The Rise of the Fixer

The Rise of the Fixer

 

 

by dmallord

 

 

4,200 MS Words

 

This fictional story dovetails with another: ‘Life is a Bucket of Shit — Not Chocolate.’ If you have not read that humorous account of a young carpenter and his woeful tale of divorce to a gold-digging wife then you lose a bit of the tenor of this story. My advice — read the other and come back for the cake in this one!

Jackie Wilson, aka ‘The Fixer’ is a pivotal character in both stories and recounts in more detail here the circumstances of her meeting Danny, the carpenter, in the other story via flashback episodes.”

Readers’ comments on ‘Life is a Bucket…’ mentioned liking to learn more about The Fixer. So, this one is an introduction to her background and how she came to meet carpenter in appreciation for their kind remarks and generous ratings.

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OVERWATCH

 

Binoculars in hand, Jackie Wilson leaned her shapely butt against her red Maserati GranTurismo. It was backed into an isolated blind spot behind a city refuse pickup point near the bay city bridge. From her vantage point, she was standing overwatch at the forthcoming crime scene. This petite stick of dynamite coolly waited for the first plume of smoke to curl up from cracks in the closed garage door at 2424 Happiness Lane. At the first sign of smoke, she bounded into her Maserati and hightailed it off the bridge hitting the highway back to the center of town. The explosion had blown out the garage doors and flames immediately shot to the roof. There was no further need to stick around — didn’t need to risk getting caught in some freak, chance social media recording by gawkers stopping to see the show.

Danny’s problems with Rita, his Ex, were about to come to an end. The rest of the details, Jackie planned to catch on the evening news. Her anonymous tip on an incendiary type house fire to a go-getter-gal from the local station would be sure to make the afternoon breaking news hour.

“Fortunately,” the on-site reporter declared to her followers, “the residents were not at home when fire consumed the entire structure.”

The Fixer’s adrenaline was pumping. Jackie’s internal dialog cautioned her to keep a light foot on the gas pedal while weaving the flame red Maserati through traffic. She wheeled into a one-stop service copy place. Printing copies of the images she’d captured from that same bridge just under an hour ago, she sealed them into an 8×11 envelope. Addressed it to the hot babe down on the road doing her best to sound like an authority on fire control. Anyone listening to the news hour recognized the broadcaster’s intense demeanor and that she commanded the camera crew like a drill sergeant.

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JACKIE’S CON

 

“Jackie,” my trainer said, “Always pick the youngest reporter! They’re eager to please and will get the job done. They want the credit and always hunger for that next level of promotion.”

‘Miss Turner fits the type!, I had decided, slipping the envelop across the table to the smiling, cute, and flirty redhead on the other side of the photo copy counter.

“Sugar,” I gave her a wink and nice grin back as I slid it over, “get this off in today’s mail, please!”

From my first day on the job, I always found the boss’s instructions were true. He was damn good at what he did. He trained me to be the same — “The Fixer” is what he nicknamed me and to this day, the title has stuck to me like ‘stink on shit.’ Most folks might say it was like ‘white on rice,’ but being Asian American, I’m not fond of the latter colloquialism. Out of my mouth, that sounds just so wrong!

There was no doubt in my mind that Alice Turner, fledgling news reporter, would turn this into a major self-promotion. She would work the angles with the police and get exclusives to the investigation — in return for getting the photos of Rita and her new aerial yoga instructor/boyfriend staging the arson scene at the house for which Danny was paying. It had been Rita’s for a short while, by deceptive divorce means of course! It was a wild month in which she used it to entertain her move-in boyfriend, Terrance. Rita fucked him like a feral cat and fucked over Danny figuratively as well. Miss Turner would dig up all that dirt, eventually, I knew. It would be prime time reporting as Rita and Terrance stood stone faced before the criminal docket judge.

From what Danny spilled his guts about her, I knew she was a gold-digging bitch. Knew too, that the insurance policy she had him take out for half a million dollars was a dark and dangerous plot just waiting for the right time to explode. So, I didn’t wince a bit about conning her and her fucking weasel lover to bite into a scam to torch the place. Sometimes you have to set fire to a buck of shit to get rid of the stench! I gave them instructions on how to stage a fool proof, delayed eruption. It would look totally accidental, I assured them, and allow them to be elsewhere when it went up. Suckers, both.

