The San Francisco Seven 2: The Capture

Click to this video!

The story continues…

Eight million dollars.

Seven thieves.

Three hostages.

No time.

The gang has escaped with the money, but with alliances and arguments in the team, the FBI on their trail, and mastermind Rhona Mitra still out there, it’s only a matter of time before the party comes to an end…

Roselyn Sanchez, Jaime Pressly, Shay Mitchell, Blake Lively, Emma Roberts, Grace Park, Megan Fox, JoAnna Garcia, Lucy Hale, Hayden Panettiere, Troian Bellisario, Ashley Benson, Tammin Sursok, Beverley Mitchell, Kristen Bell, Isabel Lucas and Jessica Biel;

With guest appearances by Malin Akerman, Reiko Aylesworth, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Monica Bellucci, Olivia Wilde, Jennifer Lawrence and Rhona Mitra;

in TRL, Victor Field and Evil’s

THE SAN FRANCISCO SEVEN: THE CAPTURE

“Look… you’re a lovely girl, and I really would have gone down to the vault instead of you, but I was drunk that night in college…”

“Did you hate it that time?”

“I was young, I was out of it…”

“But did you hate it?”

JoAnna looked into Shay’s big brown eyes, and shook her head.

End Of Trailer

The San Francisco Seven: The Capture

Written by (in order of appearance) TRL, Victor Field and Evil

* * * * * * * * * *

So here we are, firing the second stage of this rocket; with thanks to Rawballz for kicking it off as ever. Although it should go without saying that these aren’t actually the real people mentioned, and their activities here are purely fictional, and that this is emphatically not aimed at people under the age of 18, we have to bring this all up for disclaimer purposes so… consider it said. Oh, it was? Great.

For those who came in late, criminal mastermind Rhona Mitra brings together semi-retired thief Roselyn Sanchez, emphatically non-retired thief/killer Jaime Pressly, perky computer whiz Grace Park, family criminal Shay Mitchell, teenage safecracker Emma Roberts, professional seductress Blake Lively and demon driver Megan Fox to rob the San Francisco Union Bank and leave a little present (in the form of a computer upload) in the process. When TV reporter Hayden Panettiere gets a tip about the robbery (sent by rival and Mitra employee Ashley Benson to get her out of the way, as Hayden’s colleague and lover Troian Bellisario rightly suspects), she gets kidnapped by the gang, as are bank teller JoAnna Garcia (who may fancy Shay) and schoolteacher Lucy Hale (who’s definitely fancied by Jaime). Leaving several corpses in the wake of their escape (including one at the bank), we join them at the hideout…

* * * * * * * * *

The van arrived outside the abandoned Victoria’s Secret and pretty much died right there on the spot. The muffler dropped off and clattered on the pavement, and one of the axles finally gave out, dropping the front of the battered vehicle down on its front bumper, the two forward tires going in opposite directions.

For a long moment, nothing happened, then a very naked Emma Roberts jumped out of the van, rushed to the nearest trashcan in the alley, and proceeded to throw up.

“It wasn’t THAT bad a trip,” Megan Fox muttered, sliding out of the driver’s side door – but even she was a bit shaky on her feet.

“You did well, Megan,” Roselyn said.

“Sweet, Tats, you got us all here in one piece,” Jaime Pressly said, jumping out the back and looking around with a shit-eating grin on her face. There wasn’t a cop in sight. “Now let’s get upstairs, get our money, and go our separate ways.”

“What about the hostages?” Shay asked, glancing back into the van where Hayden, Lucy and JoAnna all laid, finally secured enough that they couldn’t move.

Jaime checked her gun. “I got three more bullets-”

“NO!” Roselyn snapped. “No more killing, you’ve done too much already.”

“Hey, boss lady, you’re the one who told me to shoot at the cops,” Jaime pointed out.

“No one told you to shoot that guy in the bank,” Blake Lively snarled as she climbed out of the van, Grace Park right behind her.

“Ain’t my fault – and it weren’t my gun he was grabbin’ for, Legs McBlondie,” Jaime said.

“I don’t care!” Roselyn said. “Emma, are you okay?”

“Dramamine,” Emma said, finally lifting her head from the barrel and looking right at Megan. “Next time I ride with you, Dramamine.”

“Whatever,” Megan said. “Why are you naked again?”

“I work better naked!” Emma snapped. “God damn it, I like the freedom of movement, okay?! No clothes getting in the way of my work! I can reach anything I need to!”

“But you aren’t working now,” Grace pointed out.

Emma’s mouth snapped shut. For half a second, a confused look crossed her face, and then she ran for the stairs leading back up to the hideout.

“All right, everyone else, pair up and grab a hostage. Let’s get them upstairs before we’re spotted. Bad enough to have a naked teenager running around with us, three tied up mamacitas isn’t going to help our low profile.”

“Fine,” Jaime said. “But as soon as I get my cut, I’m outta here. As fun as this was, you girls are all a bunch of bitches to work with.”

“Right back at you – so how are we doing this?” Blake asked, looking in at three VERY angry and bound hostages.

* * * * * * * * * *

In the end, the robbers took the hostages up the stairs still tied, each with improvised gags in their mouths, provided from the ripped hemline of Blake’s dress, exposing even more of the blonde’s legs. With the possible exception of Jaime, none of the robbers were all that muscular, but that wasn’t that big a problem, since Lucy and Hayden were tiny little things, and even JoAnna, while several inches taller than either of the other two, wasn’t that much heavier. Roselyn and Jaime hefted the redhead up the stairs, followed by Megan and Grace with Hayden – Grace’s hands placed none-too-subtly upon Hayden’s breasts – and Blake and Shay took little Lucy up last. Had anyone seen them, it would’ve been awfully clear something awful was going on – three bound women being hauled into an abandoned building by six others never looked all that good anyway – but again the robbers’ luck held out, and no one raised a hue and cry before the door was closed behind Shay.

“Okay, where do we put the dead weight?” Jaime asked, looking around the room. Roselyn put down JoAnna’s tied legs and glanced about, realizing there was only two other rooms besides the main one or the bathroom. This really wasn’t a hideout designed for 10 women to hang out in for long – especially if 3 of them didn’t want to be there.

“The closer one,” Roselyn decided quickly. “There’s a bed in there, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma said, coming out of the room in question, now clad in a skin-tight T-shirt and a pair of short-shorts cut so high up on her young legs that the inside of her pockets hung down beneath the frayed, cut-off edges. “But before you throw them in there, I’ve got a question for you – where’s Rhona?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Tammin Sursok hated her job.

She should’ve loved it. After all, she’d gone to school and graduated early with exceptional grades, to work at the FBI. But wunderkinds weren’t exactly the most popular people in the FBI, and so here she was, 6 months out of Quantico, and doing little more than fetching coffee and bringing messages back and forth the San Francisco Officer, about as far away from where she wanted to be as possible.

“Hey, BJ, looking good today,” Agent Smythe remarked as he passed Tammin in the hallway. She sighed – if she hadn’t been carrying a tray of coffees and a bag of bagels in her hands, and carrying a sheaf of important papers in her mouth, she would’ve either said something to him or at least made an obscene gesture or two towards him. Instead, she just took the none-too-subtle comment and went with it.

BJ was her nickname around the office, and she was thankful it had been shortened to just that. Originally, it had been the full moniker of “Blow Job Lips,” given to her by one of the senior agents in the office when Tammin made the mistake of sucking on a straw during one of her meetings. The name had stuck, and for the next two weeks she’d heard every possible blow job joke, scene every possible picture/video of oral sex being performed, and been propositioned by pretty much every guy in the office – and half the girls, too. This WAS San Francisco, after all.

After a while, the nickname had shortened to “BJ Lips” before finally becoming just “BJ,” but she still got emailed dirty videos at least once a week, and got propositioned maybe two or three times a month. Mostly by fellow agents, though occasionally by senior officers who she couldn’t really turn down.

Tammin had considered herself bisexual before coming to San Fran. Now, she hated the taste of sperm so much, she doubted she’d ever date a guy again.

Not that she had much time for dating.

Unlike her immediate boss, that was.

Tammin opened the door to her boss’ office, and wasn’t at all surprised to find her secretary, Beverley, missing from her desk. Tammin’s immediate boss was just as busy as Tammin was, but she made time for dating the old fashion way – by sleeping with her secretary whenever she had the chance. Knowing what she’d find on the other side, but not really caring, Tammin proceeded towards her boss’ door and managed to open it with her pinky finger without losing the bag of bagels.

Sure enough, Tammin’s boss, Jessica Biel, sat upon her desk, her fancy suit coat on the floor, her button-up dress shirt unbuttoned down to her navel, her panty-hose clad legs spread wide beneath her short, short skirt, and her secretary, Beverley, kneeling before the desk, her head between Jessica’s thighs, clearly performing acts on Jessica that could be considered against the FBI’s Inter-Office Dating Regulations.

“Oh, good, Tammin’s here with the coffee,” Jessica said, pushing Beverley away by her chestnut-colored hair. Tammin’s eyes darted to Jessica’s bald pussy, and for half a second, she was insanely jealous of Beverley Mitchell, whose face was coated with Jessica’s juices when she stood up and gave the senior agent room to jump down off her desk.

“Hello, Tammin,” Beverley said, with an all-too-smug look upon her face.

“Good morning, Beverley,” Tammin said after she was able to put the coffees down and pull the files out of her mouth. “Getting an early start this morning?”

“It’s after noon, sweetie,” Beverley said, swatting Tammin’s ass as she walked by to take her seat outside at her desk. “We call this an afternoon delight.”

“Whatever,” Tammin grumbled.

“What’ve you got there?” Jessica asked as she began to re-button her shirt.

“Daily logs from Banks and Delahoy, only three weeks late this time,” Tammin said. “Deputy Director Stevens wants you on a conference call about the recent gun smuggling bust down in LA, and your yearly medical review is in here, too – you aren’t pregnant, in case you were wondering.”

“Thank God,” Jessica said, ignoring the pile of papers Tammin tried to hand her and instead grabbing one of the coffees. “I mean, yeah, it’d have to be an immaculate conception for me to BE knocked up, but I totally don’t have time for a baby right now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tammin said.

“Anything else going on I need to know about?”

“Only that Agent Bell is late for work. Again,” Tammin said, frowning.

“Damn it Kristen,” Jessica said, sipping her coffee. “I swear, if she wasn’t the best in this entire building – and a total hottie – I’d have her transferred to someplace so far off the map, she’d be all alone in her own FBI office. Someplace like Vermont or something.”

“She might enjoy that too much,” Tammin pointed out.

Jessica paused to consider that. “You’re right. Still, get her in here. She’s ever further behind on her paperwork than Banks and Delahoy were.”

“She called in, Miss Biel,” Tammin said. “She said unless we’ve got an actual case for her, she’s busy.”

“Did she get promoted over me or something?” Jessica growled. “Get her in-” She was cut off when Agent Smythe appeared in her doorway, out of breath.

“Got a bank robbery, Biel – one dead at the scene, the robbers got away, shooting up some cop cars along the way. Director Daniels wants you and Bell on it, ASAP.”

Jessica sighed, and glanced at Tammin. “Go tell Bell we’ve actually got a case for her.”

“Yes, Miss Biel,” Tammin said. She didn’t move from her spot.

“Something else, Miss Sursok?” Jessica asked as she grabbed her jacket and smoothed out her clothes.

“Yes, ma’am. I did my primary focus while at The Farm on Organized and Violent Bank Heists. I was hoping I could-”

“Fine, you can tag along,” Biel said. “But mostly because I know Bell won’t get me coffee, and even if she did, I’d never trust her to NOT spit in it. Now go call in our wayward agent. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Oh, fuck yes! Fuck yes! FUCK YES! Fuck me with your big, hard cock Jackson! Fuck me so fucking hard I can’t fucking fuck straight for a fucking week!”

Kristen Bell, FBI Special Agent, currently on assignment in the San Francisco area, smiled as she maneuvered her lithe little body across the bed, feeling the cool air upon her sweaty skin and relishing the sensation. As she slunk across, she laid down next to the man and woman – Jackson and Malin Akerman, respectively – who she was currently spending a VERY fun day with. And by fun, she meant sex. Dirty, nasty, threesome sex where one lucky guy – Jackson – got to have his way with his wife and her new best friend/drinking buddy/lesbian lover, Kristen.

It was, arguably, all in the line of duty, Kristen thought as she watched Jackson’s cock slamming in and out of Malin’s dripping wet cunt. Jackson was a low-level accountant in an organized crime ring so clandestine that Kristen had been hunting for it for the last four years. She knew next to nothing about it, except for the fact that it seemed to be headed by a woman, and Kristen didn’t have any more than a first name for her.

Rhona.

There had been some evidence linking shell corporations possibly linked to Rhona’s supposed organization in San Fran eight months ago, so Kristen had gotten herself reassigned to the homosexual capital of the United States, and spent most of her time since then trying to track down any sort of lead. Jackson and his beautiful wife were the first one she’d managed to find, and when Malin had started coming on to Kristen, she happily accepted, hoping she could bring about this exact situation.

A threesome with Malin’s husband.

Now, as husband and wife fucked like jackrabbits on the bed next to her, Kristen couldn’t help but smile – partly because she was finally getting closer to someone somehow connected to this Rhona woman, and partly because she Malin was so smoking hot that Kristen couldn’t say no to her.

“Mmm, fuck baby, fucking look at Kristen’s fucking ass!” Malin said, actually taking her hands onto Jackson’s face and turning it towards where Kristen lay on her stomach, her bare bubble butt exposed to the air behind her.

“It’s awesome,” Jackson said, drilling his wife even harder.

“Don’t you fucking want to fuck it? Fuck her sweet fucking bubble butt into the fucking ground?”

Kristen swore to herself. She wasn’t a big fan of anal sex from guys – they never got just how they had to move to make a woman climax from anal. Kristen had never orgasmed from anal sex with guys. Only other women, equipped with strap-on cocks had ever gotten Kristen off through the back door.

But still, Jackson was her link, and if it got him to trust her…

Kristen smiled and turned her ass towards Malin and Jackson, wiggling her butt a little in their faces. They separated at once, Jackson kneeling behind Kristen while Malin moved to lay next to her, stopping long enough to kiss Bell on the lips once, passionately. Kristen would’ve much rather continued just making out with the other woman, but Jackson was already lining his cock up with Kristen’s backdoor.

“Be gentle,” was all Kristen had time to eek out before Jackson penetrated her ass, sinking a good couple of inches of his cock into the undercover FBI agent in one swift movement.

“OHFUCK!” Kristen exclaimed, wincing from the pain. Jackson was too much like every other guy who’d taken Kristen up the butt. She sighed to herself as he started to work his way deeper into her. Why couldn’t it be Malin with a strap-on doing this part?

And then her phone rang. She knew it was hers at once from the ring tone, and this time swore aloud. “I’m sorry,” she said, not really meaning it. “I’ve gotta take that.”

“But-” Jackson started to protest, glaring down at his cock, no longer buried in Kristen’s ass.

“Sorry,” she said again, grabbing the phone and ducking around the corner out into the hallway. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of Malin doing something to Jackson that was clearly distracting him from his disappointment.

“This is Bell,” she said, trying not to let her own exasperation sound over the phone. She didn’t quite succeed.

“This is Agent Sursok back at the office. You’ve been called in for an assignment.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Agent Sursok,” the girl on the other end said. “Tammin Sursok?”

“Still not ringing any bells,” Kristen said, glancing back to see Malin happily sucking away at her husband’s cock.

There was a very pregnant pause on the other end. “BJ,” Tammin finally said.

“Oh, Blow Job Lips,” Kristen said, recognizing the voice now. “What’s the assignment? I’m kinda in the middle of something here-”

“Major bank heist at San Francisco Union Bank. Several armed robbers were involved, civilian casualties.”

THAT got Kristen’s attention. A full-blown bank heist, in the middle of the day? Multiple robbers? It screamed organized crime on some level, and if that was the case, there was an outside chance that maybe – just maybe – this was connected to the mysterious Rhona.

“I’ll be right there,” Kristen said, hanging up her phone. She turned back with a sorry expression on her face. “Guys, I’m so sorry, I gotta go into work. They’re falling apart without me.”

“Fuck no!” Malin whined. “Do you fucking have to?”

“I do,” Kristen said, picking up her thong off the floor. “But believe me, we can do this again sometime. Soon.”

“But- but what about-?” Jackson started to protest.

Kristen rolled her eyes while yanking on her panties, then sauntered over to the bed and in one quick move swallowed as much of Jackson’s cock as she could squeeze into her mouth. Trying very hard to not think about the fact that the penis her lips were now wrapped around had just been in her own ass, Kristen quickly started sucking and stroking Jackson’s rod, shutting him up at once, and quickly milking him for all he was worth. In less than thirty seconds, his cum was jetting into the back of Kristen’s throat, and he was collapsing onto the bed, spent.

“Mmmm, next time, you and I need to have more fun,” Malin said, kissing Bell over her husband’s rapidly deflating cock.

“Mmmm, next time,” Kristen said. She meant it, too.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roselyn Sanchez was about as mad as she could be, and she knew from the way the other six robbers were sniping at each other that she wasn’t alone.

They’d been back in the hideout now for almost an hour, and Rhona Mitra was still MIA. Considering how important this heist had been to Rhona, none of the girls could believe she was missing. Grace was combing the net for any and all news about the heist – and possible Rhona, too. Shay and Blake had managed to find an old TV, and were watching Channel 7, which was having sporadic updates about the heist, mostly due to the news that one of their own reporters – Hayden – had been taken in the heist. Meanwhile, Jaime was sitting by the window, a large shotgun in her lap – where she’d gotten THAT Roselyn would never know – watching like a hawk, clearly expecting to be sold out.

Roselyn didn’t like the shotgun being in the room – not for her usual disdain for firearms, but rather because she feared when Rhona DID show up, Roselyn herself might damn well grab the gun and shoot the bitch herself.

“7.8 million,” Emma said, coming up beside Roselyn and whispering quietly. “That’s how much we got, most of it from the safe, but including the 250 grand or so you guys were able to get out of the teller drawers while Shay and I were downstairs.”

“So?” Roselyn asked.

“So, split evenly, it’s around 1 million, one-hundred fourteen thousand, two hundred eighty-five dollars, and roughly 72 cents apiece. I’m willing to lose a dollar or two so everyone else is even up on the end.”

“How gallant of you,” Roselyn muttered.

“Yeah, I’m all heart and a dripping wet pussy. Can we split the cash now and split or what?”

“You want to run without seeing Rhona? And then have her come after us all later?”

That made Emma pause. “No, not really,” the youngest robber admitted. “She’s kinda scary, that one.”

“She is, and she WILL come after us all if we double-cross her.”

“Ever think maybe she’s double-crossing US?” Jaime asked from across the room – Roselyn cursed herself for letting her voice rise enough for the others to hear. “This smells more and more like a set-up with every second.”

“YOU want to leave, you can Jaime,” Roselyn snapped. “I’m more than happy to let Rhona hunt you down like a dog and put you out of your misery.”

“How about I put my foot up your ass, you Latina bitch!” Jaime said, standing up and gripping her shotgun a little tighter. Roselyn stood up as well, feeling for the pistol she’d kept on her after the heist. She didn’t want to use it, but if she were being truthful, she would’ve happily shot Jaime, just to know she wouldn’t have to keep watching her back all the time.

“Hey, shut up a minute!” Blake called out. “They’re talking about the heist again!”

Everyone turned towards the TV, where that delicious Channel 7 reporter, Ashley Benson, was once again on the screen.

“… something out of a movie. Reports are sketchy, but there were as many as 4 armed robbers, all of them women, who raided the SFUB just about two hours ago. They managed to get away before a significant police presence could be gathered, and they got away with not only an unconfirmed amount of money, but no less than four hostages, also all women, one of them Channel 7 reporter Hayden Panettiere.” A picture of Hayden’s Channel 7 press badge appeared next to Ashley. It wasn’t the most flattering of shots.

“Details are still coming in to Channel 7, but we know that there is at LEAST one civilian killed on site, a man whose name has not yet been released. There are also unconfirmed reports that the security systems at the bank were tampered with, possibly even hacked by computer. Police are still interviewing witnesses, some of whom have vastly varying stories, and more information is expected soon. For Channel 7, I’m Ashley Benson at the scene.”

“Fuck, how’d they learn about my hacking so fast?” Grace asked, looking over from the computer.

“Any word on Rhona yet, Grace?” Shay asked nervously.

“Nothing so far,” the Asian hottie said. “I’ve got every connection I have with her pinging away, but she’s not responding.”

“Could something have happened to her?” Blake asked. “Could she have been… caught?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jaime snorted. “That bitch gets caught, she sells us out faster than you can slip your panties off, Boobs Leggerson.”

“So what do we do?” Shay asked. “Do we wait, or do we run?”

“We can’t run on Rhona,” Roselyn said. “Trust me, she’ll kill us all if we don’t give her what she wants.”

“What DOES she want?” Blake asked. “A cut? That thumb drive back?”

“Maybe she wants to bend you over the sofa and take that sweet sweet ass of yours,” Jaime said, eyeing Blake’s ass.

“Do you EVER shut up?” Blake shot back.

“Only if I’ve been fucked REALLY well,” Jaime said. “You should know. You were there the other night when you, me, and Hot Wheels got it on with those three boys. And I KNOW I got fucked better than you did.”

Blake turned her back on Jaime and looked pointedly at Roselyn.

“We wait,” Roselyn said firmly.

“And if she doesn’t come?” Emma asked.

Roselyn closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to wish this whole situation away. All she wanted was to be back home with Alicia, wrapped in her beloved’s arms and legs. If Rhona had been here, Roselyn would already be on the road again, her cut in the back seat, roaring towards the woman of her dreams and her steamy wet pussy.

“We’ll wait until morning,” Roselyn said finally. “We wait until tomorrow, and if she’s not here by then, we’ll spilt the money and take our chances.”

“And the cops?” Blake asked.

“Grace, you’ve got some sorta police scanner going, right?”

“You bet,” Grace said, patting her computer. “If they get any sorta lead on us, I’ll know, and we SHOULD have all sorts of time to get away, so long as we hurry.”

“And if not, I’m more than willing to shoot my way out,” Jaime said defiantly. Everyone ignored her this time.

“What about the…?” Shay asked, nodding her head towards the other room where the three hostages were tied to the bed.

“We leave them,” Megan said.

“With bullets in their brains,” Jaime added.

“No, we don’t need to kill them-” Roselyn started to say, but was cut off.

“They know, though – they know about me, anyway,” Shay said. “I worked with one of them for weeks, and the other one’s been into the bank a couple of times. They know I’m not a hostage.”

“Sucks to be you, Mocha Butt,” Jaime said. “You want to shoot them? I’m happy to lend you my smallest gun.”

“They also know we were expecting someone ELSE to be here,” Grace pointed out. “And they’ll know we never met them. I don’t think we can just leave them behind. At least, not yet.”

“We are NOT killing them,” Roselyn said sharply. “We’ve killed too many people already!”

“What’s this we shit?” Jaime said. “I’m the only one around here with enough chesticles to do the actual killing.”

“Maybe we could take them with us?” Blake suggested. “They’re hostages, we might still need them as such. At least for a while. Until we’re all safe.”

“Yeah, but there’s seven of us and only three of them – unless you want to count Shay here as a hostage, and even then there’s still too many of us for us all to go our separate ways.”

“So we leave in teams,” Megan said. “Two pairs and a trio, each with a hostage. We go our separate ways and when we’re sure we’re safe, we leave our hostages somewhere safe and never see each other again.”

“Mmmm, I like it. We can each have our own little treat for the road. But which hottie do I want?”

“I’m NOT pairing up with HER,” Blake and Emma both said, looking at Jaime. When they both realized that, they both spoke again. “OR her!”

“Do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?” Roselyn snapped. “I’ll go with Jaime – only way I know for sure she won’t kill her hostage.”

“Like you could STOP me,” Jaime muttered under her breath.

“Emma, you and Shay take another hostage, Megan, you drive Grace and Blake with the third hostage. We’ll leave in the morning or if the cops show up. Anyone got any other complaints?” Roselyn asked.

“Plenty, but they’re all for Rhona,” Blake muttered.

“Yeah,” Shay added quietly. No one argued that.

* * * * * * * * * *

A very helpful cop, whose eyes lingered on Kristen Bell’s legs a little TOO long as she approached and flashed him her badge, lifted the crime scene tape and let Kristen in without comment. Kristen was pretty sure he was gawking at her ass in her skirt as she walked towards the front door of the San Francisco Union Bank. Normally she’d be flattered, but Kristen’s head was too far into the game at the moment to care about guys lusting after her.

“Agent Bell!”

Kristen turned to see Tammin Sursok running towards her, wearing a pair of sunglasses that were just a smidge too large for her face. She carried a clipboard and, blessedly, a fresh coffee she handed to Kristen without preamble.

“Where’s Biel?”

“Inside,” Tammin said. “Down in what’s left of the vault, I think.”

“What’s LEFT?” Kristen asked.

“They blew it – used some C4 or something. It’s an awful mess down there. The local CSU’s already overtaxed on it, and Biel’s pulling rank to get our own people in here, if the SFPD ever agrees to cooperate.”

“SFPD needs to get its head out of its own ass before that’ll happen,” Kristen said before taking a long swig of coffee. As she tipped her head back, she spotted the knot of news crews already on scene, including a gorgeous young blonde towards the front of the crowd, talking to her cameraman. “Is that-?”

“Ashley Benson,” Tammin confirmed, a touch of lust in her voice. Kristen couldn’t blame her.

“I thought a Channel 7 girl was a hostage.”

“Yeah, that’s Hayden Panettiere.”

“Oh, the other cute little blonde on 7,” Kristen said. “Man, where do they find them?”

“No clue,” Tammin said.

“Alright, let’s get inside and find Biel. I clearly need to be brought up to speed.”

They found Jessica Biel exactly where Tammin had said they would, crouching down in her impeccable high heels to look at some of the rubble that marked the remains of SFUB’s vault.

“Fuck me, they really did a number on this place,” Kristen said.

“Bell, good, I’m going to need your help on this one, big time,” Biel said.

That made Kristen stop dead in her tracks. Jessica Biel wasn’t the type to ask for help from anyone, let alone a girl she didn’t like. Just how serious was this case?

“What happened?” Bell asked carefully.

“It’s like something out of a bad heist movie or something,” Jessica said, standing up and shaking her head. “We’ve got some conflicting reports, and all the damn security footage is fucked up, but we know it was a crew of all-women robbers, and they came in here with a finely detailed plan. And if you consider the fact that they got away with almost 8 million dollars, I guess it worked.”

“What do we know for sure?”

“Just after 11, three armed robbers entered the bank. They had a decoy girl – some leggy blonde thing according to the idiot security guards – who distracted and disabled them just before the armed girls entered. We’re not sure exactly what happened next, but it sounds like one of them took a teller down here to the safe and tried to crack it while the others were grabbing all the money they could out of the teller drawers upstairs.”

“No one thought to hit a silent alarm?”

“According to all the remaining tellers, every one of them hit their silent alarms before they were ordered to the ground. Not a one of them got a signal out.”

“So it’s true someone hacked the security systems?” Kristen asked.

“Every camera was hacked, every alarm silenced, except for the hardwired one in the safe – and even that was tampered with – we aren’t sure how far along the robbers were when the alarm down here went off, but they were a LOT farther than they were supposed to be.”

“And then when they set off the alarm, they decided to just blow it?”

“Something like that,” Biel said. “And here’s where it gets iffy – the cops were barely showing up on-scene at that point, and two of the four who were here when they broke out are dead, and the other’s career is certainly dead. That just leaves the on-foot officer, and he wasn’t in position to cover the front when it happened. Still, apparently at least ONE of the robbers was naked when they all took hostages and fled.”

“They had a van waiting outside, with a VERY skilled getaway driver,” Tammin said, picking up the narrative. “They led SFPD on a merry chase through town, but because they got out of here so quickly after the alarm went off, no one was able to get a chopper over them in time. They killed at least two cops, with another in critical condition, and also managed to take out a trolley car, killing four passengers and putting seven more in critical condition, according to the hospital reports. The driver of the trolley was one of them, and isn’t expected to survive – if he does, he’ll do so without either leg and missing half his right arm.”

“Ouch,” Kristen winced in sympathy. “So, other than a naked robber and a beautiful blonde, what do we know about these robbers?”

“All girls,” Tammin said quickly. “That alone is unique.”

“We don’t know that for sure, especially considering they had a van on the outside. What about the hostages?” Biel asked. “Do you have their information yet?”

“Yes!” Tammin said, handing both Jessica and Kristen matching files. “These are faxes, the real files are back in the office. Sorry about the poor quality.”

“Gee, BJ, you don’t have them on your laptop yet?” Kristen asked.

Tammin paused. “I do. It’s out in my car. Should I go get -”

“Just tell us about the hostages,” Biel said.

“Two tellers, a customer, and a local news reporter – though there’s some questions of two of them,” Tammin said. “The customer is local Kindergarten teacher Lucy Hale, early 20s, highly educated and almost as innocent as the kids she teaches. According to a couple of the witnesses the police have interviewed, one of the robbers expressed more than a passing sexual desire for Miss Hale, and if one of them is to be believed, Miss Hale might have been raped had the cops not shown up when they did.”

“I thought all the robbers were women?” Biel asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tammin said. “The hostages still say one of them was threatening to rape Miss Hale.”

“This IS San Francisco,” Kristen commented. “Are we certain they didn’t before they left?”

“No, but according the all the interviewees the cops have finished with, there wasn’t enough time for that to have happened.”

“Okay, so we’ll assume that there’s a good chance Miss Hale is still alive, but in danger of being sexually assaulted,” Biel said. “Next?”

“JoAnna Garcia – bank teller who’s worked here for years. Offered herself up as the hostage to be taken downstairs, but was rebuffed in favor of the other teller they took with them. According to her supervisor, she’s a model employee, has a fiance they’re trying to get in touch with now, and is above reproach.”

“Means she’s probably a suspect for the insider,” Bell said.

“I don’t know about that, ma’am,” Tammin said. “We’ve also got the other teller, one Shay Mitchell. She’s only worked there for a few weeks, and was the hostage who went with the robber down to open the safe. That same robber came back naked after blowing the safe.”

“New girl, there just long enough to learn all the habits and security layout, and comes back with a naked robber,” Biel said. “Suspicious, to say the least.”

“There’s more,” Tammin said. “I’ve got people checking back at the office, but her ID, while spotless, is a little TOO spotless, and only goes back six years – one more than required for the bank’s hiring process. Before that, it’s like she never existed.”

“Fake ID then,” Bell said. “She definitely sounds fishy.”

“Until we know for sure, we mark her as a hostage,” Jessica said. “Can’t assume involvement until we can prove it.”

“That just leaves our celebrity hostage, reporter Hayden Panettiere. Something’s fishy with her, too.”

“What?” Bell and Biel asked together.

“She got here before anyone else – long before any of the cops did, and before even the crew dispatched from her own office could get here. And, despite the fact that their own people seem to INSIST she was taken hostage, no one in the bank remembers seeing her. Certainly never with a camera or microphone.”

“Could she be one of the robbers?”

“Can’t rule it out – the circumstances of her being here are suspicious at best. It’s entirely possible that she planted the story herself about being a hostage. She could be one of the robbers.”

“Or maybe the getaway driver,” Biel said.

“She came down here alone?” Bell asked. “No camera man?”

“Her usual producer was out sick, apparently, and she didn’t want to wait for an available cameraman – part of the reason Channel 7 sent another crew.”

“Well well, Miss Panettiere,” Jessica Biel said. “I so want to meet YOU now.”

“So, what’s next?” Tammin asked.

“We keep looking for more clues here, and send the cops out to start looking for that van,” Jessica said. “Kristen, go find the producer our missing Hayden here usually works for. I want him or her waiting for me back at the office. Squeeze any information you can out of them while you’re at it.”

“You got it,” Kristen said. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, tell the boys back at the office to dig deeper into this Shay Mitchell hostage, too. She doesn’t strike me as being totally straight, either.”

“She strikes me as too hot to be straight, but I know that’s not what you meant,” Kristen said with a wink before turning and heading for the door.

“What about me?” Tammin asked eagerly.

“Go get me another coffee, BJ – this is going to be a long day.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Troian’s asshole was about halfway back to normal by the time the bus pulled up to the nearest stop before the Channel 7 building. With a bag over her shoulder and gratitude that it was only a few minutes away, she got off the bus and hobbled down the street before entering the office grounds, smiling weakly at the security officer as she passed.

“I heard you were sick today!”

“I was – am – but the golden girl’s in danger. I figured it’s better to keep track where I’ll get word the second it’s out than at home.”

“We’re all pulling for her,” the officer said. “She’s a sweetheart.”

“You know it,” Troian agreed, entering the building and planning to head for the news office; her bailiwick was normally among cameras, but this was a crisis. Hopefully Zucker had some info for her, and Troian mentally crossed her fingers as she knocked on the news director’s door and was summoned. The first thing she was going to ask was if Ashley was heading back to base…

As soon as she entered, she saw that something new had been added; there was a young woman sitting across from Roger on the other side of the desk. A small blonde with great legs, but not the one she was looking for – especially as Ashley’s face wouldn’t have lit up when she saw Troian the way this one’s did, almost as if she was expected.

“Speak of the devil…” said Roger. “We were just talking about you, Troian.”

“You were?”

“This is–” Roger started, ignoring the employee.

“No, let me do it. I love doing this,” the woman interrupted, getting up to face the bemused brunette. “So you’re Troian Bellisario?”

“Um… yeah. And you’re…?”

“Agent Kristen Bell,” said the blonde, treating Troian to her ID. “FBI. I must admit I’m surprised to see you here today after what he just told me…”

“One of our own’s in danger,” Troian said. “I had to come in.”

“Yeah, about that… let’s talk.”

“Shoot.”

“Not here,” Kristen added. “Back at my place. My WORK place. It’s okay,” she added as Troian swallowed nervously, “we just want to ask you some questions about Hayden Panettiere. We know you’ve worked with her closer than anyone here…”

“You can ask them here,” Troian assured her. “I’ve got nothing to hide.” Except about how she and I are in love, she thought.

“It’s all right, Troian,” Roger assured HER. “I’ve told her Channel 7 will fully cooperate with the FBI. We want Hayden safe as much as you do.”

“C’mon… this won’t take long.”

Casting a regretful glance at the television in the office, Troian allowed Kristen to lead her out.

* * * * * * * * * *

“I ought to thank you, Miss Bellisario,” Kristen said as they entered her office.

“Call me Troian,” the brunette replied, playing with her bag as she sat down, wincing a little.

“My immediate superior wanted you down here by the time she returned,” the blonde explained, heading to her side of the desk as Troian took the opportunity to check out her legs. Not bad at all. “If Biel comes in and we’re well on the way to wrapping things up… oh, I’m sorry – I’m making this about me…”

Kristen was tiny, gorgeous and all smiles. Troian was therefore a little cautious – it was always the cheerful ones you had to be careful about when dealing with enforcement. Actually, it was also always the sullen ones you had to watch out for. Basically, with these types it was always any of them; and Troian hadn’t even done anything to interest the Feds.

“You okay there?” Agent Bell asked.

“I had a bad night,” Troian explained. “That’s why I wasn’t in this morning…”

“Yeah, that’s kind of why we want to talk this over with you. Right on cue,” Kristen added, as another agent entered the room carrying two cups of coffee in her hands and a very resigned look on her face. “Thanks a bunch, BJ. Let me know when Biel gets in; she might want a few words with Troian here as well.”

Seeing Tammin’s badge, Troian wondered what B.J. Sursok’s initials stood for as she thanked the rookie. Kristen took hers black, and she tellingly hadn’t bothered to have any creamer brought it for any guests who might, you know, actually LIKE their coffee with the stuff. Still, if it helped get this over quicker… “Thank you, miss,” she told Agent Sursok, and was rewarded with a little smile of gratitude.

“Not at all,” Tammin replied, and stepped out.

“Now, about Hayden… how long have you worked with her?” asked Kristen, settling back as the recording, which had started as soon as they entered the office, continued.

“Ever since she started at Channel 7. Almost two years now,” Troian added with another wince and a twitch.

“Uh-huh… and what’s she like? No need to hide anything here.”

