him.

And what about that whole bit about the medallion and its effect on
her? Was it true? She had been much more aggressive than he ever
remembered her being last night after she had put the medallion around
his neck. The only other time she had ever been so forward was at that
NADA party the previous semester, where she had also put the medallion
around his neck. Again, he had to take it at face value, since he had
no rational explanation for why she would be lying about that.

Thinking about Cindy and her medallion made him think about sex with
Cindy. The sex had been amazing--he had not realized how much he
missed being close to a warm female body. Granted, he felt guilty as
all hell about it this morning--especially after learning that Jenn
had not in fact dumped him, at least not willingly. But he could not
deny that he had enjoyed it, all of it. The memory of sliding into
Cindy's welcoming pussy made his cock throb. Between that and the
arousal he still felt at Jenn's performance at the dinner last night,
looking like a million dollars and exuding sex from every beautiful
pore of her body, well, he was one turned on and confused fellow.

He shook his head to clear it, and finished his coffee. Despite the
confusion, there was one thing of which he was sure. He loved
Jenn. And he would find a way to snatch her away from that
monster. The only thing that kept him from going crazy was Cindy's
assurance that Jenn was unaware of what she was forced to do, and that
obeying had the side effect of bringing pleasure. At least, she was
not suffering.

And now he had to go to class and then stop by Radhu's to let him know
what he had learned.

He was dropping his used mug in the return bin when he chanced a look
inside the cafe, and stopped. There she was again--the woman that he
had noticed a few times around campus already. Deep black hair,
leather coat, always alone and silent. She was drinking from a bottle
a carbonated water, and seemed to be looking at nothing in
particular. And yet he felt she knew perfectly well that he was
staring. He hesitated, then opened the door to the cafe.

The woman did not move when he walked up to her. When he stopped by
her table, she finally turned her head and looked at him. She had
piercing grey eyes. Where Jenn's grey eyes were warm, these were
cold. She was utterly calm as she considered him, but part of him--an
old, instinctive part of him--wanted to run, fast and far. He
remaining standing, suddenly unsure of what to say now that he was
there.

"May I help you?" she asked. She had a hint of an accent, very subtle,
at the edge of perception. With the sharp angles of her face, he
figured she must have had some Eastern European ancestry.

"I should be the one asking you that exact same question. I've seen
you around a lot. Are you following me?"

There was a hint of a smile creeping at her upper lip. She was
striking, he noted. The way the edge of a katana was striking. "Why
would I be following you?"

"You tell me. Given how messed up my life's been lately, I wouldn't be
surprised by anything anymore."

She looked at him for several seconds, her grey eyes showing no
emotion. She reached inside her coat, pulling out a photograph and
sliding it across the table towards him. "Do you know this man?"

He looked at the photograph. A man in his early thirties, good
looking, wearing a lab coat, his expression carefully neutral. It
looked like a picture taken for an identification card. It took him a
few seconds to recognize the man, given the different context. This
was the man he had seen tackling Marjorie into a limousine the
previous semester, the man he had seen with Marjorie at the NADA
party. Snowman.

"Who wants to know?"

She flipped open a wallet, showed him a badge. "Agent Eve
Shawbank. FBI. This man is a person of interest in a case I'm
currently investigating. Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle. I know he's on
campus, and I am trying to locate him. And thus I repeat my question:
do you know this man?"

Doctor, thought Daniel. Interesting. "I've seen him before. Last
semester. With a friend of a friend. Never talked to him. What did he
do?"

"I can't tell you that, Mister Malcolm. But I can tell you that this
man is dangerous. Do you happen to know his whereabouts?"

"How do you know my name?"

"It's my job to know, Mister Malcolm. I am aware of the connection of
this man to one Miss Marjorie Duquesne, which I suppose is the friend
of a friend you were referring to. Have you seen him recently?"

"No," replied Daniel, "I haven't."

"I would like to emphasize the importance of any information I can
glean on this individual, Mister Malcolm. Are you certain?"

"Yes. I have not seen him since late last November. There was a party
thrown by the New American Deal Association. I spotted him from
afar--he was with Marjorie. Miss Duquesne. But I lost track of him as
the evening progressed." He did not mention the reason--pandemonium
erupting as Marjorie collapsed on the makeshift stage.

"Anything else you might want to tell me about this individual?"

"I was told his name was Snowman, and that he might have connections
to the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity." He did not explain what that
connection was. He's likely the guy that steals girls and programs
them to be sex slaves.

"Is that it?"

"That's it."

Shawbank looked at him cooly for a few more seconds before sliding a
business card across the table. "Here's my card. Please call me if you
come across anything else. I would be most grateful."

"Sure. Mind if I keep the picture? You know, in case I spot him or
something? I can keep my eyes open."

"Of course, Mister Malcolm. Thanks for your help."

"No problem. See you around."

"Yes, Mister Malcolm. See you around."


				* * *


Daniel had a lot to tell Radhu when he saw him that afternoon. Radhu
listened attentively as Daniel summarized what he had learned from
Cindy the night before regarding the activities of the Delta Iota
Kappa fraternity and the programming performed by this doctor--which
Daniel now believed was none other than Snowman himself.

Radhu listened with an eye on one of the larger monitors he had
mounted on the wall of his apartment and to which he was streaming
some random science-fiction movie. Daniel resisted the urge to snap at
his friend to pay more attention, knowing that Radhu was in fact
paying attention. Somehow, Radhu's enforced isolation had exacerbated
his need to multitask, as if his excess physical energy needed an
outlet, and he had been taking advantage of this turn of event to
indulge his love of cheap sci-fi fare. Daniel had a flash that perhaps
he should talk to Cindy about setting up her roommate with his friend.

"And you believe what Cindy has recounted?" where the first words out
of Radhu's mouth once he had digested the information.

"I lean towards it, yes. I mean, why would she lie? I can't figure out
an angle."

"Mmm. It is true that her own selfish motives would steer her away
from those exact revelations, which will only serve to make you more
determined to get back your ex-fiancee. Then again, I am always the
first to be utterly surprised by the lack of rationality exhibited by
human beings, so who really knows what she is thinking. Here is
another hypothesis: what if she is being controlled to tell you what
she has told you?"

"Huh, okay. But again, why? Whoever did that would have wanted to
direct me away from looking more deeply into Delta Iota Kappa, no?"

"You are assuming that whoever hypothetically controlled Cindy into
making those revelations wishes to hide the activity of the
fraternity. What if their goal is to expose them, and making you their
vanguard in that endeavor is their approach?"

"That's a whole lot of speculation heaping up there. What is it that
you often tell me, Occam's razor?"

"Lex parsimoniae--the simplest explanation is often the right one. I
accept your argument. Although there remains the puzzle of exactly how
that doctor managed to program those women."

"No clue. Cindy doesn't know either. That's why she was doing that
project with me--trying to figure that out herself. She guesses a
combination of drugs, and something called neuro-cortical
stimulation." Radhu nodded at that, not surprised. "But nothing we've
covered, including some of the links you gave us, really matches the
effects that she described."

"I second that assessment. Even the classified results of some of the
post-MKUltra projects do not report anything even remotely like the
kind of control that Cindy described."

"I'm not going to even ask you how you have access to classified
results."

"It is assuredly appropriate that you do not inquire."

