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Tell Me About Michael

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“Tell me more about Michael.” A splash, almost defiant.

“You’re here with me. Ask me to tell you about me.” He moved to the back of the hot tub, defensive and guarded. This chick was focused, and not on a subordinate. She wanted the real deal.

“I don’t wanna know about you. I wanna know about Michael. What makes him tick.. Why he’s so untouchable. You work with him – you know this stuff, right? You know his mind.”

Honey, no one knows Michael’s mind. Aloud, he said, “Does this mean I’m not gonna get lucky tonight?”

Not expecting an answer, he was surprised to hear her response. “No. You’ll get lucky, one way or another. Let’s just say you’ll get more lucky if you tell me what I wanna know.”

Shit. “Okay. Michael’s damaged. He was married, in Section. His wife was killed. Now, he’s with Nikita. I don’t know how deep it goes. I don’t even know if they’re doing it. All I know is that you don’t wanna get in between them. They’re thick as thieves.”

Deep sigh. A splash, and Viscano was straddling him, seeking him with a hunger for which he hadn’t been prepared. He was frighteningly hard, instantly. Maybe it had been the talk about Michael. Or Michael and Nikita.

Viscano rode him hard, and he surrendered. A little information for a lot of action. Small trade. As he climaxed, Davenport thought, Jesus, I’m a whore. I sold Michael out for a piece of ass.

He had no idea what price he would eventually pay for his indiscretion.