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Introduction:

What happens behind the news.
To the reader: Any resemblance to any location, to any specific event or series of events, or to any person, living or dead, is coincidental. The opinions expressed below do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the members, administrators, or owners of this website, and they man not coincide with my own opinions, or indeed, those of any right-minded individual.

This story was started quite a while ago in answer to a writer's challenge. The idea was to write about “women for hire.” That didn't necessarily mean prostitutes. People wrote about all kinds of women who use their sweat and their skills to earn a living. I went political. Since we're bombarded with hype about the up-coming U.S. elections, I decided to finish and post my tale now.


__________

I'm known as The Fixer. I'm the head of a clandestine power brokerage agency. Our detractors say we're in the political “dirty tricks” business. I prefer to think of us as people who seek the truth.

Everyone sees the results of some of our work. If a person in power has no conscience, we help the media provide one.

Leaked sex tapes of the rich and famous? My predecessor invented them. Infidelity by someone influential? We're the ones who provide pictures of them and the slut to news networks. The people who pay well don't like you, Congressman? Prepare to see your career, reputation, and marriage crash and burn on the internet.

In some cases, our mark unwittingly provides all the incriminating evidence we need, meaning that all we have to do is observe and record. In others, we do a little creative manipulation of events. A few marks have claimed they've been the victims of entrapment, but the public doesn't care if the evidence is damning enough.

Not all of our work is displayed publicly. Some of our targets are smart enough to bow to the wishes of our clients. The dumb ones stonewall. A few, when confronted with the evidence we gather, try to buy us off, which is fine. They're digging their graves deeper.

My assistant and housemate is a brilliant and beautiful auburn-haired vixen. Her code name is Monica. She excels in the talents of her Clinton Presidency namesake, and will do whatever is required to successfully complete an assignment. You may have seen her in photos our favorite paparazzi sold to one of the British tabloids. That was her in the mask, with the black leather corset and boots, putting nipple clips on a Member of Parliament several years ago.

Me? Even Monica only knows me as The Fixer. That's all anyone needs to know.

We had a new assignment. The target was a vocal pro-life (anti-abortion) activist, Reverend John Doe. This televangelist was ready to come out in support of former governor Smith, a candidate for an important Senate seat. His backers were afraid that Smith's personal life wouldn't survive scrutiny if family values and choice/life debates became important in the campaign. They wanted to silence the flamboyant activist so Smith could distance himself from the man and his mission.

Doe was scheduled to speak at a large anti-abortion rally the following month on a university campus. Smith's people knew from sources inside Doe's camp that Doe was planning to endorse their man as a pro-life candidate, which was the last thing Smith needed. A pre-emptive strike was required.

I had the perfect operative to put up against this mark – Madame Butterfly. She's the granddaughter of a decorated Viet Nam war-era U.S. Army colonel and his war bride. Their son married a Swedish girl, and they gave the world the young woman I work with. MB, as we call her, has enough Asian blood in her veins to look exotic to political candidates, judges, and the occasional swing-vote holding corporate board member. She can look elegant enough to put on a designer suit and pick up her mark in a cigar-and-cognac lounge or innocent enough to be a convincing schoolgirl.

I phoned her, even though she was in the next office. “Are you horny?” I asked when she answered.

“Off your meds again, Fixer? You must be to ask such a crazy question,” she giggled.

“Get your cute ass over here, sweetie,” I said. “I have an assignment for you.”

“Should I leave my panties here?”

“Since when did you start wearing underwear to the office?”

My door opened, and a pair of frilly black boy shorts landed on my desk. Warm ones.

“A woman never knows when she might want to at least pretend she's a lady,” I heard her say, both on the phone and through the door.

“Come in, close the door, and sit down. I need you to do something for me.”

MB model-strutted over to my desk. “Do you really want me to sit? Shouldn't I kneel?”

“We'll get to that, but right now, I need to discuss a new case with you.”

“All right, boss,” she said, adjusting her skirt to sit primly in the chair on the other side of my desk. “Who's the mark?”

“This guy,” I said, pushing a set of photos over to her. “I'll send you the files when we're done in here.”

“With the mane of white hair and the Armani suit, this has to be that fire-and-brimstone televangelist, John Doe,” she said. “Colonel Sanders with a Bible.”

“The Most Righteous Reverend John Paul Doe himself. 'The Rev' or 'John' to people who claim to like him,” I said. “He's creating a problem.”

“Do I need to know what it is?” MB asked, still studying the pictures.

“It's all in the file. He's holding a big rally next month where he's slated to publicly link his ministry to former Governor Smith's Senatorial campaign. Reverend John must be put in an embarrassing situation before that. Smith has things to hide, like they all do, and the thinking is that Doe has to go.”

“What's my cover? Or should I come up with one myself?”

“You're a University student/political activist/pro-life groupie. The good Reverend apparently does private counseling with morally-troubled young girls.”

“Are we going for pics of inappropriate cuddling? Or do we need the money shot?” she asked.

“The client is willing to pay for the deluxe package. Go see The Medic this afternoon and get a tune-up on your ear implant. We're going to want to be able to talk to you.”

