* * * *
I groaned as I woke up, sweating and shaking. I hadn’t been out on one of the jobs that required me to erase someone, resulting in a bad night, but this had been a real lulu of a dream in its own right, with me getting f****d orally and anally. The dream had recurred on and off since I’d transferred to DC a few years before, and I’d wake with my hand on my c**k and my shorts a sticky mess.
In the past six months, it had become more frequent, but since my friend Michael’s death, I’d been having it every night.
Usually, the men having me were faceless and nameless; this time it had been just one—Mark Vincent. I had to meet him in his office in a matter of hours. How the hell was I going to face him?
“Jesus, I need to get laid,” I muttered to myself. My job meant too much to me to
