Locked Down with Mr. Right

I honestly couldn’t give a damn about the money. I wasn’t some wealth addict under the delusion that millionaires are next door to destitution. I did alright and would continue to do so, still making more money than the majority of people saw in years.

The main downside would be the headache the executives, particularly the board of directors and their silly little threats of firing me or whatever it was that they did to make most people so afraid of them.

I just really didn’t have time for their nonsense. Better to try and avoid it and keep the babies happy. At least for the time being. If there was one thing I could do, it was wait.

The buzzing was gentle and quiet. The phone barely making any sound at all from deep in my pocket. Addie.

“Hello?”

“Tobias, it’s Addie. Addie Harris. I-I’m really sorry to this but I need your help.”

“What’s happening?”

“It’s my ex. He’s had visitation with our son but now, because I’ve been gone, he says he’s going to report me for abandonment. Even though Duncan was with him the entire time, so I hardly abandoned him. I left him with his dad who claimed he wanted him. He’s the one who abandoned him, but after all this time he came back, saying he wanted to make things right and be a dad again, and that it was good for Duncan to spend time in his custody. I stupidly believed him, and I never should have.”

“What’s the name of your ex?” I asked, cold flame burning bright.

“David. David Harris.”

“I’m on it.”

Phones really could be powerful tools. If one had a tool of communication and the will to use it, there was almost nothing they couldn’t do. Like the hacker who started on a cellphone while in court as a witness in a federal hacking case. The line between brave and crazy were thin at points.

“Hi, Candace?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Tobias.”

“Oh, hi! How have you been keeping?”

“Oh, can’t complain.”

“Very droll, my dear. What can I do for you?”

“In this case, it is more what I can do for you. I’ve been warned of a possible false alarm call. If you get a call from a David Harris regarding an Adelaide or Addie Harris abandoning their son, you might want to ignore it. I can vouch for the fact that Ms. Harris is taking part in a show being produced by my studio and left her son in the care of the child’s father, who is David Harris.”

“Got it. I’ll spread the word.”

“Thanks, Candace.”

“No, no, thank you I bloody hate these petty calls. We have better things to do than chase false leads because an ex gets pissed off.”

“Indeed,” I agreed.

It also helped if, in addition to a communications device and the will to use it, one also had some friends in powerful positions. Ending the call to Candace, I dialled Addie to tell her the good news. She picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Taken care of,” I said.

“It is?”

“Indeed. If he even tries to call them, he will be completely ignored if not told of for being a prick. Depending who he gets.”

“Wow, how did you manage that?”

“I’m friends with the deputy director. Went to college together.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck good?” I asked.

“Fuck very good,” she said.

“Really?” I asked, intrigued.

“Never had any complaints.”

“What do you like to do?”

“Suck cock,” she said, with surprising candour.

“What about you?”

“What about me what?”

“What do you like to have done to you?” I inquired.

“Serious?”

“As a firing squad.”

“I like having my feet rubbed. Nothing turns me on faster or better. Give me a good foot massage and I’m putty in your hands. The best way to get me to cum is to lick me.”

“Lick you were?”

“You know,” she said, suddenly turning bashful.

“You’re pussy?”

“Yeah.”

“Say it,” I prompted.

“I like getting my pussy licked,” she confessed.

“Are you blushing?”

“A little,” she said.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked.

“Yes. Anything.”

“A dangerous thing,” I warned.

“I know.”

“Where is your hand right now,” I asked.

“In my panties. On my pussy.”

“Stroking or just cupping?” I asked.

“Stroking,” she said, breath slightly heavier.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You.”

I hadn’t been expecting that. I suspected the attraction might be mutual, but I didn’t know it was to pussy-stroking levels. Particularly not telling me so with such forthrightness. I couldn’t help but feel flattered.

“What am I doing?” I asked.

“Eating me out. I’m sitting down and you’re on your knees, face between my thighs, going to town.”

“I’m doing spirals now, mixing it in with figure 8s, flicking your clit as I pass,” I said, trying my best to paint the picture.

“Yes!” she screamed, stroking herself so hard I could hear her clothes rustling over the phone.

“Slow down,” I ordered, not wanting her to hurt herself.

“Okay,” she said.

She started again, but not nearly as intensely. I could still hear it but not to the same degree.