Agents Maytag and Stanton alighted from their car and took a moment to look at the surroundings. They were on Florida's Gulf coast and could see the white sands of the beach from where they stood. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Agent Maytag considered taking off his black suit jacket, then thought the better of walking around with his shoulder holster exposed.

Agent Stanton wore black as well, only her suit jacket was tapered at the waist. Unlike Maytag's gray shirt and dark tie, she wore an open collared deep-blue blouse that matched her eyes. For the moment dark sunglasses covered her eyes, but she would take them off soon enough. They approached the house and rang the bell.

At the door of the beach front house they were greeted by a busty, petite blonde in a tight white t-shirt and khaki shorts. "Hello, I'm Amanda Downing. You must be from the FBI." Amanda shrugged. "Sorry, no one else around here wears suits, and certainly not to my house. You both look very nice, though, really."

"Hello, Ms. Downing, I'm Special Agent Heather Stanton and this is Special Agent Gerald Maytag." When Maytag and Stanton shook hands with her they noticed how tan she was.

"Please, come in," Amanda said. "I want to thank you for coming down here to talk to me on such short notice,"

"This is our job, Ms. Downey," Maytag said.

"Mizz Downey," she mimicked him. "I'm embarrassed enough. Please call me Mandi. And please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you, Mandi," Maytag said as he sat down.

Stanton tried to put Mandi at ease. "You have a beautiful home," she said as she took a seat next to Maytag on the sofa. Stanton was not merely flattering her. The white sofa was in the middle of a Spanish style white stucco room with a parquet floor. Large sliding glass doors opened to the shorelines. Rugs and pottery helped adorn the room.

"Thank you," Mandi said smiling, looking around the room. "It's kinda new to me, too. Business has been good."

"Until now," Maytag said.

The smile left her face. She nodded. "That's right. Like I told you on the phone, I run a Web site. For adults, y'know? Well, some one has taken control of my server. I can't make updates, I'm afraid my billing information may be incorrect or worse, and my members are probably pissed."

"How long has this been going on?" Maytag asked.

"Since the weekend." Mandi answered. "Here, I'll show you." Mandi stood and led them to a smaller room that obviously served as a home office. Besides the usual office equipment and computer, the room contained a printer, scanner, a video camera, and even a sofa.

"This is it," Mandi announced, sweeping her arm in the wide arc of a grand gesture. "This is where minimandi-dot-com happens. It's also where I do graphics and testing and stuff before I upload things to the server. Gimme a second and I'll open my mail."

When the mail application had opened, Mandi invited them to take a look. Maytag and Stanton leaned in close to the monitor and read the subject lines of incoming mail. "The bold lines are new messages," Mandi said. "This is just the stuff I've gotten today."

The subject lines ranged from juvenile ("Mandi's Got a Hacker Nyah nah nah nyah nah") to hostile ("Don't fsck with me!") to downright cryptic ("3l337 h4k0r fuk1n9 u" and "All your pr0n are belong to us!!").

"These messages are all coming from the same place," Maytag said, having noticed the sender for each message was identical, "Z Dawg".

"Yeah," Mandi said, looking back at him. "He set up that account on my server."

"Mandi," Stanton began, "if you would let us talk to our computer crime people and get them involved we could trace this guy to wherever he is and stop him."

"You won't need any computer experts to do that," Mandi said.

"Why not?" Maytag asked.

Mandi sighed. "You don't need any computer experts because he's inside the house."

"What?" Stanton asked.

Maytag scratched his head, and then raised his open palm in the "halt" gesture. "Mandi, you're going to have to tell us exactly what's going on here."

Mandi bit her lip. "Okay. The Web site I run, minimandi-dot-com, is a membership based site. People pay me every month and they get access to photos and weekly cam sessions where they can see live video. It's really no different from when I was dancing, only I work less hours, make more money, and never come home smelling like cigarettes."

She took a deep breath and looked at the agents before rattling off words like a machine-gun. "Anyway, I have this deal with members where they can pay me five hundred bucks to stay the weekend and help me run the live cam show." Mandi stopped to appraise their reaction. "See, I knew you would look at me like that! That's why I didn't tell the Clearwater police!"

"We're just listening, Mandi," Stanton said. "We're not here to try to nail you on anything, right Maytag?"

Maytag nodded. "That's right. But we do need to know what's going on."

"Okay?" Stanton asked.

Mandi shook her head affirmatively. "Anyway, this member Zach scheduled a weekend and he arrived Saturday."

