Quaranteam: SE - Team Davies Ch. 15.5 (Beta)

Quaranteam: SE – Team Davies Ch. 15.5 (Beta)

By 2charlie

The Quaranteam Universe is the creation of CorruptingPower, used with permission.

This is a Beta Copy, and may change prior to final release.

Chapter 15.5 – Andi’s Tale

All Characters depicted in sexual situations in this story are over the age of 18.

***Micanopy, FL – 2200, Thursday, September 17, 2020***

Andi finished her set onstage at The Café, having worked her way through the normal three-song set, removing layers of clothing during each song, until nothing remained by the end of the third song but her garter, stuffed with bills. As she bent down to gather her discarded clothing and the few dollars of cash tossed onto the stage, a cascade of catcalls wafted her way from a group of scruffy-looking men hanging out at a corner table.

“Hey babe, why don’t you bring that fine ass over here and give us a dance?” one of the men called out to her lewdly.

“Christ,” Jenna whispered as she passed her on stage, “Roy should really toss those guys. They’re gonna be trouble.”

“Yeah, but times are tough, with the lockdowns – we’re lucky to be open, I suppose,” Andi responded in a hushed tone, heading to the dressing room.

“Officially, we’re not,” Roy reminded her as she walked past the DJ booth, “but, greased palms work wonders with the local law enforcement. Besides – they’re all focused on keeping Gainesville in Gainesville just now, it seems,” he posited, referring to the recent quarantine zone that had been erected around the party capital of university towns.

“Don’t remind me, Roy,” Andi complained, putting on some silky lingerie. “That shit’s kept me from going home – I’ve been crashing on my Dad’s couch.”

“You can crash on MY couch instead, if you like,” Roy leered at her, making her shudder.

“I’m good,” she replied, rebuffing him, and heading back out to the floor. She wondered briefly about whether or not Roy, or Phil, the bouncer, were going to enforce The Café’s ‘hands off’ policy, given that they were already operating in a pretty dark grey area. Legally, they were tip-toeing a fine line regarding whether or not they should even be open for business. Technically, they were supposed to be enforcing strict masking policies – which they weren’t – as well as a six-foot separation between the girls and the customers – which would cost the girls a lot of missed tips. But still, thus far, the staff had been pretty good about trying to keep the entertainers from being physically mauled by the customers.

With the crew at the corner table, she had her doubts. They were all good-ol-boy types, looking a bit scraggly with their overgrown beards and shaggy hair. Definitely not the usual crowd of grad students or the occasional married couples looking to put a little spice in their evening.

Having no other customers to service, she steeled her resolve and approached the rough-looking crew of rednecks, all of whom had been loudly cat-calling the girls on shift all night, from the poor waitress who kept getting her ass groped when she delivered their beers, to the dancers working the stage.

At least they’re tipping the girls, she told herself. It could be worse. Not that it would make a difference, in her case, she thought as she stopped at their table.

“Now, aren’t you boys out after y’all’s’ bedtimes?” she drawled as she slowly swayed her hips while turning her shoulders side to side, putting all of her curves to work. Andi was in her late twenties, but with her hairstyle and her makeup, she looked like just another college co-ed working her way through school by pole dancing. She’d been told before that she resembled a tall Anna Kendrick but with bigger breasts, appearing younger than her true age. Standing at a comfortable 5’ 8”, tipping the scales at 130 pounds, she was toned without being overly muscular. Her Size C tits stood out proud, with their dark pink nipples jutting forth from beneath her silky babydoll nightie, the tiny barbell piercings clearly visible in each. Her firm tummy gave way to a pleasant pair of hips, promising easy child delivery in her future. Long, toned legs gave way to an average pair of feet with nicely done nails. Her hair was her biggest callout, though, as she had it cut in a shaggy mohawk, the sides of her head shaved smooth, and her bleached blonde hair teased and moussed into standing up in a bouncy coif, with about an inch of coloring at the tips. Tonight, she was sporting bright blue tips.

It was all part of her façade, her image that she had carefully cultivated, seeking to put her exactly where she was now. In the path of trouble.

The big goon on the left reached out a massive hand, the size of a dinner plate, and smacked Andi’s ass, grabbing hold of her left cheek and squeezing it, making her wince just a little. “Careful, stud,” she warned him. “The Café’s got a strict No Hands policy.” She was not surprised when he just laughed, still holding onto her butt.

“Now, don’t you go worrying about ol’ Phil over there at the door, or Roy the DJ,” the big goon boasted, making a big show of smacking her ass as he said it. “We paid them to mind their business, not ours, so they’re not gonna be any trouble.”

“Well, you need to keep your fucking paws to yourself and act pretty, ‘cause you sure aint paid ME yet!” she snapped back feistily, knocking his paw away and stepping away from him, turning to address the other men at the table. “Since y’all are behaving yourselves, what can I do for you, sugar?” she oozed at the redneck sitting on the right, licking her lips as she maintained eye contact with him.

The man sitting across from her at the table chuckled, giving the handsy guy a shove. “Guess she told you, Rod! Best mind your manners if you wanna get a blow job from this one!”

“It’s all good, Sam. She’s just a little feisty – aint been broke-in yet. We’ll fix that in a bit, don’t you worry!” the big goon guffawed.

The third man, the one Andi was standing in front of, scooted his chair back with a big grin. “Aint you purty!” he crowed, as he patted his thighs, motioning her closer. “How ‘bout you set a spell right here on ol’ Hank’s lap, and lets you ‘n’ me chat a bit?” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a roll of twenty dollar bills, peeled one off, and laid it on the table.

“Well, now,” Andi purred with a sweet grin on her face. “A man with manners!” Scooping up the twenty, she shifted her hips and sat side-saddle in his lap, saying, “Don’t mind if I do!”

No sooner had she sat down that Hank started rubbing his big hands up and down her smooth, bare back. She suppressed a shiver. Truth be told, it was a bit chilly in the café – Roy had the damn thermostat too low again, given the small crowd tonight. Still, it made her nipples poke out, earning her more than a few extra tips in recent days.

