The four officers walk in, and you panic, your eyes bugging out, fearing they may be here to look for you. You think your dead, that you're going to jail, that you really dug your own grave now. You think ahead, watching your house go through a search, and all the evidence uncovered as a result, the courts throwing you in jail, and getting ass raped by some big hairy fat guy in jail. They walk right to you, and you finally relax as they walk around you with the biggest looks of depression on their faces. 'Lesson learned,' you think, 'Never fear the police until they have you in cuffs.'
You continue out the door before another hand stops you all of a sudden and turns you around, bringing you face to face with Cynthia once more, this time she's dressed more for going outside. She is wearing a pair of jean shorts that stop mid-thigh and a black belly shirt that barely contains her tits. "So," she starts quietly, "you get scared by the police and leave me a thirty dollar tip. What kind of trouble did you get yourself in? And exactly how well's the pay?"
"Nothing I'd be willing to tell you after one load of cum, even if it was huge," you answer honestly.
"Oh, you want to keep a secret from me? Well, that's fine, but don't expect to cum next time you get a private dance from me. Anyway, I do still need that ride home, you mind?"
"You say you won't let my blow a load next time and then ask for a ride home? Cynthia, you need to work on your social skills." Cynthia's devilish smile turns into a pout, and you realize you won't be able to say no to her. "So, to help you learn, you're not riding shotgun."
As you lead Cynthia out, you hear someone say, "Hold it," and once again face the cops. The one who called out continues, "Did you just 'buy her?'"
"No," you say, trying not to sound nervous, "She just needs a ride home, nothing's going to happen beyond that. You can..." Before you can continue, Cynthia once again smacks your thigh before saying, "With the load he blew from one of my dances, there's no way I'd even consider sex with him, I'd have no fun. Besides, I don't sell sex, I sell a view of me being naked and sexy, you should know me better than that Tim." Blushing in embarrassment, you notice Cynthia smiling devilishly, seems Tim has a secret life of crime himself. Tim sits back down and waves you two out, finally getting you out the front door.
You hop into your car and unlock a back door for Cynthia to get in. Once she's in, you take off for the address she gives you. On the way, Cynthia starts making conversation, "So, still won't let me know what kind of skeletons you got in the closet?"
"Nope, not yet anyway."
"Aw, but I can keep the police off of our back when we're together, the male police anyway."
You start recording on the mini-recorder you kept in your pocket from the heist, and say, "Oh, what do you mean, 'Keep the male police officers off our back'?"
"Well, some have wives that would kill them if they ever found out they were getting dances from me, and others have had me until noon in a motel room, others who gun and run. Most guy officers like that club because most of the girls give massages with their tits, they say it helps to ease the tension of the job. Basically, I've got the mail population of the police in my pussy."
You stop recording, smiling slightly. You don't like blackmail, but with a blackmailer that you are DEFINITELY going to see again, it may be a good idea to have something on hand.
"So," she says as she reaches forward, passed the chair, and starts rubbing up and down your chest, "are you sure you don't want to tell me what kind of trouble you get into? I could always cut you some deals on my dances if you get me a job." |