“She’s a good reporter, works hard on the stories… everybody loves her at the station. And in the audience – you should see some of the letters she gets,” Troian laughed. “Boys, men, even women.”

“Is that a fact,” Kristen smiled, seeing the look in Troian’s eyes and coming to the right conclusion. She wanted to bring it up, but it didn’t really have anything to do with the case – and besides, for all she knew Troian was closeted. “I think she’s pretty hot myself.”

“She’s spoken for.”

“Figures. Anyway,” Kristen continued, “why weren’t you with her this morning?”

“I had to call in sick.”

“Why?”

Troian’s mind went into overdrive. If she told this FBI agent the truth she’d basically be outing Hayden, and if her girlfriend wasn’t about to come out at work… on the other hand, maybe she could disguise it and the Fed wouldn’t start digging.

“I had a rough morning,” she said.

“Doing what?” Kristen asked.

“Oh boy,” Troian thought. Out loud, she slowly said “Me and my… lover were having some fun in the shower.”

“She must have been busy there,” Kristen cracked.

“Yeah, she wa– wait a minute…” Troian winced again, partly out of pain and partly out of what she’d just said.

“Oh come on, Troian; I knew what team you play for the second I saw you. Takes one to know one, kid.” She winked and sat back. “So I take it she played with your keister hard enough so you were laid up all day, right?”

“Yes, Miss Tactless,” Troian said, minus the last two words. “I really wanted to be with Hayden today as well.”

“Any particular reason?”

The glint in Kristen’s eyes was begging for a fist on them. “To give her support on-set, because today’s – today was due to be the first time she anchored the main news.”

“Was it now?”

“Mm-hmm. Her and Ashley Benson.”

The idea of Hayden Panettiere and Ashley Benson teaming up brought all sorts of images to Kristen’s mind; she pushed them aside (and filed them away for later fantasies). “And the next thing you know she’s rushing down to the SFUB because she gets a tip at the station.”

“Yeah. A tip.”

Kristen raised her eyebrows – Troian sounded a little suspicious there. Maybe the two of them were on the same wavelength… “Go on.”

“I’ll level with you; Ashley’s a total bitch. Always has the eyes on the prize, and hates anyone stealing the spotlight. You remember Katy Bailey?”

“The weathergirl? Yeah, I remember.”

“Ashley had her fired because she hates girls who like girls.”

“I heard it was drugs.”

“Ashley smokes too; she wouldn’t have blown the whistle on her just for that. She wanted an excuse to send her up, there it was. She’s had her eye on Hayden ever since she joined… that’s why she called her this morning.”

This was getting interesting. “You’re saying Ashley Benson rang up Panettiere?”

“Yep… the call wasn’t put through to the station lines but right to Hayden’s cellphone, and she doesn’t give the number out to anyone except family, friends and workmates, so it had to be someone who’d already have it.”

“Why do you think it was Ashley?” Kristen asked.

“Because,” Troian said as she opened the bag she had brought, “a) Ashley would love to knock Hayden on her ass before she could get started, b) Ashley wasn’t on the premises…” She took out a sheet of paper and handed it to the agent. “…and c) I called up our phone provider and had the call logs checked. In the hour before the shit went down at the bank Hayden made one call – to the station – and took two. One was from her mother and the other… the one I circled there… was from Ashley’s phone.”

“Hang on – OUR phone provider?” Kristen interrupted. “How come you and Hayden have the same service?”

“It’s not impossible,” Troian pointed out.

“True, but you could have just said Verizon or T-Mobile or something.” Kristen leaned towards Troian, grinning. “The two of you sharing a system… Hayden’s the lover, isn’t she?”

Troian looked at Kristen for a long moment before nodding, wishing she could apologise to Hayden for this.

“I *KNEW* it! I knew she liked the ladies… not surprised you’re so ginger with the walking; Italian girls can really stir it up!”

“Stir what up?”

Kristen and Troian looked up to see Jessica Biel entering the office, her harried face pleased to see the Channel 7 brunette. “And what Italian girl?”

“This is Hayden’s colleague Troian Bellisario,” Kristen explained. “Partners at work… and at home. Apparently everyone’s favourite sexy little blonde reporter is why Troian here called in sick, and she did a little detective work of her own,” she added, handing Jessica the phone records. “I think Beverley Mitchell should check over these, just to be sure.”

“You might just get my job one day,” Jessica said approvingly, before calling for Beverley as she took her place in the other seat next to Kristen. Troian’s eyes went from one to the other nervously as Kristen filled her in on what she’d missed, by which time Beverley had come in, taken the sheet and instructions, and left.

“But I got them direct from the company,” Troian protested. “You don’t have to check them.”

“Actually, we do,” Jessica replied. “Best to get that verified. Our systems can check their systems without having to phone any T-Mobile drones.”

“We’re on Verizon.”

“Whatever.”

“I don’t know…” Kristen mused.

“No, we *are* with Verizon.”

“Not that. I mean, it’s funny how she should leave you out of action today of all days. Fuck you hard enough to be at home, just in case…”

Troian struggled with what she was implying. Just in case? What the fuck?

“You probably didn’t know about it, did you?”

“Wait… WHAT?!?” Troian snapped, only kept from rising forcefully by the soreness of her seat. “Are you saying that Hayden… that she’s PART of this? That she pretended to be kidnapped?”

“Well, no one actually saw her down there,” Jessica pointed out calmly. She did not like questionees becoming questioners.

“Except the people who snatched her! I *know* Hayden – she wouldn’t get involved in something like this… if she wants easy money she plays Lotto sometimes, but that’s it.”

“Love is blind, dearie,” Kristen smiled. “We don’t have any proof, but maybe you might have… now think. Did you see or hear her say anything in the past few days that might suggest–”

“SHE WAS GETTING READY TO DO HER FIRST ANCHOR JOB!” Troian yelled. “We tell each other everything! EVERYTHING! You want to know who was thinking of stealing something once? Me, that’s who! I wanted to walk out of Wal-Mart with a couple of bottles of wine last year, and you know who stopped me? Hayden. *She* stopped *me*. The girl won’t even jaywalk, and you’re telling me you think she’s part of this gang? Fuck you, Fed!”

“You finished?” Kristen said coldly and sharply. Beside her, Jessica had a similarly frosty expression; Troian had a feeling this outburst had not been wise at all.

“Your girlfriend is a person of interest in crimes involving armed robbery, destruction of property, kidnapping, murder and vehicular manslaughter,” Jessica told her. “If you try to impede this investigation, you WILL be sorry.”

“I don’t want to block you guys,” Troian replied, her anger being swamped by concern for Hayden – and herself. “I want her back…”

“We want HER, period,” Kristen replied. “And you’re her closest associate. Give me a reason why we shouldn’t hold you.”

“I haven’t committed a federal crime?”

“You got in the face of two FBI agents,” Jessica replied. “You don’t get in the faces of FBI agents.”

Troian gripped the handrests. They could hold her here and make up any kind of charges, and with the law on their side – with their BEING the law – they could get away with it. Unless…

“Look, maybe there’s some way I could… make it up to you two?” she suggested.

“Don’t even think about bribes, miss.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that…” Troian eyed Kristen, and gave her a little smile and a very knowing look before transferring attention to Jessica and giving her the same treatment, silently thankful for the open arrangement she and Hayden had.

The two agents looked at each other for a few moments; neither was that keen on teaming up on something like this. They didn’t even like splitting the cost of drinks. But any port in a storm… and maybe they might get something else out of her. Jessica pressed the intercom.

“Beverley, if you’re not done with those records see to it that NO ONE interrupts us for the next ten minutes.”

“And we’re off,” Troian said to herself very quietly as Jessica pressed another button on the desk.

“That locks the door just in case anyone forgets. And Bell,” she added as she got up, “I go first. I’m pulling rank with this one.”

“Not for the first time,” Kristen muttered.

Running her eyes over the trim brunette, Jessica decided to pretend she hadn’t heard Kristen. Troian wasn’t dressed for work by any means; she had on a light sweater and casual pants, as if she’d thrown on the first things she could find (which she had). But Jessica was willing to bet she had a very nice if not very big rack under there; she beckoned for the girl to get up, which Troian did.

Knowing where this was going, Troian lifted the sweater over her head and put it over the back of the chair, exposing her breasts to the agents. Both Feds smiled approvingly; as Jessica had predicted, not very big but very nice.

“Aren’t you going to–”

“Until you’re finished, *I’m* staying clothed,” Jessica interrupted, emphasising the “I”.

Kristen moved next to Troian, the two shedding their clothes; Kristen’s temperament at how snotty her boss could be was tempered by the legs Troian revealed as she stepped out of her pants. Unlike her top half, she had put on something underneath; Jessica reached down and slowly pulled Troian’s panties down, and both agents gazed at the dark patch of pussyhair displayed, Kristen peering at the other side.

“Nice,” Jessica said, kissing the skin above the tuft.

“The view’s pretty good here as well,” Kristen added, cupping one of Troian’s buns.

“Not up there,” Troian told the blonde. “It’s still kind of sore.”

“Damn.” Kissing the brunette, she stroked her butt – that reporter was so lucky to be able to tap this.

“I bet yours isn’t,” Troian added, touching Kristen’s.

“It isn’t. But you’re not going to make it so.”

“Star Trek freak,” smiled the brunette as Kristen and Jessica moved closer to each side of her, each putting an arm around her; Jessica’s fingers slid through Troian’s thatch, the thumb gently playing with her clit. Troian could see the way Jessica’s breasts gently pushed against the fabric – she really wanted to have a look at them, and as she turned her face and began nuzzling Kristen’s tiny chest she moved a hand along Jessica’s more ample rack, looking for the buttons.

Miss Biel removed Troian’s hand with a “Tsk, tsk… I do my own unbuttoning. One piece of clothing for every answer.”

Troian mumbled “‘kay” with her mouth occupied by sucking one of Kristen’s Lilliputian nipples, her free hand patting the blonde’s Fed’s round, soft butt while Jessica ran her hands along Troian’s slim form, massaging her boobs.

“Was that Wal-Mart business the only time you ever wanted to steal anything?”

“No…” Troian admitted, her fingers moving onto Kristen’s snatch. For someone so cold, she was really warm below…

“Glad to hear it,” Jessica said, undoing her skirt. At the sound of fabric slipping off, Troian turned to take a look – her eyes lit up when she saw the sexy legs Miss Biel was sporting. (Jessica would have been pleased if she knew Troian thought her body was nicer than Kristen’s.)

“So what did you want to steal?”

“Honestly… Hayden, from her last girlfriend. But then I found out she was single…”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Kristen said with not enough sarcasm to ruin the Q&A. She wanted to have a taste of Troian, but like Jessica said… and the boss, just after she took her top off and showed her bra-clad torso, was down on her knees behind the interrogatee. Troian’s legs were slightly apart, letting Jessica take a look at her pussy and back door.

“Tell us a little about Hayden… does she have any… habits we should know about?” Kristen asked, as Troian kissed her stomach.

“She likes the odd webcam…” the brunette smiled. There was a tiny, tiny thud as Jessica’s bra slipped off onto the floor; Troian took a look and was rewarded by the Biel breasts, and couldn’t keep from licking her lips.

“Want some of these? Do you? Huh?”

“Quality and quantity,” Troian smiled, seeing the knowing smirk Jessica aimed at Kristen.

“They say more than a handful’s a waste,” the blonde replied spiritedly as Jessica knelt before Troian, her jugs tantalizingly close.

“Does she watch on the webcam or model?”

“Just watches.”

Troian closed her lips around Jessica’s right nipple, sucking gently and wishing she was lactating; her hands instinctively moved around the woman, stroking her back and slowly moving down towards her ass. Jessica gently held them in place.

“Not yet… has she ever done any kind of stuff you might want to tell us about? Anything at all?”

“Well,” Troian said in between sucks, “Hayden did tell me she thought about doing some nude shots. Never went through with it.”

Stepping away, Jessica lowered her panties, finally letting Troian see the complete works. She was a powerful and beautiful woman; Troian wanted to ask if SHE’D ever thought of doing nude shots, and if not why not? She rested her hands on Jessica’s seat meat; oh yes… she had plenty of ass back there, nice and round and all natural. As she stroked it, she licked her lips again while Kristen, not happy to be ignored, studied Troian’s own rump and the pen on Jessica’s desk. She wanted to make her still-recovering butt hurt a little more for that.

Troian’s head moved forward as Jessica looked at Kristen and mouthed “The desk.” Out loud, she grabbed Troian’s head and pulled it back. “You don’t get to eat until I do,” she tut-tutted. “You can munch on Agent Bell though.”

Jessica grabbed Troian’s hands as Kristen got hold of her ankles; the two Feds hoisted the brunette up and carried her onto the desk face up, Troian not daring or wanting to resist. She did, however, summon up the nerve to lightly pat Jessica Biel’s ass just before the agent switched places with Kristen, and was delighted to see her give a little smile en route. Troian instinctively spread her legs as Kristen faced her, standing with her blonde pussy right in her eyeline.

“All aboard!” Agent Bell said merrily, and moved to put her snatch directly over Troian’s face. Even though Kristen tipped the scales alongside three feathers and a pebble, Troian knew a great-tasting cunt when she saw it; her tongue would probably have slithered into the agent’s box if she had weighed the same as Sherri Shepherd. Probably. And having the Fed’s ass on her face was like being smothered by two silk cushions… they were ALMOST as nice as Hayden’s. Troian eagerly lapped away inside Kristen, kissing and sucking away as Kristen rode her.

It got even better when Troian felt two strong hands on her thighs and a tongue moving between them; Jessica’s mouth action was more direct than her questioning… almost as if she wanted to get this over with fast. Running the tip of her tongue along Troian’s pussy lips and flicking inside rapidly, Jessica was causing her to become wetter in record time; this encouraged her to munch faster on Kristen.

Writhing underneath the two agents, Troian tried to hold off… but it was no good. She yelled into Kristen’s box as she spasmed her ecstasy over Jessica’s lips way too soon, almost screaming “TOO FAST!”

“Hey, I’m sorry too…” Kristen groaned, seeing the look in Troian’s eyes (or what she could see of Troian’s eyes). “Biel wants to wrap this up before Mitchell gets back.”

“Not enough hours in the day,” Jessica agreed, joining her fellow agent as Kristen got off Troian, ignoring the way her hands tried to grab her ass to get her to stay. “Let’s see if you can finish this quick.”

“Finish what?” Troian asked, and then got an answer as Jessica Biel turned around, presenting her with her buns. Without waiting for any further comments, Troian grabbed each cheek and spread them aside, diving right in and kissing Jessica’s puckered opening. Mmmm… she wasn’t sure what was best, how great Biel’s ass felt or how soft and deep her hole was. Troian’s tongue slithered around her tight sphincter, wishing that they had more time so she could love this rump properly. Best of all, Jessica wasn’t saying anything, just moaning… she liked it. Taking brief moments to kiss and lick each globe, Troian went back to work, stroking the buns and thighs as she sucked.

Troian would probably have been there all day had Kristen not given her left tit a twist, breaking her mood and causing her to pull away from Jessica Biel’s asshole. “WHAT?!? You fucking BI…” she started, before she saw who was behind Kristen.

Standing in front of the door, having unlocked it and entered, was a sheet-carrying Beverley Mitchell. “The information you wanted,” she said as calmly as if there weren’t three naked women right in front of her, one of whom was on a table looking *very* pissed off; Biel may have been an FBI agent, but a sexy ass was a sexy ass whoever owned it.

“Time’s up. Sorry,” Kristen lied to Troian as Beverley handed Jessica the information.

“Thank you, Beverley.”

“Did she taste nice?” Miss Mitchell asked Troian as she got off the desk and started to dress.

“Actually, yeah,” Troian admitted. “Next to my girl, the best I’ve ever had.”

“Flattery will get you… somewhere,” Jessica cracked as she too started to put her clothes back on. The also re-dressed Kristen joined Troian in taking a look at Beverley’s behind as she left; Jessica, in between clothes-donning, was busy having a look at what her secretary had found. As Troian sat back down fully clad, Jessica finished reading it and handed it to Kristen.

“You know, it’s not just us who love Hayden. Half the guys in the office say your girl really brings on the heat,” Kristen said, raising her eyebrows knowingly and smiling lazily as she gave the paper a look.

“Hard to argue with the FBI,” Troian agreed.

“And now it’s time to return the favour,” the Fed continued, snapping off the smile and slapping the paper onto the desk.

“Huh?”

“Read it, Missy.”

Troian picked up the printout, reading what Beverley Mitchell’s superdupersupercomputers had turned up. Hayden calling the station not long before she’d been taken… uh-huh. Hayden getting a call from her mother… uh-huh. Hayden getting a call from…

“Rhona Mitra?” Troian repeated slowly.

Kristen and Jessica expected to see Troian look as if she’d just been told the coffee she’d been drinking was actually a blend of Marmite and dogshit, and they weren’t disappointed; her disbelieving eyes rose from the sheet that she waved at them. “What IS this?!” she shouted. “You guys made a mistake! This one here… it’s not true! It’s GOT to be a fuckup!”

“Uh-uh, cutie,” snapped Kristen. “YOU made the mistake when you faked those calling records – or maybe Hayden made you fake them for her? I know how this mistress/slave stuff works, girls wanna do anything to please the girl with the whip…”

“Why would I want to do a thing like that?!”

“To hide the fact that Hayden’s getting phone calls from Rhona, that’s who,” Jessica answered.

“Who is Rhona, and why should I give a toss?”

“A WHAT?” asked the Feds, thrown for a second.

“I used to be in a relationship with an English girl. She passed on a little slang to me…”

“You answered our question, so we’ll answer yours,” Kristen said, eyeing the printout as if it was a previously-undiscovered Dead Sea Scroll. “You should give a… toss… because that shoots a BIG hole in the story about poor innocent Hayden being a hostage. A robbery like that would need to have someone in control behind the scenes. Someone like a gangleader who we’ve been dying to nail since before the CW started.”

“Someone like the person who called your girlfriend – Rhona Mitra,” Jessica added. “We owe your girlfriend that much; at least we have an actual link now.”

“And a last name,” Kristen finished.

Troian wasn’t sure what was more horrible; what they were saying, or the expression of Kristen’s face – she was looking virtually orgasmic. She finally had a real shot at stopping this Rhona person, and if Hayden was to be sacrificed then too bad.

“I’m telling you you’re making a mistake!” the brunette shouted. “It was ASHLEY who called her, not this Rhona person!”

“We’re the FBI, dear,” Jessica told her. “We don’t make mistakes.”

“Yeah, and blondie here bounces when she runs,” Troian snapped, ignoring Kristen’s mouth dropping open and her eyes blazing. “Now unless you want to bring charges against me, I’ve got an appointment.”

“You are so lucky we can’t hold you,” Kristen hissed as Troian stood up. “Now get your flat ass out of here and don’t think we won’t be watching you – Hayden’s tied to Rhona, and you’re tied to Hayden. If that “hostage” ever gets in touch with you, we’ll find out about it.”

“That’s if your blinders don’t wind up getting her killed. I got a job to do, so you try doing yours!” Troian showed herself out, slamming the door and regretting it didn’t have any glass to break.

The two agents exhaled and glanced at each other.

“As long as you’re keeping an eye on her, check out the girlfriend as well,” Jessica said calmly. “I want you to find out everything about Little Miss Panettiere – if that IS her real name.”

“I think it is,” Kristen replied. “Italian tattoos on her body, an Italian name…”

“Whatever, just get everything. School records, financial history, where she lived, what she did, who she did, everything. If she’s getting personal calls from Rhona, she has to have SOMETHING in her closet besides her sexual preference.”

“I’ll find it,” Kristen promised as she got up to leave. “I swear on all I hold holy I’ll find it.”

“Oh, and just for the record…” Jessica mused.

“Yeah?” asked Kristen in the doorway.

“She doesn’t have a flat ass. Dismissed.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

“What was that all about?”

“It looks like we’ve got us a break, BJ,” Beverley told Tammin outside, looking like the cat that swallowed the cream. “That girl who just left came in here with ‘proof’ that Panettiere wasn’t involved; turns out she’s got a line direct to Rhona.”

“Is that right? So why’d they let her go if she was manufacturing evidence?”

“One, no proof she did it. Second, the two B’s went and had a piece of her.”

Tammin sighed; she should’ve known that lacking a penis was an advantage to winning over those two. “So what was this proof?”

“Phone records,” Beverley said, turning to her keyboard to start typing up some letters Jessica Biel wanted sent out to colleagues. “Apparently she had her girlfriend fake them.”

“And Biel checked them?” Tammin asked.

“No, I did. They were busy in there.”

“Yeah, I should get busy as well.”

“That coffee won’t make itself!” Beverley cackled as Tammin went to her desk, her mind on anything but coffee. She didn’t care much for Jessica Biel or Kristen Bell, but at least they were proper certified FBI agents; Beverley Mitchell was a secretary. A secretary who was banging her boss. And they still took HER more seriously?

Tammin wasn’t at Biel’s level, but she sure as heck wasn’t at Mitchell’s either. She had some paperwork to do, but as soon as that was done she was going to check up on Hayden Panettiere’s phone habits herself…

* * * * * * * * * *

The waiting was torture. By their nature, save perhaps Emma who needed it in safe-cracking, and Shay, who lived undercover for weeks or months at a time, none of the robbers were particularly patient women. And with each passing hour, nerves and senses were starting to fray. As early afternoon wore on into early evening, and Rhona didn’t show, things got worse.

They did what they could to stay busy. Jaime Pressly hadn’t moved from her perch by the front window, but she’d made a point of pulling over another chair, and was systematically cleaning and checking her guns – like the shotgun, a pair of heavy pistols had appeared out of nowhere, seemingly stashed somewhere in the hideout, and she still had the same pistol that had caused so much trouble in the van during the escape. She kept one fully loaded and ready at all times, but worked slowly and methodically getting her other guns sorted.

Grace Park was still keeping an eye on any and all news about the robbery, but as with all news stories, once the immediate event had been analyzed to death, the news started to slow down, giving her a chance to play some poker with Blake and Megan. None of them had cards, but Grace had found a program for her smart phone that allowed them to pass it between them and play a fairly reasonable, if somewhat slow, game of poker. Blake had found a bag of pretzels somewhere that they were using for bets, which seemed strangely amusing to both Roselyn and Emma, considering there were bags with millions of dollars of real money not 5 feet form where they sat. Jaime had flat-out refused to play until they started playing Strip Poker, which Blake flatly refused to do.

Emma and Shay were sharing the cramped little couch that faced the TV, finally off that awful Channel 7 and instead on some strange reality dating show, Emma complaining a bit too loudly about the lack of lesbian dating shows. Every time she brought it up, Blake seemed to lose whatever hand she was playing.

For her part, Roselyn just tried to stay calm and not venture far. She’d dozed off in the other room for a while, though she’d hardly call it quality sleep. She’d checked on the hostages, all of whom were still tied up – and now gagged after that Hayden girl decided to try screaming for help at the top of her lungs – but otherwise comfortable sharing a queen-sized bed that, were they any larger, would’ve had trouble holding all three of them. And she’d tried calling home a couple of times, even though she knew Alicia would be at work, and the baby safe in daycare.

So right now, she lay back in the single recliner left in the hideout, staring at the ceiling, willing Alicia to call or Rhona to show up or the cops to bust the door down – anything to end the unbearable waiting.

“Haha! Flush!” Megan said, turning Grace’s phone towards the other players. “You’re tapped out, Grace.”

“Fuck that, we still got half a bag of pretzels I can steal out of,” Grace said, reaching into the pretzel bag.

“You can’t do that – how will we know when someone’s finally won?” Megan said.

“Who cares?” Blake asked, eating one of her pretzels. “No one wins around here until we all get out of here.”

“THAT’S IT!” Jaime shouted, slamming her last gun down and standing up. “I am NOT going to sit here listening to any more of this shit!”

“Calm down, Jaime,” Roselyn said, feeling a headache coming on.

“No, fuck that, Caliente Buns, I’m bored as all fuck, and you’re all starting to drive me nuts. I need to let off some steam.” With that she marched towards the bedroom with the hostages.

“What are you doing?!” Roselyn said, sitting up quickly.

“I’m going to take one of our little guests and have some fun in the other room. You got a problem with that?” Jaime asked darkly.

“Don’t hurt any of-”

“I’m not going to hurt ‘em – unless they get whiplash when I cum all over their face.”

“You’re going to RAPE THEM?!?!” Blake asked, her eyes going wide.

“It’s either them or you, Legs,” Jaime said. “Whadya say, want a REAL woman to show you what little Emma clearly wasn’t able to do for you?”

“Hey!” Emma said, insulted.

“Go to hell, Jaime,” Blake said coldly. “Go to fucking hell.” she turned her back on the other blonde and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Stuck up bitch,” Jaime snorted, opening the door to the hostages.

“Jaime!” Roselyn said warningly.

“Fuck off, Roselyn,” Jaime shot back. “You wanna fight over this, let’s fight, but you KNOW I’ll win, and you KNOW I’m just going to do it when you’re on the ground bleeding anyway. So if you’re going to stop me, do it now, because I ain’t waiting.”

For a moment, the two elder robbers just traded glares, each trying to stare the other down. The already thick tension in the room practically became visible, or tactile, like a wash of heat between the two women that might explode from the simplest spark. None of the other girls so much as breathed, all eyes – even Blake’s – locked on the struggle between them.

And then, Roselyn broke.

“Fine, rape one of them. Rape them all, see if I give the fuck up,” she said, standing up and walking towards the door leading to the stairs. “I’ll keep watch outside. But if the cops show up, I’m not waiting around long enough for you to pull your pants up, understand?”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Jaime said, keeping an eye on Roselyn all the way to the door. Only when the lovely Latino was outside did she turn and head in to get her hostage of choice.

* * * * * * * * *

Lucy Hale had been asleep, dreaming of laying on the beaches of Cancun in her smallest bikini, catching the eyes of all sorts of gorgeous Mexican men, each of whom had faces of male models and bodies sculpted after Greek gods, all muscle and taunt skin. She’d been having this dream a lot of late, as thoughts of her vacation filled her mind. The young teacher had wanted nothing more than to get away and just enjoy herself for a while.

Then there was a commotion, some shouting, and Lucy woke up, her arms and legs tied together and a wad of cloth stuffed in her mouth, and she remembered what had happened to her at the bank.

Just as all that occurred to her, Lucy was lifted off the bed by a pair of strong hands, to the muffled shouts of her fellow hostages.

“Whine all you like,” the angry blonde now holding Lucy said. “You’re lucky I don’t take either of you two instead. Might still, if pretty little Lucy here doesn’t do enough for me.” With that, Jaime started to haul Lucy out of the room.

It was only then that Lucy started to panic, not that she could do much. Lucy was a tiny little thing, barely 5’2” and without an ounce of fat on her body. Jaime was clearly a strong woman, who had little trouble lifting Lucy and probably could’ve just thrown her over a shoulder if needed. But they didn’t have far to go. Just into the second room with a bed, which Jaime quickly and unceremoniously dropped Lucy upon before turning around long enough to slam the door shut behind her.

“There, alone at last,” Jaime said, her eyes going up and down Lucy’s body. “Now, if I remember correctly, you owe me a look at that sweet little rump of yours.”

Lucy moaned into her gag, regretting wearing the cute little black sundress today. It had seemed fun and flirty in the morning, and she never would’ve thought she’d get caught in a bank heist and get kidnapped. Now here she was, tied up and gagged and about to be molested by some freaky woman with a fixation on Lucy’s butt.

Jaime approached the bed and carefully rolled Lucy onto her stomach, which pushed her tied hands right into her gut. Jaime must have noticed, because she grabbed Lucy by the rope binding her legs and pulled her half off the bed, just enough that her feet had to swing down to hit the floor, and her hands were able to drop just over the edge, pinned where they were. This, of course, had the added effect of freeing the bottom of Lucy’s dress completely, and bending her ass provocatively at the same time.

“My my, what a lucky girl you are,” Jaime said, running a hand gently over Lucy’s still covered ass, making the hostage shake with fear. “You have no idea how privileged you are to have an ass so sweet.” Lucy tried to free her hands to no avail as Jaime continued to almost pet her dress-covered backside, stroking it softly while talking.

“’Course, not as nice as mine, but who’s ass is?” Jaime paused for a moment. “Well, there was that one singer… Kelly something. Man, she had a perfect ass. I tapped that so hard, poor girl’s probably still not walking straight.” There was another pause. “But we’re not talking about MY ass, we’re looking at yours. Let’s flip this dress up and see what we’re working with here.”

With that Jaime lifted Lucy’s dress up and flipped it over her back, exposing not only Lucy’s legs and black panty-clad ass, but a fair amount of her back, far enough up in fact to reveal the back of her strapless bra she’d worn. Lucy whimpered to herself as she felt Jaime’s cool hands touch the skin of her back, just above the top of her panties. Jaime’s fingertips ran down over the thin cotton fabric, and from the way the blonde cooed, it was clear she liked what she felt.

“You know, I only got a look at this butt of yours in the bank. It’s better than I remember. And such cute little black panties, too! Shame they’re going to have to go.”

Lucy stiffened, expecting to feel Jaime pulling her panties down and exposing Lucy’s most private of areas. But to her surprise, Jaime came and laid on the bed, her face inches from Lucy’s.

“Pay attention, little girl,” Jaime said, pulling something out of the back pocket of her pants. She flicked it in Lucy’s face, and the young teacher screamed into her gag when she realized it was a knife.

“Whoa, calm down – I ain’t going to stick ya. Well, not with this anyway. But you need to know I’m armed and if you piss me off, I WILL cut you up. And I ain’t in the best of moods to start with, so best be good and let me do every nasty, dirty little thing I wanna do to your pretty little ladybits, okay?”

Lucy could feel the hot tears streaming down her face, and she found herself wishing she’d never even thought about taking a trip to Cancun. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have come to the bank today, and she wouldn’t have been taken hostage, and she wouldn’t be tied up, about to be used by this awful, awful lesbian woman.

“I said OKAY?!” Jaime screamed, grabbing Lucy by her hair, making the shorter girl scream into her gag once more.

“Good,” Jaime said, seemingly satisfied by Lucy’s terror. She moved back, letting go of Lucy’s hair and ran her hand over the hostage’s ass one more time. This time, Jaime slipped a finger underneath the waistband of Lucy’s panties, pulling it away from her skin by a few inches. Before Lucy knew what was happening, Jaime slipped the knife underneath the waistband and with a violent yank, cut the fabric. A heartbeat later, she did the same with the other side, and Lucy’s panties dropped to the bed, her bare ass exposed to her lecherous attacker.

“Oooh yeah, that’s what momma likes,” Jaime said, leaning in and actually taking a good long whiff of Lucy’s ass. “Mmmm, someone smells horny,” the blonde said, her hands all over Lucy’s naked ass, rubbing the skin vigorously. Lucy felt tears falling out of her eyes, even as she was pressed against the bed sheets. Jaime actually leaned forward and began to rub her face against Lucy’s bubble butt.

“My my my, you are quite the little firecracker, aren’t ya?” Jaime said, pulling back and running a single finger down the crack of Lucy’s ass, stopping just at the edge of her pussy. “And you’re getting into this – my my, sweetie. You are just flooding. You must really want me to slide a finger into this tiny little hole of yours.”

Lucy just cried into her gag. Jaime was right. Despite the fact that she was scared to death, Lucy’s pussy was practically dripping wet, and she would’ve given anything for a finger to slide up into her. Or a good hard cock. Or a cucumber. Or ANYTHING. Anything, but something attached to Jaime Pressly.

With a slight cackle of glee, Jaime stuck out her tongue and ran it over the entire length of Lucy’s pussy exactly once, savoring both the taste, and the way it made the smaller girl shudder in delight and revulsion at the same time.

“Come now, sweetie. You must have dreamt of this once,” Jaime said, moving up the bed again so she could look Lucy in the eyes. “You live in San Fran, lesbian capital of the world. You MUST have given some thought to some girl going down on you.”

Lucy shook her head in denial, the gag still keeping her from speaking.

“Tut tut, I don’t believe you,” Jaime said. “And for that, you’re going to lose more clothes.”

Before Lucy could react, Jaime reached up with her knife and went right for the straps of her dress. Already thin to start with, it was a matter of two quick cuts to rip through the spaghetti strands. But that only freed Lucy’s shoulders, and Jaime wanted so much more. Moving quickly now, Jaime grabbed the back zipper to Lucy’s dress and yanked it down – hard. It only went about partway down Lucy’s back, just enough for her to slip it off and on normally, but that wasn’t enough for Jaime. Grabbing either side of the freshly unzipped dress, Jaime began to pull, slowly but surely ripping the dress all the way down to the skirts. The sound of the fabric shredding behind her was enough to send a fresh wave of tears through Lucy.

“My my, you just have flawless skin, don’t you?” Jaime said, once more running a hand over Lucy’s body, this time starting up near the clasp of Lucy’s strapless bra, the only remaining piece of clothing Lucy had. For a moment, the kindergarten teacher though Jaime would simply unsnap that clasp, but the bank robber’s hand trailed away, down Lucy’s spine until it reached the crack of her ass, where it slowed a bit but still pressed against Lucy’s young flesh.

A single finger traced the outline of Lucy’s lower lips, making the young teacher quiver in fright and unexpected pleasure. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. For an endless heartbeat, nothing happened, then Jaime placed her hands firmly on both of Lucy’s hips, and before the young brunette could guess as to what was going to happen, Lucy, flipped her over, laying Lucy flat on her back in one swift move.

The hostage let out a muffled cry as she glared up into the lustful look Jaime was shooting down at her. There was something else in her eyes, too – something Lucy couldn’t quite place – and it sent shivers down Lucy’s spine.

“Oh, don’t be frightened,” Jaime said quietly. “This’ll be the best fucking you ever had, trust me. Just gotta get rid of this first,” she added, running a hand over both of Lucy’s still-covered nipples. Lucy trembled, then screamed into her gag as Jaime brought the knife back into view.

Lazily, almost playfully, Jaime slid the knife under Lucy’s bra, at the point where the two cups met between her cleavage. Her smile completely incongruous to her actions, she savagely yanked the knife up, ripping the bra right there and making Lucy scream again.

Remarkably, at least to Jaime’s mind, the cups of the newly separated bra fell back into place over Lucy’s breasts, preserving the small fragment of modesty she had left. Jaime couldn’t have that. Without saying a word, she used the flat of the knife to gently lift and move first the right cup, then the left, finally exposing the last bits of Lucy’s flesh to her lustful gaze.

“Oh, I wish I had a camera,” Jaime muttered, slowly lowering her lips. Lucy’s nipples were rock hard as she shivered in fright, so it was child’s play for Jaime to suck one of her erect little nubbins into her mouth, gently tugging and licking at it with her tongue. Lucy jumped at the intimate touch, but an instant later the pleasure of what Jaime was doing started to radiate out from her nipple.

Just as the little brunette relaxed, Jaime switched to the other nipple, and for half a moment, Lucy could pretend that maybe – just maybe – this was something she wanted.

Then, just as suddenly, Jaime jumped up, slid off the bed, and vanished from sight.

“Where is it, where is it?” Jaime asked, her tone a mix of impatience and boredom, as if she hadn’t just been forcing herself on another woman. Lucy could only lay there on the bed, worried about what would happen next.

“There you are,” Jaime said, and Lucy could hear rummaging as she pulled whatever it was she was looking for out of wherever she found it. There were more noises Lucy couldn’t identify, and for a moment, she thought she heard Jaime humming to herself.

“Oh yeah, now we’re ready,” Jaime said with a satisfied grunt. A moment later, she appeared next to Lucy on the bed, and this time Lucy screamed.

There, hanging between Jaime’s legs, was a massive dildo. “I don’t use this on girls all that much, honey,” the blonde said, sliding up between Lucy’s legs. “Honestly, bought it at first to scare a few guys I was robbing out in San Antonio, but one of them – real cowboy type, all macho and wearing boots with spurs and whatnot – he just wouldn’t hand over the combo to his safe, so I had to go ahead and peg him, you know? Well, let me tell you, it’s kinda fun, fuckin’ a man who ain’t ever dreamt of being fucked up the ass. He seemed to like it, and, well, every now and then, it’s fun to use this sucker on someone.”

