If sex is a weapon then love is a double homicide.
By kittybeaver, in 5 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Explicit Novels.
"Start with the bookshelves." She pointed to the wall next to the fireplace. "Remember, we're looking for a bullet hole or an opening a gun could've been fired through."
Tina turned her attention to the wall in front of her, moving her scanner methodically over the wood paneling and around the ornately framed oil paintings. It was her educated guess that the murderer had been in the neighboring office and drilled a hole in the wall.
"These are some fancy books," Dirk said. Tina looked over her shoulder and saw his head tilted sideways as he read the spines. "They're all hardcovers and absolutely no Harry Potter."
"Don't worry about the books." She took one of the paintings off the wall and scanned behind it. "We're looking for something abnormal, something that's just slightly off."
"There's something off with the bookshelves," Fact-Tel announced.
"I knew it," Dirk said. "Who doesn't, at the very least, have Sorcerer's Stone?"
Tina placed the painting back on its hook and crossed to the other side of the room. "What did you find, Fact-Tel?"
"Should I have said Philosopher's Stone?" Dirk asked. "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, that's the metric title, right?"
"They're not real books," the A.I. said, ignoring Dirk. "It's a false bookcase. The scans are picking up a hollow space behind them."
"That is so cool," Dirk said. "What do you think's back there? Pirate's treasure? Porno magazines?"
Tina ran her hand around the edge of the bookcase, searching for hinges or a hidden lever. "City Hall is over a hundred years old. It's rumored there are secret passages all through the building, from the base of the Matthias Middle statue on top of the clock tower to the top of that clock statue containing Matthias Middle's bones in the sub-basement. This could be how the killer gained access to the office." She stretched her arm up as far as she could, but even in her high heel boots she couldn't reach the top shelf. "Dirk, feel along the top with your hand. See if you can find a button or something that will open the bookcase."
She watched him carefully as he reached his arm up, noting how his T-shirt rode up to reveal his flat stomach and that wispy line of hair that ran from his belly button down into his snug fitting jeans. It was a surprise to feel her tongue peeking out of her mouth and running along her upper lip, as if it too wanted to catch a glimpse of Dirk Allen's happy trail. It seemed every part of her body was proud of his physique.
Tina quickly turned, averting the gaze of both her eyes and tongue. "Fact-Tel, how large is the space behind the bookcase?" 'Proud' wasn't the right word for what she felt and she knew it. She needed to stop lying to herself. Her physical attraction to Dirk was a problem, but not nearly as big a problem as her emotional attraction to him. "Could a person conceal themselves there?"
"Definitely," the computer responded. "If I can analyze the dust and air particles in the space I might be able to tell if someone's been in there recently."
"I found something!" Dirk was so excited he nearly shouted. Both his arms were stretched way above his head, his fingers curling over the top edge of the bookcase.
"Is it a button?" Tina asked, remembering to keep her voice low. "Press it."
"Ok." Dirk's hand pressed down, then he took a quick step back.
A rumbling noise emerged from the shelves and they started to slide sideways. A dark space appeared, approximately three feet, or rather, Tina reminded herself, .0914 meters wide.
"Good job." She looked up into Dirk's pale green eyes and gave him another smile. He had such pretty eyes. They contrasted nicely with his dark hair and full, masculine lips. The better Tina got to know Dirk the more attractive he grew. And he was fucking gorgeous when she first met him. It was disturbing, to say the least. Increased physical attraction toward an individual was one of the first signs of,
Tina swallowed. She didn't even want to think the words.
Increased physical attraction toward an individual was one of the first signs of falling in love.
According to SWSO rule #96, secret agents were only allowed to experience three types of love: love of country, love of duty and love of sacrifice. Any other love could be used as a weapon against an agent. It had taken Tina years of therapy to reduce her familial love to an ambivalent indifference. Now, if some deranged villain made her choose between saving the world or saving her parents, she'd make the right choice without regret. Goodbye Mr. and Mrs. Blondell. You died for a good cause.
Romantic love was the most dangerous and that was the direction Tina's feelings for Dirk might be heading. The intense romantic bond had to be avoided at all costs. It caused people to lie, steal, or, even worse, wear matching outfits to company picnics. She'd seen it happen too many times before and she had vowed never to let it happen to her.
Love, in its essence, was a release of oxytocin in the brain. Every time she engaged in sexual intercourse with Dirk, every time he gave her another mind blowing orgasm, her brain released more oxytocin, conditioning her to feel love and affection for her coworker. As much as she wanted to invite him into her bed and ride him like a wild mustang, she couldn't do it. More sex meant more oxytocin. They couldn't have sex ever again, even if the job required it.
Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she pulled her SWSO issued flashlight from her purse and peered into the void. Her beam of light fell on a small, but comfortable looking recliner, a stack of magazines, a box of tissues and a pump bottle of lotion.
Dirk reached down and snatched a magazine from the top of the pile. "What do you know, it is porn. The murderer must have planned to wait a long time." He held the magazine sideways so that the centerfold flipped down. "Nice."
Tina moved quickly and picked up the next magazine from the pile. While a woman graced the cover Dirk was holding, a man stared back from the one in Tina's hands. There was no mistaking his pretty, green eyes, dark hair and plump, manly lips. Dirk had worked as a model for years before joining the SWSO. It was possible he could have done a risqué photo shoot.
It only took a second to open the magazine and look inside. Yep, it was him. She recognized that cock.
"Get a load of this, Fact-Tel." Dirk was holding his scanner over the magazine. "Tell me that's not DNA."
"General Zero." Tina barely breathed the words. Could it be? Might they finally have some evidence that would help them track down their nemesis?
"Nope," Fact-Tel said. "That's Appleton's spew."
"What?" It almost felt like Tina's heart was breaking.
"Chesterfield Appleton," the A.I. continued, "Middleburg City Comptroller. The person whose office you're standing in. He's the one who ejaculated onto Miss February's mammary glands."
"That makes no sense." Dirk dropped the magazine back onto the pile, while Tina surreptitiously rolled hers up and slipped it into her purse. "Why would Appleton hide for hours just to shoot himself?"
"I find no evidence of a firearm," Fact-Tel said. "No bullet casings or gunpowder residue."
"The murderer was never behind the bookcase." Tina sighed. She knew it when she first saw the magazines, but she didn't want to believe it. Linking Zero to the murders was her top priority. The sooner she did it, the sooner she could put the criminal mastermind behind bars.
