The Taming of Cassandra - The Complete Series

by Jamie Hunter

  Cassandra crossed her arms and nodded. “Yeah. Next time.”

  The door closed. The lock clicked. She engaged the deadbolt, and clasped the chain.

  Then she ate spicy, delicious soup.

  Cassandra wondered if she were the only person in the city making coffee at 2am. She didn’t do it to stay awake — that wasn’t a problem in the slightest. She did it because she liked coffee. And because, believe it or not, the act of drinking coffee actually relaxed her.

  Besides, she had lots of work to do.

  At least, that’s what Cassandra told herself as she settled into her computer chair. Nearly two hours later however, she’d accomplished almost nothing. Right now she slumped idly in front of the glowing screens, her mind wandering in a thousand different directions. None of which were the least bit productive.

  This sucks, she thought. I have so much to do.

  That much was true. Most of what Cassandra did, outside of bartending, was work well suited for the dead of night. It was often illegal, blackhat at best. And it was very, very risky.

  She rubbed at her eyes. Her machines were very loosely connected to the Internet through a host of complicated proxy servers. One wasn’t even connected to anything at all. Had she plugged that one in, some incredibly scary people would be showing up very quickly. She was always careful to keep that one separate.

  Knock.

  The sound was low, nearly inaudible. Cassandra almost didn’t hear it.

  Knock knock.

  Padding soundlessly across the floor, she checked the peephole. Her eyebrows knit together.

  Shit.

  With a tired sigh, Cassandra undid the lock and opened the door. She left the chain engaged, however.

  “What is it Jeremy?”

  The guy on the other side of the door brightened immediately.

  “Hi! Cassandra? I thought I heard you walking around up here.”

  “I live here.”

  Jeremy chuckled. It was a nerdy chuckle.

  “Yeah, of course you do. I just… well, I knew you’d be up. You’re always up. And well…”

  “You thought you’d say hi.”

  Her flat-mate nodded vigorously. Situated directly beneath her apartment, Cassandra realized long ago that Jeremy had to know just about everything about her. When she ate, when she screwed, how many times she flushed the toilet. It was one of the unavoidable drawbacks to living in an old, low-rent building.

  “Sorry if I’m bothering you,” he apologized quickly. “I couldn’t sleep either. I— I was about to watch television…”

  Cassandra looked on in amusement as Jeremy did his best to avoid turning five different shades of red. She let him squirm a bit before clearing her throat. “And?”

  “Want to watch a movie with me?” he blurted.

  She bit her lip. Jeremy from the fourth floor was a good guy. Nerdy cute. He knew what she did, but he’d always kept perfectly quiet about it. Cassandra had even helped him out once, by phishing his boss’s email and incepting something that would’ve certainly gotten him fired.

  She’d found flowers at her doorstep every day that week. He’d been grateful to the point of tears.

  Still, that wasn’t where their relationship ended. Because late one evening, horny and alone, Cassandra had invited Jeremy up to her place. That night she’d laid back on the couch, dropped her panties, and allowed him to go down on her for a good forty-five minutes straight.

  He’d been showing up now and then to “say hi” ever since.

  “Jeremy thanks, but I’ve gotta be up early,” she lied. “Besides, I’ve still got tons of stuff to do.”

  His enthusiasm faded, but only a little. He nodded in understanding.

  “Okay. Well then, have a good night.”

  Cassandra watched him turn and slump away. He was about to round a corner when she closed the door, unclasped the chain, and opened it up again.

  “Wait,” she called after him. “What movie?”

  Jeremy whirled. “Mad Max.”

  Cassandra squinted. “Old one or new one?”

  “Does it matter?” He shrugged. “They both kick ass.”

  It was a fair point.

  Cassandra glanced back at her computer, but only for a moment.

  “Alright, let me get my blanket.”

  Jeremy ran back up the hallway, his face painted with hope. His expression was a cross between unbridled enthusiasm and trying his best to play it cool. It was kinda cute.

