Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Willy Tamarack
Title: More Juice !
Part: 7 of 12
Universe: 'Vegas
Summary:
Keywords: (MF 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 VII

   (MF oral)

   by

   Willy Tamarack

   In Tribute

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

   Chapter Nineteen

   "Yachtsman" had a bottle of Jack in one hand and his dope bag in the
other.  He was still in his wet suit but it was stripped to his waist. 
He'd been sacking out for two hours, almost exactly.

   Jill was still wearing her wet suit.  It was a bit chilly out.  He stood
there, holding his stash with his hands at his sides.  He was surveying the
weather.  The sky was black with thousands of twinkling stars.  The wind
had shifted and was coming out of the north west with gusts to twenty,
twenty five knots.  The ride was much rougher.

   He leaned over and kissed her.  "Thanks.  I needed that."

   "I know.  When we gonna start four and four ?"

   "After we smoke and drink a little.  Raise the sail.  And maybe fuck a
little.  Turn off the radar and I'll rig the main sail."

   "Aye, aye, Captain !" He moved forward and dumped the torpedo frame
overboard.  He got the main rigging set and then started to hoist the main
sail into position.  It was always a bitch to get the pole raised with the
radar properly aligned.  This would give them coverage out as far as their
power allowed.  They were now sailing in international waters.  Nobody was
going to fuck with them out here.  Very few could find them.

   The eastern horizon was starting to lighten.  "Yachtsman" was finished
up front and back sitting at the helm with Jill.  He'd slid his arms back
into his wet suit.  Jill was taking a hit off the bottle.  "Yachtsman" took
the bottle from Jill and pulled her toward him.  His tongue was inside her
mouth, fencing with her tongue.  She tasted of Jack Daniels.  Her breasts
were hardly apparent in the wet suit but you could see her hardened nipples
through the rubber.  You could also find Mike Minter's hard phallus in his
crotch.

   Mike pulled away from her.  "We did it, Jill.  All the training paid off
in spades, honey." He took a swig of Jack and a drag off the pipe.  "But
now we have to decide where to off load.  If they've been listening, then
they possibly know our home port is Balboa.  You think ?" He paused.  He
was still high from the encounter.  Jill was lighting the bowl.  After
taking a good long hit, she passed it to him.  He took a hit and passed it
back to her.  "We need to spend some quality time with this problem, babe.
At some point we're going to have to risk using the commercial satellite to
send email, using the backup accounts.  We've got some options here but
first I want to bury my cock in your nice behind, darling."

   Jill laughed and reached into Mike's crotch to feel his boner.  He was
pulling down the zipper of her wetsuit.  She was laughing again, her
breasts coming bare, nipples erect.  She was wrestling his wet suit off. 
Mike got to his feet and she got his cock out in the open.  Her mouth was
on him, her head bobbing on and off his cock.  Mike Minter, aka the
"Yachtsman," screamed out his joy as Jill sucked his cock.  The rising sun
was just visible above the horizon.  He could see the clouds associated
with the cold front ahead.  Her lips were working on the end of his dick,
her tongue digging right below the crown of his cock.

   He pulled her face off his cock and pulled her to her feet.  Jill pulled
the wet suit to her feet and stepped out of it, nude.  The wind was in her
face and cold.  Her nipples hurt.  She turned and bent to grab her ankles.
Mike wasted no time hooking up with her.  She was snug and warm.  He
started fucking her, spreading the cheeks of her butt with his thumbs.  Her
asshole was spread wide.  He fucked his dick all the way into her and held
it there.  It was only moments before she cried out.

   "Come on, Mike, fuck me !" He wasted no time fucking her until his cock
filled her womb with his seed, fucking her until his cum was leaking out of
her, rolling down her thighs.  He leaned over and kissed the back of her
neck as his cock slowly shrank and slipped out of her.  They were both very
warm where they met but the rest was shivering with the first taste of
fall. "Yachtsman" spanked her ass as she scampered down into the cabin.

