Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: More Juice !
Part: 3 of 12
Universe: 'Vegas
Summary:
Keywords: (MF reluc oral)
Language: English
@(C) 2008 Willy Tamarack Commercial use in any form requires the written
permission of the author and will ensure a portion of the proceeds goes to

the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML).

   !!!!!  ATTENTION !!!!!

   Before we get going here, a couple of notes.  The following is a sex
story.  A stroke story.  A porno story.  The content is unsuitable for
youngsters and some adults may find it objectionable.  I've ensured my
material is properly coded and registered.  Adults, who have custodial
responsibility for young minds, must ensure this smut doesn't fall into
their children's hands.  To charge the government with that
responsibility...Wow !  Don't get me started.

   This story is total fantasy.  It is fiction.  Made up.  As a friend of
my wife calls it, MSU (made shit up).  Las Vegas - The City of JUICE.  The
mobsters coined it but left it to the politicians.  The politicians used it
to enrich the usual suspects.  Their families and friends for sure.  Some
claim it's dead after the recent conviction of several county commissioners
for taking bribes.  They're wrong.  JUICE is alive and well.  Sometimes
it's money.  Sometimes it's sex.  Sometimes it's just an introduction.  The
currency is immaterial.  It's called JUICE !

   And while the plot and subplots of the following tale stem from the
author's fertile imagination; the characters...Well, the characters are
also total fantasy.  They don't exist, never have and never will.  Any
public figures mentioned are for back ground and time line purposes only.

   Remember now...Sex should be fun !  As always e-mail your comments to
the usual.

   More Juice !

   Book III

   (MF reluc oral)

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   In Tribute

   With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S.  Constitution

   Chapter Seven

   Frank A.  Rogers, aka Osama Azzam, eased into the parking lot of the
rundown motel.  He'd been moving every couple of weeks.  Living up and down
the Boulder Highway then alternating downtown for a couple of weeks.  There
were a lot of places you could stay where nobody asked too many questions.
This joint was located in downtown Las Vegas, far away from the famous
"strip." He'd been checking out the area for several days both on foot and
in the vehicle.  Lots of unsavory characters hanging around at all hours.
He saw that the staff was changing as he pulled into the parking space so
he wasted little time getting out of the truck and heading toward the
office.

   Maria Lopez was signing in her cart.  The hotel was strict.  Her
supervisor was inspecting it before she was allowed to clock out.  She
noticed him right away.  It was the way his eyes shifted around, never
looking in one direction for long.  He also looked familiar, very similar
to the man she had identified back in 2001.  That identification was worth
almost everything to Maria Lopez.  It started her on the path to
citizenship after living in the Estados Unidos for fifteen years.

   Azzam was standing at the desk.  He was hoping that this was his
brother's last contact address.  All he had was a description, something
his brother wrote in one of his letters.  Six months had passed since he
entered the USA illegally.  He'd visited countless places like this.  It
was in God's hands; his brother may have left nothing ?

   He told the clerk that his brother had been killed in a traffic
accident. The clerk doubted that anything would be left after that long but
he'd check.  It took forever.  He noticed the Mexican woman and wondered
how long she had been standing there ?  She wasn't staring at him but had
made eye contact with him twice.  He wished the clerk would hurry up.  She
was picking up a bundle of towels.

   The clerk was back.  "Yes, sir.  This was left by your brother.  It was
found on the shelf in the closet.  At least that's what the tag says.  If
you would sign here."

   Azzam bent and signed the slip of paper.  He took the shaving kit and
quickly departed the office.  After throwing the shaving kit into the
passenger seat, he took one last look around.  He hadn't seen the Mexican
woman since she took out the towels.  He eased the Ford 150 out into
traffic and immediately turned off the street the hotel was located on.