  A minute later Cassandra stood beside him, clutching her blanket as the elevator doors closed. “Oh, and Jeremy?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re watching a movie. We are not fucking.”

  Now he actually did turn red. Maybe even purple.

  “O—Okay.”

  Four

  Jeremy’s apartment was a mirror image of her own. Same floor plan, same layout, but with far less furniture and a much more contemporary look.

  Thankfully, he also liked to keep the lights dim. Maybe because it was three in the morning, or maybe he just knew what she liked. Either way, Cassandra appreciated the gesture.

  “Something to drink?” Jeremy asked.

  “Water, please.”

  His place was nice. Neatly kept. It definitely had a ‘guy’ feel to it, as it was missing a lot of the smaller details that a woman might fill in. But it was still cozy. Comfortable.

  Jeremy showed her around, giving her a half-hearted, perfunctory tour. It was quiet, subdued. They crossed the apartment with silent movements that made Cassandra feel like they were conducting a late-night fridge raid during a sleepover.

  Finally they hit the couch.

  Her nervous host flicked the television on as Cassandra settled in beside him. The Road Warrior was already playing. Mel Gibson raced across some beautiful apocalyptic landscape while music played softly in the background. Jeremy had graciously lowered the volume — yet another thing she appreciated.

  “Sorry it already started,” he fumbled.

  “That’s okay. I just want to chill.”

  It was true. Cassandra had had a long day, and an even longer night. Her body was growing tired but her mind hadn’t caught up yet. That happened a lot with her. A good veg-session in front of an old movie was just the cure.

  “I didn’t realize you lived alone,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he chuckled timidly. “Just me.”

  Cassandra snuggled in, pulling the blanket over the both of them. Her host stiffened and withdrew his outstretched arm.

  “Jeremy relax,” she told him.

  “Uh, okay.”

  “You’ve had your tongue inside my body,” Cassandra joked. “I think you can probably put your arm around me.”

  Even he laughed at that, and soon she was nestled into his chest. His rhythmic breathing, coupled with the flickering images on the television, allowed her to unwind even further.

  That strange guy at the laundromat, she thought. Who was he?

  She closed her eyes to better picture him. Tall. Trench coat. White streaks in his thick black hair.

  Cassandra went deeper, and the image floating in her mind became slightly clearer. It was a gift she had; an almost photographic memory. Almost, but not quite.

  Dark eyes. Very dark.

  Staring at her…

  Jeremy shifted, jolting her awake. She hadn’t even realized she slept. The movie was still playing, but it had wound down to the climactic final chase scene.

  She was sleeping in Jeremy’s lap now. He had one hand in her hair, stroking it absently. The motion was gentle, even loving. No wonder she’d fallen asleep!

  Cassandra glanced up. Jeremy was still watching the movie, although his eyes were drooping and unfocused. She felt warm and safe nestled beneath the blanket. Protected, cuddled up on the couch with his arm around her.

  And just beneath her head, Jeremy’s warm lap. There was a bulge there now. A semi-stiff bulge that any guy might have a difficult time avoiding when some att
ractive girl is sleeping soundly on his crotch.

  He was wearing basketball shorts, knees out, feet on the floor. After only a moment’s thought, Cassandra slid her hand up one of the legs and gave his cock a squeeze.

  Jeremy’s gaze shot downward. Cassandra’s hand continued to move. She was massaging him now, over the soft material of his boxers. The bulge stiffened noticeably.

  This is probably a bad idea, she thought. But Jeremy was cute, he was sweet, and she was going to do it anyway. She looked up and gave him a sexy wink.

  Pulling on the already-loose waistband, she freed him from his shorts. Then, wordlessly, she put him into her mouth.

  Jeremy groaned as Cassandra went down on him. His hand was already on her head, but now he stroked it so that her long dark hair sifted between his fingers.

  “I—” he stuttered dreamily. “I thought you said—”

  Cassandra reached up with one hand and put a finger to his lips. She felt him relax again as she popped the silky head temporarily from her mouth.

