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Deborah Tanner had been fucking her way up the

broadcasting hierarchy for years. She was a senior writer

for a top news show. She had high hopes of moving in

front of the camera as a reporter and eventually as anchor.

She had the right look and she had the talent. She just

hadn't had the opportunity. To that end she had been

spending her free evenings screwing a number of well

placed executives at both her own station and at the

competition.

On this particular night she was screwing one of each. It

seemed like a good career move. She had arranged a

clandestine meeting with both for the same time at her

apartment. The lights were low, there was a fire going, the

smell of scented candles hung in the air, the background

music was soft and romantic. There was an awkward

moment for the two big wigs when the second showed up,

just as the first was settling down with his drink. Deborah

was delighted. She handed a drink to the newcomer and

excused herself for a few minutes. She said she had

something very important to tell them and promised to be

right back. They knew each other professionally, so it

wasn't long before they were talking shop.

Then Deborah made her grand entrance. She came in

wearing red heels, a white necklace, black panties, and little

else. The little else was an almost transparent veil-like

sleeping jacket which hung to her knees and wasn't

buttoned down the front. Both men jumped up as she

approached them. One of them spilled his drink.

Deborah eyed them with a certain malicious pleasure and

said, "Gentleman, I think it's time we clarify something

which neither of you seems to understand or believe." And

noting their hesitancy and embarrassment, she added,

"Look, I've slept with each of you more than once, so calm

down and pay attention."

The men glanced briefly at each other and then looked

back at her. She had them fixated like birds under the

watchful gaze of a snake.

Deborah had moved to the middle of the room. The two

men were standing a few steps away. "Come here," she said

holding out one hand to each. They didn't move. "Aw,

you're not afraid of me are you? Two big strong men like

you. Come on over here I have something soft and quiet

which I want to tell you. And I promise I wont bite."

They came. First one and then the other. Slowly and

uncertainly, but they came. They were standing side-by-side

in front of her. She took one hand from each. "Now,

gentlemen. We've had a lot of fun together haven't we?

Neither said anything. She lifted one hand and kissed it,

"Haven't we Fred?"

"Well, yes. I guess so."

She lifted and kissed the other hand. "Haven't we

Richard?"

"What is all this getting to?"

"Aw, come on. Humor me. Haven't we had fun,

Richard."

"All right, yes, we have."

"But you both think that I'm just a nice piece of ass.

You know I'm a good writer, but neither of you takes my

broadcasting ambitions seriously." She was right and both

men looked a little guilty. "You've discussed it with me in

bed. You've hinted at possibilities. But neither of you was

very serious." She didn't ask them to confirm it. She didn't

have to.

"Now Fred," she said looking at him. "You don't think

I'd leave for another station, even if they offered me a spot

in front of the camera, do you?" Fred didn't say anything.

She took his hand and moved it under the invisible veil. She

pressed it, palm down against her breast. He felt the

warmth of her skin, the tightness of her nipple against his

palm. "If you thought I were serious, you might really look

for a way to find me a newscasting position, wouldn't you?"

Fred was looking down at his hand. "Wouldn't you?" she

repeated.

"Yeah, I might . . . think about it."

"And you, Richard," she said, turning to the other man.

"You don't like to look foolish, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"And you're afraid that I'm only trying to use an offer

from your station as leverage for a front line job at my

own." She pressed his hand to her other breast. "Aren't

you?"

Richard took a breath and swallowed, "The thought has

crossed my mind."

She released their hands and moved her own down to

rest on their hips. Neither man removed his hand from the

breast he was holding. "And now that we are sure that we

understand each other, and what the two of you are really

thinking . . . Fred," she reached down as she said his name

and grasped his erect prick through his pants. "Richard,"

she grasped the other prick with her other hand. "Now that

we really understand each other, . . ." she was gently

squeezing and kneading each prick as she spoke. The hands

on her breasts seemed frozen.

"Richard," she looked into his eyes, unzipped his fly, and

reached in. He was wearing boxer shorts. "If you can find

me a newscasting spot," she reached through the slit in the

cloth and grasped his dick, "I can assure you, that I'll accept

it in a red hot minute." She wrapped her hand around his

shaft and used her fingers to rub his balls. "I will not leave

you hanging. Do you understand that?"