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

   It was a little past one in the afternoon.  They had moved to a booth
way over in the corner, well away from the bar.  So that no one would
notice government employees drinking at this hour !?  Possibly.  The table
in front of them was littered with the remains of their lunch.  They were
into round number seven, eight ?  Who's counting ?

   "...should have followed them until morning.  Shit !  Followed them
until they came ashore again and then.  Whamo !" Anderson slapped the table
top.  Mindy grabbed his arm.

   "Shhsss.  You're making a scene.  Let's go upstairs.  I need a nap."

   Anderson looked over at the drunk woman beside him.  He had a semi-hard
cock several drinks ago when she rubbed his thigh for a while.  She'll need
a nap after I finish with her, he thought.  She was up and out of the
booth, settling the bar tab.  Shit !  It must be a mint.  God damn !  Agent
Mindy Weathers had a terrific ass on her, too.  The skirt was stretched
tight across her butt and she looked hot.  Twice she'd brushed her tits
against him.  His semi was coming back.

   Mindy glanced back at Anderson after she settled the bill.  She couldn't
help but notice.  It was right there in his slacks.  She quickly looked up
into his face but it was too late.  He'd noticed her interest and she was
sure that's what filled her face when she saw the nice fat cock in her
partner's crotch.  He smiled at her.  She smiled back and felt his arm go
around her; his hand sliding under her arm brushing the meat of her breast
as he guided her to the elevator.  Her nipples were visible in her blouse.
He was staring at them.

   As soon as the elevator doors closed, they were alone.  He pulled her to
him.  His mouth was on hers, his hands on her round ass, mashing her cheeks
together.  She could feel the lump of his cock between them.  She rubbed
herself against it, feeling his hands on her butt cheeks, squeezing them.
She hadn't had sex with a man in several years, preferring the company of
females and never, never if they worked for the outfit.  Maybe it was the
age thing ?  She knew he was twelve years older than she was and married.
It had to be the daddy thing.

   His tongue was still roaming around in her mouth.  The elevator door had
been open, how long ?  It started to close until Anderson pushed the open
door symbol.  He stood in the doorway while she passed him, his hardon
plainly visible in his slacks.

   "Your room or mine, Mindy ?"

   "Yours...Mine's a mess." He pulled her with one arm and dug in his
pocket for the room key, one of those plastic things.  He held the door as
she passed him and then followed her into his room.  He was taking off his
shirt as he walked.  She looked back at him.  The bed was still made.  He
tossed his shirt on the floor and came toward her.  His chest was covered
with salt and pepper colored hair.  He started at the top and slowly
unbuttoned her blouse.  She smiled as his hands filled themselves with her
bra covered tits.  Her hands went to his waist and soon his slacks were on
the way down.  His jockeys were full of hard cock.

   The blouse was on the way to the floor and his hands were behind her
unhooking her bra.  It joined the blouse and he was pushing her away so he
could stare at her tits, high up on her chest, large mounds of breast meat
with large, dark areolae and good slugs for nipples.  His hands dropped to
her waist, stripping off her skirt.  She was naked underneath the skirt. 
Anderson's boner jumped in his jockeys and Mindy quickly pulled them down
past his knees.

   It was a fat one.  She'd had longer but fatter, not so much.  She
grabbed it and started to jerk it.  One of his hands was between her legs.
Her cunt felt wet.  It was...His finger was in her...All the way in her. 
She grabbed his shoulders as she clung to him.  The orgasm was mild but she
knew others would follow.  They always did.  She kicked off her shoes and
sat on the bed.  His cock was waving around, hard as stone.  She kicked the
skirt away and spread her legs for him.

   Being in between girl friends, so to speak, Mindy hadn't tended to her
bush in a long time and it was a tangle of dark pubes.  Anderson sunk to
his knees and in moments had his mouth attached to her cunt lips, sucking
her brains out.  She thought she felt a finger slid into her and was
surprised as the orgasm rushed over her, then another one.