Sam, the dude in the middle, whistled and waved over Christy, the waitress. “Darlin, would you please bring us another round of Coors, and maybe the cocktail of choice for Miss Andi, here?”

“’Bama Slammer, Christy, same as usual,” Andi told the waitress, sounding to the men like she’d ordered a shot, when in fact it would be Tropical Punch Kool-Aid. Still, she had to keep up appearances, just so these fuckers didn’t get wise to the fact that they were spending twenty bucks on a glass of bug juice. As per usual, she’d down the drink in one shot – thus preventing them from discovering its true nature – and after a few, start acting tipsy, before she would finally excuse herself to go to the ladies' room. That was usually when she would make her exit, and not return, claiming illness. It had worked in the past.

Tonight started to shape up differently the minute Rod raised his voice to make sure she could hear him above the music pumping out of the speakers overhead. “So, girly girl, how much to give all three of us a private dance back in the VIP lounge?”

“I can host a couple or one person in the VIP room. You, fellas, don’t look like you’re married in a gay throuple, so I can only go with one of y’all at a time, for a hundred apiece,” she responded smoothly.

Sam chuckled, then leaned forward. “You’re funny. I like that. Now, let’s try this again. We all want to be in the room with you at the same time. How’s five hundred sound?”

Trying to look surprised, but also needing to appear money-hungry, she gave the appearance of thinking it over. “No insertion, just groping,” she tried.

“For $500, I want some of that pussy you’ve been flashing at us,” Rod growled.

Shaking her head at him, she declined, saying “Sorry hon, I’m sure a stud like you’d probably make me walk funny for a week, but my Aunt Flo’s visiting, so no-can-do. Hand-jobs only, or no deal,” she countered smoothly.

Eyeing her sharply, Hank asked, “Your ‘aunt’ aint no dentist, right? Surely we can do better than just a hand job, sweetheart. Else, we might just pass you by and check in with Jenna up there, even though your boobs look better than hers,” he emphasized his point by groping her tits, giving them a good squeeze, making her grimace a bit.

“Well, a girl’s gotta buy mouthwash after that, so make it $750, and you boys got yourselves a deal,” she gave them a sparkling smile, wiggling her ass in Hank’s lap as she tried to sound enthusiastic.

“Damn, this gal’s got cajónes!” Hank groped her tits again. “I like her! I’m in. Guys?”

“Settle down, Hank. Let’s make things very clear – for $750, she swallows – otherwise, no need for ‘mouthwash’, so $500. Deal?” Sam pressed the matter, wanting to get down to it.

“For that much, she’d best be able to take me balls deep! Aint no nut-in-a-mouth worth that much elsewise,” Rod poked a stubby finger into Sam’s chest to make his point.

Andi noticed his fingers were thick but short. Probably nothing to worry about, she thought to herself. Looking at the other two for any telltales that usually meant ‘hidden talent’, she saw nothing to make her concerned.

As the other two got up from their seats, Hank helped her up from his lap, then stood up, looking around. “Who do we gotta pay?”

“For the VIP,” Andi responded extending her hand and beckoning with her fingers, “you pay me. And I need to see the cash before we go back there. Five hundred now, the rest when you’re… satisfied,” she finished with a smokey look while biting her bottom lip.

Sam and Rod dug in their pockets and brought out rolls of bills, peeling off several fifties apiece and passing them to Hank. Hank brought out his own roll, peeled off four $50 bills, and added them to the stack. Handing the wad of cash over to Andi, he smiled lecherously at her. “This should… get the ball rolling.”

Taking the stack of Grants, she turned and walked over to the bar, tucking the bills into the top of a box securely attached to the bar top. Turning, she sashayed back to them, all smiles, and waved for them to follow her. “This way to the VIP room, gentlemen.”

Andi led the three men down a dark hallway past the stage area, to one of several doors off to the side. Pausing at the door, she looked at the men and considered her situation for a moment before speaking. “If any of you gentlemen need to use the facilities before we begin – perhaps to make sure you’re clean and presentable – the men’s room is just down at the far end – last door on the left. If your cock isn’t clean and pretty, the deal’s off.”

Turning back, she opened the door and held it for a moment. The men looked at one another, then went as a group to the men’s room. As soon as all three had returned, she bade them enter, then followed them in, closing the door behind her and flipping a switch that illuminated the “Occupied” sign just outside.

Inside, the small room was dimly lit by a series of LED rope lights strung along the walls. The room had a large U-shaped sectional sofa, with a small space in the middle just large enough to accommodate a dancer. The three men each moved to a separate section and took a seat, watching Andi expectantly.

Beside the door was a small digital tablet mounted to the wall. Andi opened up a menu on the tablet and tapped on several items. The men’s curiosity was quickly addressed when sultry tunes different from those outside began pumping out of the wall-mounted speakers and the lights dimmed, with Snoop Dogg’s Wet being the first on the playlist. As the song started, Andi stepped into the middle of the group and began moving to the music, her motions sharp and evocative, turning to swoop first at one of the men, then the next, then the third, as she peeled off her babydoll nightie, then her G-string. It did not take long for her to be completely bare, save for her heels, and then she started in on Rod, oozing into his lap.

Pressing his knees together, she straddled his legs and sat down, swooping her face and tits abruptly past his face, leaning away just as suddenly when he reached up to grope her, gently pushing his hands back down to his side as she rubbed herself against him, left, then right, sweeping her hair back and forth in his face, never remaining still.

As soon as the music changed to the next track, she stood up and pivoted over to Sam as Nelly’s Hot in Here began to play. Standing in between his spread legs, she turned away from him and bent over, thrusting her ass toward his face, stopping just as he leaned forward, wiggling her ass in his face to tease him, then pulling away from him, spinning suddenly to face him. Grabbing his legs, she closed them and straddled him as well, pressing her well-toned torso against his chest and rubbing up and down on him to the beat of the song. Always moving, she carefully dodged and weaved each time he would reach up to touch her, bringing her face close to his, teasing his lips, and then backing away.

