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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: agent25.txt (MF, cons, oral, celeb)
Authors name: Carnage Jackson (carnagejackson@hotmail.com)
Story title : Journal of an Agent: Alyson Hannigan
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. This story
may be distributed freely, for commercial or non-
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Journal of an Agent: Chap. 25 - Alyson Hannigan
By Carnage Jackson (carnagejackson@hotmail.com)
***
(In the last chapter, our hero Dean was run off the road
by a mysterious man in a large black truck. Plunging off
the guard rail off a cliff into the cold, blue Pacific
ocean below, we pick things up in mid air, moments from
impact into the water)
***
It's true what they say about your life flashing before
your eyes right before you think you are going to die.
For me, that happened in those few seconds right before
my BMW landed like a breaching whale into the dark ocean
off the California coast. I saw lots of things and lots
of people - my family, my friends, the girls who had
broken my heart, the girls I had fallen in love with and
all the flings and one night stands in between.
I could see nothing in front of me beyond the black
horizon that the headlights lit up, a dizzying sense of
floating overwhelming me as I braced for the thud into
the water. By some sort of miracle, my car managed to hit
the water almost completely level, the front end where
the engine lay pulling me down only slightly. Whatever
you can imagine falling off a cliff over 100 feet into
water below is nothing compared to what it really feels
like.
With all the grace of a brick hitting concrete, my car
smacked into the crashing surface of the waves with a
jolt, sending my head rocketing towards the roof of the
car painfully, the force of the hit enough to break my
jaw, my mouth filling with blood immediately. And for a
moment, just a split second, after I hit the water, I
felt like I was going to be okay. As if the water would
somehow float my car and let me gently swim away from it
to shore.
But then the reality of physics took hold and I began to
sink, nothing but deep ocean bottom beneath me to stop
the plunge. The first thing I felt after I hit was the
icy cold January water seeping in through the cracks at
the doors. Slowly at first, then coming in as a torrent,
the air escaping from cracks and holes in the cars frame
work that I didn't even know existed. The water rose
quickly, first to my ankles, then to my knees, and then
to the middle of my chest, before I even had a chance to
react.
The engine had gone dead now, all that fancy safety
technology for walking away from an accident useless as I
sank. I struggled with my seat belt, my instincts taking
over now as I didn't act rationally but only like an
animal, struggling to survive. I saw out of the corner of
my eye the surreal image of the water overtaking the
night sky above me as I sank. The water was up to my neck
now as I lifted my head towards the roof, grasping at all
the air I could suck into my lungs.
My body was cold, colder than I had ever been in my life,
as the water finally finished seeping in, filling every
available pocket of space in the vehicle. I held my
breath, opening my eyes to look around in the murkiness
of the vehicle, trying to make out familiar shapes.
Thankfully, the headlights of the car were still somehow
on, allowing me enough light to tell what was up and what
was down. My mind raced as I tried to think of what I had
in my car that was heavy, what I could use to break the
window and swim out, my only chance for survival now.
I felt the car gently land with a thud on the bottom of
the sea floor, the front plowing softly into the mud and
mirk, kicking up dirt all around me. Half swimming, half
leaning, I felt around in the backseat for something,
ANYTHING to help me. My lungs burned now, running out of
air as I frantically tried to escape. I had always been
able to hold my breath longer than my childhood friends
growing up, and I hoped that skill would pay off now. My
head felt dizzy now, things becoming black all around me
as the car belched and spit out gases and air from...the
trunk? Yes, of course!
I grabbed onto the back seat of the car, feeling around
blindly for the switch that I knew would lower the seat
and open up into the trunk. My hand finally touched onto
a hard piece of plastic and I yanked, pulling hard. The
pressure inside the car fought me, but after a moment I
was able to get the seat down and see inside the pitch
black of the trunk. I jammed my body halfway in, seeing
that the trunk had not yet filled totally with water (God
bless those Germans and their water tight design, I
thought). I pushed my nose to the surface by the roof of
the trunk, my face hitting the metal of the inside as I
inhaled a whiff of life saving air. The water from the
rest of the car was quickly filling in, gurgling like a
stream into the air pocket.
Wedging my whole body now inside the trunk, I felt around
for what I knew would save me: the child lock in the
trunk. If I could just open that, whose very design was
to keep people from suffocating inside of car trunks, I
could use the force of the air inside to counteract the
water pressure and hopefully get out. My hand touched it
and I grabbed hold, pulling. It didn't budge. Frantic
now, I yanked harder and harder, putting the weight of my
shoulder against it.
Things were going black now, my lungs on fire like the
hottest fires of hell, and my body began to feel weak and
tired, as if I had no energy left. Determined, I kept
focused not on the pain that had spread from my lungs to
my chest and legs, but onto the effort of pushing against
the trunk. Finally, just as I was about to lose
conscience completely, I felt a pulling on the other side
of the trunk as the buoyancy that was left in the car,
combined with my shoving and jostling, opened the trunk
door.
By now there was nowhere else for the water to go and
once the trunk was opened, the pressure seemed to
magically disappear. Inspired by my success, I wriggled
out from the trunk and into the open water. I could make
out the faint light of the moon above me, which meant
that I was not too deep in the water. Kicking my legs
like crazy, I moved agonizingly slowly up to the surface
of the water.
Feet seemed to pass like miles as I raced as hard as I
could, my last bit of energy spent on moving upwards
towards the surface. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl
as I kept my eyes focused above me, the pain of the water
rushing against them, the salt from the sea stinging each
and every nerve cell, almost unbearable. The light became
more and more clear now and I couldn't tell if I was near
the surface or dying. Still I kicked.
