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Archive name: agent25.txt (MF, cons, oral, celeb)
Authors name: Carnage Jackson (carnagejackson@hotmail.com)
Story title : Journal of an Agent: Alyson Hannigan

----------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. This story
may be distributed freely, for commercial or non-
commercial use, but PLEASE leave my email/name on it! 
That's all I ask!
----------------------------------------------------------

Journal of an Agent: Chap. 25 - Alyson Hannigan 
By Carnage Jackson (carnagejackson@hotmail.com)

***

(In the last chapter, our hero Dean was run off the road 
by a mysterious man in a large black truck. Plunging off 
the guard rail off a cliff into the cold, blue Pacific 
ocean below, we pick things up in mid air, moments from 
impact into the water)

***

It's true what they say about your life flashing before 
your eyes right before you think you are going to die. 
For me, that happened in those few seconds right before 
my BMW landed like a breaching whale into the dark ocean 
off the California coast. I saw lots of things and lots 
of people - my family, my friends, the girls who had 
broken my heart, the girls I had fallen in love with and 
all the flings and one night stands in between. 

I could see nothing in front of me beyond the black 
horizon that the headlights lit up, a dizzying sense of 
floating overwhelming me as I braced for the thud into 
the water. By some sort of miracle, my car managed to hit 
the water almost completely level, the front end where 
the engine lay pulling me down only slightly. Whatever 
you can imagine falling off a cliff over 100 feet into 
water below is nothing compared to what it really feels 
like.

With all the grace of a brick hitting concrete, my car 
smacked into the crashing surface of the waves with a 
jolt, sending my head rocketing towards the roof of the 
car painfully, the force of the hit enough to break my 
jaw, my mouth filling with blood immediately. And for a 
moment, just a split second, after I hit the water, I 
felt like I was going to be okay. As if the water would 
somehow float my car and let me gently swim away from it 
to shore.

But then the reality of physics took hold and I began to 
sink, nothing but deep ocean bottom beneath me to stop 
the plunge. The first thing I felt after I hit was the 
icy cold January water seeping in through the cracks at 
the doors. Slowly at first, then coming in as a torrent, 
the air escaping from cracks and holes in the cars frame 
work that I didn't even know existed. The water rose 
quickly, first to my ankles, then to my knees, and then 
to the middle of my chest, before I even had a chance to 
react.

The engine had gone dead now, all that fancy safety 
technology for walking away from an accident useless as I 
sank. I struggled with my seat belt, my instincts taking 
over now as I didn't act rationally but only like an 
animal, struggling to survive. I saw out of the corner of 
my eye the surreal image of the water overtaking the 
night sky above me as I sank. The water was up to my neck 
now as I lifted my head towards the roof, grasping at all 
the air I could suck into my lungs.

My body was cold, colder than I had ever been in my life, 
as the water finally finished seeping in, filling every 
available pocket of space in the vehicle. I held my 
breath, opening my eyes to look around in the murkiness 
of the vehicle, trying to make out familiar shapes. 
Thankfully, the headlights of the car were still somehow 
on, allowing me enough light to tell what was up and what 
was down. My mind raced as I tried to think of what I had 
in my car that was heavy, what I could use to break the 
window and swim out, my only chance for survival now.

I felt the car gently land with a thud on the bottom of 
the sea floor, the front plowing softly into the mud and 
mirk, kicking up dirt all around me. Half swimming, half 
leaning, I felt around in the backseat for something, 
ANYTHING to help me. My lungs burned now, running out of 
air as I frantically tried to escape. I had always been 
able to hold my breath longer than my childhood friends 
growing up, and I hoped that skill would pay off now. My 
head felt dizzy now, things becoming black all around me 
as the car belched and spit out gases and air from...the 
trunk? Yes, of course!

I grabbed onto the back seat of the car, feeling around 
blindly for the switch that I knew would lower the seat 
and open up into the trunk. My hand finally touched onto 
a hard piece of plastic and I yanked, pulling hard. The 
pressure inside the car fought me, but after a moment I 
was able to get the seat down and see inside the pitch 
black of the trunk. I jammed my body halfway in, seeing 
that the trunk had not yet filled totally with water (God 
bless those Germans and their water tight design, I 
thought). I pushed my nose to the surface by the roof of 
the trunk, my face hitting the metal of the inside as I 
inhaled a whiff of life saving air. The water from the 
rest of the car was quickly filling in, gurgling like a 
stream into the air pocket. 

Wedging my whole body now inside the trunk, I felt around 
for what I knew would save me: the child lock in the 
trunk. If I could just open that, whose very design was 
to keep people from suffocating inside of car trunks, I 
could use the force of the air inside to counteract the 
water pressure and hopefully get out. My hand touched it 
and I grabbed hold, pulling. It didn't budge. Frantic 
now, I yanked harder and harder, putting the weight of my 
shoulder against it.

Things were going black now, my lungs on fire like the 
hottest fires of hell, and my body began to feel weak and 
tired, as if I had no energy left. Determined, I kept 
focused not on the pain that had spread from my lungs to 
my chest and legs, but onto the effort of pushing against 
the trunk. Finally, just as I was about to lose 
conscience completely, I felt a pulling on the other side 
of the trunk as the buoyancy that was left in the car, 
combined with my shoving and jostling, opened the trunk 
door. 

By now there was nowhere else for the water to go and 
once the trunk was opened, the pressure seemed to 
magically disappear. Inspired by my success, I wriggled 
out from the trunk and into the open water. I could make 
out the faint light of the moon above me, which meant 
that I was not too deep in the water. Kicking my legs 
like crazy, I moved agonizingly slowly up to the surface 
of the water.