The song ended, and she moved on to Hank as Rude Boy by Rihanna came through the speakers. Gyrating sensuously to the music, she continued her tease, bouncing her tight tits in his face before spinning away to tease him with her ass. Wiggling it just out of his reach, she weaved a pattern, making his head bob and weave as he tried to follow her every move. Slinging her head back and forward, she dragged her spiky mohawk over his head and into his face. Looking at Rod, she pointed at him and told him to get his pants down.  As Rihanna’s voice faded, she stepped away from Hank and prepared to move back to Rod as he fished his cock out for her.

Just as the opening beats to Closer by Nine Inch Nails started to fill the room, she strutted over to stand between Rod’s legs and squatted down suddenly, opening and closing her knees to the music as she reached for Rod’s rod, wrapping her hand around it and beginning to pump it to the beat as she lip-synced to the music, making exaggeratedly lewd faces at him as she stroked him in her hand.

As the music backbeat started to rise, she lowered her head and swiped at the tip of his cock with her tongue, licking at it quickly, then diving her head down and engulfing him, making him moan out loud. Bobbing her head to the beat of the music, she was bringing him quickly to his peak. Rod reached out to grab her head, but she batted his hands away from her with her free hand, lifting her mouth from his cock to look him in the eyes as she shook her finger at him, telling him in no uncertain terms that he should keep his hands off of her.

Quickly returning her mouth to him, she picked up where she’d left off, with the addition of one hand wrapped around him, stroking him to the same pace as her head bobbing. She knew she had him when she started to hum along with the beat, as she wrapped her tongue around his cockhead, and started to jack him faster following the rising tempo. Within seconds she felt him tense for just a moment as his climax hit him, and then she jammed her head down on his shaft, feeling his seed spurt into her mouth, swallowing quickly and trying hard not to think about where it was coming from.

Finishing him off, she withdrew and quickly bobbed her head just out of reach as she stood up quickly and danced away, moving out to the middle of the room to await the start of the next song. She didn’t have to wait long as Brittany Spears started groaning out the opening lines of Gimme More.

Stepping over to Sam, she once again went into her routine, crawling up his lap, sliding her breasts up past his mouth, just barely out of reach. Suddenly, she swooped down to capture his cock in her mouth, immediately setting up an up-and-down tempo to match the music. As soon as the second refrain hit, she added her hand, twisting and stroking at the less-than-impressive cock she was working with her lips and tongue, trying the get him off before the end of the song. Right on time, she felt him tensing up before an impressive amount of jism spewed forth from his pecker. ‘This dude must be pent up,’ she thought to herself, finishing him quickly, then slowly crawling up his lap again, sweeping her mohawk across his face and back again before she twirled away, wiggling her bare ass in his face before strutting back to the center of the room, gyrating around, again awaiting the next song.

‘Who the fuck picked this shit?’ she thought, as Busta Rhymes started the opening rap lines to start Dontcha for the Pussycat Dolls. Strutting cat-like over to Hank, she half-spun away to bend down and pump her ass up at him, moving her knees to shake her cooch in his face until he started to lean forward, then bumping his nose briefly with her ass cheek before spinning into a squat between his knees and grabbing his cock with her left hand while trailing her right index finger up along his jawbone, looking at him with come fuck me eyes before she dipped down to inhale his cock. Finally, something worth her time. She could wrap her hand fully around little Hank and still have his cockhead exposed, giving her just a little more to work with than his buddies were packing. Letting a good amount of drool dribble out of her mouth and down his cock, she worked her left hand up and down along his shaft a few times to get it slick.

 In one sudden move, she dove down upon him, tightening her grip around his base as she swallowed him whole, bringing her lips to her hand in one smooth glide. Fluttering her tongue along his shaft as she withdrew, she repeated the plunge, adding a twist with her hand. Picking up her pace, she made a big show of twisting her hand one way as her head turned the other, slinging her hair back and forth in his field of vision. Hank never stood a chance. With nearly a minute of music remaining, he nutted hard into her mouth, grunting loudly with his release, reaching down to gently run his hands through her moussed hair.

Deciding it was harmless enough, she did not swat him away. After all, he was her target. Her mark. The whole point of this fucking… scratch that, this sucking exercise.

Finishing him off, she gave his cock one last lick as she rose in front of him, looking him directly in the eyes once more, then leaned forward to kiss his nose and stood, dancing back to the middle of the room to put on a few more moves as the song ended.

With the final beat of the song, the lights came up in the VIP room, and Andi quickly pulled on her G-string and babydoll before turning to Hank with her eyebrows raised expectantly. “I believe I met all previously agreed-upon conditions, gentlemen. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in The Café VIP room this evening, where we are known throughout the state because We Dare to Bare.”

Accepting the remaining wad of cash from Sam as he and Rod exited the room, she turned to look at Hank as he stepped closer to her, leaning his head toward her. “When’s your next day on the schedule? I’d like to see your show again, maybe do this again…”

Allowing herself the slightest of sultry grins, she told him she would be back Saturday night, starting at nine o’clock. He nodded and gave her a few extra twenties as he gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and moved past her to join his buddies. Looking a bit more relaxed, they made their way to the door and left.

Andi turned and went to the ladies' room, which doubles as the girls’ dressing room, to fetch her street clothes.  Detouring into a stall, she shoved a finger down her throat to help her expel the jism she’d just ingested, colored red by her mocktail. Then she went to the sink to rinse her mouth out, taking a big mouthful of the mouthwash that she had in her purse, gargling, and then spitting it into the sink. Her shift was over, the café was empty. Time to go. As soon as she’d completely dressed, she checked, then tucked her Glock G19 into the rear of the waistband of her jeans.

She’d been waiting for this opportunity for nearly two weeks now, and she’d do what needed to be done to find and exploit whatever wedge she needed to get in with this crew. Hank Abelard, son of UF Civics Professor Dr. Henry Abelard, seemed to like her, so for now, he was her mark. She had to build on tonight, gain his trust, and eventually get him to bring her back to their hideout.

***Clarksburg, WV – 1000 – Friday, September 4, 2020***

[Thirteen Days Earlier]

“SAIC Isaacs will see you now, Special Agent Davies.”