“Same acknowledgment as before when I turn my mike off? I'll scratch my nose to let you know I heard you?” she asked.

“That seemed to work well before,” I said.

“Okay, boss. May I have my panties back?”

“You're going to have to work for them.”

“I plan to,” she said. She got up, walked over to me, hiked her skirt up to display her cute little pussy, and climbed on top of me on my chair. “I was horny anyway. I think maybe I want you to cum in my ass this time,” she said as she took off my tie.

The next day, a young woman who called herself Mary “Cho-cho” Bennett went to her first revival meeting conducted by the good Reverend. Cho-cho, as the name tag stuck to her university logo t-shirt said, spent the afternoon working her way through the crowd, and was caught by one of Doe's crew cameras, her hands in the air and a rapturous smile on her pretty face. Whoever was manning the camera got a number of pictures of young girls that day, but zoomed in on Cho-cho's cute little belly button piercing and her uplifted breasts in her tight shirt. He also got some video of her ass in her “skinny jeans” as the crowd was starting to leave.

The trap was baited.

Reverend Doe was airing a commercial on late-night TV pre-selling his “Spring Victory Tour” DVD boxed set, which promised to contain “highlights of Reverend John's most inspiring sermons” and “the faces of real people like you and me whose lives are changing because of The Word.” It was implied that only “three easy payments of just $19.95 (plus shipping and handling)” would bring you nearly as close to Salvation as listening to The Great Man speak live.

Apparently, Reverend John screened his own raw video footage, because he gave Cho-cho a grin of recognition when he spotted her in the same place in front of the stage two nights later at another gathering. The next night, it was a broad smile.

After that show, she waited for him near the entrance to the secure lot where his limo and driver were. The cameras and mikes in MB's bag and clothing worked perfectly, just like the equipment we had hidden nearby. “Silver Sinner is coming. Going to passive audio,” MB said.

“Hello, child,” the televangelist said as he got closer. He looked quite pleased to see her.

“Reverend John, may I speak with you?”

He waved his staff away. “Of course, my dear. Is something troubling you?”

“Not so much any more. I've been to a few of your sermons, and you've really helped. I feel better about some things I never heard anyone talk about in church back home or in any of my college religion classes.”

“The Word and the Light have helped. I've just shown them to you in a new way. I've seen you at some meetings. You stand out from the crowd.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don't get many Asians at my sermons. Especially not as beautiful as you. You've been blessed, my dear,” Doe crooned.

She grinned broadly. “I'm so thrilled to meet you. You're going to be speaking at my University next month. I've been asking around, and it doesn't sound like they're really doing much in terms of providing you with a campus guide, so I thought I'd volunteer. I'm Mary Bennett. My friends call me 'Cho-cho'.”

He took her offered hand in both his meaty paws. “Like the character Cio-Cio San in Madame Butterfly?”

“Yes!” MB giggled.

“Well, Cho-cho, that's a very generous offer. I accept.”

“Really? I'll do whatever I can to make you and your wife feel welcome,” she said with girlish enthusiasm.

“My wife doesn't come with me on the road much anymore. With the ministry growing, someone needs to stay home and mind the shop.”

“You must get lonely doing all these speaking engagements.”

“You're never alone if you keep the Lord with you, and my work brings me the sleep of the blessed, so I'm okay. But thank you for your concern. Sometimes I do wish I had a like-minded mortal person in the room with me to talk to.”

“I could talk to you. In fact, I'd love to talk with you. I think I could learn a lot.”

“Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Sure! Where?”

“My driver can take us anywhere,” Doe said.

Our team was able to follow them easily, since she talked the entire time they were in the limo. We had a surveillance van in the back parking lot of the store next door by the time Doe and Cho-cho got to the coffee shop. We also got three different camera angles of the good reverend's hand brushing her ass as they walked back to his car.

“Shall I take you back to where you parked?” Doe said when they were settled inside.

“I think I'd like to talk some more. I have some questions about morality.”

“I'll try to answer any questions you might have, my dear,” Doe said.

“Can we go someplace to talk? I drove here from school, so I'm like an hour from campus.”

“We can go to my suite. I have research materials there that might help you.”

We already had a team staking out his hotel. Our equipment was in place everywhere in The Rev's rooms. This was going to be easy.

It was surprising to see how blatant Doe's sexual moves were. We might have been able to make him squirm with the surveillance pics we already had. No one watching the elevator video would be able to deny that he brushed his hand against her breast twice.

Once inside the suite, he excused himself to “freshen up,” inviting Cho-cho to do the same in the guest powder room. She spoke to the team from there. “How far do you want me to go with this creep, Fixer? How much do we need?”

“What's your comfort limit?” I asked.

“I'm surprised you have to ask me that. You're the director of this little skit, so direct me.”

“He's got a lot of money behind him. We need enough so that he knows he can't buy his way out of this.”

“Done deal,” she said, as we heard the toilet flush. The indicator for active transmission went off on her voice feed. We were in voyeur mode again.

The Rev came out of his room in a blood red dressing gown, and, it appeared, nothing else.

“Reverend!” MB exclaimed, “I've never seen you in anything but the white suits you wear.”

“You've never seen my video sermons at my ranch? I think I look quite dashing in my cowboy hat and overalls.”