As she spoke, Jaime placed the head of the plastic cock against the entrance to Lucy’s pussy. Lucy tried one more time to scream, but this time Jaime covered her mouth with her hand. “Now now, be nice,” the blonde scolded. “I’m about t’ rock your world, sweetie.”

Lucy tried to squirm away, to do anything. She didn’t want this, no matter what her body was telling her – her nipples erect and sensitive, her crotch growing wetter by the second. She liked boys, not girls with toys. Sure, she lived in San Francisco, and sure, she’d thought about it – but not like THIS. Not forced into it by a crazy blonde woman with a strap-on dildo.

“You know what I like about this best?” Jaime asked, hovering with the tip still pressed against Lucy’s entrance. “It’s got this little extension that penetrates my pussy,” Jaime went on, gushing a little, as if this was really exciting news and she wasn’t about to force herself on another woman. “So when I’m fucking you, I’m also fucking myself. And if I fuck you hard enough, I’ll totally cum, too! Ain’t that great?”

And with that, Jaime started to slowly slide the strap-on into Lucy.

Lucy felt the pressure as the head of the fake cock split her open and slid into her. For a crazy woman, Jaime was surprisingly gentle, moving slowly, a little bit at a time, letting Lucy get used to the large phallus inside her. She was almost tender, pressing in, looking down into Lucy’s eyes as she did so, one hand guiding the artificial cock in, the other supporting her weight. Still, even though she was being gentle, almost caring as she slid the dildo inside, Lucy could see that same crazy look in Jaime’s eyes.

Jaime was enjoying this in a way Lucy couldn’t quite understand, and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Her body started to betray her then. Lucy felt the tip of the strap-on hit a particularly enjoyable spot inside her. It shot a wave of pleasure up her spine, making her shiver in delight. She tried to hide it, squeezing her eyes shut as if trying to pretend she wasn’t there. She rolled her head away from Jaime’s face, hovering above her. She screamed into her gag, trying to disguise the fact that she’d liked that.

Jaime caught it anyway.

“Oh, you liked that,” Jaime said, stopping her inevitable push inside Lucy and pulling out just a hair, enough so that when she started moving forward again, she hit that spot inside the little teacher again.

Lucy practically creamed herself right there, and she couldn’t hide it. Jaime had her, had her in a most erotic of spots, had her craving the fucking she was about to receive.

“See,” Jaime said, leaning in close to whisper in Lucy’s ear. “I told you I was about to rock your world.”

And she did. Gone was the gentle tenderness – Jaime started fucking Lucy like her strap-on was a real cock, and she was getting as much pleasure as Lucy was, if not more, from every thrust. She was harsh, she was demanding, she was a little mean about it. But every one of Jaime’s thrusts into Lucy’s pretty little pussy hit that sensitive little spot, driving Lucy closer to orgasm.

Lucy’s breath was ragged, flying out through her nose with every thrust into her, and desperately sucking back in whenever Jaime pulled out. The gag made it harder to breathe, but at the same time added something to what Lucy was feeling.

She was horribly confused – she hated Jaime for what she was doing to her, but she loved what Jaime was doing to her. Before today, Lucy would’ve never guessed another woman could force herself upon her, but now… now she began to wonder why she hadn’t been with a woman before.

Jaime was panting hard and fast now, hammering away at Lucy, making the smaller girl’s tits jiggle in a miniature mirror of how Jaime’s own ample breasts shook and bounced. The small insertion in Jaime’s pussy was clearly working wonders on the aggressive blonde, and her eyes were half-slit, her mouth slightly ajar, making her own breathing far easier than poor Lucy’s.

Every thrust brought Lucy closer to her unwanted orgasm. Lucy knew it was going to happen now – there was no denying it. Jaime was pounding her harder and faster than any man ever even tried to fuck the Kindergarten teacher. And Lucy hated to admit it, but she enjoyed it.

She also enjoyed the view, oddly enough. There was something so arousing about watching another woman’s breasts bounce like that – it was all Lucy could do to tear her eyes away from those massive mammaries, so clearly artificially enhanced, but flawlessly so. Lucy blushed when she realized that if her hands had been free, she would’ve been reaching for those impressive breasts.

Lucy seemed to be thinking similarly – she took both her hands and put them over Lucy’s smaller breasts, holding on tight as she continued her relentless pounding into the little brunette’s pussy. The feeling of soft-but-tough hands upon her chest nearly sent Lucy over the edge. She was so close, so damn close. She hated it, she loved it, she wanted it over, she wanted it to last forever.

And then Jaime came.

“NNaaaaaggghhhhhhhhh!” Jaime grunted, trying hard to keep herself thrusting into Lucy while a powerful climax shot through her body. Lucy’s eyes flared with fear – and frustration. She was scared to death as Jaime collapsed onto her that now that the bank robber was done with her, she’d simply kill Lucy and be done with her. And she was frustrated, because Lucy’s own orgasm had been so close when Jaime stopped.

“Everthing okay in here?” Lucy glanced over to see the tattooed robber – Megan Fox – standing in the doorway.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Jaime said, rolling off Lucy, the strap-on waving in the air above her crotch, glistening with Lucy’s juices. “Girl’s good. You should try her.”

“Maybe later – what happened to her clothes?”

“Who cares?” Jaime asked, slowly sitting up, patting Lucy’s bare pussy with one of her hands, making the smaller woman jump a bit. “She don’t need any.”

“She will tomorrow when we have to leave,” Megan said carefully.

“Well, fuck, too late. I tore her clothes all up. Go out and buy her some.”

“I’m not going to-” Megan stopped. “Fine, I’ll take her downstairs and see if there’s anything left in the store.”

Jaime stood up and sniffed the air. “Might want to wash her off first – girl smells like sex.” Jaime winked down at Lucy. “Not that I’m complainin’, sweets.”

Lucy moaned into her gag.

“What are you going to do?” Megan asked as Jaime – still only wearing her strap-on – walked out of the room.

“Don’t know,” Jaime said. “Maybe fuck another hostage. I could totally cum again tonight. Or maybe grab a beer…”

Megan sighed, and looked over at Lucy. “Come on, let’s get you showered and downstairs,” the tattooed robber said at last.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tammin Sursok had a few bad habits. She twirled her hair when she was nervous, she tapped her foot when she was impatient, and she liked to look at herself when having sex near mirrors. She was doing two of those three bad habits now, sitting in her cubicle, twirling her hair and tapping her toes, waiting for the phone records for Hayden Panettiere, Ashley Benson, and on a hunch, Troian Bellisario to come in. They were taking forever, but considering the increasing lateness of the hour, that wasn’t all that surprising.

At that moment, Tammin wished she had someone to have sex with, because she could use the stress relief and the time killer.

“Hey, we’ve got something!” Agent Smythe called out, drawing the attention of Tammin, Kristen Bell, and Jessica Biel. “SFPD came through with something competent for once.”

“What’ve you got?” Jessica asked as the three women gathered around Smythe’s desk.

“The crooks did a pretty solid job blocking the cameras at the bank, but they forgot about Chloe’s Used Books and Clothes down the street,” Smythe said. “Chloe’s has been broken into six times in the last 8 months, so the owner got a video camera security system. Closed circuit, no internet connection at all.”

“So no way for them to hack into it,” Kristen said.

“SFPD sent over the best bits. We knew a blonde walked into the bank, managing to keep her face from any of their cameras, and helped knock out the guards – well, here she is.” Smythe’s screen lit up with the face of a gorgeous woman, flawless save for a small mole on the side of her face.

“Whoa,” all three women said at once.

“Yeah, my reaction, too,” Smythe said. “Got the computers working on facial ID, so far no hits, but she’s only the start of our little goldmine.”

“You’ve got something else?” Biel asked.

“You remember when the criminals came out?”

“Yeah, with hostages,” Kristen said.

“Including a naked one,” Smythe said, bringing up the image of the young naked woman rushing out the door. The image was framed just right so that both her breasts were on the screen, and the only thing keeping her crotch from view was the bag one of the masked women was carrying, no doubt filled with cash.

“Are we looking at this for any reason other than the fact this girl’s cute?” Kristen asked.

“Hang on, here’s the facial,” Smythe said, eyeing Tammin in a way that made it clear he had chosen that phrase specifically for her to hear. “There,” he said, pausing it. She was young, late teens, no more than 20, and that was being generous. And she seemed to be in as much of a hurry as the robbers, not trying to resist at all.

“Do we have anything on her?” Biel asked.

“Tons – well, comparatively,” Smythe added quickly. “She’s got a record.”

The room went quiet.

“The naked girl has a record? For what?” Bell asked quickly.

“Home invasion, breaking and entering, industrial espionage, and she’s got a long record of cracking safes.”

“Safecracking? She’s what, 12?” Biel asked.

“Nah, she’s perfectly legal to be running around naked, especially in this town,” Smythe said. “But even that record isn’t the best part. Wait until you hear who she is.”

All the girls looked at him expectantly.

“Her name is Emma Roberts,” he said, an eyebrow raised as if that name was all he needed to say.

“Gonna need more than that, Smythe,” Bell remarked.

“As in the Roberts crime family,” Smythe added, a little surprise in his voice, as if he was surprised to learn none of the girls had heard of them.

“Wait, the Roberts crime family,” Biel said. “As in Julia Roberts, the mob boss?”

“The same Julia Roberts who was gunned down while on vacation in Greece last year?” Tammin asked.

“Same family, slightly different branch,” Smythe said. “Emma here is Eric Roberts’ daughter. Eric is Julia’s brother, and until he was killed in an awfully suspicious car crash he was a highly successful art thief and safe cracker. Seems he passed some skills on to his daughter.”

“Lovely,” Biel remarked. “So, how do we find her?”

“No known addresses here in San Fran, or anywhere in California for that matter. Last known habitat was an apartment in NYC – local office already has someone going over there to check it out, but no one expects them to find anything.”

“Consider it a dead end unless the locals come back with something quality. Has this Roberts chick ever worked with a group before?”

“Never, but the being naked part is in her MO,” Smythe replied. “She strips down to crack safes. Finds clothes too distracting, somehow.”

“She’s distracting enough to everyone else like that,” Tammin muttered.

“Wait a minute – the safe in the bank was blown open,” Kristen pointed out. “If this Roberts chick was so good, why couldn’t she just crack the safe without resorting to explosives?”

“Not enough time?” Biel wondered.

“Maybe she messed something up inside, and didn’t have another choice,” Tammin offered.

“Good call, BJ,” Biel said. “What was her last local crime here in San Fran?”

“Broke into a safe in the Countdown Communications offices. She was after a rather expensive diamond that ended up in there, but ended up taking some key files on their plans to buy out a competitor. She would’ve gotten away with it, too, except the guard on duty that night was running behind in his patrols, and showed up after he was already supposed to have passed by. Walked in on her buck naked with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.”

“What happened?”

“She was arrested, but a lawyer showed up and got her charges reduced from felony breaking and entering to misdemeanor public indecency for being naked.”

“Helluva lawyer,” Bell said. “Who was it?”

“Woman by the name of Reiko Aylesworth, she’s a major player for Lychan Hollowman law firm here in town,” Smythe said. “Got her address and everything, if you’re interested.”

“Bell, take BJ here and go see if Miss Aylesworth knows anything about Emma Roberts’ current location,” Jessica ordered. “We’ll keep in touch from here.”
* * * * * * * * * *

With the others off elsewhere, Blake Lively and Roselyn Sanchez had the room to themselves; the TV was off, and there wasn’t anything playing music.

“I got a question,” the leader of the gang said after they’d sat in silence for a few minutes.

Blake studied Roselyn’s face; nothing dangerous there. “Go ahead.”

Roselyn bit the bullet. “Why don’t you like girls?”

“Why don’t you like boys?” Blake countered.

Roselyn was tempted to tell her it was none of her damn business; it would have been true, and she’d have been well within her rights to say so. The trouble was, Blake would have been justified in throwing that response right back in her face – and she’d brought it up in the first place.

“I used to,” she answered. “At least, I thought I did. But then I met Cat. I was in a bad relationship when she came into my life… she saved me. Showed me who I really was – I took off one night, never looked back.” Her face took on a blissful aspect as she thought of her beloved; Roselyn would have given anything to know what she was doing now. If only she could sneak a phone call. Anything to hear her and Joshua…

“So this Cat’s your partner?”

“No, she left me before I could tell her how I felt. Alicia’s my partner… my *wife* one day, I hope. I met her when she was pregnant and dumped by the dad; we were each other’s missing pieces. Now we’ve got a beautiful little boy…”

“I couldn’t be a mother,” Blake admitted. “I’ve got too much trouble taking care of myself without having to worry about a kid.”

“But come on, it’s your turn… why don’t you like girls? Have you not found the right one?” Roselyn chuckled.

“You’re not the first person who’s asked me that,” the blonde admitted, stretching her legs. “But honestly, I just don’t… it’s just not natural for me.”

Roselyn was glad that Blake had said those last two words.

“I’ve had one or two guys ask me if I’d do it with a girl while they watched – I let them down easy. And then I let them do anything they want to me. You know what got me through the time with Emma Roberts? Thinking about boys… otherwise I’d have risked an assault charge, and I’m not into fighting.”

“I know – you’re a lover, not a…”

“Yeah, like the old song. Anyway,” Blake continued, ignoring Roselyn’s gasp at the word “old,” “I need to get a little freshened up – back in about half an hour.” And getting to her feet, she left Roselyn alone and padded towards the bathroom.

She did have to get “a little freshened up,” but she also needed some alone time. Blake had made a hefty amount from this job, even minus what she’d relieved Rhona’s brother of (she had no illusions that Mitra would forget THAT), but it was a team effort; what she got from her customers/targets was all her own. As she entered the small, sparsely furnished but clean bathroom, Blake reflected that some more jobs further down the coast was what she needed when this was done. A lot further down the coast. Like, say, Caracas or Rio.

Blake began to dance, swaying to music only she could hear. Closing her eyes, she took herself away from this closed-down lingerie outlet to a private party, the kind Blake often found herself at. The kind where no one dared let anyone else know they were, especially not their wives or girlfriends. At this party Blake Lively was the only woman, and she was lapping up the cheers and whistles as she danced for them, going from one man to the next. Blake dressed for men, lived for men, and lived off men, and she wasn’t ashamed of it.

Nor was she ashamed of each man caressing her as she took off each piece of clothing, an action in her mind mirrored in reality by her clothes being shed while her hands moved over her undulating body. The top, the bra, the dress, all slipped off with practised ease and dropped to the floor; soon Blake was down to that thong. And even sooner, that was gone as well. Sighing blissfully, the long fingers of Blake’s right hand slid along her flesh and into her pussy hairs, slowly moving along the lips.

Working herself with years of practice, her thumb and forefinger rolled her lovebutton between them while her middle finger started to probe between the lips, seeking out all the spots that fired her up.

“Do you like it?” she whispered to her imaginary audience. “Do you want more of it?” She sank to her knees, seeing the men moving in around her. They were so easy; they all wanted her, and they’d do anything to be with her. And it was almost always vice versa; Blake was good at making men imagine she wanted nothing more than to be their slaves, but deep down she kind of did. She just didn’t want to be tied down to more than one – she liked playing with guys, and she liked to make them pay for the privilege. But she also liked them to enjoy it, so they wouldn’t mind that much…

The first time Blake had had a whole gaggle of guys around her with their enormous hard-ons aimed at her was when she was 16; as she writhed on the ground, thrusting and groaning with her right hand soaking under the feel of her cunt, she was back there with the men at that birthday party, every single one pumping their cocks and waiting to decorate eager-to-please teenage Blake with their cum. Blake hadn’t taken any cash, but they had all been very, very nice to her from that point on… the girl had revelled in feeling each splatter and hearing every approving yell as her body shook and shuddered while she cried in happiness. And as the mid-20s blonde writhed and groaned, telling the invisible audience she wanted them with her all damn night, she was happy again.

So was Roselyn, on her knees by the bathroom door, peering through the keyhole. She had a perfect view of Blake on the floor, arching back and bending upwards, with a shot of Miss Lively’s asshole wide open and her right hand underneath working her snatch; Roselyn gasped, and was lucky that Blake was too involved with herself to notice. The darkhaired woman watched as Blake rolled over and thrashed on the ground, calling out to a bunch of people in her head that she was theirs forever, telling them to fuck her when she was done, to please fuck her fuck her FUCK HER…

For once, Roselyn wished she had a penis as she watched Blake throw her head up toward the ceiling and scream loudly, her perky tits pointing the incredibly hard nipples upwards and her legs wide apart as she finished, sweaty and shaking as she offered her juice-soaked hand to someone. “Go ahead… lick it…” the blonde moaned, finishing off the fantasy as she started to dress. “You know you want to.”

Feeling a little soaked herself, Roselyn moved away from the door, mentally reviewing the little show Blake Lively had just on as she stood up and started to jog a little on the spot.

“Oh, you wanted the room? I’m sorry!” Blake gasped as she opened the door a few moments later, and saw Roselyn doing her “I need the bathroom” dance.

“We’re both women – we know how long it can take,” Roselyn said reassuringly, “racing” inside as the blonde stepped out.

By herself, Roselyn sat down and placed her hand between her legs; this time there was no one watching through the hole…

* * * * * * * * * *

Nearly half an hour had passed since Jamie had forcefully taken Lucy’s anal virginity. As she made her way down to the alleyway following behind Megan Fox, she still walked gingerly as Megan kneeled in front of the locked door.

“W-what is this place?” Lucy timidly asked.

“Don’t know, just heard it was a clothing store.” Megan said as she swiftly picked the back lock and reached above the door pulling out the cords that powered the alarm. Megan pulled open the back door and shoved Lucy inside.

Once inside the store they finally realized where they were.

“Victoria’s Secret, unbelievable,” Megan said as she looked around the store. Lucy clinched the towel closer to her body and looked around the store, even briefly looking back toward the door they just entered.

Megan, sensing Lucy’s movements, spun around and pointed a gun at the frightened teacher.

“Don’t get any ideas honey, you’re here to get some new clothes and that’s it.”

“B-but I can’t wear lingerie up there…with her.” Lucy said, her voice shaking.

Megan put her gun down on the counter. “Relax kiddo, she’s had her fun with you she’s not gonna go after you again…” she said, putting her hands on Lucy’s shoulders – a simple act that seemed to calm Lucy’s nerves. Megan rubbed Lucy’s shoulders briefly as they looked around the store.

After a few minutes of looking over the racks, Lucy called out to Megan “Doesn’t Victoria’s Secret sell regular clothes, like sweat pants and stuff?”

“I think so, but apparently this branch doesn’t carry them. Looks like you’re stuck with the sexy stuff,” Megan replied as she held a couple of random bras to her chest and checked herself out in the mirror.

“I may have to steal some of this stuff for myself,” Megan thought as Lucy found a rack of pajamas and grabbed the first pair that looked like they fit her.

“HEY, where are you going?” Megan shouted reaching for her pistol.

“T-the changing room,” Lucy said, pointing to the rooms at the back of the store. Megan looked back, then grabbed a chair from behind the counter and planted it a few feet from the curtain.

“You can model the stuff for me then,” Megan said with a hint of lust in her voice. Lucy, after all that had been done to her so far tonight, simply blushed and went in the room. After a few moments and a few whispered curse words from Lucy while in the changing room, Megan spoke up.

“What’s taking so long?”

“Um, it’s not….it’s….too small,” Lucy replied.

“It’s what?” Megan chuckled.

“It’s too small for me. It won’t fit,” Lucy replied, embarrassed.

Megan stood up and opened the curtain, and Lucy quickly covered her breasts even thought the top was still on. Megan looked at Lucy and chuckled again.

“What?” Lucy asked, finally cracking a smile.

“You’re a foot tall, if this won’t fit you then I dont think anything small will,” Megan said as she went back to her seat.

“I guess I should find something else then,” Lucy shyly replied as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Megan sat and waited by the dressing room watching to make sure Lucy didn’t try to escape but trying to be suprised at Lucy’s choices.

Lucy rushed back into the dressing room and closed the curtain with a wink toward Megan.

“This is gonna be fun,” Megan said to herself as she put her gun down.

A few minutes later Lucy stepped out of the dressing room wearing a bustier set. The sides were slit up with red ribbon lacing. She also had on a garter belt attached to a pair of thigh high red stockings and a pair of black frilly panties, Lucy could feel Megan’s eyes on her.

“What do you think?” Lucy asked as she spun around, briefly stopping so Megan could look at her ass.

“Uh…” Megan started, briefly flustered by Lucy’s display “…I like it, but personally I think it makes you look like jailbait.”

“Jailbait? Why I oughta…” Lucy joked, feeling infinitely more comfortable with Megan then she did before, even briefly forgetting Megan’s gun on the floor. Megan laughed as Lucy again closed the curtain.

A few more minutes passed and Megan began to get impatient as she heard Lucy struggling with her outfit.

“Everything ok?” Megan asked.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m almost done,” Lucy replied. A few seconds later, Megan’s jaw dropped as she saw Lucy come out of the dressing room. Lucy again struck a pose, leaning on a wall shooting a smoldering look at Megan.

“Wow,” Megan replied.

“You like?” Lucy asked, the flirting in her voice even more obvious now.

“You went in a girl, you came out a woman. I mean, you were cute in the bank, but this…this…wow.” Megan stood up and ran her hand along the satin lace corset that Lucy had on, she admired how cute Lucy’s bottom looked in the black lace panties.

The feel of her captor’s hand on her waist spurred Lucy on; just this morning she never would have thought she would be with a woman but she wanted this tattooed woman and she wanted her now. Lucy reached up and pulled Megan in for a kiss on the lips.

“I was wondering when this was gonna happen,” Megan said as she lifted Lucy up so the smaller girl could wrap her legs around her and begin kissing her more forcefully. Megan balanced Lucy against the wall and ripped the corset down the middle and tossed it on the floor. Megan shrugged out of her tank top and Lucy started licking Megan’s breasts.

Lucy moved from one breast to another, sucking and licking the tattooed woman’s hard nipples as if seeking to be fed like a baby. The younger woman’s nipples, which were tiny compared to Megan’s, rapidly became erect under the caresses of her young teacher. Megan gripped Lucy’s hair and drew her head away from the nipples.

“Lick me, I need it right now.” said the older woman and Lucy immediately dropped to her knees between Megan thighs. Lucy’s lingerie was tattered and forgotten on the floor as she thrust her face into Megan’s wet pussy, the moisture glistening even in the dark of the shop.

“Oh yes. You are a quick learner, Lucy. You have got my pussy purring already. Use your fingers too, dear.” Lucy complied with Megan’s instructions, happy to be pleasing the older woman.

“Concentrate on my clit with your tongue.” Lucy slid two of her fingers into Megan while lapping away and gently nibbling on her clit. It was not long before Lucy’s ministrations brought Megan to climax for the first time.

“Excellent work, Lucy,” said Megan as she pulled the cunt-juice covered face from between her thighs. “Time to give you a workout. On all fours now.”

As Lucy obeyed the order in eager anticipation, Megan looked over the suddenly compliant teacher and swooned slightly. Lucy screamed with delight as Megan swiped her tongue over Lucy’s wetness, then added two fingers to the nibbling on her clit. Megan’s licking changed speeds rapidly from slow and steady to frantic and forceful and back again, the sensation seeming to drive Lucy mad.

“This is what it’s supposed to feel like,” Lucy thought to herself as she slid her hand down and started to rub her own clit, but Megan slapped her hand away.

“No touching, slut,” Megan purred as she returned to her licking. Lucy didn’t even object to being called a slut as Megan’s tongue delved into her licking and sucking her in a way she had never been done before. Lucy’s moans could be heard all the way into the hideout, Megan slid a finger deep into Lucy and the girl fell face first into the carpet in orgasm.

“Oh…oh wow…that was…..wow,” Lucy managed to stammer when she finally regained her strength. She looked around the store and saw Megan rummaging around the racks. Lucy managed to get enough of her energy to get back to her feet.

“Found it,” Megan managed to say after Lucy had fully regained her strength.

“What did you find?” Lucy asked.

“Well, since what you were supposed to wear is no longer a viable option, I found something else…” Megan said tossing a ball of black lace toward Lucy and led her back to the dressing room. “…you’re gonna look so sexy in this.”

Lucy blushed and smiled closing the dressing room door.

Megan sat back down on her chair and waited. After a few minutes she called out “You almost done?”

“Yeah, just got to finish up these snaps. You’re right…” Lucy giggled. “…I do look sexy in this.”

At that moment the door opened and Lucy stepped out. Once she took it all in Megan’s jaw dropped. “Damn, I know how to pick ‘em,” Megan thought to herself.

Lucy was clad in a black lace and mesh teddy that barely held her tiny boobs in; Megan was sure she could see Lucy’s pussy through the panties, and her legs were covered in black lace stocking held up by a garter belt.

“Wow….we need to get you back up there before they think I ran off with you,” Megan said checking her watch and looking at Lucy for as long as she possibly could.

“W-what about the blonde?’ Lucy asked suddenly fearful.

“I’ll keep you out of her sight for as long as possible, but I dont know how long that will be,” Megan promised taking off her leather jacket and putting it around Lucy. Megan pulled Lucy toward the door but Lucy stopped her.

“Um…what about shoes?” Lucy asked biting her lip slightly. Megan looked behind the cashier station and lo and behold there was a pair of four inch black pumps. Megan handed them to Lucy and she slipped them on not even noticing that they fit her perfectly.

“We really have to go now,” Megan said to Lucy as they headed back to the hideout, Lucy clutching Megan as they did.

* * * * * * * * *

The second they’d put the hostages on the bed, Hayden’s eyes had started going over the room looking for something sharp-edged – no matter where it was, she was prepared to fall off the bed and crawl towards it to try and cut these bonds.

That’s how she’d felt at first, but with her being alone (apart from the raven-haired girl and the redhead, neither of whom were in the mood for even mumbling) she’d had time to think over where she was. Other than in an abandoned Victoria’s Secret.

On the one hand, this was a bad place to be – kidnapped and at the mercy of a gang of robbers. On the other hand, only one of them seemed like a psycho… the rest of them didn’t look like they were too fond of her (or each other, except possibly for the tall dark one and that girl who broke into stuff naked), so if worst came to worst they just might be able to control her. Plus, if you had to be kidnapped by bank robbers it might as well be hot bank robbers.

That was one reason why Hayden had decided to do what she did; from the leader to the wheelgirl, there wasn’t one who didn’t moisten her panties. Especially that tall blonde… it was easier to play along with them, get into their good books the best way she knew how. It would make her time here easier, plus when this was over she’d likely have the whole story behind the group.

Just as long as the first one wasn’t that gun-crazy blonde…

The door opened and one of said hot girls entered. Both Hayden and JoAnna exhaled as much as they could through their gags when they saw it was Grace Park, even with a blade in her hand.

“How are you guys doing?” she asked amiably, patting JoAnna’s head and smiling at Hayden. “Sorry it isn’t the Ritz, but we’re on a budget. The teller’s reserved, or I’d cut her out right now. You, on the other hand,” she added as she rolled the reporter over and pressed the blade to the bonds (and her other hand to Hayden’s ass), “we got business to attend to.”

Grace flicked the blade and the gag fell from the reporter’s mouth, with the hands and feet freed a moment later. She tensed herself, prepared to punch Hayden if she whirled around and tried to fight; instead, the blonde pixie turned over, propped herself up and gave her a coy little smile.

“I was hoping it would be you,” she said softly.

“Huh?” asked the hacker, caught somewhere between puzzled and – well – pleased. “Who are you, and what did you to Palpatine?”

Hayden took Grace’s free hand and, with no resistance, rested it on the area of her dress above her crotch. “Before we go any further… it’s Panettiere. You wanna play with me, get it right. Or you can just call me Hayden.”

“Uhh… what are you doing… Hayden?”

“Come on, Nerd Girl; I saw how you looked in the parking space. We’re going to be together for a while… hostages have rights.” Hayden gave her another smile. “That thing in the van – I was just trying to get a point across. I wouldn’t *really* have shot you.”

Grace hadn’t been so sure, but maybe that had been the girl’s intent. The important thing was, she was still intact. And the desire in the girl’s eyes had been there all the time, and was there now. If Hayden was toying with her, this was a game the hacker didn’t mind playing.

“Grace,” she said, getting off the bed and beckoning to the reporter. “My name’s Grace Park.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Hayden replied, rising and leaving with Grace.

Behind them, JoAnna Garcia’s eyes were saying “What the fuck just happened?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“You know,” Hayden said as they entered one of the few remaining free rooms, “if I had a cock I’d want lips like yours around it.”

“Oh, you’re going to be the dom here? Don’t think so,” Grace laughed. “Remember, you said I could kiss your ass…”

She pushed Hayden onto the softly-carpeted floor, and the reporter obligingly hiked her dress up. Grace sighed; Hayden was blessed with beautiful legs for someone so short and unthin, and she had great taste in underwear as well. The silk fabric hugged those soft little mounds sticking out above her thighs like they knew what was underneath.

“You can take them off if you want,” Hayden said softly. “Just don’t rip them.”

“We’re in a Victoria’s Secret,” Grace pointed out, but that didn’t keep her from taking the edge of the panties and pulling them down the reporter’s legs as Hayden unzipped her dress and shrugged it off, uncoupling her bra as she did. Hayden smiled to herself when she heard Grace whistle on seeing her uncovered buns.

“You have got a CLASSIC ass,” the hacker said admiringly. “Jaime’s always bragging about how hot hers is, but I’d fuck yours over hers any day. But first…”

Grace knelt down as if she was before royalty and gave each of Hayden’s asscheeks a long kiss, before pressing her lips to the cleft. She kissed it and licked it, burrowing her tongue inside and touching the opening of the blonde pixie’s asshole. Grace rested her hands on Hayden’s buns, probing and squeezing as she munched; it was times like this that she wished she had a tongue like a lizard – no matter how deep she probed inside it wasn’t deep enough.

“Mmmm… yes… almost as nice as my girl…” Hayden moaned.

It failed to put Grace off that Hayden was in a relationship. Heck, she was flattered that she was matching up in this respect. Still with her hands on the blonde’s cushions, Grace slid up her back and kissed her shoulder blades; Hayden turned around and kissed the hacker on the lovely full lips, running her hands through her long black hair before pulling her T-shirt off.

“Not wearing a bra?” the blonde asked.

“Do I need one?” Grace cracked.

Hayden carefully inspected her perky little tits – if she had known Grace was 37 (the oldest member of the gang other than Roselyn), she’d never have believed it. “No. No, you don’t.”

Grace began to nuzzle the blonde’s smaller but just as sweet rack as Hayden undid the hacker’s jeans. “C’mon, I bet your butt’s just as nice…”

The jeans were kicked off, followed by Grace’s underwear. The two women lay together, loving how their breasts felt against each other and each with a hand roaming along the other’s pussy. Grace was delighted to find Hayden was relatively smooth below; she liked access to be as easy as possible. Hayden, in turn, was happy to find her fingers exploring a virtual jungle between Grace’s legs; that way the journey was as fun as the destination.

They kissed again, Hayden putting a little more passion into her side of the lip action as she slid a finger into Grace’s hot box. She intended to replace her finger with her tongue before long, but first she wanted a bit more of Grace’s lips…

* * * * * * * * * *

Jaime didn’t give a shit about recycling; the crumpled beer cans lying unmourned next to the bin (she didn’t give a shit about being tidy either), she strutted back to the bedroom. One down, and really only one to go.

She loved fucking straight girls, and maybe before this was over she’d have time to teach that bank teller a lesson – not the way she REALLY wanted (Jaime would have loved to put a bullet through her brain, in the unlikely event Carrot-top had one) – but first of all, she had a trouble-making gun-losing reporter to get in line. Entering the room, she expected to see the remaining hostages’s eyes take on the proportions of those on Japanese cartoon girls on seeing her striding around with the Lucy Hale-flavoured strap-on.

She was half right; JoAnna’s eyes widened all right, but hers were the only ones that did. The teller had the bed all to herself – no height-challenged blondes anywhere in the place. So either Hayden Christensen or whatever the fuck her name was had turned invisible or…

Seething, she marched over to the bed and pulled JoAnna’s gag down from her mouth; the redhead gasped as Jaime glared down at her.

“Midget, midget… who’s got the midget?”

“That girl Grace!” JoAnna blurted out in about half a second. She hadn’t forgotten how they’d gotten on in the bank, and she really wanted to stay on her good side.

It worked; Jaime stormed out without a word.

* * * * * * * * * *

Hayden Panettiere and Grace Park weren’t saying a word either. Mainly because the blonde and the blackhaired woman were lying side by side with their heads buried between each other’s legs and their hands eagerly fondling each other’s behinds. This was one of the least vicious circles ever; Hayden’s busy mouth tasting and licking Grace’s wonderful mound and fingering deep inside her ass heated up Grace, driving her on to return the favour, which made Hayden eat and probe even harder, and so on.

Hayden moved her tongue away from Grace and traced a path with it from her quim to her starfish, never letting her tongue leave the skin for a second. She loved how Grace’s body arced in delight the second her tongue touched her backdoor; her pussy was nicer, but not much.

And now she was beginning to boil inside as Grace’s hungry mouth began to complete its work; Hayden wanted to delay it for a while, but she couldn’t hold off… the good news was that she wasn’t finished with this girl yet, not even close. Hayden yelled into Grace’s openings as she found herself coming, bucking and slamming against the hacker as she let her mouth go; immediately preparing for round two, she turned herself around to face the beaming Grace.

“Wanna race?”

“Huh?”

Grace held a hand up. “A little finger-fucking before I get out the big guns… we’ve all got our own dildos with us to get us through the night. You win, you get to use mine to fuck me. I win… you STILL get to fuck me.”

“Like the prizes,” Hayden laughed.

“You earned it. I figure anyone who pisses off Saline Tits the way you did in the van can’t be all bad,” Grace continued.

“Saline Tits?”

“That southern fried blonde gun freak who can’t remember anyone’s name. She can’t stand it if you don’t remember HERS though – or if you think her rack’s fake. Even though it is,” Grace added with a wink as she rested her hand of choice on Hayden’s crotch, fondling her slit. Eager for another shot at that lovely bushy pussy, the blonde thrust her fingers down below, ready to go.

“On three… one, two, thREEE…” Grace’s voice rose a good three octaves as Hayden slid her fingers inside, maintaining a perfect rhythm as the digits moved through her box. Not to be outdone, Grace thrust her slim fingers inside the blonde, and was rewarded as her mouth dropped open almost at once; for a second Grace thought she might have another Kara Thrace on her hands (so to speak) – she had made that blonde come within like two SECONDS. Damn, that felt good.

Hayden was made of stronger stuff, but Grace’s fingers were flying within her like she was at a keyboard; it seemed everything she touched was sending off sparks. She panted and gasped as her own hand increased the pace, poking in and out of the lady and wishing she could stop for a second and lick, to taste Grace once more. Hayden gave Grace’s lovebutton a little tweak, and was rewarded when the Park digits actually paused briefly – not long enough to break the sensation, but long enough for Hayden to notice.

Their cunts mutually heating up, the two sank to the floor and rolled over; with Grace’s eyes closed and Hayden on top. Grace’s other hand had been prodding and stroking her ass; Hayden could feel the fingers going inside – wow, she had big fingers. Really big…

“Oh, *fuck*,” she said out loud. That was NOT a finger. Whatever it was, it was thick and lubed, and doing a really good job of stretching her asshole. Hayden’s mouth gaped as whatever it was continued to core up her, her ability to speak lost between Grace’s thrusting and whatever – or WHOEVER – was behind her.

“Miss me, Smurfette?” Jaime cackled, sliding the strap-on in and out of Hayden’s upraised booty as she clamped her hands on the smaller blonde’s shoulders. “Nothing like a nice juicy ass to wrap up the day… thanks for making it so easy for me…”

Grace’s eyes opened when she heard that twangy voice, and closed them again on seeing Jaime grinning behind Hayden, pumping away, those well-made fake boobies jerking like a madwoman. She did NOT want that psycho’s face getting in the way of Hayden’s hand action, even if it was helping to power her up.

In between the robbers, Hayden was living the dream – she loved getting it in the ass, but even in college she’d never managed to be in a situation with more than one woman (bad luck, she put it down to) where she could have it at both doors. Oooh, yes… say what you want about that freak, she knew how to work a rod. It moved so fast and true inside Hayden’s rear, and even though she suspected Jaime was only interested in pleasing herself, her ass was getting it like she’d never had it before. Not even from Troian, much as she hated to admit it.

