Adults Only

RBVS - Book One

Witchcraft (Miss Fuchida)

Prologue: San Francisco, Ca. 1997

His name was Istanbul, but everyone called him Stan, for the obvious reason. Stan wasn't Turkish or anything; he was a perfectly ordinary white guy. Sort of. His IQ was somewhere around 180, but he tempered his genius with chemicals. Lots of them; mostly stuff he invented himself in the labs at Stanford, or better yet, his labs in the condo he was renting. He was a biochemist and a good one, one of the best in the world, but Professor Stan of Stanford had been born a generation too late, a fact he often lamented when we were alone in the dark.

"I was born too fucking late." Stan was bathed in sweat; he'd turned off his air conditioner a week before the hottest summer on record hit northern California. He was trying to turn his condo into a greenhouse.

His bedroom was the living room, because all the other rooms were being used for something else. We slept and ate and fucked in that one place and that was more than a little convenient. I could hear his monkeys, their screeching complaints coming muffled from the master bedroom upstairs, and they always got excited when they smelled our sex. In another room Stan was cooking up gallons of LSD for his sinister plan to give a quarter million Catholics in the Bay Area a real miracle for Easter. He was going to turn several truckloads of Eucharist wafers into acid and I'd seen the details of his plan, it would probably work. Stan had a lot of plans, but there was only one that interested me.

"Mmmm..." I rolled off of him, feeling his shrinking penis slip out of me. That was my usual response and more than he required.

"I bet there wasn't a single fucking condom at Woodstock." He was peeling the rubber off his cock. "People got a bug it didn't kill them."

"It's not the bugs I'm worried about, Stan." He hated wearing a condom, especially since we'd been together almost two months, as if that was a long time. I guess for him it probably was, but I couldn't see any girl sticking around for much more than that.

"Yeah, yeah..." He muttered and I could see he was unhappy.

Stan's cloudy blue eyes were closed and his thin lips were pressed together, as if they were a just a rumor. He wasn't bad looking, but not really my type. The goatee he sported, poorly trimmed at best, made him look like a middle-aged Lenin with hair and he had an affectation for wire rim glasses, even though his vision was fine. He just liked looking through the different colors, red, blue, yellow; he had a dozen pairs scattered around the room.

I stood up, stretching in the weird bluish-green lights that he used to grow his plants, just to remind Stan of why he kept me around. He was never cheerful, even after the best fucking of his life, but I needed him relaxed at least. I needed him to stay hungry and interested.

My own skin, vehemently pale, gleamed with perspiration as well. I ran my hands through my short black hair first, feeling it damp and stringy between my fingers, then down my small firm breasts and across the flat of my stomach. Stan liked girls, not women, so I'd shaved my sex and kept it that way, not that I had a lot of hair anyway. I was only sixteen, but I needed to be younger for Stan, at least privately. He thought I was eighteen, everyone did. The effect, to my mind, was of a child-whore from Roppongi and I was vaguely uncomfortable with it, but the effect on Stan was everything I wanted. I stared at him with my almond shaped eyes, oriental and inviting and colored with a luxurious shade of blue that disarmed most men like a sharp kick in the balls. Stan was no exception.

"Fuck, you're sexy." He stared at me and I pushed my pelvis out slightly, giving Stan a good look at the small but swollen lips of my labia, puffy from the excitement of a few minutes before. "Like you're fucking twelve."

I smiled for him, pretending it was the compliment he intended and ignoring the fact that I was feeding a pedophile's fantasy. I'd been doing that ever since I'd been born, or at least reborn. I slipped a finger inside my vagina slowly, distracting him just enough so I could ask...

"What time is your friend coming?" I sounded sexy, small and innocent, just a little girl asking for more candy.

"About eleven." Stan licked his lips and moved a hand down to his cock, massaging it gently, wishing it hard again. That wouldn't take long; Stan popped homemade Viagra like it was Dynamints. It wasn't that he was old, he wasn't, just 31 and a few months. The problem was all the other shit he did.

"We have time." I breathed. "If you want..."

Stan glanced at the clock on the wall, one of those novelty kinds that ran counter-clockwise, numbered upside down and backwards. It gave me a headache.

"No." He shook his head. "You gotta get out of here." Stan said the words, but he didn't mean them, I could tell.

I turned around for him, slipping a finger between the small rounded globes of my ass. It was all sex for Stan, something I hadn't really appreciated at first. I'd tried to be his friend, in the beginning, his ally and accomplice, a confidant, but he wasn't interested in any of that. All he wanted was sex and he couldn't say no.

