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High Profile (ShadowOfDesire and Catalyst)

Sofia quivered as she felt herself emptied, still panting through her orgasm. With his cock came a rush of fluid, gushing from her gaping hole to soak the towel beneath him. Her inner muscles twitched, visibly quivering after his withdrawal. Those lips were pink and puffy from the sweet abuse his cock had dealt. As she rolled to her side, she clutched her thighs together against the sensitivity that made another lovely tremor spill through her. Stretching, caramel body arching shamelessly in the sun, she offered a weary smile.

"Maybe I'm not going to let you. How's that? I just might keep you here to be my cabana boy to fuck whenever I please." She laughed as she gave one of her impressive breasts a squeeze, knowing full well that she couldn't 'force' him to much of anything he didn't want to do. It was still a pleasant fiction, however. She'd only meant to provide him with a reason to keep her alive while she tried to puzzle out a way to escape. The amazing sex had captured her completely, however, twisting her intent completely into something that she barely recognized.

Rising to her feet, she ventured to the outdoor shower, turning on the cool water to rinse away the sweat, both from the sun and their physical exertions. Her hand dipped between her thighs to rinse her tender pussy, as well. As she neglected to turn off the television, the video still ran, capturing the way her hands roved over her body and between her crevices while the water sheeted off her silky skin.

The water glistened over her curves in the sunlight when she finally shut off the shower and reached for a towel. Her eyes sought his across the deck. "Now that you've been wined and dined and properly fucked, what do you intend to do for the rest of the day? Going out?" It raised the question of what he was going to do with her when he did have business. Would he trust her to keep her word and stay put? Or would he secure her again to make certain she didn't go wandering off?
 
He had risen right alongside her, yet as she made her way toward the shower, he instead gravitated toward the poolside minibar, helping himself to a healthy pour of scotch. Though his needs had been thoroughly sated for the time being, he still could not resist watching her as her smooth, wet skin glistened and gleamed in the light, very nearly enough to tempt him in for another go. Still, the view was more than pleasant enough, especially with the knowledge that it would all be a part of her little home movie.

"You could say that." he answered simply. "I got a few chores I need to take care of, nothing...too major, though..." He took care to watch his tongue as he answered her, making himself sound as mundane and unremarkable as he could - outside, of course, for the evidence of what he'd just done to her.

"If you're gonna keep recording yourself when you shower, could I request an angle from the bottom, next time? I kinda got a thing for that." he quipped, leaning on the bar. As much as the clear, indisputable evidence of her begging for his cock and taking it like a shameless, dirty whore worked in his favor - and as much as he would undoubtedly enjoy viewing it - the longer it ran, now, the more chances there were for it to work against him. Especially if she was going to start asking questions. But rather than taking that matter into his own hands, he decided to let her be the one to end their little film. Just in case.
 
She laughed softly as she neared the bar. "So noted. Perhaps that will be part of the next adventure." Reaching for the television remote, she switched it off the camera feed and turned it off completely. The cameras were still recording, of course. They always would be unless one of them switched them off. Their activities in the common areas would be captured and need to be wiped before he left, but the bedrooms and bathrooms were unmonitored.

"I hope you enjoyed the show. I certainly did, though all that fucking has made me extremely hungry. I think I'll make myself an omelet and toast. You?" She half wondered when domestic chores for him had become part of the routine, but she actually found that she didn't mind. It was just as easy to make food for two as it was for one. She'd often cooked for her friends, and enjoyed spending time in the kitchen. And while the courtesy might not necessarily save her life, it would still ingratiate herself to him for the time being.

Her fingers found her abandoned glass, which she refreshed with orange juice and champagne. It was amusing to her when people frowned upon drinking before noon, but would readily consume a vast quantity of mimosas at brunch. Hypocrites.
 
"Getting your brains fucked out your head all night, and all morning long, and then offering to cook breakfast for me too?" He smirked. "Shit, its a shame. You wouldn't make a half-bad housewife, after all." He polished off his drink and set it down on the bar, crossing his arms while he looked her over. "Sure, I'll take one. Cheese too, if ya got it." he played along, feeling quite content in taking advantage.

He glanced down at his watch, and his eyes widened, taken aback by just how long they'd apparently been at it. "Might have to make that to go, though," he added suddenly. "I ain't got the luxury of being late, today."

Still naked, having never bothered to cover himself up, he pushed himself off the edge of the minibar counter and walked her way, stopping when he'd gotten just a step or two past her. He turned to her, and reached a hand out to touch her chin. With light force, he tilted her head up ever so slighly, and grinned a sly, devilish grin, looking pleased with himself. Then, he opened the door back inside, and held it open for her, gesturing for her to go in before himself.
 