"Zach is Z Dawg?" Maytag asked.

"Yeah," Mandi answered. "His name is Zach Nowitski. He does that Z Dawg stuff, and he calls himself an 'elite hacker' all the time, and uses that silly '3' instead of 'e'. I thought it was harmless. He's just a poseur. Lots of my members like to put on an act. That's fine with me: for ten bucks a month they can use whatever names they want."

"Anyway, Zach shows up on Friday, and he was like real nice. Things went fine until the cam show that night. Then he got all weird."

"Weird how?" Stanton asked.

Mandi lowered her head. "Well, sometimes if I hit it off with a member, we'll actually have sex on camera as part of the show."

"And with Mr. Nowitski...?" Maytag asked.

"He obviously wanted to. It just didn't click, y'know? It was like, it just wasn't gonna happen between us."

"And then what happened?"

"Well, nothing right away. I did a solo show, Zach said it was good. He seemed a little disappointed, but I thought he was a big boy and he would get over it. When I woke up in the morning, I found his first email. He barricaded himself in the server room and wasn't coming out until he got what he wanted."

"What did he want?" Stanton asked.

"Breakfast," Mandi said. Maytag snorted and Mandi glared at him. "Don't laugh! I've been cooking for him the past four days!"

"Why give in to him?" Maytag asked.

"I have over two thousand photos on that server that took me more than a year to put together. Not to mention mpegs and other stuff. Plus I host some other girls' stuff there, too. He could ruin me!"

"You have no backups?" Maytag pressed.

"Of course," Mandi answered, flustered. "I burn backup CDs. But those CDs are in the server room, too."

"Mandi, we're not criticizing you," Stanton said. "We just need to know where things stand."

"That's true," Maytag added. "I apologize if I spoke harshly, Miss Downing, but I need to know what our options are."

"It's okay," Mandi said. "I'm a little tense. So what are our options?"

"We can't risk upsetting him," Maytag said. He paused to run a hand through his hair. "And any legal action against Mr. Nowistki may put you in jeopardy because of your weekend stays."

Mandi assented wordlessly.

"Speaking of which," Maytag said, "I trust that after this episode you'll stop the bed and breakfast routine."

"I've learned my lesson, if that's what you mean."

"Good," Maytag said. He wasn't sure that was a promise to stop, but he was not going to press the issue.

"Getting back to the server," Stanton said.

"Right," Maytag said with a clap of his hands. He rubbed them together, as if making fire with two sticks. "We give him what he wants."

"No way!" Mandi said. "He wants sex!"

"Maytag!" Stanton yelled. "You can't be suggesting she offer herself as ransom for a hostage computer!"

"Are we sure that's what he wants?" Maytag asked. "Let's ask him."

"Where's the server?" Stanton asked.

"It's down the hall in a converted bedroom. But he won't talk through the door. There are fans and stuff in there that make a lot of noise, and he's afraid if he gets too close to the door I might try something."

Stanton smiled. "Mini Mandi has a tough reputation?" she joked.

Mandi laughed as she worked at the desk. "Well, Zach isn't exactly a big guy either. And I've done a fair share of yelling, too. He probably thinks I'm a raving lunatic. Easier to threaten me on the computer. Speaking of which, he's trying to talk to me online right now. You want to type or should I."

"You type. Find out what will make him happy."

Z Dawg> All your pr0n are belong to us

Mandi> I don't know what that means

Z Dawg> Mwuhahahahaha

Mandi> Z, I want this to end. Tell me what you want.

Z Dawg> WTF?

Mandi> No joke. What is it you want?

Z Dawg> i w4n7 pu55y

Mandi> huh?

Z Dawg> pu55y 0n k4m3r4

Mandi> Z, cut it out. Put it in plain english, ok?

Z Dawg> I want sex on camera

"So now what?" Mandi asked the agents. She looked over her shoulder. "I told you, I'm not doing that."

"Get him to promise," Stanton said. "Promise he'll give in if you agree to have on sex on camera."

"No way!"

"Trust me," Stanton said. "Get him to promise to give up if you agree to have sex on camera."

Mandi returned to typing:

Mandi> Will you promise to give up if I agree to have sex on camera?

Z Dawg> YES! YES! FUCK YES! I'm ready when you are, baby!

"That's just fucking great!" Mandi said sarcastically. She jumped out of her chair. "I told you I'm not doing it."

"It seems you just told him you would," Maytag quipped.

