Too soon to Say Goodbye
Part Three
“Listen, I know what I’m talking about. To have the best house, own a construction company; the best car, own a dealership; the best pussy, be a drug lord,” said Jack to the young Hispanic woman.
They had returned from a dinner run, Oklahoma’s finest BBQ with extra sauce, entering the Air B&B with a security card. Jack held the door for the girl carrying the food.
“We’re back. Hope y’all are hungry.”
No one answered.
“No, really, this is barbeque country, and I’ve picked up the best for you. What d’ya say?”
Still no sounds. The house was quiet as a tomb.
Jack took the food.
“Get naked.”
The girl’s dark eyes rolled up, happy to gaze at Jack. It meant nothing to him. She quickly pulled off her clothes, her pert breasts jiggling with hard nipples.
“Not bad,” he said, looking at her slim body, an athletic girl trim and lean with the beginnings of a fine ass. “Now, let’s see how everyone is doing. Get that,” he said, pointing to a dog’s dish beside the sliding glass door.
Inside the main room, a sexy, darkly tanned woman in a bikini lay on her belly, hogtied.
“I’ll untie her mouth. You put the dish down here.”
The naked girl placed the dish in front of her mother, saying nothing to the gagged woman.
“You are in for a treat, my dear. This is world-class-barbeque,” he said, scooping out the cooked meat smothered in a rich sauce.
“Pig!” she yelled the moment Jack removed the gag.
“No, sweetheart, you’re in Oklahoma. This is grade ‘A’ beef. Now eat up. I don’t want you to tell people I starved you.”
“Fuck you,” she said, as coldly and spitefully as those two words have ever been uttered.
In that instant, Jack punched the girl full force, knocking her out and leaving her crumpled on the floor. He grabbed the woman’s hair, pulling it hard and turning her face toward his.
“You will learn or you will pay.”
Jack took a syringe and drugged the woman with her hands still bound.
“Now eat.”
The woman tried eating from the dog’s dish, getting the sticky sauce on her face.
“¿Cómo te llamas?”
“Maria, Juanita, Ortiz, Labonette,” she said, facing Jack’s phone as he recorded her.
“Get up,” he said to the naked girl crying on the floor. Her perfect face marred by a split lip.
When she didn’t move to suit him, the stocky man grabbed her, tugging her by the arm to the bath. She gasped in heart wrenching pain at the sight.
Inside, the heat roared full blast. Jack permanently turned on the overhead heat lamps by jamming a screwdriver into the timer. Underneath them, a pink, naked man tied over the shower bench sweating profusely.
“Hey, partner! You’ve had a little time to think about it. What do you say? Do you agree to my terms?”
“I told you. If I partner with you, they will kill me. If I don’t partner with you, you will kill me. I’d rather keep you from making money from my death,” said the man strapped to the metal bench.
“You said that, Domingo. It hurt, but you said it, and I can see the logic in your reasoning. But I’m a carrot and stick kind of guy. Do you have carrots and sticks in South America Domingo? Do you know what that means when I say that? It means I offer you something you like, but if you don’t play along, you get the stick.”
“Get on the toilet,” he said, turning to the girl.
She obeyed, to her father’s amazement.
“See how well we get along together? I might be family sooner than you think,” he said, stroking the girl’s bare leg. “Scoot up, get closer, come on more. I want him to smell it. Yes, now spread your legs. Domingo stop looking at me. Look at this,” said Jack, placing his fingers on the young woman’s pussy and holding it apart. “There’s a pussy spread open in front of your face. See, that’s a carrot,” he said, playing with her sex. He kept at it until the pink man growled in anger. Taking the hand covered in vaginal secretions, Jack smeared pussy juice all over Domingo’s face.
“I think the carrot is ripe. Don’t you?” he said, smacking the side of her father’s jaw.
“Now, this is a stick… with a barbeque mop on the end.”
Jack covered Domingo’s body and face with barbeque sauce. He moved four radiant heaters within a couple of feet of the man’s sauced body before recording his covered captive’s last words.
“One last time, Domingo, Partners?”
“Fuck you, pendejo.”
“¿Cómo te llamas?” Jack said, while recording his captive’s reply.
