The Alpha Club (Chapters 1 And 2) free porn video

THE ALPHA CLUB BY TRISHA PREFACE This is a story of fiction that contains graphic sexual scenes. In many ways, it does not try to be particularly realistic, using a mysterious magic to transform men into sex-addicted bimbos. Be warned; it is inherently sexist, some might even say misogynistic, and I make no real apology for that. It is a fantasy I like living out in my mind and no more. If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea, then read no further. But if, like me, that's exactly what you're looking for in a TG story, then I hope this one doesn't disappoint you. I've spent a long time organizing and writing "The Alpha Club" (much longer than was good for me, to tell you the truth), so if you have a comment, especially a positive one, I would love to hear it. Thanks and enjoy! CHAPTER ONE: THE FUGITIVES PASADENA, CALIFORNIA WEDNESDAY, JULY 4 Arnold Clemson was a goddamn cocksucker. Of course, Julian knew this before he ever came to Clemson's home. But knowing that Arnold Clemson was a fucking wiseass jerkoff and witnessing him being one for several hours were two different things. But that's business, Julian told himself. Clemson wanted to buy him out, and he wasn't going to be nice about it. Arnold Clemson, the big shot automobile salesmen, famous for some of the most expensive, neon- decorated billboard signs in all of the Los Angeles area, was ready to make a deal with Julian Rose: to buy up Julian's own small time car lot and erase what little competition Julian would give him. The house was impressive, as it was meant to be. Julian could only guess, but it must have had eight or more bedrooms. The dining room that they ate in was large enough to entertain two dozen people easily, and Julian felt small and misplaced at the end of its long oak table. Clemson had brought his young bride, Veronica, to the table: a blonde 20-year old bombshell compliment to Clemson's balding 55-year old life. Veronica, Julian could tell, really enjoyed the role of trophy wife and she played it expertly. She had a way of puffing out her lips in a silly but sexy way and making a lot of fuss about her manners and appearance. "More salmon, Mr. Clemson," the maid asked, standing next to him with a tray of food. She was a young dark-haired woman named Madeline and she wore (or it would be better to say Clemson made her wear) a small, tightly fitting black outfit with white frills. Julian was embarrassed for her the moment he saw her. "Yes, please, sugar," Clemson answered, giving Madeline a lustful wink. "I'll take whatever you got." Madeline pretended not to see the wink and turned toward Veronica. "How about you, Ma'am?" Veronica shook her head. "Oh, no, I shouldn't. A girl has to watch herself." She giggled, and her husband, apparently approving of her decision, smiled and leaned toward her for a kiss. One of his hands shot up and gave her breast a squeeze. He didn't even try to hide it. Despite himself, Julian found he was highly attracted to Veronica. But he excused this as normal. The important thing was not to act on this attraction. Clemson had obviously brought Veronica to dinner as a way of showing off, or perhaps distracting Julian, or maybe both at once. Julian knew he needed to concentrate. He needed to focus on the business at hand. And looking at some pretty girl's cleavage was not going to help. Madeline went back in the kitchen to start cleaning up. Clemson watched her go, clearly leering at her bottom as it stretched the thin fabric of her maid's dress. Then he squeezed Veronica's semi-exposed thigh under the table, gave a sidelong look to Julian, and said in the sweetest voice his greedy mind could manage: "Have you thought about my offer, Julian?" "Yes, I have, Mr. Clemson, and I think--" "Call me Arnold," Clemson said. "Arnold, then," Julian corrected. "I think it's very low. Too low." He paused. "A hundred thousand dollars too low." "It's what your little car lot is worth, Julian," Clemson told him, still smiling. "Not one red Indian penny more, either." "It's less than what I paid for it three years ago." Clemson's grin widened. This news seemed to have made him even happier. He glanced at Veronica, as if he now had a bigger hard-on for her than ever, then loosened his tie a bit to make himself comfortable. Now he talked without any hint of sweetness at all: "Let's be frank, Julian. You're in over your head. You need to move the property. You need to get out of your loans. I've even been hearing that you want to leave L.A. altogether." "But how do you--" "I have friends all over, Julian," Clemson explained. "We even have mutual friends. And they tell me you want out. Right now. They also say no one else is buying right now." Julian had a feeling he knew who their "mutual friend" was: Theodore Carlyle, his office manager and accountant. Things had been tense with them for a while, ever since Julian had refused to give Theodore a raise he asked for, a raise Julian couldn't afford. Now because of Theodore's backroom deal (did Clemson offer him a position at one of his own lots?), he would be forced to settle on an awful buyout. "What do you say, Julian?" Before he could respond, Madeline came back in from the kitchen with dessert. "Coffee cake?" she said in a strained voice. Her job, and Clemson's leering, were clearly taxing on her. The doorbell rang, and Julian was as relieved at the interruption. Madeline put down the cake and left the room. A moment later she returned to the dining room with two men in suits and fedora hats. Clemson was instantly irritated. He stood up, frowning: "Madeline, I told you I wanted no visitors right now." Madeline did not respond, but looked at the floor instead. She seemed confused and cowed to Julian. "Mr. Arnold Clemson?" the man on the right said. He had neatly trimmed dark hair, nearly black, and a piercing gaze that was difficult to look at straight. He talked casually, as if in no hurry. "You might remember me. My name is Jesse Samson." "Yes, I remember," Clemson said gathering himself and sitting back down. "You bought those two Sedan de Villes just last week. How can I help you this afternoon?" He didn't like being intruded upon, but, always the businessman, he wanted to examine the situation before he burned any bridges. Besides, the men seemed to demand respect. They didn't look like people that could be shooed away. "This is Mel, a friend of mine," he said. "I'm sorry to bother you, but we have suddenly come into a bit of trouble. Would you mind if we came in and used your telephone?" "Of course," Clemson tried to say in his most generous tone, which wasn't very convincing. "Madeline, please bring in the telephone in here." Julian somehow felt it was more than just a sense of duty that prompted Clemson to oblige the men, or even for Madeline to let them in. Something about the man, and something about his friend, made it seem unwise to cross them. "Please make yourself at home," Clemson said, pointing to the pair of empty chairs next to Julian. "You must have kept that business card I gave you, with my address. That was lucky for you." "Very lucky," Jesse said. "And I'm afraid we're going to need a bit more luck." Jesse's friend, Mel, said nothing. Julian noticed that though his face was lighter and more innocent than Jesse's, he was not as calm. He pulled together the two giant doors that connected the dining room to the living room and locked them behind him. Then he looked around the room suspiciously, as if ready for an attack from somewhere. When he was satisfied that he wouldn't be, he settled into one of the wooden chairs. But he didn't sit down next to Julian, as Clemson had asked him to. He sat next to Veronica. "What kind of trouble are you men in?" Clemson asked politely, though Julian could tell he didn't like the tall, good-looking man sitting next to