"She said she would have sex on camera," Stanton said. "She didn't say anything about having sex with him." Stanton folded her arms under her breasts and smiled, proud of a job well done. Maytag and Mandi stared at each other.

"I guess I should leave the room and let you two get started," Stanton said.

"Whoa, Stanton!" Maytag called. "You can't expect me to do that!"

"Why not?" Mandi said putting her hands on her hips and pushing out her chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," said Maytag. He stood staring at her breasts straining against the tight t-shirt. "I mean, you're, obviously..."

"I'll let you two lovebirds work this out," Stanton said, exiting the room.

"Lovebirds?" Mandi said, redirecting her outrage to Stanton.

"Stanton, no!" Maytag called.

It was too late. She was out of the room. Maytag and Mandi were left to handle the situation themselves.

"What should we do about this?" Mandi asked.

"I don't really know," Maytag answered.

"Maybe I should just start taking off my clothes," Mandi said. "Zach will see it as an invitation and come here from the server room. On the way here, Stanton will see him and stop him."

"Good idea," Maytag said. It certainly seemed that way, and he could just stand behind the camera.

"Okay," Mandi said. "Turn on the camera. That's it. Don't forget to take off the lens cap."

"How's that?" Maytag asked.

"Look through the camera and see," Mandi told him. "Make sure the sofa just fits in the picture. I use the arms of the sofa as markers for where I can go and still be on camera."

Maytag looked through the lens. The lens framed the ends of the sofa perfectly. Mandi was sitting on the sofa shaking out her blond hair. "Looks good," Maytag said.

"See the camera icon there on the desktop?" Mandi asked. "Click that and we're on. Or I'm on. Oh, and there's a CD in the computer. Just hit the media player there next to the camera picture."

Maytag started the camera broadcast and the CD. Just like that Mandi was on the net. A simple drumbeat bounced off the walls. After a few bars, a funky guitar strung out on top of the beat. It was unmistakably Stevie Wonder's "Superstition".

Mandi bopped her head in time with the music. Her heel tapped the beat and her leg moved along with it. When Stevie talked about seven years of bad luck, Mandi dipped her hips. By the time the horn section swirled in earnest, her hips were rolling along smoothly.

She unzipped the shirts first, and pulled the flaps away from her waist. The t-shirt tug-of-war that had been contested by the push of her breasts and the restraint of her waist band had been conceded; the tension in the white cotton vanished and the shirt rose a half inch. Combined with the open shorts, this new found freedom of motion exposed Mandi's pretty tan navel to viewing. The Internet provided a few pixels for it, but Maytag could fix his whole attention on that cute little square inch of skin that seemed to wink at him as she swayed.

Mandi took hold of the flaps. She rolled them around and then pushed them down onto her thighs. It showed her pink panties, looking especially bright against her sun-kissed skin, but the curve or her ass kept the back of the khaki shorts in place.

After turning in place half-way round, Mandi straightened her back. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her shorts and pushed them down, bending at the waist as she did so to enhance the curvature of her rump. The pink panties were cut narrow in the back, enough to show the corners of her cheeks but not so much that the rode up the crack of her ass.

Stevie Wonder gave way to some other funk, and Maytag stood watching. Mandi was putting on quite a show, and the trouser-edition Maytag was beginning to take interest. The intrepid agent took advantage of Mandi's position to adjust himself and give his dick a little breathing room. Breath it did, especially after Mandi turned back around and ran her tongue over her lips. She ripped off her t-shirt in a sudden movement, and her breasts seemed to jump away from her chest. Maytag's cock hopped in his pants.

"Good?" Mandi asked, running a hand down her chest to her belly button.

"Very much so," Maytag answered her.

"Good," she purred as she dove a hand into her panties.

"Do you think it's working?" Maytag asked.

Mandi looked down at the bulge in his trousers. "Oh, I do believe it is."

"Then why isn't Zach here?" Maytag asked.

"Maybe we need to do something to make him jealous," Mandi said. She took a step forward and grabbed Maytag by his necktie. With a jerk of her arm she pulled him from behind the camera. Her other hand, free of her pink undies, pushed down on his shoulders. He was on his knees and eye-level with her navel. It was a much better view than what the Internet provided, especially now that the back of Maytag's head was in the way.

"Lean back," Mandi instructed him. "That way I can kneel over you and get my tits on camera."

"We're on camera!" Maytag said in shock. He had gotten caught up in the moment.

"I'm on camera," Mandi said. "And your back is on camera."

"Oh," Maytag said.

"Now why don't you get this off me," Mandi ran a finger a long the elastic band of her under wear. "And then just plain old get me off."

