***
Shrinking the Dick.
She knew she should have put on panties this morning. Whenever Martin Toscana walked into her office, she felt her inner thighs become moist and hot. She made sure to not schedule any patients directly after him; she made herself come over and over for a half an hour after he left each week. Not very professional, but necessary if she wanted to focus on her other patients the rest of the day.
He sat down looking agitated, and Dr. Jillian Holt, PhD, smoothed her hands down her thighs. He followed the movement with his green eyes.
“I had that dream again.” He lowered his head, maintaining his gaze. “I was on a case somewhere in the boonies. Casing out a cabin where a witness was stashed. The people who hired me wouldn’t take it well if I didn’t make sure the job was done.”
“And you’re the PI again?”
“Yeah, yeah” he waved his hand, “I’m always a PI—in the dream.” He glanced down at her legs and could almost feel them wrapped around his head.
“Martin, how about we talk about your real job, at the bank?”
“No, I—I’d like to talk about this. See, in the dream I’m hired to find her because a mole in the FBI snitches her out, and the guys I’m working for want her…quiet. But instead of telling them where she is, I turn in the guys that hire me. This witness, she’s—well, it’d be a shame if they killed her. Let’s just leave it at that. Anyway, after I turn these guys in to the Feds, they come after me. Most likely the mole tells them what I did. See?”
Dr. Holt stood and walked over to the bookshelf near him, squeezing by him to reach for her book on dreams. He could smell her. She was fragrant, musky, the scent of a woman when she is aroused; the scent right before he plunges his tongue in her—
“Martin,” she turned away from the shelf, looking down to him, “have you considered that this recurring dream is symbolic for your desire to rescue someone? A desire to do the right thing in your waking life, perhaps?”
Her pussy was in front of his face and she felt like hiking up her skirt then and there, professional ethics be damned. Her breathing became heavy as he stared into her eyes.
He lost all of his reason about then.
“Martin—“ She whispered as his hand slid up her thighs and between her legs. He found her wet, ready, swollen. Her legs almost buckled and she shook her head, “No, we--I can’t...oh God...”
As if from a dream, he pulled his hand out from under her skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips. She moaned audibly. He placed his large hands on her ass, pulling her to him, burying his mouth on the outside of her skirt. She held onto his shoulders, but simultaneously pushed away. She glanced at her degrees on the wall. That sobered her up. This guy was married, a banker, living in the suburbs. What did she think would happen?
Jillian pushed away from him and smoothed her skirt, breathing loudly, trying to gain some composure. She walked shakily toward her desk and sat down. Her face was flushed as her pussy pulsed with the warmth of his fingers. Three more minutes and she would have been there. The benefits of being 37.
Martin whooshed his breath out and ran his hand through his hair. “God, I’m—I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. I guess it’s because I won’t be in to see you anymore.”
“What?” No! “Why—I mean, it’s probably for the best, now, but—“
“No, it’s my insurance. The bank’s changed providers, and well, look, I’m sorry. I--I won’t be back.” She watched as he grabbed his long leather duster and walked toward her. Her legs fell open slightly, knowing that if he knelt in front of her, buried his face in her, she wouldn’t resist again. But he didn't.
He pulled her up by her shoulders gruffly and kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep inside her mouth, causing her hands to course through his thick wavy hair. Her own dark hair tumbled out of its bun, and she grabbed her glasses and yanked them off. She brought her hands down to caress him. His hard cock strained against his black slacks. Before she could undo his pants, he pulled away and walked out of her office, glancing back only once.
He didn’t look happy to leave.
She sat panting in her chair. When she could stand, she locked her door and hiked up her skirt.
She felt her slick wetness where his hand had been and her other hand pulled her dress shirt out so she could snap open her bra.
One hand played on her taut nipples while the other rhythmically stroked her clit, her legs splayed out in front of her. Her hips danced up from her leather chair, and she shimmied herself to the floor, not caring what noises her assistant would hear. Not this time. When she came, she groaned loudly, calling out and thrusting her hips up. And she couldn’t stop at just one.
