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A Bad Call

By: scotjock1



(CAUTION: This story entails a fictional account of rape, of a fictional female Police officer. None of this is based on a real event, and all of it is fictional in basis. I do not condone rape, or non-consentual sex of any kind. This is a piece of fictional fantasy, and nothing more. ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. Please enjoy.) 

*

It was almost 9:30pm, and it was dark since it was the month of late October. PC Cheryl Ray, was on her way to a call that came over the radio. Radio control had reported to her that she was required to go to an address, and take a report of crime from an anonymous caller at the location. The problem was this call should have gone to officers in a car, or vehicle since Cheryl was on her own this even, on solo patrol.

However the entire borough was busy dealing with a horrific gang fight, outside a local take-away that saw one young man die from his stab wounds, and another in critical condition at the local hospital. All officers and units had been scrambled to the crime scene, to scour for witnesses and view CCTV footage.

So PC Cheryl Ray was sent to the call, it was reported as an anonymous witness to a crime of criminal damage but they refused to give their details, and had called from a public pay phone, and not from a mobile phone. Either way Cheryl was not happy, she had only three and a half hours left of her shift, and she was expected to book off at midnight and then go home. But if this report of crime was a big one, she'd be expected to stay and write it up on the Police Station's computers for a Detective to view in the morning, who would then investigate the matter.

The only reason PC Cheryl Ray was alone tonight on patrol, was that her usual partner Danny had called in sick just as her shift had started, being she was an experienced officer with several years of experience her superiors thought she could handle a solo patrol tonight.

Cheryl was a driver however, and should have been in the Reporting Car to patrol and take reports of crime, but it was out on loan to CID (Criminal Investigation Department) and their detectives. So she was on foot tonight, and she didn't like it one bit.

Being a female officer did bring a lot of hassle, from men she arrested commenting on her body or sex but to be alone was something entirely different. She wasn't expected to go in and attempt to arrest someone on her own, who committed a crime but she was expected to take reports at least. And usually going to locations, to take reports of crime from victims or witnesses never came with much danger or trouble.

Cheryl was a big girl, she had joined the Metropolitan Police Service in London several years ago, as a fit, petite woman. But now she had gone up in size, almost fourteen and a half stone in weight, with a big ass that measured more than a few inches in size. She was barely into her thirties, but most men saw that big arse of hers or her big chest and would comment on it.

She had to wear extra baggy work trousers, loose shirts but of course with her large chest and torso she did struggle to wear the regulation stab-vests all operational officers wore on patrol.

She did struggle at times to breath with her vest on, or when she had to walk fast or chase after someone. Either way she was a voluptuous woman, and she had to put up with the constant chain of jokes directed at her breasts, or arse and of course the staring; but take it with a pinch of salt as it were.

Weirdly however, even with a body most men fantasied about Cheryl had been single for almost a year now, and hadn't had sexy in almost the same amount of time. It wasn't that she didn't want a man, or sex with one; it was that outside of her job she was caring for her sick mother, and trying to make sure her sister who also cared for their mother didn't lose her home due to rent-arrears.

With so much on her mind, outside of work she barely had time to even register men's sexual interest in her.

So tonight she didn't think much of the call, to what sounded like a block of flats near an industrial estate about a ten minute walk from the Police Station. 

No fear, no suspicion of whoever she was meant to meet. So at almost 9:40pm, she turned the street corner into the empty courtyard the block of flats were located on. It was empty, not one was around and the known fact about this area was that most of the flats in this building were deserted, and boarded up by the council as being unsafe to live in.

It wasn't really known for gangs, but it was a known drug hotspot used by users to safely take their drugs without Police intervention. She walked up to the open, well to be honest the damaged from door of the building.

Today Cheryl was wearing her regulation uniform; white short, black stab-vest, black work trousers, boots, female patrol peaked-cap and of course her kit-belt where her handcuffs, CS gas, and Police Baton were.

Cheryl had black hair that stopped just below her ears, and had dark brown eyes. She was struggling to breath once more, with her vest on. She looked around waiting to be approached by the informant who wanted to report the crime.

Cheryl brought her radio to her mouth.

"Control, this is PC Ray. I'm near the location where the informant should be, any other information you have on the individual?"

The radio crackled, as the controller in the building where the radios were linked to spoke clearly.

"Nothing, we were told that someone wanted to report the crime of criminal damage but they gave no other information. The voice of the caller was male however, that's all we know."

Cheryl sighed.

"Understood, thank you Control."

Putting the radio on it's clip attached to her stab-vest, she waited.

About five minutes had passed, when she saw a hooded man standing near the doorway of another entrance to the building.

"Here, officer." He called over.

Cheryl was a bit on edge, she didn't even know if this was the informant. This area was known for drugs, and petty crime. What if the person calling her over, was going to signal a resident to throw a fridge or cooker from a window to injure her?

Either way she had a job to do, and she wanted to get home as soon as possible.

"Stay where you are, Sir."

But he wasn't listening, and disappeared into the doorway. Cheryl ran after him, and as she approached the door she looked inside and saw that this entrance was to the flats that the council had condemned, and boarded up. There was no lighting, just the smell of piss and garbage.

"Sir, where are you? Are you the man who called the Police?"

No reply.

Cheryl should have turned around, and left but then she heard the man in the distance in the darkness.

"Officer please, I need your help."

Cheryl thought perhaps something had happened to the man, maybe he had fallen over inside the building and hurt himself.

She stepped inside the dark corridor, over broken glass bottles and garbage. Slowly she moved further inside, and was about to turn around when a hand came over her mouth, muffling her voice. 

"MMMPPPHHH!" 

Cheryl tried screaming into the gloved hand over her mouth, but she was not that fit to put up a fight. The own of the hand over her mouth found her handcuffs, and as she stood there helpless the hand took her flailing wrists, and handcuffed them behind her back.

"Shut up, or I will hurt you officer."

She was handcuffed, and unable to scream and yet the voice chilled her to her very bones.

She stopped struggling, not wanting to provoke her attacker. 

He was quick, no longer fighting him he was able to unzip her vest and open it wide until her big chest hidden behind the shirt was revealed to the man. He wasn't stopping there, unbuckling her kit-belt it fell to the floor. His hands were deft, and fast as they found her trouser belt and undid them within a second.

"There we go, you are a big girl aren't you."

Cheryl was helpless as she felt the man make his comment, before grinding what sure felt like a hard bulge up against her fat arse.

Cheryl felt him begin to undo the buttons of her white shirt, one by one from the top down to the last one. The shirt opened, showing Cheryl's big breasts and the simple, light pink bra that held them in. It wasn't anything flash, but a simple cotton designed bra. It wasn't' doing much good, as her breasts seemed to almost spill out from the top.

"Big tits, you have officer."

She clenched her eyes shut, and began to cry as she realised how stupid she had been to go into this building without back-up seeing how dangerous it was. She should have told control she was refusing to go inside without back-up, now she was going to pay the price.

The man produced a knife, and cut the front of the bra where the cups were connected apart and her big tits slouched, and hung there between the destroyed bra.

"I'm going to rape you officer Ray."

The man said looking at the name-tag of the vest, and knew her name.

"Cheryl, that's a nice name for a big tit cop like you."

He was laughing as his hands began to push her breasts high, and maul them in his hands as Cheryl cried.

The attacker moved his hands from her bare breats, to the trousers and found the button and zip of the crotch, and pulled down her trousers to expose her big, granny-panty light pink panties. They were so big they stretched over her bottom, but still were loose and not clinging to her body. The front of the panties sadly, being so loose didn't offer her much in terms of coverage. The crotch was transparent, and the man saw that she had wisps of black, coarse hair peeking out around the sides of the panties and what looked to be a bush behind the transparent material. She was a very hairy girl around her pussy, but the rest of her body was smooth in particular her legs.

"God girl, you don't shave your pussy. I don't mind, I like to rape real women, no models."

His comment made Cheryl cry and weep, as he put his hand against her crotch and felt the heat from it, as well as the pubic hairs poking out.

Cheryl was hairy around her pussy, and very slightly around her anus since she never shaved thinking she wasn't going to meet a guy. She never went out drinking or clubbing, and so forgot to maintain her woman parts. Naturally her legs were smooth, which she shaved regularly since she did go jogging and running. She wished now she had shaved herself, but then thought through the tears that if she was smooth and shaven he'd see more than he was seeing now.

He slid his hand inside her panties, now feeling the thick bush she had around her pussy. He pushed his fingers through her hairs, and found her hidden slit. She wasn't wet or lubricated. 

The man smiled, and brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them; lathering them in saliva before moving them back to her cunt, and prising her lips wide open. He felt how tight she was, but managed to force his three fingers inside her. He hurt her, and so she screamed into his gloved hand. It came out only as a muffled scream, as he sawed his fingers in and out of her without a care for her body or how he was hurting her. Not being lubricated, meant she was really feeling herself stretching around his probing fingers.

She knew she was probably the best example of a typical woman, one not really immersed in sex to really want it, or enough to maintain her body for the benefit of a man. Yet she was being raped by a man who saw the benefit, the appeal of raping a 'regular' woman most men probably don't look at, or actually joke about her size and body.

He yanked down her simple, wide panties down her legs until her bush was exposed to the wind of the corridor and she shivered. She was wet, but not by choice; his probing, wet fingers had lubricated her tight snatch enough now that he had four of his fingers inside her. She felt like she was being opened up by a thick pipe, now her pussy was gaping, wet and loose around his fingers.

She was being violated, by a man she hadn't even seen his face yet. He pushed her trousers down fully around her ankles, and noticed she was wearing black nylon, socks that reached almost to her knees. She was so simple, so demure that she even wore something older women wear under her uniform. The idea, the thought simply made her attacker more horny for her.

"Now let's see if you can take a cock, officer. If you scream, I'll make you regret it."

Slowly his gloved hand left her mouth, and she was gasping for air but was not screaming as the man now used both his hands to undo his own belt around his jeans to get his cock out. She was shackled, but heard his belt come undone and then felt it, his thick, fat cock pressed up against her arse.

The last time she felt a cock pressed up against her, was an officer she worked with called Eddie and he was not as big as this guy was. He was almost small, regardless the fact he wanted to fuck her made her feel wanted even if he was finished quickly. Now she felt a cock worthy of being in porn pressed up against her, one that would stretch her holes wide open. She should have felt honoured a man with a cock this big wanted to put it in her, but she knew the reality was this was still rape even if this man in different circumstances would more than please her.

He was pushing it between her big, fat buttocks into her crevice and arse crack. Her arse felt like it was sucking his cock inside it, because of how big and thick her bottom was. The fact that it was swallowing up a cock his size, surprised even Cheryl.

He positioned his cock at her pussy, through the bush she had that her pubic hairs tickled his shaft, he felt his cock-head slide inside her easily since he had opened her up by hand already.

She was helpless, and screaming about it was not going to stop the rape from happening anyway. She gasped as his whole cock slid inside her, making her feel like she was sitting on a metal pipe right up her vagina.

So much meat, filled her that she couldn't believe that this was what a big cock would feel like inside her. Even though she never really thought of sex, when she did think of it she 

always fantasised of having a boyfriend with a big cock, big enough to impale her on.

Well he wasn't a boyfriend, he was her rapist but she did feel impaled on his bone.

In and out, she was dazed and tired just from being fucked. Her head hung limply, as he held her body against him holding her up.

He was strong, she caught glimpses of his thick arms and muscles. He was either a regular gym user, or just built strongly.

For a stereotypical rapist, being some scrawny guy who just happened to be fast and quick Cheryl's rapist was exact opposites. He was strong, with a big penis and easily a dominating personality.

"Please stop this, I beg you."

Cheryl was pleading, as fresh tears came to surface. He wasn't listening, as he pulled on her black hair that was in a ponytail beneath her cap, throwing the band aside letting her hair fall out fully.

"Stop this, but I'm enjoying myself. Raping a bitch cop."

He was laughing as his cock rammed in and out of her, as if she was an animal pinned down by a predator in mating season.

The ordeal went on for minutes, he had stamina. He eventually grunted, and she knew what was coming. Regardless of his threat, he was going to cum inside her with semen and she could end up pregnant.

"No please! I don't want to get pregnant!" 

But the gloved hand came back, and covered her mouth and stifled her pleas as his cock shook, before spurting inside her pussy with it's warm, hot seed.

Holding her in place, as his seed pumped inside her until it overflowed and ran down her legs he eventually pulled his limp penis out of her.

She was crying, weeping into his gloved hand as she hung her head limply, in shame.

Her eyes clenched shut, to stop her tears she head him putting his jeans back on and belt, but he wasn't letting her go.

"Oh you thought we were done, officer Cheryl. Oh no I planned for a romantic evening with you, in one of the flats upstairs. I've got a mattress and everything for you, because I care about you." 

He laughed, lifting her over his shoulders before carrying her up a flight of stairs to the first floor of the building.

She couldn't see anything except his hooded top, as her head was hung facing his chest. A minute or so passed, when he had carried her into one of the condemned rooms and threw her on a mattress.

"Relax, the mattress is new. I brought it here last night, I didn't know if a female officer would answer the call I made. But sometimes it does happen, my luck was that you were on patrol alone tonight and, here you are."

She was on the mattress on her back, staring up at a crumbling ceiling. Her attacker was removing everything she wore, except her socks. But the boots came off, as did her trousers and shirt and vest until she was naked from the legs upward. He quickly re-cuffed her wrists, before looking down at her naked himself stroking his thick cock, which was rock-hard again.

"Haven't you had enough?"

The man laughed, and Cheryl finally saw him with his hood down. He had dark brown hair, and blue eyes with a thick stubble beard. He could be called handsome, if she didn't know him in these circumstances. Had he not just violated her, of course.

He was looking down at her, as he turned on a torch that was positioned on the floor, angled upwards so the light illuminated the mattress and let him see his victim more clearly.

"God you are beautiful, a beautiful woman."

Cheryl looked away, his comment was vile and made her weep once more.

"You'll never get away with this."

The man cackled.

"You're kidding me right, you're really going to pursue capturing me for this crime. When you'll be known for the rest of you life, as a rape victim, and not just that but a female officer who stupidly went to a dangerous place like this without calling back-up?"

He laughed once more, stroking his cock at the same time.

"You'll never live it down in your professional career, you'll never be allowed to forget that you're now damaged goods."

"No, you're going to say nothing about this. Not now that I know your name, and everything; when I can always come back for seconds."

She whimpered, as he spoke.

He wasn't making an idle threat, he would come after her again if he wanted to, but he certainly would he was arrested for doing this to her.

"Good girl, you know it makes sense."

Cheryl said nothing more, as she saw him mount the mattress with her, kneeling at her head with his knees either side of her head. She knew what he was doing, there was only one position he could be going for here. He was going to force her to give him a blow job.

Cheryl detested oral sex, with men. She hated the idea of a stinking, wet, small penis in her mouth that she had to suck or lick. Now that thought alone terrified her, but she already knew first-hand what his cock was like and how he used it. The thought of him fucking her mouth, of forcing his big cock down her throat made her cry even more. She was facing every sordid act of sex, of forced sex with a man that most women in the right circumstances would fuck without question being so well-endowed.

"No, get away from me. It's too big, you'll hurt me."

But he wasn't listening, holding her head in place with one hand down on the mattress he used his other to guide and aim his cock at her lips. Pushing forwards, he forced open lips wide around his cock-head and no matter how hard she tried to push away, or stop him his cock entered her mouth regardless.

She began to cry, as she looked up and saw his cock sliding in and out of her mouth effortlessly. She didn't want to hurt herself, by trying to hurt him. His cock had forced her mouth wide open, her cheeks puffed out as if she was blowing air from her lungs in water.


A Bad Call



This ordeal was too much for her, and Cheryl broke down as she gagged and choked on his cock. She let her attacker get on with his plan, better he finished soon than to make him want to keep putting her through her ordeal out of spite.

A few minutes passed, and her jaw hurt as she was forced to keep her mouth wide open for her attacker.

Eventually he pulled from her mouth, wiping pre-cum on her face and cheeks. He hadn't cum inside her, but there was enough pre-cum to coat her face.

"Now we're almost done, sweetie. Just one more hole, that I want."

Cheryl had heard enough, she knew he was referring to anus. He was going to rape her in the arse, he was going to butt-fuck her. She thrashed around, trying to pull away but it was useless as the brute turned her over onto her front face down on the mattress.

She never even thought of the prospect of being fucked in her rectum before, the idea of butt-sex never really frightened her or sickened her, she had just never experienced it before. She did watch porn, where women seemed to enjoy it. But that was different, they were actresses and anal in porn is done very differently to now. Her attacker was unlikely to be gentle, or lose lubrication other than his own saliva and semen. Plus those women had done anal many times in porn before, she had never done it at all until this evening.