I'd believed that familiarity breeds contempt. When after the first few weeks with him it became obvious that all we'd ever do was fuck, I almost pulled the plug. He'd get tired of me, I was sure. It would be natural, or so I understood that condition of human nature. Marriage is a good analogy, perhaps. I'd never been married, of course, but I'd studied the institution. The how's and why's of social failure, it was interesting to me. If I'd been a real college student I could have done my masters on it. As it was, I was just another fuckable freshman, so far as Stan was concerned, a little Asian orchid, seduced by the great and misunderstood intellect of Professor Istanbul Turner Smith.

But he wasn't tired of me yet, thank goodness.

"Do I have to go?" I pushed a finger slick with fuck juice into my anus, twisting it slightly as I peered at him from between my legs. It was childish and I might have felt humiliated doing this in other circumstances, but pride is a false God and I didn't suffer it gladly. That, more than anything, is the secret of my success...If such a thing exists.

"He's, uh..." Stan's cock was hard again, a thick six inches that he stroked slowly. "...shy. My friend."

"I'm shy too." I said in a small voice. "But if you want, I mean, if he wants....I could do both of you, Stan."

"Oh." He sounded like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He looked at the clock again, his eyes darting back and forth between us. The here and now me competing with some unseen and unknown future.

"Please, Stan?" I pulled my finger free, standing up, but keeping my back to him, just looking over my shoulder and bringing the finger to my mouth, licking around it carefully, sucking it clean just for him.

"Yesssss...." His voice was a whisper. "Come here now."

I moved slowly, not wanting to spoil anything, sliding back onto the bed. It reeked of sweat and sex and I moved my mouth to Stan's chest, kissing his body softly and tasting his salty skin. I replaced his hand with mine, squeezing his cock, rubbing my thumb across the smooth crown and feeling the wetness leaking there. I jerked him off slowly, knowing even that simple thing was good for Stan. He loved every part of sex, I'll give him that much, from the smallest touch to the most obscene pleasures imaginable; Stan loved it all.

"What do you want?" I whispered, using his desire to keep him busy. It wasn't enough to let him react to me; he needed to be in charge, active and thinking only about me, about what he wanted. I was so close now, my heart was thumping wildly in my breast, and I couldn't spoil it. I wouldn't spoil it by giving him a chance to reconsider. This was my first time, my first test, and I so desperately wanted to pass.

"I...I want to fuck you." He breathed, his hands on my back, moving across my sticky skin with little jerks that weren't entirely unpleasant. Back and forth, up and down, while I teased his nipples and rubbed his cock. "Without a condom. I want to feel you inside."

"Mmmm..." I frowned inwardly, they didn't pay me enough for this, and that thought almost gave me the giggles. "It's a bad time of the month, Stan." I kissed his lips, biting the lower one gently for a moment. "I might get pregnant."

"Please...Just let me put it in..." Stan was begging softly while his hands moved over my body, exploring me, squeezing and not feeling bad at all. "I'll pull out. I promise baby, come on. Please?"

He rolled us over, onto my back with his body kneeling between my thighs, holding my small form tightly with his hands gripping my narrow waist, and I didn't resist. I just opened my eyes wide, looking up into his face, into Stan's dark desire.

"You promise, Stan?"

"Oh yeah, baby. I swear!" He was grinning now, taking my calves in his hands, lifting them over his shoulders as he hunched over me. Stan glanced at the clock. "We gotta hurry though....fuck!"

I reached up, locking my fingers around the back of Stan's neck as I felt his penis, hard and blunt and hot, pushing and probing between my legs. He reached down and I felt him finally, rubbing along my slit and then pressing inward, splitting my swollen labia easily and for the first time ever without a condom between us.

"Skin to skin...awww…yeah..." Stan groaned as he pushed slowly, obviously enjoying the sensation of filling my pussy bareback. I didn't mind it, but truthfully, it didn't really feel a whole lot different for me. A little warmer maybe, wetter possibly with his precum leaking inside me, but that was probably just my imagination.

I gave him a little gasp, knowing he expected it even though we'd fucked enough already that night that he could enter me easily. It was a little thing, but Stan's ego fed from the details. It was why he was so good at what he did. Why he was so dangerous.