   Maria was standing at the edge of the building.  She was staring at the
receding pickup truck.  It was just like her brother's only tan instead of
white.  December registration but she couldn't make out the plates.  Heavy
duty tires.  He was gone.  She reached into her uniform pocket for her cell
phone and paged through her contacts.  There he was.  Just "Carlos." He
told her to call him directly if she ever noticed anything suspicious. 
This certainly fit that description.  The guy took a shaving kit away with
him.  She was sure it was owned by the one she identified years ago.  Why
didn't she think of checking that ?

   It was ringing.  She looked at her watch.  It was five-thirty in the
afternoon and very hot.  It was the hottest part of the day.

   "Carlos here.  Who's speaking."

   "Senor Carlos, es Maria Lopez..." She spoke uninterrupted for almost a
minute and a half.  It was very organized for a woman who had but a fifth
grade education.  She was breathing quickly when her narration ended.  She
hadn't repeated a single statement either, very unusual.  Carlos was
impressed.

   "Senora Lopez, are you still at work ?"

   "Si, Senor Carlos."

   "Please hold on this line.  I'll be right back.  Si ?"

   "Si, Senor Carlos."

   Carlos put her on hold and called down to the garage.  "Frankie, I want
you to take the limo and head downtown.  I'll get you the destination in a
couple of minutes."

   "I'm on it, boss."

   Now back to Senora Lopez.  "Senora Lopez, Carlos here.  This is what I
want you to do..." Carlos went on for several minutes.

   Maria put her cell phone away and moved out on to the sidewalk.  She had
missed her bus but Carlos said he would arrange for her to get home.  He
also said that he would pick up her husband.  Maybe she could talk Pedro
into taking her out to dinner ?

   She walked slowly and followed Carlos' instructions exactly.  She was
excited.  She knew this meant that she would get a big reward, especially
if they caught him.  The last time it was worth a green card for both her
and Pedro.  Plus !  They got five thousand dollars !

   Carlos had arranged for the artist to be picked up.  Frankie was going
to coordinate the rendezvous and get the drawing on the net as soon as
possible, followed up with wanted posters.  He sat on the couch in the
reception area before going to see "Snake".  He wished the "Yachtsman" was
here.  He liked to run his briefings by him before giving them to the
group. "Yachtsman" was an action man like Carlos was and was a good
sounding board for his ideas.  Carlos stared at the TV.

   Trina Sanchez was just finishing up the weather forecast.  Carlos
couldn't take his eyes off of her.  He'd met her over a year ago in one of
the "strip" night clubs.  A hot looking, young Hispanic woman with a huge
bust, tiny waist and great ass.  He wanted to fuck her the first time he
met her.  He saw her a couple of times after that but nothing ever came of
it until he found out she was interested in an opening on the evening
weather for one of the local television stations.  The rumor was that the
station execs thought her tits were too big for television !  In 'Vegas, no
less.

   Regardless, Carlos made it happen.  He knew the right people and better
yet had provided services for the same.  A couple of hints and Trina
Sanchez was getting a start on the morning news which in this town is
watched by just about the same number as the evening news.  It was a start.
Carlos attended her first broadcast.  Now she was doing stand-ins for the
evening weather.  He'd have to give her a call.

   Carlos snapped back to the here and now.  He stood.  He went over the
facts and was ready with rational for each move that he'd made.  He pushed
into "Snake's" office.  He was on the phone.  Colleen was with him.  Her
stunning good looks always made him look twice.  She was becoming a good
team member and was a super fuck to boot.  "Snake" motioned for him to sit.
He did.  Should he brief "Snake" with the woman here ?

   "...Commissioner...Commissioner.  I'm just trying to arrange for the
zoning I was promised when the property was first purchased.  Remember,
dear, you're a member of the same LLC as I am.  Plus all the extra
dividends that seem to accrue.  You and your husband are doing quite well.
So let's get this behind us and concentrate on getting you re-elected. 
I've heard some rumors that you may be seeking higher office."