She couldn't move, he was pinning her down by her neck to the mattress as her legs were forced wide open by him, and she was spread eagle almost. His groping hand slid between her inner-thighs, passed her bush and up to her rectum he found it with his fingers. There were a few wisps of hair around her anus, and the skin around it was dark brown in contrast.

"Peekaboo, I found you."

Cheryl was crying wildly into the mattress, as he began to push his index finger against her puckered, anus. She frantically tried to thrash, to pull away but she was paralysed to the ground as his index finger, slowly but surely invaded her anus all the way up to his knuckle as she cried in pain.

"In out, shake it all about."

His comments were vile, and she could not stand his vile tone or voice saying them. 

His finger slipped in and out, as her puckered anus widened around it, before he was easily sliding it in and out. He prised open her anus hole, and shoved another finger inside. The same sharp pain returned, reminiscent of the first finger going in for the very first time.

"Jesus, and you've not been fucked in the arse before. I find that hard to believe, with one as gorgeous as yours."

"No please, my arse is not for this!"

He laughed again, even his laughter sent a chill down Cheryl's body.

"I beg to differ, God before I fuck you up the arse Cheryl. I'm going to taste it, shove my face between those fat, doughy cheeks of yours and taste you."

She began to cry, this was all too vile to comprehend. First to be forced to fuck him, then to be forced for him to taste her orifices she'd never imagined a man ever going near with a tongue. She just wanted this nightmare to end, and end fast. If the vile man wanted her arse hole, to fuck it and to taste it and her arse he could go right ahead; but just finish with her as soon as possible.

She was limp, wanting for it all to end; and no longer fighting him. She was surprised, at how limp her body was now with three fingers of his up inside her rectum.

Finally he seemed content with exploring, and opening up her rectum by hand and slid down her back stopping at her bottom. She knew what was coming, he made it clear what he was going to do.

His hands were on her arse, the gloved one no longer gloved. She felt him first rub her buttocks, squeeze them before going all out and spreading them wide open obscenely. She was only grateful not to see her body open, spread open for this man in the obscene way she knew she looked to him right at that moment.

She wasn't stupid, she knew human anatomy and knew why he had her buttocks prised open and held open. Her hairy anus was probably wide open, because of his fingers as was her pussy recently fucked. The view must have been obscene, maybe sexy to him but not in her mind. Not with her unmaintained bush surrounding her cunt, or the hairs around her rectum either.

She knew no reason, why any man would find what he was staring at as attractive, or a cause to get hard and aroused over. She knew she was on display, as an ugly pig being analysed or experimented with but knew in her mind there are some men who will fuck anything, and he was one of them men.

Without warning Cheryl gasped, as she felt him shove his entire face between her prised open cheeks. It was like touching a hot iron, for the first time and that sharp sensation hits you. That was what hit Cheryl, as his tongue found her anus and licked over it, even her hairs.

"Oh, God. Please, please just stop this."

Cheryl knew her pleas were useless, but felt better to at least voice her anger to her attacker. Rooted to the mattress, she was as stiff as a board as his tongue poked, prodded and licked her anus and wide-open vagina. He was tasting her, in the vile way he had said. This was not right, these parts of her body were not meant for this, to be tasted. Her arse was not meant to be fucked, or fingered yet here she was being subjected to it.

The moment dragged on, feeling like minutes passing as he violated her with his mouth and tongue. Eventually sated, he pulled away licking his lips and moaning.

"You are one, sexy, tasty bitch officer Cheryl. I could have you for breakfast, lunch and dinner no problem."

"None-none of this is real."

He laughed, mounting her again but not before shoving what felt like a jacket under her hips to prop her bottom up in the air, ready to mount and fuck. This was it, she was not a virgin in terms of vaginal sex, nor oral. Even though she didn't enjoy oral sex, she had given it to men under pressure from them. But the thought had never crossed her mind to give a man her anal virginity to, it was something she'd leave this world with still intact. Only one man tried to really pressure her into giving up her anal virginity, and that was a former boyfriend called Eric about five years ago.

He had asked first, then hassled and during one sex-session together tried to pin her down and force it up inside her anus, but she managed to kick him in the balls. That day, unsurprisingly Cheryl broke up with Eric, knowing his quest for her arse probably wouldn't be sated until he raped her himself and took it. Best to be safe, she thought at the time and move on.

Prising open her buttocks again, spreading them wide open in the obscene way she knew was doing, he shuffled close to exposed holes and she felt his cock prod at her anus which was wet, slick and gaping for him already. He prodded more, and managed to get the tip of his cock nestled at her rectum hole. This was now, where he had to force it inside her.

Wide open she felt him press, and his cock-head began to nudge and press into her. 

"No-no-no this is wrong! You're raping me, isn't that enough!"

Her attacker said nothing, pressing harder as she was propped up on his jacket and slowly his cock-head entered her anus. She opened her mouth, as far as it could go and couldn't breath as she felt this intrusion of what felt like a baseball bat enter a hole that most women guard with their lives.

Slowly, about an inch inside her he took a moment to breath. She guessed it was as hard work for him, as it was for her taking him. He was sweating, wiping his forehead dry as he kept her cheeks spread open and continued to push as hard as he could. He was already inside her, now he had to force each inch inside her.

It's a slow process, to take a woman's anal virginity. He knew this, he had done this already many times; once to a female paramedic called to a solo call, a teacher when she was alone in school and even a doctor when she was alone in her surgery. All three were anal virgins, all of them cried and wept when he took it from them, the same was going to happen with Cheryl.

The time dragged on, as she was forced to endure inch by inch entering her anus. She was shaking, convulsing, unable to move or even speak now that almost three quarters of his cock was buried inside her.

She felt close to passing out into unconsciousness, the pain and feeling of being packed full of something foreign was weighing heavily on her senses, and body.

Eventually he bottomed out, and Cheryl woke from a brief black-out and felt that he was now finally fully inside her.

She was now fully buggered, and raped in every way possible; anus, vagina and mouth. There was nothing more this animal could do to her.

Slowly he pulled back ,and slid back inside her beginning to fuck her as he would have fucked her pussy.

She knew she had a big arse, or bottom as it were but this man had a fascination with how big, and ugly it was in her mind. The hairy bush around her pussy, and hairs around her anus never dented him. He wanted to violate her, in every hole and every manner possible.

She blacked-out again, and awoke as he was furiously ramming his cock that had to easily be 8 inches long, and very thick into he rectum. In the time she was blacked-out, he must have continued to fuck her speeding up as he went along. Now she knew he was close to cumming, and of all places he could deposit his vile seed it was going to be her arse.

"Here we go, the last leg of the race baby." 

He was grunting, she felt he was pulling and slamming into her buttocks and arse so hard she was yelping in pain. Eventually he gasped, and grunted as if he had been stabbed or shot and she felt his seed shoot into her rectum. Being he was inside her arse, his load had only one place to go once it filled up; back out down her legs and onto the mattress.

She lay there, as time passed before he slid onto his feet and dressed. She thought he'd leave her like this, to be raped again by a passer-by but he didn't. She felt him unlocking her own handcuffs on her wrists, and she was free. She didn't bother sitting up as he stood at the doorway of the room looking at her.

"Keep your mouth shut, officer Cheryl Ray or I'll be paying you a house-call." 

He said holding out a provisional driver's license; it was Cheryl's and he had taken it from her trouser pocket. He was soon gone, and for a few moments Cheryl just lay on the mattress, before sliding off and sitting up. She looked at herself, the dried pre-cum on her face, to the cum still oozing out of her rectum and the dried cum that was now clinging to her pussy and skin.

Slowly she dressed, and eventually she was back in her uniform but obviously people could either say she was in a struggle or something, with her creased shirt and dirty face. The radio on her vest crackled to life.

"PC Ray, come in? Was it a bad call? Repeat, we need to know your current location and situation. Was it a bad call?"

Cheryl looked at her radio, and began to cry.

It had indeed been a bad call, and she was not going to ever forget it.

*

 (All feedback, and comments are appreciated and welcome EXCEPT comments trashing the story for being a non-consentual sex story, it's in the relevant story genre so please don't fill up my page with your hatred for the story. Stay out of non-consent story section, if you do not like it. Anyway for those who like these stories, hope you liked this one.) 



MJ 3: A Bad Case of Blackmail



This is the third mystery in the Marly Jackson series. I hope you enjoy the continuing adventures of Masrly and Finn!

***

He was reed thin, older than God, nearly white all over, and had the bearing of a clan chieftain. Exceptionally tall Godfrey Montgomery's head was nearly at the crown molding I'd recently put into my office. 

"Let me get this straight," I said around my cigarette. "You want me to find your blackmailer, get whatever evidence he has on you, find dirt on him, and hand him over to the police?" Come on, what do you take me for, I added silently. Montgomery was not a man you pissed off, so I kept my sarcasm to myself for once. 

"Miss Jackson- may I call you Marly?" I nodded to that and he smiled wanly. "I do not wish this person dead, I wish them to suffer the very public humiliation they have threatened me with."

That was his evil. Whatever you did, or rather, tried to do to Godfrey Montgomery, he turned back on you tenfold. There were few people I was scared of in this world, but he was one. If he demanded I do this pro bono I would, and that was saying a lot.

"All right. The first step I believe would be to ask you just what it is that he's blackmailing you about." I didn't really want to know, but I had to.

"I believe I'll take that drink you offered now," he said and finally sat down. I was suddenly glad for the repairs I'd made to my PI office, the black and white floors were polished, the wood was re-stained, the furniture all new and good. I'd redone my kitchenette and put a wet bar in the main office.

I went there now and poured him a gin and tonic, myself some whiskey. When I turned back he'd lit a cigar, the tobacco smelled of vanilla and old money, and I liked what it did against my cheap cigarettes. 

"Here you go." I set the G&T on a coaster and took my seat. Montgomery loosened his tie and took a hearty sip.

"I killed my daughter."

I was nobody's poster girl for moral goodness, but I stopped short of cold-blooded murder. I'd killed people both as a cop and as a PI, but always in self defense, or near enough. Still his confession didn't shock or even surprise me. If his daughter had wanted her inheritance early, he'd make damn sure she never saw a cent.

Gulping, I nodded. "Okay. And who knows this?"

"No one. She's missing, has been for a week. I have an associate who owns some property that was to be...demolished." Translation, I thought; firebombed. "I found a note that she had gone there to collect the money owed to me. My men didn't see her, it was an accident."

"So you've looked at your debtor and your men?"

"I have inquired by means which need not be discussed. Suffice it to say, none of them is the culprit."

They were all dead, then, or praying to be. "And what are the threats?"

"Transfer thousands at a time to a Swiss bank account. As you well know, completely untraceable."

Yeah, I knew. Not even the NSA or CIA could hack those accounts. The Swiss were the best at keeping secrets, especially mine. "How long?"

"It started the night of the destruction, a mere hour after. I hadn't even known she'd gone there. I came straight home and found her note."

I didn't need to ask, but I had to. "You've inquired about servants, employees, anyone in the house?"

He nodded and polished off the gin. Since he had domination of my fancy ashtray, I pulled out one I'd stolen from a Michigan Burger King years ago and lit another cigarette.

"I have inquired discreetly and have come upon the conclusion it was a friend of my daughter's. I can no longer inquire about this without raising suspicions. I cannot go to the police as I'm sure you can easily understand. Viktor Petrov recommended you highly."

I gulped. A Russian ex-pat oil heir, Petrov was the star violinist of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and a high ranking member of the Russian Mob. He hadn't hired me, my old cop partner, arch enemy, and sometimes lover Michael Finnegan had, on what I called "The Violin Case,' where I'd met the very scary Petrov.

Finnegan had stolen a Stradivarius from him which he was to ship to a customer in Italy, when it had been stolen from Finn's warehouse. I'd proven it had been taken by the appraiser to cover up the fact that the appraiser had actually stolen the real Stradivarius years earlier. What I had been chasing had been a top-notch fake. Petrov paid me a cool million to give Finnegan the fake, and return the real one to him, double crossing the very dangerous Finnegan.

Finnegan had not darkened my door. Yet.

One month later and a man who'd nearly killed me was sending me business. Interesting...to say the least.

"So I assume you have names, addresses, and numbers of all her friends?"

Montgomery nodded. "My assistant will fax everything over. What is your fee?"

"Ten grand to find the blackmailer, another ten to destroy his evidence, and another ten to dig up dirt on him follows my standard rates, but I'm flexible." I was quoting my old rates, what they'd been before The Violin Case. Since then I'd come up in the world, but people like Montgomery got a break, as long as I got to live.

"Thirty grand plus expenses. I'll wire you fifteen today."

I pulled out my contract and business card with the account info and slid them over. "That's my account. Have your lawyer look over the contract and fax me a copy tonight. I'll get started right away." I meant it; Finnegan I could double cross because the bastard was in love with me, Montgomery held no such feelings for anyone. I doubted he'd even shed a tear for his dead daughter.

"Very well. Miss Jack- Marly, I need this done as quickly as possible. Are these all your numbers?"

"My cell is always on me, always on. I'll work day and night, Mr. Montgomery."

He stood and stubbed the cigar out before straightening his tie. "If this works out, I will owe you a debt, and my word is my bond. It will not be forgotten."

I nodded at that, a standard agreement with the mob. We had a few in town, Russian, Italian, Chinese, but the Irish-Scot in front of me ran the modern day remnants of the Cicero gang, the Irish mob. He owned half the politicians in the state and most of the judges. If he killed me at that moment he'd never see the inside of a jail cell or court. If I did him a favor, I got a free pass on my next transgression.

Without so much as a by-your-leave, he exited quietly, and the goon on the other side of the door fell in step behind. When I saw their fuzzy shadows disappear from the glass, I let out the breath I'd been holding. Great, and angry Finnegan and now a touchy Montgomery to contend with. If he'd let me know he'd killed his daughter, that meant he had something on me, and there were a lot of skeletons in my closet.

I was expecting Finnegan at any moment, had been for the last month, but I'd heard nothing. He'd said he loved me, he had two-million-plus reasons to hate me, and I was living in the distance between greed and love.

I slammed my whiskey back and leaned into my chair, closing my eyes. Something beeped and I was out of my chair with my gun naked, but it wouldn't make sense to shoot my fax.

I checked the paper and it was Montgomery's list. No time like the present, I thought, and buttoned my suit jacket before stepping out. The first stop was a shock; Stephanie Montgomery's best friend was Julie Wojakowski. 

Julie and I had a history, and she owed me. It gave me enough hope she wouldn't shoot me on sight.

***

It was late enough in the day I found her at the Wilmette Yacht Club. Wilmette was the second suburb north of the city, full of money, and the yacht club was the best place in the country for women to meet eligible millionaires. Julie had already done that, the daughter of a retired US Senator she was the wife of a current one, the second richest woman in the state after Oprah.

They didn't let me in the front and it was no surprise. The best way to describe myself is an early thirties version of Lena Olin on a bad day, with glasses. With my pantsuits and sensible Doc Martens I didn't get many doors opened, so I sneaked in the kitchen door.

I found Julie at a table and when our eyes met, hers narrowed. She was a born and bred lady, and merely nodded in recognition, setting her drink down. I leaned against the bar and was ignored by all as she excused herself from the table.

Julie had been friends with Mary Beth Anderson, who had been murdered seven months earlier. Julie's lover Kevin had done it, and I'd saved her from ruining her marriage and name, and kept her from getting arrested. She owed me big.

She motioned me outside and I followed her onto the shore of Lake Michigan. A huge lake, on very clear days like today you could see Holland, Michigan on the other side. She used it as a backdrop perfectly, like a woman adored by the press should.

Standing against the wind, her blond hair and blue sundress made her a poetic image. In a way I hated women like her; everything was always pressed, well done, they always said the right things and looked beautiful. They seemed to have it all and carried a sugar-coated smile every day. But I knew her life was empty, she had no reason to really live, and so I pitied her.

"What now, Jackson?" She said by way of greeting, faux smile gone revealing the tactician beneath. Had she been wielding a chainsaw I wouldn't have been more intimidated.

"Another missing person, another friend, and no, you're not a suspect. I need help."

"Who now?"

"Stephanie Montgomery."

She turned to me and paled, hands out in panic as if to ward me off. "I didn't do it, I had nothing to do with it. She was an honest friend."

"I know, she told her father you were her best friend. He gave me a list of her friends, but no lovers. All I want to know is who she was seeing."

"She was part of...the group," she said hesitantly, and I sighed.