"Anyways. So our best bet then seems to be finding that doctor, and
getting him to tell us how to deprogram those girls. And then we find
Jenn and get her out of there. In either order."

"I have not been able to locate Jennifer or Biff on campus since the
last observation at the Student Center that I replayed for you, but I
will attempt to narrow down likely locations for them based on credit
card activity and other flags. The approach did not yield results when
Jennifer first disappeared, but conceivably Biff is now less
vigilant. As far as the doctor is concerned, my software has been
unable to locate him at all, but whether that is because he is not
around campus or anywhere covered by a networked wireless camera, or
because we do not have a description of him that the software can
effectively use, I cannot venture a guess."

"This may help, then." Daniel handed Radhu the photograph he had taken
from Agent Shawbank earlier.

"That it would," replied Radhu after looking at the photograph. "Where
did you acquire this?"

Daniel told him about his encounter with the FBI agent earlier that
morning. Radhu listened, while looking at a Saturday-morning villain
attempting to reanimate a corpse on the large screen.

"Why did you not apprise her of the information Cindy imparted?"

"Honestly? Because I want to find this doctor before anyone else
does. I want him to tell me how to reverse what was done to Jenn--"

"If anything was done to Jennifer--"

"That doctor will be able to tell me either way."

"That is risky. We are talking about federal law enforcement here. I
would not be surprised that charges of obstruction of justice are
applicable in this instance. "

"Well, if I do find him, I will call this agent. But not before I have
a chat with him. Are you still with me?"

Radhu nodded. "Of course. You should know that. I was just voicing a
devil's advocate opinion. I will scan this photograph and input it
into my facial recognition algorithm. That should most definitely
speed up the search."

Daniel thought for a second. "Do you keep past feeds from the camera?"

"Yes. Everything that has been coming in I have archived in a bank of
hard drives that I purchased a year ago and had no thought regarding
its potential utility. I was going to re-execute the recognition
software over those past feeds, although it will take a nontrivial
amount of time. There is a lot of data."

"I have an idea. Cindy told me that before the doctor disappeared, he
had been running an experiment on Serena, one that seemed to enthuse
him quite a bit."

"Intriguing. What sort of experiment?"

"Cindy didn't know. But she did say that he kept a close eye on
Serena. What I'm thinking is that perhaps the good doctor has been
keeping an eye out for Serena even after going into hiding, to see how
is experiment is going. If he's even half the scientist you are, he
would not have dropped a running experiment without at least
attempting to see it through."

"Indeed. So you are thinking perhaps of isolating footage we have of
Serena and cross-referencing with this photograph to see if she has
met with the doctor at any point?"

"Pretty much. Is that possible? Then again, scanning through for
footage of Serena in the stored feeds is probably just as difficult as
scanning through for footage of the doctor directly, so maybe there's
no gain..."

Daniel's voice lingered when he saw how red Radhu had become. The tall
Indian was blushing furiously, and seemed to be studiously
concentrating on the movement of a badly-coordinated reanimated
creature lumbering towards a wailing woman on the large
monitor. Daniel could not help smile.

"Don't tell me--you've already isolated all of Serena's footage,
haven't you?"

Radhu did not even bothering answering, and only blushed harder.

"Good, that should make it easier, then," continued Daniel, still
smiling.

Radhu nodded, riveted on the scene on the big screen.

"For the record, Radhu my friend, you are sick. You're just lucky I
know you're utterly inoffensive."

Radhu's redness did not fade, but he smiled weakly at this jab.

Daniel grasped his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I've been
so caught up in my stuff that I didn't think how it might affect
you. Of course, Serena's also part of this mess. How are you feeling?"

Radhu took a moment before turning to look at Daniel. "I have been
observing Serena these last few months, as you accurately inferred,
and notwithstanding an increased sexual proclivity, she has not
appeared harmed or unhappy, and therefore I am not negatively impacted
by what is going on. Especially, if we are to believe Cindy, if Serena
is not aware of her actions. My assumption is that whatever you
discover that might help Jennifer can effectively be used to help
Serena."

"Still, knowing that those Delta Iota Kappa guys... I mean... you must
have seen her with them. Can't be easy."

Radhu shrugged. "Daniel, Serena has been sexually active for the whole
period of time I have known her, as you are well aware, and has not
been shy about regaling us with accounts of her adventures. These last
few months have been no different in that respect. I have grown
accustomed to these developments, and have so far been capable
of--shall I say--take them in stride."

"I'd argue the situation's a bit different now."

"If we are not careful, we shall soon devolve into a discussion about
the concept of free will, and while such a dialogue might be bracing
for the soul, we are unlikely to resolve an issue that has led to both
Erasmus and Luther producing some of their most intriguing work while
disagreeing until the end. Instead, while we are on the topic of risky
behavior involving circumventing legal pronouncements, I should ask
you--do you still want me to proceed with my surreptitious attempts at
exploring the fraternity's computer network?"

"What? Oh, right, that. I don't know. Perhaps we should put that on
hold for the time behind. I mean, we already found out much of what we
need to know from Cindy. We don't need to risk it. Maybe if we don't
find the doctor, or if whatever Cindy told me turns out to be wrong,
then we can go back to that plan." Daniel stopped when he saw Radhu's
expression. "But clearly you seem to think differently."

"You make good points, but I advocate that I continue my attempts at
electronic infiltration. Part of the reason is that if we table the
plan and decide to return to it later, important information might
have been deleted. As a contingency, we should proceed, and in the
worst possible case, we obtain redundant information that simply
confirms what we already have knowledge of."

"Rad, in the worst possible case, we get caught and end up in a heap
of trouble."

"Then it behooves me to ensure that we do not get caught, does it
not?"

Daniel smiled and shook his head. There was no reasoning with his
clever friend, sometimes. Then he looked at him with a small
suspicion. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Whatever might you mean?"

"Why are you so gung-ho to go and hack into Delta Iota Kappa?"

"As I told you, I simply am implementing a contingency plan. You are
becoming paranoid." He paused and looked at Daniel. "Between that and
my nascent agoraphobia, we make a rather dysfunctional pair of heroic
figures, do we not?"

"Yeah. Yay us."

Radhu stood. "Then how about you scan this photograph in, and I can
proceed with searching the archival footage for this doctor?"

Daniel nodded, happy to be doing something. After this, he would be
left again with nothing to do but wait. He was getting tired of it.

 
				* * *


Kevin Cusker, president of Delta Iota Kappa, fidgeted in his
chair. The meeting had been scheduled for ten minutes earlier, and he
knew full well that he was kept waiting on purpose, which angered him
and worried him equally.

The administrative assistant to the President of Darnell University, a
beautiful dark-skinned brunette sitting at a desk across from Kevin
and guarding the door to the president's office, smiled at the young
man.

"President Calhoun should not be too long, sir."

Kevin struggled to respond to the glorified secretary with a relaxed
smile. He really wanted to wring her neck. He took a deep breath to
calm himself down. Jeez, Kev, what's the matter with you? Where should
he even begin to answer that question? Two months had elapsed since
Biff going solo and snatching a girl he had no business snatching, and
Bernie ending up dead in the fraternity's own basement. Two months
during which nothing happened--which was part of the problem. Doctor
Cargyle was still incommunicado somewhere--maybe even dead himself,
for all Kevin knew, the thought too worrying to contemplate--and
Kevin's brothers were getting restless at the lack of fresh
girls. Ungrateful fucks.