   "Snake" listened for a few moments and then burst out laughing.  "You
know I'm always willing to help the right people.  Money is drowning this
town.  I doubt you'll have to resort to my resources.  Hey, dear, are you
going to the raffle this weekend ?"

   "Snake" listened for a moment or two.  "Well then I'll see you there. 
Good of you to call, Commissioner.  Love you, dear." "Snake" hung up the
phone and immediately looked over at Carlos.

   "What do you got ?"

   Carlos spent five minutes briefing the two of them.  "Snake" made no
move to stop him so he plowed on and outlined the action he'd taken.  The
woman got up while he was still speaking and moved to the bar.  Carlos
watched her mix two very generous Jack Daniels on the rocks.

   Carlos finished talking.  Colleen handed him one of the drinks and then
moved over by "Snake".  "Snake" took the drink out of her hand and raised
it high.

   "Fucking `A' great job, Carlos !  Blow jobs all around." Colleen started
laughing.  So did Carlos.  He also took a long swallow of "Jack".

  
***************************************************************************

   Azzam let the pickup speed up once he was across the dam.  He was on his
way to Phoenix and could see the lights of 'Vegas in the rear view mirror.
He was imagining dimming some of them.  His brother hadn't made it out of
that hell and he was going to make it his.

   He drove all the way without a stop and chose a motel on the outskirts,
south of the metropolitan area.  After registering, he parked the pickup in
the back and reconned the area around the motel thoroughly before he went
to his room.  He had a different ID for every phase of the mission.  He was
John Roberts today.  He forced himself to rest before he inspected the
shaving kit.  This was now the most dangerous part of the mission.  Finding
a support group inside the United States.  The brothers who helped him in
southern Arizona were not to be used again.

   Those in Afghanistan assured him that his brother had on his person,
written, coded instructions for safe houses and "brothers".  But these
assets would probably be compromised.  Today the "base" was much more
fragmented.  Most cells were totally wiped out.  Some cells were little
more than rumor.  Those in Afghanistan were sure that the americans were
rounding up innocent muslims and throwing them behind bars just to stir up
unrest and prejudice against the muslim faith.  Unfortunately, most of
those picked up did have terrorist connections.  It's hard to hide the
electronic trail that communication over long distances entails today.

   What those in Afghanistan didn't understand was that today's america was
very much different than the one they attacked in 2001.  Foreigners were
being watched.  Foreign vacationers were not as plentiful as they were in
the nineties.  Who wanted to be strip searched just because you take your
family to see the Grand Canyon or Disneyland ?  Azzam was pleased the
Americans did this to themselves.  But he was also glad that he wouldn't
have to use air travel to complete his mission.



   Chapter Eight

   Out at Sea - August 2005

   "Yachtsman" was at the helm.  Jill was down below, sleeping.  Their two
guests were sunbathing in the nude out in front of him if he cared to look.
But he'd seen it all before, in more intimate circumstances.  "Yachtsman"
fired up laptop number one and waited for the system to come up then
searched for the satellite; got a lock then google mapped the area they
were headed to, looking for patterns.  The radar was in full three-sixty
sweep mode.  One sweep per minute, plenty enough for out here.  They were
well out to sea and would come into the marina from the northwest.

   The girls would be spending the year on the farm.  Jay's helpers from
this harvest would leave after these two got settled on the farm; most of
the harvesting and all the packing and storing had been completed.  These
two would be spending the winter studying how to become farmers and then
working on the farm during the spring and summer.  After the harvest next
year they'd be off with their ill gotten gains.  Fifty "g's" was a lot of
money to these girls and would allow them to start new lives just about
anywhere.  It was never a challenge, finding willing, young women.  They
were plentiful, especially on the west coast and in 'Vegas.
To: "Snake"
From: "Yachtsman"

   Smooth sailing so far.  Another two weeks at least.  Keep you advised.