A second later, just as the last strength in my legs
escaped me, my head broke the surface. I gasped deep,
rich breaths of air, my body feeling as if it was without
any weight. I thrust my arms to the surface and treaded
water with strength I didn't know I had. A wave crashed
on top of me, plunging my head back under for a second,
but I held on and fought, pulling myself back to the
surface. Blinking my eyes rapidly, I tried to get my
bearings to see how far from shore I was.
Off in the distance, I saw a series of rocks jutting from
the water and began to half swim, half float to them, the
strength of the waves carrying me most of the way. I
reached them within a few strokes and my hands brushed
over the slimy surface of their jagged edge as my fingers
wrapped tightly onto them, clinging desperately. The rock
I had flung myself onto was big, it's point sticking out
about three feet over the waves. The neighboring rocks
around it were also quite large and I noticed one with a
smooth, flat surface to it. Letting go of the one I held
to, I made my way slowly to it.
I managed to get my foot onto a jutting crevice beneath
it, my heavy leather shoes providing very little
traction. I climbed upwards onto it and collapsed onto
the base, my fingers hugging the other side tightly.
My jaw ached and my fingers were red and bloody from the
encounter with the rocks, the stinging water and it's
coldness making them throb, but I knew I had made it. I
was alive.
*
I don't know how long I clung to that rock, or how I made
it to shore, nor do I remember waking up in the hospital,
my mouth numb from pain medicine and my body wrapped
tightly in blankets to get warm. Opening my eyes was an
effort in and of itself, but I was glad that when I did
open them, I saw Damon, my assistant, standing there.
"Hey man, you're awake," he said. He was sitting in a
chair near the bed, his clothes looking like he had slept
in them.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"You're in a hospital just outside of Santa Monica. Some
surfers found you this morning, passed out on some rocks
and they took you to shore. Lucky for you they were
considerate enough to say it was an accident and not let
the police know about what happened. Your jaw was
bleeding pretty badly and the doctor says you lost three
of your back teeth, but at least you are alive," he said
cravenly. They must have found my wallet and called the
office. I'm sure that when they couldn't reach anyone,
they called Damon, who was one of the emergency contacts
in case anything happened to the agency.
Feeling around in my mouth with my tongue, which felt
heavy and thick, I noticed the gap he was talking about.
Two teeth were missing in the very back of my mouth on
the left side and one on the right. I must have knocked
them out when I hit the roof right as the car splashed
down.
"How long have I been asleep?" I asked groggily. My mind
was beginning to unfog as I tried to remember what had
happened to get me here.
"Well, you were in shock when they brought you in,
screaming like a banshee the doctor said, so they gave
you some morphine and knocked you out. How do you feel?"
Damon asked.
"I feel like shit. But I'll make it through. What about
the cops? What do they know about the people who sent me
into the water?" I asked.
"Cops? No one even knows what happened yet, it happened
too late last night. We don't even know how you got into
the water in the first place. Unless of course, you'd
like to TELL me what happened," Damon said, his face
showing that he was eager to know more.
I proceeded to recount as best as I could remember the
details of what happened: How after leaving the office
following a wonderful night with Julia Stiles, I followed
a guy who had been sneaking around the office. And how he
had called me on my cell phone (something I still didn't
know how he got) and then how I had been run off the road
and barely managed to escape from the car.
Damon's face had turned ashen almost, taking in every
detail with a look of shock and confusion and anger.
"So who do you think it was? Why would someone try to
kill you like that? I mean, no offense man, but you
aren't anybody THAT famous," Damon said, standing up now
and pacing the room as he lost himself in thought.
"That my friend is the $64,000 question. When I get out
of here, I'm going to set out to figure that out," I
said, trying to sit up in the bed. Damon rushed over to
stop me.
"No, no, hey bro take it easy. The doctor said you can
leave first thing in the morning but he wants you to stay
the night just in case there was any kind of internal
damage. Let me go get him in here and you can explain
what happened," Damon said, walking out the door.
I collapsed back onto the sterile pillow of the bed, the
drabness of the room sedative in it's decorum. The doctor
and Damon returned in a few minutes and after mentioning
the part about being run off the road, the doctor called
for the one duty police officer in the hospital to come
and take my statement. By the time I finished telling the
story for the third time, I was exhausted. Damon told me
that he would let me get some sleep and left me alone in
the room flicking off the light as I slipped off into a
drug induced dream.
*
The next day, after checking myself out from the
hospital, I returned to the office, determined to find
out what happened. I was surprised when I arrived to find
that the entire staff had gotten me one of those
oversized novelty cards and signed it. And on top of
that, Damon presented me with a normal size card, adorned
with signatures from some of the firms best and brightest
clients.
"I acted discreetly about this, getting as many as I
could last night. I didn't want to tell anyone why you
were in the hospital so that it didn't sneak into the
papers again like what happened with Natalie. So I just
told them you were sick," Damon whispered as he handed me
the card.
"Thanks man, I really appreciate that. But right now, I
want to get to the bottom of this thing," I said as I
walked quickly into my office.
"Uh Dean," Damon called to me as I opened the door.
"What?" I said, stepping in and in the process bumping
right into and knocking over Alyson Hannigan.
"Oh! Geez Alyson, I didn't see you standing there! Damon,
why didn't you tell me that she was in my office?" I
said, shooting him a scowl from across the room as I bent
down to help her up.
"I tried to. But you didn't slow down," he said. I shot
him another dirty look but then returned my attention to
Alyson.