Her feet felt heavy as she crossed the room to the fireplace, careful to step over the cadaver outlines. She ran her fingers over the intricate wood carvings in the mantelpiece. The winged cherubs holding satchels of money, seemed to mock her with their smiling faces.
"We're back where we started."
"We know some things," Dirk said, his voice a little too perky. It was obvious he was trying to cheer her up. "We know Appleton was a horn dog with a rub cubby at work. We know he was doing the nasty with Snide."
"Ugh, biologicals and your need to touch genitals," Fact-Tel muttered. "It's so gross."
"It's too bad good old, smut aficionado Chesterfield didn't make his own pornos," Dirk said. "If he'd recorded schtupping Snide, then maybe he'd have recorded the murderer too."
Tina looked up at the mirror over the fireplace. The whole room was visible behind her. There was Appletons's massive, wooden desk, the bay windows that looked out over City Hall Plaza, and over by the bookcase stood Dirk looking good in his tight pants and T-shirt. From this vantage point she could see everything.
"Maybe he did film it." Pointing her scanner at a section of the mirror, she turned it on and counted to 100. "Fact-Tel, what's on the other side of the mirror? Is there a camera or something?"
"I hate to tell you this," the A.I. responded, "but it's just a wall."
"No!" In her frustration, Tina threw the scanner down onto the plush, red carpet, letting her purse drop to the floor with it. "Why does this case have to be so frustrating?" She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Why can't it just solve itself?"
"Relax," Dirk said. "You're trying too hard." He walked up behind her and placed his large, strong hands on her shoulders. "When I think too hard, I get a headache and then I can't think at all." His fingers and thumbs started to work the stiff muscles of her neck and back, digging into the knots of tension. "If I stop thinking, if I let it all go, Well, by the time the headache goes away, you've figured it all out and I don't have to think any more."
The touch of his fingers felt good. It did relax her. It also made her horny as hell.
Her eyes popped open. "That's it. We'll make our own movie."
"What?" Dirk's hands dropped to his side and he took a step backwards.
Tina spun around to face him. "We're going to reenact the crime."
He glanced down at the cadaver outlines taped on the rug and then back at her. "You mean, " He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. "You mean, we're going to have sex?"
Tina was excited. The little shadows her erect nipples cast on her blouse made that obvious. And Tina's excitement was infectious. It made parts of Dirk's body get erect too. But he couldn't have sex with her, not again.
Not that he didn't want to, because he did. He couldn't spend a minute in her presence without fantasizing about lifting her skirt and pulling down her panties. He thought about bending her over the desk and taking her from behind. But the truth was, he didn't want to just have sex. He wanted to make love to her.
He wanted to undress her slowly, surrounded by the warm glow of candlelight and soft jazz playing in the background. He wanted to lay her down on a bed scattered with rose petals and take his time kissing every inch of her gorgeous body. He wanted to sink into her slowly, moaning her name as she whimpered how much she loved him. They would become one, both body and soul. It would be so beautiful, they'd climax together with tears in their eyes.
Dirk wanted to make a baby with Tina. He'd never had a pregnancy kink before, but the other night he'd rubbed one out while thinking about fertilization. It was freaking him the fuck out. If he was going to get past this, past his obsession with his work supervisor, he'd have to go cold turkey and not have sex with her ever again.
"We're going to have sex?" he asked.
"No." Tina smiled awkwardly. "Of course not. No."
Dirk wasn't sure if he felt relief or disappointment. "But we're reenacting the murder."
She nodded. "The moments that led up to the murder, yes."
"And in the moments leading up to the murder," he said, his eyes dropping once more to the body outlines taped on the rug, "Appleton and Snide were having sex."
Tina laughed nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Sure, but there's no need for us to actually, do, you know, that. Not this time."
"You're not going to touch genitals?" Fact-Tel asked.
"No." She laughed louder. "We're just going to go through the motions."
"Oh." Dirk definitely felt disappointed. "Like an old married couple."
"Exactly." Tina gave him a friendly, little punch on the side of his arm. Then she patted him in the same spot, gently squeezing his biceps. A dreamy look flitted across her eyes and her lips curved into a half smile. "That's nice."
"What?" Dirk wasn't sure what was going on.
"What?" She dropped her hand to her side and took a step back. "I'm sorry. What?"
"You're reenacting the murder," Fact-Tel reminded them.
"Of course we are. I'll be Sylvestra Snide." Tina walked to one of the cadaver outlines and carefully placed her feet on top of the outline's feet. "She was standing here with her panties around her ankles." Then she reached up her skirt and wiggled her hips until her underpants slipped down her legs.
All Dirk could do for a moment or so was stare at the silky blue with yellow polka dots fabric resting on the tops of her boots. He had recently come to the conclusion that women's panties were like the cover to a really good book. He just wanted to open it and bury his nose in the tight prose inside. Tina's book, of course, he'd red before, but, as with all the classics, it was worth going back to again and again.
"You're Chesterfield Appleton," Tina said, her voice super cheery, much more cheery than the reenactment of a brutal crime called for. "He was standing there." She pointed to the other cadaver outline. "And he had his pants and underpants around his ankles."
"Oh. Ok." Dirk took his place near her and unzipped his fly.
"You can leave your boxers on." Her eyes drifted down to his underwear. "Boxer briefs. Snug, black, boxer briefs. Those look good on you."
"Thanks." He wasn't sure what else to say.
She blinked a couple times, then looked up to meet his gaze. "Leave them on. No reason to take them off since we're probably just going to dry hump."
"Oh." That didn't sound so bad. "Like Catholic high school students."
"Exactly." She turned, so that her back was to Dirk. "This is the general area they were in when they were shot. When they fell, the force of the bullets probably knocked them back a few steps. So we have to figure out where they were at the moment right before they were shot."
"The fireplace." Dirk, his jeans still around his ankles, shuffled forward a few paces. "They were probably watching themselves in the mirror."
"Oh sure." Tina shuffled forward too and placed her hands on the mantelpiece, one hand resting on a cherub's face, the other on a bag of money. "Snide would have stood here."
"And Appleton would have been here." Dirk took his place behind her and grabbed onto her hips, which were way lower than he had expected. "We do not line up. Not at all."
He'd known Tina was short, that was obvious from the first time they met. He just hadn't realized how much shorter she was than him. Even with her high heels on, if they were actually going to have sex, he'd be fucking the small of her back.
Had they never done it standing up before? He tried to think back to all the times they'd had to have sex for work. They must have done it standing up for at least one of them. When the safety of the general public was at stake, one didn't usually have the luxury of lying down. They had done it bent over a table like surface. Dirk must have been bending his knees more than he was aware of at the time.