“But Reverend! I'm, uh,… well, I'm surprised.”

“I've been in a suit, vest, and tie since six this morning, and those new shoes I had on today are going to charity. I needed to get comfortable. Would you like something to drink?”

“Um, okay.”

“Perhaps some champagne?” he said, moving to the small wet-bar in the corner of the living room.

“I had that once when I was little at someone's wedding. I remember it tickled my nose. I don't think I liked it.”

“I don't have much here in the way of mixers. Maybe a rum and cola?”

“I've had them before. But should I be drinking in front of you? I'm not quite twenty-one.” Cho-cho giggled.

“God's rules trump man's rules, my dear. There's nothing in Scripture about an age limit for the responsible consumption of alcohol.”

“The Rev's putting something in one of the drinks,” one of the technicians said over our open feed. MB scratched the bridge of her nose with her little finger, our agreed-upon sign to acknowledge a teammate's warning.

Doe brought the glasses to the couch, and invited Cho-cho to sit with him.

“One of my questions is about pre-marital sex,” she said, accepting her glass and raising it to her lips, but not really drinking anything. “A lot of kids on campus see nothing wrong with sleeping around.”

“That's a tough one, my dear. It seems temptation gets stronger for every generation. It was bad when I was a kid. It's worse now. Wanton sexuality is everywhere.” He took a swallow from his glass. “Is your drink okay, dear?”

“It's fine,” she said, taking a tiny sip. “How can I convince my friends to be chaste?”

“Let me ask you something, and I hope you'll give me an honest answer.”

“Of course, Reverend.”

“Have you ever had sex?”

She shuffled her feet and looked down. “Yes.”

“More than once?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“You're going to hate me if I answer that.”

“My dear child, no, it would be wrong for one of God's creatures to hate another.”

“All right, but you'll judge me.”

He moved over on the couch and put his hand on her knee. “If I were not a sinner myself, perhaps I could judge you. But we're all sinners, Cho-cho. I'm a man, sometimes weak, like everyone else. Trust me, sweetheart, I would be the last man to say it's not okay if you enjoyed it. The Lord gave us the ability to experience those sensations for a reason.”

“Why?” she asked, turning to face him.

His hand fell casually between her knees. “To ensure the continuation of the species. 'Go forth and multiply.' If it feels good, He knows we'll do it.”

“But what about sex where you hope you don't get pregnant, or where you use protection?”

“We have been granted the intelligence to produce methods to prevent conception, where that birth would be unwanted or dangerous, or the child would be born into a bad situation. I would never say this in public, but contraception prevents a lot of evil in the world. An out-of-wedlock baby is the devil's spawn.”

“Isn't abstinence the answer?” she asked, again wetting her lips on her glass.

“Let me counter your question with a few questions of my own. Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Reverend.”

“Okay, then please call me John. The reason I ask if you trust me is that I trust you. I'm saying some things to you that many people could misconstrue. The Lord brought you to me for a reason. He wants me to be honest with you.”

“What happens in private conversation stays private,” she said. “I wouldn't want people to know some of the things I'll probably say to you.”

“Okay, wonderful, Cho-cho. Now, second question. If you're not a virgin, how is it that you're not a mother?”

“We used condoms.”

“Good. You used the brainpower God gave you. But what would you have done if a condom had broken? That happens, you know.”

“You mean if I had gotten pregnant?”

“Yes, darling,” he said, edging closer to her. His one hand was now gently caressing her knees through her jeans. He was playing with the long black hair draped over her shoulder with the other.

One of the techs said, “Great video, if you like perverts.”

“I'd be a mommy now,” Cho-cho said, scratching her nose.

“Would you have married the boy so your child would have had a father?”

“I would have, if he hadn't turned out to be a creep. He was messing around with another girl while he was dating me.”

“Would single motherhood have interfered with your life's plans?”

“Yes.”

“You're right, my dear. You would have had to take time off from college just to have the little bastard, and you would have been stuck with the labor and expense of raising it alone. The child would have begun its life at a horrible disadvantage, born of sin, and God's plans for you would have been thwarted.”

“I guess I could have given it up for adoption.”

“A very noble thought, Cho-cho. That might have been the best solution, assuming that the pregnancy, birth, and subsequent separation would not have affected your physical, mental, and emotional health, and also assuming the child would have been given to a couple prepared to try to rescue the spawn of an unholy union.”

“What other alternative would I have?” she asked.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“But,... but,... isn't that the very thing you speak out against, John?”

“It is. That's why I wanted to know if I could trust you. The Lord will forgive your sins if you repent. You know that, don't you?”

“Of course.”

“Some sins are worse than others. Cold-blooded murder is a grievous sin. The destruction of a mortal enemy, however, is sometimes the only course of action available. God will forgive a man who kills someone who is attempting to kill him or do him permanent grievous harm. In some situations, I believe that extraordinary measures can be forgiven to prevent the growth of an enemy. People don't understand the distinction, which is unfortunate.”

“John, are you saying that sometimes it's okay to have an abortion?”

“Not okay, no. But it can be forgivable in some circumstances.”