   "Come on, fuck me." It was begging.  She'd never.  Had to be the
excitement of the chase.  His fat cock was in her.  He had a hand on each
of her knees, spreading her legs apart.  She felt so naked.  Her tits were
bouncing up and down her chest, slapping her chin as he fucked her.  She
was sweaty and full of cock as he battered away at her spread loins.  It
felt good, his fat cock fucking in and out of her.  She was wet and gooie,
his cock moving in and out of her very fast, like a machine and then...He
exploded !

   He must have pumped five or six loads of cum into her.  She could feel
him become very slippery.  It was starting to leak down the crack of her
ass, over her asshole.  She squeezed him with her thighs.  He fucked deep
into her.  Another trickle down her asshole.  Anderson pulled out of her
and collapsed on the bed next to her.

   "I believe that was," he caught a couple of gulps of air, "what they
call," a couple of more breaths, "sexual harassment, Agent Weathers." He
gasped for air when he finished.

   She rolled into him.  She was wet.  He could feel her heat against him.
A breast was squashed between them.  "No, Agent Davies.  You are incorrect.
It would have been sexual harassment if you hadn't fucked me.  I need more.
It's been a while with a guy." She slid her arm under him and reached for
his cock.  It started to uncoil.

   Anderson rolled over.  He couldn't believe it.  He was getting another
boner.  What did this all mean ?

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

   "Snake" looked out over the lake.  The helicopter had been hangered at
Bryce Canyon for three days.  Carlos had been out and about two nights
since the shutdown but nothing had appeared out of the ordinary.  Maybe
"Yachtsman" had over-reacted ?  Casey was begging to get the system back up
and running.  "Snake" had told him "no" twice now.  The three of them had
been using super clean, brand new cell phones.  Since then not a word from
"Yachtsman."

   Colleen had stayed at the hacienda with "Snake" and Carlos.  She was out
sunbathing by the pool.  She also got a steady diet of hard cock out here
and that wasn't available back home.  She wondered how her husband was
doing ?  And her daughter ?  No action for seventy-two hours now.  She knew
Carlos was sniffing around every night.  He left at sunset and traveled by
boat to the casino.  Then who knows where ?

   She saw "Snake" looking out at the lake and waved.  He waved back then
looked back at his computer screen.  All the backup accounts had been
dormant.  "Yachtsman" must have been apprehended.  The fucker wasn't as
smart as he thought he was.  And no dope would really hurt the bottom line.
Now, "Snake" had to make sure he didn't fall into the same traps...Number
one being, underestimating your opponent.

   Chapter Twenty

   "Yachtsman" trimmed up the main sail.  Jill had been down for a couple
of hours now.  The "Viper" was making about four knots in bright sunlight
with just a little wind.  He'd considered putting into a port on the way
south but didn't like doing that when loaded with a couple of tons of weed.
No, he'd email one of the backup accounts and see what support he could
drum up.  He didn't like being out here without support.  Information was
the most important piece of the pie.

   He'd been online all morning and unable to find a single mention of any
coast guard action in any Canadian news reports.  But then the chance of
the authorities reporting failure was just about zero.  He was still very
concerned about the chances of being met by the authorities in Newport
harbor.  They would be cornered and have no where to run.  Out here they
would be very hard to corner and almost impossible to catch.

   "Yachtsman" was being realistic thinking they wouldn't be able to do
this alone.  They were going to need support at some point to off load the
weed.  There were a lot of boats in Newport Harbor and Balboa Bay.  The
authorities could possibly narrow their previous signal traffic down to an
area but if there were a hundred boats tied up in that area.  Well, that's
a lot of checking out people's stories to do...That takes a lot of
time...Like finding a needle in a hay stack.  He was putting his and Jill's
future on the line with this choice but was positive they could do their
home port.  It had to be quick and that would require a lot of help.  It
would all depend on whether "Snake" could pull it off.

