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BALANCE thick skull Youve got see
Keywords: M/F oral, anal, nc, b&d
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Balancing the Books -Sam Hill VI
Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
Balancing the Books- Sam Hill VI - (balance.txt) - Life takes a
U-turn for Sam both romantically and professionally as he struggles to
come to grips with his failure to live up to his moral code. There's a
lot of set-up, but I promise Sam gets laid a lot later. M/F oral, anal, nc, b&d
Balancing the Books
It had been a week since Staci had broken Sam's nose. He was just
beginning to emerge from the funk of the tense armistice between them
over the past five days.
With the raccoon mask of blackened eyes fading, but the
tape still across his nose, Sam was ready to sue for peace. Maybe he
needed to be shaken up. He knew he needed to get laid and he hadn't
gotten that in a week either. He tried to be nonchalant as he wandered
over to her desk.
"Hey doll, what say we turn off the chill machine and try to
talk this out," he said.
"I don't know Sam," Staci was still guarded, "I haven't made up
my mind about a lot of things."
She had busted his nose and SHE was hurt. Sam drew a quick breath
and then held it. Arguing some more wasn't going to help. He knew he
had fucked up, but, damn it, she didn't need to let him twist slowly in
the wind. Either move on or get over it.
He waited a minute to let his emotions cool and then tried again.
"What things haven't you made up your mind about?" Sam asked.
Staci frowned. She didn't want to make the thoughts she had real
by saying them aloud. She had been fuming. Now Sam wanted her to sort
the real from the raging emotions.
"I don't know if I feel the same way about you," she started on
safe ground, then ventured to her fears, "I don't know if I should even
stay in this office with you anymore- after what happened."
That hit Sam harder than her haymaker. Life without Staci was
unimaginable. She had always been there, through two partners and three
marriages. He counted on her. It would be hell never to touch her huge
hooters or know her hot embrace, but he'd lived in hell before. Not
having her at the desk out front would be like the end of life itself.
"You'd quit over... the incident?" Sam was shocked.
Sure he'd been an asshole, but he'd been an asshole before. He
couldn't believe she was that shaken by a drunken blunder. After all,
she had defended herself just fine. He didn't understand.
"It wasn't just what you did," Staci started and then it came
pouring out. "It's how you've been. You've been a different than
I thought I knew. I don't know if I feel safe around you. I don't know
if I can ever trust you again. I'm so confused."
Then she was bawling. Sam felt dead inside. He couldn't help her
through this. He was the problem. He felt like gum on the bottom of
someone's shoe, worthless and irritating.
"I didn't mean to scare you," Sam tried to explain, "I was drunk.
I just wanted to play."
"I didn't and you wouldn't stop," Staci looked up, suddenly void
of tears. "I said no and you didn't stop. And you've been nothing but
drunk for the last month."
"Then fine! Leave if you want! You've finally beaten me down
and it's time to stick the knife in my back. Not that I need your
help now, no, I'm just peachy," Sam screamed at her.
She was really crying when he stalked out of the office.
Sam had never liked guns. He got scared when people pointed them
at him. He liked pointing them at other people more, but not much. But
they weren't supposed to go off. People weren't supposed to force your
hand. People weren't supposed to get brave.
Sherman Twyler didn't feel the same way. Perhaps he saw Sam's
dislike of guns in his eyes. Maybe he thought he wouldn't shoot. Twyler
was wrong and Sam was paying the price.
The fool had even ducked into the bullet, turning a chest wound-
serious, but survivable- into an instantly deadly in his temple.
And Sam had crawled into a bottle from the remorse.
It wasn't easy to kill a man. He knew it wasn't his fault. Twyler
had a gun. The cops had cleared him. He hadn't meant to kill him. None
of that helped. He had to numb the memory of a being alive one
instant and dead- from his own bullet- the next.
For once in his life Sam didn't give a shit about Catalano one
way or the other. He looked through the bars at the grinning
detective's face with a complete lack of emotion.
"You look good in orange," Catalano quipped, "In fact I like
everything about this picture. I hope they got you good."
Even through the throbbing fog surrounding the pound of a hammer
on his skull, Sam knew there was something wrong with his lack of
emotion. Catalano deserved to be at least hated. But right now Sam
had to limit his emotions to his pity for himself.
He wasn't going to get out of the drunk tank until his court
date sometime in the morning. Even then there was a question whether he
could pay his fine. He hadn't been working while he had been on his
drunk. He was pretty well screwed.
Then Catalano's face fell as the Sergeant came to Sam's cell with
Sam's clothes and his keys out.
"Somebody came for you," he said.
That was a shock to Sam. He didn't think anyone knew- or cared
where he was.
It was Staci. She looked very sad.
"Hi doll, I didn't think you cared," Sam cracked wise.
"Don't be so sure I do," Staci said frostily. "Maybe I think it's
part of my job to bail out the boss."
At least it didn't sound like she was quitting. That was the
first good news Sam had in weeks.
"Don't think we're going back to my place," Staci warned him as
he got in her car. "I don't like drunks throwing up all over."
He wished she hadn't reminded him. Thinking about it made him
want to throw up. He dealt with the nausea as Staci silently drove him
back to the office.
"If you can clean yourself up, a client left a message on the
machine," she told him when she pulled up to the building. "I'll
come in one more time tomorrow and see if there's any reason to return
the call."
Staci was not one bit more helpful in the morning. At least she
wasn't crying any more. She had gone through her sorrow for the death
of her idol. Now she was cold to the drunk that had taken over his
body.
Fuck her, Sam thought. It isn't as slick as a detective story.
He was mourning the same loss in his own way. She didn't have to try
and make it worse.
At that moment he hated her more than any of his wives. She
blamed him for stumbling and wouldn't help him up. Rage at her unjust
abandonment stiffened Sam's back.
He was going to see the client. He was going to take the job. He
was going to show her. He was Sam Hill. It was his name on the door.
He was the detective. She was the receptionist. They'd leave it at
that.
"I got your message Mr. Goss. What did you want to see me about?"
Sam said as he returned the call.
"My has run off and she's leaving credit card hits halfway
across the country," Goss said. "I want you to find her."
"Cancel the card and divorce her," Sam replied.
"But I want her back," Goss said.
"I can't drag her back," Sam growled. "You got a beef, take it to
the cops. They can drag her back if she breaks any laws."
"You don't sound like you want this job very much," Goss snapped.
"It isn't a job. It's a wild goose chase," Sam snapped back.
"What am I supposed to do? Sneak up on her and say: honey you got to
come back to your husband because I've been sent for you?"
The phone clicked at the other end.
Staci's face was a dark scowl.
"I don't think you want to work!" she scolded. "If you're not a
detective, then I don't see why you need an office girl."
Sam was careful here. Maybe he didn't want to lose her. It
certainly wouldn't be the same without her. But if she was going to
have this attitude, maybe she ought to move on. He decided not to make
a decision.
"You go another job offer?" Sam accused.
Staci shook her head.
"Then I can pay you a couple of months yet. You might as well
stay until... until the money runs out," Sam had choked back, "until
you bleed me dry".
He wasn't having much luck sorting out the big for once.
Too many emotions flared when he tried to think rationally. What he
needed was a drink.
"Now you hold down the fort. I've got to go out," Sam told her.
"Got to go out for what, Sam?" he heard an inkling of the
Staci in her concern.
"Cigarettes, I've got to get some cigarettes," Sam lied.
"But you don't smoke," Staci observed.
"I think I want to start," Sam said as he closed the door.
