Paulette Smalls - Come and get it!

The other papers, which contained local listings, usually didn't include telephone numbers or addresses. Instead, there usually was a newspaper code number to which you had to send a letter, then wait for it to be answered. Even if he sent off a few letters that very morning, he doubted whether he'd receive a reply before his vacation was over.

Still, Doug read on, with a vague hope flickering at the back of his thoughts, turning the pages, his ever moving eyes skimming the ads. Sometimes, when he'd find one, either with an explicit, candid photo, or with a blunt, graphic message, his cock would restiffen with desire. When that happened, he would stroke himself slowly, his passion building by degrees, wondering if he should just masturbate to relieve his mounting tension, or if he should throw all the papers away and give it up as an unproductive idea.

He didn't, though. He continued to read the ads, pumping his dick, until his patience was finally rewarded. Reading the ad carefully, to make sure there was no mistake, his cock began to swell and grow hot under his fingers.

Groovy, attractive NY couple, slim, in late 20's. Seeking well built, well hung young studs for threesomes. Single females and select couples also acceptable. Well endowed blacks especially welcome. Please reply to W. Holbrook, PO Box 1432, Foyer St. Sta., NYC 10010.

The one thing which made Doug quiver with anticipation, which made this ad different from all the others was the name: W. Holbrook. Not just a Post Office Box to write to, but a Post Office Box with a person's name on it. And a name could be traced and tracked down. True, it wasn't as good as an address, or a telephone number, but if W. Holbrook had a telephone, which seemed probable from the eager tone of the ad, he might yet be found.

For an instant, a brief fantasy, flashed through Doug's thoughts, as he anticipated locating the couple in the ad. In it, they greeted him eagerly, passionately, accepting him into their home and bed that very afternoon. She was blonde and gorgeous, with an, incredible build, and an indescribably delicious mouth as she eagerly deep-throated his cock. He fucked her in the ass, while her husband fucked her mouth, and all three of them came simultaneously, his sperm pulsing hotly up her rectum.

Dangerously close to coming, Doug released his throbbing cock, forcibly pushing the vivid image out of his conscious thoughts. He was breathing deeply, and his naked flesh was just beginning to glisten with perspiration. In his chest he could feel his heart pounding strongly, his stomach tight, his body tingling with expectation. Taking several deep breaths to calm himself, he sat up, swinging his trembling legs over the side of the bed. The naked floor was cold, sending shivers up through his feet.

Okay, he thought, now to find them. First place to look: the telephone. Call information and see if they have a listing for a W. Holbrook.

His hand was trembling as he picked up the receiver of the telephone. Holding it to his ear, he dialed 9, to get an outside line, and then he dialed New York City directory, assistance. It rang thirteen times before an operator answered.

"I'd like a listing for a W. Holbrook, please." He spelled the name for the operator. "Yes, that's in Manhattan. A residence, yes."

The operator put him on hold. "I'm sorry, Sir, I have no listing for W. Holbrook in Manhattan. Do you have an address?"

A stab of disappointment made him wince. "No, I don't. Are you certain? Could you check again?"

"One moment, please." This time she did not put him on hold, and he could hear her flipping the pages of her directory. "I'm sorry, Sir. I show no listing for that name."

Doug pressed her further. "Well, is there anyone with a first name that begins with a W.? Either male or female?"

"No, Sir, I'm sorry."

"You're certain?"

"Would you like me to connect you with my supervisor?"

"No, that won't be necessary."

Doug hung up the receiver, and, sat a moment or two in thought. One hand still held onto the telephone.

Either they don't have a telephone, W. Holbrook isn't their real name, or they don't live in Manhattan, even though they have a Manhattan Post Office Box, he thought, trying to reason the problem out. He sat, tapping his thumbnail against his teeth, as he often did when he was preoccupied. There was one other possibility: an unlisted number.

He picked up the telephone again, dialed 9, dialed directory assistance again. To get the kind of information he was looking for, he knew he couldn't go about it in an orthodox fashion. He would have to assume a role.

"Directory assistance, operator 733."

"Operator, I'd like a listing for W. Holbrook, in Manhattan," he said, going on the outside possibility the first operator had been inefficient, and had missed the number. It wouldn't have been the first time. Unfortunately, this operator came back with the same information. He made her check again, as he had the first, and when the answer still was no, Doug put his plan into action. "Operator, it's very urgent that I get in touch with these people. I'd appreciate your assistance."

"I'm sorry, Sir. There's nothing I can do." Her voice whined nasally, professionally. "Unless, of course, you can give me an address to look up."

"The only address we have on their contract," Doug said, playing his role, letting the word slip out naturally, "is a Post Office Box in Manhattan."

"Have you tried writing them?"

Doug sighed with false exasperation. "At least five or six times. And we tried billing them. But still no response. I guess we'll just have to turn this over to our attorney's for collection." He paused, purposely. "Unless… there is one other possibility."

"Sir?"

"They still might have a telephone, but it might be unlisted."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I couldn't give you that information."

"Oh no," Doug quickly assured her, "I'm not asking for their telephone number or their address. All I'm asking you to do is check your listings and tell me if there is any W. Holbrook listed for Manhattan. If they have a number, even if it's unlisted, I'd at least know they were still in New York."

"I'm sorry, Sir, I don't think I could…"

"You wouldn't be giving me any information, operator," he urged, trying to charm her with the sexy resonance of his voice. "All you'll be doing is telling me if they have a telephone, or if they do not."

Her voice faltered. "That's highly irregular, Sir. I could lose…"

"You'd be helping them, Miss. You'd be saving them a great deal of money and the embarrassment of a court case. They'd thank you for it, I'm sure."

She exhaled. "All right. One moment, please." She put him on hold. A minute went by. "I checked, Sir, and our records show no listing for that name."

Doug sighed. "Thank you, operator. You've been a big help." He hung up.

After that, systematically, he called all five of New York City's boroughs, and came up with two W. Holbrooks. One was in Brooklyn, the other in the Bronx. He called the Brooklyn one first, and was cursed at and hung up on by an outraged husband. There was no answer from the Bronx.

Even that didn't deter him. If it was at all possible, Doug was going to locate W. Holbrook – if it took all day. He was determined to find them. It had become a challenge to him, a kind of game he was trying to win. He felt like a kid, playing detective, and he tried to think in those terms. What would Sherlock Holmes do if he were trying to find the elusive Mr. Holbrook?

On the outside chance that W. Holbrook lived on Long Island and worked in New York, Doug also called Nassau and Suffolk information. He found two more W. Holbrooks, both of whom were home, and both of whom were the wrong W. Holbrook. He hung up in mounting frustration.

What now? He thought, clicking his teeth with his thumbnail.