anonymous
12-08-2007, 09:13 PM
Velocity (Chapter 1)
By: Ronin
Codes: (F/f, oral)
Celebrities: Ashley Tisdale, Brenda Song, Miley Cyrus
Feedback: Come on, you know us authors, we all want it. Be a pal and drop me a line. Trust me, I’ve been over this chapter quite a few times and I already know all the bad stuff you could say about it, so just let it out if you want. All e-mail should be sent to shadowsx19@yahoo.com Thanks
DISLAIMER: The material below contains graphic sexual situations unsuitable for minors. This story is completely fictional. None of the accounts herein have any grounds in real life. This story is a complete fabrication of my imagination and to our knowledge none of the celebrities within have ever participated in lewd activities. In fact, working for Disney, they’d better be gosh damn virgins.
Chapter 1
“We need help here, now! We’ve got officers down, I repeat, officers down! We’re pinned by heavy fire, send backup immediately!” The uniform officer yelled as loud as he could into his radio to be heard over the cacophony of automatic weapon fire all around him.
Just twenty minutes earlier, the department had dispatched units to the Miami District Bank in regards to the activation of the silent alarm within. Within seconds of entering the building one officer was dead and one other was badly wounded, just able to reach his squad car to call for backup. In moments the streets of downtown Miami were filled with the static sounds of gunfire.
The men holed up inside the bank were highly ruthless and heavily armed thieves that had been interrupted in the execution of their heist by the officers. Armed with Kalashnikov rifles and Israeli made Uzi submachine guns, they began a blitzkrieg attack through the windows of the bank, dropping cops left and right. The officers were armed with a few shotguns and one rifle, but nowhere near the firepower needed to defeat the body armor of the thugs.
Back at the station, the brass were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. No one said anything, but they were all wondering if the mayor had gotten news of the catastrophe yet. Sergeant Randall barked orders left and right. “Aren’t there any other units out there we can send? Talk to me people! Where’s our SWAT Team from Central?”
“Sir!” Some pencil pusher with Coke bottle glasses spoke up and pointed to the map of downtown displayed on the big screen in the command room. “We have a man en route right now! He should be there in no time.”
“One man? Who the hell would----oh shit, not him.”
------
Officially, he was a detective, but unofficially he was a member of a special task force gathered to actively engage some of Miami’s most heinous criminal element. Unfortunately, he was the last of the group remaining alive, and even more unfortunately, he had a big problem with authority. It was a hell of a good thing that he was the best man with a gun anyone on the force had ever seen.
He sped toward the bank on a department sanctioned motorcycle he’d customized himself, adding raw power and increased torque to an already solid machine. He carried twin Beretta 93R machine pistols in drop-leg holsters. At the small of his back rested a Sig-Sauer P228 chambered for the performance proven .40-caliber cartridge, and strapped tightly to his armored vest in a quick-detach rig was a Heckler and Koch MP-5K submachine gun, one of the smallest of its kind.
Through the radio microphone in his helmet he’d heard the dispatcher’s tinny voice informing all units that the SWAT team from Central Command had been involved in a wreck on the way to the bank, which meant that for quite some time, the rest of the guys were going to be in deep shit. Already flying down the city streets, Detective Wesley Tracer kicked it up another notch, weaving in and out of traffic like a lunatic.
“Hang on, guys.” He said to himself.
------
“Damn it!” An officer screamed as a high velocity rifle round ripped through his leg. The cops were still firing, but ammo was running low and many were wounded, some dead. They lay bleeding on the asphalt, waiting for any EMT brave enough to enter and fray and drag them to an ambulance.
One cop was screaming into his radio when he heard a high pitched whine coming from some direction he couldn’t pinpoint. He thought for a moment that Central had managed to get another SWAT team out to them, but it seemed unlikely.
Then, the creator of the sound revealed itself. The shiny turbo-charged motorcycle rounded a street corner a block away and sped toward the bank. One of the police cars being used as a barricade out front was angled with the nose pointed toward the building the rear facing the direction from whence the bike was coming.
“Hey, it’s Wes! What the--oh shit! Get clear! He’s gonna jump the fucker!”
Tracer raced forward, popping the front wheel of the bike as he hit the back of the cruiser. He rose up and sped along the roof of the car, ending in a grand launch off the front end…straight through what was left of one of the front windows of the bank!
