Zillion

by Alexander Blackwood

  "No more excuses," Scarlet said. "Strip."

  Jennifer clapped her hands and chanted, "Strip, strip, strip, strip!"

  I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. The instant I jumped into the pool the women attacked. They splashed me and I splashed back until they both jumped on me and I felt a hand grab my cock beneath the water.

  Jennifer's beautiful eyes widened. "Wow!" She said with a gasp to Scarlet. "You're right. It's nice and big." With that, she disappeared beneath the surface and an instant later I felt her mouth around my shaft. How she could suck dick underwater, I don't know, but she was damn good at it. Meanwhile, Scarlet smirked at my aroused expression, then waded-in closer and kissed me deeply. Our tongues wrestled playfully as I caressed her tits. Suddenly Jennifer resurfaced, grinning, and the women swapped places. Scarlet submerged to service my cock, while I kissed and fondled Jennifer. Moments later both women tugged me to the edge of the pool. They climbed out and laid down on their backs with their legs spread and their feet still in the water. Two artfully trimmed, dripping wet vaginas, awaited my attention. First I buried my face between Scarlet's thighs, licking then sucking her clit. Simultaneously I used my free hand to rub and finger Jennifer, priming her for her turn. When I finally went down on the older woman, the moment my tongue lashed out she arched her back and moaned intensely. As I gamely pleasured both women, they turned towards each other and kissed hungrily.

  Unable to resist any longer, I pulled myself from the pool and mounted Jennifer. She clenched my tensed forearm with perfectly manicured nails and let out a squelch. Scarlet crouched over Jennifer's face, dipping up and down onto Jennifer's flicking tongue, while simultaneously leaning forward to kiss me.

  The woman's conditioning was fantastic.

  Suddenly, Scarlet declared, "My turn." She shoved me off Jennifer and onto my back. She straddled me and bounced on my throbbing hardness with a ferocity that was almost scary.

  Jennifer remained on her back triple-fingering herself while sucking and licking the fingers of my left hand.

  Damn, movie stars knew how to fuck.

  Still bouncing on my shaft, Scarlet smiled down at me. "Having fun?"

  "Fuck yeah," I said.

  "This is our secret. Be a good boy and I'll bring around more of my famous friends. Deal?"

  I opened my mouth to respond but gasped instead. The warm, wonderful pressure in my balls was having a direct effect on my speech centers.

  "Now hang on," Scarlet said. She executed a series of quick, grinding and popping motions with her hips that made me scream as I exploded inside her.

  All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good party.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  I awoke the next morning in an empty bed with a pounding headache. Typically, I'd ring for a babeboid maid to bring me breakfast along with an additional eye-opener, but I was all sexed-out. Last night's swim meet with Scarlet and Jennifer lasted longer and involved more alcohol than I would've thought myself capable of handling. Thankfully, I was able to rise to the occasion, literally, but now I was paying the price.

  I put on a robe and slippers and made my way downstairs. I was stunned to find the house spotless. Reba must've had a small army of cleaners on standby because there were zero signs that three hundred plus people had the time of their life under my roof just a few hours earlier. If I wasn't suffering from post party overindulgence disorder, I might've thought last night was just the best dream ever.

  When I entered the kitchen I was surprised to find Dr. Kazue seated at the island counter drinking coffee and reading an actual newspaper.

  Who read newspapers any longer? Where'd he even get one?

  Dr. Kazue was draped in a green silk robe decorated with intricate gold embroidery and wore matching slippers. His cane was leaned against the counter.

  Behind him Chef Disla and an assistant worked at the stove. The Chef greeted me with a cheerful good morning then informed me that, as usual, a breakfast buffet would be served in the dining room at 7AM. "But if you can't wait," Chef Disla added, "I can whip you up some eggs and toast."

  I was about to reject his offer and simply request a cup of coffee when Dr. Kazue looked up from his paper and said to the Chef, "Actually, Mathew will have that drink I had you prepare. Nothing more."

  Chef Disla nodded. "Yes doctor." He promptly removed a cellophane covered tumbler from the refrigerator, set it down on the island, then returned to his work at the stove.

