The Francisco Seven [multiple celebrities] [complete]

[Cindylover1969]

Rosie’s legs – long, slim and seemingly never in need of shaving. And she never wore tights. In fact, the girl was reluctant to wear much of anything; Rhona had had to gently remind her of this on more than one occasion.
“RHONI!” the frilly-bra-and-panties-wearing English blonde squealed on opening the door to her mistress. Rhona hated being called that, but Rosie was the only person who she allowed to do that. And it could have been worse; at least she didn’t call her “Rice-A-Roni.” (Usually.) Being a stunning blonde with bee-stung lips and a taut, tight, sylph-like body who left erections in her wake everywhere she went but who was Rhona’s alone certainly helped, but as she flung her arms around Rhona’s neck and kissed her, Miss Mitra knew there was something else in her favour.
Rosie wasn’t terribly bright, and she was one of the biggest sluts Rhona had ever met –boys, girls, cars, you name it she’d fuck it – but she was also unswervingly loyal. As Rhona wrapped her arms around Rosie and carried her through to the living room, she knew from experience that Rosie would do anything you asked her to do. Anything. And she had the cuts on her to prove it (Rhona wondered if she was getting soft in her old age – some of them were so big that she had even had Rosie operated on to heal them).
“Hard day today, Rhoni?” the blonde asked, kissing Rhona’s neck.
“Nothing I can’t handle, my dear.”
“But the way you keep talking about that Mr. DiBonaventura – I don’t see how you can work with someone like him.”
Rosie had been right. He HAD been hard to work with, until Rhona saw to it that he wasn’t around to work with any longer; but even though there was no real Mr. DiBonaventura any more it was in Rhona’s best interests that Rosie still thought there was, and that Rhona worked for him downtown. It was a very boring job, Miss Mitra had assured her, and nothing Rosie would want to take away from her time watching “Winx Club.”
“In this job market you have to take what you can get,” Rhona told her (instead of “Well, you see, grownups have to work for a living”).
“Would you like to watch me shower?” Rosie asked eagerly.
Rhona wanted to very much, but with the pressures of the day on her mind she had to relieve them anoher way. With moves coming from years of practice she grasped Rosie’s bra and undies, and tore them both off her friend with one yank – the lovely young blonde stood naked before the fully dressed brunette, who made no move to undress herself.
“There is something I want you to do, however. When we’re done here I’ll explain it to you.”
“Is it playtime again?” Rosie giggled.
“Got it in one,” Rhona smiled. Rosie always called her work playtime because she loved it, all of it, and that suited the boss just fine as long as it was done. And thicker than the La Brea tar pits though she may have been in most other areas, when it came to playtime she always got what she had to do.

[Cindylover1969]

Running her fingers through Rosie’s long blonde hair before spreading them onto her heart-shaped ass, Rhona passionately kissed the girl whose playtime had killed eleven people and counting.
* * * * * * * * *
Kristen Bell prided herself on her swagger, her legs and her ass. But not enough that she didn’t give anything from a piercing look to a punch to any man (and she did mean MAN) who touched the latter without permission. That morning one of the interns had shown he was carrying bigger balls in his pants than his size suggested and patted her rump in passing; the guy with him, who’d tried it before and had never forgotten the withering look she’d given him, had looked as if he’d have dived under a table if there was room for one in the hallway.
But instead Kristen had just smiled at him and said “You get a pass today, kid,” finishing with a wink. She was in such a good mood that even guys taking liberties with her body couldn’t ruin it; word had gotten through to the FBI that three members of the Union Bank gang – an Asian babe, a girl with loads of tattoos and the hot leggy blonde – had been rounded up on Tuesday evening heading north with cash and hostage intact (said hostage, a cute little wide-eyed schoolteacher, had sung like a canary but had gone out of her way to let them know that none of them had hurt her. Especially the brunette driver, for some reason). All four of them were on their way back to the City by the Bay, and when the other robbers were nabbed it would be question time.
It was looking more like “when” than “if” because Director Biel had told her that yesterday two more of them - the foxy naked robber and the inside girl - had been found going east, and Kristen had to smile when she thought about the irony; the cutie who did all her jobs naked had gotten caught the first time she stole a car fully dressed. Their hostage, that redheaded teller, was intact but seemed pretty non-resentful of her captors… especially that phony teller called Shay Mitchell (part of the Mitchell family?). Kristen's, and the interrogating officers in Contra Costa's, favourite part of this whole thing so far had been hearing how the woman had seen Shay and the teller actually fucking in the car - that was some SERIOUS Stockholm Syndrome going on.
The descriptions the hostages had given the cops and FBI representatives on site of the other robbers suggested they were either dealing with Roselyn Sanchez or her never-mentioned and non-existent twin. Plus they were definitely heading south, and best of all every single one of the robbers had made sure to mention they’d been employed (or left with their asses hanging out, as a particularly bitter Megan Fox had put it) by Rhona Mitra. If that link checked out, they definitely had something to tie into her.
If it didn’t, then they still had the robbers. Kristen Bell felt either way it was going to be a good day.
* * * * * * * * *
“BJ?”
Tammin Sursok glanced up from her screen, relieved to get a break from typing out a long, long report. Even if it *was* to talk to Beverley Mitchell.
“Shoot.”
“The director wants you,” said Beverley.