*

Outside, Stanton was wondering how things were going when she heard a guttural yell. Following that was the discernible, but no more meaningful shout, "Somebody set up us the bomb!"

Stanton was standing when the source of the voice entered the room, all five foot four and 120 pounds of him. He was shorter than Stanton and not much bigger than Mini Mandi. But he tried his best to make it up in attitude. After catching sight of Stanton, he stood in front of he and asked, "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck is going on here?"

Poseur he might be, but he went all out to present the image. Piercings adorned both eyebrows, his nose, and multiple spots on his ears. A spider web tattoo on his neck emerged from his black t-shirt and ended along his left jaw line. White letters spelled out "RTFM" on his shirt.

"I'm Heather Stanton. And I'm assuming what's going on is Mandi having sex on camera, just like you asked."

"With me! She's supposed to have sex with me."

"She never said that," Stanton said. "She promised sex on camera." She was half expecting an argument. The other half of her expectation was having to force him to the ground and hand cuff him.

Instead he just seemed lost in thought. "Dammit! This is the second time she weaseled her way out of this."

"What do you mean?" Stanton asked.

"Man, she was all lovey dovey on the phone, then when I showed up she kinda backed off. Guess she didn't like my look."

"You have to admit it's a little extreme," Stanton said.

"Bullshit, man, typical establishment bullshit," Zach said. "Besides, some of this is all for her."

"You have a tattoo of Mandi somewhere?" Stanton blurted mockingly. After she said it, she was afraid that she might get a visual confirmation.

"No!" Zach answered. "I'm talking about the stud." Zach opened his mouth and showed off the metal dumbbell pierced through his tongue.

Those fears of visual confirmation weren't so far off after all. Stanton watched Zach wiggle the tongue a bit. "So you think that actually helps, huh?" she asked, leaving the subject of what it could help unspoken.

"Damn straight! And if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go in there and prove it."

"You're not going in there," Stanton declared.

"Look I'm not going for this 'sex on camera' bullshit," Zach said. "Either I get some pussy, or I'm gonna fuck that server up for real."

"What have you done to the server, anyway?"

"Nothing yet," Zach said. "I just set up some accounts. I haven't touched anything so far. For real. Seems I don't ever touch anything that belongs to that girl. But that's over now. No pussy, no deal."

"OK, then. I think we might be able to work something out."

Zach's head almost spun off.

*

Maytag's face was sloppy wet. He had spent the better part of Jamiroquai's "Deeper Underground" getting deep inside Mandi's sinkhole. He had been enjoying holding onto her ass while doing so, and now he could look at it, as well. Mandi insisted on turning around so that his face was pressed against her bubble bottom. "My members like to see my ass," she had said. Her ass was firm and round, and the same rich color as her arms and legs, save for a thin white tan line left by a string bikini.

Mandi reached back and took his hair in her fist and pushed her knuckles into his head as he licked her quim. Maytag sensed that Mandi was nearing orgasm. When she started to moan, "Oh, yes, Gerry," he was more sure. As her ass bucked into his face he was quite certain. Maytag held onto her cheeks to defend himself, but he also liked squeezing that firm round rump as she jilled off.

"Oh, Jesus," Mandi said as Maytag slowed down and she let go his hair.

Maytag gave her ass a playful slap. "That was fun," he said.

"My turn now," Mandi said.

*

It was Stanton's turn outside on the sofa. Her pants were on the floor. Zach kneeled near them, hands wrapped around her thighs, studded tongue wiggling in the folds of her cunt.

Whatever the aesthetic value of body art, Heather Stanton was rapidly becoming impressed with the tactile advantage of a well placed piercing. At that moment the piercing was a warm hard metal bead that was circling the stiff pink bead of her clit, and it felt damn good.

Zach was happy that Heather was into it, but he concentrated on what he was doing. The stud went through the center of his tongue an inch or so from the tip. If he was careful, then, he could move the stud against a woman's clitoris while flicking his tongue inside her pussy. He was being as careful as he knew how.

"Oh, Zach, that's good," Stanton moaned.

Zach looked up at her. He could see a bit of her smooth tummy beneath her jacket. Dark hair rested on her shoulders, and she looked down at him with eyes like blue gems. "Call me Z Dawg," he said with a quick break from the cunny licking.

"Oh, Z Dawg, just like that," Stanton said. She would have called him Abraham Lincoln if it would keep him from talking.