Outside in the alley, Martin’s hand rapidly stroked his cock, pulling the last of his orgasm all over the building’s wall. It was the same place he always did it. His disappointment was bitter as he watched her this one last time, knowing there would be no more Tuesdays to watch her flushed face go taut with her climax. He’d taken a chance today, but he couldn’t leave her without saying goodbye.He parked his car around the block from his building. He looked up at his apartment window. The light was on. Shit. They had already found where he lived. And there was no way he could go back to his office, ever. He hoped his secretary had gotten the message. She was a nice gal. He would have to compensate her later. Unfortunately PI’s only got paid half up front. He doubted the other half was coming. He was running out of money and time. He was once again glad he had never told Dr. Jill who and what he really was. Let her think I’m a banker. Let her think I’m a cheating schmuck. Better she think that than be dead.
He got back into his black Spyder and headed downtown to his emergency hole-up. He brought his hand up to his face and smelled her again. There wouldn’t be any time for fantasies. He had too many people after him, now. He would have to go get the witness, get her safe, then disappear.
The morning was caressing the sky as Jill sat nervously at the edge of her desk tapping her leg manically.
The FBI scoured her office, already disheveled from the night before.
“Look, Dr. Holt, I can get a court order.”
“Then you’ll have to. I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not a patient is under my care.” She had honestly never heard of the man, but she couldn’t tell them that, one way or another. What it had to do with her office being broken into last night, she didn’t know.
“Okay, okay, so why is it that only one file was stolen, huh? This ‘Martin Toscana’?
“I told you, I’ve no idea.” She shifted uncomfortably as the agent’s eyes bored into her.
“Uh huh. Let me remind you, Doctor, that you called us to investigate this burglary. You ain’t bein’ too helpful.”
“I called the police, not the FBI.”
A young, fresh faced agent came in quickly, “I got it, Agent Stringham. I got Talbot’s photo.”
The older man took it and shoved it into Jill’s face, “Okay, Doc, are you tellin’ me you’ve never seen this man?”
Jill gasped. The man they were calling Marcus Talbot was none other than Martin Toscana.
“He’s—that’s not his name…”
“Oh yeah, Marcus Talbot’s his name all right, and we’ve been tailing him here for weeks. He’s in deep shit with some very bad people. Now, you wanna tell me what you know, or do you wanna see him dead?”
Jill swallowed a lump in her throat and shook her head. “Court order.”
If he lied about his name, what else has he lied about?
His cell rang and he planned on ignoring it again, but something made him check out the number. He recognized it, vaguely. On impulse, he picked up.
“Yeah.”
“So, Martin, do I call you that, or Marcus?”
“Shit. Dr.—Jillian, what the fuck are you doing calling me?”
“Who’s after you really? Did you know the Feds have been tailing you? You aren’t a banker, are you? Holy shit. Someone has stolen my file, everything on you! And if one shred of what you told me is true, you’re in it deep. Martin—Marcus… I can help you. Where are you?”
“We can’t talk now. Meet me at the bar in the Rivers Hotel on 83rd. I’ll be in the very back.”
He hung up, and Jillian’s hands shook as she hung up her phone. She inhaled deeply and then shuddered. Abruptly, her inner thighs became very, very wet.
He was all the way in the back of the smoky bar, head down, eyes cast up. A familiar look to her. She swallowed heavily and walked toward him. The band played a jazz tune three beats slower than the original, giving it a morose, gothic quality. The Naugahyde chairs in black and red bore tears in all the seats. Her heels clicked on the bare spots in the filthy red carpet runner, and she hoped she wouldn’t trip on the shredded holes.
She stood at the table awaiting the invitation to sit, but without a word he grabbed her hand and briskly strode out the back, dragging her behind him as she protested. He burst through the kitchen, a cook shouting at them in Indian. She resisted, becoming alarmed. She really didn’t know him after all.