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I really needed that night’s stress reduction — the night Danny’s and my life collided on that stormy bleak road. Cooking for Danny provided some solace for what happened earlier. Afterward, feeling Danny between my thighs was so cathartic as well. The nearly botched job I had just completed moments before he sped past me rattled my bones to the core. It didn’t help in my getaway; that he almost ran over me pedaling down the road in the rain storm.

Jesus, I nearly got killed — both times! The first when I had to confront the target and the second when Danny nearly ran over my ass as I peddled away on a bike that I grabbed at the safehouse.

Admittedly, at first I needed that sexual release and just took advantage of Danny like some sex toy that evening. But as the night moved toward dawn, I found Danny genuinely enjoyed drawing me into a roiling cauldron of sexual passion. I found the desperation and fright from near death events slowly draining out of my body with each climax that I took from Danny — or the ones he lovingly gave me in the early morning hours. I toyed with the idea of hanging around for a couple of more days of rest and relaxation — a bit of R&R.

It was cute the way he looked into my eyes as I woke up in his bed after the torrential storm. His finger tip just glided across my nose to awaken me.

Then, with his hand in the hollow of my spine, and my naked body pressed against his, he whispered, “Jackie, I think I love you!”

His momma was right though — Danny was easily pussy whipped! Had I stayed for very long and then disappeared, I could tell he would be back in that bucket of shit feeling he morosely spent his time with for the past few months. My job didn’t allow for personal feelings to mix with business. A one-night stand was the best thing for both of us at that moment.

Jesus! What a nightmare that safehouse breech had been! The Fixer Solution was supposed to be a simple design. Target Sabatino Marquez ‘the rat’ Sanchez and give him a vile warning that he could be had anytime, anywhere. Just spark a fear that pierced his soul like a hot glowing nail going into his eyeball; one he would remember when he got on the witness stand to testify. All he had to remember was to tell the truth, the real true, and not the ‘truth’ he conned the Feds into believing.

He garnered a witness protection plan out of them as his reward. The Feds thought they have flipped him, but they were dead wrong. The rat spun them a tale of Gloria Moreno as a shadowy operator of a drug gang out of Juarez. He gave her up. She denied it. Yet he had a lot dirt on her — all fingers pointed to Gloria. The mountain of fake evidence indicated she was the boss. It was made up crap the rat fed them. Gloria was the innocent — held by the rat for five years. He used her, abused her body, and made Gloria Moreno into a patsy to cover his tracks. Gloria served as a courier crossing the border between the cartel and Sabatino Marquez Sanchez. That cunning coyote used her to his advantage.

 

THE FIXER’S SIMPLE PLAN

 

The Fixer plan was a simple design, except for the damn weather!

The plan — stash my Maserati in a nearby garage for a fast escape. I had previously scouted the place. The couple were away on a cruise to the Caribbean so that was no problem. The problems started with the damn weather! Traversing the ravine was difficult. As I made my way across the slippery caliche on the steep walls of the ravine, the furious winds drove rain straight up the jean-shorts I had on and right up the crack of my butt. I swear if there were fish in that stream the gale force winds would have driven them straight up there too! The rain filled torrent was nearly impossible to cross. As it was I lost my footing and my go-bag with the tie straps, intended for the Feds, and flashbang grenades were carried downstream. I was lucky to hang onto my sword strapped over my shoulder and down around my back.

All I had to do was traverse the ravine behind the safehouse and gain entrance. Disable the three Fed guards. Menacingly tickle Sabatino Marquez ‘the rat’ Sanchez’s testicles, the ones he is so proud of, with my short blade sword. Deliver the message that I could get his balls anytime and anyplace I wanted. More precisely, ‘Tell them the truth or I will cut your nuts off!’

That was all I had to do! Simple plan. He loved his nuts! No way in hell was he going to risk being tracked down and lose his precious manhood!

The Feds had been playing rummy with ‘the rat’ when I tossed a wrought iron chair through the patio window. At first no one reached for a weapon. Surprise was written all over their faces as I bolted in right as the chair crashed into the kitchen table. One, two-and-a-half, three-and-a-half, and they were down, stunned. The first Fed went down easily with a fist to the throat. The second one I spun up and over my head slamming him onto the table, back first, knocking the wind out of him. The third I swept off her feet with a kick spinning motion at the knees. The rat was the last, stunned by a sharp left jab to his nuts as I slide across the floor and nailed him.