Rising from her chair in the waiting area, FBI Special Agent Andromeda Davies walked quickly past the receptionist’s station, noting the newly added clear plastic barrier shielding the woman behind it, and opened the heavy door to Special Agent in Charge Benjamin Isaacs’ office. The man was prowling behind his desk. Standing at over 6 feet tall, the man was large. Not overly muscled – those days were in the past – but bulky. Andi doubted he’d seen his pecker without using a mirror for more than a decade. Thinning hair, thick glasses, dark skin, and a push-broom mustache that was hidden behind his N95 mask rounded out the first impression of a man in his sixties, along with the off-the-rack Men’s Warehouse suit he was wearing.

The office itself appeared to be from another time – dingy ceiling tiles spoke of decades past when smoking was permitted in the building, and the well-worn carpet had long since faded to some shade of garnet splotched here and there with heavier stains, likely from coffee spills. The desk itself was a disarray of paperwork, one large stack that was threatening to slide over onto a neighboring short stack, with various manila folders strewn from edge to edge.

Rising from one of the two chairs facing the desk was a slimmer man, looking to be perhaps in his late thirties, sporting a nicely tailored suit in charcoal, along with a dark blue shirt, black tie, and a black mask. Noticing his Christian Louboutin Oxfords made her raise one slim eyebrow. The man had taste. Or he was a complete poser. Time will tell.

“Special Agent Andromeda Davies, meet Special Agent Robert Wentworth,” Isaacs stated, cutting directly to the chase, as per usual. “Bob, Andi here graduated top of her class from Quantico a couple of years ago and has been assigned to work with me to investigate the various Sovereign Citizen militia groups that are becoming more problematic along our southern states.”

Extending his hand, Wentworth shook Andi’s with a firm grip. ‘Good,’ she thought. ‘Not one of those pussies who act all scared of gripping a woman’s hand.’ He then squirted a dollop of sanitizer into his palm from the bottle on Isaacs’ desk and began rubbing his hands together. Andi did likewise, the act having become second nature in public.

“Bob here has been working with a bit of a focus around a group in North Central Florida – believe they go by the name of Swamp Boys?”

Wentworth nodded, taking the lead. “The Swamp Boys comes across as your garden variety sovereign citizen militia, with tendrils reaching out to other shadowy activities. They are active in the usual varieties of drug trafficking, auto theft, chop shops, and occasional sex trade stuff – mostly typical redneck lowlife stuff, but things have changed recently. After Trump died, we started monitoring a lot more chatter between various groups, nothing organized, thus far, but there’s a pattern – smaller, isolated groups, extending from central Florida all the way to west Texas. These groups seem particularly agitated in the wake of the lockdowns, and somehow, some of them caught wind of the additional pandemic responses related to DH. Chatter has picked up recently about new initiatives that concern us more than normal, as there seems to be growing interest in domestic response activities being run by the Air Force. The group we’re focusing on is located down in North Central Florida and seems to be stirring up trouble near Gainesville, where they had a major outbreak in the last few months.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Andi’s brow wrinkled as she puzzled over what she’d just been told, frowning behind her mask. “Why would a bunch of Gadsden Flag waving rednecks be interested in the activities of the Air Force?”

“We’re not sure,” Wentworth admitted, rubbing his chin with his right hand, then tapping a folder on the desk near him. “The mere fact that they are discussing it, to include trying to stage disruptive activities – interfering with the supply chain, targeting key leaders or their families - is of severe concern. We don’t understand their intentions or their source of information. These aren’t a bunch of good ol’ boys, it seems, but are looking more like well-informed, well-connected persons of interest with motivations and agendas we can only guess at.”

SAIC Isaacs spoke up again, waving another sheet of paper. “Based on recent comm intercepts, we think they’re planning something more long-term – maybe trying to take advantage of the disarray in all levels of government the pandemic is causing. This is beginning to stink of some sort of separatist shit.”

“Anyway,” Isaacs continued, turning to fix Andi with a stare, “we were thinking of trying to get a mole into their midst; someone who could get eyes on what their intentions are and give us a clue as to how medieval we need to get on their asses.”

Wentworth turned to look at her, stepping back to eye her up and down. “Take off that jacket, please, and lose the mask – I’d like a better view of your body.”

Shocked, but willing to play along for the moment, Andi took off her mask and removed her jacket, revealing her white fitted shirt underneath. Her skirt and blouse hugged her curves nicely without being inappropriate for the workplace.

“Yeah, I can see it. Do you do Pilates or some other fitness routine? You look pretty fit,” he observed in a not-too-creepy way.

“Something like that,” Andi replied evasively, not wanting to admit that she’d taken up pole dancing for core fitness a few months ago.

“It should serve you well if you undertake this role.”

“And what exactly is this role, Wentworth?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“These guys are pretty tight, concerning who they hang around with. The only exception we’ve observed involves a small group of them who regularly visit a local college-town strip club south of Gainesville. We were hoping to insert an agent undercover in the club, in the hopes that she could catch their attention and work her way into their trust – get recruited, so to speak.”

“So, you’re asking an agent to play the role of a stripper in the hopes of becoming a redneck separatist organization’s what, exactly? Gang fuck toy? Are you serious? That crosses all kinds of lines! You do realize that, right?” She was flabbergasted; her face flushed at the suggestion.

“Look, if you’re not the right fit for this, we’re fucked.” Wentworth glanced at Isaacs for a moment before he continued. “I’d been told that you were solid in your undercover psych evals, that you were stone cold under pressure, and didn’t have any sort of religious hangups or current relationships. Word has it you do pole dancing for fitness – that’s a big plus for this gig. Bottom line: your skills make for a good combination of qualifiers for the role we’re trying to fill. I won’t lie to you – you’ll have to do some pretty disgusting shit, there’s no doubt. But we’re not talking small-town hoods here – these guys are behaving like they might have some nation-state adversary backing them, and if they do, we need to know right-the-fuck-now!”