“Hey, wait! You may be a--a tough guy, asshole, but you can’t just—“
Marcus pulled her outside into the alley, wheeled her around and pushed her up against the brick wall. Steam poured out of the exhaust near them as he locked his mouth on hers. It isn’t what he’d had in mind when she got there.
But seeing her, he had to taste her, had to fuck her. She held his face in her hands as she ate at his mouth, moaning as his hands wandered over her breasts, finding her nipples and clamping them between his fingers.
They tore at each other’s clothes, and she panted in his ear, “Fuck me, I want you to fuck me…”
Her skirt was long and soft and again, nothing kept his hand from her soft, wet folds. He stroked her, and becoming impatient, thrust two fingers into her until she cried out. Letting him support her weight, she moaned into his shoulder. His other hand freed his cock, already pulsing and moist, and he rubbed it against her stomach. She buried her face into his shoulder, biting him, moaning aloud for him to take her.
He brought her face back to his, devouring her mouth, wanting her amidst the smoky darkness of the alley and the chaos of the city noise.
“Where?” She asked, looking around. He answered her by lifting her up on a low window sill. The brick scratched her ass, and the pain brought a sharp breath from her. He roughly spread her legs and did what he’d wanted to do the very first time he saw her. He knelt down, plunging his tongue in her slippery-wet folds. She tasted like she smelled, all perfume, musk and sweet-honey. His tongue worked her clit, his mouth covered in her juices as he drank her in. She held handfuls of his hair, pulling him into her, moaning as her orgasm spilt upward and out of her. His moaning coaxed her waves.
He stood, holding his cock at her opening and pushed his way into her tightening pussy. She was already coming, and he hadn’t even penetrated her.
He worked his way inside, her tightness increasing with her climax. She spilled over him again. He thrust into her, feeling her hotness encase his shaft. He slammed into her as she made helpless noises, digging her nails into him.
He felt himself pulse into her, his orgasm spilling out, his legs shaking with the force of it.
“Marcus? It’s ‘Marcus’, isn’t it?” He laughed into her shoulder and pulled away.
“Yeah. Yeah that’s my name.”
“Why did you come to see me? Why all the bullshit about being married—are you married?” Her eyes were wide.
“No, no, not married. And as you probably guessed, I’m not in the banking business either. What happened with the Feds?”
Jill pulled her skirt down and stood, shakily. She felt the wetness trickle down her soaked thighs and sat back on the ledge. “Uh, I need to clean up a bit.”
“I have a room here; let’s go upstairs and clean up.”
“What? You have a room here and you fucked me in an alley?” Her face was incredulous and he smiled slyly at her.
“I like alleys.”
His room was sparse and dark. She walked in and listened to him run the shower.
“So you’re a Private Dick, huh? You sure had me fooled. You are either a consummate actor, or completely psychopathic.”
He poked his head out of the bathroom and smiled, “Maybe a little of both.”
“Great. That makes me feel so much better.”
He walked out of the bathroom nude. His muscular body swayed confidently and he leaned up against the door jam. She wanted to touch that salt and pepper hair again. His green eyes looked her over and she felt herself getting excited all over again. He saw the look on her face. “Look, Jill, I can’t see you after this.”
Her eyebrows furrowed as he came over to her and began stripping off her clothes. She shook her head, “I don’t understand. If what you said was true, then can’t the Feds put you in protective custody? Can’t you go into some kind of hiding?”
“Someone in the FBI is in on getting rid of this witness.”
“What? That was true too?”
“Yeah. That’s how the guys that hired me found this witness in the first place. An FBI mole. No one knows who he is, but wherever I go, they’ll find me, too. I gotta get her to a safe place, then I’m gone. I have to disappear. You are taking a huge risk being with me now. I shouldn’t have had you come here. God, I have wanted you for so long.”
As the water tumbled over her curvy body, he took in her striking face, her hair trailing around her shoulders, her breasts.