He of the Z kept licking her. The metal stud flicked against the stem of her ripe apple core. Sticky saliva mixed with her own juices and moved down the inside of her thighs, tickling her leg. Zach told hold of her ass and pulled her twat closer to his face.

Zach started to fuck her with his tongue. He pushed as far in and out as he could go, slow at first, then building up speed. Zach began to move his whole head and shoulders, keeping his tongue stiff, and plunging with the upper body motion. The metal ball seemed to roll against her delicate flesh. Stanton went over the edge.

"Z Dawg!" Stanton called, although it sounded more like "sea dog" in the throes of her orgasm. She trembled slightly and squeezed her thighs around Zach's head to quell the tremors.

Zach stood and shimmied out of his baggy pants. Stanton didn't see any body art on his legs, but she didn't have much time. He quickly slid between her legs and inside her. The dance was an anticlimax. Zach didn't last very long and had been far better with his tongue. As they dressed and cleaned up, Stanton did her best not to suggest he get some sort of piercing for his dick.

*

Industrial strength dance music filled Mandis office. Maytag was standing on the sofa with his shoes off. His pants were still on, but his stiff dick poked through the fly. Mandi had worked his cock and balls through the opening in his trousers. She sat on the edge of the cushions, holding his rod so that it pointed down to her. She tilted her head back and sucked on his cock, like a pet in a cage sucking sugar water through a tube. It made a great picture: throat and chest exposed, legs spread, sucking cock, all framed by the dark trousers straddling her head.

It was a tough position to hold, though, and Mandi knew it was time to wrap up the show. She flipped herself over, and pushed her ass in the air. Knowing what to do with an invitation like that, Maytag dropped off the sofa and prepared to enter her from behind.

"No, wait," said Mandi.

"What now?"

"Get back up on the sofa so you don't block the view."

So Maytag got back up, and crouched down over her pud. He bent his cock to point down and dove into her snatch. She was hot and wet against his wick and he plunged inside her easily. It was tough to keep his balance, but he managed by pushing in and out slowly, in time with the heavy bass of the music.

Maytag looked down at Mandi. Shoulders were almost flush with the sofa, and her back arched in an extreme curve to push her ass up to him and expose her twat to the camera. Her tan ass looked large in round in contrast to the white-ringed waist that was now below it.

Mandi's face pressed sideways against the cushions. Maytag saw her profile, through a tangled mess of blond hair. Her mouth made an open O and her eyes were shut tight. She reached back to play with herself as he plunged.

Feeling his own orgasm begin to build, Maytag braced his weight with an open palm against her ass. He fucked harder and lost his steady rhythm.

"Come on my ass," Mandi directed. Complying, Maytag pulled out and took his cock in hand. With his other hand still on her cheek, Maytag took aim at her pink folds. A jet of thick white cum blazed through his cock and hit her with a splash, followed by two lighter blasts that streamed along her ass.

Maytag almost fell over. He stood straight and then leaned on the wall in front of him. Mandi rubbed the jizz into her ass. Then she rolled over and cleaned the glaze off his now floppy tool with her mouth.

"God damn!" Maytag exclaimed. He struggled to steady his breathing.

"Nice work, stud," Mandi said, wiping her mouth and shin with her forearm. "You can watch that later if you like, assuming I still have a server."

"Yeah," Maytag said. "Maybe we should find out what happened out there."

*

Mandi emerged from the office with Maytag behind her. He had wiped the sweat away from his brow, but he was sure his face was still flush. He tried to play it cool anyway.

"What happened"? he asked Stanton, who sat filing her nails on the sofa. "Where's Zach?"

Stanton shrugged her shoulders. "He grabbed something to eat and then he left."

"And my server?" Mandi asked.

"Zach said it was fine," Stanton answered. "But you should take a look."

Mandi darted off for her server room.

"He left just like that?" Maytag asked.

"I guess he got he wanted," Stanton said.

Quickly, Mandi returned. "I'll have to check some things, but I checked disc space real fast and it looks like everything is still there. The room looked in order, too."

"Great," Stanton said, standing up. She shook hands with Mandi. "Let us know if you need anything else."

"Yeah," Maytag said, straightening his suit after taking her hand. "You have our number."

Outside, the bright sun made them squint. They approached the car and Maytag flipped his partner the keys. "Something wrong?" Stanton asked.

"I just want to stretch my legs a bit," Maytag said as he stepped in the car. "Did Zach really just give up like that?"

"Sure did," Stanton said. "Just a mild tongue lashing. He was actually a real softie."

END