Around The World in 80 Babes: Chapter 47 – Lost in LA
Celeb: Roselyn Sanchez
Warning: The following is a work of fiction and is
meant to be taken that way. If you can’t understand
that, please stop reading here. Also, if you’re
underaged for your legal area, stop here, as well.
Everyone else: Enjoy!
Around the World in 80 Babes
2005 CSSA Award Winner for Best M/F Series
Chapter 47: Lost in L.A.
October 3rd, 2005
Los Angeles, California
“I love sex in limos.”
To Richard Stall, that was music to his ears. Considering it was coming from a already turned on Roselyn Sanchez, it was even better. Add to that the fact that Roselyn was mounting Stall’s cock while the two were riding in a limo, it was down right fantastic.
Of course, there had to be one problem with all this. Life just didn’t work in a way where Stall got everything he wanted without some issues.
“No good, boss,” Tom Lambert’s voice filtered into Stall’s ear. “That damn skirt is covering everything.”
Were Roselyn’s lips not on his, Stall would’ve sighed. He had on more than one hidden camera – he always did these days – but the cameras couldn’t see through clothing. Roselyn had started this all by slipping the tiny black thong she’d worn underneath her flowing skirt to the floor and then undoing Stall’s pants. Aside from Stall’s cock and balls, both of them were still completely covered.
Stall tried to compensate by reaching up to open up the simple blouse Roselyn was wearing, but instead, she grabbed his suit jacket and yanked it halfway down his arms, pinning them in place, as the rest of his jacket was now trapped between his back and the limo seat. He couldn’t reach anything but Roselyn’s knees now!
“Boss, the camera in your watch is covered now! We’re only getting the pendant camera!”
“Christ,” Stall muttered.
“Hush,” Roselyn said, kissing his neck as her fingers started working over his shirt buttons. As more of Stall’s chest became visible, she ran her hand over his bare skin.
“Not to add to your problems, boss, but now we’re only getting half her chest – which, I’ll point out, is still covered completely.”
“You’re not helping,” Stall muttered.
“I’m not helping?” Roselyn asked. She giggled once, then reached down while standing up. With a deft move of her hands, she took Stall’s almost painfully erect shaft and ducked it under the skirt before guiding it into her moist, waiting pussy. Stall gasped as Roselyn took him in one powerful slide, engulfing his cock completely before she sat back down. All of this took all of about two seconds, and none of it made it on camera.
Roselyn shifted a little, sending a jolt through Stall’s cock. “Is that better?” she asked, squeezing her vaginal walls in a way that massaged Stall’s manhood perfectly. Stall tried again to move his arms, but they wouldn’t budge any more.
“Mmm,” Roselyn said, kissing Stall again. “This is nice. My own little plaything.”
“Can I have a second to free my hands?” Stall asked.
Roselyn sent another shockwave through her cunt. “Absolutely not. I like you where you are.”
“I’m very good with my hands,” Stall said, trying to sound like he wasn’t pleading.
“And I’m very good with my pussy,” Roselyn said, squeezing Stall’s cock expertly.
That was it. Stall couldn’t take it any more. With all his strength, he stood up as much as he could, his arms slipping from his coat enough to get free.
“There you go, boss!” Lambert’s voice came through the ear piece. “Now we’ve got her on camera again!”
Stall didn’t waste any time. He yanked up Roselyn’s skirt, exposing her glorious pussy, and managed to find the buttons at the same time. A little quick finger work, and Roselyn was naked from the waist down.
“Mmmm,” she moaned. “I like aggressive men.”
“I’m not done yet,” Stall said. His hands found her blouse, and with one nasty pull, he ripped the shirt open, scattering a few buttons around the place, and exposing the tiny, white, lacy bra Roselyn had been wearing. Tiny was the operative word, as Roselyn’s massive globes were barely held within.
And blessedly, it had a front clasp.
One quick finger flick later, and Roselyn Sanchez breasts were swinging free.
“Fuck me, Richard,” Roselyn moaned as Stall flipped the two of them around so that he was on top. His hands found those fantastic breasts of hers, and he squeezed them as he slid his cock back inside her hungry pussy.
“Oh, GAWD, yes!” Roselyn moaned as Stall started to slide in and out. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she savored the sensations.
Stall decided to have a little fun. He leaned down and took one of her nipples into his mouth eagerly, rolling it with his tongue. The Spanish beauty moaned even more, and she started to write against Stall.
“Fuck me, Papi! Fuck me!” Roselyn cried. Oddly, Stall found himself wondering if the driver could hear her screams. Then he stopped worrying about it.