"I'm terribly sorry," I said as I helped her to her feet.
"That's ok. I heard you outside but I shouldn't have even
been waiting in your office in the first place. That's
what waiting rooms are for I guess," Alyson said
sheepishly.
"No, don't worry about it," I said as I made my way to my
desk. "I'd ask you to come in and have a seat but we've
already taken care of that part I think. Now, to what do
I owe this privilege?"
"Well, I had made an appointment with you last week.
Damon said this was the only time you were available. So
I get up early and drive all the way here to see you and
then he tells me that you were in the hospital all night!
Are you okay?" she asked, a look of concern on her face.
Alyson wore a jean jacket with a white t-shirt underneath
and a pair of black Capri pants. Her short red hair was
pulled back behind her ears.
"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Just a little late getting in,
that's all," I lied. Part of me was putting up my
business front while another part of my mind was still
stuck fiddling with the puzzle in my head over what
happened yesterday.
"You sure? Your face looks a little, well, swollen," she
said, pointing to my right cheek. I ran a hand over it
and it was a little hard and puffy I could tell.
"Yeah, it's no problem. I just had some trouble with my
jaw. Any ways, what's up?" I asked, changing the subject.
"I came to ask for your advice on my career," she said
with a deep breath.
"Well, I'm your agent. That's what I'm here for. You want
off of Buffy, is that it?" I asked, shuffling some paper
work on my desk but not really paying attention to her.
"No, I love 'Buffy' and being on the show and all that. I
was talking more about my film career. I want to do more
movies, but I'm afraid that I'm going to be type cast as
the 'One time, at band camp...' girl," she said. Her legs
were crossed and she bounced an ankle up and down on her
thigh. I had seen many women do this before - it meant
that they had something on their mind and they were
determined to do it.
"Ok. But Alyson, those movies aren't exactly a bad thing.
They've made almost $500 million combined in box office
receipts alone. Do you know what kind of power that has
when I go to the bargaining table with a studio? It's
tremendous," I said to her.
"I know that. And again, they are a lot of fun to do. But
I want something else. I want something deeper, something
besides a catch phrase and a running gag," she said.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well, something more dramatic. Something more...sexy,"
she said, shaking her head in self agreement with what
she had just said.
"Sexy? Alyson, I hate to be the one to break it to you,
but you've only gotten into this business as far as you
have not because you are sexy. You're cute, your
attractive. You have that girl-next-door look going for
you. Sorry, but Sarah Gellar is the type who exudes
sexiness. Not you, not in the roles you have done so far
in your career," I said. I hated being so blunt, but
sometimes stars egos get out of control and they think
that they can do any kind of role.
Alyson looked shocked - as if someone had just killed her
beloved puppy or something. She stood up from her chair
furiously.
"You! You can't say that...you're my agent! You can't...I
mean, I'm...don't tell me...I am too sexy!" she said, the
anger in her voice rising. Her copper red hair flew
wildly around her head, her face turning a deep shade of
red in her anger and frustration, her high cheek bones
and freckles looking like spotted apples.
"Alyson, calm down. I've had a rough past 24 hours. I
didn't mean to be so harsh on you, it's just...I have a
lot on my mind, that's all,"
Alyson sighed to herself and I could tell she was mulling
over if I was being honest or not. "I wish you could tell
me why things were so rough, but Damon out there said
that it was a personal problem. Regardless, I still can't
believe you don't think I could pull off a sexy role.
Didn't you see my pictures in FHM?"
"Yes, I did. And that was quite the interview you gave.
But again, it all comes down to how the audience
perceives you. Buffy fans wouldn't have a problem with it
I'm sure, but the rest of the general public I'm not so
sure about. And to get those kind of vamp roles, you have
to be sure about it or else the studios will go with
someone else," I said to her, reclining back in my chair.
My jaw and head throbbed mercilessly and though I enjoyed
Alyson's company, I simply wasn't in the mood to get into
a long argument with a star over her roles.
"Hmm...well, I'll tell you what. Why don't you come over
to my place tonight. I'll fix you dinner and then I'll
show you how sexy I can be," Alyson said with a wry smile
as her fingers danced invitingly over the leather of the
chair she sat in.
I pondered the invitation for a moment - my mind and most
of my body said to just go home and recuperate, but as
always my dick had other ideas. "Alright. What time?" I
said with a half smile, half sigh.
"Let's say 7:00. You have my address in your Rolodex,
right?" she said. I nodded. "Great! Ok, I'll see you
then. Oh and Dean, it would be very gentlemanly of you to
bring some wine you know,"
"I'll see what I can do. See you at 7:00," I replied as
Alyson walked out of the office, her hips swishing as she
walked. Was she really not cut out for a sexy role? I
honestly didn't know. I knew that tonight though, I'd
find out.
*
That afternoon, I busied myself with a mountain of
contracts and submitted forms by wanna-be actors and
actresses. It was incredible the amount of girls that
came in and left their resumes. Girls of all colors,
dispositions and types - black, white, Asian, thin,
voluptuous, runway model thin, brown hair, blond hair,
black hair, GREEN hair...after a while, they all started
to look alike. Part of me felt bad that most of these
women would try so hard to get into the business and yet
never make it.
Some would return home heartbroken; others would wind up
staying in town, finding another wanna-be actor (or
actress) and shack up together, further expanding LA's
population. And even a handful ended up in the adult film
world, making pornos for the quick money that it brought
about.