I spoke into the open feed. “That may be enough, MB. It's time to leave. You're going to get a phone call.”

She barely had time to scratch her nose before her phone rang inside her purse.

“My roommate,” she said, picking up her phone. “Hi, Stacey! ... Yeah, I know it's late. ... He did? … Oh, then I guess I'd better not miss that class. ... No, you sleep like the dead anyway, so I won't wake you up. ... Okay, bye!”

“Problem?” Doe asked.

“Not really. There's a new post on my department chairman's blog about penalizing kids who cut his eight a.m. class too often. He's going to start giving pop quizzes that we can't make up if we're absent, so I'd better go.”

“At least finish your drink.”

I said, “Spill some of it on you. Maybe we can get a chemical analysis.”

She scratched her nose and then picked up her drink. Just as she raised it to her lips, she faked losing her grip on the glass, spilling the drink onto her shirt. Even on the tiny monitor I was watching, I could see her nipples harden from the cold liquid. “Oh, I'm such a klutz!” she fumed.

“Here, darling, let me help you with that.” Doe quickly grabbed some napkins from the bar and began blatantly blotting at her chest.

“What a sleazeball,” one of the techs said.

She scratched her nose as she allowed Doe to paw at her for a second. Then she politely pushed his hands away and stood. “I feel so stupid,” she said. “You must think I'm an idiot.”

“Not at all, my dear, not at all. Accidents happen. You can't wear that wet shirt home. I'll give you a Victory Tour t-shirt.” He bustled out of the room, returning a moment later with a plastic-wrapped white shirt. “Here you go, dear.”

In the powder room while changing her shirt, MB said, “I don't think we have enough on him.”

“I want you out of there. We don't know what's in that drink.”

“It's strong. I didn't even have a mouthful, and I feel a little buzz,” she said.

“That's it. We're done. We have enough to give the clients to keep them happy while we figure out what to do.”

“Fine.” She switched to passive mode again.

Back in the living room, she said, “I really should go. It's getting awfully late.”

“I'll have my driver take you back to your car,” Doe said, touching a button on a pager on the table. “Sometime, I would like to continue our discussion.”

Almost immediately, a knock came on the suite door. Doe rose to answer it, a slight bulge visible under his gown.

MB followed him to the door, and, right in front of the driver, leaned in to The Rev to kiss him on the cheek. “Maybe I can talk to you after your show on Friday,” she said.

“I'll look for you,” Doe answered, and in clear view of everyone, patted her on the ass.

I watched her video feeds to make sure she got down the elevator and into the car safely. Then it was time to race the limo back to where the driver was going to drop her off.

In the car back to the agency, MB was clearly irritated. “No, Fixer. We're not done. Sure, you have pics of him putting something into a drink and patting my ass. Big deal. He sounds like he's not as totally anti-abortion as he says he is, but a good spin-doctor could take care of that. I still think you need more. What are you going to do, have him busted on a drug charge because of the stains on my shirt?

“Depending on what he put in your drink, it may be more than enough, with the audio and video we have,” I said.

“You didn't have his hands on your ass,” she said. “He's a hypocritical scumbag, and he needs to go. I want to take him down right. Then I'm going to take a day off to spend in the shower.”

When I got home that night, Monica and I compared notes in the hot tub. “Are you going to let MB do it?” she asked.

“You know who's footing the bill on this one, hon. We need evidence on the Rev that will turn his staunchest supporters against him. MB is right. She has to fuck him on camera. She's a big girl. This isn't her first assignment, you know.”

“But he's such a pig!” Monica said. “Were you watching the monitors? Did you see him grinding himself against the bar while he was putting that stuff in her drink? I almost got sick!”

“I argued with her all the way back to the office. We can put together a five-minute video of groping, a suspected attempt at drug-assisted rape, and damning admissions, but we need more. The Rev has friends who will try to suppress it or explain it away. That was MB's whole argument, and she's right,” I said.

“I'm not sure I want to see the good Reverend naked,” Monica mused.

“Me either, but a single pic of his ugly bare ass may be enough to get him to listen to us. Just focus on MB, like I will.”

“Oh, MB's my favorite girl in bed. In fact, when this gig is over I'm taking her on a girls' weekend. I'm going to pamper her. But right now, I have this,” she said, taking a deep breath and going under the water to remind me why she has her codename.

Friday night was show time for MB. Monica had helped her with her outfit and make-up. At least, that's what she kept telling me from behind the closed door of the bathroom. The result of everything they did was a near-perfect innocent teen in heat. MB looked like a college divinity major who wanted to have some fun. The girl is sexy in anything she wears, but this retro religious freak outfit was almost over the top.

MB has nearly straight black hair that can easily hide her breasts. Tonight, it was in two high braids tied with white ribbons. She had tiny gold crosses in her ears, wore virtually no make-up, pretty obviously no bra, and a faded tie-dye t-shirt from a religious festival that happened before she was born. A pair of completely worn-out skin tight jeans and rubber flip-flops completed the outfit. Young, sweet, apparently devout, a huge fan of the good Reverend, and oh-so-fuckable.