[Cindylover1969]

“What, not Jessica?” Tammin smiled. “Going through a rough patch?”
Even though it was common knowledge throughout the office that Jessica and Beverley were lovers, Miss Mitchell still let her eyes narrow a tiny little bit before heading back to work, letting Tammin head through to the inner sanctum and a cheerful looking director.
“Christmas is coming early around here, BJ,” Jessica announced.
“Yeah, the Union robbers getting caught; Kristen’s in such a good mood I hear she even let some intern touch her ass without punching him out. It’s like they’re just being given to us…”
“That, and a woman matching Troian Bellisario’s description was taken to San Francisco General Hospital on Tuesday night.”
Tammin swallowed. “Is she…?”
“No, thank goodness… looked like she’d taken on Kelly Kelly and the Bella Twins and lost, but she’s not in any great danger. Comatose but stable for the past couple of days – the doctors say she started showing signs of revival early this morning.”
“I’m on it,” Tammin said briskly.
“Funny thing though,” Jessica continued. “She was found not too far from where that sexy blonde reporter lives…”
“Well, she does live with Hayden Panettiere,” Tammin pointed out, “so –“
“Not her, the other one. Ashley Benson.”
“That IS a funny thing, isn’t it?” agreed Tammin as she walked out.
* * * * * * * * *
“SHIT! SHIT SHIT SHIT! Fucking Governator couldn’t fix the damn roads?”
Roselyn Sanchez and Hayden Panettiere didn’t like the potholes on the road any more than Jaime Pressly did behind the wheel of the Infiniti FX the blonde had heisted to replace the Nissan, but they really wished Jaime would shut up about it. And that she’d shut up, period.
They’d been rubbing each other the wrong way practically the second they left San Francisco – or rather, Jaime had rubbed the other two the wrong way and vice versa; Hayden had flat out refused to eat the burgers Roselyn had bought due to her being a vegetarian, which to be honest miffed Jaime more than Roselyn. Then Roselyn wanted to put on some Mexican music, which Jaime had tried to switch over to a C&W station; after they reluctantly agreed to take Hayden’s suggestion to listen to each station for an hour at a time, teeth were being gritted all day on a rotating basis. On Friday it was Roselyn’s turn on teeth-grinding duty as Jaime sent the car through San Luis Obispo – Tim McGraw was SO not her thing, even if he did have a smoking hot wife (who musically sucked as well, but at least she had something going for her with the sound off).
“Maybe Hayden should get a shot?” she suggested.

[Cindylover1969]