Feet seemed to pass like miles as I raced as hard as I 
could, my last bit of energy spent on moving upwards 
towards the surface. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl 
as I kept my eyes focused above me, the pain of the water 
rushing against them, the salt from the sea stinging each 
and every nerve cell, almost unbearable. The light became 
more and more clear now and I couldn't tell if I was near 
the surface or dying. Still I kicked.

A second later, just as the last strength in my legs 
escaped me, my head broke the surface. I gasped deep, 
rich breaths of air, my body feeling as if it was without 
any weight. I thrust my arms to the surface and treaded 
water with strength I didn't know I had. A wave crashed 
on top of me, plunging my head back under for a second, 
but I held on and fought, pulling myself back to the 
surface. Blinking my eyes rapidly, I tried to get my 
bearings to see how far from shore I was. 

Off in the distance, I saw a series of rocks jutting from 
the water and began to half swim, half float to them, the 
strength of the waves carrying me most of the way. I 
reached them within a few strokes and my hands brushed 
over the slimy surface of their jagged edge as my fingers 
wrapped tightly onto them, clinging desperately. The rock 
I had flung myself onto was big, it's point sticking out 
about three feet over the waves. The neighboring rocks 
around it were also quite large and I noticed one with a 
smooth, flat surface to it. Letting go of the one I held 
to, I made my way slowly to it. 

I managed to get my foot onto a jutting crevice beneath 
it, my heavy leather shoes providing very little 
traction. I climbed upwards onto it and collapsed onto 
the base, my fingers hugging the other side tightly.

My jaw ached and my fingers were red and bloody from the 
encounter with the rocks, the stinging water and it's 
coldness making them throb, but I knew I had made it. I 
was alive.

*

I don't know how long I clung to that rock, or how I made 
it to shore, nor do I remember waking up in the hospital, 
my mouth numb from pain medicine and my body wrapped 
tightly in blankets to get warm. Opening my eyes was an 
effort in and of itself, but I was glad that when I did 
open them, I saw Damon, my assistant, standing there.

"Hey man, you're awake," he said. He was sitting in a 
chair near the bed, his clothes looking like he had slept 
in them.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"You're in a hospital just outside of Santa Monica. Some 
surfers found you this morning, passed out on some rocks 
and they took you to shore. Lucky for you they were 
considerate enough to say it was an accident and not let 
the police know about what happened. Your jaw was 
bleeding pretty badly and the doctor says you lost three 
of your back teeth, but at least you are alive," he said 
cravenly. They must have found my wallet and called the 
office. I'm sure that when they couldn't reach anyone, 
they called Damon, who was one of the emergency contacts 
in case anything happened to the agency.

Feeling around in my mouth with my tongue, which felt 
heavy and thick, I noticed the gap he was talking about. 
Two teeth were missing in the very back of my mouth on 
the left side and one on the right. I must have knocked 
them out when I hit the roof right as the car splashed 
down.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked groggily. My mind 
was beginning to unfog as I tried to remember what had 
happened to get me here.

"Well, you were in shock when they brought you in, 
screaming like a banshee the doctor said, so they gave 
you some morphine and knocked you out. How do you feel?" 
Damon asked.

"I feel like shit. But I'll make it through. What about 
the cops? What do they know about the people who sent me 
into the water?" I asked.

"Cops? No one even knows what happened yet, it happened 
too late last night. We don't even know how you got into 
the water in the first place. Unless of course, you'd 
like to TELL me what happened," Damon said, his face 
showing that he was eager to know more.

I proceeded to recount as best as I could remember the 
details of what happened: How after leaving the office 
following a wonderful night with Julia Stiles, I followed 
a guy who had been sneaking around the office. And how he 
had called me on my cell phone (something I still didn't 
know how he got) and then how I had been run off the road 
and barely managed to escape from the car.

Damon's face had turned ashen almost, taking in every 
detail with a look of shock and confusion and anger.

"So who do you think it was? Why would someone try to 
kill you like that? I mean, no offense man, but you 
aren't anybody THAT famous," Damon said, standing up now 
and pacing the room as he lost himself in thought.

"That my friend is the $64,000 question. When I get out 
of here, I'm going to set out to figure that out," I 
said, trying to sit up in the bed. Damon rushed over to 
stop me.

"No, no, hey bro take it easy. The doctor said you can 
leave first thing in the morning but he wants you to stay 
the night just in case there was any kind of internal 
damage. Let me go get him in here and you can explain 
what happened," Damon said, walking out the door.

I collapsed back onto the sterile pillow of the bed, the 
drabness of the room sedative in it's decorum. The doctor 
and Damon returned in a few minutes and after mentioning 
the part about being run off the road, the doctor called 
for the one duty police officer in the hospital to come 
and take my statement. By the time I finished telling the 
story for the third time, I was exhausted. Damon told me 
that he would let me get some sleep and left me alone in 
the room flicking off the light as I slipped off into a 
drug induced dream.

*

The next day, after checking myself out from the 
hospital, I returned to the office, determined to find 
out what happened. I was surprised when I arrived to find 
that the entire staff had gotten me one of those 
oversized novelty cards and signed it. And on top of 
that, Damon presented me with a normal size card, adorned 
with signatures from some of the firms best and brightest 
clients.

"I acted discreetly about this, getting as many as I 
could last night. I didn't want to tell anyone why you 
were in the hospital so that it didn't sneak into the 
papers again like what happened with Natalie. So I just 
told them you were sick," Damon whispered as he handed me 
the card.

"Thanks man, I really appreciate that. But right now, I 
want to get to the bottom of this thing," I said as I 
walked quickly into my office.

"Uh Dean," Damon called to me as I opened the door.

"What?" I said, stepping in and in the process bumping 
right into and knocking over Alyson Hannigan.

"Oh! Geez Alyson, I didn't see you standing there! Damon, 
why didn't you tell me that she was in my office?" I 
said, shooting him a scowl from across the room as I bent 
down to help her up.

