1. Laney Scoops the City


    Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: LushStories, Rating: 95.8, Source: sexstories.com

    given you enough insurance not to need ask,” she snapped, itching to slap the fucker. “Yeah, I guess you did, little whore.” “My name's Laney,” she told him, “and I'd like to go clean up if you're gentleman enough to allow that.” He laughed that mocking laugh and she bit down her anger. “Sure,” he said. “Why not? Go rinse my cum outa your asshole and remember how much fun I had pumpin' it in there. Then get the fuck outa here and do your job.” He turned her around and sent her in the direction of the bathroom with a final hard slap to her ass. Class act to the last, that was Jake Milazzo. * * * * “This,” Mike Dennehy said, holding up the new edition of the Chronicle, “makes an old newspaperman very proud.” Colour had returned to his face and, while he was still rigged to a heart monitor, most of the ugly tubing had been removed. Within a week or so, he'd be back in his apartment, on the proviso that Laney called in daily to check on him. She looked again at the front-page headline: Feet of Clay? Its sub-headline read: Gus Ferrante Denies Mob Connections. The Mayor could deny all he liked. Rumours which had persisted for years were firming up by the day and Laney's investigative work had played no small role. Her pursuit of the leads supplied by Milazzo had led to some highly useful sources, including an ex-mob accountant with a limited life-expectancy, a grudge and no scruples about being named. Ferrante's days in office seemed numbered. “I don't know how you did it, kid,” ...
    Mike said, slapping the paper back on the bed, “but I take back what I said. You've got everything it takes and more. You scooped the City Post while they sat with their thumb up their collective ass. Tell me how you did it.” “I will once you're out of here,” she promised, squeezing his arm. Well, some of it. Mike was all pride in his protege and surrogate daughter. He might have a whole new cardiac episode if he knew she'd been fucked in every hole by Jake Milazzo, the whole thing committed to camera in exchange for his confidence. In one afternoon she had sold her ass along with every principle, professional and personal, that she ever had – whatever the justification. She shifted uncomfortably at the crude recollections, fighting their thrill, and moved the conversation back to the unfolding fate of Gus Ferrante. Mike and she had been chatting warmly for some minutes when her cell buzzed. Her mouth dried and her pulse quickened when she recognised the caller. “Lemme get this,” she told her senior colleague, before stepping outside. “Yes?” She summoned up her most professional tone. “Nice work, hot-shot. You stitched up Ferrante good. It's nice to see that bastard squirm.” “I'm glad you like my work,” she answered primly, trying to keep the shake out of her voice. “I like all your fuckin' work, princess,” Jake said, a note of appreciation leavening his lust. “And you didn't let me down.” “A good journalist always protects her sources,” Laney said, “whatever home movies they ...
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