“Like hell! She bust into this trip, she don’t get a say! Got that, Fun Size?” Jaime cackled.
“What do you like listening to, anyway?” Roselyn asked. “Not country, I hope.”
“If I’m in the mood it’s okay,” Hayden said, lying down on the back seat. “Miranda Lambert is fun… and hot. But I really like soundtracks.”
“You mean like Celine Dion?”
“More like Trevor Rabin.”
“Holy shit! You like Yes too?” Jaime asked.
“Rabin does film scores now,” Hayden explained. ” I got a lot of stuff like that – him, John Debney, Christophe Beck, Randy Newman, David Newman, James Newton Howard, Mark Isham, Wendy and Lisa…”
“Do you have ‘The Bodyguard’? “ Roselyn asked. “I LOVE that one.”
Hayden made a gagging sound as Jaime, surprised to find herself mentally agreeing with Bridget the Midget for once, brought the car to a stop near a pretty dumpy motel. It didn’t look like the classiest place ever, but it also looked like the kind of place where few if any questions would be asked – and therefore ideal for them to spend the night.  And they could get a rest from the bumps.
If not from Hayden carrying the money. Again.
* * * * * * * * * *
“ ‘…hugs and kisses, Ashley Benson.’ There you go,” Ashley said warmly as she signed the escorting agent’s sheet and handed it to the young man. Professionals though they were (supposed to) be in the FBI, he wasn’t the only one there to have blown smoke up her nicely-shaped ass the second she arrived. Best lunch break since the last time Elizabeth Gillies visited; there wasn’t a person there, male or female, who wished that secretary hadn’t had to quit.
“Honestly, you should just do the news by yourself,” the lovestruck guy said, and almost squealed with joy when the reporter hugged him and gave him a kiss.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she laughed as the man knocked on the office door.
“Show her in!”
Ashley gave the man one last smile and didn’t miss his eyes lingering on her legs as she went in. She also didn’t miss Kristen Bell’s eyes lasering in on said stems, and mentally groaned – another freaking rug-muncher.
“Ashley Benson! Channel 7’s finest… “ the agent said, shaking Ashley’s hand. “To what do we owe this honour?”
“Well… I was a little nervous about coming in,” the reporter admitted, looking a little worried. “But with what’s happened over the past few days, I couldn’t keep quiet.”
“About what?”

[Cindylover1969]

“About Hayden.”
Kristen went from being all eyes to all ears. “Go on.”
“She isn’t as sweet as she looks on TV…  that’s how I got this.” She showed Kristen her right hand; the gash she had gotten from the fracas at her place had been sewn up, and the stitches were still there. Kristen’s eyes widened and she winced.
“Little firecracker, is she?”
“She said it’d be worse if I spilled… but someone like her…”
“Spilled about what?”
Ashley looked nervous, as if someone was going to come out and tell her Hayden was listening. Then she set her face resolutely and faced Kristen.
“About the Torcoletti’s job.”
Fireworks of her own went off inside Kristen Bell’s head; those diamonds and some other gems had gone missing from that high-class place two years ago and had never been recovered – to this day she was convinced that the fallout from the robbery had cost her the promotion that went to that fucker Efron. And now Ashley was telling her someone they wanted to talk to about another robbery might have been involved…

“Go on,” she said.
“At the Christmas party last year I saw her flirting with her camerawoman… she had this opal brooch on her top. I swear that was at Torcoletti’s and it was way out of her price range.”
“How do you know?”
“I make a LOT more than she does.”
“Did it have some gold trim around the edges?”
“Yeah…”
Even though Ashley was wearing a top that gave viewers a sneak preview of her breasts, it was all about the information when Kristen leaned forward. “Tell me more,” the agent said, smelling blood.
* * * * * * * * *
Roselyn was thankful that it was only going to be a few more days until the border; as soon as they let the reporter go and they were in Mexico she could finally dump Jaime. She knew the longer she was away the more suspicious Monica would get, but there was nothing she could do about that.

[Cindylover1969]

What she was really worried about was Alicia – calling her was something else that would have to wait until they were out of the country. She had nothing but sympathy for Hayden; someone else who couldn’t talk to the woman she loved.
Jaime was lucky; all she had to do was loudly scream at the contestants on “Jeopardy!” from her chair and hog the remote control. “IT’S ‘WHO’S TEDDY ROOSEVELT,’ JIZZSTAIN!!! Where’d they get these people anyway, someone let the spazzes out?”
“When this is over, think we could put it on another channel?” Hayden suggested from the floor.
“Listen, hobbit, you’re watching whatever the fuck *I* want to, got it? I got the remote, that gives me the power.”
Alex Trebek changed, all of a sudden, to Kevin James and Leah Remini – Roselyn had picked up the remote from next to Jaime and changed it.
“Now *I* have the power,” she smiled, clutching it tightly.
“You always gotta be in charge, don’t you? Can’t I watch what I want?”
“It’s always got to be you, isn’t it?” Roselyn replied as Jaime went for it. “Here, catch!”
She threw it down to Hayden, who was still tied up but was able to drop her body down onto it before Jaime could run to the remote, and pressed down hard. In any case, with two free hands Roselyn now had a tighter grip on the pissed-off Jaime.
“LET. GO.”
“What are you going to do, huh? It’s long past time someone taught you who’s the boss.”
“On this job? Fucking Rhona’s the boss!”
“No, *I’M* the boss, cracker!”
“You did NOT just call me that!”
“You had it coming, Saline Tits.”
Both women turned to look at Hayden – Roselyn with delight, Jaime with venom.
“I’ll deal with you later, Halfpint. I got someone who needs a lesson right here…”
Jaime tackled Roselyn, and the two robbers tumbled off the bed, tearing and kicking at each other as Hayden watched. Screw The King Of Queens, this was more fun…
Fabric was ripped and words were spat as the hatred that had been between the two ever since the job started came to the surface. As far as Roselyn was concerned, getting the now half-naked Jaime pinned to the floor was the highlight of the job so far.
As they fought and wrestled their way around the room - a feat in itself considering there was a bed and a bound hostage in there - the two career criminals exchanged cheap shots and dirty blows, neither girl quite gaining the upper hand. The moment that Jaime thought she had the advantage