"I tried to. But you didn't slow down," he said. I shot 
him another dirty look but then returned my attention to 
Alyson.

"I'm terribly sorry," I said as I helped her to her feet. 

"That's ok. I heard you outside but I shouldn't have even 
been waiting in your office in the first place. That's 
what waiting rooms are for I guess," Alyson said 
sheepishly.

"No, don't worry about it," I said as I made my way to my 
desk. "I'd ask you to come in and have a seat but we've 
already taken care of that part I think. Now, to what do 
I owe this privilege?"

"Well, I had made an appointment with you last week. 
Damon said this was the only time you were available. So 
I get up early and drive all the way here to see you and 
then he tells me that you were in the hospital all night! 
Are you okay?" she asked, a look of concern on her face. 
Alyson wore a jean jacket with a white t-shirt underneath 
and a pair of black Capri pants. Her short red hair was 
pulled back behind her ears.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Just a little late getting in, 
that's all," I lied. Part of me was putting up my 
business front while another part of my mind was still 
stuck fiddling with the puzzle in my head over what 
happened yesterday.

"You sure? Your face looks a little, well, swollen," she 
said, pointing to my right cheek. I ran a hand over it 
and it was a little hard and puffy I could tell.

"Yeah, it's no problem. I just had some trouble with my 
jaw. Any ways, what's up?" I asked, changing the subject.

"I came to ask for your advice on my career," she said 
with a deep breath.

"Well, I'm your agent. That's what I'm here for. You want 
off of Buffy, is that it?" I asked, shuffling some paper 
work on my desk but not really paying attention to her.

"No, I love 'Buffy' and being on the show and all that. I 
was talking more about my film career. I want to do more 
movies, but I'm afraid that I'm going to be type cast as 
the 'One time, at band camp...' girl," she said. Her legs 
were crossed and she bounced an ankle up and down on her 
thigh. I had seen many women do this before - it meant 
that they had something on their mind and they were 
determined to do it.

"Ok. But Alyson, those movies aren't exactly a bad thing. 
They've made almost $500 million combined in box office 
receipts alone. Do you know what kind of power that has 
when I go to the bargaining table with a studio? It's 
tremendous," I said to her.

"I know that. And again, they are a lot of fun to do. But 
I want something else. I want something deeper, something 
besides a catch phrase and a running gag," she said.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well, something more dramatic. Something more...sexy," 
she said, shaking her head in self agreement with what 
she had just said.

"Sexy? Alyson, I hate to be the one to break it to you, 
but you've only gotten into this business as far as you 
have not because you are sexy. You're cute, your 
attractive. You have that girl-next-door look going for 
you. Sorry, but Sarah Gellar is the type who exudes 
sexiness. Not you, not in the roles you have done so far 
in your career," I said. I hated being so blunt, but 
sometimes stars egos get out of control and they think 
that they can do any kind of role.

Alyson looked shocked - as if someone had just killed her 
beloved puppy or something. She stood up from her chair 
furiously.

"You! You can't say that...you're my agent! You can't...I 
mean, I'm...don't tell me...I am too sexy!" she said, the 
anger in her voice rising. Her copper red hair flew 
wildly around her head, her face turning a deep shade of 
red in her anger and frustration, her high cheek bones 
and freckles looking like spotted apples.

"Alyson, calm down. I've had a rough past 24 hours. I 
didn't mean to be so harsh on you, it's just...I have a 
lot on my mind, that's all,"

Alyson sighed to herself and I could tell she was mulling 
over if I was being honest or not. "I wish you could tell 
me why things were so rough, but Damon out there said 
that it was a personal problem. Regardless, I still can't 
believe you don't think I could pull off a sexy role. 
Didn't you see my pictures in FHM?"

"Yes, I did. And that was quite the interview you gave. 
But again, it all comes down to how the audience 
perceives you. Buffy fans wouldn't have a problem with it 
I'm sure, but the rest of the general public I'm not so 
sure about. And to get those kind of vamp roles, you have 
to be sure about it or else the studios will go with 
someone else," I said to her, reclining back in my chair. 
My jaw and head throbbed mercilessly and though I enjoyed 
Alyson's company, I simply wasn't in the mood to get into 
a long argument with a star over her roles.

"Hmm...well, I'll tell you what. Why don't you come over 
to my place tonight. I'll fix you dinner and then I'll 
show you how sexy I can be," Alyson said with a wry smile 
as her fingers danced invitingly over the leather of the 
chair she sat in.

I pondered the invitation for a moment - my mind and most 
of my body said to just go home and recuperate, but as 
always my dick had other ideas. "Alright. What time?" I 
said with a half smile, half sigh.

"Let's say 7:00. You have my address in your Rolodex, 
right?" she said. I nodded. "Great! Ok, I'll see you 
then. Oh and Dean, it would be very gentlemanly of you to 
bring some wine you know,"

"I'll see what I can do. See you at 7:00," I replied as 
Alyson walked out of the office, her hips swishing as she 
walked. Was she really not cut out for a sexy role? I 
honestly didn't know. I knew that tonight though, I'd 
find out.

*

That afternoon, I busied myself with a mountain of 
contracts and submitted forms by wanna-be actors and 
actresses. It was incredible the amount of girls that 
came in and left their resumes. Girls of all colors, 
dispositions and types - black, white, Asian, thin, 
voluptuous, runway model thin, brown hair, blond hair, 
black hair, GREEN hair...after a while, they all started 
to look alike. Part of me felt bad that most of these 
women would try so hard to get into the business and yet 
never make it.

Some would return home heartbroken; others would wind up 
staying in town, finding another wanna-be actor (or 
actress) and shack up together, further expanding LA's 
population. And even a handful ended up in the adult film 
world, making pornos for the quick money that it brought 
about.