   "Yachtsman" spent a little over ten minutes looking over weather reports
and tide information.  Wind forecasts looked promising.  They might arrive
a little earlier.  A low pressure system was coming south out of the Gulf
of Alaska but he was sure it would be repelled by the dominant summer high
over the western United States.  Smooth sailing ahead.  He fired up lap top
number two and set up some computer simulations.  He also lit up a great
big joint.  One of the girls up front, as if she smelled it, got to her
feet.

   She had lovely tits.  Almost softball size and firm as her thighs.  They
bounced very little as she moved aft.  Sandy was her name.  He couldn't
remember her last name.  Cathy was the other one.  Sandy was tall and
stacked.  Cathy was short and flat, nice nipples, though.

   "Sandy, how about getting me some tea ?" She just nodded and disappeared
below.  Fuck !  It had taken him three days to get them to keep the hatch
shut at all times.  He'd run several exercises with them, you know, if the
boat started taking water or a huge storm just happened to catch them. 
That sort of shit.

   Jill came topside with his tea.  "Sandy's racking out a bit.  She's
going to keep me company tonight." Yachtsman looked at his watch.  It was
eighteen hundred hours.  He was off in two hours.  He shut down number two
computer and brought up the satellite on number one.

   "How about taking the helm while I take a piss ?"

   "Sure."

   He stood down wind and dropped his trunks.  His stream arced into the
ocean.  Jill was taking a hit off his pipe and paging through weather
reports.  "Yachtsman" smiled.  He'd taught her well.  The best crew he'd
ever had.  The others were adequate but he always feared a true emergency
with them.  Jill was different.  He jumped down onto the deck and stretched
a bit before he took over the helm again.

  
***************************************************************************

   A man and woman were sitting in a government issue, unmarked sedan
parked down the street from Clark County Commissioner Tiffany "Tiffy"
Packard's three million dollar estate.  It was over two acres and
surrounded by a forest of trees.  The Commissioner had arrived home just an
hour ago.  The agents watched her drive by in her brand new Mercedes.

   A cell phone rang in the sedan.  One of the agents answered it on the
second ring.  "Carpenter."

   "Bring her in." The call ended.

   Karen Carpenter spoke.  "Let's go.

   The other agent started the car and they slowly rolled forward toward
Commissioner Packard's estate.

   "Tiffy" was on the phone when her youngest daughter burst into the room,
immediately followed by the two agents.  "Sorry.  I'm going to have to go."
The commissioner hung up the phone and stood.  She was a small woman,
barely reaching five feet.  Her blonde hair was bleached and cut short,
framing a very attractive face with pouty lips and deep blue eyes.  The
eyes were helped along with contact lenses.  She was a trim woman with
small breasts and a nice fanny.  Her political power came from somewhere
but no one was quite sure where; back east was the guess ?  Her looks
helped.

   "Tiffany Packard ?" It was Agent Carpenter.  "Tiffy" nodded her head. 
She suspected they were government.  "Please answer verbally, mam." She was
positive now.

   "Yes, I'm Tiffany Packard." Her husband was still at his office,
probably fucking that new medical records technician he hired last month.
She looked at her watch.  One of the agents was coming toward her with
handcuffs.  Tiffany Packard broke out in a sweat.....

   .....The room was small and filled with stale air.  It had a very close
feeling that made her feel unclean.  It was also overly warm and she was
perspiring.  Her underarms were damp.  She could smell herself or maybe it
was fear ?

   The door opened.  She stood.  "Why haven't I been able to call my
attorney ?  I refuse to speak with anyone unless my attorney is present."

   "Sit down, Commissioner.  You get but one chance on this one.  You make
the wrong choice and you'll be sitting in a prison cell long after your
kids have graduated from high school.  You'll be a real old lady by then,
Commissioner."

   Fear coursed through the blonde county commissioner standing across from
the federal agent.  He saw the guilt written all over her face.  She was
going to break right now.  These politicians were all the same, weak.  "Sit
down, Commissioner." She meekly sat and lowered her face into her hands.