At the team meeting before the show, one of the techs started a pool on how long it would take from the time MB and the Rev got alone until we would have all the evidence we needed – audio, video, and DNA. I put a thousand dollars on one hour maximum. One hour until we confronted the good reverend with our evidence and our demands.

When the Rev took the stage, he immediately looked to the spot in the front row where he hoped Cho-cho would be. He gave her a huge smile and a little wave when she blew him a kiss. Throughout his sermon, he kept glancing her way.

“Could he be more blatant?” our sound tech marveled.

“Want me to flash him?” Cho-cho giggled in our ears.

“No, MB!” I scolded.

“You're no fun. Maybe he'll have a coronary and solve everyone's problem.”

“We're not assassins, baby,” I said.

“Maybe not, but I'm gonna kill him with kindness after the show.”

“And we'll get to watch,” Monica chimed in.

The Rev ended his show in his usual manner – with a prayer for the health and well-being of the faithful and his signature line “Live by the Word, and do what you do with love.”

“Did you hear that, honey?” Monica asked. “The Rev needs some love.”

“I'm on it,” MB said. “Going to passive transmission.”

Doe was standing at the door waiting for MB before she got there. “Cho-cho!” he called to her as she came around the side of the building.

“Loved your sermon tonight, John!” she responded, breaking into a slow trot that clearly showed the movement of her breasts under her shirt. She hugged him, chastely, when she got to him.

He glanced around and grabbed her, pulling her against him so he could feel her body. “That wasn't the sermon I was going to give,” he breathed into her ear. “Seeing you in the congregation inspired me to open my heart to something the Lord wanted me to say.”

“Oh John! That's the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me! You mean I helped you listen to God?”

“Seeing your face reminded me that He wants me to connect with people on all levels,” The Rev said, nuzzling Cho-cho's neck.

“Ewww,” Monica said over the open feed.

MB scratched her nose and moved out of the man's embrace. “Can we talk some more tonight?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence and hard nipples.

“I would like that.”

Doe behaved himself, more or less, all through the limo ride back to his hotel. He and Cho-cho talked, but it was light small-talk about his tour schedule and her university courses. They held hands the entire time.

Once inside the suite, Doe excused himself to change clothes again. MB spoke to us from the powder room. “This is it, gang. I'm gonna get DNA on my shirt. If that doesn't finish the old perv for the night, I'll get him to fuck me, too. I'd better get a bonus for this one, Fixer.”

“I'll take care of him, MB, after I'm done taking care of you,” Monica said.

“Wait till you see what's waiting to be taken care of in the living room,” a tech snickered.

“God be with you, child,” I said into my mike.

“Fuck you, Fixer,” MB said over the sound of the toilet flushing.

When she opened the powder room door, she understood. “John! What? I mean, why?...”

“Come here, my dear,” Doe said, patting the sofa next to him. The room lights were very dim, but bright enough to see that he was sitting in the middle of the couch, naked. He looked like a polar bear with a beer gut, white body hair matching his trademark white coiffure and beard. The old lecher had a boner.

“Why are you naked?” Cho-cho gasped.

“It's all right. Come here. Sit with me.”

MB made herself as small as possible, managing to put a few inches between herself and Doe.

“You're a cruel man, Fixer,” Monica said over our open feed.

Scratching her nose, Cho-cho said, “John, I don't understand. I came here to talk about morality.”

“I know. Sometimes I find the trappings of modern society to be too confining, too artificial. It's no coincidence that many of the world's pseudo-religions insist on covering the human body at all times. I think sometimes that's a barrier to honest communication between people,” Doe crooned, letting his arm rest casually around Cho-cho's shoulders.

“I guess I see what you mean,” she said, allowing him to cuddle her.

“So what did you want to ask me, Cho-cho?”

She fidgeted with her hands in her lap as he played with her hair. One of the video techs zoomed in on Doe's lap. His belly rolls and his dick bounced as he talked.

Cho-cho stared at his erection, and then looked at his eyes. “Is casual sex wrong?”

“What do you mean by casual sex? Are we talking about prostitutes, sluts, fuck-buddies, or just people who occasionally wind up in bed with someone?”

“That last group,” Cho-cho said, staring again at the reverend's lap.

“My dear, that last group is a very large group of people indeed. Many are tempted.”

“But John, what about what it says in The Lord's Prayer? '… Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil'?”

“It's a prayer asking for strength to resist evil. We are mortals – by definition we are constantly tempted. It's part of the curse laid on mankind by Original Sin. What we must do is recognize temptation, resist it when possible, and, if necessary, repent of our sins afterward,” Doe said. His hand had strayed down MB's shoulder so that it hovered over her breast. “For instance, right now, I'm tempted to touch you in a way some would say is inappropriate.”

“Would it be a sin if I said that would be okay?” Cho-cho whispered.

“I don't think so,” Doe said, running his fingers over her nipple above her shirt.

“You're hard, John.”

“Does that upset you?” he said, pulling her against himself.

“I guess not.”

“Your nipples are getting as hard as my cock,” John said, taking MB's hand and placing it around his erection.

“Should I be doing this, John?” she said. “You're married.”

“It's been a marriage in name only for decades. We were friends before we fell in love, we got married, we fell out of love, but she's a good business manager and helps me with some of my sermons. We respect each other. She has her friends and I have mine,” John said. He had been helping MB stroke him slowly.