He was such a tease! Even such a simple touch made her stomach flutter, and she'd just been completely sated! Her body's response was no longer her own, it seemed. The longer he stayed, the more enamored she became, and the more she responded to his twisted desires. The look in his eyes could have melted her to a complete puddle at his feet. She had to compose herself as she walked back into her apartment, throwing him a pointed look as she passed him at the door.

"You go get cleaned up, and I'll have breakfast ready for you when you leave," she said. "But don't get too used to the treatment. I'm not a cook," she said with a laugh.

Downstairs, she pulled out everything she'd need. Rather than omelets, she opted for breakfast burritos, which were portable enough for him to take with him. Soon the kitchen filled with smells of cooking eggs, sauteed peppers, melted cheese, toasted tortillas, and fresh salsa. She had her playlist on as she bounced around the kitchen in just her towel, singing into her spoon while gyrating to some club hit from the 90s.
 
The sounds and smells had already permeated all throughout and into his own dwelling well before, tempting him with the realization of just how delectable the idea of a good meal seemed after a long morning spent as it had been. The resulting combination of an ever-increasing appetite, and a tight window of time he'd already run himself dangerously close to, lent itself to quite a bit more haste than usual in his preparations. Naturally, his wardrobe was as well-kept as ever. A grey shirt beneath an all-black suit and tie, complete with all of the appropriate accessories, looking the part of just the right sort of well-off man who may find himself wandering into a skeevy place of business or two in Downtown Miami. But even as he practically glided about, grabbing all the same items he'd been taking with him on every venture outside of these walls since he'd first arrived, his ever-diligent mind wondered, as it always did, if he had all of it.

That thought was interrupted by the violent vibration of his phone, alerting him to the time. "Fuck me." he muttered, as with a sigh he hurriedly gave himself a once-more-over, and then made his way downstairs. As luck would have it, he'd done so just in time. It looked -and smelled- like Sofia was very nearly done, although he gave her the courtesy of allowing her to dance away, especially with her back turned to him, for just a few extra seconds before he bothered to interrupt.

"Seriously?" He remarked with a chuff, approaching her at the counter. "You know what, chick, you might just be the happiest fuckin' hostage in the world right about now. Freshly fucked, day drinking and dancing in the kitchen in a towel, Like you were cooking a nice meal for you and your man." he mocked, a playful smirk. "I must be doin' somethin' wrong, huh? Do I need to slap ya around a little more? Or would you like that too much?"
 
Sofia glanced at him over her shoulder, smiling as she shrugged. Turning and gesturing for his hand, she plopped a foil-wrapped burrito into it. On the island, she slid over a thermos of coffee for him to take along with him. "I just might. Maybe you should try it later and find out." Her eyebrows waggled lasciviously before dissolving into soft giggles. "I mean, you were so fucking hot when you grabbed me fresh out of the shower and shoved me against the wall. Granted, I really couldn't appreciate it then because you scared the piss out of me, and I thought you were some serial killer that wanted to rape me before you slit my throat." Honestly, it wasn't too far from the truth if you took his profession into account.

"Maybe that's something for you to think about while you're gone." She leaned both arms on the counter so that her breasts pushed together, accentuating her ample cleavage. "And maybe a bit of incentive to hurry on back after a long, hard day of doing whatever it is that you're going to be doing. Isn't that what every man wants? A cute girl just waiting for him to get home so she can feed him, massage his feet, and get slapped around while riding his dick so he can go to bed the happiest man alive?"

Her eyes roved over him suggestively, though in the end she merely commented on his attire. "You're looking like a million bucks, and in such a short time, too. It'd take me at least two hours to get ready for something special. Aren't you going to be late, though?"
 
Fuck, was she getting better at pushing his buttons.

His outward reaction did not do her words the same justice as the internal twinge he felt surge beneath the flesh. Though his attention could not help but be drawn to the cleft between her bountiful breasts, just as she'd clearly intended as she invited him to act on her lascivious proposition, he was able to refrain from allowing his focus to linger for too long.

"Cute." He said with a squint of his eyes. "Tempting. But I'll have to get back to you on that one." He gave her a once over while adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. "Flattery will certainly get you somewhere, sweetheart..." He looked back over his shoulder, gazing at the door to her own bedroom. "Just not right now, unfortunately."

"How about we just make this easy, hmm? You go sit in your little room, I'll lock you in, and I'll let you out when I get back. Quick and simple, this morning." He suggested. "I'd say you earned it with your...performance, this morning, but really, it'll just save me the trouble and the time."
 