It was time to really get to work. He let go of her nipple and started really thrusting into her. Hard. As much as he liked sex in limos, too, he was ready to get off.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!” Roselyn was gasping as Stall slammed harder and harder into her.
“Boss, just to give you the heads up, your limo’s going to be arriving at the restaurant in about six minutes,” Lambert’s voice came through Stall’s ear.
That was it. Time to put this one away.
Stall reached down and started to finger Roselyn’s clit while still fucking. His remaining hand came down on one of her tits, massaging the glorious, caramel flesh between his fingers.
“OH, FUCK, YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!” Roselyn screamed as her orgasm over took her body, sending her writhing in pleasure. Stall lasted about three seconds longer before he, too, came in a flash of climax, shooting his load deep within Roselyn.
“Oh, god, that was amazing,” Roselyn said as Stall regained his breath.
“Thanks,” Stall muttered.
“Driver,” Roselyn said. The screen between the forward part of the limo came down, making Stall scramble for his pants.
“Yes, Miss Sanchez.”
“Pull over please. Mr. Stall will be getting out here.”
“I will?” Stall said, zipping up his fly.
“Yes, you will,” Roselyn said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You were fantastic, Mr. Stall. I would happily do you again. Just, not tonight. I have a date.”
“Date?” Stall said. But the limo had pulled over, and the door was opening. Stall shrugged, grabbed his coat, and got out of the car. He noticed Roselyn hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet.
“Hurry, please, Driver,” Roselyn said. “We must not keep Mr. Z waiting.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Driver said. Closing the door.
The limo drove off a few moments later, and Stall found himself standing on a sidewalk, not quite sure what had just happened.
“Boss?” Lambert’s voice came in through his ear.
“Want us to send a cab?”
“Please,” Stall said, sighing.
* * *
October 4th, 2005
Hollywood Royale Hotel,
Los Angeles, California
“How is it that we’ve been in Hollywood – Mecca of Celebrity Beauties, for ten days, and only scored one video at this point?” Stall asked as he sit on the couch in his suite.
“We aren’t running into them,” Thomas Lambert pointed out. “L.A. is a huge place – there’s a lot of people here. There may be a lot of celebs, but law of averages doesn’t work in our favor.”
“Besides,” Michael Burke added, “It’s not like we can walk down Rodeo Drive and walk up to any celeb we met there, hit them with the chemical, and move right on to fucking them.”
“Why not?” Chelsea Smythe asked. “I mean, we’ve done just that before. Maybe not right on the street, but we’ve certainly approached women and done them almost instantly before.”
“It’s a coverage issue here,” Lambert said. “Here in L.A., the celebs are on camera CONSTANTLY. We can’t escape the press any more than they can. We got lucky with Roselyn, because we met her in a secluded place – this hotel – and were able to get her while she was out of sight – namely, in her limo. We got lucky. We may not get that lucky again.”
“And time is still an issue,” Stall said. “While we’re probably safer here in the States than we were in Europe or Africa, or even Asia, those killers came after us in both England and in Australia. If they’ll attack us there, they’ll try again here.”
“They already did in New York and Miami,” Burke pointed out.
“Exactly,” Stall said. “We need a way to get more celebs, and quickly. We’ve only got, what, Fourteen to go?”
“Fourteen,” Lambert confirmed. “And, technically, we could grab them all anywhere in the world – we’ve already hit all six continents. That part of the bet is covered.”
Stall shook his head. “Hard to believe we’re so close. And it’s only October.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re done yet, Boss,” Burke said.
“You’re right, of course,” Stall said. “Lambert, tell me you have some diabolical plan to place cameras in women’s bedrooms to catch them having sex without us having to so much as walk out the door.”
“No go, Boss,” Lambert sighed. “My Los Angeles crew hasn’t been able to find an opening yet. Plus, half the stars in this town never settle down in one place for very long.”
“This isn’t what I wanted to hear,” Stall said.
“Couldn’t we hit some parties? That always works,” Burke suggested
“I might be able to hack us into a few guest lists, but it’ll take time,” Lambert said,
“You need to concentrate on setting up some kind of system like we had in Sydney – Inspector Stone, at least, will be after us, and it won’t take her long to figure out we’re in LA,” Stall said.
“I agree with that,” Smythe said. “Tchelet and I are not going to be able to hold these people off forever. We need more layers of security – either that, or to stop traveling around and allow us to defend you in a proper location.”
“Indeed,” Stall said. “I’ve got some of my lawyers back in London looking into finding me a new place to live there, but even after we find a place, it’ll take time to fortify,” Stall said.