Between the pounding from Jaime and the way Grace was revving her up in front, Hayden wasn’t sure whether her pussy or asshole would make her come… grabbing one of Grace’s shoulders, she screamed out loud as she started slamming back and forth between them. As fast as her hand was, Grace’s was even faster…

“BEST EVER!!!” she howled, feeling a sudden dampness inside her back door; Jaime’s device had worked. The sweating reporter felt herself dripping between her legs over Grace’s fingers – she’d lost, but it felt great.

Hayden rested on Grace’s gorgeous form, kissing her neck as the hacker stroked her hair and back. “You did good, kid,” she told the blonde.

“Hate to break up the Hallmark moment, but you’re jumping my claim,” Jaime snapped, getting off Hayden but for some reason continuing to keep her hand on the reporter’s ass, fondling it in a manner that was almost affectionate.

“Oh yeah…” Hayden said lazily, as if she had been expecting it.

“Since you’ve got such a sweet back bumper I ain’t gonna kick you off – you can get up by yourself. I got a job for Lotus Blossom here.”

“Sheesh, couldn’t you at least come up with a KOREAN name?” Grace grumbled as she watched Hayden crawl off her; Jaime hadn’t given her butt quite the same pounding as Troian had gotten, but it would be a little while before she could walk.

“Ain’t they all the same?” Jaime cackled. “Anyway, I bet you got those cock-sucking lips of yours up the Hobbit’s chute – you want seconds?”

Grace raised an eyebrow at the very idea that she’d let an actual penis in her mouth, but she cast her eyes on Hayden’s rump and beamed.

Jaime snapped her fingers. “Eyes right, geek. I got enough of her asshole flavouring my little friend here,” she added, pointing to the strap-on. “Clean it off for me.”

It wasn’t straight from the source, but whatever. Grace got to her feet… well, her palms and knees… and headed over to the blonde standing over her, hands on her hips and strap-on aimed right at her face. Grace ran her tongue along the tip of it, wishing that she’d been the one wearing it but satisfied with the knowledge that hers was bigger. Adding to her wish list the desire that Hayden was behind her wielding Edgemont (her pet name for her toy – Grace named it after the place she’d first had sex), she wrapped her lips around the device and started to suck it hard enough to pull the lacquer off.

Jaime nodded in approval. “You know, for someone who hates dicks you go like you’ve sucked enough…”

Grace, her eyes closed, gave her the bird with both hands without letting up on the swallowing. Jaime just laughed as she checked out Hayden, who was scanning the dark-haired lady – it looked like she wasn’t sure whether to crawl under her and taste some more of those yummy swaying Asian boobs or try and eat her snatch out from behind.

Hayden started stroking Grace’s lovely slim legs; she rubbed herself against them like a cat, licking and kissing the backs of her thighs. Taking one of her calves in her hands, Hayden crouched down and started to lightly lick the foot at the end of it; Grace had beautiful toes, all lovely and suckable.

She flicked her tongue along the top of each toe, briefly sucking each one before she pulled herself back a little and rested the foot on her pussy, moving them along each other as much for her own enjoyment as Grace’s. It helped that Grace decided to wriggle one or two of the toes while she was there… moving her other hand up and over Grace’s behind, Hayden shivered with happiness as the big toe actually slid inside her.

Grace was liking how Jaime’s device was tasting; she could tell it had been up someone else other than the tiny blonde – someone with a very tasty snatch. Along with Hayden’s rear entrance, this made two great tastes that went well together… she started to rest her hands on Jaime’s ass, before they were slapped away.

“That’s for fun size there,” she snapped, before giving Grace’s head a further slap. “You did your job… looks like you did it pretty well.”

“I had some help,” the hacker smiled, relishing Hayden’s hands on her legs and her tongue running along her feet.

“So she likes the legs, huh? Well, she’s about to work on the best – hit the road, Crouching Tiger!” And Jaime yanked Grace’s head back by the hair to underline the point.

“Hey, c’mon!” Hayden protested. “I wasn’t finished!”

“YOU weren’t finished?!?” Grace argued.

“Don’t worry, asshole,” Jaime grinned. “You’ll get another chance.”

“Oh great, first you get the races mixed up now you can’t even quote a *good* movie,” Grace muttered as she got to her feet, swapping sorrowful glances with the reporter. She’d been looking forward to playing with Hayden’s legs herself, maybe get into a little cosplay later – Grace could just see herself fucking the blonde pixie while they were dressed as cheerleaders.

“Jaime’s right,” she told Hayden. “You’ll get another chance.”

“Looking forward to it,” the blonde said, perking up and watching Grace’s yummy and still naked body leave, picking up her clothes as she did. “I can show you my party trick.”

“Oh, believe me, when we’re done you ain’t never gonna want some of that yellow lovin’ again,” Jaime laughed, dropping down to Hayden’s level and putting an arm around her. “Now let’s get down to business… that’s a nice perky rack you got there. Could stand to be bigger, but you gotta work with what you got. Or rather, *I* gotta work with what you got.”

“You what now?”

“You owe me a gun,” Jaime continued, poking Hayden’s breasts. “And I’m gonna take it out on these… sit still, huh?”

“Is that why you came in with that?” Miss Panettiere said calmly, pointing to Jaime’s waist. Or rather, to the belt she had tied around it when she’d left JoAnna, the only item she had on other than the strap-on.

“Expectin’ this, huh?”

“Best to just take the medicine… let you have your fun.”

Jaime nodded, unbuckling the belt. “I’d love to do this to your butt, but looks to me like it’s plump enough so you wouldn’t feel a thing. Gotta tell ya, I’ve seen black girls with less booty than what you got.”

Hayden, who’d been told several times that she had the best ass they’d ever seen on a white girl, took the compliment in the matter it was intended.

“But up there you ain’t got much, so… you ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Jaime cackled, pulling the strap back. “Saying what I want to hear ain’t gonna save you – you cost me one of my best weapons, Itty Bitty, and that can’t go unpunished. I had that for nine years, and that’s one year for each lash. And it’s gonna HURT… you make a sound and I add another lash, clear?”

Hayden noted how hard Jaime was gripping the end of the belt; she had definitely done stuff like this before. Inside she was sweating, but outside she eyed the robber and nodded.

WHACK!

It was like the Flash with this one; one second Jaime had been standing with the belt out, the next it had cracked across Hayden’s breasts, stinging her nipples and flying off her body like a snake. The pain was sharp and fast, but the reporter didn’t say a word, even though her body jerked under the impact.

CRACK!

Jaime slammed the strap harder this time, bringing it straight down Hayden’s left breast. This time there was a small red line starting to develop, made redder by the next crack. Hayden was shaking, but even though her nipples were stinging she didn’t make a peep.

The cracks and slaps echoed through the room as Jaime continued to beat Hayden’s chest, leaving red hot straplines decorating her breasts; the tiny blonde could have just grabbed the belt and fought back, but that wouldn’t have played well for either of them. Hayden’s teeth weren’t as clenched as Jaime’s, who was putting her heart and soul into each and every blow. The way her eyes were lighting up showed she would have happily continued until Hayden began to bleed…

“And we’re DONE!” Jaime had reached nine times, and immediately dropped the belt, gazing down on the supine Hayden with her crimson-tinged breasts, nipples swollen a tiny bit with the blows. They’d be a little warmer and more sensitive, but they were intact. And Hayden had not made a sound.

“Like that?”

“Not supposed to LIKE it,” the reporter said, playing the role to the hilt. “I deserved it.”

“Damn right, hobbit. And if I couldn’t get you to shout one way, I’m gonna get it another. Get up on the bed.”

“Face up or face down?” Hayden asked as she got up on the bed.

“Face up. I had a great time looking at that teacher I fucked, so why mess with a good thing?” Jaime picked up the belt, and used it to tie Hayden’s wrists to the bedstead. Hard.

“You’re not gonna be wanting the redhead after this,” she smiled, rubbing Jaime with one of her calves. The robber was shocked to find herself wanting to gently run a hand through the reporter’s tresses… uh-uh, this was about Jaime. It was ALWAYS about Jaime. No arguments.

Jaime straddled Hayden, her hair falling onto the reporter’s face as she bent down and kissed her. Hayden responded at once, their tongues intertwining briefly. Jaime’s arms slid under the reporter’s back as if to pull her closer, and they stayed there, their lips together as the robber eased herself down with the strap-on targeted on Hayden’s box.

“You love this, don’t you? But I ain’t doing this for you…” Jaime reminded her, prodding Hayden’s slit. Damn, she was slick – the geisha girl must have turned her on hard. Little pre-show for the main event, anyway. Jaime started to push it into the reporter, a bit at a time – in a way she wished this reporter was made of weaker stuff because the way the wimps’ eyes widened when it was up them… but no, this girl had her eyes and was moaning, even opening her legs a little wider.

Jaime started to drive it further inside, loving the hot dampness of Lois Lane’s inner walls around the stick. And now the girl was starting to thrust back; all the way. The more Hayden pumped, the more Jaime pumped, the more she liked it. She thrust it all the way into Hayden so that their pussy hairs were touching – “EEEEEEAAAIII!” Hayden gasped, moving her tight body under Jaime.

“I ain’t nobody’s bitch, dwarf,” Jaime hissed in Hayden’s ear. “You’re mine.”

“You have GOT to start watching better movies,” the reporter smiled between gasps, and thrust towards Jaime as her upraised legs began to wrap around the robber’s back.

This time it was Jaime’s turn to widen her eyes… her device was the kind that slid back and forth with her movements, so she could please herself – but that thing had poked a bit further than she’d planned. Or it was just her imagination. Yeah… she shoved it harder, clenching her teeth and waiting for Hayden to start to give in the way every single girl (and the odd guy) she had poked with this eventually did.

What the FUCK? It was poking back again! And it was stronger that time… Jaime started to pull back, thinking that she was just being heady from banging that juicy little kindergarten teacher.

When she felt the device actually pull ITSELF back a little, Jaime’s eyes gaped. And when it pushed forward back into her, the robber almost let Hayden go… the reporter was holding Jaime around the waist and back, and had Jaime been able to put her finger inside Hayden’s pussy she would have been amazed at how tight it was. How very, very tight.

“You the kind to fire pingpong balls?” the small blonde said amiably as her pussy muscles tightened around Jaime’s strap-on harder than Miss Pressly could ever have managed or imagined, and began to jerk upwards, coring it back up Jaime. “That ain’t my party trick – anyone can do it. But this…”

Jaime could not believe this was happening; she was used to getting fun from her own strap-on, but no matter how hard she tried to push back, Hayden pumped back harder. She should have known someone this hard to control in the van would be trouble, but not THIS much trouble… and the worst thing about it was, the fucking hobbit looked as if she did this all the time. That had to be adamantium the slut had in her.

No… the worst thing about it was that Jaime was actually *liking* it; at least Boobs Leggerson looked like she wanted to puke everytime the safecracker bragged about fucking her. Little by little she struggled less and less, allowing the movement of her device to go from one cunt to the other, and wanting to strangle Hayden more and more… but it just felt so fucking good.

“I… ain’t YOUR bitch…” Hayden panted, her muscles tautened and her pussy boiling as she gripped the strap-on, coring it into Jaime. “You’re… mine…”

“I’m…”

“You want all of this? Then say it…”

“I’m… yourbitch…” Jaime spat, loving how her cunt was feeling but hating the words.

“Say it… like you mean it, and NO NICKNAMES,” the reporter whispered tensely, pumping ever harder, her butt almost wearing through the mattress.

“I’m… YOUR BITCH!” Jaime Pressly shouted, gripping Hayden fiercely as she gave in. “I AM YOUR BITCH, HAYDEN PANETTIERE, AND I HATE IT! I HATE IT!!!”

Jaime felt the end of the strap-on pump its juice into the two women as she screamed out her admission; that was the final touch, to remind them of who had really fucked who. For once that little fillip was like she’d been on the receiving end. And that, to make it worse, was the last time it could be used before she had to reload it. She was glowing, but she was also so angry she could hardly move from atop Hayden.

“You little WHORE,” she hissed.

“You’re welcome,” Hayden smiled as Jaime climbed off her, trying hard to rationalise what had just happened.

“You are one piece of work, you know that?” the robber continued, removing the strap-on in disgust. “First I lose a gun, then you go and fuck me with my own toy.”

“Girls just wanna have fun,” Hayden cooed. “Now that was a GOOD movie. Bit before my time, but…”

“Cram it, Smurfette.”

“You don’t think someone here heard you go ‘I’M YOUR BITCH, HAYDEN PANETTIERE’? I wish I had my camera here… I’m not scared of you, Saline Tits. I never was.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t ever call me that or ANYTHING other than Jaime or Miss Pressly again, Halfpint. Not if you wanna get out of this alive.” She unbuckled Hayden’s hands, glaring at her all the time, and headed for the door.

Giving her the same look she’d given JoAnna, the humiliated robber said “This ain’t over,” and left the reporter alone.

Hayden planted a kiss on her fingertips, placed it on her own pussy, and put her dress back on. And ignored the phone nestled safely inside it, still with Troian’s unread message.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lycan Hollowman was one of the larger law firms in San Francisco, which meant that while their office hours might have officially ended at 5pm, they actually worked late into the night. This was especially true for prominent members of the law firm, looking to possibly add their name onto the side of the building as a partner in the firm.

Reiko Aylesworth was well on her way towards that process, judging from the track record Kristen Bell had been able to look up during the drive over. She’d handled a lot of major cases for the firm lately, defending San Francisco’s biggest names against some sticky charges. She’d kept Freddie Prinze Jr. out of jail, despite the well known playboy ramming his Mercedes into three police cars during a high speed chase, got the manslaughter charged against Nick Swisher dropped to disorderly conduct, despite him being caught redhanded with the murder weapon, and even managed to get notorious party boy Justin Timberlake’s rape sentence slimmed down to time served – all of the 23 minutes he’d spent in a jail cell after being first arrested. In the past few years, Aylesworth had developed a bit of a miracle worker reputation that made her feared by prosecutors and loathed by judges – but beloved by high priced clients.

Which made her taking Emma Roberts’ case odd. Roberts had never contacted her, and Aylesworth had worked on retainer with no name attached to the file.

“This reeks of cover-up,” Kristen muttered as Tammin Sursok pulled the car into Lychan Hollowman’s parking garage, the nighttime lighting leaving the place looking orange and grubby.

“You think the Roberts family paid Aylesworth to get Emma off?” Tammin asked.

“Only thing that makes sense,” Kristen sighed. “Except, the timing doesn’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eric Roberts was already dead, his car crash ruled accidental, though it’s pretty common knowledge that someone cut his brake lines before he went flying over that curve into the Pacific. And while her Aunt Julia was still in charge of the Roberts crime family, she was literally shot to death 3 hours after Emma’s arrest. Considering she was in Greece at the time, she either made some really quick international phone calls, or someone else paid for Emma’s court costs.”

“It could’ve been someone else in the organization, though,” Tammin remarked as the two women got out of the car and headed towards the entrance. “Maybe even something set up so that when family members got into legal trouble, the process to hire lawyers starts automatically.”

“Yeah, that’s certainly a possibility,” Kristen admitted, “But it just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Well, that case is dead anyway – tried and finished, no double jeopardy allowed, so there’s no point worrying about it, is there?”

“Maybe,” Kristen said. She didn’t say any more to Tammin, but she couldn’t help but think that there was more to that story, and that it might even connect to the bank heist earlier today.

She shook her head. All this looking for the mysterious Rhona had her seeing conspiracies everywhere now.

They were met at the front door by a security guard who tried to turn them away, but relented when Kristen flashed her FBI ID. It took another ten minutes to hunt down Miss Aylesworth in the building, time the guard spent trying very hard to flirt with Tammin. He might have made some progress had Reiko Aylesworth not shown up when she did.

“Steven, you said there were FBI agents here?”

“Y-yes, ma’am. Agents Bell and Sursok,” the guard said, motioning towards Kristen and Tammin – in the wrong order.

Aylesworth turned right to Kristen. “Listen, if this is about Jim Parsons’ cocaine trial, I promise you, my client WILL be in the courtroom Thursday. He’s still got his locator bracelet on, he just wanted to take his yacht out for a spin and-”

Kristen held up her hand to silence the lawyer before she could ramble on much more. “We’re not here about that, Miss Aylesworth. We’re here about another of your former clients.”

“Which one?” Aylesworth said, rolling her eyes. “Did Johnny Depp break his parole again? Hugh Laurie caught with another cross-dressing prostitute?” She looked back and forth between Kristen and Tammin. “Please tell me David Caruso didn’t beat up ANOTHER underage woman who wouldn’t sleep with him. I can NOT get him off for that a THIRD time-”

“We’re here about Emma Roberts.”

“Who?” Reiko said, looking confused.

“Emma Roberts; you had her as a client two years ago when she was caught breaking into a safe at 4321 No View Lane.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Aylesworth said.

“She was naked at the time,” Tammin offered.

“OH! Her, yeah, I remember her now. Is she in trouble again?”

“We think she might have been involved in the bank heist at San Francisco Union Bank this morning,” Kristen said. “You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where she is?”

“I didn’t even remember her name a moment ago,” Aylesworth remarked. “But come on back up to my office, maybe we can find some information on her.”

“We’d appreciate any help we can get,” Kristen said as Reiko led them towards the elevator.

“You’ve got a lovely building here, Miss Aylesworth,” Tammin added.

“Thanks. It’ll look better when my name is on the side of the building, but for now it’ll do.”

“Things going that well for you?” Kristen asked.

“I bring in my fair share of wealthy clients,” Reiko said as the elevator doors swung open. The three women stepped in, and were quickly lifted up towards the upper levels.

“You rattled off an impressive list of current clients, you’re certain Emma Roberts isn’t one of them?” Kristen asked.

“If she is, I’ve not been informed,” Aylesworth replied. “But then my docket is rather full at the moment, if she or her people contacted my offices, it’s possible we put a junior lawyer on the case.”

“Even though you personally handled her case two years ago?”

“I wasn’t a senior attorney at the firm then,” Reiko said slowly.

“But you were dealing with important cases at the time,” Kristen pressed. “And Emma’s case seemed too small at the time for someone of your status.”

“Again, Agent Sursok-” Aylesworth started to say.

“I’m Agent Bell, she’s Agent Sursok,” Kristen cut in.’

“Agent Bell, then,” Aylesworth corrected. “You seem to forget, I barely remember Emma Roberts, and if she hadn’t been stark naked when she was captured, I still wouldn’t remember her. I don’t see why you keep pressing about a case that was CLOSED, what was it, two years ago?”

“We’re just curious as to why you even took her case,” Tammin said, trying to ease some tension. “After all, you had higher profile clients who brought in far more money.”

“And you really want your name on the side of the building,” Kristen added.

Reiko took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “The last time I was pressed this hard in an elevator, Agent Bell, the other woman was sucking on my clit and I was on my way to a world-class orgasm. Unless you’re offering to try and duplicate that effort, I’d appreciate you laying off the 20 Questions.” Aylesworth ran her eyes up and down Kristen’s body once blatantly. “Though if you are offering, I believe I’d accept.”

Kristen might have been tempted – Reiko was ten flavors of gorgeous all wrapped into one. But she was on the hunt at the moment, and wasn’t going to back down just for a shot at some pretty pussy.

“Or are you implying I’m somehow a suspect in this crime?” Aylesworth said.

“Absolutely NOT,” Tammin said quickly, stepping between the two other women. “But we think you may have a way of contacting a suspect, and we’d appreciate all the help we can get.”

Before Reiko could respond, the elevator doors opened, and the three women stepped out onto the executive floor.

“My office is this way,” Reiko said calmly, leading the two FBI agents down the posh hallway.

“How come our offices don’t look this good?” Tammin muttered.

“Because Uncle Sam doesn’t pay as well as the rich, famous, and legally troubled,” Kristen muttered back.

There was a charming looking young lady at the desk in front of Reiko’s office – one Isabel Lucas, if the nameplate on her desk was to be believed. “Something wrong, Miss Aylesworth?” she asked as the three women approached.

“Nothing we can’t handle, Isabel. Could you please look up a case I worked two years ago involving an Emma Roberts? The FBI would like an address, if she’s not currently a client.”

“I’ll double-check the current case dockets, too, Miss Aylesworth.”

“Thank you, Isabel,” Reiko said. “Agents Bell, Sursok, if you’ll follow me?”

Reiko led them into her office proper, which if the outer hallways had been posh, the inner office was positively palatial, all silver and white and dark woods that seemed to radiate importance and power in a way that Kristen couldn’t name, but could certainly feel. When Reiko Aylesworth sat down behind the giant oaken desk, it was quite clear who was meant to be in charge in this room.

But then, Kristen Bell never much cared about who was in charge.

“So you’re certain you’ve had no contact with Emma Roberts recently?”

“I have not had any contact with her since the case I defended her in ended,” Reiko said flatly. “If she has been in contact with my offices, I’ve not been informed at all.”

“May I ask, who hired you for Miss Roberts on her last case?”

“You can ask, but that information is privileged. I cannot divulge that unless you have a warrant.” She raised an eyebrow at Kristen. “Do you?”

“Not yet,” Kristen muttered.

“Then let’s just wait and see what Miss Lucas brings us, shall we?”

The room was silent for a long moment after that, with none of the girls seemingly willing to break the quiet now around them. The silence, however, did nothing to ease the tension in the room.

Finally there was a buzz from the intercom on Reiko’s desk. “I have the information, Miss Aylesworth.”

“Please, bring it in, Isabel,” Reiko said.

Two seconds later, the door to the office opened and Isabel Lucas walked in. No longer with a desk in front of her, Kristen was set to marvel at both the incredibly short skirt Isabel was wearing, and the equally incredible pair of legs jutting out from said skirt. Isabel leaned over Reiko’s desk far enough that Kristen could see she was wearing a thong, and deposited a small manila file folder in front of her boss.

“Thank you, Isabel,” Reiko said with a lascivious smile that made Kristen quite certain Reiko at least had designs of sleeping with her secretary, if she wasn’t already doing so. Kristen couldn’t blame her.

“It seems that Miss Roberts has not contacted us in the last few days to become a client again, so her information is most likely not up-to-date.”

“We’d still like it,” Kristen said.

“Of course,” Reiko said. “Isabel, why don’t you take Agent… Sursok was it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tammin replied.

“Why don’t you take Agent Sursok down to the records room and pull up the old contact information on Miss Roberts.”

“Yes, Miss Aylesworth,” Isabel said. “Right this way, Agent Sursok,” she added, motioning Tammin towards the door. Tammin traded looks with Kristen, making sure they both knew they were being separated on purpose, then left with the assistant.

“Are you really going to make me get a warrant for the information I want?” Kristen asked Reiko frankly once they were alone.

“Absolutely, Agent Bell. We follow the letter of the law here at Lycan Hollowman.”

“I’m sure,” Kristen said, her tone making it clear she believe the truth was exactly the opposite.

* * * * * * * * * *

“It must be exciting being an FBI agent,” Isabel Lucas said as she guided Tammin Sursok through a series of cubicles one floor down from Reiko Aylesworth’s office.

“Only if you find getting coffee for everyone else exciting,” Tammin muttered.

“Oh,” Isabel said. “So it’s not that different from my job.”

“And since you’re here this late, I guess the hours aren’t any better.”

“I guess there aren’t any glamorous jobs out there any more, are there?”

“I don’t know, you look pretty good,” Tammin said, allowing her eyes to go up and down Isabel’s body, focusing on the way her tight skirt hugged her ass as the other girl walked. “You must be doing better than I am in the paycheck department to afford outfits like that.”

“They aren’t cheap, that’s for sure,” Isabel replied. “Not that you look bad in what you’re wearing.”

“Thanks,” Tammin said.

“I always thought lady cops were hot,” Isabel remarked. “Have you ever used your handcuffs during sex?”

“Ah, no,” Tammin lied. She’d had her own hands handcuffed behind her back while blowing a senior agent twice, but Isabel didn’t need to know that.

“Too bad,” Isabel said. She was quiet for a moment, stopping in front of a locked room. She pulled out her keycard and opened the door, ushering Tammin in first. Tammin found herself in a long hallway, lined with file cabinets. Huge file cabinets, taller than either she or Isabel.

“These are all your records?” Tammin asked, a bit daunted.

“All the contact ones, yeah. There’s probably a few hundred out and about with individual lawyers and their aides, but I’m sure Miss Roberts is in here.”

“So, what, alphabetical order by last name?” Tammin asked.

“Exactly,” Isabel said, leading Tammin down the hallway, stopping two-thirds of the way down in front of a cabinet labeled Ri-Roc. “Should be in here. Stand back please,” she added. Tammin stepped back, and Lucas pulled open the cabinet for quite a ways. Tammin actually had to step back again so Isabel could open it far enough to get to “Roberts, Emma.”

“Here we go,” Isabel said, opening the file and glancing at it quickly. She closed it, then put it behind her back. “Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Tammin asked, feeling her cackles rise – Isabel clearly wanted something, and she was now holding evidence Tammin and Kristen needed.

“If I let you in on a secret, would you do something for me?”

“Depends,” Tammin said. “What’s the secret, and what’s the favor?”

“I know something about Emma Roberts that Miss Aylesworth isn’t likely to tell you and your partner.”

“She’s not really my partner-” Tammin said, but Isabel kept going.

“If you let me live out my little cop fantasy, right here, right now, I’ll tell you and as long as you don’t tell Miss Aylesworth, no one will ever need to know.”

“Your cop fantasy?” Tammin asked carefully.

“Handcuff me, frisk me, then fuck me,” Isabel said, her voice suddenly husky and filled with desire. “I’ve always wanted a strong cop lady, like yourself, to read me my rights as she’s banging my pussy.”

Tammin couldn’t help herself, she licked her lips. Isabel was a walking wet dream, all legs and gorgeous hair and lips almost as full as Tammin’s. And if Isabel had information that would lead to the bank robbers…

“Please, officer?” Isabel asked, pouting a bit and batting her eyelashes in an attempt to sway some sympathy, or perhaps seduce Tammin a little more.

“You swear you have information on this Roberts chick.”

Isabel slid in close to Tammin, to the point that their lips were almost touching as she spoke. “I swear, officer.”

Tammin took a deep breath, then quickly grabbed Isabel’s arm and spun her around. “Face the wall,” she said, using her best commanding voice. Isabel gasped in surprise as Tammin shoved her up against the file cabinets. “Arms on the top of the cabinets. Now!”

Isabel did as she was told, but she couldn’t help cooing a little bit. Tammin sighed. She wasn’t much for role play, but if it got information they needed to solve this case, she could pretend.

Stepping up behind the administrative assistant, Tammin kicked her feet apart some. “Spread your legs,” she ordered. “Wider!” Isabel moaned as she complied. “Do NOT look back at me, keep your eyes on the wall.”

“Yes, officer,” Isabel purred delightfully.

“Don’t smile,” Tammin snapped, reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her sunglasses. It was far too dark inside for them, but she thought they’d help with the fantasy. And maybe keep Isabel from seeing the slight twinkle Tammin could feel in her own eyes. This was more fun that getting clues to a major bank robbery should be.

Sunglasses in place, Tammin began the pat down, starting standard at Isabel’s arms, and working her way down her entire shapely frame until she reached the girl’s bare legs. Tammin had a bit of a thing for legs, and she enjoyed running her hands down Isabel’s flawless skin. Oh yes, this was far more fun than it should be.

Reaching the bottom of Isabel’s legs, the FBI agent switched to the insides, and again felt an increasingly naughty thrill as she ran her hands back up towards Isabel’s crotch. She moved slowly, making no effort to hide the fact that she was basically molesting the other woman with increasing intensity. She reached the bottom of Isabel’s short skirt and just kept moving up the inside of her thighs until she reached the barely-covered promised land.

“Mmmmm,” Isabel moaned as Tammin’s hands reached her panty-clad crotch.

“You’re reacting a little too well to that, Miss,” Tammin said. “I may have to do a closer examination of that.”

“Oh, NO, officer! Please, I’m innocent, I SWEAR!” Isabel said theatrically, practically swooning at Tammin’s touch.

“Quiet, you, or I’ll add resisting arrest to your charges,” Tammin said, patting Isabel’s crotch aggressively, smiling despite herself at the wetness she could feel through the hot young blonde’s panties. Isabel moaned again, but Tammin ignored that, instead pulling aside the front panel of Isabel’s thong and running her finger roughly over the other girl’s slit.

“Aahh… wha-?” Isabel’s moan stopped short as Tammin stood up behind her, leaving the other girl wanting more. Tammin instead reached up and took one of Isabel’s hands and pulled it roughly down behind her back, locking it into one of her handcuffs.

“You’re under arrest,” Tammin said huskily into Isabel’s ear. “You have the right to remain silent,” the FBI agent went on, reaching for Isabel’s other hand. “Anything you say can and WILL be used against you in a court of law.”

“Ooooh,” Isabel groaned in delight as Tammin locked her other hand into the cuffs. If Tammin had been between her legs now, she would’ve seen that Isabel was practically gushing.

“You have the right to an attorney,” Tammin went on, making sure the cuffs were locked. “If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.” With that, she spun Isabel around and looked at the young legal assistant right in the eyes.

“And you have the right to eat my pussy right here, right now.”

“Oh, god YES!” Isabel cried out as Tammin lowered the other girl to her knees, then hefted her own skirt up, exposing her own simple white thong that was just starting to get wet. Once Isabel was on her knees, Tammin reached down and yanked her panties down to her own knees, leaving them hanging just below where the end of her skirt would fall, but giving Isabel plenty of room to get her mouth up between Tammin’s legs and start licking the agent’s pussy.

Isabel wasted no time, and needed no direction. Her pouty little lips sought out Tammin’s snatch and began eagerly feasting on the juices just starting to flow out of them. Tammin’s free hand, the one not holding her skirt up, dropped to Isabel’s hands and quickly entwined her fingers into the mop of blonde beauty, pressing Isabel closer to the mark.

Tammin knew they didn’t have much time, and they’d probably wasted too much of it already on this little police game, but if Isabel could provide ANY kind of evidence, Tammin would take it. She needed SOMETHING to prove she was more than just the FBI’s resident oral sex expert.

Speaking of, Isabel was proving she was quite skilled in cunnilingus herself, massaging Tammin’s clit and slit with her tongue. It had been a while since Tammin had anyone else go down on HER, and she was very tempted to just revel in the sensation. It felt so GOOD, like Isabel’s tongue was impossibly long and capable of hitting spots inside the FBI agent that no other tongue ever had.

Tammin’s pulse jumped up, and she began breathing heavily at once, as Isabel worked her magic over Tammin’s private parts. So good was Isabel with her tongue, Tammin suspected she wouldn’t be waiting long before orgasm overtook her. Already, she could feel the pressure building up in her crotch, signaling the impending explosion of sexual energy.

Tammin didn’t fight it. Indeed, she used her hand to shove Isabel’s head deeper into her crotch, speeding up the process.

Isabel was on to something, Tammin thought. She spent all her time taking orders all day long, and none of the sexual partners – male or female – that she’d had in the last few years had ever asked her what she wanted. But here, in this hallway filled with file cabinets, Tammin Sursok was in complete control of the sex she was having. It was her hand on the back of Isabel’s head, directing the other woman’s mouth over Tammin’s clit. Usually, it was Tammin on her knees, servicing either a cock or a pussy. This was a luxury she wasn’t used to, and she rather liked it.

It was that thought – that she was the one in charge – that brought upon Tammin’s orgasm more than Isabel’s excellent tongue work. Tammin’s eyes squeezed shut, her mouth parted a bit, her lips forming what everyone who’d ever seen her climax inevitably called a perfect little “o,” and her knees buckled a bit as orgasm shot through her body, sending her staggering back against one of the file cabinets.

“Whoa,” Isabel said, looking up from her knees as Tammin regained control of her body. “That was SOOOO hot.”

“Yeah, yeah it was,” Tammin said, fighting to regain her balance. As she got back situated on her heels, her eyes settled upon the still handcuffed Isabel, kneeling in the middle of the floor, her mouth and chin showing the juicy proof that she’d been the one to get Tammin off. It was one of the hottest sights Tammin Sursok had ever seen.

“Get up,” Tammin said, moving forward and helping Isabel to her feet while looking about the room. There, not too far away, at the end of the hallway, was a desk. It was exactly what Tammin was looking for, and she started to drag Isabel over towards it by her still cuffed hands. It wasn’t easy – Tammin’s panties were still around her knees, and they impeded her steps, though not as much as dropping them down to her ankles would. She could’ve pulled them up, but she was in too much of a hurry. The two women reached the desk, and Tammin laid Isabel over the top of it, bending her at the waist and raising her exquisite ass up perfectly in her skirt.

“You should never, ever, EVER cover this,” Tammin said, running her hands over Isabel’s skirt-covered cheeks once before lifting the offending garment up and exposing the thong that separated Isabel’s most private areas from the cool air of the hallway.

“Ooh, Officer, what are you doing?” Isabel asked as Tammin yanked the thong out of the way.

Tammin remembered to get back into character at that point. “Cavity search,” she said before jabbing a pair of fingers into Isabel’s pussy.

Isabel Lucas creamed herself right then and there, surprising both girls. Still, Tammin made sure to keep sliding her fingers in and out of the little legal aid as she squirmed atop the desk, her fingers stretching out behind her cuffed wrists, making sure Isabel really enjoyed her climax.

“That was SOOOO amazing,” Isabel said when she finally came down, and Tammin was able to extract her soaked fingers.

“We need to hurry back,” Tammin said. “Come on, we passed a bathroom on the way here. You can tell me what you know while we clean up.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“THAT was hardly worth the effort,” Kristen Bell muttered as they left Lychan Hollowman half an hour later. Tammin kept her mouth shut until they were clear of the property.

“I know who hired Reiko Aylesworth to defend Emma Roberts,” Tammin said.

“You what?” Kristen asked, nearly hitting the breaks. “How?”

“Isabel, the legal aid,” Tammin said.

“I thought you smelled like sex when you got back,” Bell said. “I’m impressed, BJ. It won’t hold in court, but it’s more than we were going to get from Aylesworth herself.”

“Aylesworth was hired by a local real estate company called R. M. Housing.”

“A real estate company? Why on earth would they hire a hot shot lawyer to get a cat burglar out of a trespassing charge?”

“Isabel didn’t know, but I’ll start looking into them as soon as we get back.”

“Good work, BJ,” Kristen said. “We might make an actual FBI agent out of you yet.”

* * * * * * * * * *

“You smell like sex,” Reiko Aylesworth said as she stared out her window, watching the car carrying the two FBI agents away.

“It didn’t take that much to get the pouty-lipped one to give it up,” Isabel said, coming to stand next to her employer. “When we finished, she took the bait, just like you said she would.”

“Excellent, just like she wanted,“ Reiko smiled. “So now the FBI knows the name of the shell company used to pay us. That should keep them running in circles for another day or two.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Go ahead and get Miss Mitra on the phone, Isabel,” Reiko said. “And then I hope you haven’t worn out your tongue. I’m feeling the need of a little attention myself before I go home tonight.

“Of course, Miss Aylesworth,” Isabel said, licking her lips at the thought of eating out Reiko Aylesworth.

* * * * * * * * *

“You look like you could use some company this evening,” said the hopeful young man.

“Trust me, you can’t give me what I want,” Troian Bellisario laughed. “I need a woman.”

“Just ain’t my night,” the man groaned, contenting himself with watching Troian’s ass as she walked away. Whoever she was meeting was going to be in for a treat…

Gently putting off straight guys had been the highpoint of Troian’s day since she left home; by the time she finally got back to the station – buses + traffic = long journey through hell – it had been time for the main news, and the bitch was back and on set and therefore off limits. The brunette had chosen to leave; avoiding the TV reduced the chances of kicking it in once Ashley Benson’s face appeared.

Going home was out of the question (and not only because she couldn’t face another phone call from Hayden’s worried parents), so there was only one other option; a few questions around Channel 7 established that Ashley was heading home to relax. Even if Ashley had been planning to go out on the lash (translation: hit the bars – that was another saying Troian had gotten from her English lover) Troian would have been waiting for her anyway… glad that at least the last straight guy hadn’t touched her, she got on the next bus.  Ashley might be settled in when she arrived.