It was pure momentum that carried him down the stairs. He didn't
want that drink anymore. Staci knew he was going to get a bottle and
for the first time that bothered him. It had become his answer to
every challenge.
He had decided not to buy a bottle before he left the office,
but he wasn't going to let Staci think she had changed his mind. Now
he was wandering aimlessly around the streets.
He remembered doing that to think. Now all he wanted to do was
move robotically along and not think. He couldn't help himself when
he caught a glimpse of his unshaven, drawn face in a store window.
He looked like shit. He stopped at the corner and bought a pack of
cigarettes.
"This your brand?" Sam asked as he tossed the pack on Staci's
desk. "I decided against it. You keep those."
Maybe it was just feeling better about himself, but Sam thought
he saw hope in her eyes.
His next shot at redemption came the next day. A Mr. Haller
wanted Sam to tail his wife. He wasn't sure she was meeting anyone,
but he wanted to know for sure. Sam was just to tail her and make
notes of her daily routine. No pictures were necessary.
It was odd enough that Sam called the building with the address
Haller had given him and asked for Haller. He was told, none too
politely, that the residents all had their own phones and he would
have to look up the right number.
At least Haller lived where he said he did. As long as this woman
came out of the apartment Haller said she would, she'd be fair game.
Wife or not, Haller would have some reason to want her followed.
He wrote out everything and then went out and dropped his
notes on Staci's desk.
"Here's the case. Type it up and start the clock," Sam tried to
be as businesslike as possible.
Staci snorted at him.
Haller- he didn't know her first name, positively begged to be
followed. She made no sudden turns or changes of direction. She spent
the morning in s succession of stores and ate at a sidewalk cafe that
Sam could observe from across the street.
It was a piece of cake. He followed along and jotted down places
and times. It was also boring. Sam found himself hoping she would have
a lover to meet in the afternoon. Instead she went home. Sam watched
the building the rest of the day.
"That's one day," Haller said when Sam reported in. "I want you
to stay on her at least a week to make sure."
Seven hundred bucks would be two good weeks in one. Sam was
lulled into a good mood. He even forgot he hated Staci.
"This guy is shelling out $100 a day for you to watch her shop?"
Staci snorted as she entered his log into the report.
Then she caught herself and the demon returned.
"I guess that's lucky for you," she sneered. "Not too taxing of
your professional skills."
She made "professional" sound like a dirty word. She reminded Sam
that it was only a truce between them and an armed truce at that. He
remembered he hated her again.
The second day she played tennis in the afternoon. It was the
third day that Sam walked into the trap. She was in an upscale shopping
center, all brickways and fountains between the high-priced shops.
There were too many exits for Sam to keep his distance.
He was strolling down the mallway when he saw her headed straight
toward him. He looked past her and tried to act casual. It was no good.
She was coming for him.
"Hi, I'm Jasmine Haller, but you know that or you wouldn't be
following me," she confronted him.
She let him stammer a moment and then cut him off.
"Don't bother to deny it. It isn't the first time he's had me
followed," she said. "The other and I worked out a deal. Want to
hear it?"
Sam stopped trying to talk and nodded.
"You can come with me. You can drive me around. That way it will
be easier on both of us," she said and then fixed him with sincere
eyes. "I never ran around on my husband before. He's just so jealous.
Then he kept having me followed and it pissed me off. Finally I made
up my mind. If he was going to have me followed to see if I was
sleeping with other men, I was going to sleep with the that were
following me."
She let that soak in.
"You won't have to worry about losing me if we're in bed
together," she said lightly.
It was a tempting offer. Too tempting. He wouldn't have
considered it for a moment if it hadn't been over a week since he'd
gotten laid. Still, it was too hinckey. He didn't care about his
client. There was some other smell of danger about her offer.
"Let me sleep on it before I sleep on it," Sam tried to be
clever.
"Any time," she said lightly, "Now I want to go out at 9:00
tomorrow. I trust you'll be in front of the building?"
Staci came in while Sam was shaving in the morning. She watched
for a minute and then cleared her throat.
"Sleeping with the client's now?" she was eerily on target.
Sam had almost forgotten her acute sense of human behavior. His
chance of using it was lost in their feud. Now she was adding to the
loss by turning it into a weapon against him.
"She offered, but I'm not going to," Sam said.
"Why not, Sam? Why not?" Staci jeered him, "Screw your client.
Screw everybody. You haven't been getting any, have you? Why let
something like ethics stop you? Go ahead. What do you care?"
"Because it stinks," Sam said. "I don't care how lousy you think
I am; I still know this business. Women don't come onto the detective
except in fiction. I'm being played."
He had aimed the barb about detective at Staci. Either it
hit its mark or she was chagrined at not seeing his point about the
set-up before Sam did. She shut up.
Mrs. Haller was harder to turn down. She didn't argue when Sam
told her he'd decided to keep his distance. She didn't beg when he
said he'd ferry her around, but that was it. She didn't give him
any warning before she used the sap in her purse.
Women were always giving him headaches. That was his first
thought as he came around in the cheap hotel room. His second thought
was that he was bound hand and foot and he was in trouble.
A slick-haired, bug-eyed ugly Peter Lorre type was standing by
the bed. He was breathing unattractively between his teeth.
"You should have gone out of town, Mr. Hill," he sniveled, "We
would have so much more time to amuse ourselves."
His throbbing head made Sam slow. He wondered for a moment how
this guy knew about the other case. Then he realized he was the one
being stalked. He decided to play dumb and see what the guy would give
him.
"What are you talking about out of town? I'm following this
broad" Sam said.
"Oh Mr. Hill, you don't have to pry. I'm willing to tell you
everything," he cackled, "The truth will sound like a wild when
we're done with you."
Of all the strange things to have go through his mind, Sam found
himself thinking about the lost money from this cushy job and then how
right he was to turn down this weasel on his first attempt to hire Sam.
That would be one on Staci if he got out of this alive.
""You see, Mr. Hill, you have overly complicated my life," the
little droned on, "Mr. Twyler had a purpose on this Earth even if
he was only a cheap thug. His premature demise has left me with a
dilemma- a dilemma that falls on you to solve."
Sam had a moment of vertigo. Not that again. He didn't want to
relive those fatal seconds, but they flashed unwanted in his mind.
"First, however, we need to strain your relationship with the
police," the toady little grinned. "For that, Beverly is going to
assist me."
Jasmine-Beverly, whatever her name was, came out of the bathroom
looking rough. She didn't look exactly like a willing participant in
this man's madness. She looked even less like she was going to cross
him.
"You know what to do," he told her. "Be good now."
She reached out to undo Sam's belt. The little stepped closer
to watch. Sam didn't know what they had planned, but he was sure he
wouldn't like it. He figured it was his one chance to get them. He
gathered himself and tried to spring off the bed at the little man.
Sam flopped like a fish in the air and saw a bright flash of
light behind his eyes. When his senses cleared, he saw the little
was holding a long stick- a cattle prod.
"I was a bit disappointed when you were co-operating," the
snickered. "I didn't think I was going to get to use my toy."
Sam suddenly felt sore all over from the jolt. He didn't want
another taste. He lay back and waited to see what Beverly was going
to do.
It wasn't fair. Beverly was trying to excite him. He may not have
been able to resist any time, but her success was certain given his
unwilling celibacy. He still tried to think of other things, but his
cock was eager to respond to her fingers and then her mouth.
"So I see the legend is true. The little head is stronger than
the big head," the cackled, and then instructed the woman, "You
know what to do."