   The questions started slowly but then all of a sudden there was three of
them.  All men and they were relentless.  Over and over with the same
questions.  Her scripted answers stopped sounding logical long ago but she
continued on, playing only for time.

   There was no way she could account for the vast amounts of cash that
moved through her campaign accounts during the last election.  She couldn't
explain it because she didn't want to tell them that she got it in a paper
shopping bag.....

   .....She remembered the first time.  The call came a little after
midnight.  Her husband wanted to know who it was ?  She had to tell him to
shut up twice.

   "I'm sorry I didn't hear you.

   "Pay attention, Commissioner.  Valet park your car at the Belagio.  I'll
pick you up there.  One A.M.  Be on time." The phone went dead in her ear.

   She jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom.  Her campaign was in
dire straights.  In short, it was broke.  Her opponent was being bankrolled
by a consortium of developers who were disturbed with several of her votes
on the commission.  She tended to defer to the local boys on matters of
zoning and that put a lot of developers in a not so generous mood.

   She'd let certain groups know that she was in need.  That she would do
anything.  These were whispered conversations in the back seats of limos
after a late lunch.  She knew several groups of people who needed to have
certain zoning issues go their way.

   She was early and that was a good omen.  She didn't spend much time on
the "Strip" at this time of night and was standing at the curb when a drab
foreign compact pulled up at precisely one a.m.  She bent to look into the
vehicle.

   "Get in the car, commissioner." She quickly got into the car and off
they went.

   "Well, commissioner, you must be in the real deep shit if I'm the one
you turn to at this ungodly hour." Of course she recognized him but she had
no idea what he did for a living or that he was connected to these
particular zoning issues.  This was some big money here.

   "I don't recall your name, sir ?" This asshole could be an undercover
cop of some kind she thought.

   "We're way beyond that, Commissioner Packard...Tiffany.  Such a Las
Vegas name.  And `Tiffy,' just slutty enough for this town.  We've met a
dozen times and yet you forget my name.  And shit !  I've got a bag of cash
waiting for you at my condo.  One hundred thousand reasons to remember my
name, `Tiffy.' You'll pay for that, honey.  Fasten your seat belt."

   He took the next turn off the strip and now they were headed east on
Flamingo.  Several turns later, they were back on the "Strip" and then into
an underground garage behind one of the casinos.  He had a card for an
electronic gate and then they were descending to another lower level. 
There was a valet waiting for them and a single elevator.  The elevator
door was open.  There didn't appear to be any room for parking at this
level.

   "We're here, 'Tiffy.' Get that cute, little butt of yours out of the
car."

   She was going to say something but decided not to.  She needed the money
and didn't have it yet.  She'd give a few people a little heart burn over
this incident.  She followed him into the elevator.  There were just two
arrows for buttons - up and down.  "Snake" Edwards pushed the up arrow.  He
was going to enjoy fucking her.

   Chapter Nine

   The elevator door opened into a hallway.  "Snake" guided her to a door
that was opened with the same card he used to enter the private level of
the garage.  Tiffany really had no idea where she was but noticed the room
was well decorated, very expensive.  There was a large stand-up bar against
the far wall and a unbelievable large glass desk between it and where she
stood.

   The lighting was dim but she had no trouble finding the shopping bag
full of cash.  It was under the desk.  She lost track of where her host
was. She found him at the bar.

   "Drink ?" He called to her.

   "No thank you, whoever you are." She was getting her confidence back.

   "Cut the shit, Tiffany.  The only reason I'm here is because you said
you would do anything.  I was sent to find out what 'anything' meant.  And
then parlay that into collateral so that the money doesn't just disappear
into one of your off-shore accounts.  Capise ?"

   Tiffany Packard hardly followed what he was talking about.  But at the
mention of the off-shore accounts a chill ran up her back.  How did he know
about them ?  He was bringing her a drink.  She accepted the drink and not
really knowing what it was, took a sip.  It was bourbon.  He was
controlling the encounter and she still had no real idea who he was ?