Stan soon had me bent nearly double, my knees practically touching my ears, with my legs trapped by his arms. He fucked me urgently, pumping his thick hard cock in and out of me like a madman. It was deep too, much more so than usual and at first it was more than a little uncomfortable. My gasps and groans were credible as his cockhead hit the bottom of my sex repeatedly, making me wince. But Stan took my little grunts and shivers, and the slapping of my fingers on his shoulders to mean I was enjoying it. Or more likely he didn't even notice.

Two minutes after we'd started there was a soft knocking at the door.

"Awww…shit…" Stan breathed, and then louder, "Wait a sec…Just…Uhhh…Hold on…"

Stan was close, his cock sliding in and out of me quickly, making soft wet sounds and I was helpless beneath him. But this, finally, was what I'd been waiting for and I wanted to keep Stan on the edge. As much as I'd like to take credit, the timing was pure luck. Of course, my Sensei would tell me that luck was an illusion in any event, that I'd created my own good fortune and so I should feel pleased with myself. It isn't incorrect to take some small pride in our skills, afterall.

The knocking came again and I was pushing at Stan gently. He was distressed, plainly desperate to have his orgasm in my unprotected womb, but Stan couldn't keep his friend waiting either. And I wanted him like that, frustrated and overexcited. He'd have to keep me around now, he was in pain with his mind distracted and slow to react.

"Fuck…fuck fuck fuck…Fuck!" Stan pushed himself away, letting my legs fall from his body. He grabbed a sheet, the thin white cotton soaked through in places with sweat and juices, and wrapped it around himself carelessly.

"Don't move." He stared at me and licked his lips. There was no way he was going to send me away now and I just lay there, catching my breath and smiling between my splayed thighs at him.

Stan moved to the door, looking first at a video monitor and then peering through the peephole briefly, since Stan distrusted anything but his own eyes. I sat quietly watching as Stan opened it just a fraction. He was speaking with his visitor and I held my breath, letting it out slowly only when the door was opened further and the man stepped into the room. Stan closed the door quickly, slapping the dead bolts back into place and resetting his alarms.

"Who the fuck is that?" The guy asked Stan, staring at me as I sat on the bed naked. "What the fuck, Stan?" He was tall for a Chinaman, taller than I expected, and his accent was local.

"Just my girlfriend." Stan glanced at me and rubbed his crotch through the sheet he was wearing. "She's cool."

"I'm outta here." The guy was turning around.

"Hey, no…I gotta have it tonight…" Stan held up his hands.

"Fuck you, Stan. This isn't how we do business…" The man was shaking his head, turning away from me and he'd made up his mind.

"Want to see a magic trick?" I interrupted the two men with a smile.

"What?" The Chinese guy turned his head, looking at me, and Stan narrowed his eyes.

"Magic." I wiggled my eyebrows playfully, sitting up on the bed now, and then lifted my hand so quickly it must have seemed exactly as I'd promised. I pulled the trigger twice and back of the Chinaman's head exploded all over Stan with a wet popping sound, very much like a soggy paper bag filled with strawberry jelly. That, and the dull thud of the dead man's body hitting the floor a second later, had been much louder than the silenced Browning I used.

I got off the bed slowly, pointing the gun at Stan, but he wasn't doing anything. He just wiped his face slowly and stared at his hands, covered with blood and brains. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. I moved closer, not bothering to check the Chinaman. It had been an easy shot, a stationary target from less than five meters; it wasn't like I was gonna miss or anything. I pointed the nine millimeter at Stan's left eye, so all he could do was stare into that long black tunnel.

"Who are you?" He asked me softly.

"I'm the wicked witch of the west." I smiled and pulled the trigger, happily rid of Istanbul Smith forever.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I found what I needed beneath the Chinaman's shirt, he'd been wearing it close to his heart and I was suddenly very happy I'd taken the head shot. Two thumb sized vials of HVX-3, a Chinese engineered biological warfare agent that would have killed half of the city, and me with it if they'd broken. It had been developed from Hantaan virus, a hemorrhagic fever which was discovered during the Korean war and Stan had promised a big batch to some assholes in the middle east. I didn't know all the details, nor did I care very much. I was just after the vials and they were wrapped in gauze and taped to the guy's chest. That was the problem with people like that, amateur terrorists with more balls than sense, they didn't take precautions.