[Cindylover1969]

and moved to slam Roselyn's head into the wall, Hayden reached out with her bound legs, and tripped the blonde beserker. Jaime's arms flailed about as she fell, catching on the strap of her own bag, sending the contents spilling across the floor, sex toys and all.
Roselyn forcefully shoved Jamie onto the bed, but the shove wasn't enough to keep the southern blonde down. Roselyn jumped on Jaime almost instantly, but the blonde kicked her off with a suprising amount of force. Roselyn slammed against the wall and Jaime sprang to her feet, heading toward the fallen Latina.
"I am so gonna get you, bitch!" Jamie spat as she stalked toward her foe. Before she could reach back to kick Roselyn she slipped on one of the many sex toys sprawled on the floor and fell on her ass, her head going back and making a resounding SMACK on the floor.
Roselyn quickly grabbed Jaime and the dildo she slipped on, and threw her on the bed. As the blonde tried to get up on her knees, Roselyn slipped in behind her and shoved the fake, plastic rod deep into her unprotected slit.
“You deserve this, wackjob!” came Roselyn's voice as she pumped harder and harder against the struggling blonde. Jamie was thrashing, clawing and kicking, but Roselyn had her hand firmly on the back of her neck making escape virtually impossible.
“You are so going to get it, you Spanish whore!” Jamie shouted as Roselyn thrust harder into her colleague's ass, the comment clearly infuriating her.
“I’m – Puerto – RICAN!” the leader of the gang spat with each shove.
“Ain’t it… all the SAME?!?” Jaime yelled louder. She had a high pain threshold for sure, but even *she* didn’t like having things jammed up her ass without any lube, and Roselyn didn’t seem that bothered about having “forgotten” to put some on. With each thrust, the blonde was getting closer to creaming all over the carpet – the only mercy was that she couldn’t see the very satisfied look on Hayden’s face.
“Want this out?!?” Roselyn shouted.
“Huh?” Jaime asked in between gasps – as burning up as her asshole was, she had to imagine this Mexican spitfire knew how to wield it; plus if she had to have one of those other skanks on top of her it might as well be the boss.
“You want this OUT of you?”
“I want it up YOU, that’s what I want, wetback!”
“Sure…” Roselyn panted. “As soon as you suck it off.”
“WHAT?!?” Jaime spat. “I ain’t licking something up my own ass - SICKO!”
Hayden had to chuckle, and Roselyn let herself smile. Finally something she didn’t like doing…
“Too bad…” Roselyn got to see Jaime’s enhanced but still very, very nice body jiggling underneath her, trying hard to fight back and her ass thrashing about like a fish on dry land as the blonde finally

[Cindylover1969]