Julie and Stephanie had once paid one thousand a week for a lover. Good looking men, very seductive, well trained. Mary Beth Anderson pimped them out and blackmailed the clients, and I knew Julie had been a victim. Or had been, until her lover killed Mary Beth Anderson and tried to frame me. He was rotting in a jail cell, safely removed from suspicion. 

"Shit," I said. "Shit, shit, and more shit. Was she ever blackmailed?"

Julie shook her head, and her curly blond hair cascaded in the June sunshine. "No, she was new when it disbanded. Only ever slept with...what was his name? Brian Jarvis?"

"Ryan Madigan, actually," I said quietly. Ryan was an athletic blond who'd had a good pro football career until a broken back had ended his playing days. He'd wanted to work in Finnegan's pornos, but he was too recognizable, so Finn had whored him out.

"Yeah, him. She liked him, after it went public that Mary Beth was dead...I don't know. If she kept seeing him, she never mentioned it."

"Any more...socially acceptable men?"

"She was dating this investment banker, but only for social functions. Harry Walters. Said she couldn't stand him. She used to date this guy, she met him at a club. The kind daddy doesn't approve of?" She looked at me as if I'd understand, but at my blank look shook her head. Never had a daddy, never dated good guys, I stuck to creeps like Finn. "Biker, raced underground or something. Named Cortez."

"First or last?"

She shrugged. "That was a few months ago. Guess she thought Brian- Ryan was a safer way to go. I think Cortez might have been a little, you know."

I shook my head and pulled out a cigarette, ignoring the cute wrinkle of her nose in distaste. "No, I don't."

"He might have gotten physical. She always had marks, but she never complained. I think she paid him off to leave her alone."

"Why do you say that?"

"She mentioned something about money, her father, Cortez, but I wasn't paying attention. Cortez never came up again."

Well, that rang some bells. "That all?"

She nodded. "Marly, I'm going back in. Don't ever contact me again."

I watched her go back to her world and I lit the cigarette. She didn't have to worry that I'd darken her door again. People like her went on TV, talked to Oprah, headed up charitable balls. People like me busted balls and hustled.

I had thorough work to do.

***

I had talked to the other three friends on Montgomery's list, and all said the same thing. Cortez, the bad-boy-toy, and Harry Walters, the boring beau. My spidey-sense said Cortez was a good start, my new conscience said I wouldn't fuck him no matter how fuckable he was, and I knew where to find him.

He was in the racing circuit, but when I checked it out he'd moved on. He worked for a club, probably where Stephanie had met him. It was called Danny's, and it was a sex club.

Once again, I swore off sex for the duration of the case.

***

Danny's moved around a lot. It had to; it was illegal. And prohibitively expensive.

I had enough in the bank that I shouldn't have to worry, but I couldn't help it. Money had always been tough in my life, its recent existence was new and foreign. It cost a cool grand to get inside, and I was handed a black silk mask. I slipped it on and it covered most of my face.

Inside all the guests wore silk masks, the employees wore smaller masks that hid less, men in black, women in red. The main room was a bar, lounge, and nightclub, a meeting place. I'd been there before as a detective on murder investigations. Once you saw what was in the adjoining rooms, you'd understand why so many people killed their philandering spouses.

I surveyed the room, but no one had "blackmailer" above their head blinking in neon. Shame, that. Stephanie's friends had said Cortez left marks, and so I found the right room.

There was an arena you could step down into, or risers up into. I choose up. Here the seats were leather, the walls around each high enough for privacy, and behind each row of seats was an aisle. You could place your empty glass on a shelf behind you and a waiter would refill it without disturbing you.

I realized that not only were the half dozen people in the arena having sex, but everyone in the stands was masturbating. A nicer girl would have been disgusted, but I was turned on.

A young man caught my eye, and he wasn't having sex, but using a whip to torture and command a couple on the floor. They followed his every soft-spoken order though he was half their age. I watched his muscles flex, dry mouthed, and unzipped my pants.

I had recently been introduced to BDSM, and I found myself aroused by it. This young master was fantastic, the couple on the floor gleamed with sweat. He contorted them, forcing the man to drive into the woman hard, drawing screaming grunts from her. Both lovers clutched at each other, nails drawing blood as he built them up but kept them from release.

I timed the strokes of my fingers to every thrust of the man on the floor. At last their pleading won over the master, and he let them go, flying free. I frigged myself hard until I came, forcing myself to be quiet in shyness, though I heard many moans and grunts all around me.

The couple bowed to their master, who jerked a nod. His body was strained, aroused, unsatiated, but he merely coiled the whip and turned to leave.

I scrambled down to the arena and put my hand on his arm. "Cortez?"

He turned so swiftly I knew he was my man. "I'm sorry, who are you looking for?"

"After the club closes, meet me at the Denny's down the street. Be there or I'll come back. I only have a few questions for you."

I left him then and made my way outside. When things shut down as they were starting to there was a long line for the valet and we all kept our masks on.

Every car was nice, I shuddered at the thought of my Olds rolling up to the curb. Just when it did I felt a gun in my back and heard a familiar voice in my ear.

"Get in and don't make a scene."

"Finn," I said with a shaky voice.

"In the flesh," he purred, and I truly didn't know if he was going to kill me or fuck me. Something spiked in my blood. Oh yeah, the worse they were, the more I wanted them.

I sat down and he followed. I saw then that the safety was on and breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn't dead: yet.

"I'm working a case and have to meet a suspect soon."

"Whipping boy? I saw. And if you think I'm going to let you fuck another man I may as well kill you with my bare hands."

"Oh goody. What are we talking, murder-suicide, Finn? I'm not really in the mood."

"Drive north," was all he said and shut off the radio, cutting Frankie Valli off in mid syllable.

I headed north on Lincoln, having a feeling he wanted to take me home. Goody; ninety five percent of all murders occurred in the home between loved ones. I was screwed.

"I'm not going to fuck him. I've sworn off men."

"Shut up," was all he said but it wasn't harsh.

The patience I heard there was what got me. I swerved into the turn lane and slammed on the bakes, throwing him into the dash. "Always buckle up, asshole," I said and grabbed the gun.

I took the safety off and gave the finger to the honking car behind me, putting on my blinkers. He recovered and pulled off his mask, revealing a bruise, and bags under his startlingly blue eyes. Finn always had been and always would be the best looking man I'd ever seen, not in spite of but because of the broken nose, crooked smile, and wary cop eyes.

He smoothed a hand through his dark wavy hair as cars began to go around us. "Jesus, Marly."

"Look you want your money back? I'll wire it tonight. You want an explanation? I'll give it. You want to kill me? Tough shit, Finn."

"I don't want any of that, Marly. I don't need it."

"Then what do you want?"

"This," he growled, and kissed me. It was brutal and warm, consuming, and made me swiftly change my mind on my celibacy. The gun fell from my hand as I grabbed his shoulders and licked at his tongue.

He bit mine and jabbed the gun in my ribs.

"Fuck," I said.

"That's what I had in mind."

***

Surprisingly reason got through Finn's lust-addled mind. Actually, it was Montgomery's name, which got through everyone's distractions. He insisted on accompanying me to the Denny's as I explained the case.

This did not bode well. Almost all of my cases went smoothly, boringly well, but when Finn was along for the ride everything went FUBAR. 

Cortez was a rather plain looking man with good bones, an earring, and longish dark hair. I got good-guy vibes off of him which didn't jive with what Stephanie's friends had said about their relationship. Rich mobster kids didn't usually have to buy off nice boys.

So when we plopped down I smiled and said "I'm Marly Jackson, PI, and this is my arch enemy and personal pain in the ass Michael Finnegan, he owns Gold 'N' Rod, so play your cards right and you might have a job on camera. You introduced Stephanie Montgomery to BDSM?"

The waitress who just reached our table turned around and ran for the kitchen.

Cortez blushed scarlet. "We dated. She said she wanted to try the lifestyle, but she didn't like what it entailed. We broke up three months ago."

"So I heard. You still race bikes?"

"Excuse me, can we get two coffees and a refill over here?" Finn asked the younger waitress across the aisle.

"No." Cortez replied to me, shaking his head.

"How'd you meet Stephanie?"

Cortez blushed again. "I used to work at a club, the, uh, Sugar Shack."

I nodded, recognizing the name. It was a strip club with male dancers up by the Wisconsin border, closed now. "Other than this BDSM kick, anything ever happen in the relationship of note?"

"Yeah," he said and fidgeted his empty coffee cup. "I had a bike, I raced it a few times. She thought I was a badass but I'm not. She flaunted me in front of her daddy, her friends. Her old man offered me fifty thousand to never see her again. When I told her she laughed in my face and offered double. I took off, haven't seen her since. What's going on?"




MJ 3: A Bad Case of Blackmail



"She's missing. Was there anyone in her life you can think of who'd want money? Anybody she owed? Anything like that?"

"She did drugs. People in those circles do."

"What kind of drugs?" Finn asked.

"Special K, some E. She was a party girl though, and would do what everyone else was doing. In groups, coke mostly. I hated it. Never saw money change hands but she had to owe somebody."

I had to pause as two cups and a bowl of cream were set down, and the waitress poured the coffee all around. I watched until she was out of hearing range. "Who was the supplier?"

"They came from all over but when Stephanie was in a bad way, she called her sister."

My knuckles tightened white on the coffee mug. "What?" Finn asked me.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised he didn't know. "Stephanie's older sister is Elizabeth Montgomery Hyde, AKA Kitty Hyde."

"Shit," Finnegan said darkly. "I can't believe she didn't go to prison."

She had been the true lover of Julie Wojakowski's boyfriend, and helped to try to set me up to take the fall for murder. I owed her at least a beating, and the feeling was probably mutual. 

"No she probated out and obviously found a way to support herself after her divorce," I said and Cortez nodded.

"Look, those people are scary as hell. I'd stay as far away from them as possible. I learned that the hard way." His soft voice was filled with bitterness I hated to see in the young.

I nodded at Cortez. "Just keep your nose clean and your name won't come up with any other Montgomery. I promise." I pulled out my card and gave it to him.

He pulled out his wallet, slapped a five down for the coffee, slipped in the card, and took off with a nod. I was still trapped by Finn.

"All right, you've kidnapped me, insinuated your way into my case, and uncovered a mutual ghost our past. What now? Want to see my parents' graves and dance on them?"

He raised an imperious eyebrow. "Your parents are dead?"

I cursed myself inwardly for revealing that. "Finn, I don't want to fuck you. Force me and that's rape. And every cop we used to work with won't doubt my word." I leaned in closer to whisper the next words. "And I'll cut your dick off and feed it to you." 

He leaned close enough I felt a jolt up my spine. "I love it when you talk dirty."

"I'm just getting started." I sucked in my breath when the gun jammed into my ribs and he nuzzled my cheek like a dear lover, which he sometimes was, but not at that moment.

"Still, darling, I am the one with the gun, and you're going to do as I say."

If only that didn't make me wetter than anything else in my life could.

***

I woke up to the smell of coffee, cigarettes, bacon, and an incredible singing voice.

Finn had a nice baritone, and in a different world could easily have made a career sauntering on stages the world over breaking hearts. But he'd grown up Southside Irish, and in that world you were either a criminal or a cop.

He'd been a cop, but like me never a honest one. Once I left the force he'd had little reason to stay and so he started up a good fencing operation, best in town. He'd been transitioning into porn though, and said he made more money that way.

I felt thick in the head, hung over, but I hadn't had anything but coffee the night before. I jerked up, realizing the bastard had drugged me. The sheet fell down and I saw I was fully clothed, so probably not raped. Not that he'd ever do that, but I'd love a reason to kill him.

I found him in the kitchen, flipping eggs and singing an old Irish song, one I'd heard my grandfather sing. The smells, the old lover, the song made my heart wince. Home was a foreign concept, I didn't even have one, living out of my office instead. 

But a peaceful home was not in my future, or Finn's.

"You drugged me, asshole."

"And good morning to you, Marly. You can use my toothbrush, it's magnificent. Times itself to two minutes so you know when to stop. And then I have coffee and breakfast."

I grabbed my purse from the counter and started to look for my shoes. "Thank you for this pointless kidnapping, but I'm worthless as ransom and immune to Stockholm Syndrome. Fuck off, Finn."

For a big guy with ropey muscles he had the speed, stealth, and grace of a panther. The door was blocked before I took two steps, and he wielded the spatula like a sword. "You're not going anywhere until we talk."

"Talk?" I folded my arms and he nodded. "Nothing else?"

"I'll give you your keys back and let you go on your merry way, just hear me out."

I regarded him for a moment, trying desperately not to stare at his bare chest, and growled at his victory smile.

***

I'd showered, used his fancy toothbrush, and stolen one of his shirts. Sitting in his kitchen at the bar counter, I faced him with a mouthful of coffee and eggs.

"I'm not angry at you, Marly."

I choked, coughed, and he gave a sigh and walked around to thump me on the back. "Thanks," I wheezed out.

"I'm not angry anymore, I should say. I realized that in your position, I might have done the same. But not if I loved you, and now I realize you just don't feel that way about me. So I started to think th-"

"Finn, shut up." I could handle anger and threats, but the wounded puppy look was too much. "Petrov is Russian Mafia. He threatened to kill you and me if I didn't give him the real violin. I knew the fake would keep you safe for a time, that the Italian was harmless. I meant it when I said I'd give you my cut back."

"Petrov is mob?" Guilt crept into his beautiful blue eyes. "Marly, I-"

"Finn it's in the past. So, now, do we have any new business?"

He set his fork down and sighed. "Plenty, but none you'll ever let us deal with."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Look, Kitty Hyde has every reason to hate you, and her father is the scariest bastard in Chicago. Neither one of us is going to get within ten feet of her."

I nodded and pushed my half eaten breakfast away. "Well I know who to talk to, but it's my case. I don't need or want you on it."

He folded his arms, flexing muscles that made my stomach flip over. "Kitty Hyde nee Montgomery is old business for us both. I've spoken with Julie so I know what your next move is going to be, and as Ryan used to work for me, it's doubly my business too." 

"Fuck," I muttered knowing it was useless to argue. He was the most stubborn man ever born.

He grinned then and slapped the towel on the counter. "Just wait for me to get dressed and we'll go."

I looked for my keys, but he knew me well and showered with the damn things. I'd never be rid of him, Finn made sure of that, and I wondered, for the ten thousandth time, why I fought it.

Oh yeah, principle. I had so few, after all.

***

Ryan Madigan didn't let me in but when Finn buzzed him the door opened before he finished saying his name. I ignored the cocky wolf grin and walked up to the third floor.

Madigan was in the open doorway, shirtless, blond, perfectly sculpted. He wore only low jeans and was freshly showered, his longish hair still wet. "Finn, Marly, what can I do for you?"

He let us in to the sparse apartment. There was barely any furniture, just a window, old loveseat, comfy recliner, and a wall of electronics that cost more than my car. Ryan took the recliner, Finn the loveseat, and I chose to stand, leaning against the doorway leading into the kitchen.

"We need a favor," I said, and folded my arms.

He leaned back and lit a cigarette. "Oh yeah?" The cocky jaunt of his eyebrow made me grit my teeth. "What kind of favor?"

"We need to talk to Kitty Hyde and find out if her sister owed anybody any money, anything like that," Finn said.

"I haven't seen her since her boy-toy killed Mary Beth. And then I lost my job."

"Look-" Finn began, but I cut him off.

"What will it take? How much?" I eyed Finn's frown but discounted it. In the underworld, as he should well know, money was all that truly talked.

Ryan swung the recliner back towards me. "Money is a problem, but a one-time payment is not going to help me. No; what I want is a job. A steady job." He swung back to Finn with steepled fingers. 

Finn's look was dark enough to wither any other man, but Ryan stood his ground. "You know you're too recognizable for camera work."

"Gold 'N' Rod is huge now, that excuse no longer flies and you know it. I want an on-camera job, any name you want."

"He hires you and you'll talk to Kitty Hyde?"

The chair swung slower this time, his grin controlled. "Yes, but one more thing."

"Oh?" Finn and I chorused.

"You're pretty Marly, but no knockout. Finn talks about you like you're Aphrodite herself. I've always wanted to know what it was all about." Ryan ignored the growl behind him. "I want to fuck you."

He was young, good looking, and trained to fuck well. "All right."

"No."

I looked over at Finn. "You don't own me, Finn, and I say yes."

"Then no job."

"Well, then we have a problem," Ryan said, facing Finn. "A job and Marly, or no deal."

Finn stood, walking towards me. "Let's go, we don't need him."