Oh wait. They had done it standing up, but face to face. He'd lifted Tina and she'd wrapped her legs around him before he nailed her to the wall. That was a good one, very memorable.
"Sylvestra Snide was a few inches taller than me," Tina said.
"Don't you mean centimeters?"
"Right. Sorry." It looked like she was blushing. "Snide was a few centimeters taller and Appleton was several centimeters shorter than you. We may not line up, but they did and that's all that really matters."
"I guess." Dirk ducked his head and looked into the mirror. "But they would have seen the room at different angles."
"That's true. Good catch, Agent Allen." Tina shuffled over to the bookshelves. "They saw the murderer before they were shot. We need to have the same sightlines they had. Are any of these books real?"
"According to the scans," Fact-Tel said, "the ones on the lowest shelf are real books."
As Tina bent over to retrieve the thickest book off the bottom shelf, her skirt rode up in the back, revealing more and more thigh. Dirk held his breath. He knew what was above those thighs. It wasn't panties, no sir.
"Look at that, Atlas Shrugged, hardcover, large print edition." She pulled the mammoth tomb off the shelf and stood up.
Her skirt slipped back down and Dirk let out a disappointed sigh.
"I will gladly stand on this." She shuffled back to the fireplace and dropped the book. It fell onto the rug with a loud thud. When she stepped on top of it, she was, indeed, a few centimeters taller. "Oh yeah," she said as she looked into the mirror and surveyed the room behind her. "I can see more of the floor at this angle."
Dirk bent his knees slightly and peered into the mirror as well. "And I can see more of the ceiling. I'm not sure what good it does, but we're that much closer to solving the crime."
"So," Tina said as she placed her hands back on the ornate fireplace, "Snide and Appleton were in flagrante."
"They were on fire?" he asked. "I thought they got shot."
"No fire," she said. "They were engaged in the act of coitus."
"Still not sure, "
"They were fucking," she finally said. "His penis was in her vagina."
"Oh, yeah," Dirk said. "We knew that." He grabbed her hips and slowly pushed his pelvis forward, tapping her soft, bouncy ass. "We line up now." His cock was keenly aware of it.
"Yes. Good." Tina tightened her grip on the wooden mantelpiece. "Do it again, a little harder. And remember to watch the mirror. We've got to see what they saw."
He thrust again, his hips hitting her ass with a little more force. Dirk sent a mental message to his cock not to get excited. This wasn't a call to action, this was a drill. There was no reason to bring out the live ammunition. Unfortunately, his cock responded more to mental images than it did to mental messages.
It didn't help that what Dirk saw when he looked into the mirror was Tina's jiggling breasts. They bobbed up and down with each impact. Did her bra match her panties? If he ripped open her blouse, would he see blue satin and yellow polka dots covering her creamy, squeezable tits? This was the sort of thing a crime scene investigator needed to know.
"Again." Tina arched her back, angling her ass up, and spreading her legs as much as the panties around her ankles would allow. "Faster." Her voice sounded breathy and her cheeks were getting flushed.
Dirk did what his work supervisor commanded. His cock was so hard now, so dedicated to its purpose. It slipped below her ass cheeks and rubbed along her taint. It would have gone further, but the fabric from her skirt stopped it.
"Your, " He couldn't think of the right word. He reached down and ran his finger along the hem of her skirt where it touched her thigh. "This thing. It's in the way. We can't investigate the way we need to with it there."
"You're absolutely right." Tina, the consummate professional, yanked her skirt up around her waist. "Try it now. Go as fast and as hard as you want. Do what you think Chesterfield Appleton did."
"I think Chesterfield fingered Sylvestra." It's what Dirk would have done had he been in the situation he was in now.
"Yes." Tina grabbed his left hand and guided it down, down to the golden treasure. "Sylvestra probably demanded it."
He pushed his fingers past the supple lips of her cunt, exploring her moist heat until he found that little nub of nerve endings.
"Yes!" She cried again. "This is exactly what happened." She rocked her hips back and forth, grinding her ass against Dirk's cock. "It's possible Chesterfield was a little rougher. Not abusive, but he took control. He made Sylvestra feel it."
"You think Sylvestra liked to be dominated?"
"I know she did."
He thrust his cotton clad cock forward, rubbing it against the opening to her body. Damn his boxer briefs. Why were they still on?
"Sylvestra was a little slut." His underwear may have prevented him from finishing the deed, but it still felt good to hump.
"She was big slut," Tina agreed. She panted and writhed with each move Dirk made. "She was a big slut for cock, for Chesterfield's cock."
"He loved her cunt," Dirk whispered in her ear, "so wet and tight. He loved her slutty cunt almost as much as he loved her."
"How do we know this is what they said?" Fact-Tel interrupted. "I don't see this dialogue anywhere in any of the files."
"Damn it, Dirk," Tina swore. "We have to fuck. We have to solve this case. Get your cock out and fuck me until we find the murderer!"
Dirk would proudly do his duty, no matter what that duty was. "Yes ma'am." Wasting no time, he shoved his boxer briefs down to his thighs and grabbed his swollen tool. With one deft thrust, he drove it deep into Tina's damp cave of the ages.
"Oh." She moaned low and long. Grabbing onto the mantelpiece, Tina bent at the middle, giving Dirk better access to the enlightenment inside her. "Yes. Give it to me. Don't hold back."
"Oh yuck," Fact-Tel said. "You're touching genitals."
She was so wet and he was so hard, it was easy to move in and out of her. Leaving one hand on her hip, he moved the other to the fireplace, to brace himself. Then he fucked her good.
"Dirk, Dirk, " The rhythm of her whimpers matched his thrusts. When he picked up speed, so did she. "Dirk, Dirk, Dirk,"
The mirror rattled in its frame. The reflected world behind them seemed to tip and shake.
"Dirk dirk dirk dirk dirk dirk."
It was only when he was truly pounding her ass that he saw it. The carved cherub and money bag on the mantelpiece started to move. They slid apart and two gun barrels sprang forward.
If it hadn't been for Dirk's inhuman speed, he never would have been able to react in time. He grabbed Tina about the waist and threw their bodies backwards.
The guns went off with a bang and so did Tina. "DIRK!" she screamed, her inner muscles gripping his cock as they hit the floor. He came on impact, ejaculating a hot, salty stream of heroism.
The twin bullets passed harmlessly above them, crashing through the bay window and disappearing into the night.