“El Domingo!”
“El Senor De Las Moscas,” said Jack, laughing at Domingo’s plight.
“Now I’m going to let you stew on this while I take my carrot and fuck the shit out of Mrs. Maria, Maria, Juanita, oh choke on my Bony.”
Jack’s phone pinged, a CIA official informing him that an Alaskan asset with a clean-up crew was being delayed in New Orleans by CENCOMM.
Much earlier that day:
Lee looked at the nearly full moon. It seemed incomprehensible to him that less than 24 hours earlier he swam up from the bottom of a mountain lake far from civilization, surviving near freezing weather. Now he drove along the endless plains, being passed by long-haul truckers, vacationers, and drunks.
The antique incandescent lamps gave the interior of the tiny VW the warm glow of a campfire. The clockwork sound of its mechanical engine rattled along at 60 miles per hour. Yes, the little car could go faster, but it wouldn’t go faster for long. If going slow took time, being broken down on the side of the road would be game over.
Jennifer made that painfully clear when handing over the keys. Morgan le Fay turned out to be more than just an old Beetle. It was the only thing Jennifer had left to remember her deceased mother. It had been her bedroom, toy box, and confidant. Hunter, the chubby local boy, who saved him from an excruciating hike from Broken Plate Lake, had rebuilt the little car, and kept it running for her.
Without his partner or backup, Lee was on his way to rescue his wife from a madman. No. Madman suggests a mental deficit. Jack was completely in control of his senses. Not only had he embraced who he’d become, but he reveled in it. The only thing greater than Jack’s appetite was his ego, and by surviving, Lee had taken a massive runny shit all over Jack Cannon’s ego. There will be consequences, the pain that Lee’s wife, Barbie, will suffer.
The ringing phone mercifully broke his slow, winding death spiral. Quick to grab it least it awaken Jennifer. He saw the military name, CENCOMMGRP9, before answering.
“Tompkins, go.”
“I’d hoped you would answer. There’s an intel control group on route to Joint Base, New Orleans. They have a clean-up crew, but they also have inventory issues. I can hold them on station until 17:00. Can you get to New Orleans by then?”
A flurry of math without facts led to questions in Lee’s mind. Could he get there? If he tried, would he be abandoning Barbie to a fate worse than death? He had already resolved that he could only save one. Seconds turned into minutes.
“Special Agent Tompkins?”
As if by serendipity, the sign for the I-55 exit to New Orleans and points south appeared on the right-hand side of the interstate.
“Tell them to wait, please… say, isn’t it a little late to be at the office?”
“National emergency Special Agent, get your head in the game. CENCOMM out.”
Jennifer slept as the noisy blinker flashed a right-hand turn to the south bound interstate. It came down to the greatest probability. There was no guarantee that they would get to Florida in time. At least by going to New Orleans, he could pay Jennifer back for her help. If fate was on his side, he could sneak out and still have time to make it home… at 60 mph.
“Morgan le Fay needed fuel.”
“Did you remember to check the oil?”
“I got a fresh cup of coffee. I thought I’d let the oil settle first.”
She gave him a thumbs up. At least he’s doing things right.
“Where are we anyway?”
“Festus, Missouri, on our way to New Orleans.”
“New Orleans?”
“There’s a clean-up crew in route to Haiti. If we get there before five, for you non-military types, we can have the modulator wiped.”
“Oh, that is good news! See, you just have to have a little faith,” she said, as a tear of joy rolled down her cheek. “I’ll go check the oil. We don’t want to wind up on the side of the road now.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it. I’m getting attached to Morgan le Fay.”
From the Missouri foothills, the ground flattened out into a more or less straight shot to the delta.
“I grew up in a commune. One guy got to be called father, Father Dick. Isn’t that terrible? And he insisted on being called Dick. We called the other men brothers. On the other hand, we called almost every woman a mother. We called young girls, sisters, until their first period. After that we’re all mothers. Sex was our television. All of us kids sat around watching people fuck. I mean yeah, people coupled up, but no one got married, because you didn’t know who you would sleep with next. Originally, Father Dick felt he’d have all those women to himself, but we had 30 adult mothers. Then there was another guy that chased only the young mothers. No one liked that. I mean, 15 or 16 sure have a great time, but he only wanted the new mothers.”