‘Improvise!’ My boss drummed into my head in situations such as these. Ripping cords from the blinds, I tied up the Feds as quickly as a rodeo calf roper could manage. Then turned my sword’s attention to the groaning and moaning, balls holding rat curled up on the floor. It put the fear of God into him as I spun the sword around and snapped it still, barely an inch from his nut sack. I had confidence, lots of practice, so I wasn’t worried about leaving a mark.

“¡Diles la verdad o te cortaré los cajones! Or I’ll find you, I swear to God, no matter where you hide and I’ll cut them off!…” was as far as I got when the lights went out as the storm railed against the safehouse walls.

A split second later a muzzle flash lit up the room. A Fed had managed to get loose and was firing blindly toward the sound of my voice. The same instant ‘the rat’ jerked in a reflex action. I jerked instinctively spinning around as well. It was unfortunate for ‘the rat’ as I heard him squeal in some pain. Guess he got a little too close to the blade under the circumstances; not sorry about it, though. I rolled toward the Fed’s voice, as she shouted out for her team to stay down. They were still well hog-tied unlike the wily female escape artist. I knew she was intent on unloading the mag into anything that moved.

‘Close the distance, always!’ came my trainer’s voice as my fist made a soft thud sound as it mated with the Fed’s cunt. She folded, dropping her weapon. I owned her gun now, and sheathed my sword slipping out into the rain as she lay doubled over in pain. I grabbed an old bike leaning against the wall and headed down the driveway at a furious pace, silently into the blinding rainstorm. A trail of gun parts lay behind me as I peddled away, while disassembling the Glock 47 and discarding parts like gum wrappers on a New York City street.

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JACKIE’S REACTIONS TO THE SAFEHOUSE BREECH

 

Admittedly, at first I needed that sexual release and just took advantage of Danny like some sex toy that evening. But as the night moved toward dawn, I found Danny genuinely enjoyed drawing me into a roiling cauldron of sexual passion. I found the desperation and fright from near death events slowly draining out of my body with each climax that I took from Danny — or the ones he silently, lovingly gave me in the early morning hours.

Shamelessly, I forced his body down onto the bed and slipped down over his cock. I was on a mission, seeking to drive away the fear of death that had rattled me earlier that evening. I felt the throb of my heart beating against my chest cavity like a sledge hammer as my breathing deepened. Leaning forward, I let his lips and teeth latch onto my turgid nibbles. It felt so exhilarating as he alternated sucking my firm buds and rolled each one around with his tongue. I could sense the surge of electricity jolting back through my nerve endings, coursing its way back down through my cunt. I fought like hell not to clutch his hair by the roots and slam his head against my breasts. I wanted him to suck all of my tit down his throat, hell both tits at once if he could do it! Just two minutes into it and my blood pressure must have been off the scales. I could feel my wetness flowing between my thighs as I rose up and plunged down again and again onto his cock. The thrusts grew noisier as the lubricity of my excitement flowed over his thighs and I slammed down upon him. Danny really got into sucking in each bud and enjoyed grating them between his front teeth. Then, as if it couldn’t get any better, he added his fingers seeking out my clit, pressing alongside it, forcing more friction against his cock as I rode him. It sent waves of intense pleasure and an unabashed squeal from deep within my throat.

“Fuck!” escaped from between my clinched jaws as his robust stirring found more nerve endings. His tongue burrowed into the tips of my nipples, forcing them down into my orbs.

Then at some point in the maelstrom, amidst an intense shutter of pleasure, we paused, clinging to one another without another word spoken. The firm tugs with of his teeth on my nipples gave way to gentle kisses. The hurried escape of air from both our lungs slowed down a bit. My body spasmed under its release and seemed to wilt as Danny’s strong hands wrapped around my waist for support. Lust begged for a moment of calm within the storm raging outside and the storm still building within my loins. I rested upon him; my breasts plastered against his perspiration-soaked chest; my legs splayed on either side of his. His pulsing cock still buried deeply inside of me, still unsatisfied. I rode the first wave of lust that had enveloped us for my own pleasure — it’s release drove out some of the fear as the dopamine high surged through my senses.