"You, you, " Tina panted as she disengaged herself from Dirk's genitals and climbed to her feet. "You saved my life." She pulled up her panties and took a step sideways to make sure she was no longer in the guns' sightlines.
But the secret panels on the fireplace had already closed. The two insidious murder weapons had retreated once again into darkness. The angel and the money bag were back in their places as though they'd never left.
"I still don't understand what happened." Dirk stood and pulled up his underwear and pants.
"The vibrations from your, " There was a distinct note of disgust in Fact-Tel's voice. ", from your vigorous reproductive pursuit activated a mechanism in the mantelpiece."
Having grabbed her discarded scanner off the floor, Tina held it in front of the wooden cherub and turned it on. "General Zero must have known Appleton and Snide were having an affair and installed the moveable panels in the fireplace."
"Analyzing now," the A.I. said, "but spectra carbon dating suggests the movable panels and hidden compartments are over 100 years old."
Dirk scratched his head. "Does that mean Zero traveled back in time?"
"Probably not," Tina said. "But maybe they're familiar with City Hall and knew about all the secret rooms and hiding places."
"I need a closer look at the guns," Fact-Tel said. "Can you activate the panels again?"
"Oh gosh, I'd like to. Really I would," Dirk stammered, "but I need a couple more minutes and a Gatorade."
Tina smiled at him. "I think if you rock the mantelpiece back and forth, that should be enough."
"I can do that." Dirk may not have been ready with a stiffy, but he still had his inhuman strength. He could jiggle an ornate piece of wood until it became an artisanal murder weapon, no problem.
"Just be careful not to stand in front of the guns." Tina stood off to the side and aimed her scanner. "We literally just dodged a bullet. I'd feel awful if you got shot now."
"Thanks." Dirk stood to the left of the fireplace and once again laid his hands on the mantelpiece. "That means a lot." There was a part of him, low in his belly, that felt warm and fuzzy at the thought Tina would be miserable if he died. It meant she cared.
She gave him a smile, which warmed him further. "Let's get this thing rocking, huh."
That's all Dirk needed to hear. He used his strength and speed to rock the antique fireplace back and forth and back and forth, harder and faster and faster and harder, until the panels started to move again.
Tina switched on her scanner. "Be ready, Fact-Tel, this is going to go fast."
"How many times do I have to explain, I'm always ready," the super computer grumbled. "I'm not like you. I don't need foreplay."
The guns slid out of their hiding places and fired. Bang! Bang! Sending two more bullets through the window and out into the night.
Dirk peered out the window after them. "It's going to be awkward if tomorrow morning we learn four people were mysteriously shot in City Hall Plaza."
Tina didn't seem to be so concerned. "Tell me you got something, Fact-Tel. Is there anything we can use?"
"I got a fingerprint," Fact-Tel proudly announced. "Running it through the databases now."
She placed her hand to her chest and shot Dirk a look. "If it doesn't match anything in the databases, then it probably belongs to General Zero."
"Got a match," the A.I. said. "It's not Zero."
"GoD DAMN it All To HeLL," Tina cried. She picked up her purse, shoved the scanner inside and stormed out of the office. "I don't even want to fucking know who the real killer is!"
Dirk just stood there, listening as her angry footsteps receded into the distance. He'd give her a few minutes. By the time he got down to the car, she'd be calm and rational again. That was one of the things he liked about Tina, that she was generally a calm, rational person. Also, she had shiny, soft hair. He liked that too.
Tina switched off the television, sat back in her chair and stretched her legs out on her desk . "Looks like we'll need a new mayor," she sighed.
"He did plead guilty," Fact-Tel reminded her.
"He had no choice, really." She said before taking a sip from her coffee mug. "They had his fingerprints on the gun. And that was before they found all those love letters."
"And now he'll spend the rest of his life in jail," the A.I. said, "where, if I'm going to be honest, most humans belong."
"Really?" Tina sat up. "You think most humans--?"
"Good morning," Dirk said as he walked through the SWSO front door. He held a large bouquet of yellow flowers in his hands and his voice was as cheery as a ray of sunshine. "I saw the news. Mayor Feem pleaded guilty, huh?"
Tina could feel her heartbeat quickening. It was the effects of oxytocin on her brain, she knew that. Still, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Dirk looked so happy. "What are the flowers for?"
"For you." He extended his arm, thrusting the bouquet into her hands. "I saw them on my way into work and they made me think of you."
"I love sunflowers and Gerber daisies." She sniffed the fresh flower scent. "You shouldn't have."
"I know." He dug his hands into his pockets and rocked back on is feet. "But I wanted to. I thought they'd brighten this place up. You know, " Instead of finishing his thought, he shrugged and flashed her another brilliant smile.
For a moment, time seemed to stop as they looked at each other and smiled.
Dirk really shouldn't have bought her flowers and Tina needed to explain to him why.
For a while now they'd been skirting a line between partners and love. She had been ignoring the signs, willfully pretending they weren't there. The flowers were a sign that couldn't be ignored. So was the magazine in her desk drawer, the piece of evidence she had stolen from Appleton's office. She and Dirk needed to address this. She needed to tell him about Rule 96. She needed to recommit to it herself.
The Appleton Snide murder case was the perfect opportunity to explain it to Dirk. Mayor Benoit Feem had been passionately in love with Sylvestra Snide, but his love was a weakness. When he found out she was cheating on him, he flew into a rage. Love was his downfall. Love had killed two people and sent a dedicated politician to prison for the rest of his life.
This was a teaching moment. Dirk would learn about Rule 96 and why it was so very important. As long as he accepted the rule, everything would be fine. They could stay partners, firmly on the right side of the line.
If he didn't accept the rule, well, that would be fine too. He'd have to abandon his training and leave the SWSO. They'd have no future contact. It might hurt for a while. Tina had grown used to him. She'd miss his bright smile and tight fitting jeans, but she'd get over it eventually. It was better to know now if Dirk wasn't able to move forward as an agent.
Tina knew what she had to do.
But instead she sniffed the flowers again and said, "I've gotta put these in water. Thank you."
There would be time for the talk later. No reason to risk a good thing just yet.
Just say no to drugs.
Tina shoved her hands into her coat pockets. Soon she'd need to bring gloves with her on assignments. Cold weather gloves, she specified in her mind. She always had latex gloves on her, just in case. She glanced down at the book open in her lap. Sitting on a bench in the middle of Perspective Park wasn't the best place to read, but it was the best place to people watch.