------
Wes hit the linoleum inside and spun the cycle, skidding across the floor sideways. He spotted two of the thugs standing atop the front desk and pulled the Beretta from his right hip. He sighted them and swept the machine-pistol, spitting a wall of hot lead that cut them both down in the blink of an eye. The bike began losing momentum as he approached the desk, and before he hit it he shifted his weight and kicked off the bike, throwing himself behind the desk.
It wasn’t the best cover, but it was working well enough as men on each side of the bank opened fire on his position, sending papers and plaster and bits of pinewood flying into the air. Wes unclipped a flash-bang grenade from his belt and tossed it into the front area of the bank. In seconds a deafening boom filled the building along with flashes of blinding light. The automatic fire from the bad guys suddenly stopped.
Wes rose from behind the front desk, Beretta in one hand and HK in the other, sweeping his guns along both sides of the building. He blew away three of the masked men as they rubbed their eyes or struggled to reload their weapons. One of them he hadn’t seen rushed him from the side. He sent a high side-kick rocketing into the guy’s chin, knocking him cold.
“Drop the goddamn guns or she dies, man! Drop ‘em now!” The last robber had pulled a woman from the floor and held a pistol to her head. He stood in the center of the bank, yelling his orders to Tracer. Wes stepped forward, trying to pacify the man. He got within ten feet and threw both his weapons down. The robber was stupid however, he tracked the movement of the guns across the ground, taking his eyes off the deadliest man in the room.
Wes pulled the Sig from the small of his back and fired. The bullet opened a neat little hole in the robber’s forehead and rocketed out the back, taking most of his skull with it. The woman fell to the ground, crying.
------
From a private jet flying 11,000 feet above sea level, Ashley Tisdale looked down upon the lovely landscape of southern Miami. Hills and neighborhoods with pools in every backyard spread below them, and out to the side the Atlantic ocean lay blue and shimmering. It was going to be a great trip, she was sure of it. She was still riding out the success of the recently released High School Musical with teen heartthrobs Zac Efron and Vanessa Anne Hudgens. She only hoped her career could be based on bigger things while at the same time continuing to bring as much publicity and profit.
Also on the plane was Miley Cyrus, daughter of former country musician Billy Ray Cyrus and brand new teen queen on the Disney payroll, as well as the lovely Asian, Brenda Song. Brenda played alongside Maddie as London Tipton in The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. They were all good friends and Ashley enjoyed their company a great deal. Currently, however, they each had their own things going on. Brenda was talking to her agent on her cell phone and Miley was listening to her iPod while downloading some new tunes.
Ashley turned away and continued reading their briefing for the trip. Disney was throwing a So Hot Summer concert bash and several stars were going to be there. Of course Miley would be performing as her television alter ego Hannah Montana, and it was said that Ashlee Simpson and maybe even the Cheetah Girls were going to make an appearance. It was sure to be a great few days of interviews and parties and lounging on the beach and entertaining the fans. Still, it was tiring work, and Ashley only hoped she had the energy to hold out.
“Hey guys, when--guys?” Ashley turned to speak to Miley and Brenda, only to find that they were both gone.
------
They were in the bathroom of the jet. Brenda was softly kissing Miley’s sweet soft lips and running her hands through the girl’s hair.
“I’ve been waiting so long to get you alone again.” Brenda whispered into Miley’s ear.
“I know. It’s been so hard not being able to touch you. I’ve been thinking of this for weeks.”
The two looked longingly into each other’s eyes. Miley began moving her hand slowly down Brenda’s chest, past her stomach, and finally the special place.
“Mm, yeah, that’s it.” Brenda cooed to her young protégé as Miley rubbed the sweet spot between the older girl’s legs, making her warm and wet. The bathroom in the private jet was beautifully furnished, and much bigger than most, but still just a tiny bit cramped for two people. That wasn’t really much of a problem for them, however, as what they were doing required close quarters.
Brenda was only wearing a thin black top and pink miniskirt, making it extremely simple for the young Miley to get at her warm slit through her panties. Brenda put her back against the wall and lifted one leg, propping it up on the sink on the other side. She held the younger girl close and pulled down the straps of her shirt to free her wonderful caramel colored tits.
“Mm, I love your boobs, Brenda.” Miley said. She lowered her head and took one dark chocolate colored nipple into her mouth, suckling like candy while she looked up at Brenda with her wide, puppy dog eyes.