I jerked away from his hand. "Yes we do. All my other leads are dead and Montgomery will eat me alive if I don't deliver. I'm doing my part. Finn, you wanted in on this, so buck up and do your part."

He gritted his teeth and I watched his jaw tick for a long, silent moment. Then, without turning from me, he said "Fine. But one caveat."

"Oh?"

"You don't get to fuck her pussy."

"Finn, you don't own me."

"And it will be a threesome."

I gasped, enraged. "I said you don't fucking own me."

He stepped closer, radiating violence. "Oh, I will, Marly, I will."

***

How did I get into these situations? I had fantasies, like every woman, but I knew what to pursue and what not. Oh, on the surface I was getting a good deal; two drop dead gorgeous men to fuck me, neither with any inkling of interest in other men, only me, but it was worse. Much worse.

One man thought he owned me, was my master, and could easily be pushed over the edge. The other was an ex-whore who wanted to be a porn star. One wanted revenge on his boss and was using me to that end; the other wanted revenge on me for not loving him.

I set the ground rules: no kissing, no undressing each other, and no one would ever speak of this again.

Finn broke the first in record time, kissing me as soon as I was as naked, marking me as his like an animal. I bit his lip and ignored his growl, sitting on Ryan's cushy bed.

"I've never done this before, how does it work?"

Ryan was already hard, impressively so, power appealing to him. "Relax." He knelt on the bed behind me and began to massage my shoulders. I closed my eyes and let his strong fingers release some of the bunched tension.

The bed dipped and swayed and I felt Finn's mouth on a breast. I gasped and tightened again only to feel a burning hot erection press into the small of my back.

"Relax," Ryan cooed, and his hands slipped up into my hair.

Finn slid two thick fingers into me, discovering just how excited I was. I still jumped, and landed on his thumb working towards my anus. He was the only lover who'd ever taken the time to learn that trick, and it worked every time.

I moaned and wound my fingers into his hair, then felt Ryan slip a hand around to cup a breast, pinch and pull the nipple. Finn worked his fingers in and out hard, faster than I would have liked, but it worked and I built quickly, breaking and crying out wordlessly as the orgasm shook my entire body.

"My turn," Ryan said softly and began to shuffle around to my side.

"Top that," Finn said arrogantly and moved to take Ryan's place behind me.

"This is not a contest," I said them both sternly.

"Want to bet?" Finn whispered in my ear, making me shiver.

He pulled and Ryan pushed me to my back, Finn's hands on my breasts, Ryan's on my inner thigh. He used his teeth as gently as Finn's fingers were violent, Ryan teasing me well.

By the time he worked to my pussy I was ready to beg him, and the whimper he drew with the press of his plush lips earned me a sharp pinch from Finn. "Shove it," I grunted out as Ryan's tongue circled my aching clit.

"Don't mind if I do," Finn said and shoved his middle finger into my mouth. I tasted myself on it as he drove it deep, and when he pulled it back spit followed the wet digit.

He raised my hips into Ryan's face but it wasn't to aid the other man; he slid the finger into my ass, stretching me. The invasion was ice cold shivers and burning heat, creating an ache in me that Ryan's skillful tongue quickly answered.

The next orgasm was stronger, it made me dig my nails into Finn's thigh and Ryan's back. I bucked against them as I came, moaning, and felt Finn's erection swell against my back.

"It's time, but Ryan, remember what I said. No pussy."

From Ryan's grin at that I knew this wasn't a punishment to him. Hell, knowing men as I did, as Finn did, why would he think this wasn't a treat?

The shifting of bodies was awkward, more so because I hadn't done anything to them in return, very unusual. I thought we'd do what Finn called a pig-spit, Finn behind me, me on my hands and knees, Ryan in my mouth, but Finn laid down and started to pull me back across him.

When I realized what he intended, what made Ryan's eyes blaze interestingly, a small dose of panic rose. "Finn, no, I've barely had anal, I can't do this."

"Relax," he whispered in my ear as he trapped me against him. "I'll get her ready," he said coolly to Ryan.

One arm banded around me, pinning my arms to my back, the other speared down to my pussy, stroking me, making me squirm but otherwise unable to move. Before my eyes fluttered closed, I saw Ryan stroking himself, and the feeling of being watched was powerfully arousing.

I felt Finn's hips flex and then his cock dove into my pussy so fast I cried out, my eyes open. He fucked me in two quick, delicious pumps, and then was out. I whimpered as he shifted me higher until his cock was at my anus.

I'd done this before, I knew to relax, to push out as he pushed in, but it was still slow and achy. Once he was all the way in he sat there while I panted, and he let out a low moan. 

The bed dipped once more and Ryan sat next to us. He gave me a wink and used one hand to feather my clit while the other kept stroking himself. I built quickly again, and when I was close Finn started to move.

The orgasm slammed into me as if from outside my body, and I screamed out my release in gibberish and agonizing pleasure. The second I came down Finn pulled out, hastily pushed me aside, and hopped off the bed. I knew he had to wash his dick off, but it was still rude, and the hurt must have shown on my face because Ryan kissed me.

Someone had taught him this art well and I lost myself to it, until Finn jerked me away, making me bite my own tongue.

"Marly!"

"Damn it!"

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me, drinking the blood. The sheer lunacy and intimacy of that act was equally erotic and revolting.

"Lie down," he ordered Ryan while we were still kissing. I tried to push at him but the man benched far more than I ever could. I'd have more luck pushing a marble statue.

He backed me until Ryan's toes hit my heels and then pushed me back down, hard. Ryan's hands caught me gently, saving us both form injury, and I glared at Finn's cocky grin.

Ryan laid me against him, letting me adjust, and whispered, "Comfy?" into my ear. I mumbled yes, and then his fingers were inside me, pulling my juices out to cover his cock.

It was Finn's turn to watch but he didn't stroke himself. Instead his face was awash with anger, interest, pain, ecstasy, and jealousy. A part of me ached for his pain, but a more earthy part of my soul was captured by that beauty, it was like he had been painted by Titian's own hand. 

Then Ryan was inside me, his entry much smoother, and I gasped when filled me. Finn growled and knelt between our legs, and slammed hard into me, hitting my cervix. My legs wanted to wrap around his waist as they had a hundred times before, but with Ryan I couldn't. 

I felt full, more full than I ever had been before, and more powerless yet free than I ever thought I could.

Then they began to move, one in, one out, and I was lost. My mind became an animal's then, greedy and desperate for pleasure. I peaked in orgasm over and over, each time gushing fluids that drenched them both, meeting with masculine grunts of approval.

I clutched at shoulders, jaws, ribs, and arms desperately, uncaring whose they were, I screamed my pleasure into Finn's mouth, I squirmed trapped between the hot press of two men, our sweat mingling, until I was beyond conscious thought. Time held no meaning.

Ryan found his release first, and when it came Finn gave me a vicious smile, and drove me to orgasm one last time before letting his body go.

The magic of it ended as Finn collapsed and Ryan's body went weak. I heard a yawn in my ear, and I was itchy from all the sweat.

"You got a shower, Ryan?"

"Towels are in the closet."

Finn was pliant enough I pushed him off, and it pissed me off that Ryan did little aid my dismount, so I wasn't gentle with him, earning a swat on my butt. My languor vanished, and when I saw the bathroom I nearly screamed.

Red mildew, everywhere. It looked like he'd been gutting fish in there, or perhaps cows. I hunted and found pristine cleaning supplies, probably left by a maid in more flush times, and set to cleaning. 

An hour later I was even messier, sweatier, and grateful for the bath. Until Finn stepped in with me.

"Get the hell out."

"I'll help you wash your back."

"I'll drown you," I retorted and he smiled, taking the soap from me. It was Axe body wash, and smelled like pure juvenile machismo.

He took it and the washcloth from me and began to lather it. "Ryan is contacting Kitty for a date tonight. He will get a list of debts and drug connections. If any of Stephanie's associates are blackmailing her father, we'll know by tomorrow."

I closed my eyes as he washed my back. I hated the tenderness he showed me after the violent sex. Oh, I wouldn't trade the violent sex for anything, but the tenderness was slowly wearing me down. I so did not want to be ground into dust.

"That's good, it'll give me the night free. I have to find a place to live, one you can't locate."

"Still living out of your office?" he mused and brought his hands, washcloth free, to my breasts.

"Mmm," I replied, hoping this would lead to more dirty sex.

"Move in with me, Marly."

I blinked, counted backwards from ten, but I still screamed the word "What!?"

"Move in with me. Marly," He whirled me around and I had no choice but to grab him to steady myself. "I love you."

I slapped him. He took it, eyes flashing, and let me go. "Fine then."

I scrambled out, wet, still half sudded, and whipped a towel off the rack to wrap around myself. "Leave me alone Finn. Give Ryan his job, go home, and from now on, when you think of me, whack off."

He braced his arms on the rod, gloriously naked and wet. It took everything I had not to look at him all. "Marly, I'll win, eventually. My being married when we met? That's a stupid thing to hold between us now. She's my ex-wife, and did you ever stop to think there's a reason I never mentioned it?"

I found my gun on the back of the toilet and clutched it tight. "That's just it, Finn. I have."

***

Ryan went into the hotel to meet Kitty at nine, and I waited in my car outside all night, but he didn't come out. My stomach rumbled and my brain ticked. Nothing but dead ends, Stephanie's sister was our best hope, but Kitty was capable of murder once before, she certainly was again.

I checked my reflection in the mirror after eight in the morning. I looked like hell. I pulled out concealer and mascara, used it well, and tied my hair into a bun.




MJ 3: A Bad Case of Blackmail



I took off my jacket and unbuttoned the top button of my blouse. I'd pass well enough for flirting, or at least I hoped.

Turns out I didn't have to. The police were there, they'd come in the back, and the front desk was swarmed.

"Excuse me," I stopped a woman gossiping with her friend. "What happened here?"

"That old football player, Ryan something, fell off a balcony, drunk. He's dead."

No leads, my last hope was dead. Montgomery was going to kill me.

When my phone rang, I jumped. It was Montgomery.

"Jackson," I answered.

"Another demand has come through. I thought you were working night and day."

Through the open back door I saw a black body bag on a gurney wheel past. "Sir, you have no idea."

***

Montgomery showed me the demands, printed from a computer, untraceable, never mind those stupid CSI shows. His business associates had checked out, all that was left was Stephanie's friends.

"Where can I find your other daughter, Kitty?"

Montgomery was facing away from me in his greeting room, I didn't know what else to call the marble room I'd been showed into. "She has gone missing as well. The police were here this morning. A young man died in a hotel she was staying at, she was the only guest they could not reach.

"After the nasty business with her lover I have disowned her. She is not a part of my life any longer, Marly."

"I can find her as well," I offered, hoping it would stall for me.

"Don't bother. Get me my daughter's blackmailer soon, or you will disappear, Marly. Now Kitty was at a club last night the police tell me, Danny's. In your line of work I'm sure you're familiar."

Nodding, I was shocked. Cortez had lied.

***

"Where the fuck is Kitty Montgomery?"

Cortez was shaking. It had taken a lot to get into the employee lounge for Danny's, longer to get him alone, but it had paid off.

I had him up against the wall, my gun jammed into his throat. "Wh-what?"

I slammed him again and jammed it harder. "I said, where the fuck is Kitty Montgomery? You fucking her too?"

"N-no! Kitty came here looking for me, but I hid. I called your partner and told him."

I let him go. "Finn, fuck." He'd probably killed her. Disowned or not Montgomery wasn't going to be happy.

"L-look, she was asking about visitors. I overheard her mention something about letters."

"Fuck, if she knows she smells money. The woman is after it like a shark on blood. Do you know what happened to Stephanie?"

Montgomery hadn't let it get out, but if Kitty knew about the blackmail, she probably also knew her sister was dead. And finding the blackmailer would be a great way to screw me over and win daddy back in a neat go.

Cortez nodded at my question. "I helped her fake her death."

***

Stephanie Montgomery was scared. I met her in a dingy motel on Lincoln in Lincolnwood, the kind that charged by the hour. Cortez was there, guarding the door, and Finn had weaseled his way into the meeting, sitting in the chair next to me.

Stephanie was tall, slim, her hair strawberry blond, her eyes huge and blue, and filled with tears.

"My father...I knew what he was into, long ago. I knew the lifestyle. I never did drugs, Cortez made that up for me."

"Why?" I asked as Finn simultaneously asked, "Are you in love?"

She shook her head at him. "He's my best friend now. And it was to get someone to watch Kitty. Once this blackmailer is found, my father will report my death for insurance. I had a second policy in Cortez's name. He gets ten percent, and I get to be free of all this."

"So Kitty is a threat?" I asked.

"She's not the blackmailer, it's not her style. No, she's the reason I'm leaving."

"Why?"

She grabbed more tissues and at her sniffle Cortez sat and patted her hand. "I was in love with Harry Walters, really in love. I found out she was sleeping with him after he asked me to marry him. They were planning to kill my father, and when I inherited his money, kill me."

"Now that sounds like Kitty's style," Finn commented. "I had a man tailing her, but no one saw her leave the hotel. I'll get a man on Walters right away."

He stood and pulled out his cell, walking to the vanity for privacy as he called a henchman.

I watched him go and then looked back at Stephanie. "And then you 'died' and their plans went to hell. Ten to one Walters is the blackmailer."

"How could they know? My father is very secretive, no one knows."

"Did Walters have access to your house?"

She nodded. "We may as well have caught him red handed. I'll need to access his bank accounts for proof, and then we'll have him."

Stephanie grabbed my arm. "Will you keep my secret? Please, I can't go back to that life. My father controlled every moment of it until Harry came along, and look how that turned out?"

Finn came back in the room and her eyes followed him the way mine did. He oozed sex, but it made me grit me teeth. The bastard noticed and grinned as he sat.

"Stephanie, you should go into hiding, far away this time. I have a plan."

"Oh?" Finn asked.

"And you're part of it."

Something about his slow smile raised my hackles, and I wondered if what he'd said in the bathroom was really true. Did he really love me enough to want to live with me?

And just how did I really feel about Finnegan?

***

Harry Walters was easy. Well he was, after Finn got through with me. I asked him for help because I was clueless about girl things. Finn had studied the opposite sex like a predator should, and so he bought my a tight pencil skirt in leather, a loose green blouse that matched my eyes, and borrowed fuck-me-pumps from his work closet.

He didn't cross dress, but he kept a whole wardrobe for his porn company. Ironic, I thought, considering I'd seen most of the films and never noticed the actors in clothing.

He had his crew tease my hair and do my makeup, and when they were done I looked different. I looked really, really girly.

"Marly," Finn said, dripping with sensuality.

"I doubt Harry Walters will be interested in me if I smell like sex."

He raised a brow, locked his office door, and drew the blinds.

"Finn, come on."

He backed me to the couch, and when my knees hit it I flopped down. He loomed over me, tall, lean, and dark, his handsome face bore a smile equally dark and seductive.

"I need you to remember who you belong to." And then he dropped to his knees in front of me.

"Finn, I don't- ah!"

He jerked the skirt up and spread my legs. I wore stockings from wardrobe, and no panties. Considering mine said Tuesday's Child is something-or-other, he'd deemed them unfit and I wouldn't wear used underwear.

"What are you doing?"

"Jesus Marly, you think you'd know by now." He grinned and then dipped his head to lick my pussy.

Fuck, I thought, and gave in. I gripped his leather sofa tightly as he licked in dizzying moves. Up and down, swirling around my slit, teasing back the hood before delving inside of me. For long minutes he tortured me in such a way that I gripped his shoulders, jammed my pussy against him, and demanded he make me cum.

He groaned, the vibrations thrilling me, and began to suck on my clit as the tip of his tongue teased it.

The orgasm exploded from me and I hoarsely shouted his Christian name when I came. Finn pulled back with a grin, his lips, jaw, and stubble smeared with my juices, gleaming obscenely in the overhead light.

"Yes," I said, still dizzy from the orgasm.

He raised one eyebrow, still smiling.

"I'll move in with you, but don't push me any further.

"Marly? Have you been listening?"

I shook my head and looked at Harry Walters with a smile, burying the heated memory.

"I'm sorry, Harry, what did you say?"

He raised his wineglass and smiled. "You've been a million miles away."

Harry Walters was charming, in his mid forties, good looking, a silver fox I believed his type was called. I got major good-guy vibes off of him and I trusted my gut.

But if Harry Walters wasn't my blackmailer, then Kitty Hyde was, and he was the only connection I had to her.

"Harry, I'm going to level with you. I'm looking for Kitty, and I know she was your lover."

He looked truly shocked, his fork falling back to his plate of pasta. "What?"