She got up and turned her back to Sam. When she sat down he felt
his cock slide into a grip of sandpaper.
"You see, I've already taken care of the brutal part," the
crowed, "Beverly was quite unwilling, I can assure you. Now we just
need the semen sample to confirm the rape."
Sam was determined to withhold. The little was right. No one
would believe him. She says he raped her. The DNA doesn't lie. Who is
going to believe they tied him up and made him give a sample?
She moved up and down on Sam. He concentrated on how unwelcome
his cock felt inside her. She moved faster. Sam still held back.
"I see he has control," the little said, "You are going to
have to work harder, Beverly."
Without a word she bent forward and Sam felt a finger, and then
two push into his anus. She bore down hard on his prostate and rubbed.
It was the most devious torture. His cock was begging to fuck her. His
balls were screaming to explode. He felt like a steel rod went from her
fingers up his cock as she tried to urge the from his balls.
He couldn't give them the evidence. He couldn't be their patsy.
Sam was straining every fiber of his being holding back the flood of
cum. It was worse than a beating. The little grew impatient.
"I'll just have to help you," he said.
"No!" Beverly screamed.
Sam looked up in time to see the prod move down. The jolt knocked
him mercifully unconscious. As he rose back to the land of the living,
he was figuring that the had tapped Beverly on the hand with his
wicked wand. She was laying beside him doubled up and holding her
crotch.
They had what they wanted. Sam was sapped down again and when he
came to, the ropes were loose enough he could struggle free. He limped
back to the office.
The feud with Staci reared its head in its most devastating way
when he got back to the office. She sniffed as he limped past her.
Sam looked into her cold, unsympathetic eyes and kept silent.
He'd have to get himself out of this one on his own. He slumped
into his chair and put his head down on his desk. The cobwebs wouldn't
clear. Instead of thinking, he passed out.
His head still wasn't clear the next day. He was wandering around
the office trying to clear his head when Staci broke the icy silence.
"You don't smell drunk, but you're acting drunk," she observed.
"What about this woman you're supposed to tail?"
She moved back protectively when Sam leaned against her desk.
Then she looked at him closely.
"Are you hopped up on something, Sam?" she accused. "Your eyes are
like pinwheels."
He spilled his guts. The bogus client, the rape, the impending
doom. Staci listened unconvinced and then began her own examination.
She got up and started looking through Sam's hair.
"I think you've had a concussion," Staci diagnosed. "Too many
bangs on your skull. You've got to see a doctor."
"Just one?" Sam couldn't resist," I'm seeing two of everything
else."
She put him to bed. No nonsense, just a cold towel on his forehead
and turned out the lights. Sam slept most of the day.
It was a call that put Staci through hell. Not that she hated
Baker that much. There was too much history in the fact that she would
call him at all. There were too many things she was trying to forget,
too many things that confused her and they were all in her mind as she
talked to the police Lieutenant.
"You know, I've been thinking and this makes Sam pretty much a
pimp, doesn't it?" Baker said as she made her invitation.
"Sam has nothing to do with this," Staci said. "This is just
between you and me."
She could hear him swell up on the other end of the line. He was
still cautious.
"You mean you can't get enough of the hot cop?" Baker prompted.
"Oh you know it," Staci played along and then got real, "I've
got my own friendly request this time. And don't worry, I'm not going
to put you out on a limb. Would you turn me down anyway?"
It was less of a cold-blooded transaction than it sounded. Staci
hadn't been oiled, lubed and had her filters changed in a while either.
Baker was like a big kid in bed. Maybe that was why she felt safe.
He even brought her flowers. It didn't matter they were the kind
you get at the check-out of a gas station. It was the thought that
counted.
"Heard Sam's fallen on hard times," Baker was direct. "That have
anything to do with this?"
"It's way too complicated," Staci said. "Let's just say this may
be an audition for the new in my life."
Baker didn't take that they way she thought. She saw the panic in
his eyes. There was a reason he didn't have a steady girl. He didn't
like the maintenance. He changed the subject back to Sam.
"I saw the blotter entry about him being picked up for public
intox," Baker said. "Is he still mooning about that Twlyer guy?"
"I don't know what he's mooning about," Staci was getting miffed,
"He just let it beat him and became a drunk. I didn't think you came
here to talk about Sam."
Baker was careful, not stupid. He could see there was trouble in
the lover's paradise. All of a sudden he felt dirty. Sam might not be
exactly his friend, but it was still loutish to be romancing his squeeze
behind his back.
"I don't know what we came here to talk about and that's a fact,"
Baker said. "I figured you'd tell me."
Now Staci was uncertain. Baker wasn't staying in the little round
hole she had assigned him. She realized the trust was between Baker and
Sam, not between Baker and her. But she had no other option.
"I'm trusting you, Baker, on whatever thing you've got going
with Sam, you've got to promise me that you're not going to use this
against Sam," she said.
"Sounds serious," Baker said. "I'll do what I can."
It was a faint guarantee. Staci would feel better if he was
staring at her instead of into her eyes. Obviously, it wasn't going
well for her. Again, she had no other option.
"A couple of days ago, did a blonde- about 5-foot 6, slender
build, come in crying about being raped?" Staci asked.
"Sam's messed up in that?" Baker was shocked. "She was gone over
pretty good. M.E. said she was bruised all over. Her face looked like
someone held her against a wall and punched her just for fun."
"Oh Christ!" Staci gasped.
"You telling me Sam finally snapped and went off on someone?"
Baker was still amazed.
"No. Sam had nothing to do with beating her," Staci sounded less
certain than she was trying to portray, "But someone is trying to hang
a frame on Sam. I don't think it's over yet."
Baker was thinking. Staci hoped she had not just sealed Sam's
fate.
"Naw," he said finally, "We've seen Hill drunk. He's a morbid
cuss, but he doesn't get violent. If he liked beating up women, he
wouldn't be so soft about killing that guy."
Staci exhaled in relief. She wasn't so sure about Sam's mood in
a drunken state, but Baker didn't need to share her doubts.
"Sam says they tied him up and made them give them a sample to
incriminate him. Said it had something to do with Twyler," Staci said.
"Made him give a sample?" Baker was grinning at the scenarios in
his mind.
"With a cattle prod," Staci said.
Baker winced.
"They hit him over the head pretty good too. He's seeing double,"
Staci added.
"Christ!" Baker groaned still imagining the cattle prod, "He must
really be out of commission."
"Wandered aimlessly around the office two days," Staci confirmed,
"I made him go to bed and told him to stay there."
"Then you really must be hurting," Baker said.
His gaze dropped to her chest for the first time. If poor Sam
couldn't give her what she needed, it would be a friendly thing to
help him out. He was going to walk away before. Now he had an excuse.
"Look, you don't disgust me and you're a lot different from Sam.
I don't have to be desperate to invite you over," Staci said, lying
about the desperate part. "But you're right. I was looking forward to
a little togetherness."
"And what am I supposed to do about this rape thing?" Baker
asked, still cautious.
"Not come up with any tips about whose DNA might be in the
sample," Staci said. "I'm not asking you to do anything but forget
what I told you. But if you come up with any reason she would have to
frame Sam..."
"That's easy," Baker said, taking off his coat and loosening his
tie. "She's Twyler's girl. She said she didn't know her attacker, but
I can see how it would shrink the collar if Sam got fingered. Have to
figure it had to do with the dead guy."