And now rumor had it that Biff was back in town, with his little pet,
two weeks before this year's DIK-Bash, when fraternity alumni came
back to campus to party with the current members, networking and
recruiting and generally having a lot of fun. Unless Biff decided to
cause waves. And now, the university president himself wanted to see
him.

Five minutes later, the assistant's phone rang, and after a brief
exchange, she stood up. "The president is ready to see you now, Mister
Cusker."

She opened the door for him. Kevin entered the lavishly decorated
office of the university president. The president himself, a towering
man even when he was not standing, was sitting behind his
desk. President James Calhoun, the first African-American president of
Darnell University, had climbed the administration ranks from
Professor of Political Science to Dean of the College of Arts and
Sciences to jump to the presidency in record time in the university's
history. The president acknowledged Kevin with a look, then his eyes
lingered for a moment too long over his administrative
assistant. "Thank you, Cassie."

"You're welcome, Mister President. I need to remind you about your
three-thirty meet-and-greet over at Barley Hall."

"Of course. Can you get me a cheat sheet of who's going to be there
and why I should care about them?"

"Already done, sir. You can pick it whenever you are ready."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Cassie."

Cassie simply nodded, then closed the door behind her. Calhoun kept
staring at the door for a few seconds before turning his attention to
Kevin, who had sat down on one of the two chairs available to visitors
in front of the large oak desk.

The two men stared at each other. After a minute of tense silence,
Kevin lowered his eyes. Calhoun spoke up three seconds later. "Mister
Cusker. Nice of you to pay a social call."

"How are you, Mister President?"

"Same old, same old. Students want this, faculty wants that, and no
one thinks about how much it costs--they want, want, want, and I am to
be the golden goose that keeps delivering the goods with might and
magic."

Kevin nodded, knowing better than to interrupt the president on his
usual rant.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Yes I did. I wanted to make sure you and I were on the same
page."

"About what?"

"I seem to recall that soon you will be hosting a gathering of current
and previous members of your fraternity."

"That's correct." This was all pure formality, as far as Kevin was
concerned. The president was of course well aware of the weekend-long
party that the fraternity threw every year for the alumni and as a
matter of fact had asked to be kept up to date at all stages of the
planning to ensure that the weekend was free and to ensure that
communication between the fraternity and the Office of Alumni Affairs
flowed freely. The president had also secured an invitation to the
private by-invitation-only gathering that opened the weekend
festivities.

"I want to emphasize that your fraternity will be entertaining some of
our more successful alumni," continued Calhoun. "Alumni on which this
University counts to maintain our endowment, especially in this
difficult economy. It is of the utmost importance that they be treated
like royalty, Mister Cusker. Are we together?"

"Like royalty. Yes sir."

"I want them to leave the campus Sunday night flushed with how
wonderful their Alma Mater is, and ready to give generously to
maintain that wonderfulness. This is my priority, Mister Cusker, which
makes it your priority."

"Our priority. Yes sir. I trust we can make them happy, sir. It is in
the frat's own interests for them to have as good a time as possible."

"Damn right it is in your frat's interests to make them happy. Because
if I hear even a single complaint, get just one whiff of an incident,
you will not only find yourself without the benefit of my benevolent
support, Mister Cusker, but I may well judge that a thorough
investigation into your activities is in order. Are we together,
Mister Cusker?"

"Like velcro, sir."

Calhoun stared at Kevin as if trying to ascertain whether the younger
man was mocking him. "I do not need to remind you, I am sure, that my
intervention was necessary a few months ago to help quell that nasty
little business of a disappearing coed? One Miss Hansen, who happens
to be the fiancee of a student in my own department?"

"I have not forgotten, sir. Your help was invaluable."

"Damn right it was. And before that, there was that whole NADA
fiasco. Again, my intervention was helpful."

"Yes sir, it was." Kevin elected not to point out that getting rid of
the New American Deal Association had been in the interest of the
University as a whole.

"I sincerely hope that none of this suggests that you are unable to
control your fraternity, Mister Cusker. A general that cannot command
his troops is a poor general. Historical precedents are numerous. I am
drawing your attention to these events to emphasize two points. The
first is that you seem to have become careless, and I will
unfortunately not be able to continue smoothing your path if you
decided to keep to this trajectory. The second is that you are in my
debt, Mister Cusker, and I seek to collect."

Here we go, thought Kevin. Took long enough. "I can assure you that
the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity is at your disposal should you require
its services."

Calhoun looked at Kevin steadily for a long moment, this time trying
to judge the extent to which the student's flattery was purely for
show.

"Very well," said Calhoun at last. "I have a request to make of you. I
would like you to--what should the correct term be here?--turn a
certain person around with your fraternity's... powers of persuasion."

Kevin groaned inside, working hard to hide his reaction from
Calhoun. In other words, he wants us to program someone. Not entirely
unexpected, but shitty timing nonetheless. Nils guessed it right. I'm
going to have to thank him. His vice-president, who had been the main
go-between with the President Calhoun, had predicted that the
president would soon ask for their services, and had gone so far as
predicting the intended victim.

"And who do you have in mind, if I may be so bold to ask?"

Calhoun looked at him in silence once more, and narrowed his
eyes. "You understand that none of what I'm to say must leave this
room?"

Kevin nodded. "I dearly hope this entire conversation never leaves
this room, sir."

Calhoun barked a laugh, almost making Kevin jump in surprise. I'm a
nervous wreck, he thought. I gotta take it easy.

"Good point, Mister Cusker. Very well. You have met her." He lowered
his voice. "Miss Cassandra Reynolds, my young and utterly adorable
administrative assistant. I'm sure you noticed how lovely dearest
Cassie is?"

Two for two, Nils. Well done. "She is indeed beautiful. And I am sure
an efficient assistant to boot."

Calhoun did not bite. "How soon can you... take care of her?"

What does he want me to do, kill her? Egg-walking time,
Kev. "Unfortunately, Sir, the technician in charge of... taking care
of people under our charge has had to take a leave of absence from our
fraternity--a family emergency called him away, cancer of a
parent. Terrible business. Terrible."

"And you have no one else who can perform such a... such an operation?
I find that difficult to believe."

"The process is extremely delicate and complex. I barely understand
the high-level idea myself. To be brutally honest, I do not trust the
rest of my brothers not to botch such an operation. Not for someone as
important as you, sir. No offense, of course, to the undergraduate
training this fine institution provides."

Another silent look from Calhoun. "I see." His tone had become
noticeably colder. "And when do expect your technician to be able to
resume his duties, Mister Cusker?"

"The sooner the better, sir. I shall inform you as soon as he
returns. But surely," and here Kevin was well aware that he was
sounding like a sycophant in a second-tier movie, "someone as powerful
and masculine as yourself need not rely on my services to seduce an
administrative assistant. I have it from good sources that you are
quite the ladies man."