"Wasn't she? Weren't you having an affair on Stephanie Montgomery with her own sister?"

He paled. "Oh, God, tell me her father doesn't think that, he'll kill me."

I leaned in close over the white cloth covered table. "Then what happened?"

He sat back. "Stephanie had the affair on me. Her sister discovered this and came to me with an absurd plot. When I threatened to tell her father, Kitty agreed to leave us alone. But I had Stephanie followed, and she was having an affair all right. I broke it off, I don't know where she is, and I certainly have no idea where her slut of a sister is."

I believed him, I really did. I should walk out the door, tell Finn to stop searching Walter's townhouse, and call Cortez. Blackmail truly wasn't Kitty's style, but perhaps her baby sister had more imagination than she did.

"Was she having an affair with a man named Cortez?"

"I never learned the man's name, but I have a picture." He pulled his wallet from hs jacket pocket and opened it. "I carry it with me because if I ever see this bastard again, I'll kill him."

He passed me the photo and I stared hard, memorizing every detail. "Tell me, if Stephanie wanted to hide out, where would she go?"

"I know exactly where."

***

The blackmail trail was cold. I had an idea of just what was going on, but there was no concrete proof. So I faked it.

Montgomery wanted a name, and I'd give him one. He'd kill Kitty Hyde, his own daughter, but the blackmail would stop. I knew that for a fact.

The only thing that tugged on my conscience was the workings of the Montgomery family. I had grown up in a rotten one, but the Montgomerys put the Jacksons to shame. At least our violence and passions were out in the open for the world to see, and it had destroyed us a hell of a lot quicker.

Memories threatened me but I pushed them away. Sure my life had made me hard and remote, but it honed my instincts and kept me alive. No matter what hate still lived in my heart, I would always be thankful for the hard lessons.

Lessons that let me know Harry Walters was an innocent man being set up to die. That was one thing I would not comply with. He had made the simple mistake of falling in love with the wrong woman, he should not have to pay.

Forging documents and digital files wasn't easy, and I couldn't concentrate. I needed a release of tension.

I needed Finn, and I hated that. So I called Cortez.

***

"How much?"

He blushed. Standing in my office he knew why he was there, but it bothered him, and that spoke volumes. "That's your job, at Danny's. So how much?"

"Marly, it wouldn't be right charging you. You're helping my best friend, and I think...I think you're pretty."

The compliment was sincere, and took me aback. Finn said he loved me, but never really complimented my looks. And every girl or woman needed to hear it. "So where's the 'but' I can hear coming?"

"Sexually I'm...different. Vanilla just doesn't do it for me anymore."

I peeled off the jacket to my sensible suit and kicked off my Doc Martens. "I like it rough, and I'll like whatever you want."

His eyes blazed. "Really?"

I stepped close and tossed my hair like a silly flirting female, but with the younger man it felt natural. "Really."

I kissed him then, and his lips were soft. He slipped his hands up to my arms and kissed me back, awfully vanilla for someone with a kinky streak.

"Wait, no," he panted out, breaking away and shoving me back.

"What's wrong?"

"Finnegan."

I stepped closer. "He doesn't own me."

"I see the way he looks at you. We do this, and I'm a dead man."

"What if I came to you at Danny's?"

He shook his head. "That might be different, but like this? I don't want to die, not for this."

It was patently absurd that my feelings bee hurt but I understood. A stupid, silly part of me infatuated with Finn was actually relieved.

"Fine. Go then."

"Thanks, Marly."

"Cortez?" I said when he'd opened the door and he paused.

"Yeah?"

"Don't freak if I show up to your work."

His smile didn't touch his eyes, and when the door close I threw my crystal ashtray against the wall. It shattered, pieces flying everywhere.

Fuck. I was lost to that bastard Finn.

***

"You're sure this is accurate?" Montgomery asked me sitting in the client chair.

"One hundred percent. I don;t see the need to embellish it, make it clearer. When it's family you won't want the police involved."

He nodded. "Thank you. Can I be assured of your discretion in this matter?"

I nodded emphatically.

"Good. I will give you another fifty thousand then. You have saved me an enormous amount of time, and trouble. Marly, I owe you a large favor. Any time you want it, name it."

I really hated my conscience, I really did. "I can name it now, sir."

"Oh?" He steepled his fingers as he sat back, his cigar smoking up the office with the beautiful smell.

"Cortez and Walters should live. Both men were entirely innocent, drawn into this against their wills. Let them live in peace."

His eyes narrowed. "They know things they can hold against me."

"If either one ever blackmails you I will kill him myself at your command, free of charge."

He stood then and ground the stogie out. "I have your word?"

"On my honor."

He looked me up and down not like a man would a woman, but the way a King would a knight, and I was flattered. He nodded, and once again left my office with goon in tow.

I called Finn and got his voice mail, leaving him the address to meet me at where we could talk

Finn was too dangerous for me, and I wouldn't live with him. Not now, not ever. 

I was almost done, one more thing to do before I met Finn and could consider the case closed.

I drove to Danny's.

***

Cortez had been sent home from work, and for a pretty penny, his boss gave me his address. I found him deep into a fifth of gin, crying.

"Why, Marly? Why did you tell Montgomery where Stephanie was? They took her. They took her! He'll kill her!" His fuzzy eyes focused on me as I sat in a ratty recliner opposite the Davenport he perched on. "You have to get her back! She'll pay you, any price, name it. I'll fuck you, as much as you want, I'll even-"

I held my hand up. "Stop right there. Give me the gin."

"Why?"

I grabbed it from him and took a long, burning pull. "Stephanie risked your life. She lied to you. See Kitty is no mastermind, she's an evil sidekick. Blackmail? She couldn't mastermind stealing candy from a baby.

"But she could carry out a plot as directed. Nice and neat. Stephanie gets your help to fake her death. Harry Walters could prove this, and so Stephanie framed him for blackmail. Kitty got some of the cash for her help, Harry was supposed to take the fall, and Stephanie would get a nice fat settlement.

"I did you a favor. Now she's really dead, Montgomery will make it look like an accident, and you get the policy for real."

He threw the bottle and it hit the TV, shattering, cracking the screen, and sending clear alcohol everywhere.

"She couldn't have! And if she did, she had good reason. Her father was a tyrant, he ran her life!"

I shook my head. "It wasn't her original idea, but she took it and ran with it. She was far from innocent, and the apple doesn't fall from the tree. A hard lesson, but one to remember."

I stood then and pulled out my wallet, dropping seven hundred on the table in fifties. "That will buy you a nice new TV. Now lay low until this blows over, and you'll be fine."

He kept crying until he took the money and saw the photo I'd slipped into the stack. Then he picked up a framed photo of Stephanie, and I new it was time to leave.

The photo hit the door behind me with a thud.

***

"Marly, you packed yet? I've cleared plenty of closet space for you, but by my count you have what? Two suits and eight shirts?"

"Three suits, actually. Take a walk with me."

He froze. "What's going on?"

I looked around the shore. We'd stay to the sidewalk, down the way were a ton of cops, people Finn and I might have worked with, and we didn't need them to listen in. "Walk with me, talk with me."

I turned then and got fifteen steps before he moved. He jogged to catch up to me as we walked towards the melee of cops. Two news vans had pulled up, setting up in time for the ten o'clock news, and a crowd was gathering.

"What's going on?" He peered down the way as we got closer and closer.

"Finn, I'm not moving in with you."

"What?" He stopped and put a hand on my arm but I jerked it off and walked until I reached the edge of the crowd.

He caught up, his face enraged, a muscle in the jaw ticking. "Why?"

"Shh," I held up my finger as a newscaster began reporting. "You might want to listen to this."

"Good Evening, I'm here at the Jackson Park Beach tonight where the bodies of two women have been found. The identities of Elizabeth 'Kitty' Hyde and her sister Stephanie Montgomery have been found, reportedly drowned.

"Montgomery's boat was found adrift and reports say alcohol and drugs were on the boat, leading to speculations that impairment may have caused this tragic drowning. At..."

I steered a shocked and pliant Finn from the crowd, deeper into the park, closer to Michigan Avenue.

"What the fuck?"

"It worked. You wanted Kitty Hyde dead, and she's dead. You should be happy."

He paled. "I- what?"

"Bad news though, Harry Walters is very much alive. I'm surprised you let me have dinner with him, when you had to know what he'd tell me." 

"Marly, it was a lie." He stopped and held me in place. "Whatever he said, it was a lie. I gave you the proof I found at his place. He and Kitty Hyde were blackmailing Stephanie's father."

I shook his hold off. "You're not the only one who knows how to fake evidence. And you should have been smarter, Finn."

I pulled out the photo Walters had given me. There, in full color, Finn was passionately kissing Stephanie Montgomery.

"You were fucking her while you said you loved me. When you pursued me, fumed at me for being with other men, you were fucking her. You used her and me to get Kitty Hyde killed. Why go to the trouble, Finn? Why not just have one of your goons kill her?"

His eyes went cold. "And have her father kill me? That wasn't the reason. Yes I slept with Stephanie, yes I arranged all of this, but I did it for you."

I barked with laughter drawing stares and turned to walk away. He grabbed me and whirled me around, his grip as unrelenting as iron. "You did this for me? How is fucking another woman supposed too help?"

"I needed to work with you again Marly. Time had passed since we brought down Kitty and her boy toy, and you wouldn't see me, talk to me. I knew the case would fall on your lap and you'd need my help. It was the only way to see you."

"What about Petrov? I know you didnt fake that!"

He dropped my arms and smoothed his hair. "Luck, but the wheels ere in motion. I couldn't stop it, then."

"Bullshit." I turned and walked back towards the crowd and he jogged after me, calling my name.

I pushed through until I saw the sheets draped over the bodies, and he drew up to my side.

"See what your greed and lust has wrought? Look at your handiwork, Finn. If you cared about Stephanie, this has gotta hurt. Fuck, I hope it does."

"Will you keep your voice down!" He whispered sibilantly. "I didn't love her, I love you. I've always loved you."

I looked at the bodies and shook my head. "If that's what comes from getting involved with you, I've had it. If I ever see you again, I will shoot you, or call Montgomery and tell him every detail of your involvement. Good bye, Finn."




MJ 3: A Bad Case of Blackmail



Damn me, when I walked away from the conniving bastard, there were tears in my eyes.

\What do you know? Turns out, I loved Finn.



A Bad Case of Loneliness



Warning: Adult content is obviously included in this story. Please do not read unless you are over 18.

* * * * *

I used to ride the train for hours alone. The 7:40 pm to Vanguard avenue. The 8:20 to Hollyhock St. The entire night I would sit on the lonely train and look out over the city, the lights of homes, and offices showing like stars through the black window. Sometimes I would ride longer than other times. When the conductor would come on to announce the arriving stop, I wouldn't much pay attention. After all, it didn't really matter where I got off did it? Was I running from something? Was I running to something? Am I just trying to keep my mind occupied? I would ask myself all those questions. I think the latter question was the correct one. I wasn't trying to run from something, and I certainly was riding the train to anywhere in particular. I just liked to sit, and watch things go by. I liked being in my own little world while I didn't think about things, and things didn't think about me. 

In my old, regular life I used to be an editor for the Living column in the local newspaper- the largest newspaper in the city actually- and I was married for 5 years I think. Work was what I liked to do. Going through college as an English major, I knew I had to make a choice of career fast, and I certainly didn't want to teach or write. So editing was it. I also would write reviews for a magazine that was produced mainly for movie buffs. The reviewing was mostly a side job, just to keep my mind from being restless. It was also fun to do, and that made it easier to accomplish. My wife had been a complete sweetheart. She was the type of woman you loved to be around, no matter what the reason was. She was an unusual woman, but in all the greatest ways. 

Carol was her name wasn't it? Yes. She was beautiful. Long brown hair. Lovely, bright green eyes. Long, smooth legs. She was to die for. And then I almost did, but it didn't turn out the way it should have. Our home was broken in to. Quite an unusual thing to happen for the neighborhood we lived in. The man was startled when Carol woke up to discover him in our room. He had our back turned to us on our bed, rummaging his hands through our dresser. When Carol left out a soft gasp, the man whipped around. Her hand grasped my shoulder and shook my body softly. The man had let out a small yelp, and my hand was already half way to turning the nightstand light on. When I did I noticed the man had a gun already pointed at Carol. His blue eyes showed terror, and inexperience. I raised my hands to protest, and Carol reached for the phone on my side of the bed. When the bullet went through my hand my eyes closed, blood sprayed over my face, and I smelled a small hint of gunpowder. The .22 caliber bullet struck and shattered bone in my hand on its way to another bone, this bone did not shatter, but chipped, and sent the bullet through my palm in a downward trajectory. 

After it left my palm, spraying blood over my face, it went right through the back of Carol's upper neck, who had reached over my lap to grab the phone. The bullet entered into her spinal column, and stopped slowly. The next 3 years are a blur. I remember clutching Carol to me, screaming for the ambulance to hurry. I remember flashes of her funeral. Now, all I remember is the train I rode home from her funeral, and how I have ridden the same train around the entire city for the last year and a half. 

Through all the long times of riding this train, Carol's death has become numb. While it’s better for her to be forgotten -except for the good things I remember- new feelings have formed after her disappearance from my thoughts. Most of them are not happy feelings, and most of them are not even sane feelings. But the feeling that always strikes the hardest, and the longest, is the loneliness. The longing for someone else hurts the most. The yearning for the ability to merely touch someone could make my heart stop beating all by itself. 

And then the weirdest, but greatest, thing happened. One evening I was riding the train as I would usually on any evening of the week, and I happened to turn my head from the window. To a normal person, this would not be a weird thing. But to me it was. And what was even weirder, was the reason why I did turn my head. 

Everyone has the strange ability of mild-clairvoyance. But not the type of clairvoyance where you can read people's thoughts. No, not telepathy. The type of clairvoyance when you can feel someone watching you. This type of clairvoyance is what got me to turn my head. 

I was on the 7:40PM train to Vanguard avenue. I had been riding the train for close to forty-five minutes already, and for the last twenty minutes or so I could feel a pair of eyes on me from the corner of my eye. From what I could tell, the person was staring directly at me. Usually when I think someone is watching me, I turn my head for a brief moment, and see they really are not even looking in my direction. This time, when I turned my head, I saw a gorgeous woman looking right in my direction. She had her eyes on mine. Normally when you are caught staring at someone, you turn your head again to avoid the person's accusing look. She did not turn my head, and I did not offer an accusing look.

Her eyes were also what made me keep my head turned from the window. They were bright blue, a thousand yards deep. I swear oceans, and lands of another world existed in those eyes. And most people would assume that when someone was staring at you, it was for reasons of concern, or disgust, or curiosity. Her eyes showed none of these. Surprisingly, her eyes reflected the reaction she had to the thoughts I had in my head. They looked almost sorry. She had a look of pity on me. Not pity coming from her thinking she was a better person than I, but pity that showed she knew exactly why I was riding on this train. She knew I came here every night. She knew my heart ached. And I think her heart shared a little bit of its own aching. 

Not allowing myself to stare back into her tempting eyes, I offered a small smile and looked down at the ground, instead of the window. I noticed her move from her seat, and she was soon sitting next to me on the dingy train. The horn of the train sounded as it passed another train going in the opposite direction. She had never taken her eyes off me, even when I looked away. He hand came toward me, and her fingertips touched my chin softly, lifting my head to look at her. When I did, her eyes changed. They once showed a look of complete sorrow, and pity. Then they changed to a look of complete understanding, as if she was trying to tell me it was all okay. 

Then she smiled. Some smiles can regarded as forced, but her smile came from absolute helplessness to do otherwise. Since smiles are more often than not contagious, I smiled in return to her. Our faces began to change from solemn, remorseful reflections, to rejoicing happiness that we had found each other. I took her hands, and she squeezed mine in return. 

When her lips met mine I felt like I was eleven again. When I got my first kiss from a girl named Rebekah, I thought I would was going to yell and sing at the same time. There was a lift-off feeling in my stomach, and I thought I might pass-out from happiness. I got most of the same feelings when I kissed the stranger on the train. It was a short, brief, no-tongue kiss, but it was still nice. The way our lips fit perfectly together was like magic. 

I started to smile again, and we continued holding hands. I told her my name was Ian, and I was surprised she kissed me.

"I'm surprised I kissed you myself, and my name is Kyanna," she replied to me.

I smiled and nodded, "I am happier to meet you, than anyone I have ever met before Kyanna."

She smiled and laughed at this. We went on talking, and riding on the train together. She told me she had been watching me for some time. I asked her why. And she said at first it was because she was attracted to me, but then she realized I wasn't really going where on the train. She wanted to come and talk to me, but she said something in my eyes made her just sit and watch. Then she realized that we were going through the same type of pain.