   He was working on a draft email when Jill came topside.  He could smell
bacon cooking as soon as she opened the hatch.  She was just wearing a
robe. He knew she was naked underneath and could hardly wait to fuck her.
He was horny.  She handed him a packed bowl and he took a good hit of weed
before passing her back the bowl.  She was reading what he had written. 
She sat and changed a couple of words.

   "Hungry ?" Jill asked him.

   "Yea, for your pussy, Jill." She laughed and spread her robe open.  Next
came her legs.  She had shaved, her labia spreading a bit when she spread
her legs.

   Minutes later, she was at the helm as Mike Minter chowed down on her
very juicy cunt.  All thoughts of a message to "Snake" forgotten.

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

   Anderson Davies had just finished with the divorce lawyer.  He'd agreed
to give his wife half of everything but no alimony.  He lucked out.  She'd
get a part of his retirement too but that was only fair.  He didn't want a
fight.  He just wanted to end the marriage and start a new life with a new
career.

   Word of how close they came spread quickly.  They were heroes with the
rank and file.  Other members of the government team failed but the intel
that drove the operation was right on the mark.  The dope sailed.  There
was no doubt in any DEA agent's mind.  The intel put law enforcement in a
position to intercept.  Obviously that part of the equation needed work.

   The day they arrived back from the West coast Anderson moved everything
he owned into Agent Mindy Weathers' apartment.  He was now getting more sex
than he'd gotten in his life time.  He loved it and needed to buy some
pharmaceutical stock with the amount of Viagra he was taking.  He was
actually whistling as he drove back to the office late in the afternoon.

   As soon as he exited the elevator he knew something was up.  Agent
Weathers was not in their cubicle.  Hardly any of the cubes were filled
with agents.  He wondered where they were ?  He found the main briefing
room doors closed.  He peeked into the room.  The lights were bright and
shinning.  The chief of operations was standing at the podium

   "Come on in, Agent Davies, we were waiting for you.  Sit up front with
Agent Weathers." Everyone was looking back at Anderson.  He felt
self-conscious.  Mindy had this huge smile on her face.  A couple of agents
congratulated him as he walked to the front of the briefing room.

   "Okay.  Somebody check the back door and everyone check your cell phones
off.  Chief of Intel you've got the floor." The chief of operations moved
off the raised podium as the lights dimmed very low.  Mindy moved her knee
over until it was touching Anderson's thigh.  She leaned over.

   "Let me tell you, around here, this is big shit, Anderson."

   A chart with several different colored graphs appeared on the screen. 
The chief of intelligence began with very little background.  Everyone knew
that DEA's intel was what instigated the recent intercept attempt.

   "As usual some of this is speculation.  I'll try to be clear as we
proceed.  Questions as they pop up as usual.  Here we go.  Within five
minutes of the coast guard cutter getting radar contact with our drug
runner a message was sent from near that location thru the satellite to the
server farm.  The team is getting good at triangulating the transmissions.
Not as good in the Las Vegas area, only good to within a couple of miles."

   "The chart tracks the encrypted traffic in and out of the server farm
from one hour before radar contact until...Well, you can see for yourself.
Almost exactly two and a half hours later the system went down and it
hasn't come back up yet...Over seventy two hours of silence." He was taking
a swig from a glass of water.

   "We surmise that the drug runner knew almost immediately that he'd been
targeted and had planned for just such a contingency.  He sent out a
warning message then suckered the captain of the cutter into close contact
on purpose and using several crude but somewhat effective electronic
counter measures was able to effectively escape detection.  We're sure that
he planned on using the inclement weather as part of his counter measures.
We've spent a little time with satellite surveillance of that part of the
Pacific but it would be like finding a needle in a hay stack.  Any
questions so far ?"

   From the audience: "He knows he's escaped.  Why hasn't the system come
back up ?"