his wife. Madeline came back in from the kitchen with the telephone, dragging a long extension cord behind her. Jesse took the phone, asked her to sit down, then stood in front of the kitchen door, blocking the only remaining way out of the room. "I'm going to have to ask everyone to sit quietly for a while," he said, his voice deepening into an authoritative command. The man had a presence to him, an aura, one that made it hard to negotiate with. And negotiating was what Julian did every day with his customers. He was used to haggling over the price, talking up the features of a car, belittling the potential problems. But talking with Jesse was like talking to someone who you knew was always going to be right. And who always knew he WAS right. So Julian wanted to keep asking questions. But he remained sitting. So did Madeline and Veronica. Only Arnold Clemson resisted. "Now look here, sir," he began pompously, standing up again. But there was a slight tremor in his voice. "This is very funny business, coming into my house like this and locking it up. Can you please explain what is happening? This is not..." "Shut up," Mel growled, speaking up for the first time. There was a short but tense pause as he lit up a cigarette. "Go get us some coffee from the kitchen." "I certainly will not," Clemson huffed. "Not one step will I take. And neither will my maid. Not until some things get explained around here." "Let the little lady do it, then," Mel smiled. He turned to Clemson's wife. "What's your name, honey?" "Veronica." "Be a good girl and go get us some coffee, Veronica," Mel continued, reaching over and patting her on the knee. "And if you're extra nice about it, I'll be extra nice to you." This was too much for Clemson. "That was uncalled for, sir. I will not tolerate such abuse to my wife." "SIT DOWN!" Mel ordered. And to everyone's surprise, perhaps more so to Clemson than to anyone else, he did. Scared, Veronica went into the kitchen quickly. Julian wondered if she would return at all. But she was back in less than a minute (Madeline had apparently made the coffee for dessert), nervously holding two saucers and cups. Julian, Madeline, and Clemson were still sitting silently around the table, waiting for what they knew not. Jesse went to the corner of the room and began talking on the telephone. Mel, listening in, relaxed and stared at chandelier on the ceiling. Neither of the strange men had drawn a gun, but they seemed like the types who would carry them. And even if they didn't have any weapons, they were tall and strong, and their looks held as much power over the house as any gun would have. Jesse took his coffee from Veronica with a gracious nod, still talking on the phone. He was calm but very serious. Mel, in contrast, seemed to be enjoying himself, grinning knowingly when he took the coffee, and then, after setting the saucer next to him on a sofa table, gesturing to his lap. "There's room to sit right here, baby," he told her. "My wife is not..." Clemson began to say, but then he stopped. Veronica was suddenly sitting in the man's lap. She was still nervous, but now there was a smile on her face, as big as Mel's. "Hmmmm," she cooed, almost involuntarily. "Veronica, dear," Clemson called over to her from the couch. "What are you doing?" But Veronica ignored him, staring into Mel's eyes and giggling. While all of this happened, Julian was trying to concentrate on Jesse's telephone conversation in the corner, but he wasn't making out a whole lot. Jesse was speaking in a soft voice, not quite a whisper, and the words Julian could catch were vague and disconnected. He gathered that Jesse was trying to set up a date and time, perhaps for a meeting. "I can be there at six," he heard Jesse say. "I think. It all depends on transportation....Yes, I think I can get it...The trains are being watched....Yes...Yes...The airports too...But they can't watch all the highways, not all the time, right?....No, I'm not sure....Perhaps...No...No....We'll see when it happens when we get there." The last thing Jesse said was "Don't let me down. You might come down with me." Then he hung up and looked at them as though seeing the room for the first time. Mel had both hands up Veronica's blouse and was whispering something in her ear that was making her laugh. Clemson was silent but volcanic, turning red in the face and not removing his eyes from the scene before him. Jesse hardly seemed to register the scene, as though he had seen the same thing happen a hundred times before. "What's the plan?" Mel asked, not bothering to take his eyes off the girl in his lap. "For now, we wait," Jesse answered. "We're too vulnerable during the day. We'll have to wait until it gets dark." He turned toward Clemson. "I need you, Mr. Clemson, to take us to your lot tonight afterhours when everyone has gone home. I've got to get a new car." He must have caught some anxiety in Clemson's eye, which he misinterpreted, perhaps intentionally. "Don't worry. I'll give you a fair price for it." Clemson was shaken and nearly unable to respond. These men were certainly dangerous. Their manner and demeanor made that certain. But there was something else about them. Madeline must have felt it too, for she had not said a word to these invaders. Veronica was also responding, as if she was under some sort of spell. Twenty minutes before she had been the fawning young wife of Arnold Clemson. Now she was becoming the willing toy of Mel right in front of him. What on earth was happening? thought Julian. The only person who did not seem under the men's spell, or at least not completely, was Clemson, who was now purple with rage. Something was about to boil over, Julian could see. Mel seemed completely apathetic, even ignorant, but Jesse noticed. "It will not do to get upset, Mr. Clemson" he said. Clemson responded with clenched teeth: "Tell your friend to unhand my wife. He needs to control himself." "I'm afraid it's you who will have to control yourself," Jesse told him. Something about this made Veronica laugh, and she turned back toward her husband for the first time in many minutes. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she said, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "Something's just got into me. But we're only having a little fun." These words proved to be the trigger that set off Clemson and he leaped from the chair, planning to attack Mel or Veronica or both. However, he had only gotten to his feet when, all in one instant, Jesse intercepted him and threw him to the ground. Julian had never seen anyone move as fast. The man's strength, he realized, must have been amazing. Jesse wasn't even breathing hard as he stood above Clemson, holding his neck down with the back of his foot. "I know this must be difficult for you," Jesse explained, as though he was counseling him. "But you have a choice to make." "You will have to kill me before I sit and watch my wife get treated like that," Clemson coughed. "To dishonor her like..." Veronica laughed, cutting him short. "We will not kill you unless we have to," Jesse said in a bored tone. He seemed to have something else on his mind. Perhaps his telephone conversation, Julian thought. "And there are worse things than death." "Let's turn this fucker," Mel said with both malice and amusement. "We may have to," Jesse agreed. "We can't babysit him the whole night. And it would certainly keep him docile." "And everyone else, too," Mel added. "Once they saw it." Jesse nodded thoughtfully. "As I was saying," he called down to Clemson, still under his shoe. His tone had risen as if he were speaking to someone who was slightly deaf or who did not understand English very well. "You have a choice. And it looks like you are going to have to make it right now. Be compliant. Or be made compliant." Suddenly Arnold Clemson did the last thing Julian ever thought Arnold