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Message-ID: <28660asstr$980957403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: jimmy@jimmy-hat.com (Jimmy Hat)
Subject: {ASSM} Maytag Earns a C-Note by Jimmy Hat
Date: Wed, 31 Jan 2001 11:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Maytag Earns a C-Note
Copyright 2001 by Jimmy Hat


Maytag: Yes, I'm calling about the contest. 

Woman: Of course you are, sweetie. Why don't we get started. 

Maytag: I don't think you understand. I am Special Agent Gerald
Maytag of the FBI. 

Woman: Oooh, that's a new one. I like the whole position of
authority thing. Keep going. 

Maytag: I think there's a misunderstanding, ma'am. I really am
with the FBI. 

Woman: And I'm really with that voice. You're getting me warm,
Agent Maytag. 

Maytag: You like my voice? 

Woman: Sure do. 

Maytag: Ahem. Thank you, Ms. Bartlett. If we could just get back
to taking about the contest. 

Ms. Bartlett: You're doing well so far. How do you know my name? 

Maytag: I checked with the phone company before calling you,
ma'am. 

Ms. Bartlett: Polite, too. If you know my name you might as well
call me Angie. 

Maytag: All right, Angie. 

Ms. Bartlett: What else do you know about me? Do you know what
color underwear I have on? 

Maytag: That's not why I called, Angie. 

Ms. Bartlett: What do you mean? 

Maytag: I mean I'm not interested in that sort of thing. 

Ms. Bartlett: What sort of thing? 

Maytag: The color of your underwear. 

Ms. Bartlett: You're not gay, are you, Agent Maytag? 

Maytag: My sexual orientation isn't at issue here, Ms. Bartlett.
I want to ask you a few questions about your contest. 

Ms. Bartlett: Well, why don't you start by asking me about my
panties? I mean, how often do you talk to a woman on the phone
who is interested in telling you about her panties? 

Maytag: You'd be surprised. 

Ms. Bartlett: Oooh! Do tell, Agent Maytag! 

Maytag: I'd rather we talk about you and your contest. 

Ms. Bartlett: That's what I was trying to do, but you said you
weren't interested in that sort of thing. 

Maytag: I'm interested in the contest itself, not participating. 

Ms. Bartlett: That's a shame, because you're doing well. Are you
sure you can turn down a shot at a thousand dollars, Agent
Maytag? How much does the FBI pay you? 

Maytag: Again, that's not at issue here. Could we get back to the
contest? 

Ms. Bartlett: Gladly. Black. 

Maytag: I beg your pardon? 

Ms. Bartlett: Black. My underwear is black. I know that sounds
pretty ordinary, but the color isn't the interesting thing about
this underwear, the size is. This thing is so narrow in front,
sometimes I can't tell which way to wear it. I wanted to wear it
today and I had to shave so it wouldn't look silly. I wound up
trimming so much down there that I just decided to hell with it
and I shaved it down bald. Now that thin black strip doesn't look
so silly. Are you still with me, Agent Maytag? 

Maytag: Yes, I am. 

Ms. Bartlett: Because you've gotten awfully quiet. 

Maytag: I'm simply being patient and waiting to get this
conversation back on track. 

Ms. Bartlett: I thought it was getting on track quite nicely, and
now I'm starting to get a little impatient. You're a little
tease, Agent Maytag. Did you know that? 

Maytag: Ms. Bartlett, have you done work in the phone sex
industry in the past? 

Ms. Bartlett: Mmm-hmm. Talk so hot, you'd swear my tongue
actually came through the phone line and licked you in the ear. 

Maytag: And you've had some financial success in the industry? 

Ms. Bartlett: I'm good at what I do, Agent Maytag. And I go that
extra step. I had a regular once, a guy who called me a lot. He
liked to call me at lunch from his office. We did a lot of
fantasy sessions where I played his secretary; he liked high
heels, black coffee, and blow jobs. One time we got to talking
about my underwear, just like the two of us are doing now. He
came faster than usual, so I guessed I found something he liked.
Then I got this idea. We had talked so much about him, and his
job, and where he worked that I knew exactly where he was. I had
a little package delivered to him the next day. He walked into
his office after some meeting and it was there on his desk. It
was labeled CONFIDENTIAL, and had my fictional secretary name,
Ms. Murphy, on the return address. That must have gotten his
blood going. Then he ripped open the padded envelope and found a
pair of panties just like the ones we talked about the day
before. He told me that his dick almost poked through his pants.
He whipped it out and only managed two strokes before he came. He
tried to catch his cum with my little Ms. Murphy panties, but he
missed; it wound up shooting all over some financial report.
Can't blame him, really; those panties didn't have a whole lot of
material to stop anything. Poor guy had to ask for a new copy
from his accounting department. Said he spilled coffee on it.
Agent Maytag? 