I took a shower and dressed quickly, putting on my red hipsters, a white t-shirt that said "World's Greatest Dad" across my braless breasts, and a pair of low black heels. I fixed my face, just a little red lipstick and some eye shadow. I didn't need makeup, but I had time and I wanted to appear completely normal and makeup is most noticeable by its absence, and more so in San Francisco than anyplace else, I think.

I used a metal Band-Aide box for the vials, packing it full of Vaseline from Stan's medicine cabinet and then pushing the small glass containers inside. It was a good fit and I wiped the excess jelly away, snapped the lid shut and taped it up good and tight. It wasn't perfect, but they were protected a little better than they had been anyway. All I had to do was get them someplace cool and safe.

The Chinese guy would have friends outside, they always did, but they weren't looking for a skinny Japanese girl either. I walked out the same way I always did, down the cobblestone path and past the big swimming pool. There was a party going on and some guys waved at me, so I laughed and kept walking. The two Chinese guys leaning against the Mercedes at the curb gave me a long look, but only because I looked too good to ignore and they were bored. They were Triad, like Chinese Mafia, sorta, and I gave them a little glance, then lowered my eyes the way a girl walking alone at night should. It wasn't the best neighborhood in Frisco, not by a long shot, and I kept my purse open in case I needed to break someone's heart.

"Oh seven seven four." The voice on the other end of the line said, reciting the last four digits of the number I'd dialed.

"Hi," I said brightly. "I want to order a pizza…a large double stuffed pepperoni with…"

"Sorry, you have the wrong number." The man hung up and so did I, looking around the gas station and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Pay phones aren't really as safe as people might think, but they were still better than a mobile. The Pizza Hut's phone number ended with 0777 so if someone was listening they might ring it up as a misdial anyway, but I'd driven 30 minutes out of the way just to be sure. I stepped to another phone, as there were three of them side by side, and dropped a couple quarters in the slot.

"Nani?" A girl's voice answered in Japanese.

"Whoops…Wrong number. Sorry." I said in English, hanging up immediately. My teacher would know I was coming home soon; my final exam finished…Almost.

An hour later I was in a bar called Pinky's, under the Oakland Bay bridge on the Frisco side. It was small and noisy, gay as hell, and good for a quick drop. I didn't trust the Chinese a whole lot; they had a fetish for tying up loose strings. But their memory was weak, which always struck me as odd for a people with such a long history. Probably had more to do with Mao than anything else, people had to forget a lot of stuff fast in the old days and now those were the people in charge. They'd want to forget this business as fast as they could anyway and they'd been sweating bullets for the last three months, fearing that someone would find out there were a dozen grams of bio-weapon loose in the United States. Homeland Security was a joke, everyone knew that, but even clowns could get lucky once in awhile.

"Get a Pepsi?" The bartender was a short black girl, or she might have been a guy. Hard telling with her face. Nice body though, either way, and she was seriously ripped and oiled up for action. I liked the view a lot.

"Coke?" She asked, giving me little smile and she knew I was too young to be in there, but one coke wouldn't hurt.

"Sure, Coke's fine." I rolled my eyes and smiled back at her.

"Hey." A girl, a real one for sure, pushed herself next to me. She was young and blonde with a gold ring through her bottom lip. "Can I buy that for you?"

"Sure." I smiled back at her.

"I'm Jolie." She nodded and glanced at the bartender. "Jack and coke, no ice, kay?"

"Wendy." I nodded, giving her a little look up and down.

The girl arched her back a little, giving me a pose in her 3" heels, black mini, and a white blouse that was nearly transparent. Underneath she wore a lacey red bra and it looked expensive. Jolie liked to show off and she looked good doing it, I decided. She was kind of a surfer girl and I bet she was tanned all over too. Jolie was just my type, but sometimes I thought they all were. I'd liked California a lot.

"No ice, sugar." The black girl nodded.

"Jolie, huh, like what's her name." I turned to face her, leaning my hip against the bar. "Thanks for the drink."

"I've seen you here before." The blonde leaned close against the noise. "I never forget a face."

The juke box was turned up to 11 and playing something local, that weird blend of Ska and hip-hop called Quake, cause it was the New Bay Sound. I didn't mind it, but it made conversation tough. I found myself moving closer to the girl, even though we weren't that far apart anyway. Finishing my first real job was getting my blood up though, and she did look good. Smelled good too, like cocoa-butter.

"I stop by once in awhile." I sipped my drink. "How about you, regular or just bored?"

"Regular." She laughed, showing off her white even teeth. "I go to Berkeley, liberal arts, how about you?"