   "What do you mean 'collateral' ?" He was staring right into her eyes
from less than three feet away.  It made her feel very small.  He was
smiling at her.

   "Well, what do you have that I might want ?" The smile was quite wicked
looking and Tiffany looked away.  "Take another sip, Commissioner.  I
believe we're going to have a bonding moment here in a short while.  What
do you have right here with you that I might be interested in ?"

   Tiffany felt another chill come over her then a flash of electricity
rushed up her spine.  Her nipples got hard almost instantly.  She turned
away from him.  He couldn't mean sex ?!  He just couldn't but what else did
she have but her body ?  She took a couple of steps away from him then
turned back toward him.  The distance was defensive.  She was beginning to
realize that if she wanted the money she was going to have to complete this
deal.  The distance made her feel stronger, closer to his height.

   "Come on, honey.  I want that cute little butt of yours on that couch."
He nodded toward the very long couch against the wall opposite the desk
then moved toward the desk and sat.

   Tiffany sat on the couch.  She couldn't help but notice that his legs
were spread under the desk.  It was all glass.  She looked up at him.

   "You know what it is, Tiffany.  It's what you and your husband no longer
do." She had goose bumps break out all over her neck and shoulders.  Her
nipples were totally erect and she couldn't hide them with her arms.  He
was smiling that wicked smile at her again.  She looked away.

   "That's not going to help you, Tiffany.  You don't get the money until
you do me.  You know what that means.  Word is you've done it before." He
just stared at her.  She took another sip of her drink.  How did this guy
know so much ?  Now he was grabbing his crotch.  She spied a boner in his
pants.  He must know she could see him.  Still, he was smiling at her.

   "Come on, Tiffany.  Get comfortable.  Kick off the shoes.  Lose the
skirt and blouse." She was flushed with perspiration.  There was no longer
any doubt.  He wanted to fuck her.  She would probably have to suck his
cock, too.  She looked away.  He laughed.  "You're going to like it too,
aren't you ?"

   He was out from around the desk and heading toward her.  He had a boner
in his slacks, a big one.  It moved when he walked.  She looked up at him.
He was standing close and towering over her.  She couldn't escape.  He was
opening his belt and now his slacks were coming open.  She tried looking
away.  He grabbed the top of her head and turned her face so that she had
to watch while he opened and dropped his slacks to the floor.  He wasn't
wearing underwear and was partially erect.

   Her mouth was close to the head of his penis.  Now his cock head was
against her lips.  She couldn't keep them closed and soon had about three
inches of hardening meat in her mouth.  "Snake" was getting hard very fast.
He pushed more of his turgid meat into her mouth.

   "Suck my cock, commissioner." He had a hand on each ear, pulling and
pushing her mouth on and off his dick and getting very hard.  She was
starting to sweat in her clothes.  Her cunt was getting very damp; inside
her panties was very humid.  Her mouth was full of his cock.  It was
assaulting her lips and mouth, her throat was feeling a poke with each
thrust.  She had never been used this way and could not think of a lover
who would spread a rumor that she loved to suck cock ?

   "Snake" was ready to fuck the county commissioner.  He wanted to watch
his cock poking in and out from between the cheeks of her tight ass.  He
was fully erect.

   "Come on, honey.  Time to do a little fucking." He was kicking off his
loafers and getting out of his slacks.  He was naked below the dress shirt,
his cock poking up, making a tent in the shirt.  "Word has it that you love
to fuck.  Get on your knees and get that skirt up over your ass,
commissioner." It was a command and Tiffany Packard was not used to taking
orders.  She didn't move but instead took a sip of her drink.

   "Cute, commissioner.  "Snake" closed the distance and dropped to his
knees at her feet.  His hands shoved her skirt up over her hips and there
she was with her pantied crotch visible to his view.  She struggled to push
her skirt down over her hips.  He just laughed.