  “Just lay back and enjoy it.”

  Some guys didn’t know when to stop talking. Jeremy was smart enough not to be one of them.

  Cassandra’s warm, wet mouth moved up and down her apartment-mate’s now rock-hard member. She felt sexy. In control. A minute or so into blowing him, she put some extra effort into it as well. Cassandra stroked the base with one hand. Cupped his balls with the other. Stopped now and then to lick the entire length of the shaft before plunging it back down her throat with a gentle whimper.

  She liked Jeremy. He deserved some of the bells and whistles.

  All throughout, Jeremy kept stroking her hair. He did it gently, appreciatively. His head rolled back, mouth open. He groaned in pleasure at the ceiling.

  As always happened whenever she got turned on, Cassandra stomach began to flutter. A tingle started between her legs, and it was spreading rapidly. With her free hand, she reached down and touched herself. She was still swollen from Donovan. Still wet from what he’d done to her, only a few hours before.

  Cassandra rubbed herself while she sucked on Jeremy. Pushed those same three familiar fingers against the top of her mound. Every once in a while she’d go deep on Jeremy’s cock, simultaneously thrusting the tip of one finger inside herself. It was a motion she’d repeated a million times, and it never got old.

  He didn’t last long. Neither did she. Jeremy’s balls retracted, his back arched, and he began to come. Almost immediately Cassandra reached an orgasm of her own. She shoved three fingers deep inside herself while grinding down on the flat of her palm.

  His body spasmed. Her throat opened to receive him. On screen, Max’s fuel tanker crashed head-on against the final enemy vehicle in a great shower of dust. Off-screen, Jeremy exploded spurt after warm spurt, straight down Cassandra’s throat.

  She swallowed the last of his load and followed up by licking him clean. Then she looked up with a glassy-eyed grin.

  “That was a lot.”

  Jeremy smiled and nodded weakly. He was just now returning to Earth.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Cassandra shot him a playful smirk. “Life tip Jeremy? Never thank a girl for blowing you. It cheapens the whole experience.” She paused and bit her lip. “Not that I’ve ever minded a cheap experience,” she added quickly.

  Before he could say anything else, she gathered up her blanket. “Thanks for the company,” she told him. “And the movie. It was fun.”

  Jeremy started to rise, but Cassandra put a hand on his shoulder and showed herself out. A minute later she was back in the elevator, wrapped in her blanket. Trying desperately to convince herself to go back to work.

  But she couldn’t focus. Her only thoughts were of the man in the trench coat.

  She decided to find him. Next Tuesday would be the most logical starting point, but Cassandra knew she couldn’t wait that long. Luckily she had some other, more immediate ideas.

  Back in the sanctity of her apartment, the sun was just cracking the sky. Cassandra yawned and grabbed for the coffee pot.

  She couldn’t wait to get started.

  One

  Cassandra closed her eyes, allowing the near-scalding hot water to flow freely down her naked body. It felt insanely good. Always did. Anyone she ever showered with could never stand such temperatures, and so she almost always showered alone. Almost.

  Eyes closed, she pondered her next move. For three days she’d been searching for any trace of the man in the trench coat. And in all that time, she’d come up empty.

  Even worse, she’d gotten absolutely nothing done. Her work was suffering. The dark-eyed stranger from the laundromat kept creeping back into her thoughts, destroying her concentration. And she didn’t even know why.

  Probably just some random weirdo, she thought. Staring you down. Perving on you. Big deal. He wouldn’t be the first.

  Still, Cassandra just couldn’t let it go. No matter how hard she told herself to move on, her brain just didn’t work that way.

  She rinsed the shampoo from her long tangle of dark hair. The soap ran down her back, slid along the curve of her ass, made its way down her long, slender legs. The shower always made her feel sexy, and she found herself wishing someone were there with her. Ethan maybe, or even Aaron. Hell, why not both.

  Cassandra slid a hand down her belly. She considered taking things further, then laughed abruptly and turned off the water.

