Life in the Elysium

Life in the Elysium, Ch. 17

The poison pill is set, and Jack's ladies go dress shopping

This is my first time writing erotic fiction. I hope you enjoy it, as these scenarios have been floating around in my head for a while. Be aware, this series will include a variety of adult situations, including bisexuality, interracial sex, incest, group sex and other taboo subjects that not everybody may be into. If any of these subjects bother you, there's an entire site here filled with things you may prefer more. In any event, thanks for reading.

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Monday night was one of the best nights of my life. My dance with Avery was still in my head, and I could smell her perfume, the same perfume that was on the note she'd sent. I may have slept alone on Monday night, but in my dreams, the dance was still going, and that kiss at the end, that glorious kiss, wasn't the end of the night, but the beginning.

Across town, the next part in our quest to find out who was targeting the Elysium, and my family was playing out, and I was none the wiser.

* * *

Chet Biggs lived in a nice, relatively new home on Pecos River Avenue in Henderson, Nevada. The largest suburb of Las Vegas, it was also the second largest city in Nevada. Southwest of Las Vegas proper, and just a few miles from the Strip, it was a nice place to get away from the tourists and the bustle, but boasted enough nightlife and things to do that you didn't have to end up going into the City all the time to have a good time. It had its own police department, the HPD, which was separate from LVMPD, so Biggs was happy he wouldn't have to deal with any of this former colleagues out here.

It was around seven on Tuesday morning. Biggs didn't have to be at work until four that afternoon, so he planned on spending the day with his wife, who also had Tuesday off. Monica was a speech therapist, who worked with kids in the local school system. Her job was steady and helped pay the bills, which tended to stack up, especially when Chet's "hobby," as she called it, threatened their economic stability. But they'd been fine for a while now, more than a year, and she had decided to keep her job. It made her happy to have something to do, and Chet didn't mind sharing her. They didn't have kids, weren't sure if they wanted any, and while they were both mid-thirties and still had time, Chet knew in the back of his mind that she was worried about her cancer, what would happen if it came back, and if it was hereditary.

"Come on, Scout, let's get you out." Biggs said, rising from bed. His big black Labrador Retriever, Scout, laid at the foot of their bed. Monica was still asleep, and he let her lay there. He could have woken her up for a nice morning round under the sheets, but he let her sleep. He had something to do this morning.

He threw on a Las Vegas Raiders sweatshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, put on a pair of loafers, and got up to take the dog on his morning walk. Scout jumped up happily, tail wagging as Biggs fit the lead to his collar, and then stopped by his front closet. There was a piece of chalk on the top shelf of the closet, hidden in plain sight in a dish filled with change, old buttons and the like where they threw random objects they didn't have an immediate use for. He took the chalk from the shelf, and then reached into the pocket of his jacket he'd worn home from work Monday night. There was a thumb drive in it, and he retrieved that as well, stuffing both the chalk and the thumb drive in the pocket on his sweatshirt.

He opened and closed the door to the house, led Scout out and down the driveway, and readied the piece of chalk in his pocket. He went to his mailbox, opened it, as if checking to see if he'd forgotten to get the mail last night, and confirming it was empty. As he closed the mailbox, he casually swiped a line of chalk down the side. It was long enough that it could be seen from the street, but if anybody asked, it just looked like a line of bird shit or some other random dirt. Biggs closed the mailbox, turned left and made his way down the street towards Boulder Creek Park.

There was a gray SUV, parked a few houses down from Chet's home. Its windows weren't heavily tinted, but the sun was bright and the light reflecting off the windshield kept anybody from being able to see in. Lionel sat in the driver's seat, wearing a similar outfit to Biggs - sweatshirt and sweatpants, although he had a P229 concealed under his sweats. Next to him, wearing sweatpants, a tight sports bra and a thin running jacket, topped with a Vegas Knights hat with her black hair flowing out the snap back in a loose ponytail, was Gabby. If the two got out of the car, Lionel would look like every other random person out on a Tuesday morning, and Gabby was your average jogger, with headphones, her iPhone 22 in a fanny pack around her waist that also held a concealed P229.

"Right on time," Lionel noted, looking at his watch.

"Did you see how he marked the mailbox? Chet's got some moves," she noted. "He must have been doing this a long time. That's some genuine spy level tradecraft right there," she snorted. "Fucking bastard."

