checked in only every couple of hours instead of every few minutes.
Not that the Congressman or his staff were having anything to do
with Clover, and the lobbyist had in turn given up on trying to con-
tact them. The follow-up stories in
The Post
and then other papers
continued to unravel the man’s dastardly dealings, airing all kinds
of dirty laundry for the world to see. After a few days of constantly
sending out e-mails and calls asking for help, Clover had left the city
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151
for points unknown, leaving his phone off and not using any of the
company machines or e-mail accounts. Paul assumed that he’d figured
out that somehow he’d been hacked, which wasn’t unexpected. Once
he discovered the bank losses and checks it would be the only logical
conclusion.
Reading the Congressman’s e-mails remained interesting, although
there were so many of them, especially from Danny, that he usually
only skimmed through them looking for anything relevant. There were
a few early on from other lobbyists who were trying to get Wolverton
to back off his support of the new task force funding, but the last thing
an embattled elected official wanted in this climate was to be branded
a flip flopper by his opponents. Since internal polling (which Paul got
to see when Danny forwarded it to another aide) showed strong sup-
port in the home district for the tough enforcement stance, there was
no way he was backing away from it. Paul felt a twinge of guilt that
they’d effectively given the Republican a winning re-election issue, but
the trade-off was worth it.
Their home by the cemetery looked just like they’d left it—boarded up
and locked tight as if another hurricane might come barreling through
any minute. Just undoing all the locks and seals on the front door took
five minutes and opening all the windows took an hour (which was vital
considering how stuffy six weeks being locked up had left the place).
Sandee gave Sacco the grand tour while Bee went up into her top floor
lair and started firing up their island-wide network of cameras and
RFID scanners. By evening Chloe and Paul had restocked the kitchen
with food and booze and the whole place was up and running at full
capacity. For the first time in months Paul felt calm and safe and relaxed
at the same time.
The next night they took Sacco to his first Party. Before they’d
embarked on the DC job, The Party had been a 24/7 money-maker for
them, but once they’d moved their focus to bigger things, they’d had
to cut back to just special occasions, maybe a few times a month. In
truth that had been for the better, as the upkeep on a constantly moving
24-hour underground party was pretty high. Now that the events were
rarer, it was easier to fill them up with people willing to drop a lot of
money and have a crazy good time for a day or two straight. Paul hadn’t
given much thought to when the next Party would be, but Sandee had
apparently given it a lot of thought since he’d been quietly organizing
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an event for the past week or so. This was Sandee’s domain in any case,
so if Paul had thought of it he probably would’ve just asked San to take
care of it anyway, but it was a nice surprise to have a real live Key West
style bacchanal to celebrate their success.
“This is an empty house?” Sacco asked as they walked up to the front
door. “Not what I think of when I think of a squat.”
“It is not in any way, shape, or form a squat,” said Sandee. He was
dressed in full regalia—a tight, black micro-dress, five-inch heels, and
a lustrous red auburn wig. “This is a classic Key West home that’s lan-
guishing in legal limbo, a fine stately home that’s proud to play host to
some serious enjoyment in these otherwise sad, recession ridden days
and nights.”
“OK, OK, I stand corrected.”
“You can stand, sit, or lie corrected as long as you’re having fun,” said
Sandee, winking at him. “And if anyone asks, tell them you’re with me
and they’ll treat you more than right.”
Sacco smiled and nodded, eyes alight with anticipation. Paul glanced
over at Chloe and squeezed her hand as they exchanged knowing
glances. She was nearly as dressed up as Sandee, wearing black vinyl
pants and red and black corset top, along with a platinum blond page-
boy cut wig. Paul, who felt reliably ridiculous in anything too costumey,
had opted for loose linen pants and a black silk t-shirt. They’d tried to
get Bee to come along too, and Sandee almost had her convinced when
c1sman called and she decided she’d rather chat with him than come
to The Party. She said she’d be watching them on the cameras though,
so she’d be there in spirit.
Inside the eighty-year old Victorian style house on the edge of Key
West’s Old Town, The Party was well under way. Sandee served as host-
ess and tour guide for Sacco, and Paul and Chloe tagged along to see
the sights. The large living room area at the front of the house was the
dance floor, with Jaimie spinning records at one end and their old friend
and pot dealer Bert at the other. There were about a dozen people in
there, a mixture of genders and backgrounds, the music thumping loud
enough to make casual conversation impossible. In the dining room/
kitchen area was a sort of lounge space, with pillows and rugs artfully
cast about the floor, a four-person hookah in one corner and a video
screen with a console and rock band-style simulator set up. The adjacent
kitchen had booze, beer, and food for sale with one of Jaimie’s friends as
bartender. The former rear porch had been enclosed to make a Florida
room, where two tables hosted a large-stakes poker game that showed
every sign of having been going on for hours upon hours. Upstairs the
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153
bedrooms had been converted into more private lounges, each with its
own compliment of cushions, carpets, and condoms along with sound
and video equipment. Three of the four rooms were occupied by small
clusters of people, some simply lounging and drinking, one group sing-
ing topless karaoke, and one with two couples engaged in some rather
vigorous public sex while a well dressed woman in her 50s wearing an
evening gown videoed them.
They ended their circuit tour back in the downstairs lounge area
where Sandee produced a bottle of champagne and four glasses. They
drank the whole bottle, before Sandee dragged them on the dance floor
for an hour of grinding, gyrating, and sweaty shaking. Hot, tired, and
damp, they retired upstairs, commandeering a room along with two
more bottles. They lounged in the room, reliving their recent triumphs
in exaggerated details and working half a bottle of vodka in the process.