And yet, here I was in the middle of everything, knee
deep in some of the hottest stars and I hadn't done a
damn thing to earn it. The accident the night before had
put things in perspective - maybe I needed a change of
scene. Maybe I needed something new and fresh. But now
was not a good time, I couldn't just walk away. Not with
so much to do and so many people depending on me...
I rubbed my temples and traced my hand over my jaw,
feeling the slight swelling that made my cheek puffy. I
had downed four Advil just a half hour earlier and was
still waiting on it to kick in. Around 2:00 though, Damon
came in and sat down and gave me something else to think
about besides my busted mouth and the meaning of the
Hollywood business.
"Dean, I have an idea. I think I know how we can find out
more info about those guys that tried to kill you last
night," Damon said excitedly.
"Oh yeah? How's that?" I asked.
"Well, a few years ago my roommate in college kept
getting these weird calls from this guy in the middle of
the night, saying some really bizarre things. At first we
thought it was funny but then the guy kept doing it,
every night, at different times. So we got his phone
number through star 69, but every time we tried to call
HIM, there was no answer. When the calls kept on coming,
my friend finally just got pissed off and hired a private
investigator. Within a few hours, the guy had given us
his address, name, where he worked and his license plate
number. We waited for the guy to get home and I think
scared him a little and the calls stopped. And it's all
due to the PI," Damon said.
"That's great man, but I don't think that the description
I could give would be enough to let him track it down. We
should probably just call the police," I said.
"I thought you didn't want them getting involved because
it was too high profile?" Damon asked. He had me there, I
had forgotten about the buzz it might cause if some cop
said something to his kids about it.
"You're right. Hmmm...have you got this investigator's
number?" I said.
"Right here," Damon replied, handing me a small business
card. It read FRANK MCALLISTER - INVESTIGATOR and gave a
phone number and email address, although surprisingly no
office location.
"Thanks. I'll give him a call in a bit," I said. Damon
headed out of the office: "Don't mention it. Just trying
to help,"
I played with the card in my hands for a few minutes,
thinking about what he said. This guy might know his
stuff, but could he really hunt down the two thugs who
ran me off the road based solely on my description of
them and their cars? It was worth a shot I suppose - if
they knew I was still alive, they might come after me a
little bit harder next time and I might as well get the
jump on THEM.
I dialed the number, letting it ring six or seven times.
I was two rings away from hanging up and telling Damon he
gave me the wrong number when a gruff voice, almost
identical to the ones you imagine a private detective
would have, answered. "What?" he said.
"Is this Frank McAllister?" I said.
"Yea, that's me. What do you want?" he said hoarsely. I
could only imagine what this guy looked like.
"I was referred to you by one of your past clients. Well,
not your client exactly, more of a friend of,"
"Get to the point. You've got my number, now what do you
want?" he interrupted. I resented being interrupted, but
I hoped that meant that he wanted to get straight down to
business.
"Well, I had an incident last night with two men who
tried to kill me and I need your help in tracking them
down. The problem is, I have no idea who they were. Can
you help?" I asked.
"Maybe. Give me their description and everything that
happened," McAllister said. I spent the next ten minutes
reciting (for the third time) the whole scenario and what
had happened, straining to remember everything I could
about the incident. The entire time I was greeted by
silence on the other end and when I finished, I thought
he had hung up, or at the very least was ignoring me.
"Uh-huh. Is that all?" he finally said. "Anything else
you can remember?"
"No, that's it. I just got out of the hospital this
morning and," I said, abbreviating my spiel because of
his apparent distaste for long-windedness.
"Alright. Let me get your name and number and I should
have something for you in a few hours," McAllister said
with a heavy sigh. It seemed like it was a strain to him
just to hold a conversation with me.
"Well, I'll be at home probably by the time you call, so
call me there. 555-0417. And my name is Dean,"
"Ok Dean, I'll give you a call when I learn anything. We
can discuss payment at that point," McAllister said,
hanging up without so much as a goodbye. I glanced at the
phone in bewilderment, wondering if I'd ever get anything
out of this.
*
That night I headed out to Alyson's house, borrowing one
of the company cars to get there. Alyson lived alone, in
a fairly normal upper middle class neighborhood not too
far from a lot of the happening places in LA. Her house
was a two-story pueblo design, the exterior a soft mix of
pastel oranges and greens. Anyone who happened to drive
by would hardly assume it was home to such a rising star
as Alyson, but I think that she wanted to keep things
that way - to stay normal and "connected" to the roots of
the rest of society.
She had left the porch light on for me, as well as a note
inside the handle of the door: "Dean, come in. I'm
upstairs taking a shower." the note read. Following her
advice, I stepped inside. I was immediately overwhelmed
by the wafting scent of food being prepared, some sort of
baked chicken with a hint of spices to it from the smell.
I made my way to the kitchen and saw that Alyson had set
out a plate for each of us and that a pan of the chicken
I had smelled was cooling in the middle of the table.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned around and was
amazed to find Alyson standing there.
Wearing just a light purple silk robe that barely covered
up to her thighs, Alyson's red hair hung wetly by her
shoulders. She wore no make up, but didn't need it - the
heat of the shower was enough to bring out the cute
freckles on her face, giving her face a rosy glow. The
overhead light of the kitchen hit her copper red hair at
just the right angle, giving her the appearance of a
fiery lioness, ready to devour her freshly fallen prey.
"Hi Dean! I'm so happy you decide to come and that you
read my note," Alyson said, planting a quick kiss on my
cheek. Her skin and body smelled soft and clean, the soap
of the shower giving off a slight perfume like smell that
was almost dizzying.
