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Subject: {ASSM} JOA: Ch. 25 - Alyson Hannigan (MF,cons,celeb)
Date: Thu, 14 Feb 2002 03:10:12 -0500
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Feedback and suggestions always welcome. This is a continuation from
chapter 24, read the note below to catch up. The next four chapters
will consist of one long story line, so make sure you follow along if
you want to enjoy the story to it's fullest.



Journal of an Agent: Chap. 25 - Alyson Hannigan 

By Carnage Jackson 

carnagejackson@hotmail.com
_____________________________________________________ 

Standard Disclaimer: 

You must be 18 to read this story, be able to read erotica in your
community, not be offended by the contents of it...blah blah, you know
the rest. 

This story may be distributed freely, for commercial or non-commercial
use, but PLEASE leave my email/name on it! That's all I ask! 

This is Part 25 of an ongoing series. Yes I know the celebs don't act
like this in real life, but this is a fantasy after all. 
_____________________________________________________ 


(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 buyoancy 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 dissapear. 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 otherside
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 gravenly. 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 

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http://www.carnagejackson.com 

_____________________________________________________

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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