For the umpteenth time she checked her phone – even though she knew that Hayden was unlikely to be able to use her own phone, she was hopeful that maybe she might still have gotten a message out. Nope, still nothing. Troian started to tap out another one, before she reconsidered; maybe someone might be with her. And maybe Hayden’s phone might not be on silent… no, she’d wait a little. At least until after she’d had an exclusive, one-on-one interview with Channel 7 star reporter Ashley Benson.

And there it was, Villa di Benson. Situated miles from the bus stop, thank you kind fate. Still, the walk up the road and then up the driveway gave Troian plenty of time to think over what she’d say to Ashley – and to convince herself that punching the snarky cow in the face on opening the door was a bad move. One thing about taking so long to get there from the station was that her subject had had more than enough time to get home – the sounds of music were getting louder the closer Troian got to the door.

The brunette grimaced when she recognised what was playing; the girl wasn’t really kicking back with songs from “Glee,” was she? Add hearing problems to the list. Wishing that Ashley’s taste in soundtracks ran closer to Hayden’s – even if her beloved never let a Harry Potter movie go by without bitching that they should’ve gotten John Williams back – Troian rang the doorbell and hoped it could be heard above Lea Michele’s wailing.

A muttered “Ah, fuck” came from within as “Run Joey Run” was paused. A few seconds later, Ashley opened the door and snapped on a welcoming smile, not quick enough for Troian not to notice the resentful look on her face.

“Oh, hi Troian!” the blonde said cheerfully.

“Hi,” the brunette replied with a wave of the hand. “I know this is kind of out of the blue…”

“You’re just lucky I was in; just wanted a quiet night at home after all the stuff today… nothing new about our girl yet, but the cops say they’ll let us know the second we get anything. Come on in, Troian; how about a drink?”

“Well, I really just came by for a few moments.”

“You’re a guest, and you’re one of Channel 7′s,” Ashley said sincerely. “One won’t hurt.”

“Nice tunes,” Troian lied as she entered the lair. “Couldn’t help hearing outside.”

“Yeah, I do keep it loud sometimes,” the blonde admitted, hoping Troian was impressed at how well laid-out and stuffed with accessories her house was. “Anyway, what brings you here and what would you like?”

“A Coke is fine, and it’s really the robbery I need to ask you about.”

“You and everyone at work,” Ashley laughed, going into the kitchen. “I don’t have anything to tell you that I didn’t say on the air. It was all rush; as soon as I got back from my interview I had to dash out again down to the Union Bank.”

“And now they think Hayden’s in on it as well, can you believe that?” Troian groaned.

“How so?”

“Some FBI agent dragged me down for a chat; they think that it’s weird she was down there so early and no one saw her in the bank,” the brunette continued, taking the Coke Ashley proffered and swigging. “Ah, nothing like the real thing.”

“I know she’s not loaded, but that does sound kind of weird,” Ashley agreed, sitting next to her colleague. “Why’d they think that?”

“We all know Hayden got a call telling her something was up, and she was out of there like *that.* The thing is, it wasn’t through the station’s lines… it was sent straight to her cellphone.”

“Is that right,” Ashley mused, eyeing the brunette.

“Yeah, that’s right. Like someone WANTED her to be there.”

“Any thoughts, Nancy Drew?”

“Well… I told the Feds the same thing, and they checked her records. And so did I.”

“And…? Don’t keep me in suspense, girl!” Ashley’s eyes were gleaming.

“Hayden got two calls that morning; one was from her mother. And guess who the ONLY other person to ring her was?”

“Taylor Lautner?” Ashley said with a grin.

“You,” Troian said, without.

Ashley’s face returned to how she looked before she opened the door. “This better be a joke, Bellisario…”

Troian pointed to her face. “This is how I look when ‘The Suite Life On Deck’ is on – I’m not laughing. Maybe you changed your voice so she wouldn’t have known it was you, and maybe you fixed it so it would come up ‘Unknown,’ but you’ve got several cell numbers registered and you used one of them.”

“Oh, come on. Why would I want her to–”

“Don’t play games with me, Benson. You hate Hayden like you hate ‘Doonesbury’; you knew she was taking limelight from you–”

“You paranoid little dyke!” Ashley shouted. “Yeah, okay, I don’t like the competition – and yeah, I said dyke, I know you and that damn garden gnome are a couple… how’d you like me now?”

“I don’t like you at all,” Troian muttered.

“But how the fuck was I supposed to know there’d be a robbery down there?”

“How the fuck do you have all THIS on what Channel 7 pays you?!” Troian snapped back, waving an arm around the Bloomingdale’s showroom Ashley called home. “And who’s Rhona Mitra?”

“Why are you asking me? Do I look like Stephen Hawking?”

“That’s another thing – I told the Feds you called her, and they said someone called Rhona Mitra called her. They were like they won the Lottery or something… is that why you’re so tricked out around here? Is that why you got Hayden out of the way? She helps you, you help her?”

“You know, I had a feeling this was going to happen sooner or later,” Ashley said calmly. She brought up a hand fast, faster than Troian had expected, and slammed her across the face. Ashley was bringing the other hand up when Troian clutched both of them, wrenching them back towards the blonde. Struggling against the grip, the two women tumbled off the sofa, with Troian pinning Ashley before she could struggle away.

“You on top of me? Must be living your fantasy,” Ashley sneered, scratching out at Troian and leaving a couple of red lines on the side of her neck. An instant later, she howled as the brunette punched her directly on the mouth.

“I am NOW!” Troian shouted, and punched her again before Ashley’s hands grabbed her hair and yanked back hard. The force got Troian to loosen her stance a second, and Ashley scuttled back, clamped her legs around the brunette’s waist and brought her down with a crash. Troian grabbed something off the table by the sofa, as Ashley dived in.

“Oh, HELL no!” Ashley roared as Troian hit the blonde around the head with the solid silver ashtray. If she’d hit her hard enough to knock her out, that would have been it; but it was enough to leave her stunned as Troian clouted her again, harder this time.

“That’s for calling Hayden a gnome, you inbred air-thief!”

Shaking her head to clear it, Ashley saw Troian about to hit her with that tray again. She thrashed out, and grabbed the brunette and pulled – ripping off her shirt. Her other hand got a hold of the one with the ashtray and Ashley slammed into Troian, sending her onto the floor with the blonde on top this time. Ashley punched Troian in the stomach before the brunette lunged upwards and managed to thrown her off, sending her tumbling over the table.

“You’re paying for all of this, muffdiver!” Ashley spat as she got up to face her opponent.

“Make me!”

Their fists went for each other, Ashley connecting on Troian’s jaw and Troian slamming on Ashley’s chest. Another round of blows had Troian clutching Ashley’s top and throwing her aside; the blonde’s shirt remained in the brunette’s hand as Ashley crashed into the wall. It didn’t escape Troian’s notice that neither of them was wearing a bra; shame such nice tits had to be attached to such a fucking waste of space.

Ashley ran into Troian, hitting her hard and sending the two flying across the room, Troian pummeling Ashley before both smashed into the CD cabinet; discs of music cascaded onto the two as Troian scratched and tried to bite her opponent, secretly hoping some of the falling discs might come out of their cases and cut her.

Ashley dug her fingernails into one of Troian’s exposed breasts, and LOVED the scream that ensued. Troian grabbed one of Ashley’s legs and jerked it out from under her, and kicked her as she went down; years of playing soccer in school paid off as she watched the blonde tumble over, and she stamped a foot on Ashley’s ass as she wrapped an arm around her neck and shoulders; the blonde reached behind her, clutched Troian’s crotch and an arm, and flung her over her head. She crashed onto the floor and this time wasn’t able to get out of the way of the blonde leaping onto her, teeth bared and hands clawing.

Tearing at each other’s clothes and spitting curses, the two thrashed at each other through the room, bumping against the walls and sending nicknacks to the floor as they got to the swing doors in front of the kitchen. Troian kicked Ashley through the doors and grabbed one of the pair, slamming it against her face before she could come back. She leaped into the kitchen, receiving a foot in her stomach which sent her flying back, but that didn’t keep her from running at Ashley as the blonde got up, arriving just in time to take a blow to the jaw that sent her plunging, nearly hitting the side of the sink.

Ashley clutched the rim of Troian’s pants and pulled hard – the brunette howled as the fabric ripped, taking her panties with them. “THAT WAS A GIFT FROM HAYDEN, YOU DAMN–” and what Troian was going to say was forgotten when she felt a crack across her exposed cheeks, making her yelp. Troian struggled to get out from under Ashley’s harder than expected hand pummels, but Ashley was kneeling on her back.

“What’s wrong, dyke?!” she sneered as she ran her eyes along the cabinet. “I thought you loved stuff like this…”

Yep, there it was. The perfect thing. Several perfect things, in fact.

“I hear your girlfriend likes tattoos,” she continued, reaching for a knife with the other. “How about I give you one? Just to make sure you NEVER forget who you’re fucking with.”

“Forget it, blondie – I read that Stephen King book as well…”

Putting all her strength into it, Troian shoved herself up and hurled Ashley off her, reaching for her dress and hitting her in the small of the back as she did. She couldn’t keep from noting Ashley’s thong-wearing ass as the dress was pulled off, letting an appreciative smile flit across her face. The smile disappeared just before Ashley spun around and punched her in it as Troian wrapped her hands around her throat, shaking her head.

Ashley jabbed two fingers into Troian’s cunt, driving a thumbnail into the area just above the slit. The brunette grunted, shoving the blonde into the doors of the cupboard under the sink and getting her to let go, but Ashley twisted one of Troian’s arms enough for her to relinquish her grip in turn; immediately she went for her, biting her left breast. The enraged brunette pummelled Ashley, reaching for her thong and ripping it off and wrapping it around her throat, pulling it taut.

Gagging and clawing at it, Ashley staggered to her feet as Troian held on tight, refusing to be shaken off. The two were carried backwards across the kitchen, hitting the window sill. Both were hurtled over the edge and through the window, falling to the grass outside amidst pieces of glass – Ashley felt Troian’s grip loosen as they fell, and rolled away from her, cutting her hand on a shard but using the bleeding hand to pull off the thong. The two bruised and naked enemies clutched each other, Troian scratching every part of Ashley she could get to.

Ashley gripped Troian’s arm and waist and managed to heave her over her head, dropping her to the ground by the swimming pool – Troian faced it as she landed. Before she could get up, Ashley kicked her in the side, sending her tumbling into the water as the blonde dived in after her. Troian surfaced in time to see Ashley reaching her arms towards her, but she managed to get her hands ready first.

“NOT HAPPENING!” she snarled, shoving Ashley under the surface. The blonde kicked and struggled, churning the waters with her fighting, but Troian was not about to let her up until she was ready. After thirty seconds, she pulled the sodden blonde up and watched her gasp for air.

“Give up?”

Ashley continued gulping.

“You give–”

Ashley grabbed Troian and shoved her under the surface. Hard. Hard enough to hit her head against the side of the pool… and Troian went limp, with the chlorine water suddenly getting a little crimson tinge. Not much of one – she hadn’t hit her head THAT hard – but enough.

Watching the floating, moaning brunette, Ashley smiled. Then she took the girl’s body in her arms and started to pull her out. Leaving Troian to drown in the pool and then dump her body in the Pacific would have been the easiest thing to do if she hadn’t looked like she’d just made an Asian action pic (also, the whole “oceans aren’t made of chlorine” thing would get questions asked at the autopsy); counting her lucky stars that no one had seen their little fight, Ashley carried Troian out of the pool and brought her inside.

One of the perks of working for Rhona was that she knew people who could get this place looking as if nothing had happened in next to no time; dumping the girl on her sofa, Ashley glanced at her and nodded before going upstairs. She had to make a couple of phone calls to get the people around. And get some clothes on.

As soon as she was gone, Troian opened her eyes.

For the second time that day she started to move gingerly. But this time she also tried to move as fast as she dared; she didn’t know how long she’d have to get out…

* * * * * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, a cleaned and changed Ashley skipped down the stairs. All was going along, as it were, swimmingly. Rhona’s people would be along in an hour and they had assured her that making Troian disappear would be the easiest thing in the world. Especially with the friends they had in high places. And when they were done, Miss Benson would start thinking about having a couple of gentleman friends over…

Ashley stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, her face a picture of “Huh?”

It WAS the easiest thing in the world. Troian Bellisario wasn’t there.

Troian Bellisario was, however, dressed in her torn clothes and unconscious on the pavement a few doors away from Ashley’s house, her phone clutched in her hand. Gathering her clothes and fighting her wooziness, she had managed to send out two messages – one to 911 for an ambulance telling her where she’d likely be, and the other to Hayden:

“Ashley nearly killed me. In it with some Rhona Mitra bitch. Call me when you get this. Sorry I called you Mushroom. T.”

She’d collapsed just after sending it, praying that Hayden would see it. And that she’d be able to see Hayden…

* * * * * * * * * *

“So, who you sleeping with tonight, Leggy?” Emma asked as Shay exited the bathroom in a clingy towel, her hair wet from her shower.

“Huh?” Shay asked.

“Only three free beds with the hostages taking up the one in the other room. Gotta share with someone.”

“Are you offering?” Shay asked the teenager.

“Better you than Jaime,” Emma snorted.

“Jaime probably gets the couch,” Grace said, sliding past the two girls.

“No, Blake already called it,” Emma said. “Funny, she didn’t seem to want to spend the night with me.”

“You poor thing,” Shay said, mock sympathy in her voice. “Couldn’t spend the night canoodling the leggy blonde.”

“I know,” Emma said, matching Shay’s tone. “My only hope now is to shack up with a leggy brunette.”

Shay made a show of looking down at her legs poking out from beneath her towel. “Are those legs enough for you, or do you want to see if Roselyn can do better?”

“Oooh,” Emma said with a giggle. “Roselyn’s got some nice stems on her. Wouldn’t mind running my tongue up her thighs.”

“Oh, you,” Shay said, batting Emma’s arm and pushing past her. She walked into the main room, looking over her shoulder at Emma with a twinkle in her eye and looked like she was about to say something when the door outside opened up and Megan Fox pushed a lingerie clad Lucy Hale inside.

“What on earth?” Roselyn asked, coming out into the room. All eyes were on young Lucy, clad in black lace with black heels.

“It was the only thing we could find that fit,” Megan said.

“Oh, that’s kinda cute,” Blake said, eyeing the lingerie. “Any more like that down there?”

“Not that I could see – place is really kind of picked over,” Megan said, guiding Lucy into the room where they were keeping the other hostages. As soon as Megan closed the door behind her, Emma poked Roselyn in the ribs.

“They totally banged down there,” Emma said.

“No kidding,” Grace said as she sat at her computer desk. “Not sure who I envy more, Megan or the hostage.”

“So, who’s sleeping with who tonight?” Emma said. “And where?”

“I gotta sleep out here,” Grace said. “Mind the computers and whatnot.” She looked over at Emma. “Care to let me have a close-up of that scar of yours?”

“Oh no,” Shay said quickly. “Emma’s bedding with me, and that’s final.”

“Shoot,” Grace said, still smiling seductively at Emma. Before Emma could say anything, Megan exited the room where the hostages were tied up.

“They all secure,” Megan said. “Redhead’s asleep, but the blonde’s still upset.”

“Let her be,” Roselyn said. “We’re discussing the sleeping arrangements for the night, Megan. Any preferences?”

“Not with Jaime,” Megan said, almost too quickly.

“Fine, you can bed with me then,” Roselyn said. “Just don’t hog the covers.”

“Right back at you, boss,” Megan said.

“I guess that leaves me with Jaime out here,” Grace said with a sigh. “You two sure you don’t want to share me for the night?” Grace asked Shay and Emma.

“I’d like to actually get SOME sleep tonight,” Shay said, pulling her towel around her a bit tighter before walking towards the bedroom.

“Your loss,” Grace called after her.

“Yours, too, Gracie,” Shay said as she reached the doorway, pausing with her back to the others just long enough to drop the towel around her to the floor, giving everyone a nice long look at her naked ass before disappearing around the corner.

“I’m suddenly very tired,” Emma said, following Shay. “See you all in the morning!”

The others traded knowing looks as the teenager followed her naked friend into the bedroom. Then suddenly Megan frowned. “Damn it, we’re going to have to listen to them all night, aren’t we?”

“You wanna sleep out here with Jaime and her strap-on instead?” Roselyn asked.

“No,” Megan admitted. “But if they keep me up too much, I might just go sleep in the van.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Shay was just sliding into the bed, still nude, when Emma raced into the room like an eager little puppy. “My my, someone’s eager,” Shay noted, seeing the way Emma hurried over to her bag, shedding her shirt as she went. “You know you really shouldn’t increase your pulse like that just before bed time, it’ll keep you awake all night.”

“Oh, I was hoping something else would keep me up all night,” Emma said, not even looking over her shoulder as she slid out of her pants and thong, giving Shay a nice look at the tiny scar on her butt cheek.

“I hope you’re speaking of a good book then,” Shay said airily. “Because I’m certainly not THAT easy.”

“You were the other day,” Emma pointed out.

“Oh, that was mean,” Shay said, stung.

“But not untrue,” Emma replied, undoing the clasp of her bra and letting it join the rest of her clothes on the floor.

“I guess not,” Shay said, smiling to herself. “So, are you going to come over here and increase my pulse before bed or am I going to have to go over there and get you?”

“Just give me a moment,” Emma said, rummaging through her bag. “Gotta get my PJs.”

“Your PJs?” Shay asked.

“Yeah, my pajamas.”

“I know what PJs are,” Shay said. “I’m just surprised you have any.”

“Of course I do,” Emma said. “Gotta sleep in something.”

“You crack safes naked, but you need clothes to sleep in?”

“To sleep?” Emma said, pulling out a wad of fabric. “Hell no. Can’t sleep feeling constricted like that – and wearing clothes under sheets is way too hot.”

“But-”

“I wear PJs to bed when I’ve got someone who I’ll want to take them off me,” Emma said, throwing a blue-green lace slip on over her head before turning around to finally face Shay.

Shay approved at once. Emma’s slip barely extended past her crotch, and clung to her teenaged tits like a second skin once she settled the fabric over them, but flared out from just under her breasts out hiding the curves Shay knew the younger girl had. It had the very alluring effect of making Emma look even younger than she already did.

“So?” Emma asked, making her voice a smidge huskier. “Am I getting your pulse up yet?”

“Oh, hell yes,” Shay said, sitting up in the bed – ignoring the sheets falling off her naked breasts – and reached for her new friend. Emma let Shay take her hands and pull her onto the bed, where their lips met in a hot kiss.

“Oh, geeze, you two don’t waste any time at all, do you?”

Shay blinked and glanced around Emma, surprised to see Megan Fox standing in the doorway, arms crossed under her ample cleavage. Roselyn was right behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Shay asked.

“Nothing,” Roselyn said. “Except we left the other room because Jaime wasn’t willing to wait before getting to bed with Grace.”

“And you had to leave because Jaime needed a nap?” Emma asked crossly.

“No, we had to leave because if we didn’t, Jaime was going to fuck our asses with her strap-on,” Megan said sourly.

Right on cue, Grace could be heard crying out in pain from behind them. “Oww! Slow down!”

“Fuck that, Wong Tong Hottie!” Jaime called after her. “You wanna share my bed, you gotta give me some hot Asian ass!”

Roselyn shut the door behind her before they could hear anymore.

“I don’t blame you,” Shay muttered, cringing in sympathy for Grace’s ass.

“Geeze, didn’t Jaime get, like, two of the hostages already?”

“I’ve worked with Jaime before,” Roselyn said. “Trust me, when she’s in the mood, she’ll take as many people as she wants, boys or girls.”

“And there’s only girls here, so that who she’s taking,” Megan said.

“What about Blake?” Shay asked.

“I think she slipped outside onto the steps until the screaming fades,” Megan said.

“Yeah, she didn’t want to come in here with you, Emma,” Roselyn said with a small frown as an apology.

“So, what, we’re all stuck together until Jaime’s had her full?” Emma asked. “Gosh, whatever will we do to pass the time?” she added, groping one of Shay’s naked tits in the process.

“Not THAT,” Shay protested.

“Why not?” Emma asked. “You were all hot to trot a second ago!”

“That was before we had… visitors,” Shay said, looking at Megan and Roselyn.

“Let ‘em watch,” Emma said, tweaking one of Shay’s nipples. “I don’t mind an audience every now and then.” She glanced over her shoulder at Megan and Roselyn. “Unless they want to join in.”

“Oh no, I’m beat. I’m going to bed,” Megan said.

“What, that little brunette you took downstairs too much pussy for you?” Emma teased.

“No, she was just enough, thank-you-very-much,” Megan replied, matter of factly, heading towards the other bed.

“Fine, suit yourself,” Emma said. “What about you, Boss Lady? Wanna Menage a Trois with Shay and I?”

“I’m in a committed relationship,” Roselyn said, though Shay noticed her eyes were lingering about Shay’s chest rather than Emma’s face.

“Never bothered me before, Boss.”

“No, I think I’ll just go to bed, too,” Roselyn said.

“Do you mind if I keep at Shay here? I’m still rather turned on, and she IS all naked and wet-.”

“Emma!” Shay said, surprised.

“What, you’re wet,” Emma said, and to prove it, she crammed a pair of fingers deep into Shay’s pussy, then pulled them up to Shay’s face to show her.

Both Megan and Roselyn had stopped what they were doing when Emma did that, and had their eyes locked on Emma’s hand now.

“Told you,” the teenager said.

“Oh, I can NOT be watching you two go at it all night,” Megan said.

“Offer to join is still there,” Emma said, sticking her fingers in her mouth and sucking Shay’s juices off them.

“Here, we’ll use this,” Roselyn said. She walked over to the far side of the room, where she found a fold-out privacy screen. It was coated in dust, and had once been a rather alarming shade of pink that made Emma think it must have come from the Victoria’s Secret downstairs. Roselyn manhandled it over to between the two beds, where she unfolded it, blocking the line of sight between them.

“You’re still going to hear us,” Emma pointed out.

“Not if you’re quiet,” Roselyn said, with JUST enough warning in her tone.

“Besides, better you than Jaime and Grace,” Megan added, shucking off her leather top before walking behind the privacy screen.

“Try and get some sleep tonight,” Roselyn added before joining Megan. “If Rhona doesn’t show up by morning, we’re all going to be busy getting the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for the reminder, Mom. Can I go back to fucking my girlfriend now?” Emma asked.

“Girlfriend?” Shay asked, surprised. Emma ignored her question and dropped her mouth onto Shay’s left breast. Shay felt herself swoon a little – Emma was quite talented when it came to stuff like this, as Shay well knew. For a moment, Shay just enjoyed the sensation of Emma’s mouth upon her tit, but all too soon, Emma needed to come up for air, and it was clear from her expression that she wanted to get a move on.

“I think you owe me a little fun with my vibrator,” Emma said, rolling off the bed to grab her bag. Shay smiled. Last time, Emma had taken Shay’s anal cherry with her little vibrator, and made Shay promise to return the favor when the time came. Clearly, Emma thought that time had come.

“Fine, okay,” Shay said. “But you have to leave your PJs on.”

“What? Why?” Emma asked.

“Because I think it’ll be kinkier if I take your ass while you’re still dressed.” Shay glanced down at Emma’s barely covered body. “Or, well, close to dressed, anyway.”

“Shay Mitchell, you DO have a dirty mind in there after all,” Emma said, pulling out the vibrator.

“Too much time spent with you, no doubt,” Shay remarked.

“I love it when I rub one off on a girl,” Emma said, handing the vibe to Shay.

“I think you mean ‘rub off’ on a girl.”

“No,” Emma corrected. “I mean I love getting myself off on another girl, but if you’re turning into a dirty little slut like me, I won’t complain.”

Shay almost laughed, but there was a not-too-subtle cough from the other side of the room divider, and Shay remembered that there were two other people trying to sleep nearby.

“Guess we’re being too loud,” Emma whispered as she got on the bed on all fours.

“Then maybe you better bite this pillow,” Shay whispered with a wicked grin, pushing Emma’s head down firmly, but gently, until her rear hung up in the air alone, bare pussy and asshole exposed to the world. “Because I’m about to make you scream.”

Emma believed her. At once, Shay turned the vibrator on to it’s lowest setting, and started running the gently shaking device against the outer lips of Emma’s pretty pink pussy. Emma cooed at once, enjoying the sensation, but wondered how long Shay was going to tease her like this before taking her ass with Emma’s own vibrator.

Almost before the thought was through Emma’s brain, however, Shay began gently pushing the vibrator into Emma’s slit, surprising both girls with how easily it slid in amid Emma’s juices. Emma found herself moaning into the pillow her face was pressed against, but quickly tried to stop – she didn’t really want to both Roselyn and Megan if they didn’t want to participate. But already Shay was making Emma feel so good that keeping quiet was going to be a challenge.

Shay worked the vibrator in and out of Emma repeatedly for several minutes, working Emma towards a good, solid climax before suddenly pulling the pulsating device out of Emma’s pussy without warning. Emma gasped into the pillow, missing the sensation instantly, but a moment later it returned, though this time pressed against her back door.

“Are you sure?” Shay whispered in Emma’s ear, keeping the very tip of the dildo nestled against Emma’s asshole. Emma nodded her head as best she could while keeping her mouth blocked with the pillow, then nearly cried out again when Shay started to ease the vibrator into Emma’s ass.

Emma Roberts was no anal virgin. She’d had all sorts of dildos and even a real cock up there once or twice. That said, every time something first penetrated her ass, the sensation nearly overwhelmed her. That brief moment, when everything felt too big to get inside her, drove her wild in more ways than one. This time was no different, and Shay’s hesitation with how hard and how fast to push the dildo only made the moment stretch out longer.

Then, suddenly, Shay was in past the ring of Emma’s ass, and the pleasure went from the scary first moments to pure pleasure. Oh yes, Emma Roberts did so love getting her ass fucked.

Shay found herself enjoying it, too. Somehow, ramming this vibrating rod into Emma’s backside seemed so sexy, so powerful, so liberating. Usually, Shay was the one getting fucked by other girls, but this was fun, being in charge. She ran her free hand through Emma’s hair a bit as she pressed the dildo deeper into the teenager’s ass, and marveled at the sight of Emma’s body shaking in delight.

Shay had to be careful, though. She herself was getting hot, and she found herself licking her lips repeatedly. Her nipples were rock hard, and she was certain her pussy was dripping as much as Emma’s was. She knew she was almost as likely to start moaning as Emma was at this moment.

Not that she’d be doing this that much longer. Judging from the way Emma’s toes were curling up and her hands were gripping the pillow, the youngest robber was about to reach the promised  land.

Shay didn’t make her wait. Instead, she twisted the hand she was using to drive the vibrator into Emma’s ass enough so that when it was as far in as Emma could send it without losing it, Shay could touch Emma’s pussy with her pinkie finger.

Emma exploded, crying out into the pillow her face was in as orgasmic bliss washed over her young body. Shay quickly grabbed Emma’s hair and pushed the girl’s head deeper into the pillows, muffling her cries a bit more, but it was too late.

“I thought we told you to be quiet,” Megan’s voice wafted over the divider.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shay said quietly, meaning it.

“No you’re not,” Emma whispered.

“I didn’t want to wake them up,” Shay said, letting Emma up and handing the freshly turned-off vibrator to the younger girl.

“Fuck them, they don’t like it, they can plug their ears,” Emma said, reaching down and finally pulling the blue-green slip up over her head and chucking it towards the room divider – the lace fabric landed quietly over the top of it harmlessly. Not so harmless was Emma’s newly naked body, which she quickly pressed against Shay’s, kissing Shay so hard that the taller, darker-haired girl fell back onto the mattress, nearly hitting her skull upon the frame at the foot of the bed. Neither girl noticed.

Shay tried to break the kiss to ask what Emma was doing, but Emma wouldn’t let her. Indeed, she took each of Shay’s wrists in her hands and forced them under Shay’s back, using the combined weight  of the two women to pin them in place there. With Shay stuck like that, Emma moved so that she was scissoring her new lover, and quickly started thrusting her crotch against Shay’s.

At once, Shay realized what Emma was doing, and moaned into the other girl’s mouth, loving the sensation. Emma kept their mouths locked, her tongue darting into Shay’s to help keep the older woman from making too much noise. Shay might have appreciated the support if she’d been able to think about anything other than the supremely erotic sensation of Emma’s pussy rubbing against her own.

Shay didn’t last long – to be fair, what she’d done to Emma’s ass already had her primed to go, and hanging out with all the sexy ladies in this bunch had kept her a little aroused all day anyway. And she needed the release, and Emma was so sexy and so good with her hands, and mouth, and even her pussy.

Shay came like a fire hydrant, exploding like crazy, losing control of her body as she shook all over, climax shattering her brain. Emma, to her credit, both held Shay down and kept humping with her crotch, keeping up the sensation long enough for Shay to enjoy until she finally collapsed, her body spent.

“That-that was amazing,” Shay whispered when she could finally speak again.

“Yeah, we totally need to do THAT again,” Emma said.

“Just please do it sometime tomorrow!” Roselyn’s voice came over the divider.

Emma and Shay traded looks and started to giggle.

They might have kept going, but the door to the room opened, and Blake slipped in.

“I’m just going to crash on the floor in here, if that’s alright,” Blake said. “I can’t stay out there with those two any more.” As if to emphasize her point, Jaime’s voice came hollering after her.

“Yeah, take that cock up your ass, Kung Pow Pussy! That’s what you get for taking the Hobbit before I could!”

“Fine,” Roselyn said. “Just close the door first, please.”

“And everyone SHUT UP and let me SLEEP!” Megan added.

* * * * * * * * *

“This had better be urgent,” Rhona Mitra said flatly into her phone. “I’m in a very important meeting.”

Actually, Rhona was watching two young women on the bear rug in front of her kissing and fondling each other prior to all-out sex; but it WAS important. Bringing in English glamour models (and sometimes actual actresses) to pair with their American counterparts for her pleasure was expensive, and that was without ensuring they’d keep quiet. Plus, she liked to get off before she went to sleep.

“It’s crucial,” Ashley Benson assured her, twisting the ends of her hair with her non-phone-holding hand. “Troian managed to… to get away.”

“I see,” the boss replied, watching the busty English brunette bury her head between the nicely-blessed American blonde’s legs. “She must not have been as deceased as you thought.”

“I did the whole ‘Have you seen my friend? I think she’s hurt’ thing, and some kids told me Bellisario passed out at the bus stop after she called 911. Girl’s got the luck of the devil – the ambulance got there in like five minutes before I got there…”

“Even the devil can’t be lucky all the time, otherwise he’d never have been thrown out of Heaven. I see the Fellows of Bumbling Incompetence think your lovely friend may be involved… at least that’s going according to plan.”

Ashley was tempted to point out that Hayden Panettiere was not her friend, but she was under no illusions that Rhona would take kindly to correction.

“Miss Bellisario will not be a problem. Just stay the course, and it will take you to network news. This is, after all, why I came to you – I know an ambitious little slut when I see one.” Without waiting for a response, Rhona hung up.

“Airhead,” she said, and fixed her eyes on the young blonde and brunette.

“Cunt,” Ashley spat at the phone.

* * * * * * * * * *

The earliest indications of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of the room Jaime Pressly and Grace Park shared. Jaime slept the sleep of a woman who had fucked to her heart’s content, but her face still looked a little grim, as if she was pissed off even in REM state.

Grace wasn’t sleeping at all. Part of it was that in addition to all the other things that kept her from being the ideal woman, Jaime snored; part of it was her sense of duty;  and part of it was another sense…  she had had it hard inside her back alley before, but Saline Tits had hit that long, hard and painfully. Really painfully. Like forcing a jackhammer up there painfully – she hadn’t been fucked that brutally in the behind since the last time she’d had it from a man. Actually, she remembered with a rueful chuckle, that was the LAST time she’d had it from a man… how Blake could be so fond of cock she didn’t know, but different strokes.

Glad that Jaime wasn’t holding an arm around her, the computer whiz rolled herself out of bed.  She had something to do that couldn’t wait – after today, if all went well they’d never see each other again. Which was why it had to be today…

She quietly opened the door of the room of choice, and smiled at what she saw and heard. Grace heard nothing but quiet breathing as Emma Roberts, Shay Mitchell and Blake Lively slept; no snoring here or from the other side of the divider. Blake was sleeping on the floor on her front, and Grace was disappointed but not surprised to see that she was the only one of the three actually wearing something; trust Blake to have brought along a nightdress.

Grace really, REALLY wanted to lift it up and have a nice long look, but Blake’s beautiful body might have kept her occupied for too long. Fortunately, there were two other far more accessible ladies; Shay and Emma were asleep in each other’s arms, and it didn’t escape Grace’s notice that Shay’s rear was round enough that Emma was virtually squeezing it in her sleep.

Creeping over to the side Emma slept on, Grace knelt down by the mattress and ran her eyes down the pale, slumbering safecracker. She rested her gaze on the girl’s soft, gorgeous rump with that little two-inch scar on it, lightly moving her right index finger down the line.

“You did say I could lick it,” Grace said to herself, and rested her head against it. Lucky Emma, getting to sit on such a fabulous bottom… she turned around, her tongue extending to touch the base of the scar. Grace slowly ran the tip of her tongue over it; while she was no animal lover and she would have happily put down the mutt who dared to bite Emma’s booty, she’d have done it painlessly because it was such a sexy little imperfection. Prodding the flesh with her tongue, she licked it again and again – and her right hand’s fingers started to touch the non-scarred cheek. Emma’s ass was like silk and she loved it, but Grace had other things to do here.

Other things that could wait a bit.

She kissed Emma’s scar, and then the flesh above and below it as the safecracker turned in her sleep. Fortunately the position of her butt didn’t change enough to make it a problem; faced with Emma’s long cleft, Grace slid her tongue all the way along it. She was relieved it wasn’t Jaime – she knew from bitter experience (like last night) that Saline Tits wasn’t always the cleanest back there, but Miss Roberts… now SHE knew the meaning of the word “hygiene.” (Grace was willing to bet Blake Lively did as well – if only she dared to find out.) Grace would have loved to take a bite, but not too deep. Not yet.

Resting both her hands on the girl’s cheeks, Grace carefully stroked them as she kissed the cleft before she let a finger move along it and then inside. Glad she kept her nails short, Grace slowly pushed the finger down and sighed as the tip touched the hole at the bottom; there it was. She let her finger probe into Emma’s enclosed asshole, wriggling it slightly before bringing it back out.

Grace rested the lucky finger on her box as her tongue touched Emma’s cleft again, probing inside and moving as delicately as possible, going for Emma’s little entrance. Mmmm, and there it was…

Emma moaned in her sleep as Grace slid her tongue along the tiny little circle, licking slowly. She wished she had a tongue like a lizard – she never went as deep as she wanted, and Emma had one of the sweetest-tasting assholes she’d ever encountered. Honestly, if she had a cock she’d probably have come right there – just as well she didn’t. Grace enjoyed every square inch inside there as she sucked away, her fingers squeezing and pinching both of the girl’s buns. Emma moved around, still seeming to be asleep, as the hacker moved back and spread the girl’s ass.

Grace gazed on Emma’s open back door, feeling herself moistening, before dipping down again for seconds. The scar had been lovely, but it was the icing on the cake. And she loved cake, or should it be buns? Whatever… her mouth returned to Emma’s opening, dabbing and licking with more urgency this time, and munching so eagerly it was almost like the girl had an extra cunt. Her hands were rubbing and clutching the safecracker’s buttocks like they were a lifeline, and even though Grace wasn’t aware of it, her little finger was roaming along Emma’s scar as if she had its location in her subconscious.

The hacker could feel Emma quivering in her sleep, little gasps interrupting her rhythm; if Grace had had a free hand she could have felt to see if the girl’s box was getting as damp as her own, but she was fine with not breaking off to find out because with each poke of her tongue deeper inside Emma she was getting closer to wishing that she could take up cracking safes instead… spend more time with Emma Roberts and get a chance to tap this more often…

Emma’s body shook inside Shay’s arms, sending vibrations through Grace as she left one final kiss before letting her go. She didn’t know how long she’d been eating out Miss Roberts’s behind, but she didn’t hurt so much now; Grace pulled herself up and moved herself along, pressing her steaming pussy onto the girl’s butt and sliding her crotch along it. Why did Jaime have to use Edgemont on her last night and insist on keeping it (“I gotta get me a new one ‘cause Dwarf Lois Lane ruined mine”)? Grace could have had so much more fun with Emma if she had her strap-on. Sighing over what could have been but happy with what was, the hacker gave Emma a last look.