Baker wanted his payment for his information. His was
hanging open and he was working on his pants. Staci began to undress
robotically. Baker had given her too much to think about. She only
hoped he would distract her so she wouldn't miss her first fuck in
weeks worrying about it.
She only caught part of her first fuck in weeks for other reasons.
She was thinking about Baker. She was thinking about Baker even as he
finished slobbering on her and rolled between her legs. This
was a queer bird. Even though she was in her own place, it felt so
artificial.
Baker went from talking business to fucking and she was sure he
would be ready to talk business as he was dressing. There was no lead
up in this man. She felt like a client- or better, that Baker was a
client.
Then the part of the fuck she caught, caught up with her. Baker
was making her feel pretty good. Then he was making her feel very good.
His cock driving into her softness became much more interesting than
his manners. Staci dug her fingers into his back and pushed her hips
toward Baker as he thrust into her.
"Oh yeah! Make it rough," Baker growled. "Take it from me!"
It was a fortunate phrasing. Staci felt herself tingle at his
tone. She arched her back to move her hips with more energy as Baker
plowed into her. He was making her feel very, very good.
"Jesus Christ! Jesus Fucking Christ Almighty!" Baker swore as his
cum boiled up to fire from his cock.
"No! Don't stop!" Staci begged as she felt his cock jiggle inside
her.
Baker obeyed with gusto. His thrusts were deliberate, but hard
enough to move Staci up the bed as he fucked her through his orgasm.
And it was enough. She shuddered as Baker's groin slammed into hers and
lay trembling as he came back again and again as she climaxed.
"You are one great lay, lady," Baker wheezed.
Staci took it as a compliment. Coming from Baker it was almost
tender. And he hadn't been so bad himself. She had been so wrapped up
in her emotional roller coaster with Sam that she had forgotten exactly
how nice it was to get laid.
She wrapped her arms around Baker and pulled him down onto her
chest. She shook her shoulders so he could feel her against
his chest.
"You give a a pretty good work-out yourself," Staci tried her
hand at Baker-speak.
Staci was thinking about Baker's crack about tightening a collar
around Sam's neck as she fell asleep. She woke up after a confused
dream about Sam in orange telling her he was drunk and that he
didn't mean to rape the girl.
It ended with the sobbing victim sapping Sam down in a flop
house room. The dream was silly, but Staci remembered solving the
whole thing in her dream. She just couldn't remember the solution.
Sam was looking better after his long sleep. He was looking
better, but his temper was worse. He had lost two days on the pair
that was out to frame him and he still didn't have any idea how to
proceed.
"Where the hell have you been?" he asked Staci crossly when she
came in at 9:00.
"Wasting my time buying breakfast for an asshole," Staci retorted.
She might not want him sent away on a bum rap, but that didn't
mean she had forgiven him. He would have to be a lot nicer to her before
she even though about forgiving him.
"Look, I've got a noose hanging over me and I'm edgy, okay?"
Sam made the semblance of an apology. "I wanted to get started early."
"You want to find out the girl's Twyler's girlfriend?" Staci
asked.
Sam stared.
"I asked our pal Baker about her," Staci said. "I gave you up on
the rape charge and he told me who she was."
"You told Baker?" Sam was not pleased.
"I thought he was your friend," Staci said.
"Not worth 20-to-life he isn't," Sam groaned.
"He didn't think you could do it," Staci said. "The was beat
up pretty good."
"Must have been the little guy," Sam mused. "He didn't treat her
much better than he treated me."
"Sounds like Twyler and his pissed this guy off," Staci said.
"Not like me," Sam said. "He said killing Twyler gave him a
problem."
They both fell silent to think.
Somewhere in his thoughts it occurred to Sam how Staci got her
information. She didn't waltz into police headquarters and have a
conversation. He was a bit surprised that he didn't feel mad at Staci
for fucking Baker. It didn't help his irritation that he wasn't getting
laid, but it didn't feel like Staci betrayed him.
That was the only realization Sam came to. Twyler, the and
the little toad of a were still a mystery. Sam remembered something
else the guy had said: Sam was supposed to fix something. He couldn't
figure out what a rape charge would fix.
Staci kept trying to remember her dream. There was something about
this case that she had seen subconsciously. Only it wasn't coming to
her.
There was only one thing Sam could grab onto. Toad-man and
Twyler's broad were hanging a rape charge over his head. They had two
days to disappear into the woodwork. Sam was feeling the pressure.
Sam knew only one way to make the edgy feeling go away. He had
to go look for his tormentors. He had to interrupt their plans before
before they could trap him.
"I've got to hit the streets," he told Staci. "I'm getting buggy
sitting around here."
"What are you going to look for?" Staci was skeptical.
"Not a clue," Sam admitted. "But I don't think I'll stumble onto
anything sitting here."
"Yeah, maybe you'll find someone else to accuse you of rape,"
Staci said.
Sam didn't know what was going on in Staci's head. She was
unpredictable now. She'd be helpful and then sarcastic. She'd act as
if nothing had happened and then ambush him with an explosion of rage.
He tried to keep his mind on his business. He didn't have a clue,
but he did have two leads. There was the storefront where he had found
Twyler and the apartment of the fictitious Mrs. Haller.
There had been something funny about the place Twyler was holed
up from the start. It still didn't make sense that the guy would be
ready to shoot Sam to get out of some DUI charge.
He went next door to the empty office where he had found Twyler.
The little redhead behind the counter looked up at him.
"You got your ticket?" she asked.
"I'm not here for my cleaning," Sam told her. "I'm interested in
what you know about the people that were in the office next door."
"The insurance guys? They've been gone a year," she said.
"No, after that, about a month ago," Sam said.
"There's been no one in there since the insurance guys," she
maintained.
Sam looked her over. She was about 5-foot 4 of pale skin and hair
like fine copper wire. The dress came up to a cowl neck, but it didn't
disguise the way her pushed out the front. It looked like she
was wearing some kind of push-up bra, but there was something there to
push up. The counter cut off the rest of view.
Sam studied her face. She didn't look like the chatty type. He
decided to blindside her.
"Look, I shot a guy in that place about a month ago. Don't tell
me there's been nobody in there," Sam tried the tough approach.
Her eyes got wide and she looked at Sam again.
"You the guy? I heard all about it. A real shoot-out, huh?" her
manner was not shocked, but eager.
Sam was sorry he reopened the wound. But he saw an opportunity.
He stepped up and leaned on the counter. The didn't move back.
"You know all about it? Tell me about it," Sam said.
"You said you were there," she snorted.
Sam reached out and brushed the swell of her left breast, looking
for her nipple. He gave it a friendly squeeze.
"I want to compare your to what I know," Sam said.
Far from being offended, the smiled up at Sam and her eyes
narrowed. They were starting something.
"They said it was real simple," she said. "He went for a gun in
the desk and you shot him between the eyes. Real t.v. stuff."
"And you never saw the guy before?" Sam asked.
"I didn't see him then," she corrected. "He was all covered up
when they brought him out. But there were a couple of hanging
around- measuring things. I thought they were going to set up a
business. I guess he was one of them."
"See a skinny blonde, about 5-foot 6, okay looking in a plain
sort of way?" Sam asked.
"You looking for her?" she pouted.
"She's the dead guy's squeeze," Sam said and then grinned at her,
"I like 'em a little shorter and red-haired."
"Well, I didn't see a woman," she said. "That mean you're
leaving?"
"What reason I got to stay?" Sam asked, hoping for the right
answer.
She screwed up her face. Her eyes darted left and right. Then
she snorted.