"Learned from the best," Lionel said. "I trained him myself," he added.

"And where did you learn this stuff?" Gabby asked him, eyebrow raised. She thought Lionel was an ex-cop like her. They'd worked together for a while, but Lionel was an intensely private guy, and she hadn't had that many conversations with him. Her role was supposed to be more undercover, which was why she got tasked with the Biggs surveillance. She wasn't sure why Lionel was here. He was just a bodyguard.

"I'm ex-FBI," he said. "I spent fifteen years in counterintelligence, doing shit like this, watching really poorly trained Chinese spies fumble fuck around. I met Sol Sinclair during the investigation into his wife's accident. That accident killed a US Senator, and we thought for a while that maybe the Chinese had been behind it. We couldn't find any evidence of it, any evidence of anything at all, honestly. But that's where I met Mister Sinclair. When I told him I was tired of the Bureau, he offered me this job and I've been here ever since," Lionel explained.

It was the longest bit of exposition Gabby could ever remember from him. She was intrigued.

"No shit, you were FBI? I had no idea. I thought you were another washed up beat cop like me," she laughed.

Lionel grunted. Biggs was far down the street by now, headed for the park, with his dog.

Boulder Creek Park was a stone's throw from his front door, and featured, among other things, a dog park, a playground for kids, and a basketball court. He was a frequent visitor, there almost every day, taking Scout to do his business and to have a little fun with the neighbor dogs. They got to the park, and Biggs stopped to let Scout off his leash. There was a large rock on the ground, right at the edge of the dog park, one among many, that formed a barrier to keep the dogs from running out into the street. It was loose, and when Biggs leaned over to take Scout's lead from his collar, his hand slipped under the rock and dropped the thumb drive beneath it. There was a slight indentation under the rock, and the thumb drive fit easily. The indentation was large enough that a very full envelope containing ten grand would magically appear there later in the day.

Biggs let Scout do his business, which he bagged and held in his hand. Scout got to run and frolic for about half an hour. Biggs called him over, reattached the lead and walked back to the house.

"What's that in his hand," Gabby asked, as Biggs came closer into view of the car.

"Dogshit," Lionel responded.

"Gross," Gabby said, making a disgusting sound.

"Gotta scoop the poop," Lionel said. "At least Biggs isn't the kind of asshole that just leaves it there."

"So, transfer's made," Gabby said, sitting back in her seat. "You know what's on the thumb drive?"

"Sort of. Mr. Sinclair and Mrs. Fisher spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening working on a bunch of misinformation they want to feed to whoever is behind this. They had some financials doctored, indicating the protesters were causing a much larger disruption to the Hotel than they were, and that the Hotel was back in the red again. After we came back from the protest and Jack told them about that Avery Locke cunt, they added something saying they were hiring her to be the new spokeswoman for the Sinclair Group," he snorted. "As if. I have no idea what Jack sees in that woman," he said.

"I'll tell you what he sees - he sees a fucking hot as hell Indian girl, with gorgeous hair, nice lips, tits that rival Lucy's and a body that won't quit. I'd hop into bed with her in ten seconds, and I'm not even that into girls," Gabby said, laughing.

Lionel didn't laugh. "That boy's going to get us into trouble if he keeps thinking with his dick and not his brain. I like him, but he's got an impulsive streak a mile wide," Lionel said.

"Don't underestimate Jack," Gabby said. "He's pretty smart, and he's got balls. Pretty good lay too," she noted, raising her eyebrow.

"Now that I won't question. He's got balls of steel, and he sucks a mean dick," Lionel said, a smile cracking his face as the memory of Jack walking through the mall with Lionel's jizz all over his face came into his mind's eye. "You should have seen him wade into that crowd of protesters yesterday, grab that fucking dork's bullhorn and give a speech. I was proud of the kid."

"And you should have seen the fucking he gave me yesterday," Gabby said. She squirmed a bit in her seat. The thought of Jack's lovely cock was getting her slick. "So, what do we do now?"

"We wait for whoever services this dead drop to show up and get that thumb drive. Then we're going to follow them and see where this leads," Lionel said.

"What should we do while we wait?" Gabby asked. She had done a few surveillances in the past, but she was mostly a beat cop and it could be hours while they waited.

