Venice Beach Dreams (Closed to milkmaiden38)

[HornyIsh69]

Venice Beach Dreams
Closed to Myself and @milkmaiden38​

*Jackson Towe was a 19 year old surfer who was raised in the slums and ghetto of Venice Beach. He was considered a perfect man. Growing up in the slums of Venice, played Pop Warner football as well as high school football. But the gridiron was not his true calling. His true calling was the waves at Venice Beach and Santa Monica while he grabbed his wakeboard. Getting ready to head over to the pier and beach to set himself up for a surfing training session before the surfing contest.

He looked around to see if the scouting talents had showed up, which they did. Today was the day of the annual Wave Surf Am Jam contest where the first prize winner will get a $5000 grand prize in cash for winning the contest. The competition was tough and others were getting good, if not better than himself and most. Last year's winner, Dalton Frank started his surfing run. His waves and stance were bar none like always. Jason O'Flaherty, the second place runner up was next to do his set. Both of these men had been named amateur surfers but do a second run in the Am Jam contest.

Next, it was Jackson's turn to do his run. His moves and stance was flawless. However, Jackson still has trouble and focus with surfing. Only then, the scouts loved Jackson but the judges had little score for Jackson. Might be 3rd place for him but better than a lower place. The next runs were decent and up to par than most people. The contest had been over for both divisions. They are calling out the men's division standings. "And in 3rd place, we have a newcomer, Ricky Santoma!!" Ricky was a year younger than Jackson and had surfed better than Jackson. But Jackson wasn't losing hope. "And 2nd place goes to...... I don't believe it!!! Jackson Towe, the third placer from last year's Am Jam!!!" Jackson had been in shock since he couldn't believe he out beat Jason O'Flaherty, a signed amateur.

"And first place, the second year in a row...... Dalt-" A female in a blue two-piece came near the emcee. She whispers in his ear. "Do what?" Whispering Dalton Frank had performance enhancing drugs in his system. "I'm sorry folks. Dalton Frank would be the grand prize winner had been tested positive for PED's. Which means Jason O'Flaherty is this years Am Jam Winner!!!" The emcee said to the audience where everyone cheered for the three and mostly Jason O'Flaherty. At the party, others were enjoying themselves and stuff.

"Damn, can't believe Jason won. And that Towe fella seems like a decent surfer, but is so persistent, y'know?" One girl talked. He heard them, then had received a call from hospital. "Mr. Towe, your test mother's results came back, and the cancer had returned in her body. The costs for her care and everything are through the roof and her premiums can't cover this." Jackson couldn't bare to hear that. He ran home in his hummer to find his ailing mother still bedriddened due to the news of her ailing cancer had spread back more.

Giving that the situation was getting slightly worse, hearing that his mother was in pain. He was strapped for cash as he only had $2500 from the second place payout from the Am Jam. The next morning, Jackson looked through the help wanted ads for his job to help his mother. There was an ad. "Wanted: Seeking an extra for an "art" film". Jackson had called the agent and wondered what the film was since he had no experience.*

 

[milkmaiden38]

https://rule34.xxx/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=7803055&tags=fruitynuns+


Ginger Blaze

The LA night sky stretched wide and empty—no moon, no stars, just black silence. The back-alley parking lot was pitch dark, no streetlamps, just shadows thick as tar. I stood at one entrance, dressed head to toe in a skin-tight leather dominatrix jumpsuit, radiating menace. Across the lot, a black van rolled in—lights off, quiet as a coffin.

“Where the fuck is Luke?” I snapped through my push-to-talk radio, disguised as a sleek necklace with a wireless earplug.

“We’re tracking his 20,” came the reply from the FBI command post, sterile and too calm.

A thin old man stepped from a grimy storefront that faced the alley. The van screeched to a stop in front of him. Four men spilled out, coats flapping—wrong season for trench coats unless you were hiding something.

“Too hot for coats,” I muttered. “Even at night, I’m moving.”

“Negative, Ginger. Stay put,” command ordered.

“Fuck off,” I replied, striding toward the van.

The coat brigade circled the old man like vultures.

“I’m not paying,” I heard him say, voice thin but defiant.

“Then you’re gonna die,” one snapped—and all four revealed bats from beneath their coats. The old man stiffened, but didn’t break.

This was my cue.