"You know what reason. Only I can't right now. Joe will be back
real soon," she groused.
"Here," Sam handed her his card, "I'll be in this office after
5:00. If you still have a reason."
"I get off at 6:00," she said.
Sam doubted the real estate company that managed the strip mall
even knew Twyler and associates were there. They had probably broken
into the office. He hoped the manager of the apartment building that
"Mrs. Haller" came from was more observant.
His name was Vincent and he was rude. He saw no reason to tell
Sam who rented any apartment. He didn't thaw when Sam told him the
police could get it out of him. He told Sam to send the cops.
Sam was not going to be rebuffed so easily. He knocked on the
door next door to the apartment.
"I'm wondering about the woman next door," Sam said when he
was surprised by the brassy that answered the door.
"She's got two legs and they go all the way up," she cracked.
"Is she still around? I haven't seen her for a couple of days,"
Sam said.
"You're the one that followed her a couple of days," the
accused.
"A job's a job. You seen my meal ticket the last couple of days?"
Sam asked.
"Let's not talk in the hall," she pulled him in, "Nosy neighbors."
She shut the door and Sam saw the look in her eyes. What the fuck
had he been wasting his time on? How could he be so drunk that he
forgotten the perks of working?
"Drink?" she asked.
"I think I'll need a clear head to read between the lines," Sam
told her. "Now what do you know about your neighbor?"
"It seemed she was only around for you to follow," she said. "I
saw a lot more of the greasy little guy."
"Then tell me about him," Sam said.
"He was a slick-haired snake," she said. "I saw him with Vincent
renting the place. He seemed to think I went with the room."
Sam sat down. He could see where someone could get that idea. He
wasn't going to mar his chances by pointing that out.
"He live here or just drop by?" Sam asked.
"I don't work out of my home," she shot Sam an icy stare. "I heard
him from time to time. I wasn't keeping track."
"But more than the woman," Sam asked.
"Hell yeah, she didn't seem to like him any better than I did.
I heard them shouting about that one night," she said.
Sam patted the chair arm beside him. She came over and plopped her
butt on the arm. Sam grabbed a handful of cheek.
"You gonna shout if I ask for some of the same?" Sam asked.
"I hope I scream," she said and leaned over on Sam.
She had a nice breast. It wasn't particularly big, but it was
bigger than any Sam had had in a week. And it was hanging next to Sam's
face. His cock was getting ahead of him.
He resisted his urge to make her scream by biting it. Instead,
Sam reached up to undo the buttons of her blouse.
"I like a of action," she said and got up, "Why don't we get
more comfortable?"
Sam left his coat over the chair and followed her into her
bedroom. She wanted everything to be right. She stripped back the covers
and quickly got out of her skirt and blouse. She waited until Sam
was dropping his pants before taking off the rest and laying on the
bed.
There wasn't a well-worn trail to her bed anywhere but in Sam's
mind. He wasn't in any condition to refuse her blatant offer if there
had been. She was too easy, but Sam didn't want to think about that.
He suppressed his niggling suspicions in favor of his needs.
"That's quite a weapon you got there," she grinned, staring at
Sam's crotch.
"Must think you're dangerous for it to be so alert," Sam said.
"I do want to eat it," she confessed.
Sam cursed every drink he had that made him forget how good it
felt to have a woman's mouth covering his cock. This week without sex
crap was bullshit. And the brassy knew what she was doing.
She let his cock steep in the wet heat of her mouth and played
with the underside of his cock with her tongue. She took her mouth off
his cock and dipped down to lick his balls. The sexy tickle made him
want to get his cock inside her and quickly.
He tried to get up and she pushed him back down and licked up the
underside of his cock. All of a sudden, Sam was happy to lie back and
let her mouth work its magic. Then she let him slide into a slight
suction in her mouth. She teased him with subtle movements of her head
and then crawled up his body with a smile on her face.
"I think you're ready for me now," she said as she reached under
herself to grab Sam's cock.
She must have been fingering herself while she blew Sam. Her
was wet and open as she fitted Sam to the slot and settled down. She
wiggled once with the head inside her and then slid smoothly down until
she sat on Sam.
"Mmmmmmm," she moaned as his cock flowed into her body, "That
feels good up inside me."
"You're telling me!" Sam agreed.
She rotated her hips without lifting off Sam. She ground his cock
in her sheath like a pestle in a mortar. Her hips made sharp jerks to
the rear each time they came around. Sam could feel her excite herself
in the copious lubrication bathing his cock.
She liked dick and she liked his in particular. Sam was happy to
let her use his. It felt good to have a woman moving so determinedly on
his hard-on. He stroked her thighs lightly as she worked his cock
around in herself.
"When I get going, pinch my nipples," she told him, "That always
makes me pop."
Her motion became a more sinuous back to front switch of her hips
with the sharp little backthrust still undisturbed. Sam could feel the
little patch of her pubic hair tickle him as she ground down on him.
"I'm going," she gasped, as her hips sped up, "I'm going pretty
good."
Sam caught her nipples between his thumbs and the side of his
hands and squeezed them as he closed his hands down over her breasts.
Her gasp sounded more like a cry of relief than pain. Her hips became
erratic and she leaned more onto Sam's hands.
Sam jerked his hips up to drive into her and help her through her
climax. Then it was his turn. He let her down and wrapped his arms
around her to roll her onto the bottom. He pushed himself up and did
his own version of the dance she had started.
He left his cock sheathed to the hilt in her and jerked his
hips side to side and up and down in his answer to her dance. She
moaned deliciously.
"Now that we've played around, I'm gonna fuck you," Sam warned.
The truth was that he could no longer restrain his urge to pull
back and drive his cock into her spongy insides. She did her part,
planting her feet on the bed beside him and holding his target firm for
his stabbing into her cunt.
Sam was glad she forced him down and took a climax from him
earlier. He was quick enough to call brief and he would have been
embarrassed if that was his best effort in front of a stranger.
His ego aside, it seemed like Sam's cock was never going to stop
pouring out the stored in his balls. It seemed every time he jerked
as the jetted out of his cock, it made him move inside her and
made him need to pour out one more squirt.
"I thought you were a cop, not a fireman," the woman said as she
felt his jizm leak out to soak her butt. "I didn't think your hose was
ever going to turn off."
"You're just too good, baby," Sam grinned, "I don't usually
like that. It must have been the company."
Informationwise, it had been not much. The woman promised to call
if the guy came back. As far as Sam's mental health, it had been a
godsend. Suddenly he found himself thinking clearer than he had in
a month.
That necessary little draining of his prostate had evened Sam
out in a multitude of ways. He was already re-evaluating the neighbor's
information on the way back to the office. Sam knew he'd been set up,
but the scope and complexity of the plan were beginning to interest
him. The toady guy had been working on it while Sam had been crawling
into his bottle.
The timing said it definitely had something to do with Twyler.
Maybe Sam would have to suck it up and go over the whole incident to
find out why this would be so interested in a cheap hood.
Sam was calm enough to accept his part of the blame when the
redhead showed up. He had been the one asking Staci to look up things
he didn't remember. Like how much Twyler died for- $80.
That was all Last Chance Bail Bond company was
willing to part with since Sam had saved them an $1,200 bail. That
was how much he got paid for killing a man.
Conversely, which was the side Sam was now working, it was how
much Twyler was willing to die for. It was a penny ante beef. He'd hit
a car and drove off. They'd fine him, maybe take his license. His
insurance would go up.