  Dr. Kazue pointed at an empty stool and said to me. "Sit. Drink."

  I climbed onto the stool, peeled off the cellophane, and sniffed the contents of the glass. The dingy orange liquid had a faint citrusy aroma. I also detected cinnamon, pepper, and the tang of vinegar.

  "I didn't say snort it," Dr. Kazue said. "Drink. It will alleviate your veisalgia."

  "My what?"

  "Hangover."

  "Oh. Great. But how'd you know I'd have a hangover?"

  "Interesting fact," he said, stroking his white beard. "Not everyone suffers from hangovers, no matter how much they imbibe. It's a body chemistry thing. Your father suffered worse than most. I ventured you inherited that delightful trait and prepared accordingly. Now drink up. Straight down is best because, frankly, it taste like shit."

  I took a deep breath, then gulped down the concoction as fast as I could. Dr. Kazue's description of the taste wasn't far off. I got a cup of black coffee from Chef Disla to cleanse my pallet. The warmth felt good going down and I could already feel my headache waning.

  Could Dr. Kazue's potion really work that fast?

  I watched the doctor sip coffee and read his paper. Despite his wacky sex theories, he had to be very good at his job or he wouldn't have been kept around for so long. I wondered how much he really knew about my father.

  Never looking up from his paper, Dr. Kazue said, "I knew everything about Max Zillion. Absolutely everything."

  I gaped at him. "Holy shit! Did you just read my mind?"

  He harrumphed. "Of course not. I noticed that gawdy bauble on your finger, which means Agent Warren Farris paid you a visit last night. Which means you now have a million questions about your father. Simple deductive reasoning."

  I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Chef Disla wasn't listening, then leaned closer to the doctor and whispered, "Do you have top secret clearance as well?"

  He rolled his eyes. "G-man Farris and his spook nonsense is so tedious. Yes, of course I have clearance. I was Max's personal physician. It would've been impossible for him to conceal all the injuries he incurred on these escapades, so they had to keep me in the loop."

  "Was he injured a lot?" I asked, eager for details about these secret missions. "Was my father ever shot?"

  "Shhh!" Doctor Kazue raised a finger to his lips then glanced furtively at the chef. Satisfied we weren't overheard, he frowned at me and whispered, "While I abhor being bound by Farris's silly rules, we are nonetheless... bound. Let's continue this conversation someplace more private."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I hadn't stepped inside the library since Digby gave Wendell and I a tour of Ace of Spades two weeks earlier. Not because I didn't enjoy reading, it was simply a matter of priorities. Adjusting to the endless facets of my new life left little time for curling up with a good book.

  The library was one of the most impressive rooms in the mansion. Not just because of its enormous, three-tiered layout, but also because of its luxurious decor. Everything was made of polished mahogany. The tall bookshelves that lined the walls, the spiral staircase that curled upward, the ornate mantle over the massive fireplace, and the eye-catching parquet floor. Even the air was infused with the pleasant musk of aged wood. The only objects in the library not made of wood was the tufted burgundy leather furniture.

  Dr. Kazue and I were seated in antique high-back chairs, sipping fresh cups of coffee. A basket of warm blueberry muffins rested on a small tray table between us. We were now alone, the three hundred and fifty thousand books surrou
nding us, the only witnesses to our conversation.

  "Are you sure you're remembering right?" I said to the doctor. "How can anyone be shot thirteen times and still be okay?"

  "Most of your father's suits were bulletproof," Dr. Kazue explained. "Including his shoes and underwear. That's how. It was simply a matter of not getting shot in the head. But make no mistake. Bullets don't have to penetrate the body to cause damage. Max suffered many fractures and countless nasty bruises because of bullet impacts. Every time he returned from a mission he needed a minimum of two weeks to recover physically."

  "Wow," I said. "He must've really loved the excitement to go through all that."

  "True, but it was more than that, I think."

  "What else?"

  "A sense of responsibility, of course. There's an abundance of evil in this world, far more than most people know. Max with his infinite resources was in a unique position to occasionally help and simply felt an obligation. He cared."