And yet, here I was in the middle of everything, knee 
deep in some of the hottest stars and I hadn't done a 
damn thing to earn it. The accident the night before had 
put things in perspective - maybe I needed a change of 
scene. Maybe I needed something new and fresh. But now 
was not a good time, I couldn't just walk away. Not with 
so much to do and so many people depending on me...

I rubbed my temples and traced my hand over my jaw, 
feeling the slight swelling that made my cheek puffy. I 
had downed four Advil just a half hour earlier and was 
still waiting on it to kick in. Around 2:00 though, Damon 
came in and sat down and gave me something else to think 
about besides my busted mouth and the meaning of the 
Hollywood business.

"Dean, I have an idea. I think I know how we can find out 
more info about those guys that tried to kill you last 
night," Damon said excitedly.

"Oh yeah? How's that?" I asked.

"Well, a few years ago my roommate in college kept 
getting these weird calls from this guy in the middle of 
the night, saying some really bizarre things. At first we 
thought it was funny but then the guy kept doing it, 
every night, at different times. So we got his phone 
number through star 69, but every time we tried to call 
HIM, there was no answer. When the calls kept on coming, 
my friend finally just got pissed off and hired a private 
investigator. Within a few hours, the guy had given us 
his address, name, where he worked and his license plate 
number. We waited for the guy to get home and I think 
scared him a little and the calls stopped. And it's all 
due to the PI," Damon said.

"That's great man, but I don't think that the description 
I could give would be enough to let him track it down. We 
should probably just call the police," I said.

"I thought you didn't want them getting involved because 
it was too high profile?" Damon asked. He had me there, I 
had forgotten about the buzz it might cause if some cop 
said something to his kids about it.

"You're right. Hmmm...have you got this investigator's 
number?" I said.

"Right here," Damon replied, handing me a small business 
card. It read FRANK MCALLISTER - INVESTIGATOR and gave a 
phone number and email address, although surprisingly no 
office location.

"Thanks. I'll give him a call in a bit," I said. Damon 
headed out of the office: "Don't mention it. Just trying 
to help,"

I played with the card in my hands for a few minutes, 
thinking about what he said. This guy might know his 
stuff, but could he really hunt down the two thugs who 
ran me off the road based solely on my description of 
them and their cars? It was worth a shot I suppose - if 
they knew I was still alive, they might come after me a 
little bit harder next time and I might as well get the 
jump on THEM.

I dialed the number, letting it ring six or seven times. 
I was two rings away from hanging up and telling Damon he 
gave me the wrong number when a gruff voice, almost 
identical to the ones you imagine a private detective 
would have, answered. "What?" he said.

"Is this Frank McAllister?" I said. 

"Yea, that's me. What do you want?" he said hoarsely. I 
could only imagine what this guy looked like.

"I was referred to you by one of your past clients. Well, 
not your client exactly, more of a friend of,"

"Get to the point. You've got my number, now what do you 
want?" he interrupted. I resented being interrupted, but 
I hoped that meant that he wanted to get straight down to 
business.

"Well, I had an incident last night with two men who 
tried to kill me and I need your help in tracking them 
down. The problem is, I have no idea who they were. Can 
you help?" I asked.

"Maybe. Give me their description and everything that 
happened," McAllister said. I spent the next ten minutes 
reciting (for the third time) the whole scenario and what 
had happened, straining to remember everything I could 
about the incident. The entire time I was greeted by 
silence on the other end and when I finished, I thought 
he had hung up, or at the very least was ignoring me.
	
"Uh-huh. Is that all?" he finally said. "Anything else 
you can remember?"

"No, that's it. I just got out of the hospital this 
morning and," I said, abbreviating my spiel because of 
his apparent distaste for long-windedness.

"Alright. Let me get your name and number and I should 
have something for you in a few hours," McAllister said 
with a heavy sigh. It seemed like it was a strain to him 
just to hold a conversation with me.

"Well, I'll be at home probably by the time you call, so 
call me there. 555-0417. And my name is Dean,"

"Ok Dean, I'll give you a call when I learn anything. We 
can discuss payment at that point," McAllister said, 
hanging up without so much as a goodbye. I glanced at the 
phone in bewilderment, wondering if I'd ever get anything 
out of this.

*

That night I headed out to Alyson's house, borrowing one 
of the company cars to get there. Alyson lived alone, in 
a fairly normal upper middle class neighborhood not too 
far from a lot of the happening places in LA. Her house 
was a two-story pueblo design, the exterior a soft mix of 
pastel oranges and greens. Anyone who happened to drive 
by would hardly assume it was home to such a rising star 
as Alyson, but I think that she wanted to keep things 
that way - to stay normal and "connected" to the roots of 
the rest of society. 

She had left the porch light on for me, as well as a note 
inside the handle of the door: "Dean, come in. I'm 
upstairs taking a shower." the note read. Following her 
advice, I stepped inside. I was immediately overwhelmed 
by the wafting scent of food being prepared, some sort of 
baked chicken with a hint of spices to it from the smell. 

I made my way to the kitchen and saw that Alyson had set 
out a plate for each of us and that a pan of the chicken 
I had smelled was cooling in the middle of the table. 
Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned around and was 
amazed to find Alyson standing there.

Wearing just a light purple silk robe that barely covered 
up to her thighs, Alyson's red hair hung wetly by her 
shoulders. She wore no make up, but didn't need it - the 
heat of the shower was enough to bring out the cute 
freckles on her face, giving her face a rosy glow. The 
overhead light of the kitchen hit her copper red hair at 
just the right angle, giving her the appearance of a 
fiery lioness, ready to devour her freshly fallen prey.

"Hi Dean! I'm so happy you decide to come and that you 
read my note," Alyson said, planting a quick kiss on my 
cheek. Her skin and body smelled soft and clean, the soap 
of the shower giving off a slight perfume like smell that 
was almost dizzying. 