It was hardly worth taking a bullet over in Sam's eyes. Even if
they could prove he was driving drunk- and Sam was sure he had been-
that was only 30 days. A guy like Twyler's could do 30 days without
having to breathe while he was in the jug.
Staci had stayed over because she was curious what Sam was
working on. She agreed that Twyler was somehow the key. Sam had finally
mentioned that the guy he was after was also the one that tried to hire
him to go out of town.
The redhead caused an awkward moment of silence when she
walked in. Sam looked trapped. Staci looked strange and the redhead was
confused.
"Hey, if you're busy, I'll be on my way," the redhead said,
trying to back out of the office.
"No, I... we, were just working on a couple of details," Sam
sputtered, "It's late, I guess we'll wrap this up later. Come in."
Staci began to smile. It wasn't a pretty smile. It was a "you
rat bastard" smile. Sam addressed it.
"Staci, this is..."
"Rebecca Newton" the redhead filled in.
"Rebecca works next door to the office where I found Twyler,"
Sam explained. "I talked to her earlier today, but she was working and
we decided it would be more relaxed if she came by later."
It didn't take the smile off Staci's face, but half-way through
his spiel Sam realized he didn't care. He'd fucked women in the office
before Staci had backstabbed him. He had even more reason now.
Staci came to the same conclusion with less anger and more
remorse. This was all bullshit. The redhead had come to fuck Sam. Staci
knew that from the look on Rebecca's face when she saw her. She
shouldn't feel anything but a desire to clear the way. That's what she
would have done before her fight with Sam.
"Well, it's late and this cheapskate doesn't pay me overtime,"
Staci said and got up.
"What's up with her?" Rebecca asked when Staci was gone.
"She likes me to suffer and I don't think she thought you were
going to help her," Sam said.
Rebecca's concern dropped faster than Sam's eyes as he took in
the half of her behind the counter. It was trim like the rest
of her, but definitely a woman's butt. He forgot Staci almost as
quickly.
"I really do have some more questions," Sam started, "Perhaps I
should show you into the interrogation room."
Rebecca was not repelled by his office. Sam was secretly pleased
he'd changed the sheets only three days before. It was still a stiff
dose of 'other half' reality. His cot was one step from his desk, peeled
open as a blatant icon of the reason for her visit. Rebecca seemed to
find that clever and most of all convenient.
She reached immediately for the zipper of her dress. Sam wasn't
about to stop her, but he did have some questions.
"I really did think of a couple more things to ask you," Sam said
as the mauve print and Rebecca began to emerge from it.
Her bra was worth whatever she paid for it. Her appeared
huge and perfectly formed bubbling over the top of it. Sam had to
blink to remember his questions.
"When did you see the two checking out the office next door?"
was the first one.
"Let me think," she said, pausing in bra and panties. "It was a
while before the commotion. More than a few days, less than two weeks."
"Did you hear them or see them over there any other time in
between- or even after the incident?" Sam knew he better ask while
the questions still occurred to him.
"I don't know who was over there, but it sounded like there were
people moving things around the day after you shot that guy," she said.
Sam was glad that was his last question. He'd be able to distract
himself from re-living the shooting as soon as he got Rebecca out of
her underwear. Sam changed his tone.
""I don't believe a word of it, lady." he said with a grin as he
opened his belt. "I've got a hose here that I'm gonna use to beat the
truth out of you."
Rebecca was content to watch as Sam pulled off his pants and let
his cock bob out between the tails of his shirt. She kicked back into
action when he started on his buttons.
The bra had been a wonder and it hadn't. Rebecca would have got
leers whatever her were or were not encased in. They were nice,
good-sized with enough swing to catch your eye when she moved.
Sam saw them move as she bent forward to pull her over
her butt and down her legs. She was a porcelain princess of hair,
all skin of white marble, except for her coppery metallic furring and a
pair of strikingly crimson nipples.
Her bush was trimmed. but full, leaving a beacon in the paleness
of her skin that concentrated the gaze like the hair pointed inevitably
down the vee of her thighs into her sex. Sam thought he could find his
way without the markers, but they were interesting as an advertisement.
"You're a brassy boy," Rebecca said as she stood modeling for
Sam, "What are you going to do with a naked woman in your room?"
She threw it out like a challenge. She stood her ground, her
hands moving around her hips, but not as if she was touching herself.
She was being available and leaving it up to Sam.
"I told you. I've got this hose and I'm going to slap you around
with it," Sam repeated. "You can make it hard on yourself or easy on
yourself."
"I think it will be better hard," she said with a half-grin.
"I wouldn't know if you were telling the truth any other way,"
Sam said.
He took two steps toward her and she didn't flinch a bit. She was
ready for him to her up and stick his cock in her right then.
She might even like it when a reminded her how she was.
Instead, Sam reached over and rolled her nipple (the left again)
between his thumb and first finger quite gently.
"I might have to pat you down before we can get into the third
degree," Sam said down to her.
Rebecca was looking at him behind hooded eyes. Sam couldn't tell
if she was just waiting or re-assessing. Sam put both hands in her
and scoured their surfaces. He slid his hands down her body until they
met in her crotch.
She gave a half-grunt, half-moan as Sam closed his hands on the
inside of her thighs and let the sides of his hands rub her labia. Her
hips came forward and her head went back.
Sam took his hands away and clapped her on the shoulder.
"So much for the outside. Now I'm gonna check the inside," Sam
said as he turned her to his desk and pushed her shoulders down.
Sam dropped his left hand on her back to keep her bent over his
desk, resting on her elbows. He reached under her with his right and
dragged his fingers through the crevice of her crotch and then turned
his hand sideways to saw back and forth between the cheeks of her
ass.
"Get all nice and loose, because I'm checking out every entrance,"
Sam warned her.
Rebecca was none the worse for wear as Sam began his internal
examination. Sam had been right about her level of excitement. She took
two fingers as if they had been following a half dozen and her
hips began to move happily as Sam fucked her with them. It was a lively
little cunt, moving and shifting as his fingers slid back and forth.
She was more resistant, but also seemed more moved when
Sam pushed one finger against the circle of her anus. He pushed it in -
it was only a finger after all- rather rudely and started a slow creep
deeper into her rectum. Whether she whined, wailed or groaned as he slid
his finger into her ass was a matter of too fine a distinction for Sam.
She didn't sound troubled or remorseful.
As he rotated his finger in her ass, Sam was tempted to step
behind her and slide his cock into her cunt. It would be nice to bump
against that butt from this side, he thought, but he had other plans
for Rebecca.
He pulled his finger out of her ass and swatted her on the rear
playfully. He took his hand off her back and waited for her to stand up.
"Now I'm going to give you the hose," Sam said, propelling her
toward the cot.
He could make her feel dainty on the cot just fine.
"No, you just stand there. I'll take care of this part," Sam
told her as she started to crawl onto the cot.
One step was the perfect distance for his cot to be from his
desk. Rebecca fit perfectly into that gap. Sam sat on the edge of his
cot and lifted Rebecca down onto his cock. Her hands naturally fell on
the edge of his desk and she could take some of her weight as Sam
threw her up and down on his cock.
At first he eased her down until she sat on his lap with his cock
inside her. He let her move front to back as he held her down on his
cock.
"Now- are you telling me everything?" Sam continued his pretended
interrogation.
Sam picked her up and dropped her onto his cock. Her hands gripped
the edge of Sam's desk tighter as Sam moved her up and down faster. She
was small enough could work up to a good rhythm of jacking off with her
cunt.
"You want some more? You want some more?" Sam badgered her
as he dropped her on his stiff peg.