Calhoun snorted. "Of course I do not need your help to seduce
Cassie. I've been sleeping with her for six months now. That's not the
issue. But while she is a phenomenal lover, she has started to
become--shall I say--clingy. She recently mentioned that she was
looking forward to making our liaison more official once I divorced my
wife. I do not need to tell you, Mister Cusker, that I have absolutely
no intention of leaving my wife. Cassie is getting ideas and attitudes
that are annoying today and will be problematic tomorrow. I want to
continue my tryst with her, but have no patience with the attendant
baggage. I trust you understand what I mean?"

"I do," replied Kevin. Like you didn't see it coming, you old
lecher. Why I should be the one to dig you out of your own mess I
don't know. Kevin sighed. He did owe one to the president, and the
president was collecting. Time to see if the plan he and Nils had
developed will prove satisfactory. Nils had seemed certain of it. "May
I offer an alternative, Sir?"

"What do you mean?"

"While we cannot quite have your assistant--Cassie--taken care of
until our technician returns, perhaps I can offer you a surrogate of
sorts?"

"A surrogate? You mean--"

"A young woman to take care of your needs, no questions asked, and
especially, no strings attached, no risks of emotional commitment, no
going Fatal Attraction on you. We have one suck woman that I believe
will suit you perfectly, and that I would be happy to make available
to you on a daily basis if you so wish, at a regular time we can
arrange later, and complete with a bullet-proof reason to be in your
presence."

Calhoun looked at him silently. Well, at least I got his attention,
Kevin thought. Perhaps this will work after all. Of course, I'll have
to to figure out which brother I can send every day to activate the
girl, because there's no way in hell I'm giving this guy a fraternity
ring. The police chief had managed to get Kevin to give him a ring,
but Kevin in return had convinced the chief that the trigger sentence
only worked on his little pet, Officer Gonzales. The police chief had
not pushed further. Plausible deniability, he had said--the less he
knew, the better.

"Who do you have in mind?" asked Calhoun. Hooked, thought Kevin. Now
pull him in slowly.

"She should already be in your waiting room, sir."

Calhoun frowned, then reached for his intercom. "Cassie, is there
anyone out there waiting for me?"

"Yes, Mister President. A Miss Banks, says she's here for the
interview."

Kevin stood. Thanks again, Nils. He did not know how his
vice-president had managed to convince Serena that the president was
willing to give her a series of exclusive interviews, and he did not
care. She was here, that was the important thing. Calhoun was looking
at him with a question in his eyes. Kevin shrugged as though the
answer was obvious. "Your cover story. An extended interview for an
in-depth article about your long and fruitful presidency. An interview
that will require daily meetings. I'll go get her. I'll be right
back."

Without hurrying, but without waiting for an acknowledgment, Kevin
went to the door and opened it. Serena was indeed sitting in the
waiting room, a high-heeled pump dancing at the tip of a nervously
bouncing crossed leg.

Smiling at the lovely Cassie Reynolds, who was looking at him with a
small frown wondering what was going on--she was clearly used to being
in control of the comings and goings in her little world--Kevin headed
towards Serena. Once again, he was struck by the beauty of the
reporter, beauty emphasized by the clothes she was wearing. Kevin was
not quite sure what the doctor had done to her beyond the usual
programming, but it had affected her sense of fashion. While remaining
perfectly tasteful, her clothes nevertheless highlighted the
remarkable body she possessed. And today was a perfect example; while
the grey jacket and skirt ensemble over a pale blue blouse was
elegant, the jacket was form fitting and the pencil skirt was short
and featured a long slit on the side that exposed a delectable nude
thigh. With a tall pair of heels and her hair in a high ponytail,
Serena was the very picture of professionalism, with a significant
gloss of sexual energy liberally applied.

She seemed surprised to see him emerge from the president's office,
but recovered nicely. Kevin smiled widely, gesturing towards the door
he had walked through. "Serena Banks! President Calhoun was just
telling me about you. Something about an interview?"

Serena stood up, flashing a good amount of leg, forcing Kevin to work
hard not to get distracted. "Kevin Cusker, president of Delta Iota
Kappa. A presidents' meeting, then? Anything interesting came up?"
Ever the journalist, thought Kevin.

"You might say that. Listen," and he leaned over after glancing around
as if he were about to impart a great secret to the reporter. "I am
your dick brother," he whispered, low enough that the administrative
assistant would not hear.

Serena's eyes shot down to the fraternity ring on Kevin's hand, and
she gave a small shiver as if the temperature in the room had dropped
suddenly. Before she could say anything, Kevin whispered again. "Don't
say a word. Act normally. Follow my lead."

He stepped back, and continued in his normal voice. "The president and
I were waiting for you, Miss Banks. We are looking forward to chatting
about the great opportunities that lie ahead in this new era of
partnership between this University and the Greek community on
campus."

Serena merely nodded, and Kevin had to force down a smile. This sort
of crap talk would have probably have made her burst out laughing and
replying something snarky, if not for her being under. Man, she's
hot. Okay, Kev, focus. Remember, this is important.

"After you," he told her, laying a hand on her back. Serena glided
across the waiting room towards the president's office, and Kevin
raised his eyebrows at Cassie--"what can you do?" the look said, "when
the boss says jump, you jump". Cassie stared at Serena with the look
of a woman seeing a rival enter the arena, and her eyes followed the
reporter across the room while a slight sneer tugged at her
lips. Kevin almost laughed, and thought that it was a shame that the
doctor was indeed unavailable because the image of the two beautiful
black women locked in a steamy sixty-nine, tongues lapping wildly at
each other's pussies, fingers penetrating every orifice, dark bodies
shiny with sweat, well, it was an image charged with much erotic
potential. He shook his head, and followed Serena into the president's
office, closing the door behind him

Calhoun stared transfixed at Serena, who stood in the middle of his
office, a pleasant smile on her face. Kevin made the
introductions. "Serena, I believe you know President James
Calhoun. President Calhoun, meet Serena Banks, reporter for the
Darnell Daily."

Calhoun started to say something, but had to clear his throat. "I... I
have met Miss Banks before. At some official University function or
other. A pleasure, Miss Banks." He circled his desk, hand extended.

Kevin rapidly leaned over to whisper in Serena's ear. "Serena, I want
you to treat President Calhoun like you would treat me, understood?"

Serena flashed him a look that highlighted exactly how well she
understood; the hunger in her eyes made him smile. She turned to
Calhoun. "The pleasure is all mine, sir. Definitely all mine." She
shook his hand, holding on a fraction of a second longer than
proper. Her emphasis on the word pleasure was not missed by the
president.

"Serena," continued Kevin, "you are here today to interview President
Calhoun. I expect you will do your usual thorough job. The article you
will be writing," and here Kevin had a stroke of inspiration, "is
about university presidents and their sexual fetishes. By the time the
hour is up, I expect you to know everything that makes President
Calhoun click."

President Calhoun started at Kevin's words, but Serena spoke before he
could say anything.

"Of course," replied Serena, turned her hungry gaze towards Calhoun,
her lips parted slightly, her breath short. "I'm so happy that you
agreed to answer my questions, Mister President. I'm so looking
forward to learning what turns on a man as strong and powerful as you
are." She glanced down meaningfully at his crotch.

The president's eyes had widened slightly, and they were now traveling
up and down Serena's body, taking in every curve and every square inch
of exposed flesh.

Good job, Nils, thought Kevin. You were right, he likes her. I guess
it's three for three now. You deserve a reward for that.