   In one swift movement, "Snake" pushed her knees apart and forced himself
between them.  Her movements were becoming frantic.  Her panties were what
you would expect from a middle-aged wife and mother, plain white with a
little lace at the hip.  Her struggling was making her butt cheeks tense up
and her camel toe was right there.  "Snake" rubbed his fingers against her
lips.  Her panties were tight against her crotch, some brown pubic hair was
escaping from the crotch of her panties.

   Tiffany knew that if he got his fingers into her she was doomed.  Forced
or not when she was this wet, she'd be out of control in minutes.  She
wondered if her "secret" lover told him that ?  He was pulling the crotch
of her panties aside and now his fingers were in her pubic hair.  She could
feel his fingers against her vagina.  She was going to fuck him.  She was
sure now.  There was no backing out now.  A hundred grand for a piece of
ass.  She felt she was worth it.

   Her hips started moving about as soon as he slipped a finger into her.
She was not tight in any sense of the word.  That was okay with "Snake" as
he liked a woman who wasn't small down there.  The smaller they were the
less they seemed to like fucking.  In moments he had three fingers in her,
rotating around like a mix master.  She'd given up any pretense of
struggling and was eagerly undulating her hips around as he reamed her out
with his fingers.

   The commissioner was out of control.  She had her arms straightened out
against the cushions of the couch.  Her ass was half off the couch, her
legs spread wide.  Her crotch was naked and he was shoving fingers in and
out of her.  Her feet were on the ground.  He was on his knees between
them. She tried raising her head but couldn't because her legs were
thrusting her crotch up at his ravaging hand.

   "Snake" pulled his fingers out of her.  Her cunt was a mess of damp,
brown pubic hair and spread, pink cunt.  He stood and stroked his cock a
couple of times.  He'd lost a little of his hardon.

   "Sit up, Tiffy." She was still half lying on the couch with her legs
spread around his feet.  She struggled to sit up.  "Snake" grabbed her
blouse and pulled her up into a sitting position.  His other hand went to
the back of her head and in moments her mouth was full of his cock but not
before he pulled his foreskin back and showed her the "snake" head. 
"Snake" Edwards.  "Tiffy" Packard remembered as "Snake's" cock head ran
into the back of her throat.  "Snake" Edwards was his name.

   "Snake" had been fucking her mouth for a while now.  He had her stripped
down to nothing but her sandals.  He was sure Casey was getting some great
video.  The bitch didn't have a bad little body and did love to suck cock.
That fucking "Yachtsman" is always able to find the dirt.  He was close to
losing his load and pulled "Tiffy's" mouth off of his cock by her hair. 
His other hand was stroking his cock and it wasn't until the first burst of
semen hit her face that the commissioner realized what was happening.  Two
more shots splashed onto her forehead and then the crown of her blonde
hair. "Snake" yanked her face back to his cock and coaxed a few more
dribbles on to her cheek before shoving his cock back into her mouth.  He
could tell she was horny for more.  She was nibbling on him.....

   .....She had already answered this question several times and the answer
always seemed so lame.  The two in the corner were laughing.  She was
startled when the door to the room burst open and a man in a gray suit with
a green tie slowly walked into the room.

   "Commissioner Packard do not say one more word.  Gentleman this
interview is over and will be of little use to you as I'm sure my client
asked for her attorney to be present as soon as you brought her down here.
Please leave."

   He leaned down as the door was being shut and whispered to her, "`Snake'
sent me." He straightened up and took her elbow as she got to her feet.

  
***************************************************************************

   The two agents strained to listen to the tape.  They had been at it
since the commissioner and her attorney left the room.  The tape had been
enhanced three levels and now the computer was going through it's magic.

   "I'm positive he said `snake.' I think it's the mfwic's (mother-fucker
what's in charge) call sign.  This is the break we've been waiting for. 
I'm betting my career on this one !"

   Continued in

   "More Juice !"
   Book Four