“Think we can turn her?” Ed asked.
Lester shook his head. “No, she would let you cut off her arms and legs before turning on Patsy O’Connor.” He turned to look at the rest of us. “But, she also has cancer and wants to retire. Word is, Patsy is gonna set her up in a condo in Tampa and pay her a nice retirement for her many years of devoted service.”
“And sucking his pudgy dick under the desk,” Joanie said.
“I don’t know about that,” Lester said, wincing, shaking his head at her. “What I do know is they will probably be looking for a replacement for her. This may be our chance to finally get someone on the inside.”
Ed leaned an elbow on the podium and propped his chin in his fist. “The question is, how do we go about it? I seriously doubt they’re gonna run an ad in the Times for a secretary.”
“I know,” Lester said. “Something to keep in mind, though.”
“Okay, then that’s it,” Ed said. He looked at his watch and glanced around the room. “I don’t have to tell you guys this, but we are coming down to the wire on this one. If we don’t find a way to crack O’Connor’s nuts by the end of the month, the powers that be may shut the operation down.”
I picked up my coffee cup and waited for the others to filter out of the room. I walked to the whiteboard and finished my coffee as I stared into the beautiful eyes of Sean O’Connor.
Something told me that he was the way into the organization.
And that it was up to me to convince him to let us in.
Sean O’Connor
The perks of owning a piece of the hottest dance club in the city were many. There was the free booze, which someone was paying for but it was not me. There was the free food, not exactly gourmet faire but as good as any burger joint in the city. And then there was the free pussy. Or maybe I should say the plentiful pussy. I always came into The White Rabbit knowing that I was gonna get buzzed and fed and blown and not spend a dime. And if I wanted, I could just as easily get laid, all without ever leaving the building. It was like owning a little piece of heaven.
I had my own VIP table. When I wasn’t there they let celebrities and other equally important people sit there. Soon as I showed up, though, they’d clear out the table for me.
I’m not a total dick. I’d usually let whoever was sitting there first hang out, especially if they were a smoking hot chick or had the ability to attract smoking hot chicks, like the night that actor with the name I can’t pronounce hung around.
The White Rabbit was a goddam meat market on steroids.
And I fucking loved the place.
I was doing my best to hold a conversation with my old man while a sweet young thing with teased up red hair and perfect tits gave me a blowjob in the back stall of the men’s room.
She was sitting on the toilet with her dressed push down to her waist so her tits could flop free. I was reaching down to rub her titties with my cellphone propped between my shoulder and cheek. I squeezed her nipples and tried to listen to my old man’s voice in my ear.
My pants were down around my knees and I was facing her with my back pressed against the stall door. She was digging her fingernails into my ass and bobbing her mouth on my cock like one of those bobble-head dolls. She’d gag a little each time the head of my long cock hit the back of her throat.
I reached up to put my hand over the phone and barked down at her. “Don’t get anything on my clothes,” I said. She hummed an okay and kept sucking.
I held the phone to my ear. “So, dad, what were you saying?”
My dad’s gravelly voice boomed in my ear. Why is it that old people feel like they have to yell into the fucking phone? I’m not deaf, for petesake. I’m just… distracted.
“Boozie wants to retire,” he said. There was a hint of alarm in his voice I’d never heard before. He and Boozie had been carrying on for nearly forty years behind my mother’s back. Well, that’s not exactly true. Mom always knew what the old man was doing, but found solace in his American Express black card.
The thing with Boozie was that my old man really cared for her, unlike the string of hundreds of other women he’d fucked over the years. If he hadn’t married my mother, I was pretty sure I’d be calling Boozie “Mom”.
“Dad, she has cancer,” I said, trying to keep my breathing steady even though sweet thing was sucking my cock like there was no tomorrow. She cupped my balls with her left hand and pumped the shaft with the right, keeping the bulbous head firmly suctioned between her lips.
“I know that, goddammit,” dad said. “But Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, Boozie practically runs this place. What the fuck are we gonna do without her?”
“We’ll… shit… find a replacement.”
“What the fuck’s going on there?” he asked. “Are you fucking somebody?”
“No… dad… not fucking…”
“Jesus, Sean, can you fucking concentrate for two goddamn minutes?”