“Let us know when you get one,” Smythe said. “I have some contacts of my own in London that can get started before we leave the States.”
“None of this helps our current situation,” Stall said.
“What can we do, boss?” Burke asked. “We’re kinda running out of options.”
Stall pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. “We are too close to give up now! Fourteen! Fourteen more women, and I’ve won! The end is in sight!”
“We need a place where famous women go that’s out of sight of the press, but will still let us in,” Lambert said. “Some place where the women could be found alone, or in already sexual situations. Some place like a Spa, or something.”
“It worked in India,” Stall said, considering. “Marissa was able to pose as a masseuse and got into Aishwarya Rai’s pants pretty easily.”
“But how long could she keep that cover up?” Smythe asked. “She molests one star, it’s going to get out here in LA. Cameras are everywhere.”
“Bloody hell,” Stall said. “There must be one place where celebs can go to have sex where cameras won’t catch them!”
“And it needs to be a place we can get our own cameras in,” Lambert pointed out.
“Minor detail, that,” Burke said sarcastically.
“There must be SOMEPLACE we can go,” Stall said.
“Actually,” Marissa Call spoke up. She’d been pretty quiet since they’d left Australia. Killing a man generally did that to a person, especially if it was the first time you had to do it.
“Marissa?” Stall asked, surprised. He’d almost forgotten she was in the room.
“I think I know a place we can try.”
“Really?” Lambert said. “What is it, a massage parlor? A hotel?”
“No,” Marissa said.
“Well, what is it?” Lambert asked.
Marissa took a deep breath. “It’s the whorehouse where I used to work.”
* * *
October 4th, 2005
Los Angeles Office of the Central Intelligence Agency,
Los Angeles, California
Agnes Stone hated asking for favors. She hated asking them of Americans even more.
And Field Director Cartwheel of the CIA was pretty damn American.
“I fail to see the relevancy, Inspector Stone,” Cartwheel said. Several months ago, he’d been the CIA liaison to Scotland Yard in London. He’d brought to the attention of Scotland Yard the first American traces of the strange broadcast signals that Stone now knew were directly related to Richard Stall. At the time, they’d been out of New York City, then Miami. Sure enough, Stone had caught up with Stall in Miami, and then nearly gotten herself killed.
At the time Cartwheel had brought the information to Scotland Yard’s attention, he’d been grudgingly willing to let Stone stay on the case, even as it entered American jurisdiction. Now that he’d received a promotion to Field Director of one of the CIA’s largest departments, he’d become considerably more insufferable.
“The relevancy, Director Cartwheel,” Stone said, trying to remain calm, “Is that Inspector Coach and myself are the two people with the most experience with these signals. We do not currently believe they have any direct connection to terrorism, but rather a possible criminal activity, the type of which we are not yet certain. Possibly blackmail of high profile civilians, possibly even less than that.”
“Doesn’t matter, Inspector Stone,” Cartwheel said. “It’s on American soil. It’s our problem now. We can handle it.”
“You’re completely ignoring the fact that we’ve been on this case for months,” Coach spoke up.
“Ask me if I care, Inspector Coach,” Cartwheel replied. “I’ve got my own people working on this. IF those signals show up, we’ll track them, whoever’s sending them, and put an end to all of this. The CIA will not let terrorist operate on American Soil.”
“Yes, that’s certainly never happened before,” Stone muttered.
“What exactly are you implying, Inspector?” Cartwheel asked, suddenly leaning forward.
“I’m not implying anything,” Stone said. “I take it there’s not a chance you’d be willing to help us with our investigation then?”
“Not a chance,” Cartwheel said, coldly.
“Very well, then,” Stone said, standing up.
“Inspector Stone,” Cartwheel said as the two Brits prepared to leave.
“I don’t appreciate rogue actions in my territory,” Cartwheel said. “If I find out you’re getting in the way of my people, I’ll have you both thrown out of the country so fast, your passports will have skidmarks on them.”
“We’ll try and keep that in mind,” Stone said, frostily.
“Good. Now, please leave – I have actual work to do.”
* * *
“Of all the nerve,” Stone muttered as she and Coach walked out of the building.
“American hospitality for you,” Coach added, glancing back towards the rather unspectacular building. “What’s our next stop?”
“We should check in with the MI-6 office here in LA, in case they have anything,” Stone said. “Plus, perhaps we can get you set up with some computer time.”
“That’d be nice, but the Americans would know pretty quick if I was scanning for those frequencies,” Coach pointed out.
“Then we’ll have to put you on something else,” Stone said.
“What?” Coach asked.