Kyanna had also lost a spouse. Though not because of a bullet, the pain she felt was much like my own. Her husband had cheated on her, and divorced her soon after. She had been alone since, and was struggling through life. Her friends weren't much comfort, and it was mostly because she didn't have any very close friends. 

We talked for a couple of hours on that train. Holding hands, and telling stories, it was like being anywhere in the world for me. Even though we were on a public transit train, her beauty, and the attraction of her eyes dissipated all the loud rocking and whistling sounds. 

I found myself liking to watch her eyes as much as I liked watching the window of the train. 

--

The train stopped at Harbor blvd., and she stood up slowly. 

"This is my stop." She smiled, but it was a smile of near-remorse. I could tell she didn't want to leave, and I thought she might even want me to go with her. As if she was reading my mind, she pulled on my hand, and I stood from the seat. I wanted to protest, but I realized what good it would do. She smiled and escorted me off the train. 

The night was cool, and there was a slight fog causing all the streetlights to look like balls of translucent light. We talked some more while we walked toward her apartment. She mostly talked, while I listened, and stole glances toward her lovely eyes. She talked about how lonely she was, and expressed how long it had been since she had had sex, without actually telling me figures.

"I know you might be a little weirded-out by this, but I would really like you to come to my apartment and spend time with me." She turned her head from watching her footsteps to look at me. I just smiled, and gave a slight nod.

"I would like that Kyanna," I replied. I had sincerely intended on just spending time with her. Maybe have a drink or two, but mostly talk about things. Obviously things turned out differently.

--

We sat on her couch in her small apartment. It was nice. Not big, and not too cramped. It had a very homely, personal feeling to it. She didn't have many nick-nacks or novelties, but she was well decorated. We drank coffee and talked about our passed lives more, when I got that lift-off feeling in my stomach again. I think it was because my body knew what I was going to do before my mind did. My mind hadn't quite caught up until I had my lips pressed against hers again. Her lips were soft and lovely, and her mouth was warm. My tongue explored hers, rubbing it as I sucked it gently. She whimpered lightly into my kiss and pulled my hand to her waist. 

The events after this point turned into what seemed like a slow, rolling tornado. She laid back with me, her hands sliding up my t-shirt to feel over my chest. My hands were sliding up her sweater, feeling the bare skin of her back. Her legs were on either side of my hips, and her pelvis was grinding against mine. I could feel my hard cock pressing back against her, and she moaned slightly when she felt it grow. I broke our kiss to move my lips to her neck, kissing and licking her skin gently. She sighed at the feeling and slipped one of her hands to my hair, tugging on it gently, pressing my mouth to her neck. 

"I- haven't felt this way in a...long time," she breathed, and began grinding against my hard cock harder. 

"I want you to fuck me, if you promise not be gone in the morning."

I gasped out the promise as I slipped her sweater off over her head. Her breasts were shockingly pert, I thought for sure I would see a bra over her chest. Her hands reached down to my head, and made me sit up, pressing my face to her cleavage. I kissed and licked as best I could over her breasts, my hands rubbing her back and shoulders. She whimpered again, her hands moving from my head, down to my pants. 

When she had them completely undone she slipped her fingers inside and grabbed my cock, tenderly stroking it idly while I sucked her beautiful breasts. She pushed me down again, and began yanking my shoes off. I helped her, and kicked them off to the floor, and she kicked out of hers as well. Then she began groping my hips as her mouth quickly descended to my cock. As soon as I felt her warm, wet mouth on the head of my dick I saw white stars all over her apartment. I let out a whimpering, shuddering gasp and arched my head into the arm of her couch. She swirled her tongue over the head of my cock, and then began stroking her lips over my shaft, up and down. I began to moan quietly, and concentrate on how to not cum. 

She pulled her mouth away reluctantly, slurping her lips on the head of my cock as she did, and looked at me. I looked back at her, and I'm sure my eyes were as wide as silver dollars. She grinned slightly, and helped me get her clothes off. When she was completely naked, she took my wrist, and pulled me up from the couch. 

"Come on; let's get to the bedroom where there's more room." She smiled, and pulled my wrist as she trotted down the hall, breasts bouncing, toward her bedroom.

Once there, she jumped on her bed and let out a small growl. I walked toward her, ridding myself of the rest of my clothes. I slide up onto her bed, and crawled toward her, kissing her lips as my hands slid over her smooth thighs. She smiled, and growled playfully into my kiss. Her hands rubbed over my bare ass, pulling me toward her. Kyanna then tilted her head back, breaking our kiss.

"God, baby. Please fuck me. I'm so hot...please," she pleaded. How was I going to argue?

I groaned softly when my cock pushed slowly into her wet pussy. She gasped again, spreading her legs wider, and wrapping them around me. The lift-off feeling went off in my stomach again, and this time it kept lifting-off until I began to stroke into her. She moaned every time my cock dug into her pussy, moaning how good I felt, how hard my cock was, how much she needs me. I planted my hands on either side her, and began to grind my hips into her, digging my cock inside her. We kept our pace for a few minutes, fucking each other rather slowly, embellishing the feeling of it all. Her mouth was biting and gasping against my shoulder, her hand pulling at my hair gently. I began kissing and sucking on her neck and shoulder, fucking her slightly harder.

"Mmm, don't stop Ian. God you feel good." I hadn't intended on stopping anytime soon. Her pussy felt like heaven, even though I've never been...I'm sure it feels similar. Warm, inviting, comfortable. I rolled us over, and she planted herself on top of me, wiggling her hips slowly, and guiding her cock back inside her. She then began to ride me gently, slowly. Her head tilted back, and her hair hung loosely down her back. She was moaning when she sunk completely down onto me, and I couldn't help but admire how incredibly beautiful she was. 

Her hands gripped my chest, and she kept working herself on top of me. She was growing a fever, and couldn't keep a slow pace any longer. She began to bounce on my cock, grunting softly with each stroke. I started to pant softly, moaning her name. Her fingertips touched my lips and she smiled down at me, fucking my cock with her wonderful body.

"Oh God! I’m cumming! Oh Ian, cum with me!" 

Our souls cried out at the same time, and I gripped her hips. Her fingers scratched lightly over my chest as we came together. She began to scream, yelling out how she never felt so good, and she never thought it could be this way. I was moaning loudly, our bodies tensing until I thought all of my muscles would rip. And then we crashed together, her yelling calming down into an exaughsted grunt. My moaning calming to a deep, tired pant. She lay on my chest, and clutched her to me tightly, smelling her hair, and kissing her head.

No, I don't think I would be gone in the morning. I think I would rather make her breakfast. But for now, I would like to sleep, just like this. Her spell had broken my loneliness.



A Bad Case of Nerves



I am a thirty-eight year old woman, and I have never had sex. Yes. That's right. I am still a virgin. All through my childhood my sainted mother drilled into me the knowledge that all men were pigs. They would use a girl for their own pleasure and then dump her. Men were put on earth to ruin the lives of women. Hadn't men ruined her life? Left her pregnant, alone and in poverty. 

But she had triumphed. She had put me in day care and taken a factory job, until she had amassed enough capital to open a lovely little gift shop on Pine Street. During my high school years, I had helped mother in the gift shop and learned the business. Mother and I were always together, and it was such a wonderful excuse to stay away from all those rude disgusting boys who kept trying to ask me out.

Mother was not only disapproving of men. She was disapproving of the loose sort of women who would consort with them. Even those who would marry them. "All strumpets," mother would trumpet. "All trash. Strumpet trash." Mother was nothing if not judgmental.

It's been around ten years now since mother died. I inherited the gift shop on Pine Street and I run it. I have an assistant in the store, Mella, a twenty-five year old divorcee. Her loathsome husband had cheated on her and finally abandoned her. Mella is very nice. She opens the store for me in the morning, and she takes charge when I am not there. Every week I go to the cemetery and bring flowers to dear mother's grave, and thank her for her wise teachings. I have never suffered the misery visited on other women by the male sex. I have kept myself totally aloof.

Sometimes at night, when I am lying in bed, I have strange thoughts, which I try to put out of my head. Some of those thoughts make me want to reach down under my nightgown, and touch my private parts. But no. No. I mustn't do that. Dirty. Filthy. Disgusting. I turn on the television and try to fill my mind with other things. The carnage in distant parts of the world. Yes. Carnage usually helps to divert my mind.

My life is very quiet and very peaceful and very uneventful. I work at the store all day, I go home and warm-up a frozen dinner, and I get into bed and read or watch situation comedies. I don't know why it is that I'm getting nervous as a cat. When I drink my coffee, my hands shake and tremble, and I'm very irascible. Last week Mella asked me when the new shipment of birthday cards was coming into the store, and I snapped at her. She knows that it takes three weeks. Stupid woman.

This morning a terrible thing happened. The alarm went off, and I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and the water wouldn't go down the drain. The sink was just filling and filling. Sometimes, I let the water run and go into the kitchen to turn on the coffee. Fortunately, I didn't do that today. If I had been in the kitchen, I wouldn't have seen the water filling the bathroom sink. I would have had a terrible flood. A mess. This was so aggravating. Why did these things have to happen to me?

I looked in the phone book and called a plumber. Dylan O'Reilly. He was in my neighborhood. He told me his day was booked and he couldn't come, but I begged him and begged him and he relented. I called Mella and told her I would be late at the store. That I was waiting for the plumber. I told her to hold the fort. Then I got dressed and sat in the living room, crocheting doilies, while I waited for Dylan O'Reilly.

Around eleven o'clock, the doorbell rang and I went to answer it. As I opened the door, I saw a tall, good-looking, powerfully-built dark haired man, who hadn't shaved. He was wearing a green uniform, and his muscles bulged out in every direction. He was all male. He was repulsive.

He stepped into the front hall, and I looked down in horror.

"Look what you did," I screamed. "You tracked mud onto my carpet."

"Sorry, lady."

"Sorry? There's a mat in front of the door. Why didn't you wipe your filthy shoes on the mat?"

"Sorry," he repeated.

"Pig," I muttered to myself. I led him into the bathroom. He was walking very close to me. I could smell his strong masculine aroma. The slightest scent of sweat, combined with all those hormones. My legs felt a little wobbly. I got a little faint. I think I may have been hyperventilating a little. He was making me nervous. I didn't know why. He wouldn't try to rape me, would he? My palms started to perspire.

In the bathroom, he opened up his toolbox and took a wrench. He lay down on the tile floor, his enormous legs stretching toward me. As he adjusted himself, I could see a slight bulge in his pants. The crotch area. I didn't even want to think what it might be.

His sleeves were rolled up, and as he twisted the wrench, I could see his arm muscles rippling. He had an eagle tattoo, and as he rippled, the eagle stirred. I felt very hot. I had stopped hyperventilating. I had stopped breathing.

He twisted the wrench, and suddenly a gush of water spilled out of the pipe, onto my clean tile floor. Rusty water.

"You got water all over my floor," I screamed at him. He looked at me as if I were crazy. "Men are such slobs," I said, and then I started crying. 

He fixed the pipe. He cleaned up the water. He stood up to go. I was still sobbing hysterically. I wrote out a check, and I led him to the front door.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "I don't know what's wrong with me.

"You've got a bad case of nerves, lady. You need to get laid," he told me. And then he was gone. I went into the kitchen, and made myself a cup of coffee. My hands were still shaking. I was almost in shock. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with me?

I started to think about Dylan O'Reilly. His black tousled hair, his dangerous looking dark whiskers, his long legs, his thighs, his bulge, his eagle. My hands got so bad that my coffee spilled onto the kitchen table. I put down the cup, and buried my face in my hands. That thing that he had said to me. Was he right? Did I need to....? 

I thought, and I mused and I pondered. The more I thought about it, the more I thought he might be right. I had denied myself physical contact for thirty-eight years, and maybe I needed the touch of another human being. A caress. A kiss??? Did I want to lay my hands on male flesh? Did I want to stroke Dylan's eagle? 

Could it be that mother had been wrong? That all my life, I had been given misinformation, which had made me a cold, cut-off, stunted human being. A frustrated woman. Perhaps I needed to find out for myself what men were really like? Yes. I would have to find out for myself. It was time. I washed my coffee cup. I went into the living room and put my half-finished lace doily back in the knitting bag, and I went to the store. 

All day long, I worked in the store, and made polite conversation with Mella. But I was thinking. I was planning. I was going to take my life into my own hands.

After work, I drove to Reynolds Department Store. I bought a whole new wardrobe. Lacy underwear, short skirts, tight fitted off-the-shoulder tops.

I went down to the cosmetics department and bought all those things I had never used. Foundation, rouge, lipstick, eye-shadow, powder, and the most expensive new woman's fragrance. Raindrops by Dorothy Powers, the rich celebrity girl who had made a dirty movie with her boyfriend and released it on computers. I had always turned the station when she was on a talk show. Now I was sorry. I might have learned something from her. She was worldly. She was sophisticated. And it seemed, she wasn't repulsed by men. "Oh, mother, what did you do to me?" I wondered.

After dinner, I put on one of my very sexy new outfits. The blouse had a built-in push-up brassiere. My breasts were literally spilling out. I realized I had terrific cleavage, which I'd disguised all these years. I let my hair out of the severe bun that I wore it in, and brushed it forcefully until it shone with a copper hue, and spilled exuberantly down my back. I was not used to such high heels, and had a little difficulty walking at first, but I held onto the walls and I was fine.

I had never been schooled in the art of applying make up. I knew that in Hollywood, they had experts to do that. Real artists. But I gave it a brave try. I evened out my facial texture with the foundation, and then I applied the lipstick and rouge. The lipstick shade was called 'Color Me Crimson.' I was not fooling around. No pale pinky flesh tones for me. Maybe I overdid the indigo eye shadow and the mascara. I don't know. Before I had done my eyes, I had used the eyelash curler I had purchased, and now my black, black lashes curled upward saucily.

I gave one last look in the full-length mirror on the inside of my bathroom door. I could hardly recognize myself. I was a babe. Where had I been hiding all this time?

I drove into town and after parking in the lot, I entered the Westwind Lounge. A dozen pair of eyes turned toward me, and began assessing me. Men's eyes. I went up to the bar, and climbed upon a stool. There were single men all around me. Maybe I wasn't twenty years old anymore, but I figured I'd probably do all right.

Next to me on my right was a businessman type. He wore a light blue shirt, a dark blue tie, and a navy blue blazer. I was afraid to look down to see what color his pants were. He was joking with the bartender, and some of the other men at the bar. The bartender asked me what I wanted, and I told him a gin and tonic. I had heard of gin-and-tonics.

The man on my right, who had thick curly hair of mixed black and gray, was tall and imposing. Even though I had dowsed myself with 'Raindrops,' I could smell his bracing spicy lotion. If I had been that kind of girl, I would have thought that he was very masculine and very attractive. 

The bartender brought me my drink, and I opened my purse to pay him. 

"I'll get that," the masculine attractive man on my right said.

"Oh, no. I really couldn't...."

"It's on me. Phil, put the lady's drink on my tab," he instructed the bartender.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He smiled and nodded at me. I could see that his eyes were on my ample, spilling bust. Even when he turned and faced forward again, I could see his left eye dart to the outside corner of his eye socket to dwell on my breasts. I took a deep breath and expanded my chest. 

"My name's Edgar," he said.

"Louise," I said, nodding.

He stretched out his hand and I took it. He pressed my hand in his large beefy palm, looking into my eyes. I lowered my eyes. I was not used to this sort of thing. I'm sure my face was red.

We chatted a little as I sipped my drink. He bought me another. His eyes never left my bosom. "Thank you, Reynolds Department Store," I said to myself. It was hard for me to look him in the eye. I kept my heavily shadowed lids lowered. My glance landed on his lap, and I saw an enormous protrusion. I'm sure I was blushing again.

I told Edgar about the gift shop, and he told me that he was an insurance broker. He asked me about my home insurance, and I had to admit I didn't have any.

"You're very foolish," he chastised me.

"I know. I know," I pined. Mother had been very impractical and neglectful. And so was I. A man would have seen to insurance.

"Would you like me to take a look at your house, and recommend a policy?"

"Oh, yes," I said gratefully. What a nice man.

When I finished my fourth drink, I got into my car and drove unsteadily home. Edgar was following me in my own car. He was going to check my house, and help me with insurance. Such a nice man.

I parked my car in the driveway. He pulled in behind me. I was a little dizzy, so I just sat there. Suddenly Edgar was at my door. He opened it and reached out a hand. He was helping me out of the car. What a nice man.

