A flashfoward

Max's knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of her motorcycle tightly spinning it, revving the engine.

She was speeding down the Downtown highway at round 1am. Her mind was flooded with the memories of what had occurred a little under an hour ago.

The swirling thunder clouds overhead mirrored her mood; the anger she felt toward Simmons. The flash of lighting triggered the memory of Paul Gibbons massaging and kneading her pert breasts on the sofa in DA, Chris Florien's home, her thoughts flooded with the purring pleasure that escaped her lips.

Another flash of lighting; she saw herself knelt between Florien's knees, thrusting his long smooth dick in her hand, her lips slurring up and down it's length. Behind her, Gibbons was slowly gliding himself in and out of her moist love slit, sending chills up her spine.

A loud rumble rolled through the sky as she remembered the intense ecstasy of riding Florien's cock, as Gibbons shoved himself deep into her ass. She had rocked herself between the two men, allowing them to ravage her tight little body, fuck her until she was screaming bloody ****.

The strong onslaught of liquid precipitation splashed against her face as the floodgates of the heavens opened, and she sighed as she recalled the three sharp orgasms that flooded her body in quick succession

Max shook the thoughts away. She had to find away out of this mess.

"Walter", she thought to herself.

He was a sleaze, but he had some street cred. If she could make it worth his while, he would find a way to get Simmons off her back.

The problem was making it "worth his while"