Serena took off her jacket, the movement thrusting her breasts against
her blouse, and the president seemed entranced by the sight. Kevin
shook his head, thinking that perhaps this would go even better than
he had hoped. Serena looked at the couch lining the wall of the large
office. "Shall we sit down? We should make ourselves comfortable for
the interview."

"Of course," replied Calhoun, snapping out of his reverie. "Please,"
he gestured. He then looked askance at Kevin, probably wondering
whether the fraternity president would remain in their company, and
undoubtedly somewhat worried about it.

Kevin had no intention of staying. Besides, he suspected, Serena would
probably work much more effectively by herself. "I believe I should
let you two go on. If today's interview is satisfactory, Mister
President, I trust we will be able to arrange a daily continuation of
this interview."

Calhoun nodded.

Kevin continued. "Wonderful. Serena, remember what I told you: you
treat President Calhoun as you would treat me. I would also suggest,"
he turned to Calhoun, "that you tell your administrative assistant
that you wish not to be interrupted during this interview."

Calhoun's eyes widened when he realized what Kevin was saying, and he
was on the intercom telling Cassie that he was not to be bothered for
any reason for the next hour when Kevin left his office and closed the
door behind him.

Cassie, the beautiful administrative assistant, frowned at Kevin as he
walked through the outer office. Kevin smiled sweetly, pleased with
himself.


				* * *


Calhoun sat on one of the one-seaters facing the couch, taking his
time and trying to calm down his frayed nerves. Cusker was gone,
leaving him with the beautiful, young--so terribly, terribly
young--and sexy dark-skinned reporter. Serena Banks, of the Darnell
Daily. He had met her, of course, but had never interacted with her
closely. His senior staff and advisors had ensured that he never did,
in a valiant hope that it might protect him from saying the wrong
thing at the wrong time. Somehow, they knew his weaknesses. And upon
seeing her up close, he had to acknowledge their wisdom.

He remained guarded, but allowed his eyes to travel down the luscious
girl's body, noting her beautiful face with her dark red lips, her
tight blouse hinting at a more than generous chest, her skirt that had
ridden up slightly to expose two long delectable legs crossed at the
knee, on which she rested a yellow notepad, and her spike heels, one
of them coming dangerously close to slipping off and dangling from the
tip of a perfect foot, as she lightly bounced her leg.

When he finally brought his eyes back up to her face, he saw her
smile, a smile that suggested she knew exactly what he had been
thinking and did not mind at all. Even after Cusker's assurances,
Calhoun was still unsure how this might go.

"Shall we start, Miss Banks?"

"Please, Mister President. Call me Serena."

"Very well--Serena."

"Let us start at the beginning, then. And I'm of course hoping that
you will answer my questions truthfully. It will make for a much
more... satisfying... interview."

"I shall do my best, Miss... I mean, Serena. Ask your questions."

"I know you like women. You have quite a reputation on campus, as you
are undoubtedly aware. I want to explore that aspect of your
personality in more depth. Would you say you prefer your women young
and innocent, or older and more mature?"

Calhoun raised an eyebrow. "We need to make something very clear,
Serena. If I am going to answer your questions, I do not expect those
answers to ever leave this room, understood?"

Serena's smile hinted at pleasures untold. "Mister President, this
interview is purely for personal use on my part." She winked. "Please
play along."

Calhoun took a deep breath. Did he trust Cusker? No. But then again,
he had already dipped his foot into the Delta Iota Kappa pool, and he
was already wet. Nothing that happened today would make things any
worse.

"I prefer younger women, Serena, but I would not go so far as saying I
like them innocent. Naughtiness is a pleasurable spice."

"I completely agree, Mister President. Please describe your ideal
young woman."

"Let me see. Early twenties? I generally like them tall and on the
slim side, but with nice curves. I don't mind when they're short, as
long as they are well proportioned. But also smart, funny, able to
carry a conversation. A woman with her own opinions."

Serena smiled. "No need to be politically correct, Mister
President. You will not offend me if you are brutally honest. Let me
be clear: does your ideal woman have long slim legs or strong thick
thighs? Does your ideal woman have nice big tits, or do you favor a
perkier handful? Does you ideal woman has wide hips and a generous
backside, or do you prefer tight little asses? White, black, Asian?
Blonde, brunette, redhead?"

Calhoun shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "You are very direct,
aren't you." He looked at the girl for a long moment, weighing his
options. She appeared so inoffensive, so beautiful, staring back at
him with her large brown eyes, her lips that looked so very wet. He
stole a glance at her foot, noting that her high heel still dangled
from her toes. He sighed softly. "Very well. If you really want to
know, then I prefer my women on the tall side, slim, with long legs,
but also generous curves--I like large breasts that overflow my hands,
breasts that you can hang on to for dear life. I prefer my women dark
skinned and dark haired, but even if white and blonde I'd never throw
a hot woman out of my bed. Why are you grinning?"

"Because I think you're flirting with me, Mister President. You
described me almost to a tee. Including my friends here." She
playfully shook her torso, before looking straight at him and
winking. "You also described your administrative assistant pretty
closely, if I remember correctly. Cassandra, isn't it? I was observing
her earlier, while I was waiting. She is a beautiful young woman,
that's for sure. I liked her dress--proper, but tight enough to
intimate the treasures she hides underneath. I'm sure students love to
come here just to get a peek at her. I wonder if she flirts with them
at all, if she gets wet knowing that they get hard just from looking
at her and imagining what it would feel like to push her against her
desk and flip her dress over her back and take her just like that,
from behind, her big tits squashed against the wood. Because I'm
pretty sure she has exactly the sort of big fat tits you like. Does
she, Mister President?"

Calhoun swallowed. His shaft had stiffened at Serena's words. It had
been way too easy to picture what she had described--he had taken
Cassie in just such a fashion many a time in his own office. At least,
when he wasn't... He swallowed again. Did Serena know that he was
having an affair with Cassie? How had she found out? Had Cassie talked
to her?

"She does seem to have a very nice chest," he replied, careful.

"You are being coy with me, Mister President. I find that very
endearing." She put the tip of her pen in her mouth, toying with it
with her tongue. "Now, I happen to believe you know exactly what
Cassandra's big fat tits look like. My next question is therefore, how
do my tits compare?"

Balancing her pad on her knee, Serena slowly unbuttoned her blouse,
revealing a lacy bra underneath barely covering her hardening
nipples. With a shrug of her shoulders, the blouse slid down. She
grabbed her breasts, squeezing them slightly, before gingerly reaching
for the clasp nestled between them. She unhooked her bra and let it
join the blouse next to her on the couch. She then grabbed her breasts
again, hefting them one after the other, squeezing them, tweaking the
nipples with long red fingernails. "So?" asked Serena, looking up at
him, her voice lilting innocently.

Calhoun stared unabashedly to the exposed flesh before him. Serena's
breasts were sensational, he thought--nice and round and with big
aureolas just the way he liked them. They did remind him very much of
Cassie's, except that the administrative assistant had short but wider
nipples, while Serena's were long and seemed exceedingly easy to
arouse. The desire to kneel before her and suckle on the offered
mammaries grasped him by the throat and threatened to choke him. He
swallowed before responding. He could feel how flushed his face was.

