The XXX Files Season Two (Episodes 5-8) (11 page)

Maybe she’s right about the meetings?
 

The hotel phone’s shrill ring tore through the room’s silence, yanking Brad from his daze. He dropped the menu in his lap and scrambled to answer the phone, which was fortunately on his side of the bed. Courtney was just comatose enough to sleep through both rings before Brad could finally grab it.
 

“Hello,” he growled in a whisper.
 

“Mr. Hammer?”
 

“Yes,” Brad whispered, slightly louder, “what?”
 

“This is Regina, downstairs at the front desk. Sorry to disturb you so early,” the semi-sexy voice said, though it wasn’t especially early. “But we have a message for you here at the desk, if you’d like to come downstairs and get it.”
 

Still whisper growling, Brad said, “Can’t you just read it to me over the phone?”
 

“Sorry, Mr. Hammer, but no, I can’t do that. The message is in a sealed envelope and says ‘For Your Eyes Only’ across the front.”

For my eyes only? Who in the hell even knows I’m in Florida?

“OK,” Brad said. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

He hung up the phone just as Courtney barked out a shockingly loud snore — just long, broken and cracked enough to send him into a laugh. His girl was OUT.
 

Brad pulled on his pants and, still hard, pulled his dick up and tucked it into the top behind his waistband, then pulled on his undershirt, slipped on his shoes without any socks, grabbed his key card, and headed out of the room and over to the elevator.
 

He rode down to the lobby, his hard-on keeping him uncomfortable, then crossed the lobby floor to the front desk. He spotted Regina, and was thankful she only looked about 15 percent as sexy as she sounded since he really couldn’t take any more morning throbbing, and wouldn’t want to obligate Courtney to anything when she was just waking up and they had a plane to catch.
 

“Hi, Regina,” Brad said as he approached the counter. “I’m Brad Hammer. You just called?”
 

“Of course, Mr. Hammer,” she said, then turned, grabbed an envelope from behind her, and handed it to Brad.
 

He smiled, said thanks, then tore into the envelope and pulled out the note. It said, “Room 212. Come alone.”

What the fuck?
 

Brad’s heart sped to racing as he nearly sprinted toward the elevator, then stepped inside and rode the box to the second floor.
 

At least my dick isn’t killing me.
 

Brad had lost his hard-on, and couldn’t be happier since the last thing he wanted was to be sporting a raging erection when he had to deal with whatever was waiting in Room 212.
 

He stood outside, paused , wondering if he should go upstairs, wake Courtney, and bring her back down to the second floor with him. He swallowed, then softly rapped his knuckles on the door instead.
 

The door parted to something Brad had thought of nearly every hour of every day for a year.
 

Willow Monroe stood in the doorway looking like the goddess she was. “Hello, Brad.”

His hard-on was back, and throbbing.
 

TO BE CONTINUED ...

EPISODE 7

CHAPTER 1 — Brad Hammer

Brad stared at Willow, trying to swallow his shock, and having about as much luck as he was in keeping the blood from thickening his dick. It grew fatter and fatter, thickening alongside his confusion.
 

“What are you doing here?”
 

Willow didn’t answer, just stared at Brad instead, standing in the doorway looking like the living, breathing fantasy she was. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders, slightly longer than when last he saw her, her skin still creamy porcelain and bright eyes still burning with lust. Her tits were as round and plump and perfect as Brad remembered, pushing up against her gauzy thin top, displaying her matching bullet nipples as they nuzzled up against the fabric.
 

Willow wore a thin blouse and a short, flowing skirt, but she may as well have been wearing trashy lingerie. She could have been wearing nothing at all. Brad’s hard-on had gone from throbbing to painful in seconds. It was pushing so hard against his pants it was almost like an arrow pointing at Willow. It was impossible for her not to see it, though, of course, even if she couldn’t, she had to know it was there. They were both prisoners of the Breath, too in tune with one another for each not to smell the other’s arousal.
 

Brad closed his eyes to escape the vision before him, but his world turned worse behind the black of his lids, where he suffered the slings and arrows of his filthiest thoughts, flying at him, one after the other, demanding that he do something about it, rather than simply swaying on his feet like a leaf in the wind.
 

He tried pushing the thoughts from his mind, to bury them as deeply as they would go so he could butter his brain with thoughts of Courtney instead. But it was futile. In his mind, Willow laughed, and turned Courtney to a crumble of thought that disappeared in the winds of a stronger desire.
 

Still in his mind, Brad saw Willow on her knees, eagerly swallowing his cock as her full lips slid along the length, humming as she went. Then he saw her crawling across the hotel carpet on her knees, lifting her ass high in the air so he could see both of her open, exposed holes. He saw her climb up and into an overstuffed chair in the corner, splaying a single leg on either side then digging into the wet depths of her middle, glazing fingers with her juices, then sucking each of her digits in turn before curling her pointer toward him, and inviting Brad to bury his face where it mattered.
 

He opened his eyes hoping to escape the beautiful filth. Willow was standing three feet away, breathing heavy and looking beautiful. He could smell her cunt and practically feel it wrapping his cock and then tightening around it. Brad swallowed, believing he had the strength to resist her. He didn’t want to flirt or smile or do anything but figure out what in the fuck she was doing in Florida, and what in the hell she wanted with him, then getting back up to Courtney before he did something he might regret.
 

Who cares about the plane — Courtney will fuck me like I need.
 