“I know, baby. I love it when you suck my titties. I feels so good. Oh, rub me faster, hon.”
Down below, Miley had moved the thin fabric of Brenda’s panties to the side and was running her fingers up and down her labia, feeling the warmth and smoothness of the wonderful opening. She slowly slipped one, then two fingers inside.
“Oh, yeah. Fuck me with your hot little fingers.” Brenda told the girl. Miley let the spit covered nip slide out of her mouth and rose to meet the lovely Asian’s lips. Their tongues twirled and intertwined in passion.
Brenda pulled back. “I want you to make me feel good, baby. I’m so wet. Eat me, eat my pussy.”
“I love it when you talk all dirty to me. Nobody knows we’re such hot little Disney sluts.”
“I know baby. Do it for me, tongue my twat.”
Miley lowered herself to her knees and made one long lick up Brenda’s sweet pussy before sliding her tongue inside. She began moving her head back and forth, fucking Brenda with her tongue.
“Mm, oh yeah, oh yeah. Do it, Miley. Do it to me.”
“Come for me, Brenda. Come all over my sweet little face.”
“Keep eating me like that and I’ll squirt all over you, you fucking cunt.”
Miley was working her tongue furiously, she moved a finger back and began slowly running rings around the puckered hole of Brenda’s ass, teasing the girl to squeal in delight. She then began pumping her fingers into Brenda while she sealed her lips around the swollen clit and sucked with all she had.
“Oh yes! Fuck! I’m…fuck…I’m coming you hot bitch!” She whispered loudly, trying not to scream. Ashley didn’t yet know of the sexual things that went on around the sets of the Disney Channel shows, and she didn’t want to freak her out and scare her away. They’d initiate her, of course, but in time.
She bucked against the younger girl’s face and set quick little jets of her fluid flying past her lips and down her throat. When it was over, Miley leaned back and smiled, her chin glistening with fresh girl-juice.
Before she could speak, however, they heard a familiar ding and looked up to see the sign urging them to return to their seats. It must have been time to land.
“Darn! I don’t get mine.”
“Later, sweetie. Later.”
They smiled and shared one last kiss before wiping off and heading out, they’d have to come up with some lie to tell Ashley to cover themselves.
------
“This is bullshit, Terry.”
Wesley Tracer sat in Sergeant Terrance Randall’s office. Apparently, there had been some rather severe repercussions from his involvement in the shoot-out at the bank. It seems that for some strange reason, the people in charge didn’t like it when all the bad guys died.
“I know, Wes. Believe me, I’ve been fighting this, but it’s not going to stop them from terminating the task force. You’re a great friend and a hell of a cop, but the politicians just don’t like you. They want you to think about resigning, or going to a desk.”
“I’ve got a great deal of respect for guys who do the paper work, but you know I can’t do that. I’m a street detective. Three years on the Miami SWAT team, a year and a half doing undercover work, and now the task force, which I think was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had, and they want me off the force? Or out of the way, which is about the same thing.”
“Look. Maybe you can do something else until this whole thing blows over, ya know? Sit down and solve some old cases, or take some down time.”
“Come on, Terry. This work is my life. I mean, it’s not like I can’t do anything other than police work, God knows I hate the politics, but I need something that’ll keep me sharp. I don’t want to go back to being a bouncer or teaching self-defense.”
“Okay, okay. Hey, you’re a young guy. You can do some security work for this big concert thing their doing down at the beach. You can take get out, get some sun, maybe even get laid.”
Wes gave him a stern look, “Terry.”
Terry raised his hands defensively. “Or not, whatever you choose to do, but there are going to be some nice looking young girls down there.”
“What’s this whole thing about, anyway.”
“I don’t know. Some summer concert tour for the Disney Channel.”
“Jesus Terry! If that’s what you mean by young you can count me out!”
“Wes, you know it’s not just going to be teenagers. If there’s sun and music, the older ones will be there, too. Besides, you’re only twenty-two. You need to loosen up a bit.”
“I like being uptight, keeps the reflexes quick.”
“Anyway, if you want the job, they could use some extra security. If not, go home and get some rest.”
Wes thought about it for a moment. Young stars were always in some kind of danger, weren’t they? Maybe it wouldn’t be just another routine gig after all. Who new, he could end up taking out some dangerous stalker or preventing a massive attack on the concert.
He looked up at his commanding officer and friend. “I’ll take it.”