"I'd never miss a meal with a client Alyson, so you
shouldn't have worried about that," I said, taking a seat
at the table. She joined me across the way and we began
to eat. The chicken was delicious - a tangy herbal lemon
flavoring added to the chicken breast to give it just the
right amount of moistness. With it came wild rice, mixed
and served with freshly sliced onions and peppers. On top
of that was a helping of steamed green beans and corn.
All of this Alyson made herself and as I remarked to her
upon finishing, it was absolutely exquisite.
"I'm glad you liked it. Cooking was a hobby for me as a
little girl and, well since this acting thing took off, I
don't have as much time to do it. So I enjoy those rare
chances I get to prepare food for anyone," Alyson said.
"Would you like some champagne?"
I nodded and she brought the bottle over, holding it in
her hands, the mouth facing me.
"Would you open this? I always have the hardest time
getting these damn things open," Alyson said, gripping
the base of the bottle. I twisted in the corkscrew and
pulled hard. For a second, I thought the cork wouldn't
budge, but then with a loud POP it came out. The force of
it startled Alyson and she jumped back instinctively. For
just a split second I could see the faintest tip of her
nipple poke out through her shirt as her small breasts
jiggled with the sudden movement. And then like that it
was gone.
I must have been staring because I didn't notice that the
champagne was starting to bubble up and out, a small
trickle hitting the floor.
"Oops! Here, get your glass," Alyson said with a laugh as
she lifted the bottle upright, taking a drink straight
from the dark green glass to catch the slight overflow. I
held out my glass as well as hers and she poured us both
some drinks. We talked for a while, cracking jokes about
mutual Hollywood friends and the like, but no matter how
hard I tried I couldn't get the image of her nipple out
of my head. Not wanting to seem over eager, I acted as if
nothing had happened.
Within half an hour we had moved out to the living room,
where Alyson had kept the lights dim and had some soft
jazz playing in the background. Alyson had finished her
third glass of champagne and was getting quite tipsy, her
words starting to slur a little as she spoke.
"You know, I bet that Sarah Michelle is a slut. I bet she
wants it and gets it all the time from Freddie," Alyson
said, waving her glass around a little erratically. I had
seen this before - stars getting trashed and then bad
mouthing friends. Most of the time it was never an issue
but more often than not I had diffused many a situation
over the phone between two pissed off women.
"Oh, I seriously doubt that. From what I hear, she
doesn't have sex that much at all. Freddie apparently
isn't...umm, well I think that they are both really
busy," I said to her. (If only she knew the truth!)
"Bullshit! I'll believe that when pigs fly!" Alyson said,
finishing off her glass. There was an awkward pause in
the room, the music becoming more clear now in the still
silence.
Trying to get the conversation started again and to try
and figure out why I was there to see how "sexy" she was,
I said "Well Alyson, I better get going. It's been a long
day,"
I stood up, but Alyson jumped to her feet, the sudden
movement making her giggle a little.
"No! You can't go! I didn't show you how sexy I am!"
Alyson said, her face showing signs of sobering up. My
guess at this point now was that whatever she had planned
had made her very nervous and she needed some liquid
courage to get through it.
"Well, I don't know. I mean, it's pretty late and I have
to be in the office in the morning and all," I said,
feigning an excuse. The image of her nipple now raced
through my head and I couldn't get it out. The air was
filled with some kind of electric excitement, like a
charge right before a lighting strike when you just KNOW
that something is going to happen any second now. That's
how things felt now in the room as Alyson swayed a little
on her feet in front of me.
"No, no, no! You STAY! I'll be right back. Trust me,
you'll be happy that you stayed," Alyson said, bounding
off around the corner and up the stairs to her bedroom.
Still keeping up my fake disinterest, I called to her
"Ok, I'll be right here. But hurry up!"
I sat back down on the couch and closed my eyes,
listening to the music. It was so soothing and relaxing
and with the combination of the wine and the gourmet
meal, I felt very calm.
I heard some loud thumping coming from upstairs as Alyson
came down quickly. She stopped behind the corner and I
saw her arm poke out, holding onto a remote. With the
push of a button, the lights in the living room dimmed
almost completely out, and the music on the CD player
changed to a fast thumping rock song.
"Close your eyes Dean!" Alyson called from around the
corner. "If you don't close them, I'm not going to do
it,"
Obliging now, I closed my eyes and laid my head back on
the couch once more. I heard Alyson moving some stuff
around in front of me, the heavy dragging of the coffee
table being moved out of the way. Still keeping my eyes
closed, the music seemed to get louder. I heard a few
more brief moments of movement and then Alyson was
standing in front of me, a few feet away.
"Ok, ready!" she bubbled excitedly. Opening my eyes, my
jaw almost dropped from what I saw. In the middle of the
floor was a pole about 8 or 9 feet tall, sticking
straight up in the air and coming just an inch or two
short of the ceiling. The pole was held up by a smooth,
heavy looking base made out of some kind of metal or
something. In the dim light of the room, the goldness of
the pole glistened and seemed to beckon me to come
closer. I wouldn't have had to go far - next to the pole,
no less than 2 feet away was a folding chair, sitting
directly in front of the pole. And of course, standing
next to the pole with one hand on her hip and her back
arched a little, her other hand on the pole itself, was
Alyson.
She had shed the robe now in favor of something far more
erotic - a lace black bra (a push-up bra I could tell, as
her breasts seemed to almost double now from the glimpse
I had seen), a pair of thigh high black leather boots and
one of the skimpiest pairs of panties I had ever seen.