Surprised by his intensity, as well as a little turned on by it, she leaned back for a moment to consider the matter more dispassionately. Gathering intel via pillow talk was old-school tradecraft. But, truth be told, it usually worked. The only question was, could she see it through? She had been taking Krav Maga for four years now and felt confident she could handle herself against a larger, stronger male aggressor, but if she were outnumbered and unarmed, things would go sideways quickly.

“Let’s cover the logistics, at least,” Isaacs suggested, wanting to give her time to consider the assignment beyond what seemed like an outright rejection. “We’d need to get you down to Florida immediately, get you employed quickly, yet surreptitiously at this strip club, then put you into play, to see if you can get the right attention.”

“Lots of ifs there. If I can get hired. If I can get their attention. If I can work my way inside. Sounds pretty weak,” she looked skeptical. “Who’s going to be my backstop? Help pull me out if shit goes sideways?”

“We’re pretty thin right now, so it’s gonna be me,” Wentworth told her, looking hopeful that she would consider giving this a shot.

“I’m not sure that gives me warm fuzzies, Bob,” she hazarded, giving him the side-eye. “You’re a bit too clean-shaven to work this with me unless you’re planning to be remote – over the horizon. You scream fed at first glance.”

“Well, I’m all you’ve got, and we’re under a time crunch here, so I need a yes or no, and I need it now. I’ve got a Gulfstream ready to fly us south this evening. So?” Wentworth looked at her, awaiting her decision.

She glanced at Isaacs – he was of no help. He’d toss her to the lions because that’s what SAICs did. It was not his job to protect her, it was his job to put her into a position to get the job done.

Andi closed her eyes. Fuck. This was not what she expected when she joined the FBI. This was some serious next-level misogynistic bullshit. The worst part was, if she didn’t go along, she could kiss her career goodbye. Fuck.

Swallowing, she looked up. “You two had better pray this doesn’t go sideways on me. I will go all revenant on your asses. Seniority be damned, you both know how off-books this shit will have to be.” Turning to Wentworth, she went on, clearly angry, “What time will you pick me up at my apartment? I need to pack a bag.”

Checking his wristwatch, Wentworth looked up at her and stated, “I’ll be there by 4 pm. It’ll take us an hour to get to Ruth Field at that time of day. Should be wheels up by 1730 latest; takes about two hours to get down to the Central Florida Regional Airport – the FBI has a hangar there we can use. We’ll go over the details en route, and you can go apply at the joint this evening.”

Nodding, she looked at Isaacs for a moment, realizing she didn’t give a shit what he had to say just then. Fuck. She put her mask back on, picked up her jacket and purse, and left his office, then the building. Heading out to the parking lot, she was already thinking about her options. Perhaps it was time to take her mother up on the offer to get her a job over in the State Department. Her stepdad would be disappointed, but she didn’t much give a shit about him right now. She’d definitely have to consider a career move after this fuck-job was done. She giggled at the irony of her thoughts.

***30,000 feet above Asheville, North Carolina – 1800 - Friday, September 4, 2020***

“You want me to what?” Andi asked in disbelief, looking at the pole in the rear cabin of the Gulfstream. “Where the fuck did you get this plane from, anyway, Jeffrey Epstein?”

Wentworth just stared at her. “Get your ass stripped down to your underwear and show me what you can do. Mask off, too. You’re going to be asked to demonstrate your talents in a few hours, so we may as well determine if you’re going to go for a dancer or a waitress job. What’s the problem? I thought you’d been doing this shit for some time, already. Let’s go!”

Forcing herself to relax and uncurl her fists, Andi sighed and began to disrobe. Stripping down to her teal-colored lacy bra and thong, she took two graceful steps and launched into a quick routine on the pole, twirling around with ease, climbing up, rolling down to a sudden stop about eight inches from the floor, and then getting off the pole.

“I think I’ll be able to get the dancer job,” she assured him, just a bit of arrogance in her tone.

“Okay, now what about a lap dance? Are you able to give a good lap dance?” he challenged her, clearly trying to goad her into moving past her reservations. As she started to strut up to where he was sitting, he added, “In the buff? They do full nude at the Café,” He reminded her.

Stopping, biting back a rude retort, she shifted gears, deciding to see if she could get a rise out of him – appreciating the irony again. Slowly removing her bra and then her thong, she set them both aside upon her pile of clothes. Turning, she slowly strutted in his direction, a naughty look on her face as she prowled up to him, swinging her hair around her shoulders teasingly, adding a seductive sway to her hips.

Wentworth was lounging in an upholstered seat, easily wide enough for what she had in mind. Straddling his lap, she put a knee on either side of his hips, thrusting her hips up as she writhed sinuously against him, teasing the man with a series of almost touches, before sliding away, wiggling her ass, feeling him begin to respond beneath her.

Trying to appear unmoved, Wentworth asked her dispassionately, “And the VIP Room? You understand that customers such as our targets often expect a bit… extra… from a girl they pay to take them into the VIP Room?”

Reaching down between them, Andi began to unbuckle his belt, then unfasten and unzip his trousers. Lowering her hand, she found and took hold of his cock, feeling it thickening in her grasp. She adjusted it so that it was pointing up between them, seeing his face relax as he became more comfortable, and started to stroke him as she writhed in his lap.

“You should be prepared to do more, as they will likely request it,” he informed her, attempting to keep a calm and steady voice, although his cock betrayed his level of interest.

Sliding out of his lap, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she spread his knees wide and knelt in between them, only breaking eye contact when she looked down and took him into her mouth. Beginning to work his tool with her hand in conjunction with licking and sucking him, she had him trembling in no time.

“It is entirely possible that they will… ahh… push for more than a blowjob,” he suggested, a tremor in his voice.

She smiled to herself, knowing that – regardless of whether the swamp boy fuckers wanted a piece of her – Bob wanted to get some of her pussy. ‘What the hell,’ she thought, ‘I’m down to join the Mile High Club.’