   "Good question and this is just a hunch.  Some of us think that he sent
a message causing the system to go down.  Why the delay ?  Who knows ? 
Maybe the guy who was supposed to get the message was out or something..."

   "Maybe he was getting stoned ?!" Came from the audience followed by a
lot of laughter.

   "Always a possibility but our drug runner certainly wasn't stoned the
morning he escaped.  I don't expect the rest of the organization to be any
less professional."

   "Okay then.  We're assuming the drug is marijuana.  That's what they
grow up there...High grade stuff for the Las Vegas market.  It's got to
come a shore some place so we're sending teams of agents to a lot of small
yacht harbors up and down the west coast.  We're trying to blanket a lot of
places from SF to San Diego.  That's the best we can do."

   "Okay, shifting gears...We've become interested in an individual who we
believe is connected to all this." The first photo flashed onto the screen.
It was a high school year book page.  The next slide was of an individual
on that page.  "This is `Snake.' At least that's the majority opinion in
analysis.  We have the locals in 'Vegas trying to track him down.  The name
on his birth certificate reads Eddie Edwards.  He's gone by `Snake' since
high school.  We're not sure where the nickname comes from or what it
means." His high school photo appeared as if the camera had been shaking
when the photo was taken.  Several more pictures of Eddie "Snake" Edwards
were flashed up on the screen, all at least fifteen to twenty years old.

   Someone from the audience inquired.  "Got anything more up to date ?"

   "Sorry, these are all high school yearbook photos and some stuff from
when he was in the Nevada Air Guard but none of it is any good.  There's
also some recent society page stuff but again it's not any better.  He
appears to avoid having his picture taken as far back as high school."

   Another inquiry from the audience.  "Can't we get a team on him and get
some better pictures ?"

   "About the time Agents Weathers and Davies left for British Columbia and
their coast guard cutter ride, `Snake' Edwards disappeared.  Like I said
we've got a team on it.  The week before the dope sailed, he was seen all
over town.  He's quite the social butterfly and charity worker and has a
lot of political contacts.  That's part of the problem in getting anything
done in Las Vegas, half the federal government is out there investigating
some form of corruption.  And the locals are real close to the powers that
be out there and it's not the federal government.  We've got people working
on his background.  So far we don't have much.  High school and college
records.  The guard records.  He appears to be an upstanding citizen.  One
particular story keeps popping up...That shortly after he left the Nevada
Air Guard..."

   Someone from the audience.  "What'd he do in the guard ?"

   "...Sorry, he flew cargo aircraft." There was some laughter from the
audience.  "I guess a lot of you have guessed already.  Hey, this shit is
just rumor." He paused for effect.  "It's rumored that he personally flew
three trips to someplace in either Central America or Columbia and brought
back a ton of cocaine each trip.  Right into that executive airport just
south of 'Vegas, trucked it to the casinos where they packaged it in the
counting rooms.  A fucking ton at a time.  We've heard this rumor from
three different sources.  It made him quite a reputation as a guy who could
get shit done.  We're sure that a lot of local people in 'Vegas make a lot
of money with this `Snake.' That gives him a lot of juice and please
remember, Las Vegas runs on juice."

   "We surmise that he used this dope money as seed money to get started in
'Vegas.  What exactly he does since leaving the air guard is unknown.  But
we suspect real-estate.  Everyone up there is into real-estate.  It's a
legal gold mine.  The government auctions off worthless desert and it's
scarfed up by speculators.  Since Nevada's laws don't allow for transparent
ownership of LLCs, it's surmised that a lot of the politicians are making a
killing as they're the ones making the zoning decisions.  They get paid
twice.  For their land and then for the zoning decision."