His voice was husky, "Yes, I do."

"And do you believe me?" She could feel his heat

through her hand. His hand had started gently massaging

her tit.

"Yes. You've got me convinced."

Deborah smiled at him and turned to the other man,

whose mouth had dropped open at the performance he had

just seen. "Fred," she started on his zipper, "you heard what

I just told Richard, didn't you?"

He nodded his head and said, "Uh-huh."

She smiled into his face as she reached into this pants

and found jockey shorts. "And you believe me, don't you?"

She pulled her hand back out and started undoing his

belt.

"uh-huh."

"And you know, the only way you're going to keep me is

if you find your own spot for me as a newscaster, don't

you?" Fred's pants fell open. Deborah reached in past the

waistband of his jockey shorts and grabbed his Johnson.

He sucked in his breath and said, "Uh-huh."

"Now I'm not trying to fool either of you. Whoever

comes . . ." she squeezed their dicks " . . . through first.

That's the offer I'm going to take." By now, both hands

were working at her breasts and bumping into each other.

"And if they come through at the same time . . ." She

reached up and took their hands again. Holding them up in

front of her face, side-by-side, palms toward her, she licked

her tongue across both. "If they come through at the same

time, well then I'll just have to see who's bigger."

She dropped down to her knees. The two men stood

there dumbly. She pulled Fred's underwear and pants

completely down around his ankles. Taking his erect penis

in both hands, she fondled it as she talked, "And when I say

bigger, I'm not talking about money, necessarily. In fact,"

she leaned forward, took his dick in her mouth, licked and

sucked on it for a few moments. Then, leaning back, she

finished, "I'm not even talking about penis size." She turned

to Richard and starting undoing his pants. "When I say

bigger, what I am talking about is the size of the news spot

you're willing to offer." She dropped his pants and

underwear down the his ankles and then repeated the oral

performance on him. Then grasping one prick with each

hand and pointing them both at her face she said, "If you can

get to me first Fred," she gave his shaft one long luxurious

suck, "then you can have me. And if you can get to me

first Richard," she sucked his shaft, "then I'm yours. And if

you both get to me at the same time, . . ." she pulled the two

men closer and stuck both pricks into her mouth at once.

After a long while of licking and sucking and fondling both

sets of testicles with her hands, she backed up and said, "If

you both get to me at the same time," she started slowly

pumping both dicks with her hands, then we'll see who

really wants me more."

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She looked up at Fred. His face was flushed, he was

breathing heavily. "Is that clear, Fred?"

"uh-huh"

She looked over at Richard. He too was breathing

heavily, and looked to be in only slightly more control. "Is

that clear to you too, Richard."

"Oh yes."

Deborah released their peckers. "Now I know it takes

time to arrange a thing like this, so I don't expect an

immediate answer." She lay back down on the floor. "But

in the mean time, why don't you two, big strong tv
executives come show me how much you want me."

They did.

Two hours later, all three were still going at it.

Deborah was face down on the bed. Fred was lying on

his back and she was between his legs, sucking him off for

the second time that evening. Her feet were on the floor

and Richard was standing behind her with his prick buried in

her ass. He had already come once in her mouth and once

in her pussy. He was working hard to try for three.

The phone rang.

"Fuck it," they all thought at the same time.

* * * * *

Two hours later Deborah Tanner was washing down

aspirin with a glass of wine. She was in her kitchen wearing

a Japanese Kimono. She had a slight headache and her jaw

was a little sore, otherwise, the evening had been quite

successful. Fred had long since departed for his wife and

children in the suburbs. He had slunk out with a troubled

smile and a lame excuse. Richard had called his own wife
with an even lamer excuse about having to stay in the city

overnight. Deborah glanced into her bedroom and saw his

hairy form curled up in a pile of bedding on the floor. She

started to smile and the stiffness in her jaw made her wince.

She popped another pill and remembered the phone

message.

Making her way into the second bedroom which she had

converted to an office, she quietly closed the door and

checked her answering machine. It was from a distant

cousin, Derrick. She hadn't heard from him in years and

years. And the last she'd heard about him was that he was

somehow involved with the mob. If true, it didn't surprise

her. He had been called 'Derrick the Dung' by other

children as they were growing up. He was large, and

strong, and crude, and brutal. And he seemed to take an

absolute delight in hurting people.