  "And it got him and my mother murdered."

  Dr. Kazue stared at me, uncertain. "Is that a question?"

  "Don't worry, doc. I figured it out and Digby and Agent Farris told me the rest."

  Dr. Kazue nodded. He reached for a muffin, sniffed it, then took a sizable bite. After washing it down with a sip of coffee, he said, "So tell me. How much time before your first assignment?"

  "I'm not going on any assignment."

  The doctor's brow fell. "I don't understand. Agent Farris wouldn't interrupt your party unless there was something urgent brewing."

  "You're right. But I told him to forget it. I'm not super spy material, and I definitely don't want to end up like my parents. So, I'm out."

  Doctor Kazue set down his muffin and brushed off his hands while frowning at me. "Ungratefulness is a common trait of your generation that I find particularly distasteful."

  "What are you talking about? How am I being ungrateful?"

  "Your parents went to extraordinary lengths to find you. When everyone told them to stop looking, they looked even harder. They even left specific instructions for the search to continue in the event of their untimely deaths. And that, young man, is why you're sitting here now, wealthy beyond all imaginings. For you to now turn your back on your parents' memory is, in my opinion, the essence of ungratefulness."

  "I don't understand. How is refusing to work for Agent Farris turning my back on their memory?"

  Dr. Kazue pressed a finger to his forehead. "Think. Who's going to exact justice for your parent's murder, if not you?"

  His words hit me like a slap in the face. Up until that instant, it never occurred to me to ask about the perpetrators of my parents' murder. Because their deaths were connected to espionage, I simply assumed the agency handled it in whatever way a spy agency handles such things. And I didn't ask Agent Farris for more details because I had no intention of getting involved. I said to Dr. Kazue, "Are you saying my parents' murder is still unsolved."

  "No. Unsolved would mean there was an investigation to begin with. Your father was an unsanctioned operative. An investigation by the CIA was never even an option. So they let the accidental plane crash story stand and moved on long ago. Mathew, the people responsible for your parents' death, and more than likely, your kidnapping... are still out there."

  "My kidnapping? You think my kidnapping is connected to their death?"

  "That's not my theory alone. That's what Agent Farris believes as well. Your kidnapping was a way to get your father off balance and make him more vulnerable. You were everything to Max. His only weakness. They found a way to exploit that weakness so they could murder him."

  Suddenly, I understood Dr. Kazue's bitterness. My parents sacrificed everything for me, so it made sense that the responsibility to seek justice for their deaths should fall on me. But something still didn't add up. But before I could ask the question, once again, the doctor seemed to read my mind.

  "You're wondering what all this has to do with you working for Farris. Correct?"

  I nodded. "The assignment Agent Farris mentioned had nothing to do with my parents. At least, he didn't say it did."

  "It doesn't. Like I said, they've moved on. Not because they don't care. Never think that. It's because they must remain focused on the tens of millions of lives they work to protect. Individuals lost in the struggle are just collateral damage, even individuals as exceptional as your parents." Dr. Kazue leaned forward, his eyes drilling into me. "But that doesn't mean, between assignments, you can't combine your resources with theirs to conduct your own investigation."

  "You mean, let them use me, so I can use them?"

  "Exactly."

  "Do you think Agent Farris would allow it?"

  Dr. Kazue cracked a small smile. "Agent Farris and Max had enormous respect for each other. I'm sure that was his hope when you put on that ring. Digby's too. I can tell you that when I noticed that ring on your finger, I felt a pang of hope that finally your parents' death would be dealt with."

  Flushed with guilt, my eyes dropped to the signet ring. The bold Z stared back, seeming to question my ownership. I was so selfishly enamored with my newfound wealth and lifestyle that I'd missed the significance of what Agent Farris was offering me. "Why didn't Agent Farris tell me all this?" I said to Dr. Kazue. "Or even Digby?"

  The doctor shrugged. "I supposed they both feel it's unethical to put you on the spot. You are being asked to risk your life, after all."