Clemson would do. He began crying. At first, it was only a soft whimper, but soon it became a loud, hiccupping sob. He began pounding the hardwood floor, palms flat, his face contorting grotesquely. "That's it," Mel said, raising his voice above the great noise coming from Clemson. "We don't need this." Jesse considered Mel's words silently for a few moments. His face said the matter was vital to him, but he remained composed. He was not as rash as Mel, Julian thought. He wanted time to think. Finally, though, when it became clear that Clemson was only going to get louder and more unruly, he decided to act. "Get up," he told Clemson gruffly, lifting his shoe off the man's neck. Clemson rose from the floor, his suit and hair ruffled and his face a combination of sweat, anger, and fear. He was still whimpering. Without taking his eyes off him, Jesse pulled off his jacket. Julian's first thought was that he was going to beat Clemson and, by the look in his eyes, beat him badly. This was what Clemson thought too, for he stiffened and pulled himself back, trying to get out of arm's reach. To everyone's surprise, however, Jesse threw no punch. Instead, he reached for a large gold ring on his right hand, spinning it around his finger slowly as if counting each revolution. Julian had noticed the ring earlier but now he took a good look at it. It appeared to be made of solid gold and had a large square signet to it that held four small black stones. Jesse's eyes never broke from Clemson's, and Julian thought he heard him mumble something under his breath. Then he heard Madeline gasp next to him. He had been paying so much attention to Jesse that he hadn't been looking at Clemson at all. But now he couldn't stop staring. Something had happened. Something was still happening. There was nothing extraordinary about the situation that Julian could have explained, at least at first. And yet he knew he was seeing something at odds with normal reality. There was a great, suffocating tension in the air. Jesse was staring intensely at Clemson and, uncannily, Clemson looked back at him with the same intensity. It was as if they were having a silent conversation together, about something that held high stakes for both of them. It reminded Julian of two opponents, such as boxers, staring each other down before the fight, sharing a dialogue that was more than words. A dialogue that was nearly pure emotion. All at once something gave way and Clemson's face dropped. It was the expression of surrender. Then, just as Julian realized this, he forgot it, for he saw something else. It was not only Clemson's facial expression that had changed. It was his face. In a few short seconds it wasn't Clemson's face at all. Nor was it his head, which had suddenly lost its baldness in a quick explosion of hair--rich red hair that spilled past Clemson's shoulders in thick straight strands. Someone started laughing. It was only later that Julian deduced it was Mel. For the moment Julian could only think about the changes that were happening to the rest of Clemson's body. Most striking at first was his height. Julian could actually watch him shrinking, like watching a balloon slowly deflate. Except it wasn't all shrinking either. Other parts of his body were changing shape and swelling, even as everything else was getting smaller. Throughout it all, the same look of horror and disbelief never left Clemson's face. But by the end, a new emotion was added to this, an emotion not unlike curiosity or awe. It was only then, when the transformation was over, that Julian fully comprehended what he had just witnessed. This was partially due to the strangeness of it all, but it was also because of Clemson's suit, which hung too loose in some places and too tight in others. "He's a girl!" someone squealed. It was Veronica. But she sounded anything but horrified at her husband's change. It was pure glee in her voice. Clemson stood rooted to the floor as Jesse stepped toward him. Her. Or him? In matter of seconds, all ambiguity on the subject was lost, as Jesse tore off the drooping clothes, from the shirt and tie to the underwear, revealing a perfectly sculpted and seemingly natural woman's body. "Kneel," Jesse whispered, and for the first time that evening Julian detected a trace of animosity in his voice. Clemson did as "she" was commanded, falling forward on her knees and in the process removing her now tiny feet from the men's shoes. The only clothing left on her body was a pair of black wool socks and, in a few swift motions, Jesse had those off too. She was a beautiful woman, devastating really, and Julian couldn't take his eyes off her. Long, smooth legs. A pair of gorgeous tits balanced on a thin frame. A twenty year old girl. Or someone who looked like one. Could that really be Arnold Clemson? THE Arnold Clemson? Neon- billboard Arnold Clemson? What surprised Julian most, even after everything else that he had seen, was that she was so obedient. From her pretty neck down to her pretty toes, she kept very still, hardly twitching a muscle, and her eyes followed Jesse around the room as though she expected him to do something terrible--or wonderful. This, more than anything, made Julian doubt what he had seen. Was it some sort of trick? But how could that be? He had been watching up close the whole time. "It's good to have a little quiet in here at last," Jesse joked. Then, as if he were addressing a room filled with thirty people instead of five, he said, "I hope this has gotten everyone's attention. Mel and I are not normally so quick to turn a man we have just met. But this is a difficult time for us. And you," he turned to Clemson, "were making things much more difficult." "What's the plan?" Mel asked. "Did you get Hinson on the phone?" "Yes," Jesse answered, returning to his previous calm. "We'll meet him in Sacramento at dawn." "But we've got to get there first," Mel said. "That's why we have the services of Sally here," Jesse said, smiling at the transformed Clemson. "She's going to procure for us an automobile this evening, one completely untraceable to us. She's also going to give us everything in her personal safe. Is that alright, dear?" Clemson nodded, though with some effort. There was still a little resistance left in her it seemed. "And in the meantime, she is going to provide a sanctuary for us," Jesse continued. "In the meantime," Mel echoed, but he never finished the sentence. Instead, his teeth began to bite Veronica's ear playfully, which made her coo loudly. By this point, he had hiked up her dress and was now playing roughly with her, pulling her panties to the side and lifting her up so that he could unbuckle his pants. "Ooohhhhh," Veronica groaned as he impaled her, and without any unnecessary delay she began to hop impatiently up and down. There was a steady, rhythmic patting noise of skin hitting skin and Julian thought he could hear slurping sounds on top of this. Her eyes, meanwhile, never left her husband--former husband. She seemed more turned on by his transformation than the meat slamming into her. Julian himself felt strongly aroused by the scene. He looked back to Clemson, still kneeling before Jesse. Though she hadn't made a move, he saw that her eyebrows had knitted together slightly and her bottom lip bulged. She even cringed noticeably when Veronica let out a horny scream. "You see now, Sally," Jesse lectured. "We can make you as compliant as we wish. I can even get you to tell me where you hide your safe and what the combination for it is." Clemson, or Sally, made the smallest, nearly indiscernible shakes of the head. She grimaced as though trying to block out the heavy panting that was going on between Veronica and Mel across the table. Jesse laughed. "I guess you still don't understand. Well, I suppose I'll have to show you again how helpless you really are. But I'm not going to punish