“John, will God forgive me if I commit a sin tonight?”

“He may.”

She stroked him more purposefully, and leaned over him, as though to study it. He immediately applied gentle pressure with his hand on her shoulder, urging her down.

“I only ever sucked one cock before. I don't know whether I'll do it right for you.”

One of the operatives stationed in the suite across the hall said, “That's what she said to me the first time we played.”

“When she says that,” I chuckled, “you know it's gonna be good.”

MB scratched her nose in agreement, as she bent over The Rev's lap.

He took her braids in his hands. “I want to watch you, child.”

She took a couple licks of him, pretending she didn't know quite how to go about dealing with it.

“With that gut, we'll get better video if you're on your knees,” I said.

She pulled back, scratched her nose, and looked up. “Do you promise this will stay just between us, John?”

“Of course, child. Between us and the Lord. He knows what we do. He knows what we want to do. Take your shirt off.”

Dutifully, she stood and pulled the vintage t-shirt off over her head. She dropped it on the floor and stayed still, allowing him to look at her.

“Very cute. Now, don't you feel more comfortable, my dear little Cho-cho?

“Do you think I'm cute, John?” she asked.

“You're a very beautiful young woman. With your mixed heritage, you could look like Eve herself did, or perhaps even Mary,” John said, stroking himself.

Monica laughed derisively. “What total bullshit.”

MB scratched her nose as she kicked off her flip-flops and knelt between John's legs. He immediately put his hands on her head to guide her down. Just before she took him into her mouth, she said, “I hope this is okay.”

“God will forgive,” John moaned as she began bobbing up and down.

“How are we doing on time?” Monica asked on the open feed.

“I think my thousand bucks is safe,” I said.

MB pulled off him and asked, “Am I doing it right?” She carefully gave us the finger behind her back.

“You're doing fine, Cho-cho, my child. Just fine.” He pushed her head down again.

She resumed her bobbing and sucking, jacking him when she paused for air. It wasn't long until he threw his head back and erupted.

MB was ready. She made him cum on her face and breasts, and then wiped herself dry with her t-shirt. When she was done, she folded it carefully, trapping his semen inside.

Doe watched her clean herself. “You were wonderful, my dear. Sorry about the shirt. Wait right there.” He hoisted himself off the sofa and waddled out of the room, returning with another of his advertising t-shirts. Cho-cho opened the bag, pulled the clean shirt out, and stuffed the soiled one inside.

“What kind of moron provides his own evidence bags?” an operative wondered.

John leered at her. “You're over-dressed.”

“You want me to take my jeans off?” Cho-cho asked, sounding embarrassed.

“Yes. Nudity is not a sin.”

“It's not?”

“Will you take the jeans off already?” Doe asked impatiently.

Cho-cho stood and began the beautiful process of divesting herself of her ragged jeans. They fit her like a second skin, holes in the thighs allowing us all to see a teaser of what would soon be revealed.

I've always thought MB's ass is her best feature. She's a beautiful girl, a little exotic-looking, as I said. She had the whole Asian schoolgirl thing going tonight, even choosing to showcase that ass in white cotton panties. Any partially blurred shots of her that would appear on the newsstands would convince people that the good Reverend was naked with a sexy young college student.

“Doesn't that feel liberating, my dear? Don't you feel more at one with God, showing him that you appreciate what He has created?” Dole said, patting the sofa cushion beside him once more.

MB sat down, hugging herself. “I committed a big sin, John. We committed a big sin.”

“You gave me pleasure, child. A gift. We did not commit adultery. I have not had sex with you.”

“It's not a sin for a married man to get a blowjob from a young girl?”

“I don't believe it is. At least, not a big one.”

“Even though you came in my mouth and on my face and boobs?”

“My dear little Cho-cho, I'm a well-respected man of God. I'm telling you, that even though you gave me a blowjob and I spilled my seed in your mouth and all over you, I don't think that's a big sin.”

“Bingo!” the one tech said.

“Are we counting the limo ride in the one-hour time limit?” Monica asked.

“No,” I said. “I win.”

MB scratched her nose.

“Wait,” I said. “You know what? I'll go double or nothing, if the rest of you have the guts. We're now at the twenty minute mark. Two grand says MB can give us vaginal swabs in an hour. Look. He's still hard.”

“He carries Viagra in a little pill box in his pants pocket,” Monica said.

“Cha-ching!” I exclaimed.

Scratching her nose, MB said, “John, you're still hard.”

“I'm still tempted,” he said.

“You want me to do that again?” she asked.

“Yes, but not now.”

He stood up and pulled her up to him. “Take those silly panties off.”

“John! Should I?”

“Yes, unless you want me to.”

MB did a pretty good job of acting modest as she lowered her panties and kicked them aside. “Why do you want me naked?” she asked.

The Rev laughed, his eyes glued to her pale, bare mound. “So I can fuck you, of course.”

“John, no! That would be a sin!”

“Are you questioning me?” John said in his best fire-and-brimstone voice.

“No, of course not. I just thought, with you being married and all, the we shouldn't, you know,... It would be pre-marital sex for me,...”