“HEY, WHO WANTS A BEATING? I’M INTO PAIN AND PLEASURE!” I yelled.

They turned towards me. Mistake. I grabbed my front zipper and pulled it down. My enormous breasts pried open my catsuit and spilled out. The men with the bats stared for a second at my beautiful assets.

“RUN!” I mouthed at the old man, as my other hand pulled out two “flash-Bang” grenades from my belt. Pins pulled. I rolled them into their formation.

“WHAT THE…” One guy yelled “GRENADE!!”

“You’re gonna get a real bang out of this,” I purred—and bolted.

The explosion was good. The van’s side windows became a shower of glass. The four men screamed in pain, blinded and deafened.

Bad news? Luke had been inside the van. He got a face full of glass. He filed for reassignment the next day. I got hit with a one-week suspension, pending an internal probe. This kind of mess? Well that is my kinda my specialty.

One Week Later

Chief Detective Owen Burns summoned me for an 0800 sit-down. “Not one minute late,” he’d warned. Naturally, I strolled into the LA FBI field office at 0830, heels clicking past rows of agent cubicles.

The peanut gallery didn’t disappoint.

“That explosion was a real meatier shower.” “You’ve got a booming business, Ginger.” “Should we start calling you ‘Ghetto Blaster’?”

I responded with grace and maturity. Middle finger raised high, held firm as I walked the length of their smug little office zoo.

Then I stepped into Burns’ office.

The man looked like a ticking heart attack.

“What’s going on, Chief?” I purred, folding into the chair with a leg draped over the arm—because why not?

“GINGER BLAZE!!” he bellowed.

“Easy, Chief. Your blood pressure’s not a fan of drama,” I replied. He’d put on weight. I was genuinely concerned.

He breathed deeply, trying to collect himself. I figured I’d speed up my own sentencing.

“I fucked up. I get it. Property damage, media circus, partner fallout—Luke was the last one. You told me if I blew it with him, I’d be done. So go ahead. Fire me. It’s the only rational option.”

Burns gave a slow grin—the kind you get right before the twist in a thriller.

“Oh, you wish you were fired. But we’ve got a better idea,” he said. “You’re being reassigned.”

I raised a brow.

“Vice, in particular, the porn division. They have an undercover job for you. Real dirty one.”

“Undercover in porn… like an actress?” I asked in shock

“Now you’re getting it” Chief Burns laughed

“Fuck!” I exclaimed in anger

“Yes… you’ll be doing a lot of that!!” Chief was still laughing.

 

[HornyIsh69]

Jackson took the chance and began to wait to hear a voice on the other end. Seeing he had no other options but to wait while the phone rang, seeing if anyone answers. There was a woman answering on the other end. "Hello? T F Studios. Anna speaking." The woman says on the line, she might have been a secretary who answered the phone. "Hi, I'm inquiring about your ad about seeking an extra for this "art" film you have in the ads." The woman looked heard this and began to transfer to the woman in charge of the supposed "art" film.

"T F Studios, Jill Lara, Talent Agent Speaking." Another woman answers since she was the one Jackson might be looking for. "Hello. My name is Jackson Towe. I am inquiring about your ad in the paper. The one about you seeking an extra for an "art" film?" Jackson said to her, hoping for an answer from her where she does bring him somewhat of a true straightforward answer. "Yes. We are actually looking for an extra in our film. "Fire's Passion". Were you interested, Mr.....?" *Jackson tells the woman his name.* "Towe, Jackson Towe." *He said to her, making sure she got his name. He was quick to answer her question.* "Yes ma'am. I am very much interested." Jackson said to Jill, over the phone and began to write everything down. The address to the studio, his meeting time, the works. "Uh-huh. 11 AM, Today? I can certainly do that. Yep. Yep. Thanks, Ms. Lara. I look forward to meet with you."

Jackson grabbed the keys to his Hummer and then said to his mother.* "Don't worry, mama. I will make the necessary funds for you and get you the best recovery and treatment you richly deserve." *He gets into the Hummer and drives over to Los Angeles, which was 21 minutes away from where he lived. Ironically, on the radio, the punk rock band X played their song "Los Angeles" while Jackson was making his latter commute to LA. He drives to T F Studios, the studio that Jill Lara said she'd meet with him at.

However, there was another vehicle. He parked next to the vehicle. Who did this vehicle belong to? And who was the person coming out of the vehicle?