Page 33 of Master Class

The guy had been stroking himself slowly, watching the others in the room take their turn of Clarissa. He was close to coming before he even slid inside of her. Clarissa too, was close to orgasm. The cock in her mouth erupted without warning, spilling warm cum across her tongue. She wasn’t ready. She choked and let some of the hot seed spill from the corner of her mouth, down her face, and into her hair. The guy stared down at Clarissa with misted, glazed eyes. His cock was still between her dribbling lips, softening quickly. He ran a casual hand across her breasts and then backed away. Clarissa strained her neck to lift her head up off the tabletop.

The last man fucking her was staring up at the ceiling, like he was praying that he could last a little longer. Clarissa felt tired and worn. She was running on the last reserves of her energy. Her orgasm had eluded her for far too long. Her clit was beginning to desensitize to numbness. She closed her eyes and threw back her head. The bank of lights suspended above the pool table blinded her. She closed her eyes and filled her mind with hot memories of the previous night in Nick Edge’s office. In her imagination she relived the instant he had entered her and the crashing chaos of sensations that had washed over her.

The erotic fantasy was enough to trigger her orgasm.

It wasn’t as powerful or overwhelming as the thrill that Edge had given her, and the man between her legs destroyed her rhythm. When it came, Clarissa’s orgasm was more of a whimper than an explosion. It left her feeling more frustrated than satisfied.

She lay, spent and gasping – more from the effort than the ultimate force of her release. The man fucking her pulled his cock out and sprayed warm cum across her abdomen. Clarissa barely registered the moment.

Chapter 16:

It was dark when Clarissa finally emerged from the bathroom, showered, perfumed and dressed in the short skirt she had bought. She pressed vainly at the wig she was wearing. Nick Edge did a double-take of shock.

“You look like a completely different woman,” he admitted.

Clarissa had changed the style of her make-up, and used different color around her eyes and on her lips. The dark hair was the most dramatic change. It seemed to alter the entire shape of Clarissa’s facial features. She was barely recognizable.

Clarissa smiled her relief, but then her face quickly changed into a frown. She was dressed like a street hooker; wearing the short black skirt and a sheer see-through top. On her feet were perilously high heels, and in her hand was a bulky bag.

“Are you sure all of this is necessary?”

“I’m positive,” Edge said. “There’s no point in snatching Jansing’s personal phone if you can still be identified. You need to look like someone else entirely. It’s for your own sake.”

She nodded dutifully. Clarissa understood the complications of Edge’s plan. Everything made sense… but that didn’t stop the creeping nag of doubts that began to rise to the surface. As the time ticked away, she became more fidgeting and apprehensive. She went over her lines in her mind, rehearsing her attitude and her actions. Edge on the other hand was remarkably calm. He was no stranger to tension and anxiety. He sat patiently until at last it was time to move.

He made one last call on his phone. It was a brief conversation. He hung up and looked at Clarissa.

“Show time,” he smiled grimly.

Edge drove sedately towards Eighth Street. In the seat beside him, Clarissa was small and quiet. She stared fixedly out through the windshield, her hands in her lap, her features pinched and uptight.

“Call the Congressman,” Edge said after he took a right-hand turn. The car was quiet. “And remember about the secret service guy. We don’t want him anywhere near the alley if possible.”

Clarissa swallowed hard and jerked her head in a nod. She scrambled her fingers inside her handbag and clutched the burner phone to her ear. It rang three times before she heard the familiar brusque voice of Jansing.

“What?”

“It’s me,” Clarissa said without the need for introduction.

“What’s wrong?” Jansing sounded wary and cunning.

“Nothing. I’m on my way, but I’m running a few minutes late.”

Jansing grunted and sighed his impatience. “You have the evidence?”

“Yes. The video is on this phone.”

“How long will you be?”

“I’m about fifteen minutes away. You might want to let your secret service man know to take a long walk. I don’t want him around when I show you the footage.”

The Congressman was silent for a long moment. “I’m not a fool,” he snapped. “I came alone.”

“Are you in the black SUV?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Are you parked in the same place?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Clarissa put some relief into her voice. “That alley scares me. It’s full of rats. Can you put the headlights on again when you see me?”

Jansing said nothing. Instead he hung up the phone abruptly.

Clarissa stuffed the phone back into her purse and turned to Edge. The man’s face was expressionless. He had his eyes on the road, staring out at the traffic.

“He’s in the alley now,” Clarissa’s voice wavered with her rising nervousness. “And he said he is alone.”

Edge turned his head at that and his expression registered surprise and then satisfaction. “Good,” he said. “That will make it easier. Do you believe him?”

“That he’s really alone?”

“Yes.”

Clarissa frowned in a moment of thought. “Yes, I do” she said. “He had no reason to lie. If he had a secret service man with him, he could easily have sent the guy on a long walk. I think Jansing is doing everything possible to keep this whole thing secret.”

When they reached the mouth of the alleyway, Edge slowed the car but did not stop. On a cursory glance, the street looked quiet. He saw no one on the sidewalk and no cars parked in the curb. He drove to the end of the street and turned the corner before parking on a darkened side road. He turned in his seat and fixed Clarissa with a reassuring gaze. He reached out in the darkness for her hand. It was pale and cold to his touch.

“Relax and remember your attitude,” he reminded her. “You can’t play this out as a frightened girl who is intimidated by the Congressman. You have to go to his car acting like you have what he needs, so you are in control. You have some leverage over him. Act like you intend to use it. If he controls the conversation, the whole plan falls apart. So be confident and a little demanding. Act like you are holding the ace. Okay?”

Clarissa nodded, not trusting her voice. She forced a weak watery smile onto her painted lips. Then impulsively, she leaned across her seat and kissed Edge softly on the lips.

Clarissa hesitated in the entrance to the alley, standing deliberately for long seconds, backlit by the glow of streetlights so that Congressman would be sure to see her arrive. After a minute a pair of bright headlights cut through the night. Clarissa sighed a last nervous breath and walked slowly towards where the car waited.

She was trembling. The clip-clop of her high heels seemed inordinately loud; bouncing off the high walls of the alley and echoing back at her. She walked with her head high. She was shivering.

She saw the familiar dark shapes of the industrial dumpsters loom out of the shadows. There were more black plastic trash bags than the last time she had been here. She heard soft scratching sounds of movement, but she didn’t turn her head or falter.

The SUV was backed into the alley, just as it had been before. Clarissa walked straight to the rear door and pulled it open.

Congressman Wilton Jansing was sitting back in the leather seat, settled into the far corner of the car. He looked calm and relaxed. With the door open, the car’s soft internal cockpit light came on. The small glow cast the Congressman’s face with a pale ghostly complexion. His eyes were black as stone. He ran his eyes over Clarissa’s face and body with curious sexual fascination.

“You look

different,” he said, enriching the natural tone of his drawling southern accent in an understatement.

Clarissa was standing beside the open door, leaning into the car. She touched self-consciously at the wig she was wearing.

“It’s Edge,” she said, and made a helpless kind of face. “He likes me to dress like a hooker, and he has a thing for black hair.” She shrugged like the former veteran’s peculiar sexual tastes were entirely beyond her control.

The Congressman nodded. “It’s certainly an appealing look,” he conceded. His eyes were fixed on her breasts, and the way they almost bulged from the confines of Clarissa’s skimpy blouse. The position she held herself in only enhanced the visual; bent over so her cleavage was made more pronounced.

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