Though Willow was silent out loud, she spoke in her head, in a magical whisper like always.
 

It’s OK, Brad, don’t you know we’re meant for each other.?
 

Brad didn’t know if it was really Willow or only an echo of his imagination. Either way, the voice was convincing.
 

You can take me now, you know. I’m yours. Once you claim me you can do whatever you want.
 

Her breath blew heavy in his mind ...

I think about you every day, Brad Hammer, just like you think about me. There’s no use pretending you don’t.
 

Brad took a giant step back, wanting to make it to the other side of the threshold, where he was sure he would find his power, shoving thoughts of Willow to the back of his mind along the way, and pulling images of Courtney to the front, replacing Willow with Courtney on her knees, wrapping her lips tightly around his tip as he blasted, flooding her gullet with cum.

Brad remembered the reality of their previous evening, when Courtney
did
crawl across the carpet on her knees, lifting her ass high in the air so Brad could see both of her open, exposed holes before she said, “You’ve had my cunt, Agent Hammer, now are you going to fuck my ass?”
 

Finally and most important of all, Brad imagined Courtney, his one, true love rather than the one, true lust of Willow Monroe, lying beside him in bed as they slept together in harmony.
 

I can’t risk this.
 

“I can’t,” Brad said, shaking his head as he took another step back, now just inches from the door.
 

“Relax,” Willow half-laughed, even though he could smell how much she wanted him to fuck her. “I’m not here to steal you from your lover girl. I’m here to help you. I’ve got a tip and know why your investigation’s been shut down.”

“Which investigation?” Brad said, trying not to stutter through his confusion, but wondering how Willow could know anything about his investigations, let alone have sources inside Division 69. “I thought you were underground, you know, deep in hiding, avoiding contact with everyone you know.”

“I said I’d leave you alone, Brad. But that doesn’t mean I’m finished with Helix. Those fuckers turned me into this. And they’re gonna pay.”

“So what does this have to do with me? Why are you here in my hotel?”

“Because,” she smiled like a siren. “The old folks’ home you were working, the case that got yanked from under your feet, well, that order to ditch the evidence you found in Shady Palms came from above. Above your boss, and above his. This directive comes all the way from the top.”
 

“What in the hell are you talking about, Willow?” Brad asked, forgetting the door behind him.

“The ‘On Golden Pond’ orgy — that was no accident.”

“How could you possibly know that? Isn’t it more likely you saw the video on YouTube like a million other assholes, figured that was a case for Division 69, and that you might be able to find me here?”
 

“Maybe,” Willow said. “But NO. If I want to find you, Brad Hammer, all I have to do is close my eyes. The truth is, I’m here to help you. Cooper was ordered to close this one down, which is why you were ordered to forget everything you know and get back to Division ASAP.”
 

“Why?”
 

“Because the chemical used to spike the drinks was a proprietary drug made by none other than Helix Pharmaceuticals and Advancements — the same assholes responsible for Red Breath and turning us into what we are.”

“How could you possibly know that?”
 

Willow ran a finger across her left nipple, turning it from a rubber eraser into a high caliber bullet beneath her nearly see-through blouse. “A source,” she whispered. “That’s all I can say.”

Brad ignored her teasing, even though his dick refused to show the same dignity. He said, “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Helix want to dose a bunch of old people all the way in a retirement village in Florida? What could they possibly have to gain? This seems more like a prank than widespread industrial experimentation.”
 

“I know
what
, not
why
. Maybe they were unwitting test subjects?”

Brad shook his head. “I don’t buy it. I can’t see Helix picking test subjects so open, out in public view. The videos are bigger than ‘Gangnam Style,’ for fuck’s sake.”

“Hey, I’m not the agent, that’s you. I’m just giving you a heads-up and trying to help you out.”

“Why?”
 

Willow cooed, “The same reason you would help me out if you could?” then took a step toward him.

Brad wanted to take another step back but stayed rooted to the floor instead, holding his hands in front of him, palms flat and facing Willow. His cock was back to throbbing, so hard it was painful.

“I can’t do this,” he said.
 

Cheating on Courtney with the coed was wrong, same as cheating on her with Starla, but both put together and multiplied by 10, might be a hundredth of how horrible things would be if he cheated on her with Willow Monroe.
 

“And why not?” she purred. “Aren’t you nursing some antiquated notions on commitment and love?”
 

“What the hell do you mean? And NO, of course not. Love isn’t ever antique, Willow. It’s timeless. Besides, I thought you weren’t here to ‘steal me from my lover girl’.”
 

“I’m not,” Willow laughed. “You can go straight back to Room 418, and I think you should. In the meantime I just want us to do what we both want to do — what’s best for both of us.”
 

“I can’t,” Brad repeated, his will slipping.

Willow took another step toward him, then took two fingers and pushed them hard against the door, closing it behind him, then she brushed her hand against Brad’s cock through his pants, lightly at first, then gently pinching his shaft between her finger and thumb.
 

“Mmmmm ... ” she moaned. “Yummy.”
 

“No, Willow. I have to go.”
 

“You do realize you’re refusing me for no reason,” she dipped her hands past her waistband. “I can smell her all over you, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be able to smell me on you.”
 

Willow pulled her hand out from her skirt, slathered in pussy juice. She held it up under his nose, brushing a cunt-glazed knuckle lightly against his cheek. It took everything inside him not to throw her to the carpet and fuck her raw.

“You want to fuck me raw, do you, Agent Hammer?”