The second, comforting ride belonged to Danny. He rolled me over onto my back. My breathing was still just under a marathon runner’s gasp for air. He wasn’t in a hurry. His gentle hands slid beneath my shoulder blades and his fingertips curled up over my clavicles; gripping me. I felt his breath over my eyelids in the darkness — then he kissed each one lightly. Those lips turned hungry when they found mine and our tongues entwined for a few moments before I surrendered and let him suck my tongue into his mouth. I felt my body melting beneath him. All 103 pounds pressed into the mattress until he lifted himself up onto his elbows.

Thousands of years of instinct flowed through my body. My legs drew upward taking on the butterfly pose. Opening them like welcoming wings, I readied myself. I know he felt the tension drain. That’s when he moved, tenderly, slowly as the rains outside poured down against the windows. He build the lust back up into a flame again; until my hips matched him thrust for thrust. Finally, I heard his groans as he spued forth his own version of rain into me, as sweat dripped from our bodies. We came in subdued silence. Just the huffs of our breathing sounded along with the rampaging storm outside. We had perfected the ancient euphemism ‘Clouds and Rain’- the blending of male and female, sky and earth, and created rain — the product of a climax between a couple engaged in never-ending intercourse.

Danny slept the dreamless sleep of sexual exhaustion, for a few hours.

Mine was a mixture of uneasy sleep and the thoughts of what was going on down the road. It must now be a melee of FBI and local cop cars trying to figure out what happened. No way in hell was the agent in charge going to admit a single, sword wielding girl overpowered three trained FEDs and got away with just a whispered mix of Spanish and English to the cowering cartel witness. Added to that embarrassment, she was missing her service weapon. Try and explain that one!

The best I could hope for at this point was God had struck fear into ‘the rat’ and he would remember my threats if he didn’t tell the truth at his deposition. Definitely, the rat knew I had his number — I saw the fear in his eyes as he gazed into my own cold-as-hell sloe-eyes. He was smart enough to know that if I could get to him in an undisclosed Federal safehouse, I could find him in the witness protection program and complete what I threated. I wanted him to wake up in the middle of the night grabbing for his balls and feeling a cold steel blade pressing against them; night after night for a good long while.

I used Danny twice more before sunrise. Slower, now than the first time, each time helped salve the angst of near death. He didn’t say no — I guess he needed it as much as I did. At dawn, he couldn’t get it up — men — so I rode his face for one more cream-lipped cum. That one was especially prolonged and felt like riding a stallion at full gallop until I came. My gasping body rolled off Danny’s and snuggled against his warm, soft skin. He held me tight. Kissed my lips, my eyes and whispered, “Good night.” I dropped off into that dreamless sleep of sexual exhaustion until noon.

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JACKIE’S FIRST JOB INTERVIEW

 

It had been twenty-four hours since I last checked in with my boss. Too long.

But I needed the time to set up Rita and Terrance in my sting. That was an off-the-books operation to help Danny — not sanctioned by the boss. Had it gone wrong, he would have burned my ass with a blow torch for a non-sanctioned operation. It’s not like he could fire me though. I wasn’t an employee, just a girl collecting on independent contractor work.

I suppose he could have taken me to the desert and had me dig a grave with a shovel. But then too, he knew what I could do and had done with a shovel in the past. Jackie Wilson just needed a toothpick to work her magic, but if that wasn’t available her hand-to-hand combat training would suffice.

He had laughed at me when we first met for what I thought was a job interview for a security agency. I told him straight up I had washed out of the Navy Seal training program after eight weeks. He tried his best not to laugh. I knew why. It was a ridiculous requirement that a hundred-and-three-pound woman carry that much crap on a mission. Fuck’n stuff weighed more than I did.

“Got any other skill sets?” he asked falling back into his professional, non-snickering mode.

“How ’bout four-years at the Renzo Gracie Academy under John Danaher, and Renzo Gracie one-on-one training in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Submission Grappling?” I smiled as I answered.

His eyebrow raised, a bit. “Proof?” he asked.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved a video on my phone and handed it to him. He watched my championship match and handed me the phone.