  No, she told herself. Enough procrastinating. It’s time to work.

  It took only a few moments to towel off, throw on some clothes, and get back in front of her computer. She had the closing shift tonight. The bar would be packed. By the time she got home she’d be exhausted, so if she were going to get anything else done it had to be right now.

  She stared at the blinking cursor for a good two minutes. Her fingers still hadn’t moved.

  Did I try the bank?

  In the past few days, Cassandra had done just about everything she could to locate the man in the trench coat. She’d gone back to the laundromat. Talked to three different employees who had various shifts there, and a fourth one over the phone. None of them recognized the man she described. Either that, or none of them cared.

  She’d even done a sketch. While Cassandra was no true artist, she had the ability to draw things with passable accuracy. Beyond the laundromat, she’d brought her sketch to every surrounding business within two blocks of the place. Delicatessens, convenience stores, restaurants, gas stations. Even the guy operating the sausage truck across the street.

  Still nothing. After all, it was a big city.

  Work, she scolded herself. Back to work!

  But first, coffee.

  Cassandra stood and crossed into the kitchen. As the pot filled rapidly from the open faucet, she glanced out the window. It was still raining. Still miserable outside, all grey and cloudy and— The man was down there.

  She gasped. There he was, standing in the rain, just on the other side of the street. He had the trench coat on. A sleek black umbrella in one hand.

  And he was staring at her. Staring directly up to the fifth floor window of her apartment.

  For a split-second they locked eyes.

  Cassandra froze again, but only for a moment. Then she was off… through the door, down the hall, and into the stairwell. There was no time for the elevator. It was always slow anyway. Rather than wait for it Cassandra flung herself down five flights of stairs, practically tripping over her own body in the process.

  She shouldered through the stairwell door. Exploded into the main lobby. Ran outside…

  The man was gone.

  Quickly she glanced left and right, her already-wet hair whipping itself against her face. There he was! Half a block down, folding up his umbrella. Ducking calmly into the driver’s side of a black sedan.

  “Hey!” Cassandra shouted. Her bare feet were already sprinting down the rain-soaked sidewalk.

  “HEY! Hold up!”

  The car started
. The lights blinked on.

  “Wait for—”

  The vehicle pulled away just before she could get to it. It entered traffic, turned the corner, and was gone.

  “DAMN!” Cassandra swore.

  She stood there half-dressed, bare-footed, out of breath. A few passers-by turned their heads to stare at her from beneath their umbrellas. She must’ve looked even more crazy, because now she was mumbling to herself. Repeating the same phrase, over and over again.

  The car’s license plate number.

  By the time she got back to her apartment Cassandra was wet and cold, her feet covered in grime. The water was still running, overflowing onto the counter and into the sink. She didn’t care. She was triumphant.

  Grabbing a pen from a nearby drawer, she quickly jotted down her precious mantra. Then she reached for her cell phone.

  Cassandra knew exactly what to do next.

  Two

  KNOCK. KNOCK.

  The door swung open and Cassandra walked straight into the apartment. She crossed a wide stretch of polished oak floor, the heels of her black boots echoing loudly with every step. She wore a white blouse and a tight blue skirt that was way too short, even for her. But none of that mattered.

  “Do you have it?” she asked.

  The man getting up from the couch was devouring her tip to toe with ravenous eyes. His expression was one of revered approval.

  “It’s on the desk.”

  “Everything you could get?”

  “Yup. It’s all there.”

  Cassandra sauntered over to the desk, deliberately crossing each leg in front of the other with every step. She knew what her ass looked like in this skirt. What her calves looked like in these heels. She didn’t need a mirror to know it was a good choice.

  Her footsteps went silent on a long Persian rug. At the opposite, on a glass computer table, rested a single slip of paper. The computer was already on.

  Victor Ramsay. 401 S. 5th Street. Apartment 9.

  Beneath the name and address, more information had been scrawled. A small list of other addresses, plus one for a company. Some traffic tickets. Parking violations. Vehicle information for a matte black BMW.