By: Ronin
Codes: (F/f, oral)
Celebrities: Ashley Tisdale, Brenda Song, Miley Cyrus
Feedback: Come on, you know us authors, we all want it. Be a pal and drop me a line. Trust me, I’ve been over this chapter quite a few times and I already know all the bad stuff you could say about it, so just let it out if you want. All e-mail should be sent to shadowsx19@yahoo.com Thanks
DISLAIMER: The material below contains graphic sexual situations unsuitable for minors. This story is completely fictional. None of the accounts herein have any grounds in real life. This story is a complete fabrication of my imagination and to our knowledge none of the celebrities within have ever participated in lewd activities. In fact, working for Disney, they’d better be gosh damn virgins.
Chapter 1
“We need help here, now! We’ve got officers down, I repeat, officers down! We’re pinned by heavy fire, send backup immediately!” The uniform officer yelled as loud as he could into his radio to be heard over the cacophony of automatic weapon fire all around him.
Just twenty minutes earlier, the department had dispatched units to the Miami District Bank in regards to the activation of the silent alarm within. Within seconds of entering the building one officer was dead and one other was badly wounded, just able to reach his squad car to call for backup. In moments the streets of downtown Miami were filled with the static sounds of gunfire.
The men holed up inside the bank were highly ruthless and heavily armed thieves that had been interrupted in the execution of their heist by the officers. Armed with Kalashnikov rifles and Israeli made Uzi submachine guns, they began a blitzkrieg attack through the windows of the bank, dropping cops left and right. The officers were armed with a few shotguns and one rifle, but nowhere near the firepower needed to defeat the body armor of the thugs.
Back at the station, the brass were running around like chickens with their heads cut off. No one said anything, but they were all wondering if the mayor had gotten news of the catastrophe yet. Sergeant Randall barked orders left and right. “Aren’t there any other units out there we can send? Talk to me people! Where’s our SWAT Team from Central?”
“Sir!” Some pencil pusher with Coke bottle glasses spoke up and pointed to the map of downtown displayed on the big screen in the command room. “We have a man en route right now! He should be there in no time.”
“One man? Who the hell would----oh shit, not him.”
------
Officially, he was a detective, but unofficially he was a member of a special task force gathered to actively engage some of Miami’s most heinous criminal element. Unfortunately, he was the last of the group remaining alive, and even more unfortunately, he had a big problem with authority. It was a hell of a good thing that he was the best man with a gun anyone on the force had ever seen.
He sped toward the bank on a department sanctioned motorcycle he’d customized himself, adding raw power and increased torque to an already solid machine. He carried twin Beretta 93R machine pistols in drop-leg holsters. At the small of his back rested a Sig-Sauer P228 chambered for the performance proven .40-caliber cartridge, and strapped tightly to his armored vest in a quick-detach rig was a Heckler and Koch MP-5K submachine gun, one of the smallest of its kind.
Through the radio microphone in his helmet he’d heard the dispatcher’s tinny voice informing all units that the SWAT team from Central Command had been involved in a wreck on the way to the bank, which meant that for quite some time, the rest of the guys were going to be in deep shit. Already flying down the city streets, Detective Wesley Tracer kicked it up another notch, weaving in and out of traffic like a lunatic.
“Hang on, guys.” He said to himself.
------
“Damn it!” An officer screamed as a high velocity rifle round ripped through his leg. The cops were still firing, but ammo was running low and many were wounded, some dead. They lay bleeding on the asphalt, waiting for any EMT brave enough to enter and fray and drag them to an ambulance.
One cop was screaming into his radio when he heard a high pitched whine coming from some direction he couldn’t pinpoint. He thought for a moment that Central had managed to get another SWAT team out to them, but it seemed unlikely.
Then, the creator of the sound revealed itself. The shiny turbo-charged motorcycle rounded a street corner a block away and sped toward the bank. One of the police cars being used as a barricade out front was angled with the nose pointed toward the building the rear facing the direction from whence the bike was coming.
“Hey, it’s Wes! What the--oh shit! Get clear! He’s gonna jump the fucker!”
Tracer raced forward, popping the front wheel of the bike as he hit the back of the cruiser. He rose up and sped along the roof of the car, ending in a grand launch off the front end…straight through what was left of one of the front windows of the bank!