The material was see-through, but due to the unfortunate
lack of light in the room, I really couldn't see much of
anything beyond the faint shape of her sex.
"Well, don't just stand there! Come over here and have a
seat!" Alyson said, curling her finger out at me as she
motioned for me to come over. She seemed like a
completely different person now - indeed quite sexy, but
also full of some kind of raw sexuality that indeed did
just seem to spill forth from her lithe, milky pale skin.
I walked slowly over to the chair as Alyson held her
place - I was now just a few inches from her and I
realized she hadn't moved when I came over. The slight
brushing against her I had done, the radiating eroticism
between us, served all the more to excite her (and me as
well).
I sat down in the chair and glanced up at Alyson - the
chair was low to the ground, but Alyson's boots had given
her about a 3 inch boost in height. She looked down at
me, her green eyes a fire with excitement.
"Now you can see how sexy I really can be," she said.
With a sudden movement of her hand, she threw my legs
apart so that I was sitting with my legs on both sides of
the chair - a perfect position for her to move and grind
in front of me. Content that I was in place, Alyson
turned and walked around to the back side of the pole. It
was then that I noticed that she was wearing a thong, one
that rode straight up her ass, allowing her toned, firm
ass cheeks to be clearly pronounced in front of me.
Hitting a button on the remote that she still grasped,
Alyson changed tracks on the music to a more urban, bass
heavy beat. It was some kind of jungle/techno mixture
thing, with no lyrics but a whole lot of synthesizers and
drums. Of course, I only paid attention to this for a
second: what happened next was guaranteed to hold my
attention.
With one quick half-leap, half-climb, Alyson mounted onto
the pole, wrapping her legs around the steel so that they
met at the knees on the other side. Clicking her big
heels together, she tightened her legs firmly on the pole
and pulled the rest of her body towards it, grasping
tightly with her thighs. Flinging her head back sexily,
Alyson held her body against the pole as she slowly slid
down a little. But just as quick as she fell, Alyson had
scooted back up, her ass bouncing sexily as she moved and
very slightly made her way in a sort of falling rotation
around the pole.
Pulling herself up by her arms, Alyson held herself in
the air and slowly pulled her legs off of the pole, just
enough to stick them out in front of me as she pushed her
knees back together and arched and moved her legs with
the beat of the music. This maneuver took a lot of work I
could tell, seeing Alyson's muscles in her whole body
becoming taught and tight as she shifted around and then
wrapped her legs back around the pole.
Turning her back to me now, Alyson leaned her head around
her shoulder and gave me a quick wink and a gorgeous
smile and then moved her head back away. She moved an arm
back behind her now, unclasping her bra and very slowly
letting the straps fall away from her shoulders. With a
quick shimmy, she let the garment fall from her body
completely and hit the floor. Alyson, still a little
reluctant and nervous, kept to her plan and turned around
on the pole, placing her feet back on the ground as she
spun. I got my first real look at Alyson's breasts then,
and they were indeed just as lovely as the glimpse I had
already stolen.
Freckled slightly just like the rest of her ivory skinned
body, Alyson's nipples were a surprising dark reddish
blush color, far deeper in shade than the hair on her
head. She had medium sized breasts, a middle b-cup by my
estimates. With nothing to cover the top of her body now
and a pair of panties that barely even covered the rest,
Alyson's true womanly figure took shape - she was petite
and well rounded, with curved hips that accentuated the
rest of her body perfectly, her legs smooth and shapely
as they descended down into the darkness of the boots.
Alyson smiled at me nervously as my eyes roamed up and
down her body, but there must have been something on my
face that was comforting because she set back into the
routine she had planned, the momentary interruption
making her forget what she was doing.
Mounting the pole (so to speak) again, she began twirling
around it at a quickly increasing pace, just trying to
get going fast enough to lift her legs up and manage to
scoot up the pole about two feet in the air. Turning to
face me from the other side of the pole, Alyson watched
me sexily as she slowly slid down it, letting the cool
metal rub in between her breasts. Her nipples poked out
tautly from her body, the tips pressing against the metal
as she slowly slid down it a few inches. The music was
going heavily now at a much faster pace and this seemed
to encourage Alyson along, make her want to speed up the
exquisite, professional quality pole dancing she was
doing.
Grasping the pole with one hand, she slowly and
seductively slid the thumb on her left hand down to the
waist band of her panties. With an agonizingly deliberate
pace, the material seemed to trickle down her legs, first
past her thighs, then to her knees and finally landing on
the floor. Alyson now clutched the pole completely naked,
her pussy hidden cleverly by the pole covering it.
Spinning around again, Alyson's back now faced me, her
legs clutching tightly onto the metal as she flexed in
and out her ass cheeks. I could make out the soft shape
of her mound between her legs, her inner lips opening and
closing as she worked her buttock muscles.
With one final twirl, Alyson spun around the pole and
held herself up prostrate on the pole, her entire nude
and lithe body now facing me. Supporting her body with
just her arms, she unveiled the climax of the show -
opening her legs wide now, I got a perfect view of her
cunt. She had freshly shaved it, probably right before I
arrived and with her legs spread I could see the true
beauty of her snatch. She was indeed a natural red hair,
her sparse pubic hair a dark crimson red that seemed to
blaze like fire in contrast to her body.
"So, do you think I'm sexy now?" Alyson said throatily,
her voice deepening as she held herself on the pole, her
eyes ablaze with sexual excitement. I could only nod.