"Tell me," she quietly said without moving her lips, "about the couple at 10 o'clock."
"My 10 or your 10?" the man sitting next to her asked.
"We're facing the same direction, Dirk," she responded. "It's the same 10 o'clock for both of us."
She watched out of the corner of her eye as Dirk took a deep breath and pretended to play a game on his phone. As a former male model, he instinctively struck a pose that was natural and visually pleasing. The casual way he wore his autumn jacket showed off its manly shape and rugged details. His long, muscular legs, carelessly crossed, accentuated the lines on his blue jeans. The lock of dark hair falling over his pale green eyes was like an invitation to run one's fingers through his hair.
Tina shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.
"Ok," Dirk mumbled, still pretending to stare at his phone, "10 o'clock is on the right."
"Left," she quickly corrected.
"Left," he agreed. "So the couple at 10 o'clock is, Oh sure. Man and woman in their late 20s. He has a good paying job, a lot of pressure, but he skates by. She is an entrepreneur and makes her own hours."
"How do you know that?" Tina asked.
"Well, he's got a nice suit on," Dirk explained, "and she's wearing paint splattered jeans and a hoodie. Also he's buying drugs from her."
A wide smile spread across Tina's lips. A passerby would have assumed she'd just red something sweet in the new Slap Sullivan mystery. "Very good, Agent Allen," she said. "You're going to ace the observational section on the exam."
Technically Dirk wasn't an agent, not yet. He'd been training under Tina's watchful eye for several months now. Tomorrow was the exam to become an accredited Secret World Security Organization Agent. If he passed the test, she wouldn't be his boss anymore. They'd officially be partners.
"How are you doing with the Regulations?" a mechanical voice chirped in their ears. "You're not going to pass anything if you haven't memorized all the SWSO rules." Fact-Tel was the artificial intelligence that monitored all of Tina and Dirk's missions, providing information and logistical back up when needed. It didn't have the same confidence in Dirk that Tina had. In fact, it had bet Tina 3 bitcoins Dirk would fail the exam.
"I've been reading them," Dirk said. "There are one hundred rules. I'm up to 93."
"93? Really?" Tina pulled her hands from her pockets and unzipped her coat. "That's, almost all."
He was almost up to Rule 96, the rule that specified what forms of love secret agents were allowed to feel. Love of country, love of duty and love of sacrifice were the only permissible loves. Everything else was off limits.
It was the hardest rule to keep, but it was necessary. Seventy-two percent of agents in training couldn't do it. Upon learning what it truly meant to give up love, they left the SWSO. They just couldn't hack it.
Dirk had a complicated relationship with his parents, but Tina was confident he'd be more than willing to wipe them from his life. It was the other love, romantic love, that had her worried. She was fairly certain he was falling in love with her. Worse yet, she might be falling in love with him too.
It was all the sex they'd had. The fact that it was strictly work related coitus didn't prevent the emotional bonding. Every time they took off their clothes and engaged in intercourse, the bond strengthened, deepened, grew more profound. It didn't help that she genuinely liked him. Tina enjoyed Dirk as a person. She trusted him. If they continued to have sex, eventually there'd be no turning back. The bonding, trust and appreciation would combine into something unbreakable. They'd be in love and in danger of compromising everything they'd worked for.
Four out of five times it had been absolutely necessary for Tina to drop her panties and ride Dirk like a wild stallion. Lives had been at stake. Except for the last time. The last time they'd fucked because they wanted to fuck. No one would have died if they had kept the investigation platonic.
All their missions could be platonic if they worked at it. Tina had been an SWSO agent for nearly 10 years, but it was only in the past several month that she'd had to have sex with her partner. Perhaps the issue was her problem solving skills. Maybe she was getting a little lazy and falling back on the familiar. She just needed look past the obvious solution of boning Dirk and get more creative.
That was exactly what she was going to do. From now on, no matter how dire the situation, they would not have sex. They would just have to find another solution. Fact-Tel would help. The computer had never liked the coital solutions. Tina was sure it would be more than happy to find a different way out of a jam.
And perhaps if she and Dirk stopped having sex, the bond between them would stop growing. If there was no bond, there was no love and if there was no love, then Dirk probably wouldn't have a problem with Rule 96.
Tina closed her eyes and said a little prayer to a god she didn't believe in. Dirk had to accept Rule 96, he just had to. If he didn't, he'd have to leave the SWSO and Tina's heart would break into a million jagged pieces.
"Gonna finish up the Rules tonight," he was saying, blissfully unaware that Tina had lost herself in a long inner monologue. Maybe his observational skills did need more work. "And then I just gotta remember to take my gun with me tomorrow. Look, I remembered it today."
He pulled back his jacket and lifted his T-shirt to reveal washboard abs, defined obliques and a handgun shoved into the waist of his jeans.
"That's great." Tina did her best not to draw attention to them as she quietly moved his jacket back into place and covered the gun. "You are improving in that department, but you need to wear an SWSO approved holster. It's not safe to shove a gun down your pants."
"I will remember that for next time." He smiled brightly at her. "When you're a student of life, every day is a learning opportunity."
Tina couldn't help but smile back at him. His thirst for life was infectious. It made her want to take off her clothes. It made her want to ask Fact-Tel to find the nearest sleazy hotel where she and Dirk could fuck for the rest of the afternoon. She craved the feeling of his hard cock inside her. She wanted it so bad; she was practically drooling from both ends.
But Dirk's cock wasn't an option, not anymore. She'd have to satisfy herself with saving lives and putting bad people behind bars.
"So, back to observational skills," she said as she did her best not to picture Dirk naked. He looked so good naked. "As secret agents, we have to be aware of our surroundings at all times. It's so easy to get distracted, but we can't let that happen. An assassin will attack when you least expect it."
"I doubt there are any assassins in Middleburg," Dirk said. "Besides, who would want to kill- Ouch!" His hand shot up to the side of his neck. "I think a bug just bit me."
"A bug? What sort of-" Tina started to say, but she was stopped short by a sharp, stinging pain in the back of her neck. "Ouch!" It wasn't a bug bite, she was sure of that. Her suspicions were confirmed when she pulled a large blow dart from the back of her neck.
Dirk held an identical one in his hands. Both were approximately five centimeters long, with impressive blue feather fletching, and on the end was a circular tag that said, "Nice knowing you. Love, General Zero."
A cold shiver ran over Dirk's body. Whatever was on the tip of that dart, he could feel it spreading out from the wound on his neck.