Her eyes looked wounded, then. She looked up at him, “Marcus, I can’t accept that I can’t see you again. Technically, you were never my patient, Martin was. We could—we could wait until all of this blows over, we could—“
“No, Jill, we can’t. You’re in it too deep already. The people who are after me won’t stop until she’s dead and me along with her. If they think you know something, you could be in danger, too.”
“I can help you, hide you. Tell me where you’ll be; I can help you hide her. I can’t live with not seeing you again! I have to know you’re okay.” Her eyes became red and she sniffed loudly.
He kissed her again and this time, it was soft, languorous. He knelt in front of her, suckling her nipples as she tilted her head back. He made his way down, and she stopped him. “No.”
She helped him up and then knelt in front of him. She maintained eye contact with him as she licked his balls, already taut with anticipation. She stroked her tongue all the way up his shaft, and took him in her mouth, down her throat. Her tongue worked the tip of his cock as he felt her moving him in and out of her yielding mouth.
“Oh, God…we don’t have time….”
“Tell me where you’ll be, how I can reach you. I know people that can help you. Then I’ll stop if you really want me to.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
She got a playful look in her eyes and smiled. “Well then, I’ll keep going if you tell me.” With that, she engulfed him in her mouth, and then roughly let him go.
He stared in her eyes and knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without her. He pulled her up and kissed her. He realized at that moment that he’d never had anyone with whom he had been more intimate. He’d told her his deepest, darkest desires, his most intimate dreams, his real nightmares. If he could trust her with all of that, he could trust her with this. He whispered in her ear and she smiled.
She took him in her mouth, moaning as she suddenly took him deep. She sucked as she brought her lips to his head, licking off the slippery juices forming there.
“What do you say we go to the bed? The water isn’t staying warm.”
His vision cleared long enough to nod in assent.
He dried her off, then himself. These shitty motels never give you more than one towel. He opened the door and walked out, stopping short.
“Hello Marcus.” The man sat on the bed, the .38 sitting benignly in his lap.
Marcus wanted to throw himself on him, kill him with his bare hands. He didn’t want Jill even near the son of a bitch. “Look, I met her at the bar. Let her out of here and we’ll talk.”
Jill held on to Marcus’s shoulders from behind, then moved him aside. She walked around to the bed.
“What the fuck?”
Jill turned and recited the whereabouts of the witness as she got dressed.
The man on the bed smiled and picked up his cell, dialing.
Marcus looked at Jill, shock replaced by rage. “You bitch. You fucking bitch. You work for these assholes?”
“So do you, Marcus.”
Marcus shook his head. “Not anymore. You just killed an innocent woman, you fucking cunt.”
Jill smiled. “That ‘innocent woman’ was going to testify against Vince Velarde, my boss. She seduced him, stole from him, then turned on him. I was protecting mine. Tell me, did she fuck you too, to get you to protect her?”
He thought of the woman, her petite, delicate beauty, vulnerability… “None of your fucking business.”
“Fine. But know this. Whatever you may feel for me, I just saved your life.”
“You think so? I’m a dead man either way.”
The man on the bed shook his head. “No. This witness goes away, you’re free and clear.” The man put the gun away. “The Feds want the mole. They could give a shit about your witness. Free and clear, my friend.”
“Right.” Marcus stared at Jill, her dark beauty mocking him.
The man on the bed stood, “You don’t get it, asshole. Do you know who her boss is?”
“No, I don’t and I don’t give a fuck.”
“Well you’d better give a fuck. Because he’s the guy who’s gonna take care of your little blond bitch. Then you, my friend, are clear on both sides. Just keep your nose clean and your mouth shut.”
“Oh? And what’s gonna keep your guys from taking me out anyway, huh?”
He jerked his thumb toward Jill as he walked out the door, “The boss’s little sister. Have a nice day.”
The door closed behind him and Marcus stared into Jill’s eyes. In the deafening silence, Jill smiled. “Now, where were we?”
END
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