"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked, opening and closing
her legs to reveal and hide, reveal and hide her
moistening sex. I again nodded and stood up a little to
unbuckle my pants and slide them down my legs to my
ankles. This brought a grin to Alyson's face as she saw
my fully erect, 9 inch cock laying directly on my
stomach, the tension and excitement of what was to come
making it twitch a little.
Sliding down the pole towards me, I sat in the chair
again and watched as Alyson moved from supporting herself
on the pole to placing her thighs on top of my own, her
body slowly coming to rest on my lap. She had her legs
spread still and as she dismounted the pole completely, I
held my dick out for her open lips to ease onto.
The fluidity of it was amazing and swift - Alyson's lips
opened slowly as first the head of my prick, then inch by
inch more and more became engulfed by her moist
womanhood. Wrapping her arms around my neck, my cock
buried itself completely in her now, her pubic bone
coming to rest on my crotch.
Leaning into me tightly, she shuddered a bit, an orgasm,
as she exhaled and turned herself over into my arms.
"I also cum so deliciously when I dance like that. But I
want more - give me all you've got Dean," Alyson
whispered into my ear. Placing my hands around her tight
bottom, kneading the cheeks in my hands, I began to move
her up and down my cock, her body moving in rhythm to my
pace as she propped herself up by herself, letting inch
by inch of my meat slide in and out of her. She gasped as
we slowly made love, feeling and savoring every inch of
me. I too was incredibly enchanted by this erotic
situation, losing myself in the tightness of her twat.
Alyson was an expert lover, knowing exactly what to do
and how to get it done to make both of us reach the
highest levels of pleasure possible.
We continued our pace like that for a few minutes, but it
grew increasingly uncomfortable, so I stood up from the
chair. Alyson wrapped her muscular and fit legs around my
waist, scissoring my cock inside of her as we moved from
the chair to the floor. I laid her down on her back
gently and lifted her legs up, resting her knees on my
shoulders. This allowed me greater access to her pussy,
and I drilled into her faster now, feeling myself
bottoming out inside of her with every deep thrust I
gave.
Alyson was no longer the quiet and sensual girl she had
been when we started - now she seemed to have transformed
into a sex starved animal, urging me on as I sawed in and
out of her pussy.
"Oh yeah! God! Don't stop! Ooooo, fuck me harder Dean!
Fuck my pussy!" she wailed as I continued to fuck her. I
felt her tremble beneath me again as she climaxed around
me, her cunt now moist and sopping wet from our love
making. I leaned my mouth down to hers and kissed her
gently on the lips. But Alyson wanted nothing gentle now
- she forced her tongue into my mouth, the tiny pinkness
of it like a writhing snake as we explored each other's
mouths. I moved my hand up to her breasts and fondled
them in my hand, enjoying the small but incredibly soft
feel of them. Pushing her left breast up, Alyson broke
the kiss and licked her nipple with a flick of her
tongue, her green eyes afire as she gave herself over to
the sex.
Propping her up some, I now laid down on my back and let
Alyson's strong legs do the work as she lowered herself
on and off of me, letting my cock move around inside of
her as she would grind it around. I felt the shaft of my
prick brush against her clit many times and I knew from
the sheer heat given off between her legs that she was on
fire with the desire of the moment.
Alyson lifted herself off of me completely now, but just
for a moment as she spun around backwards and rode me -
cowgirl style. Her legs were bent at the knees across my
waist as she moved like a woman possessed, bucking and
grinding in the air around me, her sweaty red hair flying
around her face. I gripped onto her ass tightly, running
a finger up her crack and brushing it lightly against her
pert asshole. Alyson gasped as the tip of my finger moved
down between her legs and I rubbed against her mound,
gently massaging it. This caused her to only bounce on me
faster and I was forced to remove my hand and place it on
her hips just to keep her from bouncing off.
The added speed now brought me closer and closer to
orgasm, and with just a few more thrusts inside of
Alyson, I felt my cum erupt from my cock, coating her
inner pussy wall with hot and sticky semen. Alyson's body
seemed to feel my shots hit inside of her and this caused
her legs to clamp shut tightly around me, milking my
prick and holding me in as I pumped load after load
inside of her. Slowly Alyson's bouncing stopped and her
body came to a bent rest as she leaned back against me,
her back pressing against my chest.
Fully spent, my prick shrunk a little and slid out from
inside her, the shaft from head to base coated in our
sticky love juices. I held Alyson in my arms for a while
as we both caught our breath and relaxed, both completely
content from not only the sex but the great food and the
warming buzz of the alcohol.
*
As I went to leave an hour or so later, Alyson walked me
to the door, still naked. Opening the front door, I saw
her shiver a little as the crisp February air danced
around her naked body, causing her nipples (which were
already red from my tongue's work) to harden in the
night.
"That was great Dean. I haven't had such a good lay like
that in a long time," Alyson said, propping herself up in
the doorway as I stood to leave. "And keep in mind what I
said about the sexy roles, ok?"
"Alyson, I will tell you one thing that most people never
hear me admit: I was wrong. You are more sexy than half
the women on this planet. That thing you do with your
legs...wow, it's amazing. Don't worry, once I get in
there with the studio heads, you'll be in a shoo-in for
whatever role you want to," I said.
Alyson giggled a little as she hugged me tightly,
planting a soft kiss on my lips. She had returned now to
the same persona that most of America was familiar with,
the innocent little girl that everyone seemed to know
someone who was just like. But what came out of her mouth
was anything but innocent. "Thank you. And if they have a
problem with it, tell them I'll suck there cock to prove
it. I'd love to be there in the boardroom when you offer
up that option," she said with a gentle whisper, a smile
across her face as she laughed lightly.