Standing up, she leaned over, dangling her tits tantalizingly close to his face, and grabbed his legs, pulling him down lower on the chair so she could fuck him. Without preamble, she yanked his trousers and boxers down, turned around, and made a show of bending over, her legs spread wide as she played with her pussy for him, then moved back to lower herself onto his lap, grabbing his cock and holding it so that she could rub it along her slit, then lowering herself down to impale herself onto it. As soon as she had bottomed out on him, she began to writhe her hips to an erotic rhythm in her head, fucking him as she would some guy in a VIP room, turning to check on him periodically over her shoulder. Occasionally, she shifted motions, twerking her ass as she stroked herself up and down on his cock, getting him closer.

When she heard him grunt and felt him tensing up, she quickly rose off of him and turned around, bending over to take him in her mouth to the root, swallowing as he shot his load down her throat. Wringing his cock with her hand, making sure she got every last drop, she stood up, looked him in the eye, and stated in a cutting tone, “I think I’ve got this, Bob.”

Turning away from him, she went to pick up her clothes and then grabbed her travel bag, before going to the water closet, leaving him to recover and pull up his pants.

***Final Approach, Central Florida Regional Airport – 1945 - Friday, September 4, 2020***

Just after the pilot announced that they were on final approach, advising passengers to take their seats and fasten their seat belts, she emerged from the water closet, having accomplished a complete change. She was wearing a pair of toeless high-heeled shoes, fishnet stockings that disappeared into a pair of booty shorts, a snug-fitting Tom Petty crop top T-shirt that almost revealed the underside of her boobs, garishly vivid makeup complete with bright red lipstick and smoky eye shadow, sparkling quartz earrings dangling from her ears, and her hair had been bleached blonde with red tips around the bangs, the rest pulled up into a high ponytail. Even her purse had been exchanged for a denim bag slung over her shoulder.

“Well, that should at least make them think you’re a good looker for the job,” Wentworth commented, impressed at the makeover. “Let’s see how this goes. Time to strap in for a landing,” he told her, turning to lead her to the forward cabin where they buckled into their seats.

As their plane angled for final approach, Andi noted strange amounts of activity going on so late at night at the north end of the airport. “Any idea what that’s all about?” she asked, gesturing through the window.

Wentworth didn’t bother to look. “I caught word about the Air Force sending teams up from MacDill, setting up some sort of operation up here in response to a local outbreak. We’re going to need to avoid being in or around these parts for the foreseeable future – don’t worry, there’s a stash house I’ve procured down near the Café – we’ll hole up there for the immediate future,” he finished just as the plane touched down.

Making a rapid deceleration, the plane angled off the main runway onto the taxi lane, heading for an isolated hangar at the far southern end of the airport. No sooner had the plane come to a stop than the two special agents were out of their seats, grabbing their bags, heading for the hatch that the flight crew had just opened. Stepping down the short flight of stairs onto the tarmac, the two entered a black SUV that awaited them, the door being closed behind them, and the vehicle quickly departing.

Inside the back of the vehicle, Wentworth was busy giving Andi a last-minute review. “Your identity has been fully backstopped. As we covered on the plane, you are now Andi Shipley, a former UF student who majored in Poly Sci, looking to make ends meet during the pandemic. Got you a CHL, too, in case you need to prove that hand cannon you pack is legal. It should be enough to get you through. Oh, and I’ve got you a new phone – my contact is in there under “Dad”. Use this to maintain comms with me. Check-in is no less than every 24 hours. Don’t make me ground you, young lady,” he joked, checking to see if she was paying attention.

“Yeah, whatever, Dad,” she responded, sounding like a sullen teenager.

Nodding, he continued the briefing. “Social Security card, family photos – you can make up whatever you want about those – and two cards with room on them, just in case you need finances. Pass me your other personal items – ID, phone, anything telling the world you’re not Andi Shipley. I’ll hide them at the stash house for retrieval later.”

Going through her bag, she sorted out old from new, giving over the old items to Wentworth. Pulling out her Glock G19, she press-checked it to ensure a round was chambered, then double-checked to make sure the two extra mags were also loaded, and then carefully returned them to the concealed carry sleeve within her bag. Making sure she had a fresh bottle of stripper spray near the top of her bag, along with a partial sleeve of condoms, she buttoned her bag closed, satisfied she was prepared.

Less than thirty minutes later, they were pulling into the driveway of a dark home a few miles off Interstate 75, near the exit where The Café was located. The house’s previous owner had sold it to property investors the previous year, and the bureau had obtained usage of the property on an as-needed basis. It was a tiny, crackerboard shack, probably seventy years old, but isolated and remote. Perfect for what they needed.

Out front was a metallic blue 2014 Ford Focus ST that had been purchased recently from a local mechanic who’d restored it to working order after the previous owner had abandoned it, unable to afford the repairs. The mechanic had paid the young co-ed $500 to take the high-mileage car off her hands, put about another $800 into repairs to get it running again, and sold it to the bureau’s man for $2,500. The sporty little hatchback was perfect for Andi’s cover.

Putting her Apple AirPods - specially made for undercover comms – into her ears, she tapped the left AirPod, then articulated, “Comm check,” softly as if speaking to herself.  

“Good comms,” Wentworth responded from across the house, walking to the front door to meet her as she departed, tossing her the car keys attached to a Gator keychain.

“On my way,” she stated simply, snatching the keys out of the air and then turning to exit the house.

She sped away as Wentworth dismissed his driver, walking around to the rear where a Black 2016 Ford Taurus SEL with heavily tinted windows awaited him. Getting into the car, he started it up and followed leisurely after Andi, maintaining a discreet distance as he put himself into position to assist her should anything untoward arise.

Forty-five minutes later, parked in the rear of the club, he heard her through his comms. “I got the job. Will be on rotation starting tomorrow night. Will be Oscar Mike in five minutes.”

True to her word, five minutes later, he watched her exit the club and walk quickly over to her vehicle, keys in hand as she remotely started and unlocked the Focus, eyes always on the move. Entering her car, she sped away moments later and headed back to the stash house. Waiting for a moment to ensure no one else was leaving, he started the Taurus and followed her.

“I’m about two minutes behind you. Watch your speed – the local LEOs love busting strippers speeding around here,” he cautioned her.

Back at the stash house, he entered to find her already naked, exiting the bathroom to head into her bedroom. “It’s been a long day, Bob,” she called out to him as she walked into her room. “Try to get some sleep.” With that, she closed the door behind her, and the lock gave an audible click as she engaged it.