------
Wes hit the linoleum inside and spun the cycle, skidding across the floor sideways. He spotted two of the thugs standing atop the front desk and pulled the Beretta from his right hip. He sighted them and swept the machine-pistol, spitting a wall of hot lead that cut them both down in the blink of an eye. The bike began losing momentum as he approached the desk, and before he hit it he shifted his weight and kicked off the bike, throwing himself behind the desk.
It wasn’t the best cover, but it was working well enough as men on each side of the bank opened fire on his position, sending papers and plaster and bits of pinewood flying into the air. Wes unclipped a flash-bang grenade from his belt and tossed it into the front area of the bank. In seconds a deafening boom filled the building along with flashes of blinding light. The automatic fire from the bad guys suddenly stopped.
Wes rose from behind the front desk, Beretta in one hand and HK in the other, sweeping his guns along both sides of the building. He blew away three of the masked men as they rubbed their eyes or struggled to reload their weapons. One of them he hadn’t seen rushed him from the side. He sent a high side-kick rocketing into the guy’s chin, knocking him cold.
“Drop the goddamn guns or she dies, man! Drop ‘em now!” The last robber had pulled a woman from the floor and held a pistol to her head. He stood in the center of the bank, yelling his orders to Tracer. Wes stepped forward, trying to pacify the man. He got within ten feet and threw both his weapons down. The robber was stupid however, he tracked the movement of the guns across the ground, taking his eyes off the deadliest man in the room.
Wes pulled the Sig from the small of his back and fired. The bullet opened a neat little hole in the robber’s forehead and rocketed out the back, taking most of his skull with it. The woman fell to the ground, crying.
------
From a private jet flying 11,000 feet above sea level, Ashley Tisdale looked down upon the lovely landscape of southern Miami. Hills and neighborhoods with pools in every backyard spread below them, and out to the side the Atlantic ocean lay blue and shimmering. It was going to be a great trip, she was sure of it. She was still riding out the success of the recently released High School Musical with teen heartthrobs Zac Efron and Vanessa Anne Hudgens. She only hoped her career could be based on bigger things while at the same time continuing to bring as much publicity and profit.
Also on the plane was Miley Cyrus, daughter of former country musician Billy Ray Cyrus and brand new teen queen on the Disney payroll, as well as the lovely Asian, Brenda Song. Brenda played alongside Maddie as London Tipton in The Suite Life of Zack and Cody. They were all good friends and Ashley enjoyed their company a great deal. Currently, however, they each had their own things going on. Brenda was talking to her agent on her cell phone and Miley was listening to her iPod while downloading some new tunes.
Ashley turned away and continued reading their briefing for the trip. Disney was throwing a So Hot Summer concert bash and several stars were going to be there. Of course Miley would be performing as her television alter ego Hannah Montana, and it was said that Ashlee Simpson and maybe even the Cheetah Girls were going to make an appearance. It was sure to be a great few days of interviews and parties and lounging on the beach and entertaining the fans. Still, it was tiring work, and Ashley only hoped she had the energy to hold out.
“Hey guys, when--guys?” Ashley turned to speak to Miley and Brenda, only to find that they were both gone.
------
They were in the bathroom of the jet. Brenda was softly kissing Miley’s sweet soft lips and running her hands through the girl’s hair.
“I’ve been waiting so long to get you alone again.” Brenda whispered into Miley’s ear.
“I know. It’s been so hard not being able to touch you. I’ve been thinking of this for weeks.”
The two looked longingly into each other’s eyes. Miley began moving her hand slowly down Brenda’s chest, past her stomach, and finally the special place.
“Mm, yeah, that’s it.” Brenda cooed to her young protégé as Miley rubbed the sweet spot between the older girl’s legs, making her warm and wet. The bathroom in the private jet was beautifully furnished, and much bigger than most, but still just a tiny bit cramped for two people. That wasn’t really much of a problem for them, however, as what they were doing required close quarters.
Brenda was only wearing a thin black top and pink miniskirt, making it extremely simple for the young Miley to get at her warm slit through her panties. Brenda put her back against the wall and lifted one leg, propping it up on the sink on the other side. She held the younger girl close and pulled down the straps of her shirt to free her wonderful caramel colored tits.
“Mm, I love your boobs, Brenda.” Miley said. She lowered her head and took one dark chocolate colored nipple into her mouth, suckling like candy while she looked up at Brenda with her wide, puppy dog eyes.