“Is that when you started sleeping in the car?”
“Full time, other times I slept in Morgan le Fay when there wasn’t enough room, or when mom slept with other mothers. I don’t know why that bothered her. But yeah, when that guy showed up, I stayed in here because these doors had locks.”
“Do you miss living in the commune?”
“I miss the sex. Love is the greatest of human emotions, and sex is my favorite form of love. If the very best we can do as human beings is to share our love for each other. What’s wrong with sharing sex with each other?”
“When you put it like that, I guess it makes sense.”
“Like those girls at the rest stop? I had hoped you would bring them back to the car, but I realized we were short on time, so you let them pass.”
“Those girls were hookers and all under age.”
“I would think that hookers need love the most. And kindly, show me where god put an age limit on love. If the woman is ready, then it’s her body, her choice.”
“You realize that’s not what that saying is talking about.”
“You mean the murder of unborn children? Yes, I know what the saying is about, and I prefer my meaning. Thank you very much.”
“I think I’ll just drive.”
“We’re early, we’re early. I’m so excited. I’ve never been on a military base before. What do I do? Sign paperwork or pledge allegiance?”
“No, none of that, just your driver’s license,” said Lee, pulling out his credentials.
“I thought you said they can’t scan your id,” she said in a low whisper.
“Well, it’s serious now. So we’ve got to play it straight.”
Lee stuck his head out of the VW as he handed the IDs to the young man standing gate guard.
“Group Nine called about me checking in with the clean-up crew on its way to Haiti.”
“I don’t have anything about that here,” said the enlisted man, looking at his clipboard. “But, there is a flight group from Alaska to Haiti on hold in hangar 5B. You’ll have to park your POV over at the Exchange and ride the shuttle to the tarmac.”
“Thank you.”
The little orange car stuck out like a pumpkin in a limestone pit among all the white and grey Navy vehicles.
“Um, Lee… Didn’t he say to park at the change machine and catch a shuttle?”
“It’s always easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Besides, if we can make a quick exit after you’re done, we’ve got a shot at getting to Florida first.”
Lee parked the car between two yellow shipping containers.
“See, nobody will even notice. Come on, follow your ears. We want to go toward the noise.”
Stepping around palettes and debris, they worked their way through the staging area to the tarmac guard shack.
“Hey! We are here from Group Nine! Hanger 5B!” said Lee, shouting over the jets while showing his badge.
The guard nodded his head, handing them ear protection, goggles, and headgear. Then he pointed down range and to the left.
Bored airmen sat around the hangar.
“Fellas, did you get a call to wipe a modulator?”
“Yep, that’s what we’re waiting on.”
As Jennifer left with the crew, two MPs took Lee to the Squadron Office. He knew better than to question the patrolmen. Soon enough, they opened up a mahogany door on the second level, ushering Lee inside and posting a watch on the door.
“Agent Tompkins, I’m Assistant Director Goodwell. I want your badge and ID,” said the small man with glasses.
“You want to tell me why first?”
“Holding up a critical asset in the middle of a national emergency good enough for you, Tompkins?”
“There’s an innocent girl who’s going to die tomorrow. If an illegal modulator doesn’t get wiped.”
“Oh, well, about that. Let’s look at the reports. It seems you really have an issue with your partner, Jessup. Going back three months, insubordination, insubordination, conduct unbecoming, horseplay with firearms, threatening a senior member, insubordination, and that’s just the first week!”
“Whoa, whoa, none of that happened. Jessup and I’ve worked together for five years.”
“I looked, and it’s hardly a stellar performance. Run-ins with the local authorities, taking part in petty crime, failure to report infractions of your stoolies.”
“I do a dirty goddamned job for you.”
“Listen to me, I’m CIA, not OSS. I’m here because Jack Cannon is missing, so is Special Agent Jessup. Maybe you could give me some answers.”
“Cannon! Cannon fucking shot Jessup point blank, and tied me to a jeep that he sank to the bottom of a Colorado lake! It’s a miracle I’m even alive.”