"Used to." I shrugged. "I dropped out today." I didn't know why I was talking so much, but I do that sometimes. I feel like I'm invincible. Like a goddess walking among mortals and it makes me stupid.

"No shit." She narrowed her eyes and then grinned. "You're kidding me."

"I dunno." I smiled back. "Don't matter anyway; I have to take off tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? So what are you doing tonight then?" She took a drink of her own, downing half the glass. "Want to take me home?"

"Yeah, I do." I looked past her, seeing a face I recognized. "Just give me five minutes. I gotta say hi to somebody."

I left her at the bar and squeezed past several people, heading towards the back of the place and the little hallway where the restrooms were. I liked this bar not just for the crowd and the laid back attitude, but because the bathrooms were small and could be bolted from the inside. There was a line, a half dozen girls and boys, waiting for their respective turns, but I ignored them as the men's room door started opening just ahead of me. I shouldered my way past the guy about to enter, and slipped under the arm of the guy leaving as he was pushing the door fully open.

"Hey, bitch!" The first guy in line said, trying to follow me, but my Chinese friend pulled him back, closing the door behind him and locking it.

BAM - BAM - BAM

"Hey! No fucking in there!" The man was banging on the door in frustration.

"Do you have it?" Lin Bao, minor diplomat and the deputy head of station for the Chinese Security Service looked at me expectantly.

"Your guy's dead." I pulled the dead man's wallet out of my jacket. "There's DNA inside, if you want it." I'd scooped some of the man's brains into a little plastic bag and tucked it in with his money. It was more than Bao needed, but I liked tweaking him a bit.

"And the other?" Bao barely glanced at the wallet, pushing it into his jacket.

"It's safe." I shrugged and dug a key out of my pocket. "I'm out of the country tomorrow, once I confirm the rest of my fee I'll tell you what that key opens."

"You're worse than your mother." Bao looked at the key, but I'd had it ready for three months and the numbers had long since been filed away.

"Are we done?" I asked him, tensing slightly as he looked up.

He licked his lips and nodded. "You'll get your money within 24 hours."

"Good." I stood there until he unlocked the door and walked out, and then I followed him slowly, letting my body relax a little.

"Hope it was good, bitch." The guy who'd been banging on the door, pushed past me and I just kept my eyes on the Chinaman until he was gone outside.

"Hey, you ready to go?" Blondie was right where I'd left her, holding a new drink.

"Yeah." I nodded and gave her a smile. "Come on."

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"You're Japanese right?" Jolie was sitting on my bed while I undressed. "Are those contacts?"

"What? My eyes?" I giggled. "No, they're all mine."

"They're beautiful." She was drinking a peach wine cooler, cause that was all I had; that and water.

"So are yours." I pulled my t-shirt over my head, shaking my short black hair free, shagging it a bit with my fingers. She had eyes like the sea, bluish-green and shining wetly.

"Thanks. So where you going?" Jolie was undressing as she lay there, lifting her ass off the bed so she could push her skirt down. She looked seriously cute doing it too.

"Huh? Oh, back home." I nodded, undoing my leather pants and and wriggling out of them.

"Where's that?"

"Tokyo." I smiled. "Have you ever been there?"

"Me?" Jolie laughed. "No. I've never been out of California."

She'd left her bra on and her panties, which were red and matching. She was really cute, not beautiful or anything, just cute and sweet and I stood there looking at her bronzed skin for a second before taking off my panties. Jolie was rubbing her lace covered sex slowly and she bit her bottom lip as her eyes went down my body, taking in my impossibly young sex. I looked twelve, just like Stan wanted me too, and I suddenly felt self-conscious about it.

"How old are you?" Jolie asked and she'd stopped moving.

"Eighteen." I lied. "You don't…Like me?"

"No, that's not…" She giggled. "I've just never been with a Japanese girl, I guess."

"My boyfriend, my old one…" I cleared my throat. "…He liked it when I looked…Younger."

"Oh." Jolie looked a little surprised, but nodded. "I never had a boyfriend."

"They're overrated." I laughed and that was what I needed, a real laugh to lighten me up.

I was so tense suddenly and I didn't know why. It wasn't my body, being naked in front of this girl I'd picked up in a bar, it was something else. Stress maybe. I'd killed before, three times to be exact, but tonight I'd been alone, all by myself, and I had no one to share it with. The joy of victory, or perhaps the guilt, I wasn't sure. I was confused and my fingers itched, just the tips, so that I found myself rubbing my thumbs across them, feeling like I should be doing something else. Something was wrong and I looked around, but we were alone in my apartment, I knew that. The world was outside and I was safe now.