"I'd never miss a meal with a client Alyson, so you 
shouldn't have worried about that," I said, taking a seat 
at the table. She joined me across the way and we began 
to eat. The chicken was delicious - a tangy herbal lemon 
flavoring added to the chicken breast to give it just the 
right amount of moistness. With it came wild rice, mixed 
and served with freshly sliced onions and peppers. On top 
of that was a helping of steamed green beans and corn. 
All of this Alyson made herself and as I remarked to her 
upon finishing, it was absolutely exquisite.

"I'm glad you liked it. Cooking was a hobby for me as a 
little girl and, well since this acting thing took off, I 
don't have as much time to do it. So I enjoy those rare 
chances I get to prepare food for anyone," Alyson said. 
"Would you like some champagne?"

I nodded and she brought the bottle over, holding it in 
her hands, the mouth facing me.

"Would you open this? I always have the hardest time 
getting these damn things open," Alyson said, gripping 
the base of the bottle. I twisted in the corkscrew and 
pulled hard. For a second, I thought the cork wouldn't 
budge, but then with a loud POP it came out. The force of 
it startled Alyson and she jumped back instinctively. For 
just a split second I could see the faintest tip of her 
nipple poke out through her shirt as her small breasts 
jiggled with the sudden movement. And then like that it 
was gone. 

I must have been staring because I didn't notice that the 
champagne was starting to bubble up and out, a small 
trickle hitting the floor.

"Oops! Here, get your glass," Alyson said with a laugh as 
she lifted the bottle upright, taking a drink straight 
from the dark green glass to catch the slight overflow. I 
held out my glass as well as hers and she poured us both 
some drinks. We talked for a while, cracking jokes about 
mutual Hollywood friends and the like, but no matter how 
hard I tried I couldn't get the image of her nipple out 
of my head. Not wanting to seem over eager, I acted as if 
nothing had happened.

Within half an hour we had moved out to the living room, 
where Alyson had kept the lights dim and had some soft 
jazz playing in the background. Alyson had finished her 
third glass of champagne and was getting quite tipsy, her 
words starting to slur a little as she spoke.

"You know, I bet that Sarah Michelle is a slut. I bet she 
wants it and gets it all the time from Freddie," Alyson 
said, waving her glass around a little erratically. I had 
seen this before - stars getting trashed and then bad 
mouthing friends. Most of the time it was never an issue 
but more often than not I had diffused many a situation 
over the phone between two pissed off women.

"Oh, I seriously doubt that. From what I hear, she 
doesn't have sex that much at all. Freddie apparently 
isn't...umm, well I think that they are both really 
busy," I said to her. (If only she knew the truth!)

"Bullshit! I'll believe that when pigs fly!" Alyson said, 
finishing off her glass. There was an awkward pause in 
the room, the music becoming more clear now in the still 
silence.

Trying to get the conversation started again and to try 
and figure out why I was there to see how "sexy" she was, 
I said "Well Alyson, I better get going. It's been a long 
day,"

I stood up, but Alyson jumped to her feet, the sudden 
movement making her giggle a little.

"No! You can't go! I didn't show you how sexy I am!" 
Alyson said, her face showing signs of sobering up. My 
guess at this point now was that whatever she had planned 
had made her very nervous and she needed some liquid 
courage to get through it.

"Well, I don't know. I mean, it's pretty late and I have 
to be in the office in the morning and all," I said, 
feigning an excuse. The image of her nipple now raced 
through my head and I couldn't get it out. The air was 
filled with some kind of electric excitement, like a 
charge right before a lighting strike when you just KNOW 
that something is going to happen any second now. That's 
how things felt now in the room as Alyson swayed a little 
on her feet in front of me.

"No, no, no! You STAY! I'll be right back. Trust me, 
you'll be happy that you stayed," Alyson said, bounding 
off around the corner and up the stairs to her bedroom. 
Still keeping up my fake disinterest, I called to her 
"Ok, I'll be right here. But hurry up!"

I sat back down on the couch and closed my eyes, 
listening to the music. It was so soothing and relaxing 
and with the combination of the wine and the gourmet 
meal, I felt very calm.

I heard some loud thumping coming from upstairs as Alyson 
came down quickly. She stopped behind the corner and I 
saw her arm poke out, holding onto a remote. With the 
push of a button, the lights in the living room dimmed 
almost completely out, and the music on the CD player 
changed to a fast thumping rock song.

"Close your eyes Dean!" Alyson called from around the 
corner. "If you don't close them, I'm not going to do 
it,"

Obliging now, I closed my eyes and laid my head back on 
the couch once more. I heard Alyson moving some stuff 
around in front of me, the heavy dragging of the coffee 
table being moved out of the way. Still keeping my eyes 
closed, the music seemed to get louder. I heard a few 
more brief moments of movement and then Alyson was 
standing in front of me, a few feet away.

"Ok, ready!" she bubbled excitedly. Opening my eyes, my 
jaw almost dropped from what I saw. In the middle of the 
floor was a pole about 8 or 9 feet tall, sticking 
straight up in the air and coming just an inch or two 
short of the ceiling. The pole was held up by a smooth, 
heavy looking base made out of some kind of metal or 
something. In the dim light of the room, the goldness of 
the pole glistened and seemed to beckon me to come 
closer. I wouldn't have had to go far - next to the pole, 
no less than 2 feet away was a folding chair, sitting 
directly in front of the pole. And of course, standing 
next to the pole with one hand on her hip and her back 
arched a little, her other hand on the pole itself, was 
Alyson.

She had shed the robe now in favor of something far more 
erotic - a lace black bra (a push-up bra I could tell, as 
her breasts seemed to almost double now from the glimpse 
I had seen), a pair of thigh high black leather boots and 
one of the skimpiest pairs of panties I had ever seen. 
The material was see-through, but due to the unfortunate 
lack of light in the room, I really couldn't see much of 
anything beyond the faint shape of her sex.