you this time. I'm going to give you something you want." He too unbuckled his belt and slipped down his pants. A giant cock sprung forward, as big as anything Julian could have thought possible, and bounced playfully in front of Sally's chin. Her mouth slowly began to open before she clamped it shut and gave another shake of the head, this time more pronounced. She shut her eyes tight. "Do you want it?" Jesse asked. Her face relaxed just enough for her to open her eyes and mouth. Her gaze never left the dick offered before her. There was a long, or what seemed like a long, moment of indecision. Then she leaned forward, ready to put her mouth on the thing. All at once, without any warning at all, Jesse slapped her across the cheek with his cock. "Tell me where the safe is, little princess, and I'll let you suck it," he told her. For a moment there was silence. Even the spell over Veronica seemed to have broken, or at least abated, while everyone watched to see what would happen. Then the dam broke. "It's in the master bedroom," a girl's voice whispered, high, girly voice, so squeaky she might have just breathed helium. It was the voice of a brainless bimbo, a voice no man could take seriously except as an invitation to fuck her. It seemed to startle her for a moment before she regained her thought process. "It's behind the dresser." "Very nice," Jesse sighed. He didn't seem surprised in the least that his victim had broken so easily. He coolly grabbed the back of Sally's head by her red hair and pulled her mouth onto his thick rod. She began gagging instantly but didn't put up a fight. Indeed, Julian could see how vigorously she began to suck and it wasn't long at all before she stopped gagging. "You are a true cocksucker," Jesse grunted, releasing her hair and letting her do all of the work herself. "And I think we've found your real name: Sally Sucksalot." Veronica and Mel melted into a laugh and started grinding against each other again. Whatever powers these men had, Julian thought, they seemed invincible. Suddenly, Julian felt something touch his leg. It was Madeline's, the maid's, left hand, and it was steadily making its way up to his crotch. He had forgotten about her completely with the spectacle going on before him, and she herself seemed to barely notice him. Her stare was fixed instead on her former boss, now a sexy redhead, slobbering all over a dick the size of her own forearm. Madeline's other hand, the one not in Julian's lap, had found its way up her maid's skirt where it rubbed as fast as Sally was sucking. Julian feverishly undid his pants and let Madeline play with his cock. She glanced quickly at it as she wrapped her fingers around it. Then she returned her gaze to Sally's bobbing head. For a minute or so, the room was nothing but slurping sounds and moans. Then Julian, though he was the last to start, was the first to finish. He'd never felt any orgasm like it in his life. There was an electricity to the room, charging his every nerve with pleasure. Seeing Veronica bounce, Sally suck, and Madeline squirm was all too much. He must have spurted two feet in the air. Madeline kept pumping as though she didn't notice, never taking her eyes off of Jesse and Sally. Then she was taken over by a series of spasms that make her jerk and twist away until she was limp. Then Veronica tensed into orgasm followed quickly by Mel. Finally, Jesse's breath, which had become steadily faster, drew abruptly short, and he grabbed the back of Sally's head even harder than before, holding her mouth down to the bottom of his shaft as he fired his seed down her throat. And though she choked as it went down, Sally herself never broke eye contact with his face, as if entranced. A heavy sigh filled the room. Everyone relaxed now, except for Sally who remained kneeling and nervous. "That's better," Jesse exhaled. "Now I can think properly again. Where were we? Oh yes, the safe. Behind the dresser in the master bedroom. But we still need the combination, don't we? I'll tell you what, Sally. You tell me the combination, and I'll let you wear your maid's uniform for the rest of the evening." For the first time since the transformation, Sally looked at Madeline. A terrible grin now spread across the maid's face, and she began to rub herself again, but slower this time, with more relish. "C'mon, Sally," Jesse egged. "You can't help yourself. You know how sexy you would be prancing around in that little thing with your cute ass sticking out the bottom. I'll even let you wear makeup. Wouldn't you love that?" Sally's eyes widened with excitement, then quickly looked down ashamedly. She was going through more emotions than she could handle at once. "Fifteen...thirty-two...nine...twenty-six," she said dejectedly, still looking at the floor below her knees. Her tone was sad, even depressed, but her high pitch only made it comical. "Good girl," Jesse soothed. "You're learning so fast now." He turned to Mel. "Did you get those numbers? Go upstairs and find the safe. Take all the cash and anything else that might be easy to sell. We'll need as much as we can if we're going to make it any farther than Sacramento. And...hmmm...take the maid and the man with you. What's your name?" There was brief pause. Reluctantly, Julian gave him his name. He was hoping he had hardly been noticed. "Don't worry, Julian," Jesse assured him, reading his thoughts. "I just need you to help Mel with carrying the things down from the safe. We have no need to turn you. Not yet anyway." Madeline opened the double doors back up and led them through the living room and up the stairs to the master bedroom. She seemed completely at ease, as if nothing strange had happened, and was even throwing seductive looks at Mel as she took them down the hall. She hardly seemed to notice Julian, whose semen was still sticky on her hand. It did not take long to find the safe and get it open. Julian did most of the work, while Mel just gave orders and supervised. Julian was slightly shocked at how much was inside, what must have been over $200,0000 in one-hundred dollar bills, but Mel seemed disappointed. Julian wanted to ask more than ever who he and Jesse really were and what they were running away from. It seemed impossible that they should be afraid of anyone or anything. Before they went back downstairs, Madeline made sure to stop at her room and grab a maid's uniform for Sally. Mel, only slightly irritated at the delay, waited for her to come back out before they all descended together. He gave a look to Julian, though, that wasn't altogether friendly. Perhaps he was wondering how much he should trust him. They heard Veronica's moaning in pleasure before they reached the bottom. The rest of the group, they discovered, had now moved into the living room. Jesse was back on the phone again, this time looking furtively through the window blinds as he talked. He never once sat down. Beside him, Veronica was now spreadeagle on the couch grunting rhythmically with Sally's head between her legs. She looked up dreamy- eyed at Mel as they entered. "Master Jesse said he wouldn't fuck me until I was cleaned up," she explained in her half-trance. "So Sally is helping me out. She's cleaning out my pussy nicely. Aren't you, dear?" Then she noticed the maid. "Oh my, Madeline. You've got to try her out. She's a hundred times as good in the sack now than she ever was as a man. I wouldn't trade in this tongue of her for anything! Certainly not that old prick he had." It looked like Sally wanted to lift her head up for a moment, perhaps to get some air or perhaps to say something, but Veronica pushed her right back down again, grinding hard her into her pussy and groaning madly. Meanwhile, Madeline licked her lips as she watch her old boss used like a whore. Julian saw her throw the maid's uniform she had brought down on one of the chairs and sit down