"I've got a book on tape I'm going to listen to. You've got your phone. And I'm sure you can think of something else to do, just don't get too distracted. We don't want to miss whoever is coming," Lionel said.

The pair sat for about two hours in the car, watching the park. A few cars drove past in that time, any one of them could have the guy who was to service the dead drop in it. Nobody stopped, however. Gabby soon got bored scrolling Instagram, and decided to chat.

Gabby got a gleam in her eye. "Did I ever tell you why I got kicked off the force?"

Lionel turned to look at her. "I didn't know you got kicked off the force. Jesus, you worked in Baltimore. How does anybody get kicked off BPD? You kill somebody on TV?"

Gabby laughed. "My partner and I were out on patrol. We'd pulled over to watch a corner, you know, typical dealers just slinging. I liked my partner, so I fished his cock out and started giving him a blowjob while we sat, watching the corner. Apparently, we missed two calls from dispatch while I was sucking his dick, and the shift Lieutenant came by to check in on us, and found me going to town on Pete's knob. I got written up for sexual harassment, even though it was obviously consensual. El Tee told the whole squad room that he came up to us, and I was so engrossed in sucking Pete's dick, my hair going all over the place, I looked like a Tasmanian Devil. Pete got reassigned to harbor patrol, and I got shitcanned. Pete had a nice dick, too," she said, wistfully. "So, I got a new tattoo, left BPD, and a few bumps down the road, I ended up here," she finished.

Lionel looked at her. "I can't believe they'd fire you just for sucking a dick," he said. "What a bunch of prudes."

Gabby licked her lips and looked at Lionel. "Thank God we don't work for prudes," she said. She took off her baseball cap, and reached over and unzipped Lionel's pants. She reached in and fished out that fat hog of a cock she'd heard about. Gabby's story had clearly worked on Lionel's imagination, because he was already half hard. Licking her lips again, she stroked his dick a few times and watched it grow.

"Damn, Lionel. I had no idea you packed this much meat! How did Jack ever get that thing is his mouth?"

"Jack's got a big mouth," Lionel said. "How big is yours?"

"Let's find out," Gabby said. Lionel reached over and leaned back his seat, and then raised it as far as it would go. This made it a little easier for Gabby to get to his dick. Lionel hadn't had his seat belt on, but Gabby had, out of habit, so she unbuckled it, and then leaned over, slowly engulfing Lionel's fat black cock with her mouth. It was almost as big around as a coke can, but she did have a big mouth and a lot of practice with it, and she was able to get the entire head in.

Lionel grunted and sighed, then put his hand on the back of her head as she started to work his cock in and out of her mouth. He reached over and felt her tits with his right hand, his left still on the back of her head. He could feel the metal of her nipple rings under the sports bra, and that turned him on even more. Gabby was a messy cocksucker, and soon Lionel's crotch was moist, her spit glistening all over his fat cock and dripping down into his curly pubic hair. His cock was not the longest, trading girth for length, so Gabby didn't have much shaft to work, and his balls were hanging down into his pants and she couldn't really get to them with her mouth, so she redoubled her efforts, going up and down on his cock, licking the tip, swirling her tongue around his glans, and doing everything she knew that men enjoyed.

Lionel moaned, his eyes closed. Gabby was an amazing cocksucker, and he was pleased he got a chance to sample her wares. Having guarded the Sinclairs for as long as he had, he'd seen all of them in various states of undress, in the middle of various sexual exploits, and there wasn't a single day he regretted giving up his government job to go into the private sector. The money was absurdly better than what he was making working for the Bureau, and the fringe benefits - he looked down at Gabby's red lips and pretty face slurping on his cock - couldn't be matched.

They had all the time in the world, so Gabby dragged this blowjob out for a long time, taking a few breaks to rest her jaw, but then redoubling her efforts. After about half an hour of slurping, she could feel Lionel start to tense up. His hog got even harder, and she started to furiously bob her head, trying to push him over the edge. It worked, and his fat cock spat cream straight down her throat. She got all of it, swallowed, then put Lionel's slowly deflating black cock back in his pants, which he then zipped up. He reset his seat.

"This is definitely the best surveillance I've ever done," Lionel laughed. Gabby laughed with him. "All we need now is for this shithead to show up."

It was just around eleven, four hours or so after they had arrived, when a motorcycle came down Pecos River Avenue. The guy on the back looked completely out of place for this neighborhood, as did the Harley he was riding. He rode slowly past the house, then turned left and made his way around the neighborhood until he got to the park. Lionel tapped Gabby on the shoulder.