gave in to Miss Sanchez’s grinding, spitting curses and threats as she orgasmed on the sheets. The screams seemed to go on forever, and Roselyn seemed to be pumping for slightly longer, but at last Jaime’s yells subsided.
Roselyn pulled it out and slowly ran it up the blonde’s back, patting Jaime’s cheeks. Not as nice as Blake’s or their hostage, but a nice ride. Resting the tip of the dildo on the blonde’s mouth and her free hand on her head, she pushed it inside. “Suck it, papita,” she whispered.
Scratch what she said earlier – the highpoint of this whole thing was seeing the exhausted and angry blonde actually closing her lips around the dildo and giving it a taste. She couldn’t be sure, but it looked to Roselyn as if Jaime was actually liking it a bit… should’ve known Jaime Pressly secretly liked the idea of eating her own ass.
“Since you like quoting films, here’s one from ‘Robocop’…”
Roselyn  pulled the dildo away from Jaime’s mouth and sent her to sleep with a lovely right cross.
“…’Okay, that’s enough.’ “
The gangleader then glanced at the bound Hayden. Just as her colleague hadn’t been satisfied with Lucy earlier, so the leader of the gang was ready for seconds; she could see from the look in the hostage’s eyes that she was about ready for some fun as well.
“You know, you could do with some time with someone who doesn’t have a history with you…” Hayden suggested teasingly.
“You have a girlfriend,” Roselyn pointed out.
“So do you,” the reporter replied. “That didn’t stop you just then.”
“Good point,” Roselyn conceded, eyeing the reporter’s small, juicy body.
Roselyn started towards Hayden to undo her bonds. Then she started towards the floor, helped by the sudden blow that landed on the back of her head; she landed a couple of feet away from the startled Hayden, who looked at the out-cold brunette and then up at Jaime, wielding the gun she’d hit her comrade with.
“Never could hit worth a damn, that one… remember I said I got three more bullets? Still got ‘em,” she growled. “You’re lucky I hate your guts or I’d make it slow...”
Hayden glanced towards the window; it was close, but Jaime was closer and even if she hadn’t been tied up there was no way she’d get to it in time. The reporter closed her eyes and waited, preparing for whatever was to come.
“Open your eyes, shorty,” Jaime hissed. “I want you to see what’s coming.”
“I’m going out on my own terms, Saline Tits,” Hayden said far more calmly than even she had imagined.

[Cindylover1969]

Had a canister of tear gas not come smashing through the window at that very moment, those would have been her last words; Jaime’s instincts for survival instantly overrode her desire to kill the hostage as she looked towards the window, and then made for the door. Coughing, Hayden started to crawl towards the starting-to-revive Roselyn, not wanting to leave her here no matter what.
The masked cops bursting into the room shortly afterwards took all decisions out of their hands, disarming the furious Jaime and carrying all three outside to their transport.
“….ooohhh….” Roselyn moaned. “Wait… what’s going on…?”
Jaime wanted to know herself; she KNEW no one had seen her switch cars and they’d only used cash of the unstolen variety, and no names (no real ones). So how the hell had they tracked them down?
“My knights in shining armour,” Hayden smiled at Roselyn, before sneering at Jaime and facing the cops with her. “Thanks—“
“Drop the act, miss,” the police officer told her. “You’re under arrest too.”
Jaime’s eyes became saucers, Roselyn immediately shot to awareness, and Hayden suddenly felt like she was in a nightmare as all three women, on the same page for once, shouted “What the FUCK?!”
* * * * * * * * * *
“Hi, sir,” Tammin said to the man in reception at San Francisco General Hospital.
“Afternoon; what can I do for you?”
“Which ward is Troian Bellisario on?”
“I’m afraid visiting hours are—“
“This can’t wait,” she interrupted, showing him her FBI identity.
“Oh.”
She never got tired of how people’s demeanour changed when the badge came out.
The ride up to the fifth floor was delayed by people getting on and off on EVERY SINGLE FLOOR; Tammin’s foot almost tapped through the metal before it was her stop.  Keeping as calm as possible, she headed to the receiving nurse on that floor.
“Excuse me, ma’am – can you tell me which room Troian Bellisario’s in?”
“Miss, first of all visiting hours are—“
Again with the badge. “FBI Agent Tammin Sursok.”
The nurse nodded. “Even with that badge it wouldn’t do much good.”
“But I understand Troian’s awake – we really need to talk to her.”

[Cindylover1969]

