The XXX Files Season Two (Episodes 5-8) (9 page)

Brad ordered her to ignore the old woman and go faster. He didn’t like being at the edge and unable to blast, and was lifting his ass from the seat, fucking his dick deeper into her loosened fist.

The old woman was just clueless enough to pull a wallet from her purse, stuffed to bulging with pictures from new to peeling, displaying generations of her bloodline. Courtney switched from her right to her left, then started stroking as fast as she could with her weaker wrist while leaning forward toward the old woman, feigning interest.
 

Brad moaned in a whisper as Courtney continued milking his length, apparently finding the perfect rhythm as her hands slid up and down with enough speed that other passengers could probably hear the fapping under the blanket, though the old lady still seemed clueless.
 

Courtney knew she
should
slow, but couldn’t, possibly as turned on as Brad was, even if she was miles further from orgasm.
 

As if he were reading her mind, Brad suddenly slipped a finger under her waistband, past her panties, and right inside her, sending Courtney into an accidental moan — almost a squeal — which startled the old woman. Either finally realizing what was happening under the blanket, or thinking Courtney was having impure thoughts about her third grandson, Gibraltar — named after the Rock — the old woman yanked her photos away from Courtney, as if she had been treasuring them, huffed, then twisted her body back toward her window, looking as if she would parachute from the plane if given the chance.
 

Courtney thought
good riddance
, then turned her full attention to Brad and blew in his ear.
 

“I’m going to fucking cum!” he whispered through gritted teeth.
 

She said, “I can’t wait,” and that was all it took.
 

Brad erupted in a fountain of cum, spraying everywhere under the blanket and making Courtney feel like a fool for forgetting how Brad was always a pint when compared to a normal man’s tablespoon.

Courtney kept her hand under the blanket, wondering how she would clean it. She turned to see the old woman now staring at them in disgust.
 

Courtney was red-faced.
 

Brad laughed, then said, “Well, would ya get a load of that?”
 

XXX

CHAPTER 4 — Brad Hammer

Brad and Courtney had been circling residents of the Shady Palms Retirement Village for two hours and had uncovered approximately dick. Whatever tingle of excitement he felt while watching the video — horrifying as that was — had gone mercifully MIA. Brad couldn’t believe that he’d been turned on — even mildly — by the piles of withered flesh he’d seen on his phone.

Brad felt like a giant, ageist asshole, but couldn’t ignore his feelings: Old people looked disgusting, at least all the pasty, white ones. Apparently, Florida had a
severe
Melanin shortage. Everywhere he turned Brad saw sun damage, wrinkles, freckles, and liver spots. He thought his dick might actually be shrinking, crawling back up into his belly.
 

“This is bullshit,” he said to Courtney. “This
isn’t
Division crap. This belongs to the local ding-dong cops. There’s nothing paranormal about a bunch of horny old broads and dirty old men. This is Viagra’s fault, not aliens or anything paranormal. And it’s dirty. I don’t want to know about old people fucking.”
 

“You’re an asshole, Hammer,” Courtney said. “Old people have the same rights to fucking as you do. It’s crap like that that helps ageism flourish. Everyone is so obsessed with looking young that we can’t stand to imagine that seniors are sexually attractive, too. We think of sex as having to do with youth, reproduction, and power, but that doesn’t mean old people should be asexual. You’re going to be old one day too, you know.”
 

“I didn’t say that old people should be asexual, or didn’t have a right to fuck. I just don’t want to see it or know about it, and sure as hell shouldn’t be flying down to Florida to see it up close. Again, this is a cop issue.”

“Like I already told you, and Cooper told me while screaming for a half hour while you were off doing whatever it is you were doing, one of the people at the Goldblatt party is his father. That makes this Division crap, whether you like it or not. He wants this looked into right. The cops will screw things up like they always do, and he knows it as well as you do. You’d want the same thing if this involved your father.”
 

“If this was my father, I’d be hoping for an assignment in Antarctica, and while I don’t dispute that the cops will likely fuck shit up, that doesn’t mean this isn’t a total bullshit use of Division Resources. What if there were shape shifting hermaphrodites infiltrating congress again?”

“Well, there aren’t, Hammer, and Cooper calls the shots. Get used to it since apparently you’re not already. We’re not being diverted from a priority case to take this, we’re taking this while waiting for a priority case to surface.”
 

“We should be following up on the ghost jacker,” Brad said. “If he can do it, others can, too. And the last thing we want is a nation full of invisible perverts. Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?”

“Of course,” Courtney said. “And I don’t disagree, but right now it looks like Gellar was working alone, and we’re here because we have orders to follow.”
 

“Bullshit,” Brad said. “Perverts like Gellar are always jacking each other off in chat rooms. I’m sure he’s been bragging about what he’s done. That means others are right behind him.”
 

“Stop obsessing about what we’re not doing, and get your mind on what we
have
to do now, OK?”
 

“Fine,” Brad mumbled, “but it’s not like anyone’s giving us answers, or has any. Old people are horny, too; mystery solved.”
 

It was true. In the last two hours no one had seemed able to remember a single thing, at least nothing of use. None of the Shady Palms residents or outside friends in attendance at the Goldblatt anniversary party remembered a thing. All seemed surprised, most shocked, and some heart attack adjacent.
 

“So far,” Courtney agreed, “which is why I think it’s time we move from guests to staff. Whether this is a police issue or not, it’s
our
issue now. So let’s find some answers and start by sharpening our attitudes.”

“My attitude is fine,” Brad grumbled, even though it wasn’t. He wanted to trade the Shady Palms for any one of South Florida’s 23,945 strip clubs, preferably with Courtney, though if she wasn’t willing he was game without her.
 