“Thanks for the wake-up call…” the safecracker mumbled into Shay’s hair.

“No problem,” Grace whispered, seeing that Shay was somehow still asleep.  She cast her eyes on the divider, and immediately put the idea of extending the alarm out of her mind; she had to get back into her own bed, just in case Jaime woke up and wanted to get frisky again.

Grace looked down at Blake, also still asleep. She was wearing a nightdress that ended just above her knees, and it wasn’t exactly clingy. As a glint of fun entered her eyes, she knelt down and gently took the hem of Blake’s nightdress; no sense in letting an opportunity to see Blake Lively’s long bare thighs and dethonged ass, and if she peered close maybe even a bit of her pussy, go to waste…

“Grace, if you lift that up I will fucking end you,” Blake muttered without turning her head.

Simultaneously impressed and flustered, the hacker dropped the hem and let herself out.

* * * * * * * * *

Unlike Lucy or Hayden, JoAnna had yet to get any kind of action since this whole nightmare had started; as a result, she was the only one of the three who was still tied up when she fell asleep. But in her head, it was over and she was free, safe at home with Jason.

The two were in the shower, JoAnna lathering up her man and enjoying his hands soaping up her perky little breasts. As the water cascaded over their bodies, she told herself not to rush down to his cock; it was the weekend, and they had all the time in the world. But really, the textures of his body under her fingers and the soapy foam were making it really hard to resist…

Jason was finding it even harder, judging from his suddenly inclining his head down and giving one of JoAnna’s nipples a little taste.

“You know how it goes, at least TRY to do what we’re here for…”

“What do you think I’m doing, baby?” Jason laughed.

“Be nice, or *this* doesn’t get the deep-clean treatment,” JoAnna giggled, dropping a hand between Jason’s legs and running a finger along his cock before bringing it back up and continuing to soap his taut, muscled body. She was really looking forward to cleaning those hard to reach places in particular; she peered over to take a look as the bar of soap traversed down his back. His smooth, hairless back…

Wait a minute. Jason did like to take care of himself but he wasn’t such a priss that he went in for all-over dilapidation – there should have been some fuzz back there, at least. And why was his ass suddenly decidedly rounder… almost female-looking?

And his body was feeling softer. It smelt nicer too, she had to admit, and it wasn’t just because of the setting.  JoAnna’s hands weren’t detecting any kind of muscles, but as she moved them down his sides they started to curve inwards, following the contours of his body. Okay, now this was just weird…

JoAnna moved her head back, and found herself face to face with a pair of full, high, extremely well-formed breasts with dark hair arrayed on either side. They were beautiful. “And those are NOT man-boobs,” she said aloud.

“I should hope not,” Shay Mitchell replied, her soap-covered hands stroking JoAnna’s shoulders. “Now isn’t this better than Jason?”

“Well, he does have a nice… thing,” JoAnna admitted. “And he isn’t bad at giving head.”

“But can you get this from him?”

Shay gently pressed her palms on JoAnna’s shoulders, and the redhead knelt/let herself sink to the tiles, her eyes glued to the coffee-coloured teller until they were gazing right on Shay’s box. It was like she was in one of the movies she and Jason liked to watch sometimes very late at night; breastplay was as far as she’d ever gotten until now.

“I hear it tastes like sushi,” she said a little nervously.

“Only one way to find out,” Shay replied, smiling kindly down on her.

“Umm…” JoAnna couldn’t believe she was asking this. “Is it okay if I touch your butt while I’m… you know…”

“All you had to do was ask. And you didn’t even have to do that.”

Closing her eyes and touching Shay’s soft, perfect rump, JoAnna dipped her tongue into Miss Mitchell’s snatch as the water flow increased, rushing over each of them louder as she flicked and tasted. It didn’t taste like sushi; it was like… oh boy, she didn’t know what Shay tasted like, but she wanted more of it. A lot more. It was sweet and tangy, better than any cock she had ever sucked. Ever.  Her hands stroking Shay’s ass as if it was a shrine, JoAnna pressed her head harder against the soaking girl’s pussy and moved her tongue deeper as the sound of the shower, and of singing, grew ever louder…

“…so come on this is my adventure, this is my fantasy…”

In the next room, the shower really was running and someone really was singing in it – but whoever it was, JoAnna reflected ruefully as real life crashed in, had a higher voice than Shay (not exactly Michael Clarke Duncan herself).  Hayden was also still on the bed, and since none of the other robbers looked as if they were likely to be watching Nickelodeon (although JoAnna had to admit, some of the guys on the shows were VERY cute – so she’d heard, of course…), that only left Lucy.

Rueing the twin facts that she hadn’t woken up first and that she was the only one of the three hostages who hadn’t been cut loose for sex purposes – not because she wanted to be fucked by Shay (by THEM!) but because being unbound would have made it easier to get undressed and in the bath – the redhead turned to her blonde bedmate, also awake and humming a little tune (while waiting for Lucy to finish in the shower).

“Catchy tune…”

“The theme from ’Human Target,’” Hayden explained. “They should NEVER have changed the music  after the first season; dumping Bear McCreary for the guy who does ‘Chuck’? Bad idea…”

JoAnna’s fiancé had been among the few people to stay with the show throughout either season, but she’d never watched an episode in full and she had no idea who this Bear McCreary guy was. Anyway, she had other things on her mind.

“I heard you with that blonde last night,” JoAnna said, thankful that Jaime hadn’t put the gag back on.

“Glad to be of service,” Hayden replied. “Just trying to get into their good books for when this is over.”

“It might be over sooner than you think,” the redhead admitted nervously.

“They need us to get out of here, and I don’t think they’ll dump us somewhere with bullets in our heads.”

“Well, certainly not two of us… are you a religious woman?”

“Not really,” Hayden ‘fessed up.

“Couldn’t hurt to pray you don’t draw Jaime.”

“If we all do it, one of us isn’t going to get her prayer answered,” the reporter pointed out.

“There is something you can do now though,” JoAnna said, turning with her back to Hayden. “You can untie me.”

“Question, Miss… er, I never got your name…”

“JoAnna Garcia,” the teller replied as Hayden struggled a little with the Gordian knots those robbers had used on them; no wonder Grace and Jaime had gone for the same way of loosening them as Alexander the Great had.

“If you had to fuck any of these robbers, which one would it be?”

“I don’t want to f… sleep with any of them, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” Hayden smiled. “Then how come you kept me up by going ‘Shay Mitchell, you’re so hot’ half the night?”

At that moment, a freshly-scrubbed Lucy Hale came back into the room. “Okay, all yours… um, how come your face is so red, JoAnna?”

* * * * * * * * *

Nine showers of varying lengths later, they were gathered together with the set tuned to Channel 7 again; at least the news wasn’t on yet.

“Which one’a you bitches finished off the hot water?” Jaime grumbled as she swigged her coffee and waited for the news to end.

Grace, who’d been the next to last to shower, didn’t say a word as she concentrated on her computers.

“Never mind,” Megan admonished, munching an oatmeal and raisin cookie. “We’ll be out of here by… Roselyn?”

Roselyn wanted to suggest that they stay until they heard from Rhona, but at the same time they knew that the longer they hung around, the more likely it was that Jaime was right about Rhona never coming. Wishing that it was someone else’s decision to make, she swallowed her doughnut (and wished they’d gotten something decent to eat around here, but they needed Grace on the computers and Megan, the only other member of the gang who’d never been seen – mask or no mask – was the only other member who could move out and about relatively safely, and none of them had bothered to give her a shopping list. Plus, y’know, spending stolen money instead of using what they had on them…).

“We’ll make a move at noon,” Roselyn stated. “This whole thing started around then, so it ends around then.”

“Fine with me,” Blake agreed. “The sooner we get out of this, the better.”

“Finally we agree on something,” Emma muttered, studying the TV and pretending to be interested in that morning’s paternity dispute on “Maury.”

“Maybe we should make the draw now,” Shay suggested, not even pretending to be interested in Mr. Povich and his guests.

“For what?” Lucy asked, from the floor where she and JoAnna had been relegated – not enough chairs or cushions.

“For who goes with which group,” Roselyn replied. “Did my girls LITERALLY fuck your brains out last night?”

She regretted saying that the second she said it, and told herself to keep from losing it. It wasn’t Lucy’s fault she was here… “Actually, Shay’s right – we should decide who takes who. And as soon as the reporter gets back from the bathroom we’ll do it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Blake and Lucy were the only people involved, robbers or hostages, who’d had the chance to do any clothes-changing. Back in her dress, Hayden had made sure to get into the bathroom again as soon as she’d bathed – she’d told her fellow hostages that she really needed it. Which was true, but there was another reason as well.

Relieved in both senses of the word, the blonde reporter took her cellphone out – it had been a double stroke of luck that no one had found it and that she’d had it on silent. And as a bonus, she knew where they were; a little message via the ol’ 911 and…

“2 New Messages.”

Well, Hayden was a fast texter – she could scan the messages before sending out the SOS. Hayden pressed “View,” and was more than a little happy to see that the two messages were from Troian. At least she could let her know she was OK… the reporter opened them in order of arrival:

“Mushroom – A’s in on the robbery and she set you up. My ass still hurts but so will hers when I get my hands on her. Luv you, Troi.”

“Ashley nearly killed me. In it with some Rhona Mitra bitch. Call me when you get this. Sorry I called you Mushroom. T.”

Hayden stared at the phone screen, feeling as if she had been hit around the head with a sledgehammer. This couldn’t be happening… Ashley had done this to her? And to Troian? Was she okay? How big WAS this?

She shook her head to try and clear it, and her finger pressed “Reply.”

“T.-“ And that was all she had time to write before the screen suddenly changed to show a rectangular shape and the words “BATTERY EMPTY.”

“Shit!” the reporter hissed as it went off. Of all the days she had to pick to not charge her phone, it had to be yesterday. “This just gets better and better…”

* * * * * * * * * *

“About time!”

“Nice to see you too,” Hayden snapped at Megan as she went for whatever food was left, picking up a Berliner doughnut.

“Sorry, it’s just that we’ve got something to sort out and we had to have the whole gang here,” said the driver, offering the reporter a small bag. “Here, have a—“

“Uh uh uh,” Roselyn interrupted. “It’s in alphabetical order, forgotten?  JoAnna first, then Lucy Hale, and THEN our reporter friend.”

“She ain’t MY friend,” Jaime muttered, and shot Blake and Emma a look that *dared* them to make a comment. The friend to all men and the safecracker drew imaginary zips across their lips.

“Go for it,” Megan said, handing the bag to JoAnna as Hayden, munching her doughnut, joined the other hostages. “And remember, no looking.”

JoAnna shut her eyes as she put her fingers inside the bag, and pulled out a chocolate bar. When she opened her eyes, she visibly sighed in relief on seeing an Almond Joy bar; she handed the bag to Lucy who squeezed her eyes shut, fingering inside the bag and mouthing “Eeny-meeny-miny-mo” before pulling out a Hershey’s milk chocolate bar.

“Sorry,” she mouthed before handing the bag to Hayden.  Not knowing what for, the reporter put her hand in the bag, eyes closed like the others, before pulling out a Cookies’n’Crème bar.

“You didn’t really have to shut your eyes for that one,” Grace chuckled. “There were only three in there – one for each group when we make like trees and get out of here. It was Megan’s idea – she’s got a sweet tooth. Among other things,” she added with an eye on Megan’s shirt and the nipples poking through it.

“Eyes off the tits and back on the screen, Nerd Girl,” Megan muttered. “Anyway, Lucy got the plain old candy bar so she’s going with me, Grace and Blake.”

“And the Almond Joy?” Hayden asked, as JoAnna filled her mouth; this was one time she felt like a nut, all right.

“Means JoAnna’s going with me and Emma,” Shay explained.

“So that means I’m going with…  oh, FUCK.”

“Eat up, shrimp,” Jaime cackled. “You, me and the boss lady are gonna have a lot of fun on our little road trip.”

As Hayden took a bite of her bar, she and Roselyn exchanged resigned looks.

* * * * * * * * * *

Unlike Hayden’s phone, Ashley’s was fully charged up and vibrating away as soon as she got out of the shower.

“Oh, gimme a break!” she shouted at the phone. It was bad enough that Troian was out of her hands – and even though Rhona had assured her she’d be taken care of, who knew how long that would take? – but she hadn’t managed to have any sex last night; by the time the men Rhona had sent had straightened up everything and removed any lingering Bellisarian traces, she just wanted to get to bed.

And now this… Ashley snatched the phone up and read the message. It wasn’t much, just some information, but it was all she needed. And it was from Rhona.

She could do this. She’d done it before…

* * * * * * * * *

The Jane Doe had been out like a light since arriving at San Francisco General Hospital the night before; she looked like she had gone 15 rounds with Wolverine and the Predator. The paramedics who brought her in had joked about wondering what the other lady looked like, and looked for ID on her – in neither case had they been successful.

For the time being, neither the doctors on duty nor anyone else would know where Troian Bellisario was.

* * * * * * * * * *

Grace was munching on pretzels and had all hailing frequencies open like an Asiatic Uhura – basically, like Hoshi Sato – and Megan was out lining up three alternate methods of transportation (read: heisting three cars). Everyone else studied JoAnna Garcia and Shay Mitchell as the two tellers – real and fictional – sat among the banknotes and coins, each counting the take and dividing it as fast as they could; even though high noon was still four hours away, the sooner all this was settled the faster they could split. But even with two of them going through all the green-white bills, it took some time.

“If this was British currency it would be easier to keep track,” Emma mused. “Different colours, different sizes…”

“What good old American greenbacks lack in variety they make up for in volume,” Roselyn pointed out. “Plus they’re easier to fold in your purse or bag or whatever.”

“… and that’s your $1,114,285.72 (approx.) each, three times over,” JoAnna finished, pushing the bag containing the swag over to Blake. “Nice doing business with you,” she added with the standard smile as she and Shay began on the final load – Shay and Emma’s (Roselyn had insisted on doing the boss’s first and Jaime, for once, had agreed).

“Megan’ll be so pleased when she gets back,” Blake said. “Just hope she doesn’t get a girl’s car.”

“What, you’re the world’s greatest tranny?” Jaime cackled.

“No… it’s just that I’ve never had any luck dealing with women, is all.”

“Superstitous, are we?”  Grace laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re in the car with the wheelgirl. We’ll be fine.”

“Hey, have you gotten anything yet?” Shay asked as her fingers dealt with the notes.

“Cool it, kid. As soon as I hear anything you’ll be the first to… oh CRAP!”

Everyone turned to look at the hacker on those last two words, as Grace brought up the volume on the speakers. Since she’d gotten to the monitors she’d been checking all the police frequencies with a particular emphasis on the lines going into the stations – and so far there’d been nothing. Until now.

“Yes, go on, ma’am,” said the police dispatcher, a little fuzzily but clear enough for them all to hear.

“I was heading to work… and I think I saw the van from the bank robbery yesterday – the one that was on the news…” a nervous female voice said. “It was parked just outside the… wait, it’s coming to me… the Victoria’s Secret on Stockton Street, the one that closed down a while back…”

Roselyn snatched up her cellphone, muttering “Please, Megan, have your damn handsfree on” to herself as she dialled.

A sharp cry cut through the air – everyone glanced at the source as the witness continued to give away their location.

“ASHLEY!?!” yelled a shocked Hayden Panettiere.

* * * * * * * * *

“…it’s a big brown GMC cargo van…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…plate number 4GHD859. I don’t know if it’s still there or not…”

“If it isn’t, we know who to look for. Thank you, miss…”

“Just wanted to help… I saw the reports…” Ashley said, reading the information Rhona had sent her in the same voice she’d used when tipping off Hayden.

* * * * * * * * *

“Who?” asked Emma.

“She means Ashley Benson from Channel 7,” Grace explained. “Doesn’t sound like her though-“

“SHE GOT ME DOWN HERE!” the reporter shouted. “That’s the same voice she put on! My girl was right; that bitch is in this up to her bleached head!”

“Hang on,” Jaime said icily. “Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?”

“The phone, dwarf. Either you and your girlfriend have some kinda freak psychic link or she managed to get some messages in to you, and I ain’t about to let you get some out.”

“But my phone’s dead!”

“Gimme the fucking phone, or you’re gonna join it!”

Glaring at Jaime, Hayden took the phone out and handed it over. “Benson beat up my girlfriend and I don’t know how she is – if anything else happens to Troian, I *promise* your pals are going to be splitting up your share of the take.”

“Like you could take care of me?”

“I hear she took care of her pretty good last night,” Blake whispered, and Shay couldn’t resist a smile.

“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGAIN?” Jaime snarled.

Nothing.  From any of them.

* * * * * * * * *

There were two ways to steal cars – quickly, or smartly. Megan Fox specialized more in the second category, though in times of crisis, she could do fast as well as she did smart.

Of course, stealing cars the smart way takes time, and she couldn’t just grab the first three cars she found on Stockton Street. Three cars go missing on the same street, and the cops start to notice. No, she’d have to spread her thieving out a little.

Of course, she could only get so far on foot. If she’d thought about it, she would’ve brought one of the other girls along to drive her further out into San Fran to find more cars. The selection in the neighborhoods around the abandoned Victoria’s Secret was decidedly lower middle-class, not the usual hot rods Megan preferred. There were no Corvette Stingrays, no Mercedes Benz E550’s or the precious SLS AMGs, not even a sporty little Firebird or anything of the like.

No, Megan was forced to make due with a Nissan. A Nissan Sentra, clearly a good decade old, in the most unremarkable grey paint job she’d ever seen. But the guy she’d seen getting out of it had left his keys in the windshield visor and thought his remote was enough to keep it safe. Megan had a universal remote in her left breast pocket that unlocked the car in less than thirty seconds. Then it was just a casual walk over to the Nissan, open the door, and drive it the four blocks back to Stockton Street.

She didn’t park the car near the Victoria’s Secret – though there were enough spaces out front she could have. The store was abandoned, and if there were suddenly a lot of cars showing up, it would draw attention from some nosy neighbor or something, and even if the girls left quickly, that was a risk none of them wanted to take. Better to spread the cars out a little bit, leaving them on the street.

After parking the Nissan and taking the keys with her, Megan went in the completely opposite direction, strolling six blocks to the south-west where she found a blue-green Chevy Cavalier that was running outside the Washington & Hyde Mini Park. It was even older than the Nissan, but had more horsepower and had the added bonus of a nearly full tank of gas. Whoever had left it running didn’t seem to notice when she pulled out against traffic and started riding back towards Stockton Street.

That was when her phone rang.

“Megan?” Roselyn’s voice was clipped and hurried, something that didn’t help with her accent.

“Boss lady?” Megan asked. “What’s up?”

“We’ve been made – cops just got a call giving away our position EXACTLY. Get back here with the rides, FAST.”

“Shit, I’ve still got another car to steal first!”

“No TIME! Just grab one here on the street, and we’ll go as soon as you get it to us!” With that, Roselyn hung up, leaving Megan swearing at her cellphone.

This time, she dropped the Chevy off right in front of the Victoria’s Secret – no time for keeping secrets now, she mused, then rushed down the street. There weren’t many choices, and her time was short, so when she saw a boxy, grey little Ford Escort wagon with its window half rolled down, she took it. She only had to drive it down the street – she was taking the Chevy to get her, Grace, Blake and their hostage out of town. This wheel girl was taking the most horsepower she could get out of her limited options.

She was a bit surprised at the quality shape the Ford was in – it was clearly ancient, her age if not older, but when she hotwired it, the engine purred to life, and the little box handled like a dream for a car of its size. Sure, it had a tape deck in it – a TAPE deck, not even a CD player, let alone MP3, but an honest to god tape deck! – but whoever kept this relic clearly had loved and cared for the machine. It was a piece of luck that Megan was happy to take as she darted the little thing down the street to the Victoria’s Secret, pulling it up right next to the broken van. Ten seconds later, she was rushing up the stairs to the hideout, half expecting the cops to pull in behind her.

“You guys all packed up and ready to go?!” she yelled as soon as she burst into the main area.

They’d all gotten packed up, meaning they had their weapons and the money; Grace would have to leave the hardware behind, but there wasn’t anything on them that could tell the cops where they were heading. In any case, once they were free and clear she could buy some decent shit.

“What are you going to do to us?” Lucy asked, her arms nearly torn out of their sockets with the weight of all the money in the bag she was carrying.

“We’re dropping you off at the state line,” Megan told her.

“Alive?” Jaime asked in disbelief.

“YES, ALIVE!” the driver snapped at the blonde, before returning to Lucy and relieving her of the bag. “You’re not gonna say anything, are you?”

“Not a word,” she replied in relief as they headed for the door, grateful for not being hustled along the way Hayden was by Jaime. “I just wanna get out of here.”

“Seconded,” panted JoAnna, wondering when it had been decided that the hostages should carry all or most of the cash.

“Thirded,” grunted Hayden.

“Okay, outside there’s a blue-green Chevy and a grey Ford Escort wagon – my group’s got the Chevy, and Shay and her team take the wagon.”

“Oooh, leg room. I like it,” Shay giggled.

“Roselyn, you and the others go down two blocks to the left and you’ll find a grey Nissan Sentra; that’s your ride. If you don’t like what you got wait until you get out of the city to change it.”

“Like we’re going to stay in the same stolen cars for who knows how long?” Grace asked. “I may be a geek, but I’m not stupid.”

“Well, I’m not going to pretend it was a blast working with you all… especially Emma… because it wasn’t,” Blake said, brushing her hair aside. “But you must admit it was quite a payday.”

“No shit. The next time I’m going back to working alone though,” the safecracker added.

“Just glad I’ve got enough to get out of the country,” Shay said as they got outside. “Make a fresh start, go somewhere no one knows me…”

“Wait wait wait… where we all headed anyway? Not all in the same direction,” Jaime pointed out.

“I’m taking my crew south,” Roselyn stated. “I’ll feel safer once I’m in Mexico – family, friends, places to hide.”

“Do you wanna drive, Shay?” Emma asked.

“Not really,” the family criminal admitted.  “Cars always make me a little nervous.”

“Long time to the border, because unless this thing works underwater I’m heading East. Always wanted to visit Texas.”

“You got a problem with Canuck TV, ladies?” Grace asked. “It’s gonna be a long trip up the coast.”

“Vancouver’s a nice place to visit; I could try and get to Hong Kong from there,” Blake agreed wistfully; she’d had some fun times there. They loved tall American blondes…

An instant later she snapped out of her reverie with a yelp as Grace slapped her ass. “Move it or lose it!”

“You were just looking for an excuse, weren’t you?” Blake muttered.

“You heard the lady – goodbye, and good luck…” Roselyn said.

“Maybe we’ll meet up again sometime,” Grace said to Hayden with a little smile.

“If we’re unlucky,” the reporter replied, returning the smile as she and all the others moved it, each getting into or heading down the street to their cars; Lucy dumped the money in the boot before joining Grace in the back seat.

As she slinked into the front to join Megan, Blake saw Grace’s eyes zeroing in straight on her legs and she sighed in resignation. Grace had been right – this was gonna be a LONG trip.

* * * * * * * * *

“Have you seen Troian?”

“I heard she had to go to the hospital,” Ashley told the intern. “Whatever she had, must’ve gotten worse since yesterday. Poor kid.”

“Yeah, I hope she and Hayden get back soon… I don’t want to have to come in and find out we have to do her obituary.”

“That would suck,” Ashley lied.

* * * * * * * * *

As she got to her cubicle, Tammin Sursok – for the first time since she had no idea how long – wasn’t dreading work this morning. They were still a way from getting those robbers, but they were a little closer than yesterday; she had yet to find out much about this R.M. Housing, but it was a crack in the surface and even the tiniest crack could become a big, wide opening. Al Capone had gone down because of simple tax fraud – who was to say that a real estate deal couldn’t be responsible for the whole thing coming to a head?

In the meantime, as she punched in and mentally just plain punched the first of the many, many people who said “Hi, BJ!” she set herself to tracking down whoever was in charge of the company. Deep Throat – now there was a sex reference she could live with – had had the right idea; follow the money. The money owned R.M., the money had gotten Reiko, and the money had to have some kind of link to Emma… maybe even to what was left of the Roberts family…

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eh kid?”

Tammin looked up from her desk in amazement. Kristen Bell was actually EARLY?

“You should have seen Biel’s face when she heard I got in on time for once,” the blonde Fed chuckled. “Thought it was a terror attack or something… it’s just that when I’m on a case, I just can’t rest, you know? Not until it’s all wrapped up.”

“I read you, K-Bell.”

“I told you before – don’t call me that.”

Tammin had learned not to argue with Federal hypocrisy unless she was in a really strong position to do so.

“So have you got anything on that real estate place?” Kristen continued.

“Nothing much so far – they’ve been in business for about four or five years, and they’re not about to file for Chapter 11 any time soon. There is one thing, though… I found out what the R.M. stands for.”

“Oh, this’ll be thrilling,” Kristen said, pretending to be hooked.

“It’s for the two partners – the M is Monica Bellucci, but the R is where it gets interesting. The R is Roselyn Sanchez.”

Kristen’s eyebrows raised; she wasn’t pretending any longer. “THE Roselyn Sanchez? As in the Black Panty Gang?”

“Could be. The company’s website has their bios, but Monica’s is a lot more thorough than Roselyn’s even allowing for her having top billing. And check this out…” Tammin brought up the page on the site, and scrolled down to Monica’s section. The screen showed lots of text detailing her credentials and prior career next to a picture of a fleshy, smouldering black-haired woman; Kristen whistled. That woman could sell fridges to Eskimos, or XXXL underwear to Kristen Bell.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Tammin laughed. “Now check out the other founder.” The page went down to Roselyn’s part; there was also a fair amount of text. But…

“No picture,” Kristen mused. “That IS interesting.”

“She might just be shy, and it could be another Roselyn Sanchez, but it’s the best we’ve got now. Might be more interesting to see what her partner thinks about it; maybe she doesn’t know about Roselyn’s skeletons. “

“Or maybe she does and she’s keeping quiet for the good of the business. Or her own good.”

“Roselyn never killed anybody,” Tammin pointed out.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“Anyway, once I’ve put some other stuff to bed I’m heading down there to talk to Bellucci and see if she can shed any light on what they’re doing with Emma Roberts.”

“Got an appointment?”

“Screw that, we’re the FBI…”

“BELL!”

Jessica Biel’s husky voice came close to cracking as she shouted for the agent, running out of her office holstering her gun. Kristen shot her head round to face her boss.

“Emergency?”

“You bet your tiny ass it’s an emergency! SFPD did something right for once – just told us someone saw the van they used in the Union Bank job, parked outside the Victoria’s Secret on Stockton! Called like two or three minutes ago…”

Kristen immediately started for the door, and Tammin instinctively got up to follow.

“Where do you think YOU’RE going, young lady? This one’s for the grownups… “

“I’ve got other things to do, anyway,” Agent Sursok told Kristen, hiding her disappointment. She didn’t even turn to check out the way the agents wiggled when they ran out.

Shut out though she may have been, she was right; she did have other things to do. Like get told to make coffee in the next few minutes, since R.M. Housing didn’t open until 9. Why didn’t they just get Beverley Mitchell to do it? She was the secretary, it was her JOB…

* * * * * * * * *

Pushing the car as close to the speed limit as she dared, Kristen propelled herself and Jessica towards Stockton Street.

“FUCK the limit! I’ll pay for the ticket!” Jessica shouted as they saw a series of black-and-whites heading in the same direction.

Kristen stamped on the accelerator; the cops may have been wanting to get the gang for being responsible for killing some of their own (it was a miracle that the driver of the trolley car had survived – minus two legs and an arm, but at least he wouldn’t be added to the body count), but she’d be damned if they were going to be left out of the fun.

They weren’t the first on the scene, but they did come in second. The two Feds leaped out of the car the second Kristen screeched it to a stop near the van, and ran into the store along with several other uniformed cops.

Both had their guns out, and burst into the main area expecting to catch several surprised robbers and three grateful hostages but not expecting much in the way of resistance; and got what they expected. In terms of resistance, anyway.

There were lots of empty food wrappings, cushions and chairs with all the signs of having been occupied recently, and some computers nearby. But no sign of any humans, robbers or otherwise.

“YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Kristen shouted. “It was like just NOW we heard!”

Disbelieving that defeat had been snatched from the jaws of victory, Kristen and the cops raced throughout the hideout on what they knew was a wild goose chase, but hoping that maybe, just maybe one of them might be still there.  All the rooms were burst into in a matter of seconds, but there wasn’t hide nor hair to be found. Plenty of slept-on bedding, but nothing else.

“DAMMIT!” Jessica yelled, glaring at the computers. “WE WERE SO CLOSE!!!”

If they weren’t evidence, she would have emptied her gun into them.

* * * * * * * * *

Paperwork, filing and coffee had all piled up on Tammin, but at last she had managed to leave the building once all three had been completed as fast as she could. Certainly a lot faster than dealing with the traffic; she’d done a lot of glaring and swearing at traffic lights, but eventually she found herself pulling up to the building that housed R.M. Housing; the elevators were out of service, so it was a good thing they were on the ground floor. Okay, it would have been good exercise to walk up however many flights it would have been, but entering an office sweaty and a little breathless did not the ideal impression make.

R.M. Housing had about a quarter of the floor to itself; taking a look through the big glass doors with the company’s name on them she eyed the several desks filled with vampires – er, realtors – before she opened the glass doors. Tammin summoned up all her Federal officialism and strode up to the receptionist, trying not to let her façade crack on seeing a striking young woman behind the desk.

“Welcome to R.M. Housing. How may I help you?” she smiled widely.

“Agent Sursok, FBI,” Tammin replied briskly, showing the receptionist her badge. “Is your boss here?”

“Which one?” the receptionist asked unflappably. “Miss Sanchez or Miss Bellucci?”

“Miss Bellucci. We’re conducting a few routine inquiries into-“

“Wait, is it about that bank robbery yesterday? It is, isn’t it?” the receptionist interrupted.

“I really can’t say; it’s between me and Miss Bellucci. Now is she in, please?”

“She’s stepped out to meet a client, but she should be back in half an hour. If you’d like to…”

Tammin walked over to one of the chairs, sat down and took out her Kindle.

“Oh, you would.”

* * * * * * * * *

“How the hell did they get out so fast?!?” Kristen fumed as she and Jessica arrived in the office.

“You saw the set up; computers, speakers…  this gang seems to have gotten everything covered.”

“Not enough to keep from ID’ing one of them.”

“Yeah, but enough to keep from getting caught,” Jessica replied. “If they knew enough to get past the bank’s systems, they must have had someone keeping an eye on the police frequencies – the second someone called SFPD they must have been like a cat with its tail on fire. And we don’t even know what they used to get away or what!” The director slammed a fist against a cabinet, making the man sitting next to it jump. “I want them, Bell. If they get out of the country and they’ve split up  it’ll be hell getting them back. Man, I need some coffee…”

As they passed Beverley’s desk she drew a breath.

“BJ isn’t here,” Beverley said, correctly guessing what was coming next as she tapped her keyboard. “She said she was following up a lead you got from Aylesworth.”

“We might be able to salvage this day depending on what she turns up,” Jessica said. “C’mon, let’s get something hot and brown inside us. This time, I’ll make it.”

Kristen’s eyes widened. “You trust me with guns but not with coffee? That… is oddly reassuring.”

* * * * * * * * *

On the job she may have been, but even FBI agents slipped every now and then. Tammin’s mind had drifted from the interview to the exploits of Katniss Everdeen, and she was sunk so deep into “Mockingjay” that she almost dropped the Kindle when a hand tapped her shoulder.

“Yes?” she asked, mixing annoyance at having to abandon Suzanne Collins with a realisation that she had a job to do.

“Miss Bellucci just arrived,” the receptionist told her. “I did tell you… that must be some book you have there.”

“It is, yes,” Tammin admitted, mentally kicking herself for being unprofessional. “My fault.”

“Nah, the writer would be flattered,” said the receptionist. “I’ll let her know you’re here, and she’ll see you in a moment.”

Putting away the Kindle, Tammin’s wait this time was a lot shorter. “Go right in, Agent Sursok.”

Tammin went right in, resisting the urge to take one last look at the receptionist. Knowing her luck, she was probably straight or with someone…

This was not a bad place to work from, she thought as she entered Monica Bellucci’s office. A lot brighter, and more plush. She was thinking that if they ever caught the robbers they’d be holed up in a penthouse suite at this rate. And the most impressive thing in the office was sitting behind the desk, looking like she should have been on the cover of a fashion magazine rather than in a real estate agency. She was in her late 40s, but Tammin suddenly felt like she was seriously outgunned – the jet-black hair and eyes like almonds among the aquiline features of her face, and a body that screamed sex…

“You must be Agent Sursok,” Monica said in a soft Italian accent. “Jennifer told me you wanted to see me…”

“Jennifer?” Tammin asked, distracted by the realtor’s bosom for a moment.

“Jennifer Lawrence. My receptionist,” Monica explained, in a manner suggesting she knew perfectly well what she was doing to poor Tammin. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but I had to finalize a deal with a client. Now, what can I do for you?”

Tammin could think of many, many things Monica could do for and to her (and vice versa), but duty called. “We’re investigating the San Francisco Union Bank robbery…”

“Ah, yes. I’ve seen the news reports.”

“…and we have reason to believe one of the people involved may have a link to this company.”

Monica’s eyebrows rose. “THIS company? I find that difficult to believe. We have very stringent screening procedures, and we have some of the best salaries in the field…”

“Be that as it may,” Tammin interrupted, wishing that the desk wasn’t glass and that Monica Bellucci wasn’t wearing a dress of a shortness that women her age shouldn’t have been able to get away with (but which she certainly did), “we have to check all possibilities.”

“I suppose you have a job to do,” Monica sighed. “Curse these anti-smoking laws – a cigarette would be a help now.”

Lifelong non-smoker Tammin held her tongue.

“The only one of the robbers we’ve identified so far is a young safecracker called Emma Roberts,” the agent continued. “She was caught pulling an earlier job, and your company retained a very good and very expensive lawyer at Lycan Hollowman to get her off.  I’d be very interested to know why.”

“As would I. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Tammin studied Monica’s face and body language – if there was the slightest hint that she was lying, it wasn’t there. Perhaps this was a case of the left hand not knowing about the right hand…

“How long have you known your partner?”

Monica relaxed. “For close to six years now.”

Six years. Not long after the shootout with the Black Panty Gang.

“She and I worked for the same investment company in very low-level positions; we decided we might have better luck striking out on our own. It has been difficult, but it’s been worth it. She’s very sharp; I only wish she was here this morning.”

You and me both, thought Tammin. “Is she dealing with a client?”

“No; her partner Alicia is ill and Roselyn has to stay with her.”

“Miss Bellucci…” Tammin started gently.

“Oh, call me Monica,” she said airily.

“Monica, there’s something you need to know about Roselyn; she was in… some trouble before you two met.”

“She told me.”

Tammin would have lost the ability to stand up if she hadn’t been seated. Roselyn had TOLD her…?

“When she was younger, she stole some money from one of her employers; she also told me that she made restitution. I have no reason to believe she’s done anything worse.”

“Actually, she has done worse… she was the leader of a gang of bank robbers called the Black Panty Gang. Only two of the gang are still alive now, and we don’t know the whereabouts of one of them. Roselyn’s the other one.”

Monica stared at her, shaking her head.

“She disappeared six years ago, and until now we had no idea what had happened to her. It’s probably just as well that the gang never hit California…”

“There must be some mistake,” Monica protested.

“It would explain why her picture isn’t on your company’s website and yours is.”

“Can I be perfectly frank with you, Miss Sursok? Roselyn is a very good realtor, but she’s happier to allow me to be the face of the business.” Monica got up, sashayed over to the window and looked through it for a moment, knowing the agent was eyeing her and taking in her plentiful curves. “Also, she has… less of what sells than I do.”

Studying Monica’s legs and perfectly round rump, Tammin was getting the point. She swallowed as the gorgeous real estate agent turned around, headed back to the desk and sat down adding “Roselyn may have made some mistakes in her past, but that’s in the past.”