"Well, don't just stand there! Come over here and have a 
seat!" Alyson said, curling her finger out at me as she 
motioned for me to come over. She seemed like a 
completely different person now - indeed quite sexy, but 
also full of some kind of raw sexuality that indeed did 
just seem to spill forth from her lithe, milky pale skin.

I walked slowly over to the chair as Alyson held her 
place - I was now just a few inches from her and I 
realized she hadn't moved when I came over. The slight 
brushing against her I had done, the radiating eroticism 
between us, served all the more to excite her (and me as 
well).

I sat down in the chair and glanced up at Alyson - the 
chair was low to the ground, but Alyson's boots had given 
her about a 3 inch boost in height. She looked down at 
me, her green eyes a fire with excitement.

"Now you can see how sexy I really can be," she said. 
With a sudden movement of her hand, she threw my legs 
apart so that I was sitting with my legs on both sides of 
the chair - a perfect position for her to move and grind 
in front of me. Content that I was in place, Alyson 
turned and walked around to the back side of the pole. It 
was then that I noticed that she was wearing a thong, one 
that rode straight up her ass, allowing her toned, firm 
ass cheeks to be clearly pronounced in front of me.

Hitting a button on the remote that she still grasped, 
Alyson changed tracks on the music to a more urban, bass 
heavy beat. It was some kind of jungle/techno mixture 
thing, with no lyrics but a whole lot of synthesizers and 
drums. Of course, I only paid attention to this for a 
second: what happened next was guaranteed to hold my 
attention.

With one quick half-leap, half-climb, Alyson mounted onto 
the pole, wrapping her legs around the steel so that they 
met at the knees on the other side. Clicking her big 
heels together, she tightened her legs firmly on the pole 
and pulled the rest of her body towards it, grasping 
tightly with her thighs. Flinging her head back sexily, 
Alyson held her body against the pole as she slowly slid 
down a little. But just as quick as she fell, Alyson had 
scooted back up, her ass bouncing sexily as she moved and 
very slightly made her way in a sort of falling rotation 
around the pole. 

Pulling herself up by her arms, Alyson held herself in 
the air and slowly pulled her legs off of the pole, just 
enough to stick them out in front of me as she pushed her 
knees back together and arched and moved her legs with 
the beat of the music. This maneuver took a lot of work I 
could tell, seeing Alyson's muscles in her whole body 
becoming taught and tight as she shifted around and then 
wrapped her legs back around the pole.

Turning her back to me now, Alyson leaned her head around 
her shoulder and gave me a quick wink and a gorgeous 
smile and then moved her head back away. She moved an arm 
back behind her now, unclasping her bra and very slowly 
letting the straps fall away from her shoulders. With a 
quick shimmy, she let the garment fall from her body 
completely and hit the floor. Alyson, still a little 
reluctant and nervous, kept to her plan and turned around 
on the pole, placing her feet back on the ground as she 
spun. I got my first real look at Alyson's breasts then, 
and they were indeed just as lovely as the glimpse I had 
already stolen.

Freckled slightly just like the rest of her ivory skinned 
body, Alyson's nipples were a surprising dark reddish 
blush color, far deeper in shade than the hair on her 
head. She had medium sized breasts, a middle b-cup by my 
estimates. With nothing to cover the top of her body now 
and a pair of panties that barely even covered the rest, 
Alyson's true womanly figure took shape - she was petite 
and well rounded, with curved hips that accentuated the 
rest of her body perfectly, her legs smooth and shapely 
as they descended down into the darkness of the boots. 
Alyson smiled at me nervously as my eyes roamed up and 
down her body, but there must have been something on my 
face that was comforting because she set back into the 
routine she had planned, the momentary interruption 
making her forget what she was doing. 

Mounting the pole (so to speak) again, she began twirling 
around it at a quickly increasing pace, just trying to 
get going fast enough to lift her legs up and manage to 
scoot up the pole about two feet in the air. Turning to 
face me from the other side of the pole, Alyson watched 
me sexily as she slowly slid down it, letting the cool 
metal rub in between her breasts. Her nipples poked out 
tautly from her body, the tips pressing against the metal 
as she slowly slid down it a few inches. The music was 
going heavily now at a much faster pace and this seemed 
to encourage Alyson along, make her want to speed up the 
exquisite, professional quality pole dancing she was 
doing. 

Grasping the pole with one hand, she slowly and 
seductively slid the thumb on her left hand down to the 
waist band of her panties. With an agonizingly deliberate 
pace, the material seemed to trickle down her legs, first 
past her thighs, then to her knees and finally landing on 
the floor. Alyson now clutched the pole completely naked, 
her pussy hidden cleverly by the pole covering it. 
Spinning around again, Alyson's back now faced me, her 
legs clutching tightly onto the metal as she flexed in 
and out her ass cheeks. I could make out the soft shape 
of her mound between her legs, her inner lips opening and 
closing as she worked her buttock muscles.

With one final twirl, Alyson spun around the pole and 
held herself up prostrate on the pole, her entire nude 
and lithe body now facing me. Supporting her body with 
just her arms, she unveiled the climax of the show - 
opening her legs wide now, I got a perfect view of her 
cunt. She had freshly shaved it, probably right before I 
arrived and with her legs spread I could see the true 
beauty of her snatch. She was indeed a natural red hair, 
her sparse pubic hair a dark crimson red that seemed to 
blaze like fire in contrast to her body.

"So, do you think I'm sexy now?" Alyson said throatily, 
her voice deepening as she held herself on the pole, her 
eyes ablaze with sexual excitement. I could only nod.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked, opening and closing 
her legs to reveal and hide, reveal and hide her 
moistening sex. I again nodded and stood up a little to 
unbuckle my pants and slide them down my legs to my 
ankles. This brought a grin to Alyson's face as she saw 
my fully erect, 9 inch cock laying directly on my 
stomach, the tension and excitement of what was to come 
making it twitch a little.