  "And you don't?"

  "Oh, it's definitely a tad unethical, I suppose, but there's a lot more at stake than polite ethics. Also, there's something about you." He cocked his head as if to intensify his focus on my eyes. "You have your father's eyes, including a certain gleam that set Max apart. You said you're not super spy material. I disagree. You were, quite literally, born to do the job... you just don't know it yet. All that said... do what you feel you must do." Done with his speech, Dr. Kazue picked up his blueberry muffin, reclined in his seat, and took a big bite.

  I watched him with narrowed eyes, a niggling suspicion taking hold. "Doctor," I said. "Did Agent Farris ask you to speak to me?"

  Dr. Kazue frowned. "You have such a suspicious mind, Mathew. What you're suggesting would be incredibly sneaky, wouldn't it?"

  "Yes, it would. So did he or didn't he?"

  Dr. Kazue sighed. "Whether he did or not my answer will be the same, correct? So what's the point of answering?" He gestured to the basket of muffins. "Just have a muffin and think about what we've spoken about."

  I stared at the doctor for a moment. Unable to get a read, I reached for a muffin.

  It was the most delicious blueberry muffin I'd ever eaten.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  "I'm sorry. Exactly how are you acquainted with Mathew again?"

  Wendell's question was directed at Agent Farris, who was seated opposite Wendell at the dining table.

  The bespectacled African American CIA agent looked up from his plate of beef wellington, sliced potatoes, and brussel sprouts. "Actually, I was a close friend of Mathew's father, Max."

  "I see," Wendell said. "That's quite interesting." Then Wendell paused to carve a thick piece of steak and fork it into his mouth.

  My early morning talk with Dr. Kazue in the library had inspired me to host a small dinner party that same evening. The spontaneous nature of the gathering wasn't an issue because most of the invitees, Dr. Kazue, Reba, Digby, and Wendell, already lived in the mansion. The only exception was Agent Farris. I had Digby deliver the invitation earlier and was delighted to learn that Farris had agreed to attend. His only request was that we keep his occupation confidential from the other guests.

  For the main course of the seven-course dinner I had Chef Disla prepare beef Wellington with peppercorn sauce. Digby told me it was my father's favorite, so it seemed especially appropriate for what I had in store for my guest that evening.

  The formal dining room was ridiculously large, but the wall-to-wall picture window view of the ocean was breathta
king. Enjoying a sumptuous meal against the backdrop of a moonlit sea made me feel like I was aboard a luxury cruise. The illusion was helped by the fact that everyone was adorned in formal attire, an attendance requirement I insisted upon. Black tuxedos for the gentlemen, and an elegant black evening gown for Reba. I decided to make the dinner formal because I wanted the occasion to feel special. Also, a part of me was just curious to see Wendell in what he disdainfully called a monkey suit. And while my former roomie did give me grief about forcing him into a tux, I could tell he was beginning to dig it by the affected way he addressed Agent Farris. I'm not sure if Wendell was putting us on or not, but it was hilarious to watch.

  "So," Wendell said to Agent Farris, "did you work with Max or did you work for him? And please, if I'm prying feel free to tell me to mind my business."

  Agent Farris adjusted his glasses and leveled a cool stare on Wendell. "Mind your business."

  Everyone at the table, including Wendell, laughed.

  "You know," Dr. Kazue said to Wendell, "you're much more agreeable in a tuxedo. You should wear one more often."

  "He's right," Reba said too Wendell. "Suddenly you're kind of charming."

  "Apparently it's even given him an accent," Digby said. "Sounds British I think."

  "Yes," Reba said. "I noticed that too."

  "My word," Wendell snorted. "I'm sure I don't know what you people are talking about. This is how I always converse." With that, he picked up his bottle of Corona, swirled it, sniffed it, and took a dainty sip.

  Everyone laughed again.

  I said to the group, "Believe it or not Wendell has two degrees in computer science. One from MIT and the other from Columbia."

  I've known this fact for years, yet saying it allowed still amazed me. For that reason, when everyone set down their wine glasses and forks, I was not surprised.