"They are... You are really beautiful, Serena." He had some difficulty
pulling his gaze off her chest to look at her in the eyes.

"Thank you. But that's not what I asked. Are my tits as nice as
Cassandra's? I mean, mine are large but firm, and the skin is very
soft, as you can imagine. And I love it when a man plays with
them--I've been known to come just by having my nipples nibbled on,
did you know that? Are Cassandra's big and firm too, and so very
sensitive? Does she let you suck on them to your heart's content? Does
she let you slide your big cock between them, spurting all over them?"

"All I know," replied Calhoun, trying to regain a measure of control,
"is that I would not mind at all sucking on your breasts."

Serena smiled, kneading her breasts slightly. "Oh, I bet you said that
to all the pretty girls that jiggle their big tits in front of your
face, Mister President. Very well, let us continue. So clearly, you
enjoy women's breasts. But would you say you are a tit man or an ass
man, Mister President? What about legs?"

"I would say that I am an equal opportunity ogler, to be honest."

"Really? In my experience, men do really prefer one or the
other. Let's experiment." She put down her pad, and slowly stood up,
unfolding slowly like a model, at this point in the interview wearing
only her tight skirt, which had crept up her thighs while she was
sitting.

Calhoun ran his eyes down from her face to her waist--admiring the
toned stomach along the way, and how her lower torso curved perfectly
into her waist--and then down her long legs to her pretty feet perched
in her heels.

Serena let him look at his leisure, waiting for his eyes to trail back
up her legs to slowly pull up her skirt further, uncovering her thighs
completely, just as she put a foot forward in a model's pose.

Calhoun's eyes tracked the creeping hemline, waiting for the moment
when a peek of panties would show, and was rewarded by a glimpse of
pure white between the dark thighs of the reporter. The skirt kept
rising, unveiling a white triangle of material hiding what must have
been an aroused pussy judging by the clearly visible darkening
stain. That Serena was turned on by the events made Calhoun's heart
beat even faster.

When her skirt was up around her waist like a large belt, Serena spoke
up again. "So do you like my legs, Mister President?"

"They are perfect."

"Well thank you. And my ass?"

Keeping one eye on Calhoun, Serena turned around to reveal that she
was in fact wearing a thong, the thin strip of material nestled snugly
between her cheeks doing nothing to mar what Calhoun recognized was a
delightful rear looking as soft as her breasts had a moment earlier.

"Again, simply perfect. You should be a model, Miss Banks."

"I told you, Mister President, please call me Serena. And thank
you. What makes you think I'm not already modeling?"

The thought of Serena exposing her charms to a photographer made his
manhood twitch. He had often begged Cassie to pose for some naughty
pictures, something she had always refused to do.

As if she was reading his mind, Serena helpfully chimed in, her back
still turned to him, her legs spread a shoulder's width apart. "Maybe
I'll let you take some pictures of me, Mister President. Give you some
inspiration for those long lonely nights."

She turned back around, and took two steps forward. Calhoun was
looking down, saw her put one foot directly in front of the other,
like a cat stalking, still perched on those high heels of hers.

"I need to check the results of the experiment. Please excuse me." She
leaned down towards him, and pressed her hand lightly over his crotch,
gauging his hardness. Her touch felt good.

"I see. And if I do this?" She stood astride his lap, put her arms on
his shoulders, and bent down. The motion swung her breasts towards his
head, and she pressed them to his face, smothering him in warm tender
flesh. She shook her chest slightly, sending her breasts against his
cheeks and his mouth, and he reached up with a hand to palm a
bountiful mound.

When Serena straightened up, she smiled at him before leaning down
once more, and pressing her hand against his crotch. She grinned. "I
think the experiment was rather conclusive." As if she was well aware
of what he was feeling, she rubbed her hand slowly up and down against
his shaft through his pant.

With her skirt still rucked up around her waist, and her upper body
nude, Serena went back to her spot on the couch, and crossed her legs
again. Almost automatically she let one of her heels dangle from her
foot while she picked up her pad. Calhoun's eyes were drawn to it,
watching it swing back and forth, held only by the tip of Serena's
toes.

"Let's continue then, shall we? How about psychology? How do you like
your women, Mister President?"

He looked back at her, startled out of his reverie. "Pardon?"

"Do you like them aggressive? Passive? Do you like them to take
charge, or do you like them to submit to your desires? Do you prefer
them to straddle you and be all 'I'm gonna fuck your cock so raw that
it's gonna bleed before I milk all your cum with my cunt, you fuckin'
stud,' or do you prefer them lying back while they tell you softly to
'please be gentle with me when you ravish me, but if you want to do me
hard then I can't really stop you?' as they spread their legs
demurely?" She acted out the two styles with brio while she spoke.

"I... I like a woman who is secure in her sexuality, and is not afraid
to let me know what she likes."

Serena nodded. "Do you prefer your women to be brutally direct and go
for the kill, or do you prefer them to tease and draw out the arousal
as long as possible?"

Calhoun could not help picturing Serena in either scenario. "I guess
both have their advantages... I'd be hard pressed to choose." His eyes
returned to her dangling shoe.

"We may just have to run a few more experiments later to find out what
your real preferences are," said Serena, her voice suggestive. "Let's
move on. What about sex acts?"

"What about them?"

"Do you like to fuck, Mister President?" She put the tiniest bit of
emphasis on the word fuck, making sure to convey with the word a wide
range of images of herself satisfying a male in various positions.

"I... I have to say I do, yes."

"And what are you favorite sex acts? Oral sex? Vaginal sex? Anal sex?"

"I guess... I'm not sure how to answer that question. I mean, I do
enjoy a wide variety of... sex acts, as you call them, and I would be
hard pressed to spotlight a favorite..."

Serena looked at him with a naughty smile on her face. "As a capable
interviewer, it is my duty to try to elicit a precise answer from
you." She put her pad down, and brought her two legs together before
her. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Oral sex."

The way she said it forced him to look at her mouth, at her lips,
which seemed wetter now than they had been a few minutes
earlier. Calhoun, who thought of himself as able to maintain control
through anything, was feeling that control slip away slowly.

"Tell me, Mister President, how do you feel about blow jobs? Do you
like it when a woman takes your..." she looked down at his crotch,
"tool in her mouth? Wraps her lips around it and sucks it in? Take me,
for example. In an ideal world, how would you want me to do it?
Slowly, lovingly, diving in and out onto your cock while looking at
you straight in the eyes with adoration in mine?" She gave him such a
look now, her mouth open just enough to suggest the act she was
describing.

She stood up from the couch, unfolding her beautiful body once more,
allowing his eyes to roam over her curves. She still had her skirt
bunched around her waist, her white thong the only thing really
covering any part of her body. She took a step towards him,
slowly. "Or would you like me to be more aggressive, to gobble up your
cock and bob my head up and down fast and hard, sucking as much as I
can, slobbering all over you as I try to cram you as far into my mouth
as I can?"

She stopped right in front of him, and without breaking eye contact
she sank to her knees between his legs. Her hands immediately went to
his belt. "Or perhaps you prefer being the one in charge? Many men
love that. Is that how you like your blow jobs, Mister President?
Would you like me to just open my mouth so that you can fuck it--fuck
it hard, like a sloppy cunt, shoving your cock deep down my throat,
choking me, while I'm pinned down, helpless?"