   Chapter Twenty-One

   The message appeared at three-fifteen p.m.  It was triple encrypted
using some identities that "Snake" hardly remembered.  He had to dig a
notebook out of the safe and then it took him over twenty minutes of
fooling around with passwords to finally see several paragraphs that he
could understand.
From: "Yachtsman"
To: "Snake"
They were waiting for us.  No doubt.  We weren't out of the inlet and
they were on to us.  The girl and I played dumb and at the last minute
crammed it down their throats.  Toys worked as advertised.  We escaped but

this is the last trip for this crew.  Plan accordingly.

   Will need assistance to download the cargo.  Believe it should disappear
all at once prior to us docking at home port.  Comm through the server farm
can no longer be considered secure.  Too many coincidences lately to
believe we're clean.  Your call on the next move.  My comm will remain thru
this account.  At least three weeks from home.

   Any other actions that can be attributed to the authorities ?  I imagine
Casey is hot to get the system back up and running.  Like I said, Snake,
your call.  Over and out.

   "Snake" sat back in his chair.  So the fucker escaped.  He was relieved
he hadn't lost the dope.  Now, how to get it off loaded ?  He'd have to
think about that.  The most pressing question was what to do about the
network ?  Unless there was a leak on Jay's end ?  He'd have to check that
out.

   He called Casey.  "Yo !  My man.  Start the music as soon as you can. 
Just for normal business.  No snow balls.  Want you and Colleen to secure
all accounts and move what you can to the most secure.  All important comm
to be through commercial accounts, triple encrypted.  I think someone out
there is sniffing around.  Questions ?"

   "Link will be active in ten minutes.  Understand restrictions.  Will get
on your tasks ASAP.  Maybe try to bait a trap ?  Problem with that ?"

   "No, that sounds like a very good idea, my man.  Over and out."

   "Rogeee, Ranger." Casey snapped his cell phone closed.

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

   "Yachtsman" felt refreshed when he woke.  He'd slept close to three and
a half hours.  He left the captain's quarters and checked the charge on the
batteries before he climbed topside.  Jill had one of the computers in her
lap.  She smiled up at him.

   "You've got mail !" She laughed.  She'd had her four hours of sleep four
hours ago and still felt very rested.  She'd shag a couple of hours of rack
time before her next shift.  He was munching on a sandwich.  She motioned
for him to take the helm.  As soon as he did she went below and made
herself a sandwich.  She was starved.

   "Yachtsman" quickly ran pgp with the correct sequence of identities and
the short, unscrambled message appeared on the screen.
From: "Snake"
To: "Yachtsman"
Congratulations !  Everyone here glad to hear you and Jill are on the
way home.  Working on our problem.  No other suspicious activity.  System

back up today.  Might be the silver bullet ?  But will keep checking six.

   "Yachtsman" fired up a bowl and took a giant drag.  He felt relieved
that maybe, just maybe, their encounter might just be one of those things.
Like "Snake" said, "the silver bullet." He wasn't totally convinced but
would accept the explanation for now.  He wondered how "Snake" planned on
getting the weed off the boat ?

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

   It took "Bonerboy" over thirty minutes of hard work to unscramble the
message.  He hadn't worked with pgp in a long time.  The software for the
satellite link did all that unless you just forgot to select encrypt.  This
email came through one of the commercial accounts he rarely used.  He only
checked the account today because he was directed to do so by "Snake"
through the network.  It was late.  He was ensconced at his home, an
apartment in Green Valley and he was sucking on a bowl full of weed.  He
took another drag and squinted to read the message.
From: "Snake"
To: "Bonerboy"

   Firefly02Oct0130

   Today was the second.  Fuck !  It was after one.  "Bonerboy" jumped up
off his couch and ran for the garage.  It was just short of one forty-five
when he strolled into a moderately crowded Firefly.  He sat at the bar and
ordered a Budweiser.  When he lifted the bottle he saw the message.  It was
on the napkin.  One word, "head." Daniel Haefner scooped up the napkin and
slipped off the bar stool.  As soon as he turned toward the restrooms he
noticed Carlos sitting over by the kitchen door.