"Fact-Tel," Tina said, her voice quiet, yet determined. "We've both been dosed with an unknown substance. Analyze our blood to find out what it is."
"Starting analysis now," the computer responded.
Dirk found strength in Tina's brown eyes. She knew what to do. She'd save him.
"Move as little as you can, and do your best to keep your breath slow and shallow." She said to him. "When you're calm, start describing symptoms. It'll help Fact-Tel isolate the substance."
"Ok," he said, his words a little mumbled from trying not to move his jaw or tongue.
"There's a warm sensation emanating from the puncture wound," Tina said. "Heart Rate seems normal for now."
"I taste pennies," Dirk added.
Tina swallowed. "I do too."
"Analysis complete," Fact-Tel said. "Sorry it took so long, but there were a lot of things it could have been."
"What's the diagnosis?" Tina asked.
"I'll explain it," the A.I. said, "but while I'm doing that, you need to follow my directions, without question."
"Why?" Dirk asked.
"How important is it, Agent Blondell, that Agent Allen survive this?"
"Very," she answered. "Now tell us what to do."
"All movements need to be slow," Fact-Tel instructed. "You need to keep your heart rate low, to slow down the progress of the poison. But you can't be too slow, because the longer you take to do what I say, the sooner you're going to die. So when I say no questions, that means don't ask questions."
"Got it." Tina looked Dirk in the eye and raised her eyebrows slightly.
"Got it," he said. "No questions. Just do what you say."
"Stand up," Fact-Tel said, "and follow the path forty-five degrees to your right out of the park. Aim for the Matthias Middle statue on top of city hall."
Tina took Dirk's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. It was her way of telling him that everything would be alright. In his heart he smiled. Together, they stood and followed Fact-Tel's commands, walking toward the giant statue of the Middleburg founder that crowned the city hall clock tower.
Matthias Middle was a source of inspiration for all Middleburgers. With his lantern held high, he guided the city, illuminating safe passage. In many ways, Tina was like Matthias Middle's lantern. She guided Dirk. She inspired him. She was his safe passage.
There was a connection between them. They tried to deny it, but it was real and it was good. It was the best thing in Dirk's life. Yes, he was exceptionally good looking, had a cool job, as well as strange and marvelous powers, but none of that came close to the joy Tina brought him.
Tomorrow, before he took the Secret Agent Exam, Dirk was going to tell her how he felt. He would lay himself bare, not literally, but figuratively. After the exam, if things went well, he'd lay himself bare literally. One of his favorite things to do in the whole world was getting naked with Tina. They'd only ever done it for work, but once they started going at it recreationally, it would be awesome. If they survived this whole poison thing and Dirk passed the exam tomorrow, he would take the time to undress her slowly, suck on her plump titties, tongue her cunt until she screamed his name and then nail her to the mattress all damn night.
Dirk took a slow and shallow breath to clear his mind. He had to focus on the issue at hand and not think about fucking his coworker. He needed to keep his blood pressure down and this line of thought was doing the opposite. The mental image of Tina naked on a bed, her legs spread open and her arms reaching for him, was causing Dirk to sport a chub. So no more daydreaming until after there was no imminent threat of death.
"The bad news," Fact-Tel was saying as Tina and Dirk strolled out of the park, "is that you've been hit with a potent neural toxin. It will cause hallucinations, paranoia and eventually death. The good news is I can synthesize an antidote."
"That is good news," Tina said and she squeezed Dirk's hand again.
"Turn left when you get to the sidewalk," Fact-Tel said. "The other bad news is it takes a while to synthesize the antidote, much longer than it takes for the toxin to kill a person."
"That's very bad news," Dirk said. It looked like he wouldn't live long enough to take the Secret Agent Exam. If he was ever going to tell Tina how he truly felt, he was going to have to do it now.
"Cross the street here," the A.I. ordered. "The other good news is there's a way to slow the progress of the toxin. See that building with the yellow and red striped awning?"
"The dirty and tattered awning?" Tina asked.
"Yeah," Fact-Tel said. "Go in there."
"Is the thing that slows down the toxin in there?" Dirk asked.
"Sort of," Fact-Tel said. "I'm going to stop for a moment to remind you of the no questions rule, because you've both broken it in the past thirty seconds."
"Sorry," Tina said.
"Yeah, sorry." Dirk echoed. He looked up to see the broken neon sign hanging over the awning. Hotel Upscale, it red in red flickering lights.
"The only way to slow down the progress of the toxin," Fact-Tel explained as they entered the dimly lit lobby, "is to flood the brain with serotonin."
Tina abruptly stopped walking. "No."
"Yeah," the computer explained. "You two are going to have to fuck, long and hard. For two hours."
Dirk moved toward the front desk, pulling Tina along behind him. "That's the best news so far."
"There must be another way," she said. "Couldn't you manufacture massive doses of serotonin and send them to us via drone?"
"I don't like this anymore than you do," Fact-Tel said. "The act of human coitus is disgusting, especially when you two do it, but I can't waste time on the serotonin. I have to put all my resources into the antidote. You will have to provide your own serotonin."
"We could eat chocolate," Tina said.
"Or you could do what you promised you'd do," the A.I. snapped, "and obey my orders without question!"
Dirk smiled at the man standing behind the front desk; a thick pane of bulletproof glass separated them. "Good afternoon," he said, trying his best to enunciate his words. It wasn't easy. His tongue felt thick and numb and a little bit self-aware. "One room, please."
The old man's eyes scraped over them, leaving a slimy trail wherever his gaze landed. "By the hour or by the night?"
"I don't think we'll need the whole night," Dirk answered.
"You'll be done in two hours," Fact-Tel said, "one way or the other."
"We could try public approval," Tina said. "That's shown to release serotonin."
It may have been the toxin working on his system and making him paranoid, but Dirk was beginning to wonder if Tina didn't want to have sex with him. The last time they had done it, she'd practically begged for it. That, in and of itself, had been a big turn on. But if she wasn't into it, he'd feel weird doing it. He might even have performance issues.
"What can I do to get you in the mood?" he asked. "If you're not an enthusiastic partner, we will die."
Tina sighed. "I'm not trying to be difficult."
"I know." Dirk squeezed her hand, giving back to her the reassurance she had given him earlier. "Close your eyes. I'll provide some mental images I think might turn you on."
"Ok." She closed her eyes. "Thanks."
"Picture me shirtless," he whispered in her ear, "doing that thing you always wanted me to do, but were too shy to ask, vacuuming your living room. See the sun glistening off my sweaty body as I reach up and get those cobwebs in the corners."