“So would HER FAMILY,” she said a bit testily. “They’ll have to wait until she comes out of her coma as well… she slipped back about an hour ago. Sorry you and your partner had a wasted journey…”
Tammin, already resigned to waiting, started. “My what?”
 “Your partner. She got here just before you did and wanted to know where she was – don’t you Feds keep in touch with each other? No wonder crime’s so high…”
“Wait wait wait… can you describe my ‘partner’?”
“Blonde, round-faced…”
It was a good thing she was in a hospital, because Tammin was suddenly feeling a little sick. “Kind of wide in the forehead, about yea high?” she continued, indicating the 5’2” mark.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“Where’d she go?”
* * * * * * * * *
Tammin waited in the cubicle of the woman’s bathroom for the occupant to finish, glancing at her watch. The flushing finally came, accompanied by the door opening and the woman heading out – stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Tammin standing there.
“This is the first time I’m glad it takes years for you to piss, Beverley Mitchell.”
Beverley had actually been doing the other thing, but she was too busy staring at the agent to care. “Are you stalking me or something?” the secretary asked.
“Please - I have standards. And how come you’re here anyway? You’d have told Biel if you had a family emergency… why were you asking about Troian Bellisario?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything, BJ,” she said snootily and started to push by her.
Tammin grabbed her arm. Hard.
“BJ, if you don’t let me go right now I’m-“
“Listen, slut,” Tammin hissed. “I don’t care how many times you’ve been fucking the boss and I don’t care what you told the guy in reception, you are a damn SECRETARY and you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“Okay…” Beverley gulped as her free hand dipped into her coat pocket. “I’ll tell you. It’s…”
Beverley was pausing as if she was looking for words, and Tammin kept her eyes on her. All over her. Including on her right hand, which she saw out of the corner of her eye coming out of the pocket with something in it.
Tammin rapidly grabbed Beverley’s other hand as the secretary started to struggle – a few grunts later the agent slammed the hand onto the closed cubicle door, the hand holding a hypodermic needle, and hit it twice more to make Beverley let it go with a wail. But she still held on, fighting back and trying to force Tammin away.

[Cindylover1969]

“This was for Troian?!” Tammin spat as Beverley clawed at her throat. “Who the fuck ARE you?!”
“Air bubbles and blood don’t mix,” the secretary sneered. “I thought I wouldn’t need it ‘cause she’s still out cold, but now…”
Beverley dragged back Tammin’s head and the sudden jerk caused the agent to involuntarily let go; immediately Beverley went for her with the needle. The two went down, with Beverley on top and bringing it down towards Tammin’s neck; the agent clutched Beverley’s hand just as the tip brushed her skin, and smashed both on the tiles – Beverley’s hand wasn’t broken, but the syringe was.
“Destroying evidence? Call yourself a Fed?” Beverley smirked as she slapped Tammin, before Miss Sursok’s fist hit her in the mouth.  She slipped back from the impact, as the enraged agent threw her off.
“I’m taking you IN---“ She fell back as Beverley kicked her in the stomach, leaving her down long enough for the secretary to get to her feet and run out, heading for the elevator. There were doctors and technicians through the corridor, all startled by Beverley running amongst them as she spotted the elevator doors opening.
“STOP HER!”
Crap on a crutch, Tammin was closer than she thought! Spotting the door to the stairway that went to the street, the secretary hurtled through it and thanked the fates for gravity (and for no one being able to take Tammin’s advice and STOP HER!). If/when word got through to the boss about this, it might be the last break she’d get for a long, long time. That kept her going as she ran onto the fourth floor. And the third.
And then a whole load of warm female agentry fell onto her from behind, causing them to tumble onto the second floor level. Beverley scratched and kicked Tammin, screaming “LET ME GO, YOU JUMPED-UP TEACHER’S PET!”
Tammin’s fingers were digging into her hard enough to draw blood, but that wasn’t what she wanted to do. Pressing down on Beverley and squashing her face onto the steps, Tammin grabbed the woman’s pants and dragged them down, exposing her silk undies. “You never got this when you were a kid, were you?”
“If that’s what you want, all you had to do was ask; we could have worked it out, huh BJ…” Beverley’s grumble turned into a scream as Tammin, ripping off her panties and revealing a fair amount of nicely-shaped rump through the tear, brought down a hand on her hard. This was not sexually intended at all.
“You’ve had this coming since day one, little suckup!” Tammin slapped Beverley’s ass again and again, wishing that her fingernails hadn’t been cut – driving a long one into the Mitchell butthole would really get the point across. Every slap stung, and every stinging made Beverley struggle more. As she wriggled under the agent, the pounding became even more forceful.