next to Veronica, where she began to fondle the girl's tits with one hand while she played with herself with the other. "May I go next?" she asked. Veronica just nodded, too caught up in her ecstasy to talk. Meanwhile, Sally's ass, glistening with sweat, swung seductively in the air. Mel gave it one hard slap as he passed by, making her whimper loudly into Veronica's crotch. "So obedient now," he said. "Just the way you were meant to be." When Jesse saw Mel approaching, he hung up and they began conferring with each other quietly. All the while, Jesse kept peeking through the window blinds while Mel examined the room. Looking around anxiously, Julian didn't know what to do. Should he stand there or sit down? He wanted to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. These men could clearly do the same thing to him that they did to Clemson. What would stop them? They might even think we would be more "compliant" that way. He began to sweat. To make matters worse, or better, he was growing a hard-on again. The sex in the room was nearly palpable. When he glanced back at Jesse and Mel, he saw that they were staring at him intently. Then Mel beckoned him over to them. Julian's stomach sank. This couldn't be good. But he walked over anyway. "We'll be leaving pretty soon, Julian," Jesse said. "We've got the money and after we get a set of new wheels from the former Mr. Clemson's car lot, we'll be skipping out altogether. But there are still a few loose ends that need to be tied." Julian nodded, following along as best he could, though the moaning from the couch was getting loud, and he kept thinking of how it must feel for Clemson: breasts swinging, lapping up a pussy full of jizz, that ass swaying back and forth in the cool living room air. "In other words," Mel said in an annoyed tone, as though he was explaining something simple that Julian refused to understand, "we're ready to go, but we're afraid of leaving anyone behind who might snitch us to the cops...or someone even worse." "I'm very good at keeping quiet," Julian whispered. "I wasn't here. I know nothing about any of this. I swear. I don't WANT to know." There was a moment's silence. "I'm sorry," Jesse said, and he even sounded sorry. "But we're not in a position to take any chances. The cops might not make you talk. But we know some people who would." "But I'm not a...I can't..." Julian started. Then he looked down to see Mel's hands. He had a solid gold ring on just like Jesse's and he was already twisting it around in the same manner that Jesse had when he transformed Clemson in the dining room. Julian looked up and found himself staring into Mel's eyes, which he noticed for the first time to be a deep blue. The air began to grow dense, and it became difficult to breathe. As he looked in Mel's eyes, he found he had the strangest thoughts: Who is this man? He seems so very... powerful. He's not like any man I've seen before. An image of Mel crashed into his head. Mel had his shirt off and was flexing his muscles. He seemed so tall, taller even than he really was. This is a man, Julian thought. This is a real man. And who am I? Who am I to a man like this? A quick warm rush came over Julian, and it felt so good that he almost forgot to resist. No, he thought, as another image entered his head. It was the image of a gorgeous woman with a lithe body and large tits. It was the woman he could be, he thought, if he only let it. And why not? What was wrong with being a beautiful woman? What was wrong with serving a man such a Mel, someone who so obviously deserved to be served? And then there was a loud BANG! It was like thunder or the roof caving in. Angry voices were everywhere. Someone screamed. Julian opened his eyes (he hadn't realized that he had shut them) and found himself on the living room floor looking up at the two ceiling fans far above him. The noises came in clearer now and he looked around. The screaming was coming from Veronica, but then she abruptly stopped. Across the room, Jesse and Mel stood as if ready for combat. Their arms were out. Their jaws were set. To his surprise, they weren't paying any attention to him. They were looking across the room at something else. Julian stumbled to his feet and looked. A half dozen men, all dressed in suits, had entered the living room. The front door was open and appeared to have been broken on one of its hinges. All at once, Julian remembered what had been happening just before he lost consciousness and he looked down at himself. But there were no breasts hanging from his chest and his clothes were fitting fine. Just to make sure, he grabbed his crotch. Everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be. "Give it up, fellas," one of the men at the door called to Jesse and Mel. He, like all the other men, had their hands thrust forward. On each right hand was a golden ring. "You're outnumbered and there are more of us outside. If you go quietly, you'll be given a trial and perhaps mercy." "Mercy?" Jesse sniffed. And then he laughed. It was an angry, hopeless laugh. He fingered his ring. "None of you believe in mercy." "Don't be stupid, Jesse," another man said. Jesse and Mel glanced at each other, and then, in unison, they raised their rings to the men at the door. The next second Julian felt the same thickness in the air that he had felt before when Jesse and Mel had used their rings. Only now that thickness seemed worse than ever. He almost imagined he could taste an electrical current in the air and see the lights dim for a moment. Some of the men at the door began to tense up noticeably, as if fighting off a convulsion of some kind. Then he noticed that Jesse and Mel were also tensing up. A voice inside Julian's head told him to run while he had the chance. These new men didn't look any better than Jesse or Mel. But he was frozen stiff. It wasn't just that he was scared. He found he couldn't turn away. He had to watch. The struggle between the men went on for over a minute, every second of which seemed like it must be agony for them. Then four of the figures suddenly collapsed almost at exactly the same time: Jesse, Mel, and two of the men at the door. The first person to make a move was Sally. Julian saw her sprint over to where Jesse and Mel had fallen and examine them closely. She was still naked, still sweaty, and her face was still dripping with pussy juice and cum. At first, she had only a look full of quiet fear and amazement. And then, almost as if she had a case of hiccups that she was trying to suppress, she began to smile and giggle, pointing at what had become of Jesse and Mel. CHAPTER TWO: PRIVATE EYES WEDNESDAY, JULY 18TH "Good morning, Miss Somerset," Jack said, rising from his desk and extending his hand. "Good morning, Detective Appelton," Gwendolyn Somerset replied dryly. She was the most professional client Jack ever had. Straight, no nonsense type. No time for chit chat or even ordinary politeness if it seemed too shammed or too bothersome. She was also as beautiful of a client as Jack had ever had. Slim, tall, and with a practiced grace in her style, from the way she walked to the way she smoked. "I'm just a private eye," Jack corrected her gently and gestured for her to sit in a chair in front of his desk. "So I'm just MISTER Appelton. But, as I said at our first meeting, you can call me Jack." "I remember, Mr. Appelton," she said curtly. "I prefer not to use first names. What have you found out about Arnold Clemson?" "Well, as far as my partner and I can tell, he seems to be dead, Miss Somerset. I've looked at the police report, the autopsy, and I even talked to a friend down at the morgue. Everything checks out. The toxology report says he must have been very drunk at the time of the accident. Unless there's a great conspiracy going on here, I would say Mr. Clemson died just as reported." She cocked an eyebrow slightly as