Maytag: Yes? 

Ms. Bartlett: When you come, what little FBI report are you going
to have to get a new copy of? 

Maytag: Ms. Murphy, if we could just get back to the contest. 

Ms. Bartlett: Oh, I think we're in the contest now, for sure,
Agent Maytag. You just called me Ms. Murphy. 

Maytag: That was a mistake. 

Ms. Bartlett: Sure it was. Do you have a secretary, Agent Maytag?
Would you like one? I could do that for you. Stalk through your
office in tight skirts, black panty hose with a thick black seam
running along the back of my legs to make them look longer. Do
you drink coffee, Agent Maytag? 

Maytag: Yes. 

Ms. Bartlett: Do you like blow jobs, Agent Maytag? 

Maytag: I like my job, Ms. Bartlett, and if you'd allow me, I
could continue to do it. 

Ms. Bartlett: What exactly is your job, Agent Maytag? Calling up
phone sex contests to see if they're legitimate? 

Maytag: In a manner of speaking, yes. Is your contest legitimate? 

Ms. Bartlett: Of course. I like my job, too, Agent Maytag. Only I
got tired of hearing clicks right after guys came, just when I
was getting into it. 

Maytag: Even with regulars like your office friend? 

Ms. Bartlett: He was different. But he stopped calling. So I set
up the contest. The caller that gets me off the best in any month
wins a hundred dollars. The best one this year takes home a
thousand. 

Maytag: And your proof that you really give this money away? 

Ms. Bartlett: This was getting to be such an interesting
conversation, Agent Maytag, and now you're in danger of ruining
it. 

Maytag: It was never meant to be interesting. 

Ms. Bartlett: Those are the best kind. 

Maytag: I'm beginning to believe that. 

Ms. Bartlett: Oh, goody. There's hope for you yet. To answer your
question, this phone line and the contest is run by my company,
Angie Bartlett Home Enterprises. There are records of everything.
I keep winners' identities secret if they prefer, but an outside
auditor who looks at my books knows who the winners are. They
vouch for me. 

Maytag: These auditors are compensated? 

Ms. Bartlett: Agent Maytag, are you insinuating that I trade
sexual favors for their work? 

Maytag: No. Not at all. Honestly, I'm just checking to see if you
paid them. 

Ms. Bartlett: Of course I pay them. They're accountants, they
wouldn't go for the sex anyway. I just thought I'd try to steer
us back the other way. You're a different story, though, aren't
you, Agent Maytag? How about it? If my contest were a fraud,
would you accept sexual favors to keep it quiet? 

Maytag: Ms. Bartlett, you're coming close to offering a bribe to
a federal officer. 

Ms. Bartlett: And you're nowhere near close to answering my
question. What would it take, Agent Maytag? Hypothetically. I
don't actually want to get in twubble wid da guvwuhment. But
there must be something I could do for you. I have a nasty
imagination and very few inhibitions. 

Maytag: I have no doubt about that. 

Ms. Bartlett: I know your type. This whole reluctance thing is a
sham, just like your phony FBI routine. 

Maytag: Ms. Bartlett...

Ms. Bartlett: You know what you want, but you won't go after it.
Even if it's right in front of you. You wait for it to come to
you. And you're so eager for that fantasy that you'll slide into
just about any temptation that comes along. Just a little
arm-twisting is all it takes. Is that how you want it? I could
twist your arm behind your back and force you to your knees. Then
I'd push my stiletto heel against your chest and twist it until
you gasped. And through the pain, you wouldn't want me to stop
because you're too damn busy staring up at this thin strip of
black cotton covering my bald pussy. 

Maytag: Please, Ms. Bartlett...

Ms. Bartlett: That's right, beg! You can't even finish the
sentence. You can't ask me to stop because you don't want me to.
You want that heel in your chest, and on your back. You want to
lick my heel, and my shoe, and my foot, and all the way up to my
bald cunt. Don't you, Agent Maytag? That's your game, Agent
Maytag, playing dumb and letting things just happen. Your tongue
would be licking my ass and you would still honestly believe
"that it just happened." You want me to make you get your hands
off whatever imaginary files you're shuffling there on the desk,
whatever work you're pretending to do and shove it into your
pants so you can jerk off. Your cock is getting rock hard just
thinking about it. Isn't it? Answer me! 