"I got him," she said. She reached down between her legs and pulled out a camera with a zoom lens on it. She managed to catch him before he turned the corner, and got a good shot of the license plate and the back of the rider. A few minutes later, the guy on the bike reappeared in the parking lot of Boulder Creek Park. Gabby switched the camera to video mode, and started shooting. The biker walked over to the dog park, and stood for a minute, watching the two or three dogs who were there. He pulled out a pack of smokes - Henderson didn't have the same onerous anti-smoking laws that Vegas proper did now - put one in his mouth and lit it with his lighter. He took a drag, but then dropped the lighter. Gabby thought she could see him curse out of the side of his mouth, the lit cigarette still hanging from his lips, as he went down on the ground, trying to find where he dropped the lighter. He was smooth, this guy. In one swift motion, he had an envelope out of his vest, had placed it under the rock, and came back with something in his hand. He grabbed the lighter, and then stood up. He put the lighter - along with whatever was in his hand - in his pocket. The whole transfer took less than four seconds, and unless you had been staring directly at him, like Lionel and Gabby were, you'd never have seen anything.

"Did you get that," Lionel asked her.

"Every fucking bit of it."

Lionel turned the car on, put it in gear and waited. The biker got back on his bike, revved the engine, and then made his way back down towards Pecos River Avenue. He drove past Lionel and Gabby, stopping very briefly at Biggs house, and wiped the chalk mark off his mailbox. It was the only part of the entire transfer from start to finish that was obvious. It was sloppy, and Lionel tsked.

"Fucking amateurs," he said. "Lazy ass amateurs. He should have parked the bike behind us, walked past Biggs house and wiped the chalk, then serviced the drop. That's what you get when you use some fucking gang bangers to do your dirty work. They get lazy and stupid," he said. Gabby grunted in agreement.

The guy got back on the bike and slowly made his way down Pecos River. He made a left. Once he was out of sight, Biggs pulled the car out, and began to follow.

It was a straightforward tail, the guy on the bike had no idea he was even being followed. He went straight from Henderson, up Boulder Highway until it turned into Fremont Street, made a left onto East St Louis Avenue, and headed directly into Naked City. Naked City was on the north end of the strip, near where Empire Luxe Holdings was planning on building the Amor Luxe, across from the Sahara. It got its name back in the 70s, because this was where all the showgirls used to live, and they'd sun themselves nude. These days, the only naked people you'd see out there were crackheads and tweekers and nobody really wanted to see that. This was Blood territory. Biggs would have known it well from his time on the MPD, but Lionel and Gabby weren't locals, so they just followed the guy on the bike and tried to blend in. Their suburban camo wasn't going to work up here, so they knew they couldn't stop. They saw the biker pull into a dry cleaners next to a Seven-Eleven, and they just drove past. After taking a few random turns to clear any tails, Lionel confirmed they weren't being followed and headed the car back down Las Vegas Boulevard towards the Elysium.

Biggs' story had checked out. The drop had gone exactly how he'd explained, they'd planted the poisoned pill, and they found where this "Patches" guy had his HQ. Lionel had noticed a few houses and a motel in the area, and he was going to recommend that they find somebody on staff who would better fit in here to handle the next part of the surveillance. Lionel was too black and Gabby too fucking hot to do a stakeout in Naked City. They'd need someone Hispanic, somebody who could pass for a gang banger and knew the lingo and the area.

He thought he knew the perfect guy.

As they passed the empty lot the Amor Luxe was going to be built on, he noticed a crowd of protesters out, picketing. There wasn't even anything there, but they were trying to draw attention to the Amor Luxe construction site. It looked like Vex Romano was having the same problems Sol Sinclair was.

"I'm surprised Romano doesn't just have one of his goons drive through the crowd over there," she said, looking at the picket line. "That seems like the kind of thing he'd do."

"Yeah," Lionel said, filing the thought away.

They pulled into the Elysium around one in the afternoon. They made their way to Main Security, briefed Chris Stoneman and clocked out. Gabby went up to her room in the penthouse, and Lionel made his way to the fifth floor. He peeled off his sweats, grabbed a quick shower and fell into bed. He was asleep thirty seconds after his head hit the pillow.