She sighed dramatically, but didn't argue. "Fine, but just as long as I get to take snacks again. I'm not wasting this breakfast!" She killed the music and then loaded up a tray full of goodies to munch on while he was gone. Throwing him another teasing look over her shoulder, a promise of what he was going to be missing, she led the way to her bedroom that would serve as her prison. It was far better than being tied to the bed upstairs, as she had her own television here to keep her occupied.

"Do you know how long you're going to be gone this time? You know, just in case something happens? I'm not going to know if you get shot or something, and can't stay in here indefinitely. I'd have to eventually renew my food sources so I don't die of starvation."

Which brought up a good point. Just how long would she play the prisoner if he didn't come back that night? How long until it'd be safe to call someone to tell them what had happened? Or would she even let anyone know what had happened? After her on camera 'performance' that morning, she doubted anyone would believe that she was being held against her will. She'd been entirely too enthusiastic, and had enjoyed herself thoroughly. Anyone watching would assume that she was complicit in the relationship, and perhaps even guilty of his crimes by association. Truth be told, she wondered about that, herself. She didn't really feel like a prisoner any longer, not even when it was time for him to lock her up.
 
He had to scoff as he witnessed her gathering up her chosen resources, like a chipmunk preparing itself for the long, long winter of the next few hours. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, princess!" he prodded her. "No, I got no clue exactly how long I'll be gone. But tell ya what, if the sun goes down and comes back up with you still in here? Yeah, probably a safe bet somethin' didn't go quite right." a snide smile crossed his lips. "If it happens twice? Well, then congratulations, sweetie. I'm probably dead, and you got lucky. Assuming you can get yourself out after that, that is."

"Now, while I'd love to stay and chat..." he said, waving the burrito she'd handed him in her direction. "I gotta get moving. So you just get comfy... thanks for the breakfast, by the way." He grinned, walking out of her room and shutting her door behind him. Over the next minute, she would hear a great deal of shuffling and dragging movement from the other side - the sound of him locking and barricading her in that she may well have become somewhat familiar with. A moment after the movement stopped, there were footsteps, moving back and forth for a moment or two more, followed then by the opening and closing of the entryway door, signaling that she was alone.

___________

He looked down at the papers in his hand, and then tossed them into the passenger seat. Steering with his wrist, and holding his meal in his hand, he mouthed the address silently to himself. 595 Southwest 11th Street. 595 Southwest 11th Street. As he drew nearer, he began to scan the building faces and nearby signs for anything to point him in the right direction. Though truth be told, even he was not exactly sure what he would find at that address. Only that he needed to be there.
 
595 Southwest 11th Street, it turned out, was a large warehouse in the business district. The area was a busy one, evening in the morning, with loaded vans and cargo trucks headed out on various deliveries. The warehouse in question was quiet, though. There didn't seem to be a whole lot of activity in or around it. The yard was fenced with razor wire, which was a common precaution in the area, and the stout gate opened with a code on the keypad. The parking lot held several vehicles of various makes, but one in particular was familiar to him - a black Escalade. He'd seen it previously at the club the evening he'd nearly been caught spying.

After about an hour, movement at the docks attracted his attention. A driver climbed into the cab of a white cargo truck without any discernible markings and pulled away from the building, pausing as it waited for the gate to open. It turned onto 11th Street, heading east toward Interstate 95. A dark-skinned man in a dirty coverall paused at the open dock door to peer up and down the street, then ducked inside and pulled the door down behind him.

A short time later, a suited man exited the side door, holding it open for Elise DeSantos. The petite woman was busy with her phone and didn't look up except when the man opened the car door for her. She climbed into the backseat, disappearing from view as soon as the door closed, hiding her behind illegally tinted windows. There looked to be only one bodyguard with her this morning, who also served as her driver. The Cadillac pulled out of the yard a few moments later and turned west.
 
"Hmph...Shhhit." he muttered to himself beneath his breath. "Now what's an innocent lady like you doing down here by yourself, hmm?" to say that her presence had come as a surprise would have been an understatement. Seeing firsthand how quiet and innocuous the warehouse appeared to be, his suspicion had already been that there was a very good reason it had been chosen, but for what? A meeting spot, perhaps? A private stash? Or was it simply the perfect place for a dead drop? In any event, he'd expected to see some unidentifiable lackey or two sneaking their way in and out. But Elise? At that point, he thought, a betting man's money would have been on whatever was behind those walls being pretty damned important.

Then again, what could be more important than DeSantos' niece? What could she possibly have come here for that was deemed so vital that it necessitated her showing her face in this area, bodyguard and all?