***Micanopy, FL – 2130, Saturday, September 19, 2020***

Andi was surprised at the crowd – this was the heaviest night since she’d started working at the Café, and she counted over a half-dozen tables occupied by at least three people. The odd pattern of the attendees caught her eye as well. Although there was one male at each table, he often had two or more female companions. Interestingly, the women were more enthusiastic about buying lap dances than the men and were certainly better tippers.

What she didn’t see were any tables with just men. Nor, unfortunately, did she see any single males at the bar or any of the tables. Apparently, Hank was a no-show.

Gathering the singles that had been tossed onto the stage during her set, as well as her lingerie, she quickly headed for the ladies' room to get changed for her floor shift – time to work the crowd.

When she came out, Phil waved her over. Stepping over to the bouncer, she nodded at him, “Wassup, Phil-boy?”

Leaning close to her so she could hear him through his mask over the pumping music, he told her, “One of those guys was here from last time – the big blond dude. Took one look at the crowd and went ‘Ah, hell no!’. Came over and asked me what weekdays you’re working next week. I told him you’d be here tomorrow night, then again Tuesday, then Friday. He asked me to tell you he’d be back one of them days, towards the end of your shift.”

Nodding her head, she looked around at the crowd. Turning back to him, she leaned in close, having to almost shout to be heard through her mask, telling him, “Thanks, Phil,” lowering her mask to give him a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to the nearest table to see if they wanted to buy her a drink or get lap dances. Three chicks at this table – it was gonna be a long night.

***Micanopy, FL – 2330, Friday, September 25, 2020***

Andi had just completed her third rotation on the stage, having done her usual routine – three songs, lose the top by the end of the first song, bottom by the end of the second song, entirely nude for the third song – and was gathering up her cash and discarded lingerie when she spotted Hank sitting over in the back corner, away from the door.

The crowd had been light tonight – especially given how heavy it had been during the weekend – and there was only one other table of customers. Two gals and a guy, which seemed to be the new normal. Changing into her babydoll and G-string, she made her way out to the floor, heading over to the far back table where she’d seen Hank.

He was watching her approach, eyes roaming all over her body as she strutted up to him. Slipping one leg over his lap, she straddled his legs and sat down, facing him, and casually draped her arms around his neck. Leaning close so he could hear her over the music, she yelled, “Hiya, Hank! Long time, no see!”

Putting his hands on her waist, he held her gently, almost respectfully, as he shifted to speak into her ear. “It’s been pretty crowded in here lately, despite the lockdown shit happening up in G-town. I’m not a big fan of crowds,” he admitted to her, shrugging as he continued to fuck her with his eyes.

“Would you like a lap dance to settle your nerves, big guy?” she asked him, wiggling her ass on his as she batted her lashes. Sometimes the oldest tricks still work.

“Ya know, what I really want is to have you to myself in the VIP Room,” Hank blurted out, blushing slightly as he ran his hands up along her waist, gently caressing her. “I’d kinda like to do more than last time though, since your ‘aunt’ should be gone by now.”

Leaning in close to whisper in his ear, she softly asked him, “Did you bring protection?”

Hank grinned and nodded, tapping his shirt pocket. Peeking inside, she saw a three-pack of Trojans. She patted the condoms, leaning close again to inform him, “Sugah, I don’t just sell my pussy to anyone, but I’ve taken a shine to y’all. Tell you what, for tonight only, we can party in the VIP for six songs – that’s almost twenty minutes – for $250. Normally, that’d run you $350, and no coochie. Whatcha think?”

Hank was eager. She could tell by the lump in his jeans. He nodded quickly to her. “Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”

She leaned in and spoke into his ear again. “Wait here, darlin’, while I go make sure the VIP Room is empty. I’ll be right back!” She leaned in to peck him on the cheek, then got up from his lap and strutted away towards the hallway with the VIP Rooms.

Andi quickly ducked into the ladies' room, went to her locker, and grabbed a small packet from her purse. Inside was an RFID active tracker that would allow Wentworth to follow whoever was carrying such a device, once it was removed from the shielded packet. Tucking the tracker into the tiny front pocket in her thong, she quickly went back to Hank, motioning for him to follow her.

Andi led the way to the VIP Room, stopping outside as she had done before. “Hank, baby, do you need to visit the Man’s Room back there to do anything, or are you ready to go?”

Grinning at her calling it the Man’s room, he shook his head. “Don’t need to make any pit stops, Ms. Andi. I’m clean and ready for you, just how you like it!”

“Well, okay then. When you’re ready, we can do this,” she replied, holding out her left hand, palm up, watching him expectantly.

“Oh, r-right!” he stammered quickly, understanding what she was asking of him. Digging into his pocket, he once again withdrew a roll of bills, thumbing through it to find the right denominations before handing her two hundreds and a fifty.

“Hank, baby, you need to ask Santa for a new wallet. Didn’t your momma warn you about carrying cash loose in your pocket?”

Without another word, she tucked the cash into her thong and opened the door, allowing Hank to walk in before her. Following him inside, she closed the door and flipped the switch that activated the ‘Occupied’ sign, then went to the digital pad on the wall to pick out a song mix. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Hank looking around, not quite knowing what to do.

“Hank, baby, why don’t you take off your boots and your pants? You can leave the rest of your clothes on, if you like, or take ‘em all off. Up to you.”

She turned back to the pad, made her selection, and then turned back to him as the lights in the room dimmed.

Hank had already gotten his boon dockers off and was stripping off his pants and boxers. Holding out her hand to him, she took his pants and boxers and turned away to fold them, slipping the tracker into the tiny coin pocket on the front of his worn Wrangler jeans. She’d learned from a friend at the academy that the coin pocket on Wrangler brand jeans was too small to be very useful, especially if one had thick fingers. However, it was perfect to hold the tracker. She quickly folded the clothes and removed her own, leaving her in just her high heels.