[Cindylover1969]

“Too damn bad you’re so pretty,” the agent said grimly. “I could almost like this. And I would LOVE for you to go crying to Biel about this…”
Knowing that there was no way she could go crying to Biel about this without a lot of questions she couldn’t answer, Beverley stopped struggling as Tammin gave her deeply reddened ass one last, hard crack.
“You are a dead woman, BJ,” the secretary muttered. “You don’t know who you’re playing with.”
“My name is Tammin Pamela Sursok, and I know who I’m playing with,” Tammin replied as she got to her feet and took Beverley by an arm. “Someone who is never, EVER going to call me BJ again if she wants to breathe without help. And someone who is going to make her own fucking coffee from now on.”
* * * * * * * * *
“What happened to you?” Smythe asked on seeing Tammin when she returned to base.
“We got us a snake in the grass,” she told him. “She’s down in holding; I’ve got something to tell Biel she won’t want to hear.”
“Believe me, if it’s like what’s been happening here she definitely won’t want to hear it.”
“What do you mean?”
Smythe looked as if someone had stolen the Kate Upton pictures he had by his desk and replaced them with Snooki as a joke (again). “While you were out the systems got hit by some virus. Tech can’t understand it – the firewalls usually keep stuff that’s only just been developed out, that’s how updated ours are…”
“You’re kidding!”
“Yeah, Biel would be upset enough to fuck ME if her computer had been messed up… turned out hers is okay. So are most of the others – the damage seems to be mostly in where you are, BJ. Fingers crossed nothing bad’s… BJ?”
Tammin raced towards her cubicle, praying that what her mind was telling her was wrong as she logged in and checked her files.
“DAMMIT!”  Whatever had gotten onto the system had wiped out some of her music files, a few emails…
…and the information from Verizon.  Both the files in the emails and the copies she had made for her files on the investigation. Gone.  Tammin eyed the screen in disbelief, willing herself not to shout more.
Of course, even the most secure systems in the world could be broken into, and there was no way she could prove what she was thinking, but it was funny how they had been fine when she… and Beverley… had been here. Getting up to see her boss, she wondered how Jessica would react on hearing that Beverley Mitchell was cheating on all of them.

[Cindylover1969]

A couple of knocks on the door later, the director said “Yes?”
“Um… I found out something that I think you should know,” Tammin started as she came in. “It’s about—“
“Beverley, I know,” Jessica interrupted.
“I already told her when she took me from holding,” Beverley Mitchell explained, standing next to her boss and looking at her with what passed for pity. “We could have sorted it out…”
“Someone as promising as you lashing out against an underling… I have to admit it’s disappointing,” Jessica continued as Tammin tried to sort out what was happening. NOW she was a damn underling?
“I know you might feel a little underused here, but everybody has to go through the chrysalis stage… however, I also know these disputes can happen from time to time – petty jealousies and so on.  Beverley’s pleaded with me on your behalf, she hasn’t been seriously hurt, and I know you’re a talented operative, so I’ve agreed to give you a second chance. You are suspended from duty for a month, effective immediately. With pay, of course.”
Tammin heard everything, but didn’t believe it. Was she in some kind of alternate universe or something? Was Beverley Mitchell that good at giving head? All she could do was nod.
“I’ll show her out,” the secretary said cheerily.
Even though Tammin told her she could find her own way, Beverley still accompanied the young agent out of the office, all the way to the exit.
“Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. Forgive and forget, right?”
“Maybe….” Tammin said slowly, still in a daze as she headed out. She couldn't believe that little teacher's pet had managed to spin it so that SHE was the good guy.
As Tammin stepped through the gate, Beverley rapidly shoved a hand up the back of her skirt, moving under the panties and grabbing plenty of the agent’s ass. The shocked and angry Tammin threw her a furious glare as she squeezed, made worse by the smirk on the secretary’s face as she pulled it out.
“I OWN that now, bitch,” she sneered. “See you in a month… BJ.”
* * * * * * * * *
Troian Bellisario should have been thanking the deities. She’d come out of her coma, and she was at home – she would still need a few more weeks recovery time but she was going to be fine. And her mother was visiting, vowing not to leave until her baby was in full working order.
The trouble was, she and her mother were watching Channel 7 News, as they had been doing every day for a week. And today was the day Mrs. Bellisario had been waiting for; she had a beatific smile on her face as the reports got under way.