So why was he calling? The message said something

about having a super hot story for her. There was a

heartfelt request for secrecy. And a phone number where

she could reach him, but only if she called at exactly

midnight. Otherwise he would try her again some other

time. He obviously knew all about her career. A little

surprising perhaps. She was hardly a well known public

figure--Yet! So how had he tracked her down. And why

was he interested in giving her a story? Did he expect to

get paid? Probably.

Her first instinct was to ignore him. The last thing she

wanted was to get involved with Derrick the Dung. But

then again, what if he really did have a big story. If he was

involved with the mob it just might be the big career boost

she was looking for. It would be nice to have a hot

exclusive to toss into the pot if she had to negotiate with

one or the other station. The clock on her desk said 11:37.

She gently tapped her teeth with the rim of the wine glass

and thought about it. She thought about it for quite a while.

When the clock said 11:59 she drained the last of the wine,

put down the glass, picked up the phone.

* * * * *

They met two days later at an obscure hour in an even

more obscure chinese restaurant. They had the place

almost entirely to themselves. They sat in a corner booth

and Derrick quietly told Debbie about the South American

slave auction. He described what he had seen. He said he'd

recognized one of the girls on the auction block as a coed
who had vanished almost half a year before. He

remembered her picture from a newspaper story. He

finished and there was a long silence while Deborah

considered his words.

She looked over at him, "OK, assuming what you've told

me is true . . ."

"It is."

"Assuming it's true, what do you expect me to do about

it?"

He grinned at her. He knew she was hooked. "I can

find out where and when the next auction is going to be. I

know how you can sneak in."

"And what do you want in return?

"Money, of course. Lots and lots of money." He was

studying her eyes. "But you don't have to pay until after

you've got your story." She was nodding slightly. "And

when it's time to pay, you'll do it my way. I don't want to

get my head blown off." He waited for her to ask some

more questions, but she said nothing for a long while.

Finally he broke the silence by asking, "Is it a deal?"

"How much money?" she asked.

"Just a good sized chunk of the pile you're going to

make."

She nodded again. "OK, tell me more."

Derrick leaned forward and started giving her the details

of his plan.

* * * * *

A week later Deborah was still thinking about her

meeting with Derrick. The more she thought about his

story, the more it fell together. It explained a number of

troubling disappearances. And his plan seemed sound

enough as well. Assuming his story was straight and he

knew what he was talking about. There was always that

element of uncertainty. And the risks were high. But the

rewards were even higher. She could certainly use this

story to demand a spot in front of the camera. And if she

couldn't get it from either Fred or Richard. . . .

But the first thing she needed was a partner. She needed

a smart, young, tough, sexy partner. The plan called for her

to show up at a slave auction masquerading as an owner

with a slave to sell. According to Derrick, she didn't have

to actually sell unless she got the price she was after. And

owners were always turning down offers, waiting for the

next auction where they thought they could do better.

There had been a dozen slaves who didn't sell at the auction

he had seen. She could show up with her 'slave,' watch the

whole thing from ring-side, and then leave with her partner

as the corroborating witness.

Deborah spent the next afternoon considering every

likely contact she knew and rejecting them all. 'Too old.

Too weak. Too ugly. Too fat. Too old, ugly, weak, and

fat!' She regretfully concluded that she didn't know a single

individual who would fit the bill. She briefly considered

recruiting someone to pose as the seller and she, herself,

would play the part of the slave. She slipped out of her

clothes and examined herself in front of the mirror. Pretty

face. Nice breasts. Hips a bit wide. Hardly fat, but not in

top physical shape either. All-n-all, not bad for a woman

pushing 36. But she concluded, based on the information

Derrick had provided, that she was just a little too old and

out of shape to pull it off. She grinned at her reflection and

thought, 'but I'll make one hell of an owner!'

She got an invitation to lecture on news writing at one of

the big media schools. She was about to politely turn it

down. Then she thought about young, eager, and hopefully

sexy, graduate students. She changed her mind, called back

and accepted.