Sliding down the pole towards me, I sat in the chair 
again and watched as Alyson moved from supporting herself 
on the pole to placing her thighs on top of my own, her 
body slowly coming to rest on my lap. She had her legs 
spread still and as she dismounted the pole completely, I 
held my dick out for her open lips to ease onto.

The fluidity of it was amazing and swift - Alyson's lips 
opened slowly as first the head of my prick, then inch by 
inch more and more became engulfed by her moist 
womanhood. Wrapping her arms around my neck, my cock 
buried itself completely in her now, her pubic bone 
coming to rest on my crotch.

Leaning into me tightly, she shuddered a bit, an orgasm, 
as she exhaled and turned herself over into my arms.

"I also cum so deliciously when I dance like that. But I 
want more - give me all you've got Dean," Alyson 
whispered into my ear. Placing my hands around her tight 
bottom, kneading the cheeks in my hands, I began to move 
her up and down my cock, her body moving in rhythm to my 
pace as she propped herself up by herself, letting inch 
by inch of my meat slide in and out of her. She gasped as 
we slowly made love, feeling and savoring every inch of 
me. I too was incredibly enchanted by this erotic 
situation, losing myself in the tightness of her twat. 
Alyson was an expert lover, knowing exactly what to do 
and how to get it done to make both of us reach the 
highest levels of pleasure possible.

We continued our pace like that for a few minutes, but it 
grew increasingly uncomfortable, so I stood up from the 
chair. Alyson wrapped her muscular and fit legs around my 
waist, scissoring my cock inside of her as we moved from 
the chair to the floor. I laid her down on her back 
gently and lifted her legs up, resting her knees on my 
shoulders. This allowed me greater access to her pussy, 
and I drilled into her faster now, feeling myself 
bottoming out inside of her with every deep thrust I 
gave.

Alyson was no longer the quiet and sensual girl she had 
been when we started - now she seemed to have transformed 
into a sex starved animal, urging me on as I sawed in and 
out of her pussy.

"Oh yeah! God! Don't stop! Ooooo, fuck me harder Dean! 
Fuck my pussy!" she wailed as I continued to fuck her. I 
felt her tremble beneath me again as she climaxed around 
me, her cunt now moist and sopping wet from our love 
making. I leaned my mouth down to hers and kissed her 
gently on the lips. But Alyson wanted nothing gentle now 
- she forced her tongue into my mouth, the tiny pinkness 
of it like a writhing snake as we explored each other's 
mouths. I moved my hand up to her breasts and fondled 
them in my hand, enjoying the small but incredibly soft 
feel of them. Pushing her left breast up, Alyson broke 
the kiss and licked her nipple with a flick of her 
tongue, her green eyes afire as she gave herself over to 
the sex.

Propping her up some, I now laid down on my back and let 
Alyson's strong legs do the work as she lowered herself 
on and off of me, letting my cock move around inside of 
her as she would grind it around. I felt the shaft of my 
prick brush against her clit many times and I knew from 
the sheer heat given off between her legs that she was on 
fire with the desire of the moment.

Alyson lifted herself off of me completely now, but just 
for a moment as she spun around backwards and rode me - 
cowgirl style. Her legs were bent at the knees across my 
waist as she moved like a woman possessed, bucking and 
grinding in the air around me, her sweaty red hair flying 
around her face. I gripped onto her ass tightly, running 
a finger up her crack and brushing it lightly against her 
pert asshole. Alyson gasped as the tip of my finger moved 
down between her legs and I rubbed against her mound, 
gently massaging it. This caused her to only bounce on me 
faster and I was forced to remove my hand and place it on 
her hips just to keep her from bouncing off.

The added speed now brought me closer and closer to 
orgasm, and with just a few more thrusts inside of 
Alyson, I felt my cum erupt from my cock, coating her 
inner pussy wall with hot and sticky semen. Alyson's body 
seemed to feel my shots hit inside of her and this caused 
her legs to clamp shut tightly around me, milking my 
prick and holding me in as I pumped load after load 
inside of her. Slowly Alyson's bouncing stopped and her 
body came to a bent rest as she leaned back against me, 
her back pressing against my chest.

Fully spent, my prick shrunk a little and slid out from 
inside her, the shaft from head to base coated in our 
sticky love juices. I held Alyson in my arms for a while 
as we both caught our breath and relaxed, both completely 
content from not only the sex but the great food and the 
warming buzz of the alcohol.

*

As I went to leave an hour or so later, Alyson walked me 
to the door, still naked. Opening the front door, I saw 
her shiver a little as the crisp February air danced 
around her naked body, causing her nipples (which were 
already red from my tongue's work) to harden in the 
night. 

"That was great Dean. I haven't had such a good lay like 
that in a long time," Alyson said, propping herself up in 
the doorway as I stood to leave. "And keep in mind what I 
said about the sexy roles, ok?"

"Alyson, I will tell you one thing that most people never 
hear me admit: I was wrong. You are more sexy than half 
the women on this planet. That thing you do with your 
legs...wow, it's amazing. Don't worry, once I get in 
there with the studio heads, you'll be in a shoo-in for 
whatever role you want to," I said.

Alyson giggled a little as she hugged me tightly, 
planting a soft kiss on my lips. She had returned now to 
the same persona that most of America was familiar with, 
the innocent little girl that everyone seemed to know 
someone who was just like. But what came out of her mouth 
was anything but innocent. "Thank you. And if they have a 
problem with it, tell them I'll suck there cock to prove 
it. I'd love to be there in the boardroom when you offer 
up that option," she said with a gentle whisper, a smile 
across her face as she laughed lightly.