As Britney Spears growled out ‘I’m a slave for you’, Andi began to strut along to the pumping techno beat, zigzagging her way over to Hank, before spinning around, spreading her legs wide, and bending over to look back at him from between them. Seeing his eyes glued to her pussy, she flexed her knees one after the other, causing her ass to wiggle. As expected, Hank’s eyes tracked her every move, fixated on his desire, his fist stroking his hardened rod.

Pointing to his shirt pocket, she just raised her eyebrows. Realizing what she was asking of him, Hank pulled out the packet of condoms. Strutting to him, she plucked them from his shaking hand, tore one from the other two, and handed the extras back. Placing the corner of the packet into her teeth, she slowly tore it open while holding his gaze in a smoldering, unblinking stare. Hank froze like a proverbial deer in the headlights.

Removing the condom from the packet, she discarded the packaging and brought the condom up near her mouth, dribbling a dollop of saliva into the inside of the condom, then adding a larger amount of spit into the palm of her hand. Bending over Hank, she wiped his cock with the spit in her palm, then placed the condom over his manhood and knelt between his knees, using her lips to unroll the prophylactic over the whole of him, smoothing it on with her fingers once she had placed it upon his glans with her mouth. She watched the big man shiver in anticipation.

‘Cherry Pie’ by Warrant started to blare forth from the speakers, and Andi once again segued into a quick dance-tease, bringing herself tantalizingly close to Hank, then slipping away. After enough of this, she stepped forward, reached down to grab his legs beneath his knees, and pulled him out from the seat several inches. Once she was satisfied he was where she needed him to be, she straddled him and lowered her snatch down to the tip of his condom-clad cock, taking him in her hand and rubbing him along her crease to make sure he was lubed before she impaled herself on him, just as Warrant was singing about making a grown man cry.

She sat there in his lap, her pussy enveloping him, knowing that his sensitivity would be slightly reduced. She was pretty certain the next song would get him going. In the meantime, she leaned in really close to him, lightly brushing her lips across his, then bringing her eyes close enough to flutter her lashes into his. Hank sat there, mesmerized, not daring to use his hands, until the songs changed, and 50 Cent started taking them to the ‘Candy Shop’.

Andi began to slowly grind her pussy on him, slowly rotating little circles around the base of his cock, before lifting up gently and then slowly lowering herself back down. The second time she lifted up, she rose a bit higher, thrusting her tits into his face. Reaching his beefy hands up, he took hold of her breasts to squeeze them firmly – not too hard – then bring his mouth up to her right nipple, sucking it into his mouth and running his tongue around her piercing, making her let out a groan.

As soon as the deep base notes from Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ began to pulse out from the speakers, Andi snatched Hank’s hands from her tits and held them above his head, pinning them to the back of the sofa as she began to grind her hips on him in earnest. Dropping her pussy hard on him with every beat of the song, she began to work him up. Dialing her game up a notch, she began to moan loudly, convincing Hank she was nearing her climax. Of course, she wasn’t, and likely wouldn’t, but as far as he would know, he made her feel good.

Leaning down to him, she brushed her lips across his, moaning into his mouth, as she ground herself on him. With little warning, Hank’s breathing suddenly increased, and he strained upward against her, roaring into her mouth as he came, filling the reservoir of the condom with his semen.

Slumping back down into his chair, Hank half lay there, a foolish grin on his face, as the endorphins from his orgasm permeated his nervous system. Rising from him, Andi turned and walked over to the tablet interface, switching the playlist to something more relaxing, then went back and sat sideways in Hank’s lap, cuddling him.

A few minutes later, she rose up once again, moving over to Hank's clothes and handing them to him. “Time to get dressed now, Hank. We’ve been lucky that no one has discovered us, but let’s not push things, hmmm? I don’t need no jail time, and I don’t want the boss here to have anything to hold over my head.”

Taking his clothes from her, he started to sort through them, getting himself dressed. Pausing, he looked at Andi. “Would you ever be open to doing things elsewhere? Maybe someplace more private?” he asked her.

“Aw, Hank, you’re sweet. You mean like, on a date or somethin’?” she asked innocently, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Well, maybe… yeah. Somethin’ like that, I suppose.” Hang replied quietly, almost shyly.

“Tell you what. Let me think about it, and you come to see me tomorrow night - we can chat about it then.” Stepping up to him as he stood, she gave him a quick kiss, leaned in, and whispered, “See you tomorrow, stud,” and then she turned and led him out of the VIP Room, adding a hypnotic sway to her hips as she walked. Turning to look at him one last time over her shoulder, she blew him a kiss and stepped into the ladies' room.

Going to her purse, she dug out her AirPods quickly and put them in, pressing the comms switch as she did. “Wentworth, the mark is tagged. Confirm good signal from the tracker.”

A moment later, she heard Bob respond from his end, “Signal confirmed, Andi. I’ll keep an eye on where he goes from here. Maintain your cover, just in case. Out.” He cut the channel, and she placed the AirPods back into their charging case. Putting her purse back into her locker, she went to the mirror to freshen up as Lindsay came back from her stage set.

“You going back out there, Andi?” Lindsay asked as she started to put on her lingerie before going out to work the floor.

“I’m thinking I may be a little under the weather, Linds,” Andi lied. “Might’ve been something I ate, I’m not sure, but I’m feelin’ a little pukey. Think I might call it an early night. You and Jenny and Alison should be good.”

Andi let Roy and Phil know she was not feeling well, and they agreed she could call it an early night. She let Jenny know that she was heading back to her Dad’s place a little early and then left.

Going out to her car, keys in her hand, she was wary as she approached her vehicle. Pulling out her cell phone, she opened up an RF signal finder app and walked around her car, making sure that there were no signals emanating from her vehicle. Ironically, until she had tagged Hank earlier, she’d not been concerned about such things. In hindsight, she should have been more careful all along, but she’d be doubly so moving forward.

For now, content that no one was tracking her, or had done something to her vehicle, she got into her car and headed to the stash house.

Hopefully, she would hear from Wentworth that the tracker had led him to their hideout, and she could bail on her stripper gig. In the meantime, she was going to grab a bite to eat and then get some sleep. Tomorrow, they should know more.

****