“Is that so? I’ve got a paper that says this, and I quote. ‘Monday Tompkins and Jessup are continuing to fight. I understand that part of undercover work is to have a look, but these two really hate each other, especially Agent Tompkins. He’s already threatened my life and rifled through my rucksack.’ Does that sound familiar? It was only three days ago.”
“No, nothing like that happened. Monday was like every other day since Cannon came to work with us. He sat by himself and refused to talk to either of us. We did our job while he played with his electronics.”
“There’s more. ‘I feel they are going through my records, angry that I’m making a list of their hostile and dangerous behavior. I’m in fear for my life. Tonight I’m going to the grocery. There is a young clerk named Jennifer there. I will tag her with a modulator and record with her vital information should I come up missing in the following days.’ I assume the young woman holding up a deployment that’s costing the taxpayers 50-thousand dollars an hour is named Jennifer.”
“That’s total bullshit. There’s no secret intel on the modulator, just a termination code for Friday at 9AM.”
“I’m CIA, Tompkins. I’m going to trust my guy long before a bad actor like you. If she dies, I’ll carve that modulator out of her head and get it decoded if I have to.”
“What?”
“You heard me. She’s not getting wiped and the clean-up crew is already in the air.”
So this is what it feels like to quit a job, thought Lee. I better make it count. Except halfway through the punch, he checked his swing, but he still felt Goodwell’s jaw give when he knocked him out cold.
“Yeah, the old man’s pretty mad,” said Lee to the guards at the door. “He told me to sign some paperwork at the JAG office.”
“Yes, sir. That’ll be in the white building off to the right as you come through the main gate.”
“Thanks fellas.”
Lee walked away, hoping that the handcuffs and scotch tape would keep Goodwell quiet long enough for him to make a break.
Jennifer stood at the tarmac guard shack, distraught.
“They wouldn’t help me!” she wailed, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I was nice to them, and they left without helping me.”
“Assistant Director Goodwell told them not to. I just broke his jaw over it.”
“Really… I love you, Lee Tompkins,” she said, giving him a passionate open mouth kiss.
“We better leave now.”
He picked her up and carried her heartbroken body to the staging lot. As they puttered off, Lee noticed an aid car rushing toward the squadron office.
“Yep, time to go,” he said, pulling into traffic.
“Well, I’m fucked. I didn’t help you. And we’re not getting to Florida now in Morgan le Fay. She might as well have a neon sign that says criminals inside.”
“We’re criminals?”
“I just broke an elderly man’s jaw, and he reports directly to the head of the CIA. I’ll be lucky if they arrest me. Chances are good they’ll gun me down without cause.”
“So neither one of us has much longer? … Turn right on St. Charles.”
“Where are we going?”
“If we’re both criminals, and we don’t have much time. Let’s go out in style.”
At the end of St. Charles hung a bright blue and gold sign, Skyline Delight Arial Tours.
“Why not?” said Lee, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.
“It’ll be fun. I just want to say goodbye to Morgan le Fay. Oh, and get the biggest one. I want caviar, champagne, and enough room to fuck,” she said.
Lee made the arrangements, and Jennifer caught up in time to follow Lee out to the airstrip.
“Howdy, I’m Tristen and I’m going to be taking you love birds up on our honeymoon special,” the young man said, using his clipboard for a visor.
“I like that,” said Jennifer.
“Okay, I’ve got to do a preflight check. Why don’t you two go inside and buckle up in the two seats behind mine, and we’ll be in the air in about ten minutes.”
The young pilot came across as confident and professional, taking time to explain every evolution. He wanted his guest to enjoy the trip as the twin-engine plane took off on a sunny afternoon. Once Tristen turned off the seatbelt light, Jennifer got naked and sat in the copilot’s seat.
“Can I wear these?” she said, picking up the spare headset.
“Wow, you don’t fool around, sure, but be careful not to bump the microphone button.”
“These are cool. Do I look like a pilot in them? Where’s the control for the radio?”
“Right here.”
And with that, Jennifer turned it off.
“What the hell, lady?”
He turned to see Jennifer holding a stub nose 38.
“We’re taking your plane to Florida. But I don’t want it to be a regular hijacking. I want it to be fun,” she said, stroking Tristen’s leg.