[Cindylover1969]

“Oh, that George Blaine… I like him. He’s so trustworthy,” she sighed. “Not like that little tart Ashley Benson.”
“Mm-hmm,” Troian agreed, not looking forward to what was coming next.
“In our top story tonight,” Ashley started, “the eight women accused of carrying out last month’s robbery of the San Francisco Union Bank have been found guilty on all counts. In addition to the theft of over eight million dollars, the gang… which included former Channel 7 reporter Hayden Panettiere…” - Troian did not miss the little smirk Ashley allowed herself on the word “former”- “have been convicted on charges of destruction of property, the murder of customer Frank Sheene, six counts of vehicular manslaughter, five counts of car theft and the kidnapping of teacher Lucy Hale and bank teller JoAnna Garcia.”
“Also,“ George continued, “the individual members of the gang have each been tied to various other crimes unrelated to the robbery; Panettiere is scheduled to be tried separately for the Torcoletti’s robbery, in part due to the efforts of our own Ashley Benson, who identified the items found in her colleague’s desk as being part of the stolen jewels, in particular a gold-trimmed opal brooch.”
“Lying little slut,” Troian hissed.
“I never did like her,” her mother agreed. “You’re better off without her.”
“I was talking about Ashley Benson,” the bedridden brunette muttered.
“She and her partners will be sentenced next week,” George continued, “and prosecutors are expected to demand the maximum sentence, given the crimes and the backgrounds of all concerned, of life imprisonment.”
“Can you change the station, please?” Troian asked as the screen showed images of each member of the groups the press was dubbing The San Francisco Eight. Her mother obliged as a mugshot of Blake came up, flicking it over to a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy.
“Perfect timing – some sites have pictures of them all asking ‘Which One Of These Would You Do?’ I hear that leggy blonde and the driver are the faves…  it’s Foxy Knoxy all over again. At least there was only one of her… time I started making dinner anyway.” She patted her daughter as she got up. “You’ll find someone else. Someone who isn’t a thief and a liar.”
As she headed to the kitchen, Troian ignored the TV set and turned onto her side. She had already found someone who wasn’t a thief or a liar, and now Hayden was going to go to prison for something she didn’t even DO. Digging her fingers into her palms, Troian shook her head.
“I’m getting you out, baby girl,” Troian whispered, her eyes starting to dampen. “Come hell or high water, I’m getting you out.”
* * * * * * * * *
JoAnna Garcia was so glad to be at home; back in the arms of Jason, and away from those monsters.
And by monsters she meant the press – as soon as the cops had brought her back to San Francisco they’d been wanting to know if she’d been hurt, if it was true they were all lesbians and so on.

[Cindylover1969]

(JoAnna flatly refused to talk to any of them, saying she just wanted to leave it behind her, and Jason – bless him – had personally told the jackals outside their place that he’d give them an exclusive through their ears if they ever bothered her again).
“You could take some time off, you know,” he told her, stroking her hair. “You don’t have to go straight back to work like this…”
“I want to get back to normal,” she replied. “It’s the best way to deal with this. For me, I mean… I don’t know about Lucy.”
“Well, different strokes…  JoAnna, did they…  try anything? I know one of them was hot for that teacher they took with you, but did they…?”
“No,” she said truthfully. “Not a thing.”
“Good,” he said, kissing her shoulders. “I’d have hunted them down if they had, I swear.”
Jason’s lips moved from her shoulders to her chest, heading down her body as JoAnna relaxed; he rarely went first, and it was always a bonus when he did. But from the moment the tip of his tongue touched her slit, she found herself imagining it belonged to a tall, beautiful sloe-eyed young woman with coffee-coloured skin and curves to die for… as Jason licked and probed, JoAnna tried to push Shay Mitchell out of her mind.
Sometimes she succeeded. Briefly.
* * * * * * * * *
“So I hear you’re off to Mexico?” Brandon asked Lucy.
“Yeah,” she smiled as the two walked down the street; it was the weekend, Golden Gate Elementary was over and done with until Monday, and now they were off to have a drink. “Booked the ticket last night, heading off at the end of the month. A whole fortnight without worrying about the Montgomery girls…”
“They’ll be Jaime Sommers’ job, poor kid.”
“Ah, she loves it…”
Brandon was distracted by two good-looking women heading in the opposite direction; he instinctively turned to look at them before he remembered he was with company, and winced as he faced Lucy. “Oh crap, I’m sorry…”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Lucy laughed, patting his arm. “It’s not like I don’t look at hot guys – no harm, no…”
Lucy, still touching Brandon’s arm, suddenly gripped it tighter; her eyes widened, her body was shaking, and her breath was coming in short spurts as if she was choking. 
“Lucy? What’s happening? You okay? What’s wrong?”
“Get… get me away from here…” the trembling teacher gasped, her eyes locked on the store the two women had just left.