Calhoun grunted, and felt Serena's hand close on his erect shaft. She
smiled broadly as she pulled back the foreskin, revealing his engorged
glans.

"I... How about you decide what you would like to do," he said, his
breath short. Her fingers were moving slowly, softly, sending
delicious sensations up his groin.

"I can do that. Of course, this brings us back to the previous
question--do you prefer a direct approach, or do you like to be
teased?"

Still smiling, she blew on the head of his manhood, which jerked in
response. Calhoun leaned back in his seat, enjoying the sensation. She
blew again, and he reacted even more strongly. "I guess there's my
answer," she whispered.

She pursed her lips, and approached them from the throbbing tip in her
hand. She made as if to kiss it, only to stop and exhale her warm
breath on it. Calhoun groaned. She then lightly ran the tip of her
tongue over the sensitive skin, making him shiver.

She licked a long time, slowly, lovingly, her eyes trained on his,
giving the impression that she was based her actions on his reactions,
which probably was not far from the truth. When Calhoun thought he
could not take any more, she seemed to sense it and let his shaft
slide between her lips, and took it almost to the hilt into her mouth,
her cheeks sinking in as she sucked hard. Calhoun gasped, and clenched
the arms of his seat.

She kept him in her mouth for a long time, her eyes fastened on his,
her tongue dancing on his shaft as she sucked it, before she let him
slowly slip out. She went back to teasing the tip again, her fingers
slowly stroking the now-slicked shaft. When she felt him needing to
thrust in again, she slipped him inside once more. She kept that
rhythm for several minutes--not fast enough to make him come, but not
slow enough for him to retreat from the edge of arousal.

When Calhoun was nearly out of his mind with the desire to come, when
he was almost to the point where he was ready to beg her to do him
hard, she straightened up, leaving only two fingers gently stroking
his vibrating manhood.

"Normally, at this point, I would get on your lap and let you slide
that bad boy all the way up my dripping cunt--" Calhoun grunted at the
thought, "and then I'd slide my ass back and forth while you're deep
inside me as you sucked on my big tits, but..."

"But?" Calhoun was shaking.

"But I have a better idea. I think I know what you like, Mister
President. However hard you seem to want to hide it."

She stood up, making sure her breasts brushed his knees on the way up,
and turned around to walk back to the couch. Calhoun's eyes were
fastened to her ass as she made her way back to her seat.

She sat down, and pulled off her thong by lifting her legs
together. She leaned back, spreading her legs wide, offering him an
unfettered view of her pussy, which he could see was wet with
arousal. She was shaved bare, one of the many things he secretly
enjoyed.

Her eyes fixed on him--her gaze seemed to be peering deep into his
soul, he realized almost with a start--she ran her thong through her
slit, wiping off the excess juices. Without missing a beat she tossed
him the underwear, which he caught in mid-air. She smiled when he
brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. The material was soaked;
the smell was musky, the smell of a woman in heat. His manhood jerked
again. Serena saw it, grinned, then brought her left hand down between
her legs and ran a finger over her pussy lips. It came away wet. She
beckoned him with it. "Come here, Mister President."

Calhoun did not even bother trying to resist the call. This is what
you signed up for, wasn't it, James? Now just go get it. He stood up
and stepped out of the pants that had pooled at his ankles, then took
the three steps to the couch, his manhood bobbing before him with
every movement. He was debating whether to ask her to move so that he
could lie on top of her or move forward so that he could sink into her
by bending down, when she stopped him.

"Hold it. Down on your knees. I want to feel your tongue up my
cunt. You like eating pussy, Mister President?"

Calhoun stopped for a moment, looked at the offering before him, and
slowly sank to his knees. He heard Serena coo and spread her legs
further. He put his hands on her thighs, appreciating the softness and
firmness of her skin. He could smell her from where he was, and the
smell was getting to him. He leaned forward, slowly. Serena's hands
were in his hair, caressing--he wanted to tell her to not disturb the
hair, but she was pulling him in close, and soon his hair was the last
thing on his mind.

"Get your lips down my... oh yes, that's it, right there! Ooooh!"

He inhaled her fragrance deeply before his lips made contact with her
engorged labia, and he felt her shiver underneath him, and clutch his
head tight. When he experimentally ran his tongue through her slit, he
found her gushing, and the musky taste made his tongue tingle.

He licked with long swipes of his tongue along her labia and made sure
to swipe her clitoris with every stroke, something Serena seemed to
enjoy if her moans and the clenching of her hands on his scalp were
indications to go by. When he pushed his tongue into her pussy as far
as it would go, she groaned loudly and hooked her legs over his
shoulder, the spike heels of her shoes digging into his back and
sending a jolt down to his shaft. He fucked her with his tongue as she
humped him.

"Oh god! Just like that! Deeper!" She ground her crotch into his face
hard, crushing his nose. "Do I taste as good as your Cassandra does?"
she asked. "I bet that pretty bitch has the sweetest tasting pussy
ever..." Another loud moan interrupted her, as Calhoun curled his
tongue deep inside her and seemed to hit a spot that was particularly
pleasurable. He felt her tunnel clench around him.

Serena humped him long and hard, and when he pulled out for a short
breather, he could feel his face drenched with her juices. "I'm so
fuckin' close," she groaned, tilting her pelvis upwards as much as
possible. "I want to come with your tongue in my ass!"

That did not sound like a request to Calhoun, but closer to an
order. It sent another spike of arousal down his body, and just as
Serena moved so that his mouth slid down nearer her anus, he
straightened out his tongue and thrust it through the tight ring of
her rear hole. Serena grunted loudly when he breached her sphincter,
and moaned when his tongue sneaked inside. "Oh yes! Oh that feels
amazing! Oh! That's it! Tongue my ass! Tongue my ass you bastard!"

Calhoun worried in some remote part of his brain about Cassie hearing
Serena who was not being particularly careful, but he was soon
distracted from such thoughts by the fact that Serena was now grinding
her groin hard against his face, humping his tongue and rubbing her
slit and her clitoris against his nose. He was having a hard timex
breathing, and the smell of her arousal was nearly overpowering--but
he kept his tongue stiff and let Serena pleasure herself with it. She
was moaning and tensing, her nails digging into his scalp.

"Gonna come! Gonna come!" she kept moaning like a mantra. "Gonna come
with your tongue up my ass! Gonna come all over your face! Harder!
Harder, dammit! Harder! That's it! Like that! Just... like... that!"

She came, hard, her whole body jackknifing like she was doing
crunches, pulling his head tight against her. Her sphincter kept
clenching open and closed around his tongue, and he could feel her
pussy pulsate in time through his nose, releasing a copious amount of
fluid.

While he was still recovering, catching his breath, his head still
spinning from the efforts and the fragrance of her effusions, Serena
straightened up and pressed against him, almost lifting him up so she
could kiss him, hard, her chest pressing against his shirt, her hands
pulling him close. She did not so much kiss him as lap up her juices
from his lips and his tongue and the inside of his mouth.

She let him go and fell back onto the couch, heaving a deep
sigh. "That was amazing," she said.

"You did seem to enjoy it," said Calhoun, pleased with himself.

"That I did." Her eyes were closed. She opened them slightly. "And I
think it's high time you enjoyed something too."