She opened one eye. "Dirk?"
"Shush." He let his voice drop an octave. "Now I'm loosening all the jars in your kitchen, yeah, just the way you like it. And look what I bought you, a dress with pockets."
"Dirk!" She tugged violently on his hand and then motioned to the hotel manager. "Look at his fingernails," she hissed.
The man's hands rested on the counter, his fingers laced together. It had been a while since he'd been to the manicure, that was obvious. His nails were torn and uneven with dirt wedged beneath them.
"Do you see them?" she asked. "What should we do?"
"I don't know," Dirk responded. "Maybe a gift card for a manicure and pedicure." It had been nearly two weeks since Dirk's last mani-pedi. He could go for another one. It was so relaxing to have the dead skin scraped off his feet. But that would have to wait until after they survived the toxin.
"A manicure?" Tina wasn't whispering anymore. "That's your solution to tv monitors embedded in a person's fingers?"
"Oh no," Fact-Tel said. "She's hallucinating."
"So you want the room or not?" the man asked. His perfectly normal, if unattractive, fingernails stared back at Dirk, taunting him with their mediocrity.
"Get the room," Fact-Tel said. "Do it now, Dirk. Tina has less body mass. The poison is working faster on her. You need to take charge. Get the room."
He pulled all the money out of his pocket and slammed it down on the counter. "We'll take it and any condoms you might have."
Tina was on edge as they rode the elevator up to their floor. "Do you see them?" she asked, her eyes fixated on where the wall met the ceiling. "They're everywhere."
Dirk didn't see them, not until they were walking down the hallway to their room. That's when the faces appeared. They slowly emerged from the walls as if they'd been trapped in another dimension, and smiled big, friendly smiles.
"Hey Dirk," they said in unison. "You're looking good today, buddy."
"Thanks." He waved at them. "You have fun tonight doing your face wall thing."
"Keep it together," Fact-Tel said. "Both of you. You're almost at the room."
"They're watching us," Tina said. She sounded near tears. "They see everything we do."
"Yep," Dirk agreed. "It's kind of nice, if I do say so myself."
"Here," Fact-Tel said. "This is your room. Unlock the door, go inside and take off all your clothes."
Dirk unlocked the door. "Awesome!"
The room was dark and foreboding with bars over the windows and a yellow flowered blanket draped over the bed. In all four corners were sentient cameras, judging and recording their every move and broadcasting it to the enemy.
"Disarm first," Fact-Tel instructed. "As the toxin progresses, your paranoia will reach dangerous levels."
Tina trusted Fact-Tel. They'd been working together since the first day she'd joined the SWSO. She could count on the A.I. to tell her the truth. Dirk, on the other hand, she wasn't so sure about.
"Take your weapons out of your holsters and remove the bullets," Fact-Tel continued, "then put guns and bullets in the bathroom sink."
She'd known Dirk for less than a year. His mother was a notorious criminal, his father a shady wizard. Their gorgeous, super powered offspring would make the perfect sleeper agent. Tina studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. How had she not seen it before? He was using his eerie green eyes to send secrets back to the bad guys.
"We're making gun soup," he said as he dumped his bullets into the sink and turned on the faucet. "Gun soup. Gun soup," he sang. "Whatcha gonna do. Whatcha gonna do when you have to poo."
"Back to the bedroom," Fact-Tel said. "Undress, starting with your shoes."
"Hee hee," Dirk laughed. "You said shoes."
As he removed his items of clothing, Tina saw more of the real Dirk. Evil oozed from every pore, seeping over his skin and leaving a thin, shiny layer that smelled like pine needles. It was kind of hot.
He was extremely fuckable, in that way all elemental evil is fuckable. It was that nasty, dirty, animal rutting that was both excruciatingly satisfying and gloriously humiliating. Tina wanted it. She wanted it bad, but she wouldn't do it. Her first priority was to stop Dirk (if that even was his name) from broadcasting her secrets back to his faceless overlords.
"Underwear next," Fact-Tel ordered. "Everything comes off. Then get on the bed."
It was only when his underpants hit the floor that Tina understood how he was broadcasting her secrets. At his groin, partially hidden by a patch of neatly trimmed pubes, was an antenna. As it grew longer and thicker, visible radio waves echoed out from the top, making an audible beeping noise before disappearing into the air. Tina had to stop them from getting to the faceless overlords. There was only one way she could think to do it.
When her hot, fuckable nemesis lay down on the bed, she pounced. Pinning down his upper body with her thighs, she grabbed the antenna, opened her mouth wide and swallowed the radio waves.
The beeping reverberated in her skull as she pressed her lips around the head of the antenna. Her hand gripped the stem, pumping up and down. If she found the right rhythm, she'd be able to jam the signal. She tasted a faint whisper of salt on her tongue. Of course, salt was the preferred seasoning of the damned.
Everything Tina had suspected was turning out to be true. She took more of the antenna into her mouth and moved her arm faster. She'd do whatever it took to fight the evil overlords. Nothing would distract her from her mission, not even the worm tickling her crotch.
Dirk was in cunt heaven. He was floating on a cloud surrounded by cunt. He was eating it, breathing it, enjoying the view. An endless stream of pussies floated past him, all different shapes, colors and sizes. Some played harps, others played volleyball. They were the happy pussies one would expect to find in cunt heaven.
"Is it 69 or 96?" a man's voice asked.
Dirk, his mouth still occupied licking cunt, didn't hesitate to answer. I'm pretty sure this is 69. He hadn't bothered to look to make certain, but a cunt was going down on him and it felt great. Oh, hey. Am I talking with my mind? Is this a new super power?
"Dirk," the man said. "You've got to pay attention." He seemed to be somewhere behind Dirk, just out of his line of vision, but Dirk didn't have to see him to know who it was. The voice was all too familiar.
Dad? What are you doing in cunt heaven?
"What do you think I'm doing?" Alan Allen answered. "I'm fucking your mother."
"Hi Dirk, sweetie," Delia Villa-Allen said.
Please don't, Dirk thought. Not while I'm enjoying Tina's cunt.
He knew instinctively it was Tina he was pleasuring and that she was pleasuring him. He knew with his mouth and his cock and, above everything else, his heart. His heart would know Tina anywhere.
I love her, he thought. I love her so much. If you put my love for Tina on a scale, it would weigh more than all the cunt love in cunt heaven.
"You're high," his mother said.
Sure, Dirk agreed. No one's arguing against that. But when I crash, when I feel worse than shit under the rim of a toilet, I'm still going to love her. Maybe not at much as I do now, because right now I am fucking high.