The nervous young pilot glanced back at the dangerous-looking man behind him.
“Purple pineapple protocol,” said Lee.
He understood the desperation of his frozen travelling companion. An odd, pretty girl who loved life. It should be illegal for men like Jack Cannon to come in contact with innocent souls like her.
“It’s been a rough day. She won’t shoot. She only shoots the people who deserve to be shot.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Kid, I’m going to tell you only because the people looking for me will assume I told you. We got caught in a trap. I didn’t pick up on it. They warned me. I was told to ‘get my head in the game.’ I could make lots of excuses. None of them matter. Here’s my ID. Until about 20 minutes ago, I worked for the OSS.”
“Who’s that?”
“Exactly. We’re the people that don’t exist. There is a South American Drug gang, powerful, very rich, and cutting some deep roads into the west. We had intel that put their leader in the United States, and we received a CIA operative, named Jack Cannon. He worked on a case relative to ours in South America.”
“What does that have to do with her?”
“She’s Jennifer, an innocent bystander, an American citizen, and just a great person. Jack put a mind control chip in her head. Then he set it to self destruct tomorrow morning.”
The men looked at Jennifer.
“She’s in a deep hypnotic trance right now because of the mind control chip. What we call a modulator. I told her that the clean-up crew would erase it and save her life. We drove through the night to New Orleans, but the CIA set a trap for us, believing the modulator contained clues to their missing operative’s location.”
“That Cannon feller, that you’re chasing?”
“That’s him, but we’re trying to avoid that fucker. No, I brought us here to get help from a clean-up crew. After an incident happens, a clean-up crew comes in and massages the scene before the world sees it. So gang hits become lone wolf acts of desperation, counterfeit operations become money launders, and sex rings vanish. They make the official story true.”
“They wouldn’t help her? They just put her in the chair and said psych?”
“Pretty much. That’s when I broke Assistant Director Goodwell’s jaw. They’ll probably shoot me after this. We’re kind of like the mob. Once you’re in, there’s only one way out.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, when she wanted to book this flight, I thought we’re going to drink champagne and fuck for a couple of hours, because tomorrow we’re dead people.”
“What’s in Florida?”
“My wife,” said Lee, handing Tristen a photo of Barbie.
“Dude! Damn! Why the hell are you playing undercover agent when you’ve got this waiting at home?”
“Everyone needs a job, and not everyone can do this one. That, and it’s a long story.”
“We’ve got time, unless you’ve changed your mind about going to Florida.”
“You want to go?”
“Dude, I’ve got to see this woman for real. Is she like her?”
“You mean mind controlled? Very much so, and that’s the reason I stay away? I make it worse every day we’re together.”
“You got to tell me all about this.”
“Okay, but let’s fuck Jennifer for a couple of hours, and then I will tell you about my wife.”
“That sounds great. You know they never invite the pilot in on the good stuff.”
“Let’s do some decoy work and then get under the radar.”
“It’s dangerous to fly that low.”
“We don’t have to do it long just enough to give everyone the wrong idea, and then we turn around and run for the gulf.”
“When it’s foggy over the water like this, it makes me think of the Bermuda Triangle, and she’s not helping. Can we thaw her out?”
“As soon as you get the autopilot set, but remember, her pussy belongs to me. We’ve got something special going on.”
Lee noticed Jennifer’s eye move. It only moved a little, and someone would have to be looking to see it. But voices have a way of getting out.
“She told me she loves me, and I believe her. I feel the same way about her,” he said, staring into her eyes. “Of course, she’s one of those rare flowers who loves almost everyone. Even those airmen who refused to wipe her modulator.”
He sat back in his seat, lost in the math without facts, painting scenarios in his mind, tearing each one down as fast as a new one went up.
“Okay, I’m ready,” said Tristen.
“A lovely bunch of coconuts.”
“You did that thing again,” she said on waking.
“I can’t let you shoot the pilot on our getaway.”
“I would not shoot Tristen. I only shoot people that deserve it. Besides, it’s not even loaded.”
“Load it, unloaded guns are called paperweights.”
“Can’t we fuck first?”
“Oh man! She is hot to trot!”
