It’s 9 when you touch down. In most places, people would be winding up the day, closing down. In the City of Angels, the day has hardly begun. You quickly gather your stuff from the terminal and go down to the carpark. After searching for a while, you find what you’re looking for.
The car looks like a Tesla Roadster, and it’s quite similar in design. However, there are a few crucial differences. One is that it’s able to withstand much more damage than a normal car. An IED could go off under it, and it could probably just keep on driving, occupants unharmed. Another modification is the serrated blades that are hidden in the tires, as well as windshield-wipers that double as guns.
Driving off on your car, you quickly check Jennifer Taylor’s Twitter, Facebook, and other forms of social media on your phone. To your disappointment, there have been no posts or updates by her tonight, so you’re left guessing as to where she is. From your case files and studies, Jennifer goes out to party in one of five bars virtually every night.
The one she frequents most often is a modern one called “Zest!”. It’s about a fifteen minute drive from where your hotel, which isn’t bad at all, so once you drop off your stuff in your room, you head towards the bar. As you arrive, dressed in a tuxedo as usual, you see that the queue to get in is massive.
The line probably wouldn’t be so long if it weren’t for the fact that the bouncer at the door was IDing just about everyone. He’s just doing his job, but you can’t help but feel frustrated waiting behind fifty people, the line moving excruciatingly slowly. Eventually, however, you get to the front of the line.
“What’s up man, see your ID?” the bouncer asks.
“Sure,” you reply, handing over a fake passport, “You know if Jen Taylor’s in here tonight?”
The bouncer shrugs, and he says: “Took over shift about half an hour ago, she usually comes an hour before that so I wouldn’t know.”
It looks like you’ll have to go searching for her in here the hard way, then. Inside the bar is a thrum of noise and activity. The room itself is pretty dark, but disco lights spin chaotically, moving to the heavy beat of the music that’s blasting through the room. Everybody’s dancing energetically, and you’re sure you see drugs pass hands, but the movements are so swift you lose track.
You quickly join in, pumping your fists as you scan your eyes around the large public area. Quite a few hot chicks catch your eye, but none of them are who you’re looking for. You figure that there would be at least some sort of a crowd around Jennifer, given her recent super-star status, so you don’t bother checking the quieter corners of the room. There are at least a few other suits like you dancing, bodyguards and white-collar workers retiring for the day.
A busty blonde begins to grind against you, pushing her assets into your body, and you smile at her. There’s no turning down a woman this hot, and you hump back against her, feeling your crotch stiffen. The two of you continue having dry-sex, and your cock is soon at full length, straining against your pants. Her hand moves down, and grasps your dick.
Seeing her move so forwardly, you reach behind her and squeeze her ass, and she squeals in delight. Your other hand moves to her breast, and you begin rubbing it. Through the thin tank top that she’s wearing, you feel a hard nipple, and you flick your thumb over it, eliciting another hot noise.
“Wanna get a private room?” she asks, pulling at your arm.
You nod, and follow her through the bar to the back. There are quite a few private chambers in this place, and it looks like she planned to bring a guy in as she already has a key to one of the rooms. She opens it up, and the insides look like a modern parlor, with a large bed on the side.
Suddenly, your mind breaks free of the lust for a brief second, and you consider why you’re here. Should you really be going for this random hot chick, when you have Jennifer Taylor to chase? Besides, just from feeling the girl up just now, you’re pretty sure her massive breasts are fake. |