I too laughed and returned the kiss, heading out the 
door. I heard her close it softly behind me, the heavy 
metallic click of the bolt. Getting into my car, I headed 
back out onto the freeway and towards home - a place I 
hadn't been in over 48 hours. I felt more cautious now, 
checking the mirrors more frequently to see if anyone had 
followed me. But it turned out to be my imagination.

However, I was startled back to reality when my phone 
rang, giving me a rushing sense of deja vu. I checked the 
number and it was one that I didn't recognize. My heart 
beating in my chest loudly now, I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Simonds? This is Frank McAllister. I've got some 
information for you. I have the list of guys down to 
three possibilities but I need just a few more details 
from you to give you a solid name. You got a minute?" 
Frank said. It was almost a relief to hear his voice and 
know that he had actually found something that was 
useful.

"Ok, ask away," I replied.

"First off, was the guy you saw a bit chunky or was he 
more built in the shoulders?" Frank asked. I thought 
hard, trying to recall.

"Well, it was dark. But I'm pretty sure he was more toned 
in the upper body, so the second choice," I said.

"Good. Now, next question. When you saw him get away, did 
he have any sort of limp to him, something like say a leg 
he was dragging?" McAllister asked.

"No. Nothing like that. No, this guy was fast, real 
fast," I said as I changed lanes on the interstate. Even 
at 11 at night, traffic was still rather hairy.

"Ok, last question. When the man spoke, did you notice 
any kind of discernable accent? You say you grew up in 
New York so you know what Italians and Russians and all 
those sound like. Did he sound at all like one of those 
guys to you?" Frank said.

This was a real struggle to remember. There had been very 
few words said between us, but I was trying to remember 
if anything had sounded different. It suddenly came back 
to me - when he said "Hope you can swim", or something 
like that, the "you" came out as "youse". Bingo! 
Brooklyn, Italian, East coast accent.

"Yes! Yes he did! I just remembered, he had an Italian 
accent. Not real heavy, but just enough to be 
discernable. Does that help?" I asked excitedly.

"It does. Mr. Simonds, the man you are looking for is 
named Warren Aiello. He's from your native city of New 
York and he's a local goon here in town for some of the 
movie studios, the strip joints, basically anyone who 
will hire him for muscle. He's done a few years for 
assault and battery but nothing too serious. Aiello has 
connections, so I think he beats the wrap most of the 
time. What I can't figure out though is why he was out 
there taking pictures of you," McAllister said gruffly, 
as if this sort of information gathering was boring and 
routine to him. 

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out as 
well," I replied. "Listen, do you have an address or 
somewhere I can go to find this fucker?"

"I do, but I wouldn't recommend that. Aiello is a tough 
character and I know from the kind of gossip and dirt 
that I hear that he doesn't hesitate to take people out. 
They say he has a pretty high tolerance for pain and has 
no remorse for his victims. You suddenly appearing alive 
again to him wouldn't be a good play in my book," 
McAllister said. He sounded a little afraid of this 
Aiello character himself, but that didn't bother me. I 
wanted to get to the bottom of this and more 
specifically, to get revenge.

"I'll take that under consideration. Tell me where he's 
at and I'll double whatever I'm paying you now," I said 
to him.

"You haven't paid me one God-damned nickel yet. That's 
another reason I called. So until you pay me," McAllister 
said, sliding into his hardball mode.

"Look, this isn't a bargaining table. You call my office 
in the morning, ask for Damon. He will pay you 
handsomely, I'm sure of it. Now just tell me this guy's 
address and we can consider this transaction complete, at 
least on my end,"

McAllister sighed and then read off a card: "3516 Ocean 
Valley Drive. It's in Los Angeles, near South Central. 
But unless you are packing, I wouldn't recommend going 
down there. There are far worse characters out than 
Aiello this time of night,"

"Again, I'll take that into consideration," I said as I 
committed the address to memory. I knew roughly where 
that was and in fact was on the exact right road to 
getting there. "Thank you for your help, I will speak to 
you in the morning," I said, hanging up the phone before 
he could get another word in.

I drove like a bat out of hell, dodging and weaving in 
and out of traffic. Even if there had been anyone 
following me, they surely wouldn't have been able to keep 
up. Within a few minutes I was rolling onto the North end 
of Ocean Valley, driving just slow enough to read the 
addresses but not too slow to risk getting car jacked. 
Reaching into the glove compartment, I pulled out my 9mm. 
I had Damon bring it from my house when I was still in 
the hospital, not wanting to take any risks if the people 
who wanted me dead found out I wasn't.

I drove through a decrepit and blinking yellow light, 
swinging from one broken wire over the street. The 
neighborhood was like a ghost town, only a few people out 
walking around on the streets and I knew McAllister was 
right: they weren't the kind you wanted to mess with. A 
few of them watched me drive past, staring at my car and 
trying to gauge if it was worth their trouble. Up ahead 
at an intersection I spotted the building that I was 
looking for: 3516.

It was an abandoned and old factory or warehouse like 
structure, it's massive roof jutting out a good story or 
two above the nearest building. There was a parking lot 
for a closed down gas station just across the street. I 
pulled into it and switched off my lights. I slowly got 
out of the car, not really expecting it to be there when 
I got back (and yet I locked it anyways). 

Heading towards the building, I paused in front of it. It 
was dark and desolate looking except for one light on in 
the very top window, the faint yellow pale of it 
disappearing into the bleakness of the night. I stood in 
front of the doorway inside: it was an old office 
complex, probably abandoned in the '50s. But the front 
door had been torn off and I could make out a flight of 
rickety looking stairs just inside the entryway.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.


TO BE CONTINUED...


Chapter 26: Reese Witherspoon


Thanks for reading! Send me feedback at: 
carnagejackson@hotmail.com 

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It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
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