“Tristen, you got to learn to curb your enthusiasm. When you get excited, you slip into goober mode.”
“I think his goober is cute,” said Jennifer, setting down the gun and putting her mouth on Tristen’s cock.
When Lee removed his hoodie, Tristen got a glimpse of a man he had only seen in comic books. His entire body rippled with muscles covered with tattoos and scars, giving him a kind of perverse war paint. Even the way he handled her body left Tristen in awe.
Lee put his rugged hand on her hip and gave her meaty ass a couple of light slaps. Jennifer obeyed, opening her legs for him.
Lee noticed the young man’s stare.
“Hey! Pace yourself. She’s expecting two full hours.”
“I can go two in a row!”
“She’ll get three out of you,” he said, taking care to enter her vagina without causing pain.
As if to reassure her lover, Jennifer made a warm cooing sound, nodding her head while sucking Tristen’s dick.
His wife had taught him the ways of a woman’s body. Lightly, Lee felt for clues, running his thumbs up her spine and touching her. He decided on a nice even stroke a little faster than his usual, but in time with the roar of the engines. A purr vibrated through her body, letting him know she agreed as she slurped on Tristen’s virile erection.
“Such a beautiful bum,” he said, running his tattooed fingers over her pale flesh.
He stretched his arms, teasing the backs of her thighs while he kept the same rhythmic pumping into her sex.
She could taste the liquid seeping from Tristen’s throbbing dick. Too soon, she thought, pulling off his cock and burying her nose in the crease of his leg.
A move that Lee misread, believing her to be near orgasm. He grabbed her hair and gave her ass two quick smacks. A trigger he had programmed into her at the rest stop set off images in her imagination, as Jennifer held on to Tristen’s warm cock for balance. Flashes of hard dicks pounding creamy pussies in time with her hard fucking brought her to orgasm.
Not satisfied, Lee tugged her hair and slapped her ass again. The visions returned. The cocks seemed closer. The clapping sounds of bodies rutting sounded louder, and the smell of Tristen’s balls filled her nose. She groaned, an earthy sound like a gritty jazz singer warming up to a high note, and shook from head to toe.
He smacked her ass a third time, and she rose as he pulled her hair, putting her tits in Tristen’s face as she went immediately into orgasm number three. Lee rode out the spasmodic throes of her nearly virgin vagina until finally he shot his seed inside her quivering body.
“How’s that for a first time?” he said, pulling her into his thick arms with his cock still solidly anchored in her pussy.
“I love you,” she said with a breathless gasp.
They clutched for a moment until her senses returned.
“Can I have a minute?”
“Nope, you’re still in the middle of a blowjob,” he said, pushing her back down on Tristen’s hard-on.
A veteran of many group sex sessions, Lee took this time to regroup, but not relax. His erection softened, but he kept it inside her. Carefully, he worked his cock into her pussy, always pushing in while watching her suck dick. In time, he felt the pressure return, stretching, thickening, and engorging him. Before Tristen could orgasm, Lee took his cum covered cock and sunk it into Jennifer’s oily, well used asshole.
“Yes!” she shouted in pure joy. “Oh god! Yes! Fuck my ass, baby. Give it to me!”
Unaware of Jennifer’s past and her deep love for anal sex, Tristen could only marvel at the erotic goddess she had become. She bobbed on his dick with gusto while furiously rubbing her slick slit. The sight took the young man by surprise and he emptied his balls into her mouth without warning.
A heaping serving of semen filled her cheeks before she could swallow the next fast blast of hot, thick cum. She felt like a fairy princess with a hard cock rocking her ass while she drank from the fountain of another. Its acrid flavor and pungent aroma put her in heaven, but she couldn’t stay. She had Lee behind her, and he rode her like a racehorse, yanking her hair and smacking her ass.
“Faster, faster,” Lee demanded, knowing the girl couldn’t cum.
She tried working her pussy as fast as she could, getting ever so close, just not all the way.
Occasionally, he felt her hand smack his leg while she diddled her pussy. Taking pity on her, he smacked her ass twice, triggering an orgasm so grand she passed out in a quivering, wet mess. The two men hi-fived over her unconscious body.
“Best hijacking ever!” shouted Tristen.