this last statement. "How were they able to identify the body?" "They weren't able to very well," Jack answered. "Not really. But it seems clear it was him. Same size, same build. After the car went off the bridge it, well, it burst into flames. There wasn't much to go on. But there were at least three people who saw him get into the car less than an hour before the accident." "And what have you found out about his new wife? This Veronica creature?" "Not very much, I'm afraid," Jack said. "She's young. Graduated high school a few years back. No record. She met Mr. Clemson at a party a year ago." "And have you followed her like I asked?" "My partner has, and that's one place the story gets a little shifty." Miss Somerset gave no expression. She waited patiently. "She stays in her house all day. She doesn't go anywhere. Her maid comes and goes." Jack opened a filed and glanced at it. "A Miss Madeline Reynolds. That's the maid. She leaves and comes back, but that's it. Perhaps that's normal. Mrs. Clemson is a grieving widow. Who says she should go out at all, right? But then the day before yesterday, when she finally left the house, she went to the last place you'd expect her to go." "Where's that?" Miss Somerset asked. "A strip joint," Jack said. Feeling this was too casual of a term, he added, "a gentlemen's club, if you like." "What is the name of the place?" "The Alpha Club," Jack said, with some embarrassment. "It's out near the desert." "What did she do there?" "I don't know. She went in, and a few hours later she came back out and came home. We couldn't follow her in. Or, I should say that my partner, Sam, couldn't follow her in. He was the one following her. But he tried to get in and they told him they had a $250 cover charge." Miss Somerset's face squinted a little and Jack could tell he had displeased her. "Why didn't you go in, Mr. Appleton? What's the point of you following if you won't go in?" "Well, as I said. It wasn't me who followed her. It was Sam, my partner. But he couldn't go in. We can't afford that." Miss Somerset fumed but controlled herself. "Mr. Appleton," she said. "You have been a very competent investigator so far, but in this you have erred. I am more than willing to pay the expenses needed to get to the bottom of this. I would gladly pay for both you and your partner to return to this... club, and then continue your investigation." "Alright," Jack said, trying to sound a little hurt for her sake. "That changes things. We'll head over this afternoon. Can I ask you a few more questions, though?" "Of course." "Well, I don't know how to ask this delicately, ma'am," he started. "You say that you have a strong suspicion that Arnold Clemson was murdered or that there is some foul play going on here. You obviously suspect his wife, Veronica, of something. But can you tell me why you think this? What do you know that the police don't?" Miss Somerset considered Jack's questions silently for a moment. "Arnold Clemson was my husband," she finally said. "My ex-husband, that is. We divorced two and a half years ago. You probably figured that much out already, right?" "Yes," Jack said. "I found that out." "I know Arnold," she continued. "I lived with him for quite a while. None of what has happened makes sense to me. Arnold didn't like to drive at night, especially alone. He preferred to be driven. And he certainly didn't drive drunk. Why would he be all the way out in the country like that? Then there's his wife. And his will." "His will?" "Arnold left everything to Veronica." "And you find this suspicious?" asked Jack. "That's most suspicious of all," she answered. "And most important to me, you can imagine. Arnold promised me a share of his business. He even showed me his will. I was to get 20%. But this new will leaves me out altogether. It leaves out ALL of Arnold's old friends. Arnold was a lot of bad things. But he wasn't like that. He certainly wouldn't have given over his whole goddamn multi-million dollar business, one he spent decades putting together, to a girl two years out of high school." "Three years," Jack corrected. Miss. Somerset's darting look made he regret saying it instantly. "I don't know what happened, Mr. Appleton," she said. "But it's odd. It's downright shady. And the shadiest part is this Veronica girl." "We'll get right on it, Miss Somerset." ++++++++++ And so that afternoon, Jack and his partner Sam were on their way to the Alpha Club, a fifty minute drive that gave them a chance to talk things over. Jack agreed with Gwendolyn Somerset that something strange was afoot, but Sam was unconvinced. "Why is it so surprising he left everything to Veronica?" he asked as they pulled onto the highway. "You've seen her. She's young, she's blonde, she's gorgeous. Lots of guys would gladly give it all away for tail like that." "But Somerset made it pretty clear that Clemson wasn't like that," Jack replied. "He was too much of a businessman to throw it all at some girl." "Miss Somerset's biased," Sam said. "She wants a big piece of a very big pie, and she's willing to see things the way she wants to get that piece. Why shouldn't he have changed his will? What would have prevented him? Why shouldn't he have gotten in the car that night? There were three witnesses that saw him get in?" "And two of those witnesses are gone," Jack said. "We can't find them anywhere. The only other witness is Veronica herself. And she's been acting very peculiar. She went to the Alpha Club again last time, you know. That's twice she's been to this strip club. Why would a millionaire girl like her go to a sleazy place like that at all, let alone twice in two days?" "At $250 a head, it's pretty high-class sleaze," Sam retorted. "I doubt we find anything. But at the very least we'll get a chance to look around the club. Could be fun." Jack smiled. "Yeah, I was thinking that too." The Alpha Club was exclusive in many ways, not the least of which was its location. Jack had lived in the area all of his life, had been a private eye scouring Los Angeles for a dozen years, but had never seen nor heard of the place. But why would he? It took several turns off the main highway to find it, and even then it was hidden away between hills in a half-desert of sand and weeds. Neither was it on any commercial listings that Jack could find. No ads. Private listing. Private drive. The Alpha Club was meant only to be found by those who already knew where it was. Even with the cash for the cover charge, Jack wasn't sure they were going to get in. As they drove up to the club, they saw a familiar car in the parking lot. Fred, one of their temps who had been watching Veronica Clemson, was standing outside of it smoking a cigarette. When he saw them, he stomped it out and approached Jack's window. "She's in there," Fred told them. "Less than an hour." "Thanks, Fred," Jack said. "Go ahead and head home. We'll take it from here." Jack parked the car, a smart aleck frown on his face. "What'd I tell you? Strange, strange, strange." They walked to the front door, which was an nondescript as everything else about the place. It held a small sign on it that simply said "Alpha Club" in black letters. To the side was an insignia of some kind. It looked like a ring with a crown on top. Jack opened the door. Instantly a gush of cool air and music came out and, a half of a second later, the bouncer was blocking the way. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said. He was a hulk of a man, with clear black eyes that could evaluate a situation quickly and efficiently. "Do you have an invitation or will you be paying the cover charge?" "We'll pay the cover, I guess," Jack said. "Unless you want to invite us." The bouncer laughed, or pretended to. "Two hundred and fifty a piece," he said flatly. Jack pulled out the roll of cash he had brought and tried to look like he was used to shelling out that kind of money as he paid for them both. He and Sam had worn their best suits for the job, knowing that looking the part of someone who could come to the Alpha Club was as important as the money itself. The bouncer took the cash and let them inside without another word. They followed the corridor down a few paces then came to a black curtain, which they walked through to the main parlor. Jack's first impression of the semi-lit club was that it was big, much bigger than what it seemed like on the outside. The main stage, a platform about a hundred feet long, reached from the far wall to the middle of the room. It had the usual dancing poles and lights on it, and there were several dancers going at once, each in various levels of undress. Tables were arranged around the stage and spread out to the four walls, where a series of private booths were set up. Some of the booths had open doors. Some had closed doors. "I guess I can see why guys would pay so much money," Sam said, looking around. Jack agreed. After taking in the grandness of the place, the next thing he noticed were the girls. They were of various kinds, from blonde to raven hair, from tall and elegant to petite and curvy, and every single one of them was stunning. Breathtaking, Jack thought, which wasn't a word he typically used, but here it felt appropriate. These girls made you breathe harder. They made your pulse quicken. And they were everywhere, not just up on the stage but serving drinks at the tables, coming in and out of the private booths, and making cocktails at the bar. Their plan had been to be as inconspicuous as possible, at least at the start. But now that they had made it inside, Jack realized that wasn't going to be easy. He felt like they stuck out here, like they didn't belong, and that it was only a matter of time before someone tapped them on the shoulder and told them to leave. Everything seemed top end stuff, from the furniture to the beer selection. The girls were otherworldly, like they should have been all Hollywood stars. Even the guys seemed to be on another level. Or most of them did. "What is this place?" Sam asked. Jack didn't answer. They found themselves staring at the stage, where the four strippers Jack had first noticed were not only dancing, but starting to kiss and fondle each other. After a few seconds, Jack glanced over at Sam and saw that he was completely transfixed by the sight, and it bothered him a little. The place was having an eerie effect on both of them. Jack led Sam over to the bar so they wouldn't be standing in the middle of the room gawking like a pair of bumpkins on their first trip into the city. "Let's start surveying the place now before we get kicked out of here," he said. "What's the rush?" Sam asked. His eyes never left the stage. The strippers had moved well past petting each other. Two of them were in a deep french kiss. The other two were licking each other's breasts lustfully. "If we don't stir up trouble, then maybe we can get the most for our cash." "Gwendolyn Somerset's cash," Jack said. "Remember, we've got a job to do." "I haven't forgotten. I just want a little fun." Jack forced himself to look away from the stage and into the crowd of tables. Somewhere in this building was Veronica Clemson. But where? He couldn't see her at any of the tables, but he supposed she could be in any of the private booths on the other side or even in a backroom. He asked himself again why she would be here and what she might be doing. A woman's voice from behind broke his train of thought: "What will it be, fellas?" They turned to see a buxom brunette watching them expectedly. She had a low cut blouse that ran all the way down to her navel, and when she bent over the bar to talk to them, Jack swore he could see even further. "Two old-fashioneds," Jack answered and watched the bartender turn around immediately to find the ingredients. Her heart-shaped bottom, clad in only the thinnest purple fabric, sashayed elegantly as she moved away. When she came back with the drinks a minute later, she asked if they needed anything else. "We are actually looking for someone. Veronica Clemson," Jack replied. "We don't keep track of names in here, mister," she answered quickly and mechanically, then gave him the slightest kissy face. "Maybe you could just tell me if you've seen her around," Jack smiled, flattered at the flirtation, but reminding himself that it was probably part of her job. He reached into his jacket and pulled out two large photographs. "This is her," he said, pointing to a photo of Veronica. "And this was her husband," he added, pointing to a photo of Arnold Clemson. "You guys cops?" she asked. "No, no," Jack said dismissively, as if the idea was silly. "Just curious." "You're in the wrong place for being curious," she said and walked away without another word. Jack was afraid she was going to the bouncer, but instead she just went to the next customer. "Jack," Sam whispered. "Do you see that waitress there? The redhead?" Jack turned to look back at the tables to see who Sam was talking about: a curvy redhead in a high heels and a black cocktail dress that was just long enough to be called one. She was serving a table of men only twenty feet away, taking their orders. And a few quick gropes on her behind. "What about her?" asked Jack. "She saw those pictures when you took them out, and she went completely pale for a second. Something spooked her badly." Jack could see now that she was acting a bit unnatural, and not just because the men at her table were starting to get lewd. When she snuck a quick, worried glance back at them, he knew she could tell them something them about Veronica. The look gave him a chill up his spine. Something about it told him that Gwendolyn Somerset might be right to be suspicious. And that this thing might be bigger than he had imagined. "Let's talk to her," Jack said. "Let's find out what she knows." When the girl saw them coming, she tried, nonchalantly, to make her way to the other end of the bar and avoid them. But they were making a beeline for her. Sam caught up with her first. "Excuse me, miss," he said, and though it was clear she wanted to keep on walking, she stopped as soon as he spoke. In one hand, she held a tray of empty glasses. She put the other hand to her skinny waist, as if trying to act casual. "Yes sir, what can I do you for you?" she asked pleasantly, though in a forced manner. "I was just wondering if you could answer a question or two for me," Sam said. "Have you ever heard of a Veronica Clemson. Or an Arnold Clemson." The girl's faced blanched. For a second Jack thought she might drop the tray of glasses. Then she swallowed hard and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't help you," she said, controlling herself. Jack and Sam exchanged a glance. Then Jack said, "What's your name, honey?" The girl opened her mouth to answer but then stopped, as if cut short. She shook her head. Jack decided to press with more questions, but he didn't get another chance. He was interrupted. "Jack Appleton," a voice said, one Jack recognized, and he turned to see Gabe Bellows walking slowly up to him from across the room. "Sergeant Bellows," Jack said, managing not to sneer. "Interesting to see you here. Sergeant Bellows, this is my partner Sam Winterson. Sam, meet Sergeant Bellows. We go way back." "I've heard a lot about you," Sam said, smiling, or pretending to. Bellows nodded, as if given a compliment, though he knew it wasn't meant that way. He and Jack had crossed paths many times on many cases. He was easily the dirtiest cop on the LAPD, and Jack knew plenty of bad cops. If there was a major drug deal happening, Bellows was in on it. He might even be a part of the muscle to make it happen. If there was a cover up, his fingerprints would be all over it, sometimes literally. His very presence at the Alpha Club