“I know, baby. I love it when you suck my titties. I feels so good. Oh, rub me faster, hon.”
Down below, Miley had moved the thin fabric of Brenda’s panties to the side and was running her fingers up and down her labia, feeling the warmth and smoothness of the wonderful opening. She slowly slipped one, then two fingers inside.
“Oh, yeah. Fuck me with your hot little fingers.” Brenda told the girl. Miley let the spit covered nip slide out of her mouth and rose to meet the lovely Asian’s lips. Their tongues twirled and intertwined in passion.
Brenda pulled back. “I want you to make me feel good, baby. I’m so wet. Eat me, eat my pussy.”
“I love it when you talk all dirty to me. Nobody knows we’re such hot little Disney sluts.”
“I know baby. Do it for me, tongue my twat.”
Miley lowered herself to her knees and made one long lick up Brenda’s sweet pussy before sliding her tongue inside. She began moving her head back and forth, fucking Brenda with her tongue.
“Mm, oh yeah, oh yeah. Do it, Miley. Do it to me.”
“Come for me, Brenda. Come all over my sweet little face.”
“Keep eating me like that and I’ll squirt all over you, you fucking cunt.”
Miley was working her tongue furiously, she moved a finger back and began slowly running rings around the puckered hole of Brenda’s ass, teasing the girl to squeal in delight. She then began pumping her fingers into Brenda while she sealed her lips around the swollen clit and sucked with all she had.
“Oh yes! Fuck! I’m…fuck…I’m coming you hot bitch!” She whispered loudly, trying not to scream. Ashley didn’t yet know of the sexual things that went on around the sets of the Disney Channel shows, and she didn’t want to freak her out and scare her away. They’d initiate her, of course, but in time.
She bucked against the younger girl’s face and set quick little jets of her fluid flying past her lips and down her throat. When it was over, Miley leaned back and smiled, her chin glistening with fresh girl-juice.
Before she could speak, however, they heard a familiar ding and looked up to see the sign urging them to return to their seats. It must have been time to land.
“Darn! I don’t get mine.”
“Later, sweetie. Later.”
They smiled and shared one last kiss before wiping off and heading out, they’d have to come up with some lie to tell Ashley to cover themselves.
------
“This is bullshit, Terry.”
Wesley Tracer sat in Sergeant Terrance Randall’s office. Apparently, there had been some rather severe repercussions from his involvement in the shoot-out at the bank. It seems that for some strange reason, the people in charge didn’t like it when all the bad guys died.
“I know, Wes. Believe me, I’ve been fighting this, but it’s not going to stop them from terminating the task force. You’re a great friend and a hell of a cop, but the politicians just don’t like you. They want you to think about resigning, or going to a desk.”
“I’ve got a great deal of respect for guys who do the paper work, but you know I can’t do that. I’m a street detective. Three years on the Miami SWAT team, a year and a half doing undercover work, and now the task force, which I think was one of the best ideas we’ve ever had, and they want me off the force? Or out of the way, which is about the same thing.”
“Look. Maybe you can do something else until this whole thing blows over, ya know? Sit down and solve some old cases, or take some down time.”
“Come on, Terry. This work is my life. I mean, it’s not like I can’t do anything other than police work, God knows I hate the politics, but I need something that’ll keep me sharp. I don’t want to go back to being a bouncer or teaching self-defense.”
“Okay, okay. Hey, you’re a young guy. You can do some security work for this big concert thing their doing down at the beach. You can take get out, get some sun, maybe even get laid.”
Wes gave him a stern look, “Terry.”
Terry raised his hands defensively. “Or not, whatever you choose to do, but there are going to be some nice looking young girls down there.”
“What’s this whole thing about, anyway.”
“I don’t know. Some summer concert tour for the Disney Channel.”
“Jesus Terry! If that’s what you mean by young you can count me out!”
“Wes, you know it’s not just going to be teenagers. If there’s sun and music, the older ones will be there, too. Besides, you’re only twenty-two. You need to loosen up a bit.”
“I like being uptight, keeps the reflexes quick.”
“Anyway, if you want the job, they could use some extra security. If not, go home and get some rest.”
Wes thought about it for a moment. Young stars were always in some kind of danger, weren’t they? Maybe it wouldn’t be just another routine gig after all. Who new, he could end up taking out some dangerous stalker or preventing a massive attack on the concert.
He looked up at his commanding officer and friend. “I’ll take it.”