They laughed and giggled at the cries of excitement and the cracking of
a whip from across the hall, then laughed some more as Sandee sang a
surprisingly sexy version of Ina Gada Da Vida on the karaoke machine.
OK, maybe not sexy, but his movements, mostly directed at Sacco,
were definitely sexual. Paul wasn’t the only one in the room turned on.
He could already see where this was going, and went downstairs just
long enough to get some more ice and some treats from Bert. When he
returned Chloe and Sandee were singing “I Touch Myself” as a duet,
and Sacco had the stupidest grin on his face that Paul had ever seen.
After the song ended and the ensuing giggle bout ended in a group
collapse to the floor, Chloe took Paul in her arms and kissed him while
Sandee sat straddling Sacco next to them.
“I sometimes forget you’re not a woman.”
“Sometimes I am a woman.”
“Oh, Jesus, that feels good.”
“Let’s give the little man some room to breathe…”
“Oh yeah… do you mind if I…”
“Why else would I be wearing a skirt this short? Please.”
“Sandee, you’ve got an amazing ass. I wish I had your ass.”
“And I wish I could have breasts like yours, honey.”
“These old things? Hey that’s my nipple you’re licking mister.”
“What’re boyfriends for?”
“Oh, fuck.”
“My, my, this is nice and hefty. You don’t mind do you?”
“Not if you don’t mind this…”
“Not at all, honey, not at all. Now can you still reach if I’m down
here?”
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“Oh. OK, yeah, that works.”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Oh”
“These vinyl pants are too tight.”
“You’re just not trying hard enough. There, that’s better.”
“Free at last.”
“Now you’re the only one left. Strip on off sailor…”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Oh. Oh. Wait, I’m going to…”
“Not yet you’re not honey.”
“You’re amazing.”
“Why don’t I slip these off and see how you are.”
“I’ve never…”
“But you want to. It’s easy. Just do what I do.”
“Oh…oh! OK.”
“Now you try. Take it out for me.”
“I didn’t think it would be that smooth and soft. And hard.”
“Just like yours.”
“So I just… mmp!”
“Just like that.”
“Watching them makes you so…”
“And you, too.”
“Oh, shit yeah.”
“Roll over. Can you still see?”
“Oh yes.”
“And now?”
“Uh… uh…”
“Are you watching?”
“Uh… yeah…”
“That’s it, baby. You’re so sweet honey, so sweet.”
“Mmm… ahh… wow, that’s wild. I never…”
“Don’t stop now, you’re a quick little student.”
“Yes ma’am. Sir.”
“Whichever you desire.”
“Oh fuck!”
“Oh damn, baby, oh damn.”
“Come on. Up on your knees.”
“You first…”
“Yeah, like that. Yeah… like… ahhhh.”
“I think we’re inspiring them now.”
“Why’re you stopping me?”
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155
“Oh it’s great, honey, you’re doing great… but isn’t this what you
really want.”
“My God, yes.”
“Come on then. Slip one on and slip in.”
“You guys are awesome.”
“Fuck him, Sacco, come on…”
“Oh baby, you’ve got such a filthy mouth.”
“You fuckin’ love it.”
“That’s it… easy… ohhhhh shit…”
“Oh fuck. Uh. Uh.”
“Slowly now… that’s it.”
“Jesus, look at them…”
“Now reach around and…”
“Don’t fucking stop now…”
“That’s it…”
“Jesus!”
“Fuck!”
“Omigod, yes!”
“…”
“Uh…”
“Mmm…”
“Wuh… wuh..eh,eh… wuh… wuh. Oh!
“Ahhh…”
“Ohhh yeah…”
“Not yet… not yet… ok now! Now!”
“Like… ?”
“Yeah!”
“…”
“…”
“…”
“Holy shit.”
Paul came, too, with the something vibrating under his ass. He assumed
at first it was a vibrator from the night before. There had been a couple
of them floating around. It was only as he began to shake off sleep and
look around that he became aware that he was lying nude on top of his
pants, Chloe’s legs draped across his stomach as she slept perpendicular
to him, also nude. He could hear Sacco snoring on the other side of the
room, and when he sat up he saw that the guy was curled up around a
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big pillow. Sandee was nowhere to be seen, which meant it was probably
pretty late in the morning. No matter how late the partying went, he
was always up early to do yoga.
The phone had stopped buzzing for at least a minute before Paul
was awake enough to extract himself from under Chloe’s legs without
waking her up and then extract the phone from his pants pocket. He’d
missed a call from someone anonymous, probably Bee since everyone
else but Sandee who knew the number was in the room with him. There
was also a text message with a link to a web site. He followed the link
to a blog called Thoughtful Insouciance which rang some bells. It was
a simple blog, nothing special. Just some guy’s rantings. Not just some
guy though, it was Oliver. And he wasn’t just ranting, he was ranting
about Shmoocon. And he wasn’t just ranting about Shmoocon, he was
ranting about a con woman named Toni and how she was probably
connected to another con man who tried to steal money from a bunch
of Republican fundraisers a couple years ago in Los Gatos, California.
He was ranting about Paul Reynolds.
Paul seemed to take his second outing as a criminal much better than
he had the first occasion. No panic attack, no vomiting. No first
thing in the morning sex like she’d been drowsily contemplating when
his phone started buzzing, but that was OK. She wasn’t that horny
anymore either. While she re-read the blog post on his phone, Paul
had already gone over it two curse-filled times, he was getting dressed
and trying to wake up Sacco. The thing that bothered Chloe almost as
much as the actual crisis at hand was the fact that Oliver was obviously
so damn smart. They knew that of course—that’s why they’d tried to
recruit him—but for him to take just a few small data points and do
all that research and then weave them together into what she hoped
sounded to most people like a crazy conspiracy theory but was in fact