   Daniel kept turning and moved off in the direction of the restrooms. 
"Snake" was standing at one of the urinals.

   "Sorry about the short notice, Daniel.  Thanks for hauling ass down
here. I just got a message from `Yachtsman' and I thought you'd want to
know."

   "The fucker made it then !?"

   "Yea, he made it.  But now we've got to get the dope off the boat and
transported.  I've got some ideas but it'll need a lot of staff work. 
There might be a lot of muscle required so vet accordingly.  No one.  I
repeat no one is to know the entire plan except you and I.  Got that ?"
Daniel Haefner nodded his head.  "Can I count on you ?"

   "Sure `Snake,' you can count on me.  When do you want me to start ?"

   "Right now, Daniel, you know the problem.  How would you get the weed
off the boat ?  And report to no one but me.  I think there may be some
watchers out there."

   "Understand, `Snake,' no one but you gets shit."

   "Daniel, another thing.  We're trying to burn some guys, setting up a
sting of sorts.  What we need is..."

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

   Casey showed up at the office unannounced.  Colleen was out front and
tried to enter "Snake's" office with him but Casey backed her away. 
"Sorry, hon, just `Snake' and me today."

   With the door firmly closed behind him, Casey began, "Okay...I figure an
unencrypted message about some order or such and then an encrypted party
announcement.  We pick an address that we can observe through our
distribution system.  If they bust the party, it's time to do something
drastic.  That fucking time on the satellite is expensive and if it's being
watched...Well, there's not much we can do to stop them...And mistakes are
impossible to stop.  It's just a matter of time."

   "Snake" leaned back in his chair.  "It might be time to just get behind
a firewall and run our own network.  The fucking banks do it.  So does just
about everyone else.  Some use satellite, some use land lines.  It's all
encrypted so what's the difference ?"

   "They're legal."

   "Oh..."

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

   Jake Morrison leaned against the house.  He was standing in his parent's
driveway.  He'd been observing the houses surrounding his for over five
minutes.  He knew some of his neighbors but didn't know others so he spent
quality time observing his neighborhood.  He didn't want to be surprised.

   Everything looked normal.  Jake casually walked down the driveway and on
to the sidewalk.  It was a short block and a half to the park.  Twilight
was past and it was becoming dark in a hurry.  He dialed as he walked.

   "Hey !  Tilly, doll.  It's Jake.  Okay if I stop by for a cup of beans
?"

   "Sure, Jake." He closed the connection.  He was out of the park and
heading toward Warm Springs.  He watched the traffic light, trying to time
his pace to allow him to cross without standing at the corner for thirty
seconds or more.  The light turned green just before Jake arrived at the
corner.  He looked both ways before crossing.  He heard this story once
about a dealer who got hit while crossing the street and he was holding. 
He got busted after getting out of the hospital.  What a bummer !

   Jake liked Tilly Matterhorn.  She was a cute senior and liked to get her
dope at a deep discount which usually meant Jake would get to fuck her for
a while after they did the deal.  She wanted two ounces this evening.  Jake
liked that; she was a steady performer.

   Jake observed every house as he walked along the sidewalk.  Two houses
before Tilly's he slowly moved up a driveway and stood in some bushes. 
Three minutes went by.  Not a face had appeared in a window nor a person
watering their lawn.  It was almost totally dark now.  Jake stepped on to
Tilly's neighbor's lawn and moved toward her house.  He was watching again
from between the houses, crouched down against the house.

   In one quick movement, Jake was up and over the wall and into Tilly's
backyard.  He moved off toward her back porch.  He looked through the
sliding glass doors and into the den.  Tilly was sitting on the couch in
her shorty night shirt.  Her legs were spread and Jake could plainly see
the young lady's snatch.  Jake flexed his cock.  It responded.  He stepped
into view.  Tilly jumped off the couch and ran toward the sliding glass
doors, her small titties bouncing up and down.



   Continued in

   "More Juice !"
   Book Eight