“Tracking Stall’s financial records, for starters. We know he’s involved in this now, for sure. We know he was heading here for LA. If we can find him before the CIA does, we can still be the ones to bring this all in.”
“Cartwheel won’t like us doing that on his home turf,” Coach pointed out.
“All the more reason to do it,” Stone said.
“Agreed,” Coach replied, smiling.
* * *
Cartwheel watched them leave the building from his office window. This wasn’t good. Cartwheel hadn’t been the head of the Los Angeles CIA office long. He was still cementing his position here politically. The last thing he needed right now was some Scotland Yard yahoos coming in and ruining his reputation before he’d had a chance to even create it.
Something had to be done. He reached for his intercom.
“Miss Henshaw, send in Agents Cole and Temple.”
“Right away, Director Cartwheel.”
A few minutes passed. Cartwheel spent the time bringing up the information on Inspector Stone, and this Richard Stall she was looking for.
Stall was an interesting case. He’d been involved in the UN Ambassador kidnapings in South Africa earlier in the year, and his home in London had burned down with several bodies inside of it just a few months ago. Stall had been on the lamb, so to speak, ever since, making appearances in Japan, India, and Australia. All sites that the mysterious broadcasts had been sent from.
Was there a chance that Stone was on to something? Or did this Stall just have a really poor sense of timing?
Cartwheel had certainly heard of stranger things in his days.
The door opened, and two men walked in. Agents Cole and Temple. Two of the most non-descriptive men Cartwheel had ever seen. Literally, they could blend into a crowd in a heartbeat. Cartwheel really could only remember who they were by their hair color. Cole had black hair, Temple brown.
“Gentlemen, I have a task for you.”
“Director?” Temple asked carefully.
“This office needs to boost it’s stature in the Agency. We have a possibility to do so, but currently have an obstacle in our way.” Cartwheel turned over the files on Stone and Coach. “These two Scotland Yard officers are currently tracking a London native here in L.A. They believe he is somehow involved in a new style of Terrorist Communications. I am not so sure.”
“You want us to find this potential terrorist before they do?” Cole asked.
“No, actually, though if you happen across him, that would help quite a bit. No, we need to make sure Scotland Yard suffers some embarrassment, first. I want you two to track these Brits, and keep an eye on them. Any kind of incident they get into, I want footage of it. Call in our media contacts, if you have to. If we can keep them from doing their jobs, when we do it for them, we’ll look better.”
“And if they don’t make any mistakes?” Temple asked.
Cartwheel turned to look out the window again. “Make sure some happen to them. And, if they do look like they’re going to score this Richard Stall, kill them, then bring in Stall himself. Worse come to worse, we interrogate Stall, and if he proves to be as useless as I suspect he is, we kill him off, and sweep the whole thing under the rug.”
“Yes, sir,” Cole and Temple said, both standing up.
“Better get going,” Cartwheel said. “Stone and Coach have a head start on you.”
The two men left, leaving Cartwheel to ponder his situation once more. Since the so-called “War on Terror” had erupted four years before, the CIA had been purged of a large portion of the “Old Guard,” who were geared more towards the old Soviet Union, and large numbers of so-called Middle Eastern experts had been brought in. To date, they’d all been singularly ineffective, leaving the remaining Old Guard members with a better standing – they hadn’t failed to bring about the capture of America’s enemies, after all – it was the job of the new guys to find these terrorists.
Cartwheel had been one of the younger members of the Old Guard to come in before things changed. And, with CIA failure after CIA failure, the new comers looked worse and worse. And suddenly, the political power denied the Agency after 2001 were starting to come around again. And Cartwheel, as head of the Los Angeles district, was suddenly in a position to make a rather big name of himself.
The CIA was nothing more than a stepping stone for him, and if – just if – these two Scotland Yard idiots were on to something, and this Richard Stall was involved in terrorism…
Well, capturing a dangerous terrorist sympathizer with substantial funds on American Soil was the type of career booster that sent you right to DC, and with the kind of political clout to start generating a serious support base.
Cartwheel was just now 31. The next elections would be in ‘08 – leaving him a whopping 1 year shy of that out-dated 35-year age limit to run for the White House. But with enough support and backers, well, but the time 2012 rolled around, Cartwheel could be in a very, very good place to being one of the youngest American President’s ever.
And it could all start right here, by capturing one wayward British Citizen.
Cartwheel allowed himself to fantasize for a solid minute, leaning back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head, and staring at the ceiling wistfully. Then he sat up and got back to work, vowing to keep a close eye on how Cole and Temple proceeded.
Indeed, this could very well be his chance after all.