“Which you've already done. My dear young lady, you came to me for counseling on matters of morality, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“And we've talked about how God will forgive those who repent, haven't we?”

“Uh huh.”

“You confessed to me earlier that you enjoyed sex when you did it before, didn't you?”

Cho-cho nodded her head, her eyes focused on Doe's erection. She acted as though she had never seen a penis before.

He led her over to a low-backed arm chair. “I told you our natural nudity encourages us to communicate on all levels. Bend over and grab the arms of the chair.”

As MB dutifully positioned herself, Monica said, “How romantic.”

The Rev spit in his hand and massaged his cock with it. He spit in his other hand and smeared it on MB's exposed opening. Without further fanfare, he began to enter her.

“Oh, John, you're so big. Take it easy! Slow down, please!”

John kept pushing, until his quite average cock was buried to the hilt, or at least, as far as his belly would let it go.

“I'm so full!” Cho-cho exclaimed.

“Your little pussy is tight on me, baby,” Doe said, beginning to stroke in and out of her.

“That feels so good! Oh! Oh, John! I never knew it could feel like this!”

“I think I'm gonna be sick,” Monica said.

“You're no fun. The Rev loves it,” I replied.

MB carefully shifted her weight and that of the pig halfway on top of her, briefly touching the bridge of her nose.

The Rev kept plowing her as she moaned and complimented him on his technique. “You're a hot little bitch, aren't you?” Doe panted.

“You make me that way, John.”

“I'm gonna cum again,” he grunted, grabbing her pigtails and thrusting his bulk against her.

She did an award-winning fake of an orgasm, hyperventilating and clawing at the arms of the chair. As Reverend Doe pulled out and staggered back over to the couch, one of the techs zoomed in on MB's messy pussy. We had The Most Righteous Reverend John Paul Doe exactly where we wanted him.

“Thank you, my child,” Doe panted. “I have a busy day tomorrow, starting with a prayer breakfast, so I should get some sleep. When will I see you again?”

Monica hissed, “God, what a creep!”

Cho-cho's nose itched again. “Oh, uh, yeah, it is kinda late. Um, I can come to your Sunday Son-Rise Sermon,” she said.

“I'll write one just for you,” the polar bear replied. He looked even more like one now that his hard-on had blessedly faded.

“I have to be up pretty early tomorrow morning,” Cho-cho said, retrieving her jeans, flip-flops, and new t-shirt, and heading to the powder room.

“I'll call my driver.”

By the time MB was dressed and back in the living room, Doe's chauffeur had covered the sleeping Rev with his red dressing gown. Wordlessly, the driver held the door for her, and made sure that it was locked when he closed it behind them.

In the car back to the office, I said, “You earned your bonus, MB. The Medic is waiting to examine you, and then you're on vacation for a week. I'll give you the two grand I won as spending money.”

MB laughed. “That won't begin to cover my spa bill after this. I want to be cleaned inside and out. But we're not done.”

“What do you mean?” Monica asked from the back seat.

“Simple,” MB said. “We didn't use protection. We know from his medical records that dear old John Paul Doe hasn't had the snip-snip. I'm supposed to be this nice all-Asian-American born-again near-virgin college girl. Why would I be on birth control? I'm gonna fuck him again on Sunday, and then I'm gonna fuck with his head.”

Pulling into the garage under our building, I said, “This should be fun.”

Sunday's sermon was on youth and beauty, and how it was wrong to value it too much. When he saw Cho-cho in her usual place near the stage, she gave him a little frown. He smiled and winked at her.

Doe led her into his dressing room (which, of course, was thoroughly bugged) immediately after his first show was over. A catered lunch was waiting for them. After they ate, he unceremoniously fucked her and sent her on her way.

MB has always been a very good actress, convincing in every assignment she's been on. She showed her skills again at the afternoon sermon, raising her hands in rapture, swaying to the music, and smiling her adoration at Reverend Doe.

After another quick bang in the dressing room, MB got dressed and left, ostensibly to return to campus. They agreed to talk on the phone every night, and she promised to attend his Wednesday Power Meeting, about a two-hour drive from the University she supposedly attended.

Of course, the techs recorded all their phone calls. They were working in shifts, several people processing and documenting our evidence. We had enough on Doe already to bring his television empire to an abrupt end. The heavy breathing on the phone and the raunchy text messages were priceless.

On Wednesday, MB called Doe, about the time she should have been leaving “her” college to get to where he was speaking. “John?”

“Hi, sweetheart! How's my favorite college student?”

“Sick. This has been happening off and on for a couple days. I thought for a while there that I was gonna throw up again.”

Doe asked, “Is there a virus going around your campus?”

“I don't know. But John, I'm really upset.” She made herself sound like she was crying. “I feel too sick to drive so far, but I really want to see you.”

“I don't want you driving all that distance if you're not feeling well, Cho-cho. You should rest so we can see each other this weekend.”

“You're back at the same place you are now for your Sunday shows aren't you?” she asked.

“Yes. Come down here Sunday. I could use some more inspiration for my afternoon and evening performances.”

“Okay. Look, I better go. I really don't feel well. I'll call you tomorrow.” She broke the connection, and howled with laughter. “I can hardly wait to see his face.”