"Come here…" She tilted her head invitingly. "…I'm no boyfriend."

"Yeah." I nodded, trying to clear my head as I walked closer and then crawled slowly up the bed so I could lie down next to her.

"You're so beautiful." Jolie took me in her arms, turning onto her side to face me. "I wish you weren't leaving."

"I know." I sighed, bringing my right hand to her shoulder, stroking her soft skin.

I could feel her fingers along my back, tracing the curve of my spine and it sent a little shiver through me, a pleasant one and I closed my eyes against it. Her hand kept going, finding my ass, small and round, even for Jolie who wasn't a large girl at all. She squeezed my butt, drawing me slightly closer and our lips were almost touching now. I could smell her skin, lotion and sweat and the whiskey she'd been drinking, the sweet peach from her wine cooler.

"You're so tense." She giggled softly. "Relax…I won't hurt you. I promise."

Jolie's lips were soft and buttery, pressing against mine like a dream and it had been a long time since I'd been with another girl. Her tongue brushed across my mouth and I opened for her, sighing and bringing my hand to her soft hair as Jolie's tongue dipped between my lips, flitting like a firefly as I tickled it with my own. Our eyes were open, our blue eyes looking into each other and I slowly moved so I could lay on top of her, Jolie spreading her thighs pulling me against her as if I were a boy intent on fucking her.

She lifted her legs, bending her knees and drawing her heels into my back. We were making love, or something very much like it, my sex rubbing against her panty covered slit, our breasts pressed firmly against each other hard. I could feel my nipples aching with desire, flashing hot and cold all at once as I chased the girl's tongue out of my mouth and into her hers. We were both moaning softly, making the soft wet sounds that kissing deeply brings. I worked blindly at Jolie's bra, pulling the thin lace cups down so her nipples would find mine. She had long, hard ones, that seemed to prick my skin and I rubbed my own against them eagerly.

"Go down…" Jolie breathed after untold minutes of making out like that. "Go down on me…Please…"

She was pushing me so I could kiss and lick my way down her tanned California body. I paused at her breasts, sucking each one for a half minute at least, biting them with my teeth and chewing the thick rubbery nubs gently. My fingers found her panties and I inched them down her smooth thighs while I continued to worship Jolie's flesh. I kissed her tummy, nibbling at her pierced belly button and dragging my tongue across her soft skin. All the while I kept my eyes upward, on the girl's face. She was watching me and smiling, brushing hair from my eyes while I made love to her with my mouth and hands.

Jolie's sex was ripe with her arousal. I could smell her musky scent as I kissed the soft swell of her mound. I rubbed my chin lightly across her clit, a hard pinkish knot of flesh that begged for real attention. She had light brown hair, like a silken veil covering her moist slit, and I parted Jolie's swollen labia tenderly with my fingers and then my tongue. I didn't tease her, she was lifting her hips already, begging for the attentions of my hungry mouth and I was only too happy to give it to her.

I lay on my stomach, with Jolie's legs up slightly, over my shoulders and spread lazily while I mouthed her beautiful sex. She was hot and sweet, with just a hint of salty sour flavor to tease my taste buds. I wanted her strong and cumming, with all of her flavor pouring across my tongue as I stiffened it. She had her hands in my hair, moaning loudly and urging me to fuck her cunt with my tongue. Jolie was fun to suck and fuck, very vocal and active and that just made it better for me. I brought my hand close, pushing my middle finger inside her, sliding it beneath my tongue and twisting it around, feeling the girl's slippery walls clasp at the intrusion with pleasure.

Her clit was hard now, erect like a tiny cock and I dragged my tongue across it slowly, testing Jolie, wanting to know what she liked, how she'd respond, and her sharp gasp told me she liked it. I slipped another finger into her sex, pumping her cunt faster as I concentrated on that turgid bit of flesh at the top of her slit. I licked around it, teasing her briefly before Jolie's hands pulled me against her, begging me to suck her clit harder. She was getting close and I pursed my lips to her clitoris, working it gently and tickling just the very tip of it with my tongue, flicking it fast for a long minute or two which seemed to be what she liked most right then.

"Oh oh oh God…uh-huh…uh-uh…" She was digging her heels into my back, Jolie's orgasm becoming intimate as she sought leverage to grind her wanton sex against my face and fingers.