“I believe you didn’t know anything about it. But we have a former criminal linked to a deal involving a current criminal; if you can tell me where Roselyn lives, we’d be closer to….”

“Do you know for sure if she’s involved? All you can do is question her. Roselyn has done nothing since we began this agency except work hard…  before she left she closed deals for a family of five and a TV news reporter, and she was thorough with both of them.”

Tammin’s Spider-sense, had she had it, would have tingled. “Did you say a TV news reporter?”

“Yes. It was that young Italian blonde on Channel 7.” Monica let herself smile at that. “You should have seen our male employees when she came in…”

“Wait wait wait,” Tammin interrupted. “Italian? Was it Hayden Panettiere?”

“Indeed it was. She was here to arrange to buy a beachfront house; she’s always wanted to live by the sea.”

“Best place in the world for it,” Tammin said. “And Roselyn was the one who handled it?”

“Yes. They never actually met – one of the other agents met with her – but Roselyn insisted on locating the property herself. Hayden told us she was very satisfied with the business.”

Tammin was feeling a bit satisfied herself… so Hayden DID have some prior history with Roselyn. And they hadn’t exactly parted on bad terms. “Here’s my card, Miss Be- Monica. As soon as Roselyn returns, or if you have any more information for me, please get in touch with me and never mind what time it is.”

Monica reached over the table to accept it, enjoying Tammin’s eyes widening as she saw the inches of swelling Mediterranean melons. “I shall.”

“And… um… when this case is over…” the uncharacteristically flustered Fed started.

“You’d like to spend an evening with me,” Monica finished.

Tammin, wondering what the heck was up with her, nodded.

“You’re a very lovely young lady, Agent Sursok. Unfortunately, so is my wife.”

“Your… wife?”

“We were one of the lucky couples who got in before Proposition 8. Ariana cherishes every moment we have together, and she’s also very, very jealous.” Monica smiled again. “I made the mistake of admitting I find Scarlett Johansson sexy and she… is it ‘tore me a new one’?”

Tammin nodded, discreetly running her eyes down Monica Bellucci’s body as she thanked her for her time. Forbidden fruit in real life, but she knew who she was going to be thinking about tonight; Ariana was a very, very lucky girl as well as very, very jealous…

Jennifer saw the wistful/lustful look on Tammin’s face as she walked by. “Makes you melt inside, doesn’t she?” she said sympathetically. “I see that look a lot.”

“Does it help with sales?” the agent asked.

The blonde receptionist indicated the thriving surroundings and winked.

* * * * * * * * * *

“And you really think Bellucci had nothing to do with Roberts?” Jessica Biel asked.

“Definitely,” Tammin told her. “I don’t know about her partner’s ‘off sick’ excuse though. “

“Yeah, it’s a pretty convenient sickness. At least we know Sanchez and Little Miss Hayden have a link, so that’s something to build on… not a bad job, BJ.”

“Thanks, Miss Biel,” Tammin said, rising.

“That’s DIRECTOR Biel to you,” she replied with a chuckle as Agent Sursok went back to her cubicle. She had a report to type and things to think over (not Bellucci things, not mainly anyway).

She also had a phone to answer; it began ringing just as she got to her desk.

“Sursok,” Tammin said on answering.

“Agent Sursok, this is Andrea Datzman from Verizon’s records department; you made a request yesterday for information regarding calls received by Hayden Panettiere that morning… “

“That’s correct,” replied the young Fed, sitting and tapping her feet.

“We have the information here for you; you people must be very thorough to call for it twice.”

“That we are, and thank you for getting back to me.”

“At 8:35 she got a call from Lesley Panettiere lasting 5:22…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…and at 10:43 yesterday she received a call from a number we have registered to Ashley Benson.”

Tammin’s foot stopped. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Can you send me a file of those records?”

“Certainly; as soon as you give me your address they’ll be sent encrypted.”

“We could do with more like you around here,” Tammin said before she gave her address, thanked Miss Datzman and hung up. Returning to typing up her report on the meeting with Monica, the words didn’t stop flowing – but her mind was diverted in another direction.

Troian had told her colleagues Ashley had called Hayden; their own search had suggested it was Rhona Mitra; and now she was hearing it was Ashley. So either there was a screwup on Verizon’s end… or on this one. And even though she wasn’t the biggest fan of the big V, she wasn’t that convinced that they could get two reports on the same person wrong – especially when the reports differed about one number but were right about the other.

Tapping against her desk, she did a quick online search and dialled the number she was looking for.

“Hi, this is Tammin Sursok, FBI,” she said with a big grin (she never got over the buzz she got from saying that). “Can I speak to Troian Bellisario, please?… Uh-huh… Well, is there any way I can contact her? We have to get hold of her – it’s very important…”

Shit. She hadn’t shown up for work that morning. But as she hung up she had a feeling they’d have a very interesting conversation if they ever met.

Beverley Mitchell coughed behind her. Sighing and putting the search for Troian’s home number and address on the back burner, Tammin rose and headed for the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Chevy roared off the Golden Gate Bridge and entered Marin County, California, Megan Fox thrilling at the chance to roar along the Pacific Coast Highway once more. She’d only had the chance to run this famous road twice in her life, and this was only the northern bit of it, but it was still glorious to drive. They’d entered Marin County now, leaving the city behind, and were taking Shoreline Highway north, allowing Megan to enjoy testing her skills at the winding, two-lane road as it went through the Marin Hills. Handling the tight turns in a car that, while not exactly sporty, still had some power in its engine, was something Megan lived for.

Of course, things weren’t perfect. She had three passengers in the car, and that added a lot of weight to the car, even if none of them could weigh much over 100, maybe 110 pounds apiece. Little Lucy might not even weigh that, Megan mused, thinking back to the fun they had last night in the changing rooms. Still, Lucy had to stay tied up, her hands tied in front of her and attached to a loose rope that led to the back of the right seat, where she couldn’t bother the driver. Grace was sitting next to her in the back, ostensibly to keep an eye on the hostage, but had her nose in her cellphone, texting or IMing or web surfing or something. Lucy could probably slip out of her ties and clock Grace over the head with a tire iron before the computer geek noticed.

Blake wasn’t much help, either. She’d started off nervous as all get out; sitting next to Megan in the front, she’d thrown on the largest pair of sunglasses Megan had ever seen, and tried to stay down out of sight as they left San Fran. Now, however, she seemed to have relaxed too much, rolling down her window and sticking her long, shapely legs out the window, her short dress not fluttering about and giving Megan panty shots by sheer luck. Megan considered that fortunate, because she was having trouble keeping her eyes on the road just with Blake’s legs out there like that. If she could suddenly see Blake’s promised land, Megan could easily drive off one of these roads.

“Cops finally hit the hideout,” Grace said suddenly.

“Huh?” Megan asked over her shoulder, taking the Cavalier around a sharp left that nearly sent the car up onto two wheels.

“Do you HAVE to do that?” Blake asked, glaring at Megan over her giant sunglasses. “I’d like to feel like I’m not going to fly out the window every quarter mile.”

“Then keep your hands and FEET inside the ride, Blondie,” Megan said, her eyes traveling up Blake’s legs despite her best effort. “I don’t do slow.”

“So, how long until we get to Canada?” Blake asked, not moving her legs one bit.

“We won’t get there today, even with me driving. We oughta hit Grants Pass about bed time, then hop on 5 tomorrow and ride that sucker all the way to the Great White North. We’ll be seeing Beavers and friendly soccer moms by afternoon, tomorrow, so long as we don’t sleep in.”

“Fantastic. I should’ve brought a magazine or six,” Blake grumbled.

“You can always get out and try your hand at hitchhiking,” Megan muttered.

“With Blake‘s legs and tits?” Grace snorted. “She’ll get picked up in ten seconds flat.”

“I’d consider that a long wait. Last time I hitchhiked anywhere, first car I saw stopped for me, and I didn’t even have to blow the guy,” Blake bragged.

“Last time I hitchhiked, I ended up stealing the guy’s car AND his girlfriend,” Megan said. “She liked the leather look.”

“I’ve never hitchhiked,” Grace said.

“What about you, Teach?” Blake asked over her shoulder. “You ever stuck your sweet little thumb out and get picked up by someone?”

“No,” Lucy said quietly.

“C’mon, Pretty Little Lucy,” Blake said. “You’re with us for the long haul, you might as well be friendly. Be nice to have someone in the car to talk to who isn’t pussy obsessed.”

“I’m not pussy obsessed,” Megan said. “I swing both ways.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was there in that hotel room when you, me, and Jaime all got some relief,” Blake said, “But that didn’t stop you from taking our little hostage last night, did it?”

Megan didn’t say anything.

“Did you enjoy it?” Grace asked, looking at Lucy.

“W-what?” Lucy asked.

“The sex you had with Megan? Was it good.”

“Leave her alone, Grace.”

“I’m just curious,” Grace said. “I mean, I’m going to want to get some on this road trip, and with Blake unwilling to let me hump her all night long-”

“Never in a million years,” Blake grumbled.

“-that just leaves you or our hostage,” Grace said.

“I’ll do you if you want, Grace, but I’m kinda busy driving right now.”

“What do you say, Lucy?” Grace asked. “Did you enjoy Megan, or should I just cut my losses and have you right here in the back seat?”

“Grace, don’t tease the hostage,” Blake said over her shoulder.

“Aww, come on, Megan got to have her, and I’m bored.”

“How can you be bored with your phone and your laptop and all that crap?” Blake asked.

“Okay, I’m not bored, I’m horny, and Megan’s busy. So unless you want to come back her and tip my velvet-”

“Ewww, no!” Blake said. “I don’t even know what that means and I don’t want to do it.”

“Then I’m going to have a slice of our lingerie-clad hostage,” Grace said, reaching over and cupping one of Lucy’s lace and mesh-covered tits.

“Hey, Pretty Little Lucy – you okay with this?” Megan asked, glaring back through the rear-view mirror.”

“Uh, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Lucy said as Grace’s mouth fell upon her exposed cleavage.

“Grace, don’t hurt her!” Megan snapped.

“Oh come on!” Blake said. “You’re going to let her do the hostage right there in the back seat?!”

“You don’t like it? Get out and walk to Canada,” Megan snarled. “Grace! Did you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, don’t hurt the pretty little one. Will do. Any screams she makes will be screams of pleasure.”

Lucy’s hands and legs were still tied, so there wasn’t much the smallest girl in the car could do but sit there and take it. Not that she really minded – Grace’s hands and lips were going to all her most sensitive places, but were doing nothing but making Lucy feel wonderful in the process. Grace caressed Lucy’s breasts and crotch, and kissed her neck and cleavage, all while pressing her own body atop Lucy’s.

“Hey, keep outa the rearview mirror,” Megan warned.

“Sorry,” Grace said, her tone making it clear she didn’t care. Instead, she pulled the straps of Lucy’s teddy down until one of the young teacher’s succulent little nipples came into view. To the surprise of both Blake and Megan, Lucy actually moaned at the sensation of Grace’s lips upon her breast. “See?” Grace added. “She likes it.”

“I – uh, I-” Lucy stammered.

“Shush, hostage. Don’t talk, just moan,” Grace said, sucking Lucy’s nipple back into her mouth.

So for the next ten miles, the car was silent, save for the moans of the girls in back. Megan tried hard to keep her eyes on the road, but every now and then her gaze drifted to the rearview mirror, where she’d catch a particularly arousing sight – a topless Lucy Hale, a bottomless Grace Park. At one point she got an eyeful of the two French kissing, and another time she managed to spot Lucy using that experience to tongue Grace’s pussy.

“Megan? Going kinda fast, aren’t we?” Blake asked, breaking the spell the rearview mirror had on Megan’s mind. The driver pulled her attention back onto the road just in time to keep the Chevy from flying off the road on a nasty left curve.

“Oh! Oh fuck! Oh fuckfuckFUCK!” Grace called out.

“I think we could use some music,” Blake said, reaching for the radio.

“Harder!” Grace cried as Blake flipped the switch, bringing some much needed “Misery Business” from Paramore to the car’s interior.

“This work for you?” Blake asked.

“If it’s loud enough to drown them out, anything’ll work,” Megan said, fighting to keep her eyes from the rearview.

“OhFUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKK!!!” Hayley Williams and the rest managed to out-howl Grace, but not by much. Megan wondered how someone like Lucy could make the hacker scream like that -NO! She had to keep her mind on the road and away from the two ladies in the back. And from the leggy blonde next to her who was still letting her stems dangle out of the window. Asshole and lousy fuck though he may have been, she had never had these problems with Bago…

“Want me to drive until they’re done?” Blake suggested.

With a huge grin, Megan brought the car to a stop FAST.

* * * * * * * * *

“Hope you enjoyed the show,” Grace panted about fifteen minutes later.

“You sure did,” Megan replied, feeling a lot better. Blake was no Michael Schumacher behind the wheel – or Megan Fox – but she wasn’t a real slouch either. Also, Megan could have used a break from driving anyway, and seeing a glistening hostage and a steaming computer whiz with hardly anything on was a relaxant if ever there was one. And Lucy didn’t look particularly upset either; she would have had her arms around Grace if things had been different.

“Think you could get something bigger for the rest of the trip?” the blonde asked, her eyes gleaming as she saw something approaching them – it had been a quiet one so far; not much traffic, and what there was hadn’t been that inviting… but there it was. A bus.

“You’ll take whatever I can get, okay?” Megan told her as the bus came closer.

“You mean you’ll take what you can get, right?” Grace grinned, stroking Lucy’s chest. “Blake, I think Foxy needs to work something off with our friend here…”

“It’s my turn,” Blake interrupted.

Grace’s eyes lit up and Megan’s eyebrows raised.

“Not YOU. Hold on to this for a second, could you?” she told Megan, indicating the wheel before she levered herself out the window, hair blowing in the breeze as she faced the oncoming Greyhound.

Megan and Grace fixed their eyes on Blake’s dress-covered ass by the window frame before the brunette snapped herself out, reaching across for the wheel before the car lost control and glad that Blake hadn’t been wearing shorts.

“HEY GUYS!!!!” Blake shouted to the passengers, and lifted her shirt over her head. As the car passed the bus, all the people on the side facing the car instantly got a rise in spirits as they were treated to Blake’s excellent breasts, the blonde enjoying the wind rushing over her nipples. She was especially delighted to see several young boys looking as if they’d gotten a Christmas gift months early.

“DAMMIT!” Grace shouted in the car, realising what she was missing.

All too soon, the bus had passed. With a big smile and replacing the shirt, Blake put herself back inside the car and took back the wheel. “That was fun,” she smiled at Megan before looking in the back seat.

“Awww, did little Grace miss her chance?”

Grace let her eyes do the talking.

* * * * * * * * *

That wasn’t the only thing that miffed Grace about an hour later as she headed back to the car with the takeout she’d managed to get with some of the non-stolen cash they had; Megan may have drawn Lucy out of her closet… SHELL a little, but when Grace had suggested the hostage try putting those pouty lips on her back door Lucy’s eyes had gotten even bigger and her nose wrinkled as she squealed “NO! WAY!”

“C’mon, you might like it… I could do it to you first…” the hacker had suggested.

“No… it just seems gross. Even with guys.”

“Man ass, duh! But-“

“You do that to me and I’ll scream right here, right now,” Lucy had parried, checkmating Grace; there was no guarantee someone passing wouldn’t hear, notice and take down the car number. Of course, she could just wait until they settled down for the night somewhere remote, but rape just wasn’t her style – she was glad for Lucy’s (and the rest’s) sake they weren’t with Jaime. If she’d been a religious type, she’d have said a little prayer for that reporter…

Getting to the car, Grace was about to get in the front seat next to Blake before she saw Lucy sitting there, still tied up but used to it by now.

“Thanks a bunch,” Blake said, taking the bags. “Once I’ve eaten and fed the hostage we’re out of here…”

“Why’s she up here?” Grace asked, before she felt a light pinch on her ass.

“Act of charity, Gracie,” Megan explained, pulling her arm back through a window in the back.  “Friends don’t let friends drive without their asses getting eaten.”

“So Blake isn’t my friend?” Grace laughed.

Keeping her mouth diplomatically shut, Blake took out a box of popcorn chicken and started popping them into the teacher’s mouth while Grace eagerly got into the back seat.

“Thanks for dropping the ‘Nerd Girl’ thing,” she laughed, folding Megan into her arms as the designated driver pulled her shirt off, showing Grace her lovely chest. Thank goodness she hadn’t covered them with any tattoos. Yet.

“So when are we dumping this one, Megan?  We’re not taking her all the way to Canada… how’s she gonna get back home?” Blake asked, seeing Lucy’s eyes light up in gratitude as she kept up the feeding.

“Drop her off when we leave Sonoma County,” Megan panted between kisses. “Dinner time we get to a restaurant, leave this in a parking lot, get one of the cars there and keep going to the line and its nice knowing you and keep your mouth shut, teach…”

“I will,” Lucy mumbled through the food.

“You’re a teacher! Set an example for the kids, don’t talk with your mouth full…” Blake chuckled, starting to eat herself.

As did Grace, who had gotten Megan face down on the back seat. It was a little tight, but with some body manoeuvres that would have made a contortionist jealous, she had managed to get her face right where she wanted it; with Megan Fox’s round, taut ass in front of it. “Do me a favour and never get this marked up…” she whispered, pressing her thumbs into it.

“Wasn’t planning to…” Megan moaned, feeling Grace’s tongue slipping into the crack and the hole at the bottom of it, with her fingers stroking the driver’s thighs. The only trouble was that with Megan face down she couldn’t give Grace Park’s pussy, placed tantalisingly close to her head, a tongue-lashing. Still, ATM was ATM…

Their bodies occasionally hit the two front seats, but both Blake and Lucy ignored the sounds and motions behind them, concentrating on finishing their food; Lucy was thinking about who she’d ring the second they let her go, Blake was preparing herself for some time in the next few days – she’d be happy to get them a ride in exchange for helping a guy out. Besides, even if the guy had a one-inch dick it would at least BE a dick.

“Relax, Lucy; it’ll be over soon,” Blake assured her, putting Megan’s and Grace’s food on the floor as she started the car. If it was cold by the time they were ready, that was their problem.

* * * * * * * * *

The sun was pretty low in the sky and the car was pretty low on gas when Blake pulled into the parking lot of R&D’s Place. “See anything you like?” she asked Megan as the car stopped.

In the back seat Grace opened her mouth, and was silenced by the blonde rapidly whipping her head round to glare at her. Megan, meanwhile, gave the lot the onceover…  the pickings weren’t bad. Especially the Aygo parked a few spots away – there was a Land Cruiser as well but the Aygo was less conspicuous.  Megan eyed the Ford Focus close by as an alternate; if one was gone when they came out, it would have to be the other. If they were both gone… hey, cross that bridge.

“Pity we can’t leave her here,” Grace mused as she undid Lucy’s bonds. “You’re not gonna run, are you?”

“I’ll get her if she does,” Blake promised.

“With those legs, I’d bet on it,” Grace cracked.

Lucy didn’t say anything as she got out with the others and headed to the doors, because she knew they had a point. She also kept silent when they entered the restaurant, walking in casually as one, and everyone – customers and staff alike – turned to check them out. All of them. Even Lucy, who couldn’t keep from giving a little gasp at the reaction; she’d never gotten such a mass checking-out before. Even the female bartender was looking at them.

“What? You’re hot,” Megan assured Lucy under her breath as they strode to the nearest table.

“Damn, taken,” one man grumbled, spotting Grace’s hand lingering on Lucy’s ass as they passed. “The blonde might be free…”

“I won’t tell your wife if you don’t,” his friend laughed.

“Welcome to R&D’s, you lovely ladies,” said the waiter who arrived as soon as they seated, Blake looking around the place and nodding – so much better than the San Francisco dive. “You got here just before the rush, perfect timing… what can I do for you?”

“Anything you like, Chuck,” Blake cooed, spotting his nameplate. “Is the food as good as you look?”

“It’s better, ma’am, and thank you.”

“Call me Bridget. You go ahead and order, Lena,” she added, giving Lucy a gentle tap under the table to indicate she meant her.

“I’ll just have some salad,” Lucy said.

“Gone off meat too, huh?” Grace laughed. “I’ll have the grilled sole with fries.”

“Steak and roast potatoes,” Megan chipped in, rolling her eyes.

“Same here,” Blake said, as every man in the place got the innuendo and thanked their deity of choice.

* * * * * * * * *

“Miss?”

Perfect timing; if there was one area Blake Lively and Grace Park saw eye to eye on, it was that they hated being interrupted during meals. Swallowing the last of her fish, the hacker sat back and let out a tiny burp before glancing up and smiling – it was the place’s waitress.

“Hi, Jennifer,” Grace said, doing the nameplate thing. “Great food.”

“Pleased to be of service,” the dark-skinned young woman replied. “Chuck’s shift ended, so I’ll take care of the rest of your meal…”

“No, actually we should be going,” Megan replied, pretending she wasn’t checking out Jennifer’s body.

“I got this,” Blake said. “Do you take cards?”

“Cash only, I’m afraid.”

“It was worth a try…”

“Oh, by the way, is that blue-green Chevy out there yours?”

All four ladies started. “Yeah… why?” Megan asked.

“We’ve had a little trouble with vandals,” Jennifer explained. “People breaking into cars and so forth – I saw someone hanging around it a few moments ago…”

This was not good. And from where they were sitting they couldn’t see it outside. And to make matters worse, they’d have to leave in the same damn car – still, it wasn’t like they still couldn’t lose their ride somewhere else.

“Here you go, ma’am,” Blake said briskly, giving Jennifer the rest of her money. “Keep the change…”

“Why, thank you!” But Jennifer’s words fell on deaf and rapidly leaving ears.

“ALL of it?!?” Megan spluttered, glaring at Blake as they headed out as rapid-casual as they dared. “What are we going to do for the rest of the trip?”

“That might not be a problem,” Lucy told her.

“What the hell are you talking ab…”

Megan’s voice tailed off as she saw what Lucy meant. There was the Chevy, untouched by vandals but with someone hanging around it… four someones, in fact. Two for each of the police cars near it. And each one with a gun aimed right at them.

“I saw your picture, you blonde bitch!” the bartender shouted from behind them.

Said blonde bitch glanced back to glare at the bartender, standing in the doorway with the waitress.

“You were the only one they got something on from that big bank robbery – I *knew* I recognised you from somewhere… the cops told Jenny here to get you to come outside…”

“Told you; always had bad luck with women,” Blake whispered.

“Let the hostage go and raise your hands,” one of the cops… who were indeed all women… ordered them, and Lucy broke into a run towards the cops as if she hadn’t enjoyed being fucked by three of her captors. Which she would never admit she had, except in her dreams.

Reaching for the sky, Grace, Megan AND Blake moaned “Oh, crap.”

* * * * * * * * *

In between catching up on paperwork, keeping tabs on other cases and – sigh – making coffee and even going out for some donuts because Billings down the hall had run out, Tammin had almost gotten blisters on her feet from all the running around she was doing. The fact that her mind kept returning to R.M. Housing, and its gorgeous boss, didn’t help; the young agent persuaded herself that it was all professional, but her moistened panties kept telling her a different story. The beautiful receptionist wasn’t calming her down either, but maybe her e-mails would…

The phone went on, and as she answered Tammin shoved Monica Bellucci’s curves as far to the back of her mind as she could. “Sursok?”

“Hi! It’s Andrea Datzman from Verizon… you asked us for details on Ashley Benson and Troian Bellisario – covering the same period as Hayden Panettiere, I understand…”

“Shoot.”

“Troian used her phone to send two text messages to Hayden, one at 11:54AM and another at 7:38PM. No replies, and nothing from Hayden to her or anyone since then.”

“And Ashley Benson?”

“Well, this morning at 8:13AM she received a message from a number we have registered to Rhona Mitra.”

Tammin came very close to dropping the phone; there could have been an earthquake and she wouldn’t have felt more unsteady. “Did you say Rhona Mitra?”

“Yes.”

“And she’s only in Ashley Benson’s records? Not Hayden’s? Not Troian’s?”

“Not in either of them.”

Tammin’s head was swimming. There was no way they could know what any of the messages said, of course, so they could all just be shooting the breeze… but…

“The details have been sent to your address, Agent Sursok,” Miss Datzman continued. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“If this pans out, we’ll certainly be in touch again. Thank you VERY much…”

“Not at all. Bye.”

“Goodbye.” Tammin hung up, turning it over in her head before getting up to head to Jessica’s office. They were definitely starting to get somewhere…

* * * * * * * * * *

Olivia Wilde always got a little thrill out of telling people she worked for Global Financial Bank, even though a) it was a bank and not a huge multinational conglomerate, and b) she was in customer services. “Not THAT kind,” she had had to tell guys in bars on more than one occasion, wishing that they’d thought up another name.

The gorgeous black-haired woman with the piercing blue eyes had more prosaic matters on her plate this morning, as she bid a worried chequing customer goodbye and turned her mind to the next person. Though this one, a very pretty girl some years younger than her, looked less like she was climbing the walls than the other one, Olivia could still tell she had something to get off her chest.

“So, miss, what can we do for you at Global?” she asked cheerfully.

The young blonde gave Olivia a half-smile. “It’s kind of funny – not the kind of thing you’d expect to bring up…”

“We can clear it up whatever it is.”

“It’s my account,” the blonde continued. “I went to make a withdrawal last night because I had to pick up a few things, and…”

“And it was overdrawn?”

“Not at all. In fact, there was like…” The blonde looked around nervously before taking a balance slip out of her bag and handing it to Olivia. “That much.”

Olivia studied it and whistled. “Eight hundred thousand? How is that a problem, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I make a decent living, but I know I haven’t got that much saved up. My last balance was about… hang on, I’ve got a statement here…  just around $11000. Here, have a look.”

Olivia looked at it. “And you haven’t made any…”

“I know I’m a blonde but I’m not stupid!” she snapped, before recovering herself. “Sorry, sorry… I know you’re just trying to help. I just want to get MY money, no one else’s.”

Olivia nodded. “Well, I will have a look into this for you and as soon as we can get it cleared up we’ll let you know. In the meantime, stick with what you’ve got and thank you for letting us know.”

“I will,” said Jennifer Lawrence. “And thank you.”

* * * * * * * * *

Shay Mitchell was not a happy bunny.

First of all, it was her turn to drive and she was always a little nervous behind the wheel. Second, they had put a lot of distance between themselves and San Francisco but there was a long way to go before they hit the Nevada border; they’d made it to Contra Costa County, but it would be time for them to stop before long and either put some more gas in this thing or dump it. Third was the idea of going through Nevada; Shay’s family had had a rough time with some very nasty types in that state, and anyone spotted there was fair game.

Fourth, Ford Escorts didn’t have as much space as she’d hoped. And since JoAnna Garcia was the hostage, she got to lie down and stretch while Shay put the driver’s seat back as far as she could.

“You CAN go a little faster, you know,” Emma Roberts urged her.

“And get the eye of the cops?”

“You see any around here? C’mon, live a little…”

Shay had to admit it was pretty open and suburban where they were, but the whole point of cops and speedtraps was that they were hidden.

“If I speed it up, can you promise me something?”

“Anything for you, my sweet,” Emma cooed, batting her eyelashes.

“One, don’t do that again,” Shay laughed. “It’s embarrassing. Two, can we change direction before the border? It’s not safe for me in Nevada.”

“And where would it be safe for either of us?” the safecracker pointed out.

Shay let that sink in as the wagon kept going, the turf becoming more town-like and justifying her keeping the speed down.

“Um… guys?” JoAnna piped up. “I gotta go.”

“AGAIN?!?” Emma and Shay asked.

“But you just went an hour ago!” Emma added.

“I was very thirsty and I got the worst bladder on the West Coast, okay?” the redhead argued. “I promise I’m not gonna run off – just find somewhere…”

“We’re not stopping till it’s lunchtime,” Shay told her.

“Please…” JoAnna begged. “I don’t know how long I can hold it for. You want the money to smell like… you know?”

The two robbers glanced at each other; Shay pulled the wagon into a side street, where there were a couple of trashcans. “Can you make it fast?” she pleaded.

JoAnna indicated her bound legs, and Emma started to undo them.

* * * * * * * * *

“This is where I came in,” JoAnna said ruefully as Shay re-tied her bonds with Emma behind the wheel.

“It’s only until the state line,” the dusky criminal told her.

JoAnna nodded.  “At least I know you’re telling the truth this time… or are you telling the truth?”

“I lied to you before because I had to. Because Rhona wouldn’t make our lives worth living if we didn’t.”

“Who’s Rhona?”

“She’s the reason we’re in this in the first place,” Emma said bitterly, gritting her teeth as they came to a stop sign.  “She called us together and hung our asses out to dry.”

“She sounds like a… a…”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘bitch,’” Shay told her. “Your mouth won’t look any less sweet if the odd bad word comes out.”

JoAnna blushed and Shay smiled; she was getting on to something there. The hostage saw the look in Shay’s eyes and immediately got the right idea. It was that time in the bank all over again, and as the car started up this time she was in no position to push her away.

“Look… you’re a lovely girl, and I really would have gone down to the vault instead of you, but I was drunk that night in college…”

“Did you hate it that time?”

“I was young, I was out of it…”

“But did you hate it?”

JoAnna looked into Shay’s big brown eyes, and shook her head.

“Keep looking at me and tell me you haven’t once thought about me the way… the way I’ve thought about you. Tell me, and I’ll never bother you again.”

JoAnna opened her mouth to tell Shay, and paused. She let her eyes go down Shay’s long, beautiful body and back up again, and tried to tell herself that if her hands were free they’d be going for the door. She really did.

Instead she leaned in towards Shay and kissed her right on the lips, their tongues intertwining. Shay’s fingers went for the ropes again, undoing the ones around her hands quickly before she broke off and slid down JoAnna, rapidly removing the cords on her feet. Her hands moved up the teller’s legs, moving under her dress and gripping the panties.

“I am so glad you don’t have a cock this time…” JoAnna gasped as Shay pulled the panties down and lifted the teller’s dress up, exposing her beautiful legs and nice, trimmed box.

“Come again?” Shay asked.

“I’ll tell you later…” she groaned, shoving Shay’s head down.

“Hate to interrupt, but we’re out of gas,” Emma told them, thanking the heavens as she drove it into an alley. “Can you two hold off until I can get another…”

The sounds of JoAnna Garcia gasping and Shay Mitchell lapping away gave her her answer as she got out of the car. Having twice fucked Shay, she had a feeling they’d still be at it when she got back even if she took more time than they had… Emma reached under her shirt and unclasped her bra. She wasn’t comfortable stealing a car in broad daylight AND fully dressed, but if needs must. Plus her little boob-supporter (like she needed it with her perky upper set) was a tool for this job.

While Emma tore away at the fabric, Shay was tearing away at JoAnna’s clothes; they flew off her as her mouth munched and licked on the woman’s snatch. JoAnna’s pussy was soaking – Shay’s tongue could have stayed inside her forever, teasing her and doing her level best to turn her. Shay’s long fingers were soon roaming her colleague’s breasts; the redhead was on the verge of screaming from her friend’s touch.

“Donnnnnt….” JoAnna moaned as she felt Shay’s tongue move away from her snatch and her head move back up. Soon her friend’s lovely face was nestled on JoAnna’s breasts, suckling on each glass-cutter nipple; JoAnna’s hands, finally free, slid around and down the fake teller’s body, cupping a soft female ass for the first time since college. She stroked Shay’s round, smooth cheeks and kissed the top of the darker girl’s head, pressing a finger into Shay’s asshole.

With Shay’s larger breasts resting on JoAnna’s, the two kissed again, Shay rubbing her friend with her legs. “Shay… this is gonna sound weird, but… I really want to… to…”

“You want to eat my ass?” the girl replied knowingly.

“Jason keeps asking me to,” JoAnna said, in between kissing Shay’s tits, “but he’s too hairy and I never really wanted to anyway. But you… every time you walked away from me at work…”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Shay answered, and turned herself around.

JoAnna kissed the small of Shay’s back and traced her fingers along her thighs before she clutched Shay’s ass. She never came as close to coming on the spot as she did when she placed her tongue on Shay Mitchell’s sexy little back door; she dabbed it and kissed it and probed it, her fingers fondling as much of her lover as she could. Shay’s eyes were closed as she enjoyed JoAnna’s mouth working that ass as if it was her cunt; she was trying to keep from orgasming right there but it was hard… if this really was the first time JoAnna Garcia had done this (and there was no reason to believe it wasn’t), she was a natural. JoAnna’s tongue was excavating her, cleaning her so thoroughly that Shay almost wished they didn’t have to let her go – she almost made Emma seem as if she hated doing it.

Their lovely bodies moved together in the back of the wagon, neither of them aware of the two boys in the building on their side who had a perfect view of the show they were putting on, and who had forgotten all about “Transformer Prime.” But not about the strange feelings they were having.

* * * * * * * * *

Abandoning the destroyed bra, Emma held the wire as she scanned the road. It had to be one of the cars out here because the longer she left them back there the more dangerous it was. Also, she wasn’t from around here and getting lost would be a killer…

YES! An actual station wagon. It looked like it had a few years on it, but it would be enough for them to get into the next county. Plus there’d be room for Shay to bang that hot teller if she ever broke her down… and for Emma to bang that hot teller WHEN Shay broke her down. Miss Roberts hadn’t missed the looks between them, and she knew it was just a matter of time.

First things first – Emma put the freed end of the wire into the lock, and a few moments later she was inside. She wasn’t as fast as stealing cars as Megan, but she knew how to work mechanisms just as much as the tattooed lady did; within seconds she was heading down the street in the wagon.

What was that old song the woman who’d taken her cherry kept playing while they fucked? It really fit right now – “Hold on,” Emma started singing. “I’m coming…”

* * * * * * * * * *

So was Shay; her hands were on the headrests of the front seats as JoAnna’s mouth moved from the other lady’s back entrance to the front.

For the second time in her life, her tongue entered another woman’s pussy – and JoAnna’s own exploded. Shay had tasted sweet in her dream, but this… oh boy, it was like ambrosia or something. As nice as sucking cock was, this was on a whole ‘nother level (JoAnna fleetingly wondered if Jason had ever gobbled another guy…  then she decided to never ask him. He’d never asked her if she’d done a girl, after all). JoAnna flicked and tasted every part of Shay’s garden, wanting to suck the gorgeous button until the end of time.

With her hands fondling Shay’s rack, it was hard to tell who felt happiest; Shay, JoAnna, or the two boys lost in their free show. For one, it was a doorway to a whole new world; for the other, it was confirmation that he NEVER wanted to see anything like the maagzines he’d found in his big brother’s room. Naked girls > naked men any day.

The woman next door could also see JoAnna Garcia and Shay Mitchell in the throes of passion; and she wasn’t so happy. She had been shocked, in fact. Shocked enough to ring up the police and tell them that there were two women fucking (not in those words) right out there in public and to get them out of her sight…

And had Emma Roberts known that the man who owned the station wagon had seen her leaving, and been lucky enough to accost a patrol car very shortly afterwards, she wouldn’t have been happy either.

Especially as she arrived with the wagon at EXACTLY the same time the first cops did.

The boys would never forgive the policemen for ruining everything. Ever.

* * * * * * * * *

“Beverley? Come in here, please.”

Jessica sat back after buzzing Miss Mitchell and counted off “One… two… three….”

Right on cue, Beverley entered. Closing the door, she began to unbutton her top.

“Not now,” the director told her, sounding less regretful than she felt. “This is work related. Tammin Sursok…”

“Who?”

Jessica sighed. “BJ believes it might be worth bringing in Troian Bellisario again for some more questioning.  I’m sure Bell would love another shot at her.”

“I saw her, and I just bet she would.”

“Anyway, send word out to all the relevant places. The sooner she comes in the better.”

“Can’t BJ just call her up at work?”

“She hasn’t shown up there for two days, and none of her colleagues have heard from her. Her family can’t put in a missing persons report yet, but that doesn’t mean the power of the Feds can’t look into it. We’ve got a picture of her from our meeting on Tuesday,” Jessica added, handing Beverly a printout. “Get on it, and when you get anything let me and BJ know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beverley said shyly, and curtseyed before leaving.

Jessica sat back in her chair and tapped the table top. She wouldn’t have minded another shot at Troian herself – she most definitely did NOT have a flat ass.