"Yes," she gasped, "Give me more. Hose me! Hose me hard!"
It was too intense. She was slight, but she wasn't that light. Sam
needed to find another way to finish her up. He stood up with a lunge
and picked her clear of the floor. She hung for a moment on his cock as
Sam put his arm under her and swung her around. He dropped her to the
cot and followed her down onto his knees behind her.
Her arms were folded under her head to keep her face out of the
covers and her toes dug into the cot. Sam held her up so he could ram
his cock into her and that left her knees a couple inches shy of
touching the cot.
Her butt was light enough to hold up just fine. Sam enjoyed
jamming his cock into the floating rear in his hands. From the sounds
under him, Rebecca was enjoying it just as much.
"Fuck me in the air!" she cried out, "Hold my ass up for a
jammin'! Shove it in there! That's it. Fuck me!"
She wasn't a shrinking violet with a dick in her. She was as
brassy as this afternoon's blonde's hair had been. But Sam had seen
that look in her eye back at the store. She dared to try her and
then rewarded them when they did.
Sam finally dropped her down and fell over her. He wanted his
last thrusts to be into a fixed object. He wanted her butt to try and
stop him as he drove his cock in her. He wanted to feel the final
resistance of as deep as it gets.
"O jeeze! Come on!" her tone turned to encouragement. "Come on!
You've got it all! Use it!"
Sam could feel her trembling as she shouted. Some were screamers.
She was a shouter. Sam was glad the rest of the floor went home at
night.
Sam dragged the heels of his hands back against her shoulders to
cut off her last retreat as he thrust for the finish. He wanted her to
feel him all over, around and in her as he stabbed his cock into her
and shot his load in her hungry cunt.
"You want a drink?" Sam asked as she cuddled next to him, her
head under his chin.
"You planning something I'd have to be drunk to do?" she
countered.
"What do you have to be drunk to do?" Sam asked.
She just laughed. Her breath tickled on Sam's breastbone. A bit
later he felt her stirring.
"You got a can?" she asked.
Sam realized what she meant in the middle of his literal
interpretation. He pointed the way with the wry realization that both
the literal and figurative came to the same in this case.
"You leaving me?" Sam asked when she emerged from the rest room
washed up and groomed.
"I can't stay here all night. I've got to go to work tomorrow,"
she told him.
There was one more zinger after she had dressed and turned to go.
"Oh, by the way? I did see your girl," she said with her hand on
the knob of the door. "She was sitting in a car out front not looking
happy the day after, maybe two days after you whacked that guy."
"Hope you got a lot of information last night," Staci snipped
when she got in the next morning.
She betrayed more disapproval than she wanted to with her retort.
Sam felt pleased. He didn't rub her face in it.
"She did know a couple things," Sam led her on, "This whole thing
is bigger than we thought. It started longer ago than the Twyler thing.
And there was something in the office that people were interested in
after that day."
"It still doesn't explain framing you for rape," Staci said.
"I remembered something else all on my own," Sam said, "The guy
said he wanted to keep me away from the police."
"Then maybe I should call our friend Baker and find out why,"
Staci said.
"Or maybe you're just sweet on him," Sam accused.
"You brought us together," Staci reminded Sam.
Their armed peace was threatening to erupt again. Sam held his
hands up in a gesture of surrender. He knew things went better when they
worked together.
"I'm just wondering what you're going to ask him," Sam said.
"You've got a point," Staci admitted after a moment's thought, "We
don't know what this guy thinks you'll find out."
That was the big question. What was the toady guy's game? And how
did having Sam on a leash help him? Sam was beginning to think the
scraggly was just another checker in the game the little guy was
playing.
It was part of some bigger scam, that was obvious. Given the cast,
it wasn't legal either. A racket? A big score? Since the little guy
thought the police were on to him it wouldn't be blackmail unless the
pigeon had tipped off the cops.
Sam thought about it until his head hurt. Then he cursed himself.
The guy was devious all right, but there was no evidence he was a
mastermind. He'd left clues strewn all across the landscape. Sam was
thinking too hard. The answer was simple; he just didn't have the pieces
to put it together. He needed to be on the street.
"You think I'm handing out free samples?" the brassy
snapped when she saw Sam at the door.
"I realized we got side-tracked yesterday," Sam said. "I wonder if
you can tell me anything more about the next door."
She was s snoop at heart. She watched the front of the building.
She didn't have anything more about the blonde, but she had noticed that
when she came it was always in a Ball taxi, always early and always
dressed like she was going out.
She must have sat in the apartment for an hour and then gone out
to let Sam follow her. Sam picked the lead out of her story.
It wouldn't be fair to call the Ball dispatcher ugly. She had
clear, discerning eyes and a nice mouth. Even her nose wasn't all that
thick. It was the way her pomaded hair was pulled severely straight back
and the stubble on her chin that might have turned away the less kind.
Sam granted her the doubt because the broad was helpful. She
listened to his description and then pawed through some dispatches.
She grunted each time she found another.
"Three straight days. Picked her up at the Bayfront Arms," she
said. "That all you wanted?"
Sam looked at her. He couldn't. With some relief he discerned that
she wasn't interested. She'd rather be chompin' a stogie and be one of
the boys. He gave her a friendly grin.
"Anybody around that drove her?" he asked.
"Same cab every day," she said, "Number 12. You want me to call
her in?"
Sam's luck had changed. Number 12 was piloted by a sleek
named Giselle. Then his luck changed back. She looked Sam up and down
and grabbed an armful of attitude.
"You some kind of cop?" she asked him.
"Private," Sam said. "And this is a personal beef about a client
that set me up and stiffed me."
He gained about a half a point with her for being stiffed. She
knew that one. Sam got in the back.
"Put down the flag and we'll talk on the meter," Sam said,
dropping a $20 into the front seat.
He could feel the bill call to him as it fluttered to the
upholstery. It was a chunk of change given his present finances. But it
seemed to light up Giselle's eyes. She didn't drop the flag. She went
off-duty instead.
"I don't know what you think I've got, but I'll talk plenty for
twenty," she said as she moved the cab behind the taxi garage.
Sam ticked off on his fingers, "Pick up at the Bayfront- drop at
the Lewellan, three days, like clockwork. Did she talk on the way?"
"She bitched a lot about men," Giselle said, "Smart girl."
"That they all had dicks and liked to use them?" Sam came back.
"Or was there something more specific."
"She always got the losers," Giselle smiled, "I think she took the
part about their dicks for granted. She'd been around. I don't think
getting fucked over was what was bothering her."
"Now you're getting interesting," Sam said, "She act like someone
had her on a string?"
"You know it," Giselle said, "Say, what's this about?"
"She had a dead boyfriend and I think the one she was going to see
was his partner," Sam said. "I'm trying to figure out the rest myself."
"Then I ain't going to be much help," Giselle said, "I couldn't
figure her. She wasn't scared, but there was something. She had
something weighing on her. Like you know you can testify okay, but then
you'll have to worry about the bullet chasing you."
That fit perfect. Sleazy had something on her. He was giving her
things she could handle, but she was worried about later. She obviously
had good reason to be scared of the toady little guy.
"We're talking about the same gal," Sam agreed. "But she didn't
spill anything like a name or a detail, did she?"
Giselle shook her head.
"Figures," Sam said, "I thought she'd seen too much of the hard
life to be a chatterbox."
"She see enough of life to make you desperate for more?" Giselle
asked.
"What's this?" Sam sensed a barb in the cabby's tone.
