The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 26

Saturday had finally arrived, and with Ava having mysteriously disappeared from the picture, Frank again followed his routine—shower, breakfast, books. The air still filled with the chill of January, and Frank, as on so many other days, was forced to wear clothing typical of winters in the Midwest. He

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always studied the most complicated subject first. This seemed to prime his brain for subjects that were easier to grasp. This particular subject was the First Amendment, and the more he studied it, the more complex it became. He had begun researching it for his paper, but seeing how a few simple lines in the constitution had become so complicated by court rulings and legal precedents, he began to have his doubts. Perhaps he should have chosen a topic that was easier to understand, but its submission to his instructor had already been approved, and asking for a different topic might make him appear fearful of the complexity inherent in law. While he felt he had nothing to prove to the instructor, he had everything to prove to himself. So while the saying goes, ‘shit or get off the pot’, Frank metaphorically chose the former.

With the arrival of noon, Frank decided to heed the call of his growling stomach, and putting his studies on hold, fed the beast that was only growing louder. Breakfast was usually brief, but it was lunch that he chose for his indulgences—a hamburger with cheese, a beer, home fries straight from the oven, and sour cream on the side. To anyone else it didn’t seem like much, but to a college student on a budget, it was a meal fit for a king. As soon as the meal was finished, he cleaned the dishes, returning them to their usual place, and without the slightest break got back to his studies. He set the alarm on his phone for three thirty to miss his date with Betsy. He wasn’t even certain it was a date, considering they would likely just be talking.

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Time flew by as Frank delved deeper into his less favorite subject as he traced the evolution of free speech. The founding fathers established it as the cornerstone of the country, yet if one makes a lengthy examination of its legalities, the conclusion is clear that free speech isn’t exactly free. With his head throbbing from so much information, his mind was interrupted by the alarm he'd set over three hours ago. Turning off its annoying sound, he marked his place in the books he was reading and organized them on the desk. When it came to studying, Frank did so with a craving for order, and it was the only part of his life he felt should have order. Everything else can go to hell, but studying always requires order. He firmly believed that a well-ordered environment creates a well-ordered mind.

Now that he was finished for the day, Frank threw on his winter coat and headed out to Betsy’s apartment. Locking the door behind him, he wondered what had become of Ava. Her threatening behavior was unsettling enough, yet her sudden absence seemed nearly frightening. Over the last few weeks, he had learned to stay sharp, glancing over his shoulder every now and again only to find nothing. “What the fuck is she up to?” he wondered. Soon, he arrived at Betsy’s apartment, and like him, she lived on the second floor. Warm air generally rises, but during winter in DC there doesn’t seem to be enough warmth to rise. Thus, the harshness of winter in the DC area appeared to prove the laws of physics incorrect.

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Walking up the stairs, Frank stopped at the door and, with a bit of nervous energy, knocked quietly. The response was what sounded like bare feet rapidly moving across the floor. The doorknob spun counterclockwise, followed by the creak of poorly maintained hinges. Opening the door revealed Betsy in a light he was not accustomed to. She wore a tight pink bodycon dress deftly held up with spaghetti straps. His eyes opened with amazement as he noticed the absence of both pants lines and a bra, leaving nothing to the imagination. With only a small amount of force, the entire contraption could be pulled down and dropped to the floor. Frank examined her from head to toe as he stepped into her apartment. Betsy greeted him warmly as she stepped in, and putting her arms around his neck, she pressed her shapely body against him. Realizing that what she wore was all she wore, Frank, feeling the sensation of her body against his, caused him to momentarily lose touch with time as his mind drifted to places unknown.

His hands maintained contact with her hips as she backed up slightly and, looking into his eyes, asked for his thoughts.

“Well,” he began. “I don’t think I was expecting to see you like this. I mean, you’re gorgeous. There’s no question about that.”

Betsy returned his compliment with a gentle smile, and having already unzipped his winter coat, helped him out of it. Having done so, she had the opportunity to examine his physique and was particularly impressed by what she noticed below his

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belt. Inviting him in, Betsy motioned towards her couch.

“Have a seat,” she said.

Words could not express what thundered through his mind as he sat nervously on the soft cushion of her couch. Removing his coat, Betsy reached out and, taking it from him, hung it on a nearby coat tree, then returned, sitting almost too close. Although Ava was fairly aggressive, Frank was completely unprepared for what would soon begin as Betsy let a spaghetti strap fall from her shoulder. Quickly drawing his attention, he reached out a hand and gently caressed her from her ear down to her fingertips. He discovered that her ear was especially sensitive, causing a shiver to overwhelm her. Now, any chance of meaningful conversation had become nonexistent, as Betsy spoke in short breaths. “I was hoping we’d talk about the latest Supreme Court ruling,” she said. “But instead, I think I just want to fuck me.”