Unfortunately for him, it seemed they had no intention of sticking around long enough for him to ponder those thoughts. His attention was torn between the warehouse his intel had led him to, and the Black SUV carrying Elise DeSantos. Was there someone else in that old, run-down building? Was there something to be seen inside? He knew very well that that may have been the case. However, he also realized that if there was not, his only opportunity to get the information he sought may very well have already been on wheels.

A very brief internal battle ended when the vehicle reached the stop sign at the corner and turned left. Resolving that he could not take a chance on coming away with nothing, he quickly turned over the engine and pulled onto the road making it a point to get them back in his sight.

He followed them for just over a half-an-hour, by the clock, keeping a laser-like focus open them the entire time. He did not follow suit when they occasionally weaved between cars in the mid-day traffic. Doing so would only raise a flag if indeed they were keeping an eye out. This was far from his first time tailing, and he'd grown wise on the subtle tricks that suspicious drivers oft used. Still, as they traveled further and further south, well beyond the city itself, he could not help but wonder about their destination. Many miles down the same stretch of road, his surroundings, by now, were completely foreign to him.

Then, suddenly, and without warning, the Escalade turned sharply left off of the main road, down an unmarked private street, tires skidding on the pavement. He had to fight the instinct to do the same. Instead, he continued straightforwardly without so much as changing speed, looking out of his periphery to see the vehicle pulling up to a large fence some ways down the path, the bodyguard's arm reaching out of the window. It was only once he'd passed them that he looked through his mirror to get a glimpse of where they'd gone.
 
The Escalade passed through the iron gate which automatically closed behind them, and continued to a private residence set back from the road. He could only get a glimpse of the building through the trees that bordered the property, but it appeared to be a Mediterranean manor home built sometime in the early 1900s. The view was soon obscured by other homes and private roads, and the main road offered no areas to park unnoticed.

In fact, he had to loop around and head north to pass the property and travel over the canal to find a suitable place for recon. Across the canal, to the north of the estate, he found a public park and walking path that led to the beach below. There were several vehicles already parked in the lot beneath shade of the swamp oak and palm trees, though the occupants were absent, likely walking the shore. The vantage gave him an excellent view of the canal, the dam that stretched across it, and the estate beyond. The property spanned several acres along the canal and abutted the churning bay to the east. Though most of the property was surrounded by iron fencing, the bayside was bordered with only a low white marble balustrade just shy of the cliff that sloped sharply down to the beach.

Much of the property sported neatly manicured lawns and gardens, brick paths, and a wide variety of tropical plants arranged in artistic groupings for both shade and beauty. Either a pool or fountain lay on the opposite side of the property, though it was difficult to tell which as he could only see the spray of blooming water that jetted into the sky. The house itself was primarily two stories high and had been built in several wings, including an impressive square tower with the only third floor view. A handful of security personnel patrolled the grounds, moving in regular intervals, though none seemed too concerned about anyone breaching the gates as there were also surveillance cameras covering the property.

The Cadillac he'd been following had been pulled around to the rear of the building and parked in front of the garage. The driver leaned against it, cigarette in hand as he flirted with a pretty blond girl in a maid's uniform. There was no sign of Elise, though as it had taken several minutes to gain his vantage, it was safe to assume she was already in the house. The morning light made it impossible to see inside the windows, however, so there where she might be inside.
 
Looking upon the massive, sprawling compound left Foxx feeling a certain, nagging feeling that he'd only felt a small handful of times before. One that gripped him tightly and frustrated him to his core. Guards. Cameras. Security Patrol. Certainly a lot of protection for one little lady, especially one with so little exposure in the public eye... Unless that little lady was of much more importance to her uncle than anyone fathomed...

He'd parked his vehicle in the midst of the others, shutting off his lights as he studied closely whatever he could manage to see. From the locations of a few of the cameras on the property, to the movement of the patrolling guards, he noted it all. The cameras, of course, posed the biggest threat. Human error always proved the simplest form to take advantage of. But with no knowledge of who was watching the security footage, if anyone, nor even so much as an inkling of where the video feeds lead, the risk of attempting to sneak onto the property outright was far too great.

That her chauffeur had opted to have a smoke and remain nearby, rather than stowing the vehicle entirely, meant to him that his work mustn't yet have been completed. A sense of unrest was bubbling up inside of him with each moment of uncertainty. A desire to further investigate what he'd just stumbled upon, conflicting directly with the knowledge that without advanced preparation, he could do little more than precisely what he had been. To simply standby a little longer. Watching. Waiting, for any sort of movement or activity that could bring him closer to the information he needed.

"Just what are you hiding...Elise DeSantos..?" He whispered to himself, tapping his fingers on the center console
 
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