Sweet, cute little Cho-cho Bennett was in her usual spot near the stage. She showed the same rapturous smile during the hymns, but she looked unhappy at times, too.

Doe noticed. He was waiting for her outside his dressing room. “You look troubled, my child,” he said, ushering her inside.

“I am, John. Look.” She opened her purse and pulled out a zipper sandwich bag. Inside was a home pregnancy test stick. The convincingly faked plus sign was easy for our cameras to record.

“What is that?” the Rev asked.

“One of those test strips you pee on,” Cho-cho answered.

Doe reared back, looking repulsed by the thing. Then he looked angry. “What are you trying to pull?”

“What do you mean, John?”

“You're a college girl. I thought all college girls were on birth control.”

“I thought maybe you had a vasectomy, since you didn't say anything about condoms,” Cho-cho whispered.

“Why would I have had surgery? My wife is sixty years old, and we sleep in separate wings of the house! Contraception is the woman's responsibility!” he thundered. “You foul, sinning slut! You whore around with every guy on campus, I bet, and now you come to me?”

“John, no!” She began to cry. “No! It's not like that at all! You're the only man I've been with in like, a really, really long time!”

“You're blaming this devil's spawn on me? Oh no, oh no, wait! It was only a couple of days ago. You're not pinning this on me.”

“It has to be you,” she blubbered. “This is Sunday. The first time we made love was Friday night, nine days ago. I'm pretty regular with my period. I should have gotten it the next day or the day after that. I was so caught up in what we did that I didn't even think about the fact that we didn't use protection until I was driving home, but then I realized I was ready for my period, so I prayed for forgiveness and to not be pregnant. But I am.”

“You can't be! Not to me!” Doe yelled.

“I didn't feel good on Monday. I woke up sick, actually threw up, but then I felt okay and went to class and everything. I didn't feel like eating lunch, but I forced myself, and I felt much better. I was okay after dinner, too, but as soon as I went to bed, the nausea started. I WAS sick when I called you Wednesday.”

“You can't do a pregnancy test that soon,” the Rev stated.

“Yes, you can. I looked it up. Read this.” She pulled some folded papers out of her purse.

John glanced at them, and then tossed them on the table next to him. “What do you want? What do you expect me to do? I'm not going to leave my wife and marry you, you whore.”

MB folded herself into a little ball on the bed and cried. I was considering breaking my own first rule as The Fixer: Never initiate a physical confrontation with the mark. In other words, don't hit first. I really wanted to break that rule, because I really wanted to break Doe's nose.

MB sat up, her hair and clothes disheveled, her eye make-up running. “I don't want to marry you, okay?” she shouted. “I just want you to help me. I don't know what to do.” Then she dissolved into sobs again.

Doe watched her for a moment. Then he said, “All right, all right. Here are some tissues. Clean yourself up.” He sat on a chair across from her. “What do you need? Do you want to raise this child? Are you prepared to raise it alone, dealing with the disadvantage it was at from the moment of conception? We talked about that.”

“I'm not ready to raise a child. That was supposed to be years away for me,” she said.

“Are you prepared to bear this child and then give it away?” the Rev asked.

“I don't know. John, what should I do?”

“You need to see a doctor. This doctor,” Doe said.

She read the business card he had handed her. “Who is he?”

“A friend. We go back a long way. Call him tomorrow, tell his secretary that the Rev sent you. They'll see you and take care of everything. I'll send him the money.”

“What do you mean when you say they'll take care of everything?” Cho-cho asked.

“Wait for it,” Monica whispered on our open feed.

“They'll take care of you. They'll make you as comfortable as possible while they deal with your problem,” Doe said.

“Deal with my problem,” Cho-cho repeated.

“Yes, you stupid little slut! Your problem, with that accursed child in your filthy womb. They're very competent at abortions.”

“Abortions?” Cho-cho gasped.

“Yes! Abortions! What did you think I was going to suggest you do, you idiot? Go there and let them get rid of it. I'll pay for everything, with one hundred thousand dollars on top of it if you will just go away,” Doe said.

“That's a wrap, gang! I love it when a plan comes together.” I said. A few seconds later, MB started to laugh when she heard the knock on the dressing room door.

* * * * * * * * * *

“For the latest on this breaking story, we go to our man on the scene,” the news anchorwoman said. “Hymie?”

“Thanks, Madelyn. Good evening, this is Hymie Goldblatt, reporting live across the road from the entrance to 'God's Land', the compound which until last week was the home of televangelist John Doe and his wife. That was before scandalous information was leaked from an anonymous source casting some doubt on Doe's character.

“You see behind me a number of moving vans exiting the compound. This comes on the heels of the explosive events of yesterday when Missy Doe, Reverend Doe's wife of thirty years, appeared on stage during a live broadcast of Does' ministry to accuse him of infidelity and demand a divorce. We have heard unconfirmed reports that Mrs. Doe, who actually owns this property and the studios where Doe's weekly telecast is filmed, has been speaking with realtors about the possibility of listing them for sale.”

“Thank you, Hymie,” the anchorwoman said. “We'll have more news, after this message.”
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