Maytag: I can't. 

Ms. Bartlett: Why not? We're adults. We both want it. I want to
grind my heel on your back. I want you to smother your face with
my pussy. And you love to hear me talking like a filthy slut. I'm
soaking wet over here. So admit it! This is why you're on the
phone. Now reach down and stroke that fucking cock. Talk dirty to
me. 

Maytag: That won't happen, Ms. Bartlett. 

Ms. Bartlett: Give in! Grab that thing and whack it! Whoa, what
was that? 

Maytag: What? 

Ms. Bartlett: That voice. A woman's voice. 

Maytag: That was just another agent, Ms. Bartlett. 

Ms. Bartlett: You're not alone? 

Maytag: No. Agent Stanton is in the room with me. 

Ms. Bartlett: She's not on the phone, is she? 

Maytag: No. Everything OK, Ms. Bartlett? 

Ms. Bartlett: You aren't making this FBI thing up? 

Maytag: No, I'm not. I apologize for the misunderstanding. 

Ms. Bartlett: I've been talking like this to a real G-man? 

Maytag: Yes, you have. 

Ms. Bartlett: With other G-men around? I mean G-women? 

Maytag: Just the one. 

Ms. Bartlett: Oh. Can I ask you something? 

Maytag: Of course. 

Ms. Bartlett: What does she look like? 

Maytag: What? 

Ms. Bartlett: You heard me, what does she look like? 

Maytag: Ms. Bartlett, if I could just have the name of the
auditor, you can get back to your work. 

Ms. Bartlett: You surprised me there for a second, but now I am
back to work. Is your dick hard, Agent Maytag? I bet it is. I was
talking that whole time, and you were so quiet with your partner
in the room with you. You must have been ready to cream right in
your pants and there was nothing you could do about it. Oh, fuck,
Maytag, I can't diddle myself fast enough, I'm so fucking hot. 

Maytag: The name, Ms. Bartlett. 

Ms. Bartlett: Not yet! You let me go on like that, you must be
enjoying yourself. You haven't stopped me. Just let me get off. 

Maytag: I just need the proof of legitimacy. 

Ms. Bartlett: You'll get it when you hear me moan like an alley
cat in heat, Maytag. Oooh, yeah. 

Maytag: Please, Ms. Bartlett, let's continue. 

Ms. Bartlett: Oh, yes, let's! 

Maytag: Men call you in an effort to get you off. 

Ms. Bartlett: Mmmm, yes. 

Maytag: I can only assume there's masturbation involved. 

Ms. Bartlett: Yes, keep talking, you fucking stud! 

Ms. Bartlett: Ms. Bartlett, if you can't answer some simple
questions, Agent Stanton and I are going to have to pay you a
visit and teach you that we're not fooling. 

Ms. Bartlett: I'm so close! 

Maytag: We'll cuff you and strong arm you and work you over until
we get what we want. 

Ms. Bartlett: I want it. I wahhhnnt it. I...I...aaayyyy... 

Maytag: Please hold. 

Ms. Bartlett: Wait! Wait! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? 

Stanton: Hello! 

Ms. Bartlett: Who is this? 

Stanton: This is Special Agent Stanton, who is this? 

Ms. Bartlett: Angie Bartlett. I was speaking with Agent Maytag. 

Stanton: I saw that. He just left the room, and he looked to be
in some kind of hurry. What's going on here? 

Ms. Bartlett: I have something that Agent Maytag wants. 

Stanton: Yes, and what's that? 

Ms. Bartlett: Some proof of legitimacy. I can send it to him.
Could I ask for your address? 

Stanton: Yes, but is this something that needs to be mailed? 

Ms. Bartlett: Well, I can't send a check over the phone. 

Stanton: Check? 

Ms. Bartlett: Well he wanted some proof of legitimacy, and he
certainly earned it. 

Stanton: Great. Should I give you the address now? 

Ms. Bartlett: Please. One last thing: does Agent Maytag open his
own mail? I thought I might include something personal. 

Stanton: Our mail goes through an examination process before
delivery, but it involves x-ray machines, gas chromatography, and
so on. It's non-intrusive. But, Ms. Bartlett, mail sent here is
property of the FBI. There's no guarantee that others won't see
it. If it involves a case, for instance, I'll almost certainly
see it. 

Ms. Bartlett: Oh, it's worth taking a chance. I'll just label the
envelope "CONFIDENTIAL". 

-- 
No monkeys were harmed in the making of this .sig.

http://www.jimmy-hat.com/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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