* * * * * * * * *

Rhona Mitra always found it ironically amusing that while the big things went smoothly, the little things always hit a snag. The Union Bank robbery? All according to plan. Her deals with people in other countries? Right on target. But could she find a parking space in San Francisco when she needed it? No. Was her favourite newspaper out of stock? Indeed. And were her stockings running?

This was one of the few reasons Rhona was jealous of Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. As she buzzed the door of her Twin Peaks mansion using the code to let those inside know it was her, she reflected on Rosie’s legs – long, slim and seemingly never in need of shaving. And she never wore tights. In fact, the girl was reluctant to wear much of anything; Rhona had had to gently remind her of this on more than one occasion.

“RHONI!” the frilly-bra-and-panties-wearing English blonde squealed on opening the door to her mistress. Rhona hated being called that, but Rosie was the only person who she allowed to do that. And it could have been worse; at least she didn’t call her “Rice-A-Roni.” (Usually.) Being a stunning blonde with bee-stung lips and a taut, tight, sylph-like body who left erections in her wake everywhere she went but who was Rhona’s alone certainly helped, but as she flung her arms around Rhona’s neck and kissed her, Miss Mitra knew there was something else in her favour.

Rosie wasn’t terribly bright, and she was one of the biggest sluts Rhona had ever met –boys, girls, cars, you name it she’d fuck it – but she was also unswervingly loyal. As Rhona wrapped her arms around Rosie and carried her through to the living room, she knew from experience that Rosie would do anything you asked her to do. Anything. And she had the cuts on her to prove it (Rhona wondered if she was getting soft in her old age – some of them were so big that she had even had Rosie operated on to heal them).

“Hard day today, Rhoni?” the blonde asked, kissing Rhona’s neck.

“Nothing I can’t handle, my dear.”

“But the way you keep talking about that Mr. DiBonaventura – I don’t see how you can work with someone like him.”

Rosie had been right. He HAD been hard to work with, until Rhona saw to it that he wasn’t around to work with any longer; but even though there was no real Mr. DiBonaventura any more it was in Rhona’s best interests that Rosie still thought there was, and that Rhona worked for him downtown. It was a very boring job, Miss Mitra had assured her, and nothing Rosie would want to take away from her time watching “Winx Club.”

“In this job market you have to take what you can get,” Rhona told her (instead of “Well, you see, grownups have to work for a living”).

“Would you like to watch me shower?” Rosie asked eagerly.

Rhona wanted to very much, but with the pressures of the day on her mind she had to relieve them anoher way. With moves coming from years of practice she grasped Rosie’s bra and undies, and tore them both off her friend with one yank – the lovely young blonde stood naked before the fully dressed brunette, who made no move to undress herself.

“There is something I want you to do, however. When we’re done here I’ll explain it to you.”

“Is it playtime again?” Rosie giggled.

“Got it in one,” Rhona smiled. Rosie always called her work playtime because she loved it, all of it, and that suited the boss just fine as long as it was done. And thicker than the La Brea tar pits though she may have been in most other areas, when it came to playtime she always got what she had to do.

Running her fingers through Rosie’s long blonde hair before spreading them onto her heart-shaped ass, Rhona passionately kissed the girl whose playtime had killed eleven people and counting.

* * * * * * * * *

Kristen Bell prided herself on her swagger, her legs and her ass. But not enough that she didn’t give anything from a piercing look to a punch to any man (and she did mean MAN) who touched the latter without permission. That morning one of the interns had shown he was carrying bigger balls in his pants than his size suggested and patted her rump in passing; the guy with him, who’d tried it before and had never forgotten the withering look she’d given him, had looked as if he’d have dived under a table if there was room for one in the hallway.

But instead Kristen had just smiled at him and said “You get a pass today, kid,” finishing with a wink. She was in such a good mood that even guys taking liberties with her body couldn’t ruin it; word had gotten through to the FBI that three members of the Union Bank gang – an Asian babe, a girl with loads of tattoos and the hot leggy blonde – had been rounded up on Tuesday evening heading north with cash and hostage intact (said hostage, a cute little wide-eyed schoolteacher, had sung like a canary but had gone out of her way to let them know that none of them had hurt her. Especially the brunette driver, for some reason). All four of them were on their way back to the City by the Bay, and when the other robbers were nabbed it would be question time.

It was looking more like “when” than “if” because Director Biel had told her that yesterday two more of them – the foxy naked robber and the inside girl – had been found going east, and Kristen had to smile when she thought about the irony; the cutie who did all her jobs naked had gotten caught the first time she stole a car fully dressed. Their hostage, that redheaded teller, was intact but seemed pretty non-resentful of her captors… especially that phony teller called Shay Mitchell (part of the Mitchell family?). Kristen’s, and the interrogating officers in Contra Costa’s,  favourite part of this whole thing so far had been hearing how the woman had seen Shay and the teller actually fucking in the car – that was some SERIOUS Stockholm Syndrome going on.

The descriptions the hostages had given the cops and FBI representatives on site of the other robbers suggested they were either dealing with Roselyn Sanchez or her never-mentioned and non-existent twin. Plus they were definitely heading south, and best of all every single one of the robbers had made sure to mention they’d been employed (or left with their asses hanging out, as a particularly bitter Megan Fox had put it) by Rhona Mitra. If that link checked out, they definitely had something to tie into her.

If it didn’t, then they still had the robbers. Kristen Bell felt either way it was going to be a good day.

* * * * * * * * *

“BJ?”

Tammin Sursok glanced up from her screen, relieved to get a break from typing out a long, long report. Even if it *was* to talk to Beverley Mitchell.

“Shoot.”

“The director wants you,” said Beverley.

“What, not Jessica?” Tammin smiled. “Going through a rough patch?”

Even though it was common knowledge throughout the office that Jessica and Beverley were lovers, Miss Mitchell still let her eyes narrow a tiny little bit before heading back to work, letting Tammin head through to the inner sanctum and a cheerful looking director.

“Christmas is coming early around here, BJ,” Jessica announced.

“Yeah, the Union robbers getting caught; Kristen’s in such a good mood I hear she even let some intern touch her ass without punching him out. It’s like they’re just being given to us…”

“That, and a woman matching Troian Bellisario’s description was taken to San Francisco General Hospital on Tuesday night.”

Tammin swallowed. “Is she…?”

“No, thank goodness… looked like she’d taken on Kelly Kelly and the Bella Twins and lost, but she’s not in any great danger. Comatose but stable for the past couple of days – the doctors say she started showing signs of revival early this morning.”

“I’m on it,” Tammin said briskly.

“Funny thing though,” Jessica continued. “She was found not too far from where that sexy blonde reporter lives…”

“Well, she does live with Hayden Panettiere,” Tammin pointed out, “so –“

“Not her, the other one. Ashley Benson.”

“That IS a funny thing, isn’t it?” agreed Tammin as she walked out.

* * * * * * * * *

“SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT! Fucking Governator couldn’t fix the damn roads?”

Roselyn Sanchez and Hayden Panettiere didn’t like the potholes on the road any more than Jaime Pressly did behind the wheel of the Infiniti FX the blonde had heisted to replace the Nissan, but they really wished Jaime would shut up about it. And that she’d shut up, period.

They’d been rubbing each other the wrong way practically the second they left San Francisco – or rather, Jaime had rubbed the other two the wrong way and vice versa; Hayden had flat out refused to eat the burgers Roselyn had bought due to her being a vegetarian, which to be honest miffed Jaime more than Roselyn. Then Roselyn wanted to put on some Mexican music, which Jaime had tried to switch over to a C&W station; after they reluctantly agreed to take Hayden’s suggestion to listen to each station for an hour at a time, teeth were being gritted all day on a rotating basis. On Friday it was Roselyn’s turn on teeth-grinding duty as Jaime sent the car through San Luis Obispo – Tim McGraw was SO not her thing, even if he did have a smoking hot wife (who musically sucked as well, but at least she had something going for her with the sound off).

“Maybe Hayden should get a shot?” she suggested.

“Like hell! She bust into this trip, she don’t get a say! Got that, Fun Size?” Jaime cackled.

“What do you like listening to, anyway?” Roselyn asked. “Not country, I hope.”

“If I’m in the mood it’s okay,” Hayden said, lying down on the back seat. “Miranda Lambert is fun… and hot. But I really like soundtracks.”

“You mean like Celine Dion?”

“More like Trevor Rabin.”

“Holy shit! You like Yes too?” Jaime asked.

“Rabin does film scores now,” Hayden explained. ” I got a lot of stuff like that – him, John Debney, Christophe Beck, Randy Newman, David Newman, James Newton Howard, Mark Isham, Wendy and Lisa…”

“Do you have ‘The Bodyguard’? “ Roselyn asked. “I LOVE that one.”

Hayden made a gagging sound as Jaime, surprised to find herself mentally agreeing with Bridget the Midget for once, brought the car to a stop near a pretty dumpy motel. It didn’t look like the classiest place ever, but it also looked like the kind of place where few if any questions would be asked – and therefore ideal for them to spend the night.  And they could get a rest from the bumps.

If not from Hayden carrying the money. Again.

* * * * * * * * * *

“ ‘…hugs and kisses, Ashley Benson.’ There you go,” Ashley said warmly as she signed the escorting agent’s sheet and handed it to the young man. Professionals though they were (supposed to) be in the FBI, he wasn’t the only one there to have blown smoke up her nicely-shaped ass the second she arrived. Best lunch break since the last time Victoria Justice visited; there wasn’t a person there, male or female, who wished that secretary hadn’t had to quit.

“Honestly, you should just do the news by yourself,” the lovestruck guy said, and almost squealed with joy when the reporter hugged him and gave him a kiss.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughed as the man knocked on the office door.

“Show her in!”

Ashley gave the man one last smile and didn’t miss his eyes lingering on her legs as she went in. She also didn’t miss Kristen Bell’s eyes lasering in on said stems, and mentally groaned – another freaking rug-muncher.

“Ashley Benson! Channel 7’s finest… “ the agent said, shaking Ashley’s hand. “To what do we owe this honour?”

“Well… I was a little nervous about coming in,” the reporter admitted, looking a little worried. “But with what’s happened over the past few days, I couldn’t keep quiet.”

“About what?”

“About Hayden.”

Kristen went from being all eyes to all ears. “Go on.”

“She isn’t as sweet as she looks on TV…  that’s how I got this.” She showed Kristen her right hand; the gash she had gotten from the fracas at her place had been sewn up, and the stitches were still there. Kristen’s eyes widened and she winced.

“Little firecracker, is she?”

“She said it’d be worse if I spilled… but someone like her…”

“Spilled about what?”

Ashley looked nervous, as if someone was going to come out and tell her Hayden was listening. Then she set her face resolutely and faced Kristen.

“About the Torcoletti’s job.”

Fireworks of her own went off inside Kristen Bell’s head; those diamonds and some other gems had gone missing from that high-class place two years ago and had never been recovered – to this day she was convinced that the fallout from the robbery had cost her the promotion that went to that fucker Efron. And now Ashley was telling her someone they wanted to talk to about another robbery might have been involved…

“Go on,” she said.

“At the Christmas party last year I saw her flirting with her camerawoman… she had this opal brooch on her top. I swear that was at Torcoletti’s and it was way out of her price range.”

“How do you know?”

“I make a LOT more than she does.”

“Did it have some gold trim around the edges?”

“Yeah…”

Even though Ashley was wearing a top that gave viewers a sneak preview of her breasts, it was all about the information when Kristen leaned forward. “Tell me more,” the agent said, smelling blood.

* * * * * * * * *

Roselyn was thankful that it was only going to be a few more days until the border; as soon as they let the reporter go and they were in Mexico she could finally dump Jaime. She knew the longer she was away the more suspicious Monica would get, but there was nothing she could do about that.

What she was really worried about was Alicia – calling her was something else that would have to wait until they were out of the country. She had nothing but sympathy for Hayden; someone else who couldn’t talk to the woman she loved.

Jaime was lucky; all she had to do was loudly scream at the contestants on “Jeopardy!” from her chair and hog the remote control. “IT’S ‘WHO’S TEDDY ROOSEVELT,’ JIZZSTAIN!!! Where’d they get these people anyway, someone let the spazzes out?”

“When this is over, think we could put it on another channel?” Hayden suggested from the floor.

“Listen, hobbit, you’re watching whatever the fuck *I* want to, got it? I got the remote, that gives me the power.”

Alex Trebek changed, all of a sudden, to Kevin James and Leah Remini – Roselyn had picked up the remote from next to Jaime and changed it.

“Now *I* have the power,” she smiled, clutching it tightly.

“You always gotta be in charge, don’t you? Can’t I watch what I want?”

“It’s always got to be you, isn’t it?” Roselyn replied as Jaime went for it. “Here, catch!”

She threw it down to Hayden, who was still tied up but was able to drop her body down onto it before Jaime could run to the remote, and pressed down hard. In any case, with two free hands Roselyn now had a tighter grip on the pissed-off Jaime.

“LET. GO.”

“What are you going to do, huh? It’s long past time someone taught you who’s the boss.”

“On this job? Fucking Rhona’s the boss!”

“No, *I’M* the boss, cracker!”

“You did NOT just call me that!”

“You had it coming, Saline Tits.”

Both women turned to look at Hayden – Roselyn with delight, Jaime with venom.

“I’ll deal with you later, Halfpint. I got someone who needs a lesson right here…”

Jaime tackled Roselyn, and the two robbers tumbled off the bed, tearing and kicking at each other as Hayden watched. Screw “The King Of Queens,” this was more fun…

Fabric was ripped and words were spat as the hatred that had been between the two ever since the job started came to the surface. As far as Roselyn was concerned, getting the now half-naked Jaime pinned to the floor was the highlight of the job so far.

As they fought and wrestled their way around the room – a feat in itself considering there was a bed and a bound hostage in there – the two career criminals exchanged cheap shots and dirty blows, neither girl quite gaining the upper hand. The moment that Jaime thought she had the advantage and moved to slam Roselyn’s head into the wall, Hayden reached out with her bound legs, and tripped the blonde beserker. Jaime’s arms flailed about as she fell, catching on the strap of her own bag, sending the contents spilling across the floor, sex toys and all.

Roselyn forcefully shoved Jamie onto the bed, but the shove wasn’t enough to keep the southern blonde down. Roselyn jumped on Jaime almost instantly, but the blonde kicked her off with a suprising amount of force. Roselyn slammed against the wall and Jaime sprang to her feet, heading toward the fallen Latina.

“I am so gonna get you, bitch!” Jamie spat as she stalked toward her foe. Before she could reach back to kick Roselyn she slipped on one of the many sex toys sprawled on the floor and fell on her ass, her head going back and making a resounding SMACK on the floor.

Roselyn quickly grabbed Jaime and the dildo she slipped on, and threw her on the bed. As the blonde tried to get up on her knees, Roselyn slipped in behind her and shoved the fake, plastic rod deep into her unprotected slit.

“You deserve this, wackjob!” came Roselyn’s voice as she pumped harder and harder against the struggling blonde. Jamie was thrashing, clawing and kicking, but Roselyn had her hand firmly on the back of her neck making escape virtually impossible.

“You are so going to get it, you Spanish whore!” Jamie shouted as Roselyn thrust harder into her colleague’s ass, the comment clearly infuriating her.

“I’m – Puerto – RICAN!” the leader of the gang spat with each shove.

“Ain’t it… all the SAME?!?” Jaime yelled louder. She had a high pain threshold for sure, but even *she* didn’t like having things jammed up her ass without any lube, and Roselyn didn’t seem that bothered about having “forgotten” to put some on. With each thrust, the blonde was getting closer to creaming all over the carpet – the only mercy was that she couldn’t see the very satisfied look on Hayden’s face.

“Want this out?!?” Roselyn shouted.

“Huh?” Jaime asked in between gasps – as burning up as her asshole was, she had to imagine this Mexican spitfire knew how to wield it; plus if she had to have one of those other skanks on top of her it might as well be the boss.

“You want this OUT of you?”

“I want it up YOU, that’s what I want, wetback!”

“Sure…” Roselyn panted. “As soon as you suck it off.”

“WHAT?!?” Jaime spat. “I ain’t licking something up my own ass – SICKO!”

Hayden had to chuckle, and Roselyn let herself smile. Finally something she didn’t like doing…

“Too bad…” Roselyn got to see Jaime’s enhanced but still very, very nice body jiggling underneath her, trying hard to fight back and her ass thrashing about like a fish on dry land as the blonde finally gave in to Miss Sanchez’s grinding, spitting curses and threats as she orgasmed on the sheets. The screams seemed to go on forever, and Roselyn seemed to be pumping for slightly longer, but at last Jaime’s yells subsided.

Roselyn pulled it out and slowly ran it up the blonde’s back, patting Jaime’s cheeks. Not as nice as Blake’s or their hostage, but a nice ride. Resting the tip of the dildo on the blonde’s mouth and her free hand on her head, she pushed it inside. “Suck it, papita,” she whispered.

Scratch what she said earlier – the highpoint of this whole thing was seeing the exhausted and angry blonde actually closing her lips around the dildo and giving it a taste. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked to Roselyn as if Jaime was actually liking it a bit… should’ve known Jaime Pressly secretly liked the idea of eating her own ass.

“Since you like quoting films, here’s one from ‘Robocop’…”

Roselyn  pulled the dildo away from Jaime’s mouth and sent her to sleep with a lovely right cross.

“…’Okay, that’s enough.’ “

The gangleader then glanced at the bound Hayden. Just as her colleague hadn’t been satisfied with Lucy earlier, so the leader of the gang was ready for seconds; she could see from the look in the hostage’s eyes that she was about ready for some fun as well.

“You know, you could do with some time with someone who doesn’t have a history with you…” Hayden suggested teasingly.

“You have a girlfriend,” Roselyn pointed out.

“So do you,” the reporter replied. “That didn’t stop you just then.”

“Good point,” Roselyn conceded, eyeing the reporter’s small, juicy body.

Roselyn started towards Hayden to undo her bonds. Then she started towards the floor, helped by the sudden blow that landed on the back of her head; she landed a couple of feet away from the startled Hayden, who looked at the out-cold brunette and then up at Jaime, wielding the gun she’d hit her comrade with.

“Never could hit worth a damn, that one… remember I said I got three more bullets? Still got ‘em,” she growled. “You’re lucky I hate your guts or I’d make it slow…”

Hayden glanced towards the window; it was close, but Jaime was closer and even if she hadn’t been tied up there was no way she’d get to it in time. The reporter closed her eyes and waited, preparing for whatever was to come.

“Open your eyes, shorty,” Jaime hissed. “I want you to see what’s coming.”

“I’m going out on my own terms, Saline Tits,” Hayden said far more calmly than even she had imagined.

Had a canister of tear gas not come smashing through the window at that very moment, those would have been her last words; Jaime’s instincts for survival instantly overrode her desire to kill the hostage as she looked towards the window, and then made for the door. Coughing, Hayden started to crawl towards the starting-to-revive Roselyn, not wanting to leave her here no matter what.

The masked cops bursting into the room shortly afterwards took all decisions out of their hands, disarming the furious Jaime and carrying all three outside to their transport.

“….ooohhh….” Roselyn moaned. “Wait… what’s going on…?”

Jaime wanted to know herself; she KNEW no one had seen her switch cars and they’d only used cash of the unstolen variety, and no names (no real ones). So how the hell had they tracked them down?

“My knights in shining armour,” Hayden smiled at Roselyn, before sneering at Jaime and facing the cops with her. “Thanks—“

“Drop the act, miss,” the police officer told her. “You’re under arrest too.”

Jaime’s eyes became saucers, Roselyn immediately shot to awareness, and Hayden suddenly felt like she was in a nightmare as all three women, on the same page for once, shouted “What the FUCK?!”

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hi, sir,” Tammin said to the man in reception at San Francisco General Hospital.

“Afternoon; what can I do for you?”

“Which ward is Troian Bellisario on?”

“I’m afraid visiting hours are—“

“This can’t wait,” she interrupted, showing him her FBI identity.

“Oh.”

She never got tired of how people’s demeanour changed when the badge came out.

The ride up to the fifth floor was delayed by people getting on and off on EVERY SINGLE FLOOR; Tammin’s foot almost tapped through the metal before it was her stop.  Keeping as calm as possible, she headed to the receiving nurse on that floor.

“Excuse me, ma’am – can you tell me which room Troian Bellisario’s in?”

“Miss, first of all visiting hours are—“

Again with the badge. “FBI Agent Tammin Sursok.”

The nurse nodded. “Even with that badge it wouldn’t do much good.”

“But I understand Troian’s awake – we really need to talk to her.”

“So would HER FAMILY,” she said a bit testily. “They’ll have to wait until she comes out of her coma as well… she slipped back about an hour ago. Sorry you and your partner had a wasted journey…”

Tammin, already resigned to waiting, started. “My *what?*”

“Your partner. She got here just before you did and wanted to know where she was – don’t you Feds keep in touch with each other? No wonder crime’s so high…”

“Wait wait wait… can you describe my ‘partner’?”

“Blonde, round-faced…”

It was a good thing she was in a hospital, because Tammin was suddenly feeling a little sick. “Kind of wide in the forehead, about yea high?” she continued, indicating the 5’2” mark.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“Where’d she go?”

* * * * * * * * *

Tammin waited in the cubicle of the woman’s bathroom for the occupant to finish, glancing at her watch. The flushing finally came, accompanied by the door opening and the woman heading out – stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Tammin standing there.

“This is the first time I’m glad it takes years for you to piss, Beverley Mitchell.”

Beverley had actually been doing the other thing, but she was too busy staring at the agent to care. “Are you stalking me or something?” the secretary asked.

“Please – I have standards. And how come you’re here anyway? You’d have told Biel if you had a family emergency… why were you asking about Troian Bellisario?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything, BJ,” she said snootily and started to push by her.

Tammin grabbed her arm. Hard.

“BJ, if you don’t let me go right now I’m-“

“Listen, slut,” Tammin hissed. “I don’t care how many times you’ve been fucking the boss and I don’t care what you told the guy in reception, you are a damn SECRETARY and you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Okay…” Beverley gulped as her free hand dipped into her coat pocket. “I’ll tell you. It’s…”

Beverley was pausing as if she was looking for words, and Tammin kept her eyes on her. All over her. Including on her right hand, which she saw out of the corner of her eye coming out of the pocket with something in it.

Tammin rapidly grabbed Beverley’s other hand as the secretary started to struggle – a few grunts later the agent slammed the hand onto the closed cubicle door, the hand holding a hypodermic needle, and hit it twice more to make Beverley let it go with a wail. But she still held on, fighting back and trying to force Tammin away.

“This was for Troian?!” Tammin spat as Beverley clawed at her throat. “Who the fuck ARE you?!”

“Air bubbles and blood don’t mix,” the secretary sneered. “I thought I wouldn’t need it ‘cause she’s still out cold, but now…”

Beverley dragged back Tammin’s head and the sudden jerk caused the agent to involuntarily let go; immediately Beverley went for her with the needle. The two went down, with Beverley on top and bringing it down towards Tammin’s neck; the agent clutched Beverley’s hand just as the tip brushed her skin, and smashed both on the tiles – Beverley’s hand wasn’t broken, but the syringe was.

“Destroying evidence? Call yourself a Fed?” Beverley smirked as she slapped Tammin, before Miss Sursok’s fist hit her in the mouth.  She slipped back from the impact, as the enraged agent threw her off.

“I’m taking you IN—“ She fell back as Beverley kicked her in the stomach, leaving her down long enough for the secretary to get to her feet and run out, heading for the elevator. There were doctors and technicians through the corridor, all startled by Beverley running amongst them as she spotted the elevator doors opening.

“STOP HER!”

Crap on a crutch, Tammin was closer than she thought! Spotting the door to the stairway that went to the street, the secretary hurtled through it and thanked the fates for gravity (and for no one being able to take Tammin’s advice and STOP HER!). If/when word got through to the boss about this, it might be the last break she’d get for a long, long time. That kept her going as she ran onto the fourth floor. And the third.

And then a whole load of warm female agentry fell onto her from behind, causing them to tumble onto the second floor level. Beverley scratched and kicked Tammin, screaming “LET ME GO, YOU JUMPED-UP TEACHER’S PET!”

Tammin’s fingers were digging into her hard enough to draw blood, but that wasn’t what she wanted to do. Pressing down on Beverley and squashing her face onto the steps, Tammin grabbed the woman’s pants and dragged them down, exposing her silk undies. “You never got this when you were a kid, were you?”

“If that’s what you want, all you had to do was ask; we could have worked it out, huh BJ…” Beverley’s grumble turned into a scream as Tammin, ripping off her panties and revealing a fair amount of nicely-shaped rump through the tear, brought down a hand on her hard. This was not sexually intended at all.

“You’ve had this coming since day one, little suckup!” Tammin slapped Beverley’s ass again and again, wishing that her fingernails hadn’t been cut – driving a long one into the Mitchell butthole would really get the point across. Every slap stung, and every stinging made Beverley struggle more. As she wriggled under the agent, the pounding became even more forceful.

“Too damn bad you’re so pretty,” the agent said grimly. “I could almost like this. And I would LOVE for you to go crying to Biel about this…”

Knowing that there was no way she could go crying to Biel about this without a lot of questions she couldn’t answer, Beverley stopped struggling as Tammin gave her deeply reddened ass one last, hard crack.

“You are a dead woman, BJ,” the secretary muttered. “You don’t know who you’re playing with.”

“My name is Tammin Pamela Sursok, and I know who I’m playing with,” Tammin replied as she got to her feet and took Beverley by an arm. “Someone who is never, EVER going to call me BJ again if she wants to breathe without help. And someone who is going to make her own fucking coffee from now on.”

* * * * * * * * *

“What happened to you?” Smythe asked on seeing Tammin when she returned to base.

“We got us a snake in the grass,” she told him. “She’s down in holding; I’ve got something to tell Biel she won’t want to hear.”

“Believe me, if it’s like what’s been happening here she definitely won’t want to hear it.”

“What do you mean?”

Smythe looked as if someone had stolen the Kate Upton pictures he had by his desk and replaced them with Snooki as a joke (again). “While you were out the systems got hit by some virus. Tech can’t understand it – the firewalls usually keep stuff that’s only just been developed out, that’s how updated ours are…”

“You’re kidding!”

“Yeah, Biel would be upset enough to fuck ME if her computer had been messed up… turned out hers is okay. So are most of the others – the damage seems to be mostly in where you are, BJ. Fingers crossed nothing bad’s… BJ?”

Tammin raced towards her cubicle, praying that what her mind was telling her was wrong as she logged in and checked her files.

“DAMMIT!”  Whatever had gotten onto the system had wiped out some of her music files, a few emails…

…and the information from Verizon.  Both the files in the emails and the copies she had made for her files on the investigation. Gone.  Tammin eyed the screen in disbelief, willing herself not to shout more.

Of course, even the most secure systems in the world could be broken into, and there was no way she could prove what she was thinking, but it was funny how they had been fine when she… and Beverley… had been here. Getting up to see her boss, she wondered how Jessica would react on hearing that Beverley Mitchell was cheating on all of them.

A couple of knocks on the door later, the director said “Yes?”

“Um… I found out something that I think you should know,” Tammin started as she came in. “It’s about—“

“Beverley, I know,” Jessica interrupted.

“I already told her when she took me from holding,” Beverley Mitchell explained, standing next to her boss and looking at her with what passed for pity. “We could have sorted it out…”

“Someone as promising as you lashing out against an underling… I have to admit it’s disappointing,” Jessica continued as Tammin tried to sort out what was happening. NOW she was a damn underling?

“I know you might feel a little underused here, but everybody has to go through the chrysalis stage… however, I also know these disputes can happen from time to time – petty jealousies and so on.  Beverley’s pleaded with me on your behalf, she hasn’t been seriously hurt, and I know you’re a talented operative, so I’ve agreed to give you a second chance. You are suspended from duty for a month, effective immediately. With pay, of course.”

Tammin heard everything, but didn’t believe it. Was she in some kind of alternate universe or something? Was Beverley Mitchell that good at giving head? All she could do was nod.

“I’ll show her out,” the secretary said cheerily.

Even though Tammin told her she could find her own way, Beverley still accompanied the young agent out of the office, all the way to the exit.

“Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. Forgive and forget, right?”

“Maybe….” Tammin said slowly, still in a daze as she headed out. She couldn’t believe that little teacher’s pet had managed to spin it so that SHE was the good guy.

As Tammin stepped through the gate, Beverley rapidly shoved a hand up the back of her skirt, moving under the panties and grabbing plenty of the agent’s ass. The shocked and angry Tammin threw her a furious glare as she squeezed, made worse by the smirk on the secretary’s face as she pulled it out.

“I OWN that now, bitch,” she sneered. “See you in a month… BJ.”

* * * * * * * * *

Troian Bellisario should have been thanking the deities. She’d come out of her coma, and she was at home – she would still need a few more weeks recovery time but she was going to be fine. And her mother was visiting, vowing not to leave until her baby was in full working order.

The trouble was, she and her mother were watching Channel 7 News, as they had been doing every day for a week. And today was the day Mrs. Bellisario had been waiting for; she had a beatific smile on her face as the reports got under way.

“Oh, that George Blaine… I like him. He’s so trustworthy,” she sighed. “Not like that little tart Ashley Benson.”

“Mm-hmm,” Troian agreed, not looking forward to what was coming next.

“In our top story tonight,” Ashley started, “the eight women accused of carrying out last month’s robbery of the San Francisco Union Bank have been found guilty on all counts. In addition to the theft of over eight million dollars, the gang… which included former Channel 7 reporter Hayden Panettiere…” – Troian did not miss the little smirk Ashley allowed herself on the word “former”- “have been convicted on charges of destruction of property, the murder of customer Frank Sheene, six counts of vehicular manslaughter, five counts of car theft and the kidnapping of teacher Lucy Hale and bank teller JoAnna Garcia.”

“Also,“ George continued, “the individual members of the gang have each been tied to various other crimes unrelated to the robbery; Panettiere is scheduled to be tried separately for the Torcoletti’s robbery, in part due to the efforts of our own Ashley Benson, who identified the items found in her colleague’s desk as being part of the stolen jewels, in particular a gold-trimmed opal brooch.”

“Lying little slut,” Troian hissed.

“I never did like her,” her mother agreed. “You’re better off without her.”

“I was talking about Ashley Benson,” the bedridden brunette muttered.

“She and her partners will be sentenced next week,” George continued, “and prosecutors are expected to demand the maximum sentence, given the crimes and the backgrounds of all concerned, of life imprisonment.”

“Can you change the station, please?” Troian asked as the screen showed images of each member of the groups the press was dubbing The San Francisco Eight. Her mother obliged as a mugshot of Blake came up, flicking it over to a rerun of “Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Perfect timing – some sites have pictures of them all asking ‘Which One Of These Would You Do?’ I hear that leggy blonde and the driver are the faves…  it’s Foxy Knoxy all over again. At least there was only one of her… time I started making dinner anyway.” She patted her daughter as she got up. “You’ll find someone else. Someone who isn’t a thief and a liar.”

As she headed to the kitchen, Troian ignored the TV set and turned onto her side. She had already found someone who wasn’t a thief or a liar, and now Hayden was going to go to prison for something she didn’t even DO. Digging her fingers into her palms, Troian shook her head.

“I’m getting you out, baby girl,” Troian whispered, her eyes starting to dampen. “Come hell or high water, I’m getting you out.”

* * * * * * * * *

JoAnna Garcia was so glad to be at home; back in the arms of Jason, and away from those monsters.

And by monsters she meant the press – as soon as the cops had brought her back to San Francisco they’d been wanting to know if she’d been hurt, if it was true they were all lesbians and so on (JoAnna flatly refused to talk to any of them, saying she just wanted to leave it behind her, and Jason – bless him – had personally told the jackals outside their place that he’d give them an exclusive through their ears if they ever bothered her again).

“You could take some time off, you know,” he told her, stroking her hair. “You don’t have to go straight back to work like this…”

“I want to get back to normal,” she replied. “It’s the best way to deal with this. For me, I mean… I don’t know about Lucy.”

“Well, different strokes…  JoAnna, did they…  try anything? I know one of them was hot for that teacher they took with you, but did they…?”

“No,” she said truthfully. “Not a thing.”

“Good,” he said, kissing her shoulders. “I’d have hunted them down if they had, I swear.”

Jason’s lips moved from her shoulders to her chest, heading down her body as JoAnna relaxed; he rarely went first, and it was always a bonus when he did. But from the moment the tip of his tongue touched her slit, she found herself imagining it belonged to a tall, beautiful sloe-eyed young woman with coffee-coloured skin and curves to die for… as Jason licked and probed, JoAnna tried to push Shay Mitchell out of her mind.

Sometimes she succeeded. Briefly.

* * * * * * * * *

“So I hear you’re off to Mexico?” Brandon asked Lucy.

“Yeah,” she smiled as the two walked down the street; it was the weekend, Golden Gate Elementary was over and done with until Monday, and now they were off to have a drink. “Booked the ticket last night, heading off at the end of the month. A whole fortnight without worrying about the Montgomery girls…”

“They’ll be Jaime Sommers’ job, poor kid.”

“Ah, she loves it…”

Brandon was distracted by two good-looking women heading in the opposite direction; he instinctively turned to look at them before he remembered he was with company, and winced as he faced Lucy. “Oh crap, I’m sorry…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lucy laughed, patting his arm. “It’s not like I don’t look at hot guys – no harm, no…”

Lucy, still touching Brandon’s arm, suddenly gripped it tighter; her eyes widened, her body was shaking, and her breath was coming in short spurts as if she was choking.

“Lucy? What’s happening? You okay? What’s wrong?”

“Get… get me away from here…” the trembling teacher gasped, her eyes locked on the store the two women had just left.

Brandon looked around as he led Lucy up the street; he didn’t see anything untoward, but he knew that people who’d gone through a trauma like hers could be set off by anything – she put on a brave face, but someone as basically fragile as her was walking on eggs here. “C’mon, we can drink at my place…” he told her reassuringly.

Catching her breath, Lucy clung to him as they headed away from the Victoria’s Secret.

* * * * * * * * * *

The room was silent, except for Rosie Huntington-Whiteley’s bee-stung lips kissing the area just above Rhona Mitra’s carpet, prior to moving through it and tasting her box. Most women would have been completely distracted by the girl’s tongue action; Rhona Mitra wasn’t most women.

Neither was Reiko Aylesworth, who had Isabel Lucas bent over on the desk in front of her; the blonde was a company woman even when she was being done doggy-style. The cries as Reiko pumped her pussy were loud enough to indicate she was enjoying it, but not loud enough to get in the way of the conversation.

“I heard they all claimed you were pulling the strings,” Reiko said into the earpiece she had on as she rubbed Isabel’s butt while thrusting. “I wish I could have seen their faces when none of them could prove anything.”

“Rosie was there; she told me,” Rhona replied into the cellphone she was holding. Eventually she might do stuff to Rosie, if she felt like it. “How is Miss Bellucci handling it?”

“She’s shocked. Her and that hot receptionist she has…”

“I’ve seen Miss Lawrence. I look forward to consoling her someday, whether she wants it or not.”

“Bellucci will be even more upset when it’s all over, I bet,” Reiko laughed.

“Upset and very, very poor, like many people,” Rhona chuckled. ”It’s almost a pity those women have to spend the rest of their lives in prison…”

“Except your girl on the inside.”

“Yes, my friends in the system will see it to that she gets her sentence… commuted for good behaviour, shall we say? Or at the very least transferred to a lighter facility. It’s the least I can do after leaving those tracers with her partners.”

“Even though you only really needed one. Suppose the others find out?”

“They won’t. And just in case they do, I’ve already arranged a little surprise for them; Shay Mitchell is going to have a little reunion in prison.”

“The Vegas Kennedys?” Reiko asked as Isabel thrashed about under her. Why did Australian girls have such sweet asses? She made a note to go Down Under on a research tour next vacation.

“The Vegas Kennedys. My friends in the system have had one of them transferred; the Kennedys have far more friends behind bars than the Mitchells, and anyone associated with the Mitchells is fair game. I think their life sentences may be far shorter than the courts believed.”

Rhona allowed herself a little moan as Rosie’s tongue found her sweet spot. It was a small break in concentration, but she’d earned it after the job she’d done for her. Playtime – Rosie Huntington-Whiteley variety – was over, but playtime (the fun kind) was about to begin as Rhona hung up.

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