Having grown up in the Midwest, he was not accustomed to young women using such language. While small towns sometimes generate innocence, college, however, can strip one of that innocence.

Betsy suddenly threw herself at Frank, straddling him quickly enough that the skirt she wore began to tear up the middle. Frank tried to be a gentleman, bringing the damaged garment to her attention, but Betsy was having none of it.

“It’s a cheap dress,” she said. “You can rip it off the rest of the way if you want.”

Seeing the other spaghetti strap fall from her shoulder, Frank suddenly relented and, sacrificing

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his self-control, grabbed the hem of her skirt and with both hands ripped it all the way to the top. Betsy now straddled him with flawless skin, naked to his increasing arousal. Realizing how sensitive she was to touch he lightly ran the back of his fingers over her nipples. Responding immediately, she ached back, letting her hair fall as the muscles in her legs tightened.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

Moving his hands up to her shoulders, he deftly let his fingertips run down her back as her nail began digging into his chest. But when his hands reached her lower back, Betsy exploded with a sexual urge Frank had never witnessed.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she began. “Now take these clothes off and fuck me.”

Betsy didn’t wait for him to begin disrobing, and using her fingernails ripped into his shirt, exposing the well-toned musculature of his chest and abdomen. From there, she grabbed his belt buckle and wrestling it free pulled his exposed him completely. He asked if she wanted some help and was caught off guard by her response. “Fuck, no,” she replied. “I love this.” She sounded as though she had done this a few times already, but there was nothing wrong with being with an experienced woman. This would be a night Frank would never forget.

Not being required to assist her, Frank sat back on Betsy’s couch as she finished disrobing him, and with both of them now shimmering with sweat, Frank suggested they might turn off the light.

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“Not a chance,” she replied. “I like to see what I’m sucking.”

In a sudden change of mind, Betsy got up from the couch and, grabbing Frank’s hands, pulled him to his feet.

“We’re doing this on the floor?” he asked. With a gleam in her eyes, she suggested that might be an interesting idea, but what she had in mind was far more comfortable than the floor. Standing in the middle of her living room, Betsy lowered a caressing hand down and, using her fingertips, brought Frank to full arousal.

“No,” she replied. “We’re not going to fuck each other on the floor. We’re going to bed, and after what I’m going to do, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

Frank was unable to keep up as Betsy grabbed him by the hand and, pulling him into her bedroom, pushed him onto the bed. No sooner was he on his back than she again straddled him and, bending down, kissed him deeply on the mouth. Her kiss was so violent that for a brief moment she unknowingly bit his lip, bringing up a slight surge of blood. Seeing this only made her more aroused, and working her way down his body, discovered the goal of her momentary journey.

With Frank fully turgent, Betsy indulged herself by allowing her tongue to wander the length of his member and without warning took him into her warm mouth engulfing him completely. He let out a gasp as she watched his expression pleased with both the experience and the results. However, Betsy was far from finished and Frank was suddenly with the

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impression that she was definitely in charge of the night’s events. In time, she released him and lying back asked a teasing question.

“You want a turn?”

Frank knew exactly what she wanted and supposed that if anything good had come out of his brief time with Ava, it was her coaching. Although he possessed some knowledge of technique, experience would continue to be the best teacher.

Lying in his stomach, Frank positioned himself between Betsy’s open knees, and doing what Ava had instructed brought her to a sudden release. So intense was the experience that she covered her face with a pillow to muffle her unexpected screams. She wrapped her legs around his chest and, with toes curling, begged him to stop. Ignoring her words, Frank continued until Betsy mustered enough strength to push him away.

“Where the fuck did you learn to do that?” she asked.

Frank watched as she caught her breath, pleased with what he had accomplished, but the night was far from over. Now, having recovered, Betsy rolled over on him and, straddling his hips, looked into his eyes as she reached down and guided him into her warm, moist body. Pressing down, she buried him completely while watching his eyes roll back as his forehead broke into a sweat. If they had been playing a game of one-upmanship, Betsy was clearly in the lead. With her hands flat on Frank’s chest, she began rocking her hips back and forth, gliding up and down—never letting him slip out but almost, then slamming her hips down, bringing him to the edge of

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ecstasy. It was not long until Frank, bringing his hands down, clasped her hips and, assisting her motion, thrust himself into her—up from the bed and down. Time seemed to stop as both achieved release simultaneously experiencing the others' passion, their souls emerging, one entwining about the other.