I too laughed and returned the kiss, heading out the
door. I heard her close it softly behind me, the heavy
metallic click of the bolt. Getting into my car, I headed
back out onto the freeway and towards home - a place I
hadn't been in over 48 hours. I felt more cautious now,
checking the mirrors more frequently to see if anyone had
followed me. But it turned out to be my imagination.
However, I was startled back to reality when my phone
rang, giving me a rushing sense of deja vu. I checked the
number and it was one that I didn't recognize. My heart
beating in my chest loudly now, I picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Simonds? This is Frank McAllister. I've got some
information for you. I have the list of guys down to
three possibilities but I need just a few more details
from you to give you a solid name. You got a minute?"
Frank said. It was almost a relief to hear his voice and
know that he had actually found something that was
useful.
"Ok, ask away," I replied.
"First off, was the guy you saw a bit chunky or was he
more built in the shoulders?" Frank asked. I thought
hard, trying to recall.
"Well, it was dark. But I'm pretty sure he was more toned
in the upper body, so the second choice," I said.
"Good. Now, next question. When you saw him get away, did
he have any sort of limp to him, something like say a leg
he was dragging?" McAllister asked.
"No. Nothing like that. No, this guy was fast, real
fast," I said as I changed lanes on the interstate. Even
at 11 at night, traffic was still rather hairy.
"Ok, last question. When the man spoke, did you notice
any kind of discernable accent? You say you grew up in
New York so you know what Italians and Russians and all
those sound like. Did he sound at all like one of those
guys to you?" Frank said.
This was a real struggle to remember. There had been very
few words said between us, but I was trying to remember
if anything had sounded different. It suddenly came back
to me - when he said "Hope you can swim", or something
like that, the "you" came out as "youse". Bingo!
Brooklyn, Italian, East coast accent.
"Yes! Yes he did! I just remembered, he had an Italian
accent. Not real heavy, but just enough to be
discernable. Does that help?" I asked excitedly.
"It does. Mr. Simonds, the man you are looking for is
named Warren Aiello. He's from your native city of New
York and he's a local goon here in town for some of the
movie studios, the strip joints, basically anyone who
will hire him for muscle. He's done a few years for
assault and battery but nothing too serious. Aiello has
connections, so I think he beats the wrap most of the
time. What I can't figure out though is why he was out
there taking pictures of you," McAllister said gruffly,
as if this sort of information gathering was boring and
routine to him.
"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out as
well," I replied. "Listen, do you have an address or
somewhere I can go to find this fucker?"
"I do, but I wouldn't recommend that. Aiello is a tough
character and I know from the kind of gossip and dirt
that I hear that he doesn't hesitate to take people out.
They say he has a pretty high tolerance for pain and has
no remorse for his victims. You suddenly appearing alive
again to him wouldn't be a good play in my book,"
McAllister said. He sounded a little afraid of this
Aiello character himself, but that didn't bother me. I
wanted to get to the bottom of this and more
specifically, to get revenge.
"I'll take that under consideration. Tell me where he's
at and I'll double whatever I'm paying you now," I said
to him.
"You haven't paid me one God-damned nickel yet. That's
another reason I called. So until you pay me," McAllister
said, sliding into his hardball mode.
"Look, this isn't a bargaining table. You call my office
in the morning, ask for Damon. He will pay you
handsomely, I'm sure of it. Now just tell me this guy's
address and we can consider this transaction complete, at
least on my end,"
McAllister sighed and then read off a card: "3516 Ocean
Valley Drive. It's in Los Angeles, near South Central.
But unless you are packing, I wouldn't recommend going
down there. There are far worse characters out than
Aiello this time of night,"
"Again, I'll take that into consideration," I said as I
committed the address to memory. I knew roughly where
that was and in fact was on the exact right road to
getting there. "Thank you for your help, I will speak to
you in the morning," I said, hanging up the phone before
he could get another word in.
I drove like a bat out of hell, dodging and weaving in
and out of traffic. Even if there had been anyone
following me, they surely wouldn't have been able to keep
up. Within a few minutes I was rolling onto the North end
of Ocean Valley, driving just slow enough to read the
addresses but not too slow to risk getting car jacked.
Reaching into the glove compartment, I pulled out my 9mm.
I had Damon bring it from my house when I was still in
the hospital, not wanting to take any risks if the people
who wanted me dead found out I wasn't.
I drove through a decrepit and blinking yellow light,
swinging from one broken wire over the street. The
neighborhood was like a ghost town, only a few people out
walking around on the streets and I knew McAllister was
right: they weren't the kind you wanted to mess with. A
few of them watched me drive past, staring at my car and
trying to gauge if it was worth their trouble. Up ahead
at an intersection I spotted the building that I was
looking for: 3516.
It was an abandoned and old factory or warehouse like
structure, it's massive roof jutting out a good story or
two above the nearest building. There was a parking lot
for a closed down gas station just across the street. I
pulled into it and switched off my lights. I slowly got
out of the car, not really expecting it to be there when
I got back (and yet I locked it anyways).
Heading towards the building, I paused in front of it. It
was dark and desolate looking except for one light on in
the very top window, the faint yellow pale of it
disappearing into the bleakness of the night. I stood in
front of the doorway inside: it was an old office
complex, probably abandoned in the '50s. But the front
door had been torn off and I could make out a flight of
rickety looking stairs just inside the entryway.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Chapter 26: Reese Witherspoon
Thanks for reading! Send me feedback at:
carnagejackson@hotmail.com
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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