He made to stand up again, but a spike heel driven into his shoulder
stopped him. "Don't move," she said, her voice low with a vague mirth
underlying it. "I think I know what you really want."

Calhoun frowned, but was distracted by the heel of her shoe scratching
him down the side of his chest and digging into his stomach. He ran
his eyes up her long leg, bent at the knee, up to her breasts rising
and falling with each inhalation, and finally up to her eyes, that
were looking at him knowingly. She knows, he thought. Dear God! She
knows! Before he could react further, the tip of her other shoe gently
caressed his balls, and an uncontrollable shiver ran up his spine. The
pressure on his side, where Serena had been pressing her other heel,
alleviated, and he felt then heard her shoe drop to the ground after
hitting his thigh.

Calhoun held his breath, his eyes fixed on Serena's, unable to
move. This is how a deer feels when a car's careening towards him all
headlights blazing. He figured a deer would not sport an erection like
he was, though. He did not move. He did not dare move. He did not want
to.

Serena lifted her foot to his face, and he stared at it, his eyes
wide. It was just perfect, a perfect foot, and given how the rest of
her body had looked, he should not have been surprised. Delicate, with
a strong arch, and beautifully satiny skin, dark on the top, pale and
pink underneath. Her toenails were painted a deep red, the same color
as her lipstick, he noted without a conscious effort. He longed to
kiss that foot, the craving making him salivate. Her other foot, still
clad in her shoe, was gently playing with his balls. Calhoun did not
know where to pay attention, and his internal nervous system was
playing ping-pong between the two loci of activity on his body.

"Go ahead," Serena cooed, never losing her air of naughtiness, "suck
on them." She encouraged him with a gentle prod of her shoe on the
underside of his manhood. She wiggled her toes before his mouth,
waiting.

Calhoun's mind went blank. On full automatic, he let her toes slip
into his mouth, and he felt his shaft twitch and his testicles tighten
when he closed his lips on Serena's toes. She sighed and leaned
further back, supporting her leg with an arm.

Before too long, Calhoun was sucking on Serena's toes like tomorrow
was not worth living for. His hands were caressing her foot up to her
calf, kneading and squeezing and milking.

"There you go," she cooed, "suck them all, like a good boy. Suck on my
toes. Does you dear Cassandra lets you suck her toes and worship her
feet, Mister President? I bet she has the cutest little feet, all
delicate and sensitive and lady-like--the kind of feet that are just a
delight to lick and fondle, aren't they?"

Calhoun groaned, never letting up his sucking. Serena's words were
searing into his brain like the brand of a rancher. Cassie indeed had
beautiful feet--he had admired them often enough as he had sex with
her, once or twice had even kissed them lightly in the middle of the
act while she was on her back with her legs in the air and he was
kneeling between them penetrating her. But he had never worshipped
them like he was doing now--when he had subtly hinted at such an
activity a while back, under the guise of playfully questioning the
kinky sex they had had in the past and were hoping to experience in
the future, her reaction had convinced him that she would not be open
to such a possibility. In her words, no self-respecting man would
lower himself to slobbering over a woman's dirty feet to get off. He
had never brought it up again.

Serena seemed once again to read right into his mind. She pushed her
foot inside his mouth, forcing him to accept a lot more in. His tongue
danced on her toes. His saliva was dripping down her sole. "I don't
think Cassandra's the style to let you suck her toes, though," she
said, eyeing him carefully. "No, I think she'd think you're a
disgusting little boy for wanting to do that to her--is that it? She'd
look at you thinking you're a little pervert that gets off on women's
feet, wouldn't she? And she wouldn't be too far from the truth, would
she?" She grinned.

And then Calhoun felt it--while he was busy drooling all over Serena's
toes, he felt her other foot press against his tumescent shaft. She
had shed her other shoe, and was rubbing his manhood up and down with
the sole of her foot. His primal brain went into overdrive, and not
only did he suck harder, he started to hump her foot, seeking more
friction. Serena giggled. "Oh yes, our dirty little boy here likes to
feel my little footsie on his hard dickie, doesn't he? Are you going
to come on my foot, you dirty little boy?" She rubbed harder, and
Calhoun almost choked as he was unable to concentrate on swallowing
his excess saliva while Serena's foot wiggled in his mouth.

"I think I can help you come, you filthy boy. Here," she pulled her
foot out of his mouth and--keeping her other foot firmly pressed
against his groin--straightened up on the couch and brought her
breasts to his face. "Suck on my big titties now--go on, suck hard and
make them all wet."

Unable to resist anything anymore, overwhelmed, he did as she asked,
taking one of her hard nipples between his lips and drooling all over
it as he sucked hard. Serena moaned, squashed his head against her
breast, and resumed the rubbing of his shaft with her foot. Soon her
other foot joined in as well, and Calhoun was astonished to find
himself sucking on the school hottest reporter's breast while she gave
him a world-class foot job that felt better than anything he had ever
experienced. At that moment, he would have given up his career without
a thought--his presidency, his shot at a presidency at a more
prestigious college, his political ambition even--if he could have
been promised that what he was feeling could go on forever.

Serena pressed her feet hard against the sides of his pulsating shaft,
and moved them up and down, jacking him off with as much skill as her
hands would. When a moan escaped him, muffled by the flesh of her
breast, she caressed his head encouragingly.

"Come on, my filthy dirty little perverted boy--spew your load all
over my pretty feet. Do your dirty business all over these feet
rubbing you off while you suck on my big fat tits. Come on! Let it
come! Let it come! That's it! Oh yes, just like that! Come on! Ah!
Yes!"

Calhoun clenched up like a white hot spike had been thrust up his rear
end, and shouted an indistinct scream into Serena's breast as he felt
his manhood erupt between her pistoning feet. Each spurt of semen felt
like it was draining him to the core and wracked his body with
spasms. Serena caressed his hair, encouraging him, soothing him, as if
he were about to collapse in tears.

She let him go, finally, and leaned back down on the couch. Calhoun
feared for a second that he would collapse on the floor of his
office. He was shot, drained, voided. He had just experienced the most
powerful orgasm of his life. But Serena was not done with him. She
lifted her feet up to his face again.

"Lick my feet clean now--you soiled them with your filthy spent. Go
on, you dirty boy. Lick'em up."

Calhoun's manhood jerked back to life when he heard those words. This
girl's incredible was his last thought before he sucked the toes of
her left foot into his mouth, tasting the acrid flavor of his own
semen. Serena was smiling sweetly, while absent-mindedly caressing her
labia with her long manicured nails.

"Next time, maybe we'll get lovely Cassandra to join us. She's a
pretty bitch that one--I'd love to get between her legs and eat her
out. I bet she juices up like the little cunt she appears to
be. You'll have the honor of tonguing my ass while I munch her out,
you filthy boy. And then she and I will let you suck our toes while we
fuck in front of you."

Calhoun merely groaned, his tongue lapping up every drop of semen he
had spilled on Serena's skin, his manhood already back to full
strength as he imagined himself sucking down on Cassie's beautiful
toes while she was getting reamed by an all-powerful Serena hammering
into her with a large strap-on dildo.

As soon as that Cusker kid sent the message that his technician was
back, Cassie would be his. That Cusker kid had to come through for
him. He just had to. Calhoun would make sure of it.