I gave her a touch of my teeth, just lightly upon her flesh and the girl's body shook violently as her clit was over-stimulated by that rough treatment. I dropped my mouth back to her cunt then, pulling my fingers free and opening wide to kiss that horny mouth between her thighs as a lover. I took all of her, sucking Jolie's labia between my lips, pushing my tongue once more inside her, French kissing her quivering hole like a lusty whore. She was cumming for me, gripping my head tightly and grinding her sex against my mouth hard. Her cries of pleasure filled my small apartment, echoing and leaking through the thin walls I was certain. My neighbors would know she was cumming, the whole world it seemed, because she was incredibly loud just then.

And her juices. Like a flood released in the midst of a storm I was suddenly drowning in Jolie's orgasm, the smell was overpowering, filling my nose even as the rich flavor, oily and sultry and…Like brine coming off a tropical reef, it was a raw taste and it curled my tongue as I swallowed her eagerly. I loved her taste and smell, and the feel of her writhing form beneath my hands and mouth. Jolie was like no one else, she was unique and beautiful to me then, and I did everything I could to prolong her ecstasy, to bring her off as many times as I could as quickly as possible. She was breathless and giggling and sobbing all at once, and I fed off her cunt like a girl starving for it.

"Oh my God…You fuck good…" Jolie was still catching her breath when I moved my body back up the bed to lay beside her, cradling the winded girl and kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on my mouth.

"Mmmm…I love fucking you." I whispered and then made a little face, giggling as I reached beneath me, pulling her bra out from under my shoulder.

"Don't go anyplace." Jolie sighed. "I won't let you."

She was on her right side, facing me and she brought her left leg up, between my thighs so she could rub my sex with it. We kissed again and I played with her tits, pinching and pulling at the girl's left nipple while she stroked my back and neck lovingly. It was nice like that and we were just getting ready for whatever was coming next. Jolie was going to make it good for me, I knew, she was going to do everything she could to repay the pleasure I'd given her, and possibly convince me to stay just a few days more. We could spend it in bed, just the two of us, and that didn't seem like a bad idea just then. I was burning inside with desire for her and I knew I was going to cum, it was that sort of night.

"Ummphh…" I swallowed Jolie's moan, our mouths sealed tightly while our tongues bathed in the saliva we shared. "Fuck…I want you so bad…" She breathed a moment later. "…I knew a girl in Montreal once…But it wasn't like this…"

"Montreal…" The feelings were back and I knew what was wrong suddenly.

"What?" She was smiling at me and then her blue-green eyes went wide as I moved quickly, lifting myself up, grabbing Jolie's left arm and rolling her onto her stomach before she could resist.

I was on her back a split second later, straddling her narrow waist with my knees and putting my weight on her hips. Even as the girl turned her head to see me, to ask what I was doing, I had her bra in my hands, wrapping the red lace around her neck and jerking it tight with all my strength, pulling upward as if I might snap her spine. Jolie's head came up and her shoulders and breasts as well. She tried to reach behind me, flailing wildly, trying to reach my hands, clawing at my wrists and arms, but I ignored her, pulling that bra tighter and tighter until the nylon was embedded in her soft skin, crushing the girl's delicate neck. My arms burned with the effort and I rode her jerking body as she became violent, fighting for her life.

I didn't know who she worked for, and truthfully I didn't know that she was working for anyone, but she'd lied to me. There was no reason for it; that was the key. I wouldn't have cared, but Jolie had lied and my earlier feelings, my intuition or sixth sense, it had been warning me. I'd ignored it then, but not this time. Something had been wrong and Jolie had lied and that was all the evidence I needed.

I left her where she lay on my bed, the bra still around her neck. I'd watched her briefly, feeling anger more than anything else. She should have been smarter than that. I didn't care that she was working against me, probably for the Chinese, that would make sense. She was just supposed to watch me, probably, make sure I wasn't double dealing the virus to someone else. She'd keep me busy and ask little questions, gather clues, search my apartment after she'd fucked me to sleep, who could say? Jolie shouldn't have lied though, that bothered me because it was such an amateurish mistake and so unnecessary.

It could be that she was just who she said she was and maybe Montreal was just…A bad memory. Something she'd wanted to forget and I'd murdered an innocent girl. I'd never know.

"Fuck." I grabbed my bag and left.

End of Part 11 Read RBVS Part 12

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