We walked to the front steps, side by side, and he grabbed my arm and steadied me, when my high heel turned slightly and I stumbled against him. Again I smelled his spicy cologne. 

I gave him a tour of the house, and when we got to my bedroom, suddenly he turned and stood directly in front of me. He put his arms around me and drew me to him. His mouth lowered and met mine. I felt his beefy tongue in my mouth, and my legs got a little wobbly. I had never experienced anything like this before. I loved his cologne.

I threw my arms around his neck and responded like a love-starved strumpet. Way down, I could feel a hard thing pressing into me. Way down, below the waist. I moaned and sucked on his large tongue. I think all those gin-and-tonics were having an effect on me, and causing me to exhibit wanton behavior.

He planted one of his large beefy hands over my left breast. "MMMMMM," I moaned. I was feeling a strange warmth and tingling in my breast, and then down below, and then over my whole body.

We moved together over to the bed, and fell heavily upon it. He was on top of me, devouring me, dominating me. I loved it. I felt his large paws reaching behind me and lowering the zipper on my form-fitting blouse. The zipper zzzzzzz'd all the way down my back. He drew it off me. My breasts were naked.

He lowered his mouth to my chest, and began to lick my taut nipple. "AAARRRGG," I screamed. I thrashed around under him. He licked and he licked. The left. The right. The left. The right. Between. As he was licking, he was unzipping my skirt. I lifted my behind off the bed, so he could pull it down below my buttocks. His finger started stroking me on my panties. I could feel I was getting wetter and wetter. It felt so wonderful. I just kept kissing him. His mouth was like honey.

Then I felt him lowering my panties. I raised my middle again, to help him. He took his mouth off mine for an instant, and stuck his finger inside his mouth. He lasciviously wet his finger and brought it back to my mid-area. He began stroking me with his wet finger. 

"AAARRRGGGHHH," I screamed again. I was thrashing all around. I had never felt such exquisite sensations. His finger slipped inside my body, and I actually raised up to get it deeper. "Edgar. Edgar," I screamed. "Yes. Yes."

He moved away from me, and my heart sank. Was this it? Was it all over? No. He was just undressing. First the jacket. Then the tie. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his arms. He lifted his undershirt over his head. As he was taking off his shoes and socks, I dropped my high heels on the floor. Also my stockings. Edgar opened his belt. He stepped out of his pants, and stood there in unflattering boxy plaid shorts. There was a large lump. 

He pulled down the shorts and stood there in all his naked glory. His skin was pinkish, and he had a little bit of a belly. He had very little body hair. And down there was his thing. That big manthing. I had never really seen one before. I had seen statues in the museum, and averted my eyes. But here was a live thing. And it was so big, and it was so hard, and it was so thick. How could that ever go inside my little body? Beneath it were his two big testicles, which swung wildly as he moved back onto the bed with his left knee.

He climbed on top of me again, and we resumed kissing, but now I felt his hard manthing against my soft flesh. This was all making me dizzy. So dizzy. 

He kissed my breasts again. He tongued my nipples. Then he moved down and his tongue entered my body, where no man had ever been before. "AAARRRGGGHHH," I screamed, louder than ever. "My god. My god." What was happening to me? "Oh, my god."

I spread my legs so that his tongue could do its sweet work. I reached down and began twisting my fingers in his hair, pressing him between my thighs. That soft tongue was transporting me to strange distant kingdoms. Then he stopped. He fell back on the bed and pulled me over him and down.

"Suck my cock," he said.

"Suck your cock?" I asked. "No. No. I can't do that."

"Sure you can, Louise. Get down there and suck my cock." He forced my head down over his large organ, and when I opened my mouth to protest, he forced his large organ into my mouth. I choked and sputtered. I tried to pull off him.

"Suck it," he ordered me.

I heard a dangerous tone in his voice. I started to suck him. My mouth was getting used to his size, his shape, his taste. It wasn't so bad. It was really very pleasant. Actually I just loved it. My mouth moved up and down his shaft, and I was making obscene sucking noises. Then he pulled my head off his penis, and forced my head between his legs.

"Suck my balls, Louise. Suck my big balls. That's it. That's it. See. You can do it. You can do it. You like my big balls, Louise? You like my big cock?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I like your big balls. I like your big cock. I love your big cock."

He shifted his bottom to give me access to his large fleshy cheeks. "Eat my ass, Louise."

"Edgar!" I protested.

"Eat it," he ordered and forced my head down. My nose was buried in his flesh. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at his pink eyehole. I held my breath, so I wouldn't smell or taste anything, but the smooth feeling of it on my tongue was not unpleasant.

"Oh, You're so good, Louise. What a great whore you are. Cocksucker! Asslicker! You know what I'm gonna do now, Louise?"

"What?" I asked innocently.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." And with that he threw me flat on the bed and once again jumped on top of me. His hand was feeding his large merciless cock into my tight virgin pussy. I screamed a little.

"What's the matter, baby? Never been fucked before?"

"No," I answered.

"Oh, come on," he said, of course, not believing me, until the head of his dick hit my tight unyielding maidenhead."

"My god," he uttered. "You haven't been fucked before. What have you been doing all your life?" 

I had no answer.

"Okay. Here goes," he said, and pressed into me. I felt the blunt head of his member tear through my hymen. I grunted and cried in pain. He just lay on me then, without moving. Waiting for me to get used to his penis inside me. Waiting for the pain of my lost membrane to dissipate. After a few minutes it did, and he started grinding himself into my body.

"What a nice tight pussy. What a nice tight cunt," he said appreciatively. 

I had heard those nasty words before. 'Cunt.' 'Pussy." How I'd always hated them. But now they were filling me with a strange excitement.

"Fuck me, Edgar. Fuck my hot pussy. My cunt loves your big hard cock. Fuck my cunt. Fuck my cunt." I felt incredibly liberated. I had finally found the real me. The tramp. The harlot. The cock-hungry slut. I threw my legs around his body in abandon. I pressed my heels into his asscheeks. I grabbed his asscheeks with my hands. I pressed him into me, as I slammed my middle up to him. "Oh, my god. Oh, my god," I intoned continuously.

He twisted my tits (his word) as he fucked my dripping pussy. I wanted it to last the rest of the night. It didn't. He started making funny sounds, and his rhythm changed. He started slamming into me hard and fast, and then he froze, and I could feel his cock swelling inside my pussy, and then I felt shot after shot of hot liquid blasting down my cuntchannel. Blasting into my body. Blasting down my uterus. Blasting into my womb. Uh, Oh.

He lay on top of me as our heart rates slowed. I lazily ran my fingers through his thick hair. My lips nibbled at his. His lips nibbled at mine. I loved the weight of his heavy body on me. I wrapped my arms around him and cradled him. I felt his large cock softening within my dripping pussy.

"Oh, Edgar," I said. "Oh, Edgar."

"Did you like that, Louise?

"Yes. Yes, Edgar, I did.

"Did you like getting fucked Louise?"

"Yes. Yes. I loved it. Fuck me again."

"Now?"

"Yes, now." 

"Not now," he said. "Maybe later."

"Oh, Edgar. You're so mean," I complained.

Edgar and I drifted off to sleep. Towards morning, he awoke and fucked me again. This time there was no membrane. There was no pain. Only pleasure. Unbelievable bottomless pleasure.




A Bad Case of Nerves



In the morning, I suggested to Edgar that we get married, but he just laughed at me. I made him coffee, and then he got dressed and left the house. I looked out the window as he went back to his car in my driveway. I had given him my phone number, but he had not given me his. I hoped that he would call me. I wanted desperately to see him again. I wanted desperately to get fucked again.

I drove to the gift shop and I think I was singing when I opened the door. Mella looked at me suspiciously.

"How come you're so happy?" she asked me.

"It's a beautiful day," I answered.

"It's raining," she countered.

"I like the rain," I insisted. I was very cheery all day long. Actually I couldn't wait to get home. I just knew Edgar would call me and we would fuck again. That night I lay naked in bed, stroking my wet pussy, waiting for the phone to ring. It didn't. The next night the phone didn't ring. A week went by. I stopped singing. He hadn't even called me about the home insurance.

"What's wrong, Louise?" Mella asked me.

"Nothing," I answered, twisting my fingers together. "I just have a bad case of nerves. It'll pass."

She shook her head and went back to putting the new birthday cards in the rack.

"Well, if that's how he wants it, fuck him," I thought as I got into my sexy clothes and put on my makeup. I would just make another trip to the Westwind Lounge. I would find someone new. Edgar was not the only pebble on the beach. There were a lot more fish in the sea. 

When I got to the Westwind Lounge, I was half hoping that Edgar would be at the bar. I wanted the chance to snub him. I wanted the chance to have him watch as I spurned him and got cozy with another man. 

The bartender nodded to me, as I perched on a stool. I was a familiar face. I looked around. Edgar was not at the bar. Damn. But there were several other decent looking possibilities.

One of them moved from the end of the bar, and sat down next to me.

"What can I get you to drink?" he asked me.

"I think I'd like a gin and tonic," I said. I simply did not know the name of any other drink.

"Phil," he called to the bartender. "A gin and tonic for the lady. And I'll have another scotch rocks. He tipped his empty glass toward the bartender.

Scotch rocks. I would have to remember that.

He was a tall, good-looking, powerfully-built dark haired man who hadn't shaved. He was wearing a green uniform and his muscles bulged out in every direction. He was all male. He was breathtaking. 

I recognized him immediately. He was my plumber. Again I noticed the eagle tattoo on his arm. But now the eagle was turning me on. I could tell that he didn't recognize me. Well, how could he? I was a different person.

"The name's Dylan," he said and reached out his hand. I had known his name was Dylan. And what he didn't know was that I knew his last name. O'Reilly. Dylan O'Reilly. 

"Louise," I answered, and shook his hand politely.

He told me all about the vagaries of the plumbing business, how you never knew what was going to happen when you got to someone's house. Some of the people were really nice, but some of them were real 'ballbusters.' I sympathized with him. I could really imagine his going to the house of a nervous, cranky, frustrated old-maid, who gave him nothing but misery.

I was telling him about the gift shop, and the new birthday cards, when all of a sudden the door opened, and someone came into the Lounge. No. It was not Edgar. It was a woman. A glamorous, beautiful young woman with long red hair, and a tight sexy outfit. She wore long, shiny black stockings. A short plaid skirt. A mini-top which exposed her bare midriff. In her navel were a cluster of fake diamonds. She had been pierced. I was so astounded by her general appearance that I had not even glanced at her face. I did so now. My jaw dropped.

"Mella," I cried in amazement.

"Louise? Is that you? Oh, my god. It is you. What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?"

"Why are you dressed like that?" I countered.

"I guess you never saw my piercings." She smiled. 

"No. I never saw them. You dress differently in the store."

"So do you," she observed. I nodded. 

She sat down on the stool on the other side of me. I had Dylan on my right, and Mella on my left.

"What can I buy you to drink?" Dylan asked her, leaning in front of me. He was looking at her breasts, which were even bigger than mine.

"I'll have a banana Daiquiri," she said. Dylan ordered it from Phil, the bartender.

"Dylan. This is my friend Mella. Mella, who works in the shop with me. Mella. This is Dylan. Dylan is a plumber."

They shook hands directly along the bar, directly in front of me. Dylan seemed to be holding on to her hand, but Phil wanted to put down the Daiquiri, and needed space. He let go of her hand and they sat up. We laughed and chatted and gazed at each other in the mirror behind the bar. Mella was really a beautiful girl. I had never even noticed that. And Dylan. My god. Dylan was a hunk. He was sexier than Edgar. This would be no night of second best. I would pick him over Edgar any day.

But a horrible thought crossed my mind. Dylan and Mella were being very flirty. Suppose he didn't want me? Suppose he wanted her? She was younger than I. I didn't want that to happen. I tried everything I could think of. I was bright, vivacious. I kept injecting clever little bon mots into the conversation. And I have to admit, I let my leg rub against Dylan's every now and then. Sort of unconsciously. And when I dropped my purse, and had to reach down to get it, I steadied myself on his firm, muscular left thigh. Way high up, and my middle finger was almost touching his enlargement. Yes, it was enlarged. And I hoped against hope that I was the cause of that enlargement.

We all had more drinks. We laughed. We chatted. I joked. I dropped my purse again. Dylan began describing to us the fabulous apartment he had furnished for himself, above his plumbing supply store. He called it his bachelor pad. 

"You gotta see it," he told us. "When we leave here, you gotta come over and see it."

"Both of us?" I asked.

"Of course," he said.

I was disappointed. There would be no action tonight.

Dylan left Phil a big tip on the bar, and we gathered our belongings. Before I got up, I dropped my purse one more time. Clumsy me. All three of us got in our separate automobiles, and Mella and I followed Dylan to the plumbing store and his fabulous bachelor 'pad'.

We walked up an exterior flight of stairs on the side of his store, up to the second floor. Dylan led the way. He took out his keys, and opened the front door. Mella and I entered. He flipped the light switch. 

One side of the living room was a living room, and the other side was a gymnasium with all sorts of weights and exercise machines. Now I knew how he got all those muscles. He gave us a walking tour. He showed us the modern kitchen with the granite counters, which he said he never used. He showed us the modern bathroom, with the enormous Jacuzzi bathtub, and the marble vanity. He showed us the bedroom. The bedroom. My god. Mirrors everywhere. Every wall was a mirror. The ceiling was a mirror. I looked up and saw myself upside down. I saw Nella and Dylan upside down. I saw the enormous king size bed with all kinds of red pillows and cushions upside down. Suddenly Dylan's headtop approached my own, and before I could react, I felt his demanding lips on mine. He put one arm around my waist, and pressed me to him. I could feel his hard enlargement against my vulnerability. The other arm was reaching out to Mella.

His mouth moved off mine, and onto Mella's. We were pressed together in a close-knit group of three. Mella moaned in rapture. Then he took his mouth off Mella's and suddenly it was on my own again. He was massaging my breasts. Then Mella's. Then mine. Then....

He was still kissing us both. I felt Mella's hand brush against mine on Dylan's fly.

"Kiss her," he told me.

"Kiss Mella?" I had never considered anything like this.

"Yes. Go ahead. You too, Mella. Kiss Louise. I want to see a nice sexy ladykiss."

I nervously moved my mouth to Mella's, and she to mine. We kissed. I licked her lips. I felt her tongue enter my mouth. I felt a tingling in my vulnerability. Now Dylan was placing a hand on my tingle. And on Mella's. Then the three of us were kissing all at once. Three tongues together. Then he opened our blouses and brassieres, and began feeding on my breasts. Then on Mella's. Then on mine.......

"Get undressed," he said.

I stood up and started disrobing like an automaton. Mella took off her blouse and skirt. She had disattached the left stocking from the pantygirdle clasps and was now rolling the sheer black nylon down her long leg. She was still in her pink panties while I was already in the nude. Dylan led me to the bed and arranged me along its length. Then he started to get undressed.

I could never have imagined such an endowment. How did it get so big and muscular? I knew it didn't lift weights. How would I get that inside me? I put that fear out of my mind. I knew that I was resourceful and somehow I would manage.

Dylan was first on top of me. Then on top of Mella. More and more hot kisses. His tongue was becoming as familiar to me as my own. Then he scootched down on the bed and planted his mouth over Mella's pussy. He began licking it. Flicking his tongue back and forth over her engorged pink nublet. Back and forth. Back and forth. Mella was thrashing all around on the mattress and making low guttural sounds. I was fingering my own pussy in envy.

But then, Dylan moved across the bed and began pleasuring me. Now I knew what Mella was thrashing about. I began rolling around the bed, screaming, holding his head into me. Yes. I was behaving like a strumpet.

Then Dylan moved up over my body, and that fearsome blunt knob was pressing into my slot. I could feel my mucous membranes separating around it. Separating and then drawing back together to clutch at it. I reached down and fondled his hard asscheeks as they were hunching his dick into me. Along the sides, I could feel his taut assflesh dimpling. His behind was so smooth. So smooth. I raised my legs around him, and I could feel his heavy balls battering my exposed asshole. It was very sexy. I could see his hard, firm asscheeks flexing and unflexing on each instroke and each outstroke. In the mirrors I could see the long taut dimples of his straining buttocks. I could see everything. All in the glittering mirror over my head. I was looking up at that mirror, and I could see fantastic fornication on the bed below it. If I turned my head to the side, the walls were mirrored, and I had a side view. I saw a man and a woman fucking. I was that woman. I loved it. I could also see another tattoo. A large one covering his left buttock. It was an American flag. Red, white, and blue. And it was waving, as he gored in and out of me. I wanted to salute, but instead I grabbed the banner and crushed it in my greedy hand. When I removed my hand, the flag was not crushed. I had not desecrated it. I wanted to move down and lick it, as any good patriot would do. But I was under him getting plowed. I was pinned down and couldn't move anything but my hips. 