confirmed that Jack should be investigating it. "Why don't you take a little break, Sally?" Bellows said to the redheaded girl condescendingly. "Maybe in the back. I think someone is there to see you anyway. And we men have something to talk about." The girl nodded, almost bowed, and then walked quickly away toward the end of the bar where she had been going when they stopped her. Jack saw her put her tray of glasses down and immediately head for a door in the back. "Would you please come this way," Bellows told them, pointing toward the private booths to the side. Jack looked over at Sam. He could tell his partner wanted to follow the girl, but what choice did they have? It wasn't worth angering Bellows, who not only could make their lives unpleasant in numerous ways through the police department, but might have the power to get them kicked out of the Alpha Club. Besides, Jack wanted to know if he was going to say anything useful. He gave the sign to Sam to stay quiet. The booth was a big room, bigger than it looked from the outside, containing a short but wide lounge table in the middle and long, soft sofa seats all around. A tall man with carefully cropped black hair sat in one corner, his expensive tie slightly loosened and his cigar burned halfway down. He was talking to three girls, one next to him and two across. Grinning, Bellows brought Jack and Sam in. "Hello, gentlemen," the man with the cigar greeted. His tone was polite but he did not get up from his seat nor extend his hand. "I see you've discovered our private little paradise. Have a seat. Would you let us have a word, Sergeant Bellows?" A look of annoyance crossed Bellows face at being asked to leave, but he gave no protest. Instead, he grinned again at Jack and Sam, and then backed out of the room. "Please have a seat," the man repeated, gesturing to the sofas opposite him. Jack was about to protest and insist on standing, but the man's tone made him reconsider. He wasn't someone who seemed as if he was contradicted much, and his request sounded much more like a demand. After a pause, Jack sat down next to one of the girls, a blonde in a tight red dress and matching fingernail polish. Sam sat next to the other girl, a petite brunette with big, doe-like eyes. Each of the girls, without prompting and without a word, nestled up to Jack and Sam and began caressing them lightly. They were like dogs that jump into a visitor's lap expecting to get petted. "You're fucking cute," the blonde said to Jack. Jack and Sam were so distracted by the girls and the cigar smoke that neither of them noticed who the third woman was until she was introduced to them. "Mr. Appleton, Mr. Winterson," the man with the cigar smiled. "My name is Anthony Locke. I believe you know Mrs. Veronica Clemson already." Jack's eyes widened and Sam's body made perceptible jolt. There she was, the girl from the picture. The girl they had been staking out and following. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Locke," Jack managed to say, then turned to Veronica. "And you too Mrs. Clemson." He was finding it difficult to concentrate. He seemed to be under the influence of two powerful forces at the same time, the commanding voice of Anthony Locke and a growing lust for the blonde next to him. "Can I suck your cock?" she whispered to him, as if reading his mind. "Miss....?" he started to ask her. "I'm sorry," Anthony said mockingly. "I haven't introduced you two to your dates. Jack Appelton, meet Jessica. Sam Winterson, meet Mel...anie." He paused, as if thinking it over. "...Melanie. Jessica and Melanie are previous associates of mine, you might say, who have come to work at the Alpha Club on my recommendation. I think you'll get along with them well." Jack nodded, but found nothing to say. It felt absurd to have this stranger, Jessica, making advances on him like this, but it also felt really good. He didn't want it to stop. "What brings you all the way out here this afternoon?" Anthony asked. "Business," Jack said tersely as Jessica ran her slender hand up his thigh. He glanced over at Sam, who was being given the same attention by the brunette, Melanie. Why couldn't he just fend her off, he thought? Was he that much of a pussyhound that he couldn't stay on task? "Business?" Anthony said with some disappointment. His voice deepened, and Jack detected a trace of a foreign accent in it. "Please elaborate. What kind of business?" "I'd rather not say too much about that," Jack answered. "We work for a client who does not want to be named, but who has hired us to find information for them." "Information about me?" Veronica asked, speaking for the first time. "Among other things," Jack answered. It was no use lying about that, he thought. They seemed to know already. "And what have you found out?" Anthony inquired. "I'm really not at liberty to talk about..." "Stop," Anthony ordered suddenly, and though he didn't yell the word, it felt somehow like he had shouted it at the top of his lungs. Jack sat stunned. Even Jessica and Melanie stopped pawing him and Sam for a moment. "Who are you working for?" Anthony asked directly and commandingly. Jack clamped his mouth shut, but it was though he was being drugged or tortured. His body and his mind were trying to rebel against him. Something about Anthony's voice, or something about his presence, seemed to be pulling at him, making him want to answer his question. "Gwendolyn Somerset," Sam suddenly blurted out, as if he had been fighting that same pull. Jack glared at him angrily, but he knew he had been on the verge of doing the same thing. Veronica laughed. "Gwen? These guys were sent by Gwen?" Anthony smiled. "That was Mr. Clemson's first wife, correct?" he asked. "What a bitch," Veronica spat with both bitterness and humor. It was the sound of vengeance in her voice. The girls, apparently sensing that things had returned to normal, began caressing Jack and Sam again. Jessica was even starting to nibble on Jack's ear. Trying to break the trance he was falling under, Jack decided to take the offensive. "We are only trying to establish a few facts and get matters settled properly," he said as professionally as he could. "Would you mind, Mrs. Clemson, if we asked you a few..." Jack stopped to catch his breath. Jessica had forced his attention by grabbing his crotch and rubbing the hard-on she found in it. Then there was a quick moan from Jack's side and he could see in his periphery that Melanie was now face forward in Sam's lap. They were kissing each other deeply. A moment later, Jessica's mouth was on his. "They're just irresistible creatures, aren't they?" Anthony asked. But he didn't expect an answer. Jack's lust hit critical mass as Jessica's tongue danced with his. Her tits spilled out of the top of her red top now and pressed hard against his chest, and he found that his hands had found their way to the curves of her ass. Her body seemed electrifying. "Fuck me," she breathed. "Fuck me now!" Within a few quick seconds, Jack had Jessica laid out on the couch, her dress up and her panties off. He heard Veronica catcall and Anthony joke from the other side of the room, but he didn't care. Jessica was like a drug. He had never felt so much sexual energy before. "Don't mind us, gentlemen," Anthony laughed. Jack could hear panting from Sam and Melanie, but he didn't look over. He was too busy releasing his cock from his trousers. In an instant, it found Jessica's warm, welcoming pussy, which seemed almost to draw in it with its own force. Nothing mattered now. His senses were overwhelmed with the feeling of Jessica's body underneath him, the smell of her perfume, and the sound of her voice as she told him again and again to "shove it" into her. "I'm a girl! I'm a girl!" she squealed. "Your cock feels so good inside of me. Ohhhhh, please make me cum. Please...Please! Make me your girl!!.....ohhhhhhh