Page 3 of Tristano

“Don’t lie to me. I think it’s hot that you like taboo girls. Tell me the truth. Am I the only one?”

He shakes his head no. I smack him a little, making him jump.

“Verbal responses, daddy. I like hearing your voice,” I coo at him.

“No. You’re not the only one.”

“How old was the youngest?” I murmur, moving in to kiss his cheek.

“Fourteen,” he pants.

“Tell me about her. What was her name? How did she look?”

He grunts as he picks up the pace of his jerking. “Adalyn. She was a gorgeous blonde-haired girl. She was like you. She had issues with her parents and rebelled a lot. She liked spending my money almost as much as she liked swallowing my cock.”

“What happened to her, daddy?”

He groans, “She turned eighteen.”

That’s the kicker, isn’t it? He only likes them until they are legal. Adalyn wasn’t his first victim. She was a bright young girl who did like to rebel, but she didn’t know that accepting money from the mayor would lead to her nightmare. She never wanted a sexual relationship with him. He made her feel like she had no choice. With his position and power, her family was too afraid to go against him when she finally admitted it after he stopped messing with her.

Men like him are despicable.

Before I can say another word, there’s a knock at the window.

“Go away!” Edgar calls out, continuing to stroke himself.

Then the red and blue lights turn on, making him freeze.

I play my part well.

“Edgar? Oh god. I can’t be caught with you like this. They will kill me. Edgar, what do we do?” I ask frantically.

He pushes me back, pulling at his pants. “Sit in your seat and keep quiet. I’ll handle this.”

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Of course he thinks he can control this. He’s the mayor of his city. Only we aren’t in Newark, and his corruption has been well-documented. Fucker is about to be in jail for the foreseeable future.

I keep quiet as he manages to zip his pants before opening his window.

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” Edgar asks, his voice hinting at none of the anger he had prior to opening the window.

“License and registration,” my handler, Ricky, demands.

Edgar hands over the information as Ricky plays his own role, calling in the license with dispatch.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Edgar finally breaks.

“Did you see the name? Do you know who I am? This is ridiculous. You need to give me my shit back and go back to doing actual police work.”

“Excuse me, sir?” Ricky asks, seemingly surprised.

He’s not. We planned this. I learned from my time with Edgar that he hates being looked over. He thrives on the attention his position gives him. So having someone ignore him is burning his ass.

“You heard me. I’m the mayor of Newark. I could have your job for this, son.”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to get out of the vehicle.”

Edgar is turning red now. “What? Why?”

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