"What about the 96?" his father asked.
It's 69, Dirk thought, and it's spectacular. I'm fucking high, eating the cunt of the woman I love and she's sucking my cock. In about thirty seconds, I'm going to cum in her mouth. If this is how I die, I embrace it.
"This Tina person is the one who put me behind bars," his mother reminded him. "You helped her put me behind bars. How could you betray me like that?"
Shut up, Mom. He was having none of it. Not even you can ruin my mood.
Around him, the heavenly voices of pussies sang in unison, praising the love of the universe. Their pure notes combined and grew into a crescendo of cunt love. At the moment they hit their loudest notes, Dirk came.
His eyes clamped shut, his leg twitched and his cock spewed forth a future as brilliant as a thousand setting suns.
"Oh yeah," he growled, basking in the warmth of a well-timed orgasm.
A drowsy feeling of contentment wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Everything was alright with the world. Dirk might as well take a nap.
G'night Mom, he thought. G'night Dad. It was good talking to you. Don't get me wrong, it was weird, but it was good.
His parents didn't respond. In fact, cunt heaven was oddly quiet. The only sound was Tina's sarcastic laugh and the muttered words, "You think squirting toxic waste in my face will stop me?"
Dirk opened his eyes. Gone were the winged and singing genitalia floating on clouds. He found himself in a dingy hotel room with drab mustard colored walls and a faded flowered bedspread. The only part of Cunt Heaven that seemed to be real was Tina's muff in his face.
"Finish her off," Fact-Tel said.
"What?" Dirk wiggled his hand free from under Tina's thigh and pressed a finger to the communicator behind his ear. He couldn't have heard right. "Did you just order me to kill Tina?"
"No," the artificial intelligence said. "Finish her off as in make her climax. You had your orgasm, flooding your brain with serotonin and temporarily neutralizing the toxin. Tina's still hallucinating. Finish her off so I can have an intelligent conversation with someone who is as close to being my equal as a human can get."
There wasn't much of Fact-Tel's words that Dirk understood, but he did get the message that he had to make Tina cum. That was something he knew how to do. If only it was part of the Secret Agent Exam. He would ace it with just the pinky on his left hand.
And that's what he did. He wiggled his pinky over her clitoris, moving it faster and faster until it was vibrating at an inhuman speed.
"Do whatever you want," Tina moaned. "You'll never make me talk." She buried her face in the bedspread and rocked back and forth on her knees. "Name, rank, serial number." Her words were muffled by the blanket. "Name, rank, serial NUMBER!"
For a moment she froze. The only movements were slight convulsions in her thigh muscles, then she rolled off of Dirk and onto her side.
"Oh shit," she moaned. "We're still poisoned, aren't we?"
"Yes," Fact-Tel said, "and you still have to do exactly as I say."
"I don't mind this poison thing," Dirk said. "I mean the dying part is bogus, but the rest of it I'm enjoying."
"Stop talking and listen," the A.I. commanded. "Dirk, go open the window. I need a way to get the drone delivery system into your hotel room once the antidote is ready."
Dirk walked over to the window, hoisted it up and inadvertently flashed the two elderly women in the apartment across the street. "What about the bars?" he asked and tapped the metal rods that kept prowlers from breaking in. "Can the drone get past these."
"You've got super strength," Fact-Tel sighed, "bend them."
"Oh yeah." Dirk gripped the bars. "I forgot about that."
"Tina," the computer continued, "there are plastic cups in the bathroom. Fill up two, one for you and one for Dirk."
"We're not going to drink it, are we?" she asked as she climbed off the bed.
Dirk watched her walk into the other room, her ass swaying back and forth in a mesmerizing way.
"You've got to stay hydrated," Fact-Tel said. "I'm only half way through manufacturing the antidote. I assume you want a dose for Dirk."
"Of course." Tina looked down at the sink. "What happened to our weapons?"
Faded words to a song flashed through Dirk's mind, but he couldn't quite remember the tune.
Tina splashed water on her face and then emerged from the bathroom with two cups of mostly clear water.
"Drink it down," Fact-Tel said. "I'll include a tetanus shot with the antidote."
Maybe it was the minerals in the water, but as soon as Dirk put his empty cup down on the night table, he started to feel dizzy. He stumbled toward the bed. If he was going to fall down, he might as well be lying down when it happened.
If only he had fallen. As soon as his knees touched the bed, he felt his body shrinking. Down, down he went while the world around him grew. The wrinkles in the blanket turned into yellow, rolling hills. He scrambled over one and found himself confronted with a mammoth wall, light peach in color. It was soft and warm to the touch. Tina's leg.
Instinct told him to climb. He pressed his tiny, naked body against her gigantic calf and pulled himself up. It was a lot of work, but so much fun rubbing against her. His teeny weeny wiener, the thickness of a needle, stiffened and poked against her massive flesh.
Dirk smiled. He had a literal prick. It didn't matter how miniscule he became, he'd always enjoy a bad pun.
When he reached the top of the wall, he pulled himself up onto the back of Tina's calf and ran along it until he reached her bent knee. Her thigh, creamy and smooth, stretched up into the sky. Dirk couldn't even see where it ended. He just knew he had to get up there.
Luckily, there was a ladder. He placed his foot on the first rung and started his ascent. Up, up he went. The air pressure was changing. He had to take deep, gulping breaths to get enough oxygen to his lungs. Hours passed and still he climbed. Days, months, years. His beard was long and gray when he finally made it to the top of the ladder.
Throwing his hands up over his head, Dirk yelled, "Yes! I did it!" He couldn't remember why he was there or what he'd done, just that he'd accomplished a great feat.
He was pumping his arms in the air, celebrating his victory, when it dropped into his hands, the hand bar from a trapeze. It dangled above him, like an invitation. Dirk grabbed on. He knew what he had to do. It all made sense now.
Kicking off from the ladder, he swung forward. "Wheeeee!" he cried as the wind rushed past him, blowing his hair and his long, unkempt beard away from his face. Ahead was a vulva, just hanging out, waiting for him.
They were lined up perfectly, Dirk and the vulva, so that when he hit it, he really hit it. His cock, his impressively sized cock, went right in. He nailed that bitch, filled her real good. Then he pushed off and swung back.
When the trapeze reached its apex, it slowed and then plummeted forward. Dirk held on tight and yelled "Wheeeeeee!" Then he did it all over again.
To be continued in part 5, By kittybeaver for Literotica.