They started interviewing wait staff. Fifty-four minutes later Brad was interviewing the final one, asking if the kid — who barely looked older than 16 — had noticed anyone at the party taking any drugs, other than Viagra, of course, which Brad assumed everyone must have been chewing like sunflower seeds.

“No, I didn’t see anything like that,” the tall and gangly, pimple-faced kid said as his Adam’s apple bounced up and down. “It was a quiet group, up until the end, of course. That’s when Ricky Johnson ran into the back and grabbed his camera. Sh ... I mean, stuff was getting out of control.”
 

“And you have no idea what precipitated the shift?”
 

“What what?” he said.

“What led to the change,” Brad clarified.
 

“No,” gangly face shook his head again, his Adam’s apple still bouncing. “I do remember that the anniversary couple Frank and Stella seemed to be getting extra nervous as the evening wore on. I thought that
before
all the crazy started.”
 

Gangly face shivered.
 

“What do you mean?” Brad asked. This was the first time anyone had said anything of the sort.

“Well,” the kid pinched the bridge of his nose, seeming to think. “Stella seemed to be drinking a lot, and she was coming on to her husband. When I came in to refill her water she asked if she could have a glass that was just ice since ‘things were getting hot.’ It was about 15 minutes after that when things got out of control.”
 

Brad thanked gangly face, then went to find Courtney. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the best they’d found all day, and maybe something that might inch them the fuck out of Florida.
 

“That doesn’t sound like much,” Courtney confirmed what he already knew. “But it’s better than nothing.”
 

She had uncovered a dick hair less than he had, so together they went to the Goldblatts for a follow-up interview.

As with the first interview, the Goldblatts were deeply embarrassed, though Courtney and Brad agreed that they didn’t seem to be hiding anything. They couldn’t make eye contact with either agent, and all the other signs of bald-faced lying were there: Physical expressions were limited and stiff, with few arm and hand movements; their hands were constantly touching their face, throat and mouth; they both scratched their nose and behind their ears; emotions seemed
off
, almost delayed. Yet, Brad trusted his instinct, and it said the Goldblatts weren’t lying, so much as deeply humiliated that they’d found themselves at the bottom of a hoary orgy, and by the looks of the YouTube video, had been eating their way out from the bottom.
 

“So there’s
nothing
you can remember?” Courtney asked, for what might have been the 20th time.

Frank held his wife’s hand, shaking his head as Stella stared at the floor.

“OK, then,” Courtney smiled. “Thanks again for your time.”
 

Brad was in a hurry to leave, but even so, his agent’s eyes couldn’t miss a clue on his way from their small Shady Palms apartment. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered to Courtney, crossing the living room to a hutch set against the far wall. He picked up a bottle of champagne from a cluster of many, looked at the label, then turned to the couple.

“This says, Happy 60
^th
Frank and Stella, right here on the bottle. That’s custom, right?”
 

Stella nodded.

Brad broke into a smile. “Was everyone drinking?”
 

“Oh, yeah,” Frank said. “Someone sent us 50 bottles for our anniversary. Must have been a damn good friend, since we both asked everyone who sent it, and no one wanted to take any credit. I’m telling you, if I sent 50 bottles of bubbly to someone, I’d want everyone and their Grandpa Joe to know about it. Stella thought it might be our daughter, Suze, but she’s in France right now and having a tough time with some personal stuff. She completely forgot our anniversary.”

“Until the YouTube video,” Stella said.
 

“Yeah,” Frank repeated, looking at his feet. “Until the YouTube video.”
 

“Weird,” Courtney said, perked like Brad to the brand new clue. “And did you ask at the restaurant? Did anyone there know who sent it?”

“Yeah, we asked. But no, they had no idea. They had everything laid out for us when we arrived for the party, and seemed surprised that
we
didn’t know anything about it. They figured Stella and I bought the bottles ourselves.”

Brad said, “Mind if I take a bottle to send to the lab?”
 

Frank looked surprised, if not downright shocked. Again, Brad’s instinct said the old man knew nothing. “You think someone drugged us?”
 

Brad held the custom champagne in his left hand and slapped his right on Frank’s shoulder. “In our line of work, they say the most obvious answer is usually the right one, and while I don’t want to speculate, hell, I’ll admit that makes the most sense to me. That is, unless someone replaced the M&M bowls with Viagra.”

“No,” Stella said, shaking her head and showing more shame than Brad had ever seen in an old woman’s face. “That wouldn’t explain any of us ladies, especially Camille Brooks.” She shivered, and her husband pulled her tight.
 

Brad and Courtney traded a glance, along with a quiet smile, then left the Goldblatt’s tiny Shady Palms apartment.
 

XXX

CHAPTER 5 — Courtney Grayson

“Finally,” Brad said. “It looks like our trip to Florida might not have been such a goddamn waste of time. If someone created horny potion and set it up for some old folks to see all the fucking, well,
that
sounds like legitimate Division business. Now I can’t
wait
to see what the lab says!”
 

Finally into the assignment, Brad held the bottle to the sun, squinting as he stared, as if he could see answers through glass. He was so adorable when they were following a trail from one clue to another. You could say a lot about Brad Hammer, but he was a hell of an agent, the Division’s best, and she couldn’t imagine ever having a better partner.
 

“I’m glad it looks like we’ll have an answer,” Courtney said. “Last thing I want is to hear is more of your bitching.” She smiled so Brad would know she was kidding.

They were nearly across the Shady Palms campus when Courtney’s phone buzzed in her pocket. “It’s Cooper,” she said, looking at the screen, turning to Brad.