He was kissing me, when suddenly Mella's face was there and he began kissing her.

"Lick my asshole," he told her.

She hesitated.

"Lick my asshole," he told her again. "Then I'll fuck you."

She thought it over and decided this was a good deal. She knelt between our legs as he pumped into me, and I looked down. She had moved my hand off his patriotic buttcheek, and now was separating his two mounds with her own hands. I saw the little pink tongue dart out between her lips as she moved her face into his darkness.

"Oh. Oh. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah." Dylan screamed and began really slamming into me and then pressing his tight pucker back onto Mella's tongue.

I wished I could have had his thick white cream in my cunt, but he had promised Mella that he would fuck her, so I wasn't surprised when he withdrew his pleasure rod from my slick sheath, before it had blasted into me. Now Mella was lying next to me on the bed, and she shifted over and stuck his still-wet dick into her. They began hunching together. I was a little jealous. I turned on my side, and placed my mouth between theirs and we were all kissing together again.

This continued for another five minutes. I thought he was going to blast into Mella, but he didn't. Suddenly he withdrew his big meat from her slippery sheath, and moved up on her body, straddling her chest. His butt was lightly pressing against her large breasts, as he bent his stiff dick down toward her mouth, and pressed it between her lips. He pulled me over to him, and began devouring my tits. Licking them, sucking them. He suddenly had a brilliant idea.

"Eat her pussy," he told me. He may have sensed a slight distaste on my part, because he repeated, "Eat her pussy." And it was like an order. 

I moved down between Mella's luscious thighs and began running my tongue up and down her mouth-like slit. Then I went for it. I clasped my lips around her button and began sliding my tongue over it and sucking. I liked it. Mella liked it. She was making low guttural sounds again. So was Dylan, as Mella sucked his length into her throat in extreme passion.

We did all different things. In all different positions. Mella and Me. Mella and Dylan. Dylan and me. We tried every permutation possible. There was nothing I didn't like. Finally Dylan pushed me down on the bed on my stomach and pulled my ass up into the air. He fucked me like the bitch I was. He fucked me doggy style. I could feel his big prick feeding into me from behind. I slammed my ass back into his taught muscular belly. Slap. Slap. Slap. I looked in the mirror. His eagle soared. His flag fluttered. And I wanted his cum. How I wanted his cum.

Oh, no. He was taking it out again. But wait. Oh my god. He was moving it up against my bottomhole. He wanted to take me anally. How could that happen? It was too big. It was too long. It was too thick. He was pressing. Pressing too hard. Now my rear walls were separating and regrouping around his hard rod. Sucking on it. Pulling on it. He started making crazy noises, and his flanks began pumping arhythmically. He pushed me flat on the bed and fell heavily on top of me. I could feel him hunching frenetically. I could feel his cock growing inside me. Yes. This was what I had wanted so badly. He was coming in me. I could feel blast after blast of his burning liquid inside my rectum. At least I didn't have to worry about getting knocked up tonight. I would really have to get a prescription for birth control pills.

The three of us lay in the bed exhausted for more than an hour. Fondling each other. Nuzzling each other. Around 3 a.m. Mella, and I each went home. We had to get a little sleep and dress for work the next day. Dylan told us he wasn't going to ask for our addresses or phone numbers. (If I'd given him my address, he would have realized that I was the nasty frustrated harridan whom he'd visited recently. He had told me I needed to get laid. Well, he had been right. I had needed it. He had changed my life. I owed him a debt.) 

Dylan explained that he never saw anyone twice. He liked new experiences all the time. New faces. New tits. New cunts. New asses. All shining in his multi-mirrored bedroom. I was disappointed, but I was used to it. I hadn't seen Edgar again either. I guess only a woman really wants a relationship. A man just wants to get his rocks off. Too bad.

The next morning when I got to the store, Mella was already there. She had opened as usual. I had never looked at Mella as a person before. Only as an employee. And now I realized that she was an attractive and vibrant young woman. The first hour, after I got there, was a little awkward. I think we were both a little embarrassed about what had occurred the night before. But as the day wore on, we got a little more comfortable with each other. In a new way. 

We started to become friends. We would go out for dinner together. She would come over to my house and we would watch television together in the evening. It got so that when she went home at night, I would start feeling lonely. I would start missing her.

I asked her to move in with me. I needed the company. She agreed. She sublet her own house, and moved into my spare bedroom. 

The first night she was there, we decided to celebrate. We got all dolled up and drove down to the Westwind Lodge. We had a ball. The guys just loved us. We brought someone home and had just the greatest time. We had such a good time that we did it again the next night. Yes. Mella had been sleeping in the spare bedroom down the hall, but now she would just stay in my bed all night long. Sometimes the guy would sleep over and there would be three of us in the bed. It was so cozy.

We scored almost all the time. A man, on the prowl, might not pick up anyone. A woman, on the prowl, has a better chance. And two women on the prowl. Just imagine.

Some nights we brought home one man. Some nights we brought home two men. There were nights when we brought home three. And sometimes more. Sometimes we just emptied out the whole bar and had a real party. I had had so many cocks inside my mouth and my cunt now. And even my rectum. I was a regular old pro. Except, no, I didn't do it for money. I just liked it.

Of course there was that occasional evening when there just weren't any men in the lounge. Just Mella and me. We would drive home together. Just the two of us. We would go to bed together. Just the two of us. And we would have a good time. Just the two of us. We enjoyed that too. For those nights, we bought a double-headed dildo. And besides, you'd be surprised at how much sensation you can get with just two pussies rubbing together.

I still go to the cemetery to visit mother's grave every week, but I don't bring flowers. I am too much of a lady to do what you are thinking. I would never spit on my own mother's grave. But when I think of what she did to me...... When I think of all the years I lost, that I am desperately trying to make up for...... An icy cold feeling envelops me as I stare at her gravestone. I do not get hysterical. I am totally calm. 'Calm as a cucumber' as the cliché goes. You see, since I first began to fuck, my whole life has changed. My whole personality has changed. I am no longer fidgety and fretful. I no longer whine and complain. I am just fine. I have become worldly. I have become sophisticated. I am now a full-fledged strumpet. And I no longer have a bad case of nerves.



A Bad Case of the Tingles



Karl and Joan finished their dinner and sat back to talk. As they shared the highs and lows of their day, Joan became more and more distracted. She was visibly fidgeting in her chair. Finally, she could take it no longer. "Talking about these mundane things makes me want to tackle you!" Joan ate Karl up with her eyes.

Karl smiled devilishly. He challenged Joan, "So tackle me."

That evening Joan was feeling particularly sexy and bold. She wanted to tease Karl. She wanted to try being provocative--a very unusual desire for her since she was a natural submissive. With Karl being a natural dominant, this was the first relationship Joan had been in that met her submissive needs. She found that the more Karl accepted her sexual submissiveness, the more confident she felt with her sexuality in general. The more confident she felt, the more she enjoyed sex and wanted sex. She became ever more willing, even eager to explore various aspects of her own sexuality.

She wanted to try turning the tables on Karl somewhat. So instead of tackling Karl as commanded, she did the opposite. She sat back and smiled her own devilish little smile.

"How can I tackle you when you're sitting in an armchair?" She asked with a smirk.

Karl raised his eyebrows. He recognized that Joan was not challenging his dominance, but was experimenting with finding herself, sexually. He wanted to encourage her. Instead of punishing her for disobeying, he suggested, "Maybe you'll have to sit in my lap."

"I don't think that's tackling. Fishing, maybe," Joan punned.

"Hmm. What do you want me to do then?" Karl looked at Joan. He could see her practically vibrating with eager sexual energy. 

Joan was thrilled with Karl's concession. "I want you on your back, please."

"Come and lay down with me and I'll let you ravage me."

Joan shook her head. She wanted Karl with his hands behind his head, passive, watching. Her eyes promised him it would be worth it. 

Karl strode to the bed and laid down. Joan's sexual energy was definitely turning him on, which meant he had to fight his desire to take over. He satisfied himself with the thought that if the role reversal did not work for them, he would.

Seeing him on the bed, as requested, made Joan feel powerful. She was surprised to realize how much she enjoyed it. She wondered how far she could push--both herself and Karl.

She stood near the bed, but out of reach, and removed her blouse, then her bra. The appreciative expression on Karl's face made her feel sexy. 

"I thought you were going to tackle me? Come closer."

Joan took a step back. "I've changed my mind."

She grasped the hem of her skirt and inched it up. Joan asked, "Can you see if I've been naughty?"

Karl lowered his eyes immediately to her hem. Joan continued to pull her skirt up. She teased, "Can you tell yet?"

Karl continued to watch Joan as if his eyes were glued to the hem of her skirt. Joan rewarded Karl for his patience when she finally flashed him her naked pussy.

Joan reveled in the powerful sexual feelings her teasing had engendered. She could see that her teasing pleased Karl and that brought on such a strong rush of desire to further please him, that her submissiveness surged to the forefront, even as she continued to control the action. When she felt her submissiveness that strongly, she tended to refer to herself in the third person as pet.

"Has pet been a good girl or a bad girl?"

Karl played along. "No panties? You hussy!"

"Oh, yes, pet has been a very bad girl today!" Joan turned her ass to Karl, wiggling it as she removed her skirt.

Karl groaned, "Yeah, show me!"

"Show you? You want to see how bad pet has been today?" Joan turned back around and approached the bed.

"Yes. Tell me how bad you've been, so I can punish you appropriately." Karl's voice was full of promise.

A shiver of desire shot through Joan, tightening her already hard nipples and sending more of her juices down her thighs. "Well," Joan said, "pet thought of Sir all day. Sir's voice mail this morning was so sexy it inspired pet all day long. It made pet's tits tingle so much pet had to rub them." Joan rubbed her breasts, teasing the nipples.

Karl reached a hand towards Joan. "Mmm. Need help?"

Joan hopped backwards a step and shook her finger at Karl. "We're playing show and tell right now. Keep your hands behind your head, like a good Sir."

Karl was amused. He put his hands back behind his head and said, "Yes, pet."

Joan went on with the story she was weaving. "After awhile, I had to hear the voice again. But when I heard it again, it sent tingles straight to my pussy." She smoothed her hands down her own body, feeling her curves and the silk of her skin.

Karl's eyes followed Joan's hands down her body. "Oh, no! Whatever did you do?"

"I was forced, forced I tell you, to rub my pussy." She matched words to deed and rubbed her pussy lightly.

Karl encouraged, "How wonderful!"

"But the tingles kept moving! I had to chase them all over my pussy!"

"Did you ever catch those pesky tingles?"

"Do you want the whole story or the condensed version?" Joan said in a mock-stern voice at his interruption. She knew he was having a hard time following her lead for once, and it made her that much hotter for him that he was trying so hard for her.

"The whole story by all means!"

Joan put her foot on the bed beside Karl. She completely exposed her pink, wet, swollen pussy to Karl. He could plainly see how excited her playing was making Joan. Joan pointed to her pussy lips. "They tingled here." She rubbed her pussy lips, lightly teasing herself.

Karl felt his cock stiffen as he watched the display.

"Then it really tingled here," Joan went on. She pushed a finger into her dripping wet hole. She fucked herself with her finger, making wet sounds.

"Mmmm. That looks like a very sensitive spot." Karl asked, "Just one little voice made all those tingles?"

"Oh, yes. It's a very powerful voice." Joan removed her finger from her pussy and pointed to her clit. "Then it tingled here."

Karl was beginning to ache to take a more active part in Joan's story. He offered, "Maybe my tongue can catch those pesky tingles."

Joan pouted, "But you weren't there then!"

Karl shook his head. "Torture! What did you do?"

"I couldn't escape the tingles. I thought they were being bad, so I spanked them. Bad tingles, bad!" Joan spanked her pussy several times with her hand.

Karl inhaled sharply. His cock began to throb with his arousal and need for Joan.

Joan continued, "And still they didn't go away! So I thought I needed to fuck them away. Now, where's my dildo?" Joan looked around theatrically. "If only I could find a dildo to show you what I did next."

"Hmm. Yes, quite a quandary."

"There's never a dildo around when you need one!"

"Perhaps you can use this," Karl offered his rock-hard cock. Joan eyed it hungrily.

"Why, Sir! You've found my dildo!"

"Please help yourself."

"Sir, is so generous." Joan touched her finger to her lips coyly and batted her eyelashes at Karl.

"Yes. It's true."

"I always need to lube my dildo first. Let me show you how I did that." Joan climbed on the bed on her knees, next to Karl.

"I'm also humble. And gracious."

"I've noticed that about you, Sir. Now pay attention, please. Lubing the dildo is very important."

Joan leaned over Karl's cock and took it in her mouth. Karl inhaled deeply with the sensation of her warm mouth surrounding his sensitive glans. He had to restrain himself from touching her head, though he wanted, at least, to comb his fingers through her hair, letting her know how much he loved the feeling of her mouth.

"Yes, pet. I'm a big fan of lubing."

Joan slid her mouth up and down Karl's cock several times, going all the way to the back of her throat. When she could not take any more and had to have him inside her, she stopped and said,"Now pet is ready to insert the dildo."

"Mmm, may I touch you? Or must I keep my hands behind head?"

Joan straddled Karl and reached down to his cock. "Dildos don't touch, Sir."

"Oh, right, right." 

She lowered herself as she guided Karl's cock into her hot, wet pussy. She moaned at the glorious, full feeling of his cock seated all the way inside her. "Oh, god!" she moaned.

"Mmm. I can begin to understand the tingles," Karl said softly as he felt Joan's velvety channel surround his engorged cock. Her earlier lubrication combined with her natural arousal made the entry feel amazing, sending jitters through Karl's core as he felt her settle down on his shaft.

Joan began a slow up and down motion on Karl's cock. "I don't think my dildo feels as good as yours does, though."

"Well, you can use mine whenever you want."

"Once again Sir is unfailingly generous. I really tried to fuck the tingles away with my dildo, but I couldn't help think of the voice again."

"Oh, no! Not the voice again?"

Joan began to move faster on Karl's cock, her breasts bouncing with the motion. Karl was fascinated.

"Oh, yes. It made me think if Sir were here he could touch me and that would be so much better than being all alone."

Karl groaned with relief. Finally, he could touch her! "You're right. Sir would touch you here." 

He took her breasts in his hands, weighing them, kneading them, pulling on the nipples. He had enjoyed her power play, but it was time for him to take control back. She had him so worked up he needed to fuck her hard. He squeezed her breasts as he bounced his hips up to meet her descending hips.

"Oh, Sir!" Joan's breath caught as she gratefully ceded her power back to Karl. That had been amazingly sexy and fun, but she needed Karl to fuck her as ifhe owned her. When he fucked her like that, it made her feel, with each powerful stroke, that he was telling her no other woman would do.

Karl moved his hands from Joan's breasts to her hips. He dug his fingers in and fucked her down on him as he fucked up into her. "Ride my cock!"

"Oh,oh, yes! This is just what I imagined would happen if Sir were here!"

Karl grabbed her ass then spanked it. He growled, "Yes, fuck me pet!"

Joan cried out, "It's too much! Oh, god, don't stop!" Her hips pumped up and down as fast and hard as she could make them.

Karl felt his imminent orgasm. He urged, "Come, pet! Come for me!"

Joan's cunt clenched; her back arched. She came, crying out wordlessly.

The action of Joan's cunt on Karl's cock sent him over the edge. He tensed, his mouth open, as his cum jetted deep into Joan, again and again.

Joan fell limply across Karl, both of them panting and sweaty.

Karl wrapped his arms around Joan. He stroked her back affectionately. He said, "Such a clever pet to find a way to soothe the tingles."

Joan smiled the dreamy smile of the well-fucked. "Thank you, Sir," she murmured.

"Sir is pleased with his pet." Karl stroked Joan's cheek. "Although there will be an accounting for your misbehavior," he promised. He felt a shiver go through Joan's body. He combed her hair behind her ear. He kissed her softly. "Lie beside me and put your head on my chest."

Joan moved to lie beside Karl on her side, her head on his chest. She felt his cum dripping down her leg. She played lightly with the hair on his chest. She reveled in the affection she felt from Karl as he curled his arm around her and swept his hand soothingly up and down her side. 

When Joan felt the hand on her slowing down, she whispered, "Sir needs to sleep."

Karl gave a small nod. "G'night, my loving pet."

"G'night, my loving Sir."