"'Cause she had a message when you tried to find her again."
Giselle said.
"Why didn't you say so?" Sam asked.
"'Cause it wasn't square and she only tipped me five to do it,"
Giselle said. "I got four times as much loyalty to you."
At least his lunch money for the next two weeks had gone for a
good cause. But Sam didn't think money was Giselle's real motive. They
both had as much as said this was in trouble. Sam figured Giselle
wanted to help her out, woman to woman.
"And what was her gag?" Sam asked.
"I wasn't supposed to connect her to the Bayfront- and I didn't
you came at me with that one- I was supposed to say I picked her up
from the flop house on Sixth." Giselle told Sam.
The case was becoming very interesting- or twisted. It was all how
you looked at it. Beverly had been on her way to fuck Sam when she gave
Giselle those instructions. Sam wondered how different it would have
been if he'd gone along willingly.
Then Sam noticed the way Giselle was looking at him. He knew
that look.
"You know, you ain't come near to talking up $20's worth," Giselle
said. "Now I don't mean I'm working off the money, you see- it ain't
like that with me- but I was thinkin' we could be a little personal for
a while until your meter runs out."
It was as interesting a proposition as Sam had ever heard. Giselle
was hard, but not hard on the eyes. Then something clicked.
"Got a good recommendation from your fare?" Sam asked.
"Let's say she had a hunch and I'm having the same one," Giselle
said. "What about it?"
Sam just shook his head. Maybe it was making up for lost time, but
it seemed like more mockery to Sam. It was like the women were jeering
him with the reminder of what he had been missing. In either case, he
had to admit it was better than still missing it.
Giselle had seen her share of life too. She wasn't sentimental
about what she wanted and how she wanted it. She tossed her hat on the
seat beside her and got in the back. She went straight for Sam's crotch.
She edged him into the corner of her cab and pantsed him like a
pro. Sam was struggling out of his coat and she was face down in his
crotch his cock. He didn't need the help. He figured she was
trying to set the tone.
"You don't care if you stare into my baby browns, do you?" she
looked up from his cock to ask.
"You're doing fine so far. Why don't you keep the lead," Sam
told her.
It might not have been like that with her, but it wasn't because
she didn't know what to do. She Sam's cock some more as she
opened her pants and pulled them down over her ass. She came up undoing
the buttons on her shirt.
"You amuse yourself with these," she said pulling open her
and then turning around to plop her naked butt down around his cock.
"I'll amuse myself with this."
She was interestingly efficient with his cock rubbing against her
crack. There was no cute little game of teasing Sam. Whatever
anticipation she built in him was secondary to her goal of arousing
herself.
Sam did what he could to help by fondling her breasts. She hadn't
taken off her bra, but it was thin enough that Sam's stroking passed
through it as if it hadn't been there. Her nipples perked up and pressed
back with the same lack of restriction.
Giselle was efficient in every point. From them being naked only
from waist to mid-thigh to her masturbation with his cock, she was aimed
at getting them together quickly. She achieved her goal in a couple of
minutes and then lifted up to come down over Sam's cock.
She may have amputated the foreplay, but she left the rest intact.
Sam slid up into a nice, comfortable as she sat down. True to his
word, Sam sat back and let her use his cock as she wished.
She used it with a flair. In the midst of good bread and butter
grinding, Giselle sprinkled impish lifts of her hips. Sam was tempted
to grab her hips and take over several times before Giselle was caught
in her own trap and gripped the back of the front seat to pump her hips
up and down on Sam's cock.
It was still a surgical fuck, but now she was cutting right into
the heart of it. Sam knew the urgency was all her own, but it played
perfectly along with his own. She was slapping her butt down on him
hard, as if that would help her to bounce up more quickly to drop
down on his cock again.
Sam knew he needed more. He hoped Giselle's frantic breathing
meant she needed the same. He gave up his resolve to let her do the work
and lifted his hips to help throw her back in the air as she slapped
down on his legs. They became like both combatants and accomplices as
they struggled for their common goal.
Gisele reached her goal first, trembling on Sam's lap as he
continued to try and throw her off. It wasn't enough. Sam struggled
under her weight to move forward and add his hands to the back of the
cab's front seat. He heaved against her rear.
It was an illusion that his cock was moving inside her, but the
illusion was all Sam needed. His attempt at the active part satisfied
whatever held him back and Sam joined Giselle in loud and joyous climax.
He flopped back onto the seat with her still pinned in his lap.
Giselle leaned back against him.
"Now that was a tip!" she breathed. "A could use a tip like
that once a day."
And a needed to be drained every day, Sam thought to himself.
It was amazing how much faster his mind worked when he wasn't congested
with his pent up needs. He was already unraveling toad-face's plan.
All things being equal and Sam acting normal, he would be in the
soup. He'd screwed them over by being good Sam. He was supposed to
fuck Beverly willingly at the flop house. Then he'd go back and be
picked up when he was looking for her.
He'd narrowly avoided that collar. But he wasn't home free. They
had gone through with it. The charge still loomed.
Staci punched a in his theory.
"If you were supposed to walk into a trap, why haven't they turned
you in yet?" she asked.
She had a point. Beverly was involved up to her neck making the
accusation. There was no reason for her to back off now. She couldn't
keep herself out of it. Surely toad-man could devise a way for her to
identify Sam and have him hauled in.
"Then what is the deal?" Sam asked, the color rising up his neck.
"They want a handle on you," Staci said. "They feel they need to
control you for some reason."
"For some reason," Sam snorted. "That's really helpful."
"I could ask Baker for more about Twyler," Staci snapped.
That was enough. That was just enough. Sam didn't even hate her
anymore. He was tired of the bickering, tired of her being touchy. He
no longer wanted to have the same argument over and over.
"Why don't you have Baker over and not ask him anything?" Sam
said. "You're a big girl. You don't need a reason to get laid. Why don't
you just call him up and tell him you want him?"
His words stabbed Staci like a dagger of cold. It was the same
dagger she stuck in Sam when she threatened to quit.
She had only been emotionally ready to quit. In the strange way a
mind works, she would still come in every day and sit at her desk and do
her work after that resignation. She hadn't considered actual, physical
quitting. Her outburst was only indicative of her emotional need to pull
back from Sam.
Now he was casting her off. If she had not been involved, she
would have seen that her withholding had been accepted by Sam. He was no
longer hopeful that his 'please' would overcome her 'no'. But in the
middle of the emotional storm, Staci saw Sam as cutting her adrift.
Staci picked up the anger Sam had discarded. They had come to an
understanding, but it must have been too hard for Sam to maintain. He
wasn't ready for a woman as strong as himself. He was a worm.
"Well, if it isn't the drunk," Catalano greeted Sam as he came
into the squad room. "Take a wrong turn looking for a bar? Or are you
here to turn yourself in?"
"We missed you at the AA meeting and I wanted to see if you fell
off the wagon," Sam retorted.
Catalano scowled. Sam wondered if he had hit a nerve.
Staci had the right idea before she went psycho on him. Baker
might be able to fill in some gaps. And it wouldn't be unethical to tell
Sam about some dead guy's record. Sam needed to know what Twyler was up
to.
"You look fit," Baker said.
"I haven't had a drink since I was hauled in," Sam answered the
thing Baker had not said.
"It was too much guilt over too little," Baker said. "That Twyler
guy deserved worse."
"Conveniently, that's what I came to ask you," Sam said, "What was
Twyler into? He was a bail jumper to me. What was he to you guys?"
"He was a small time hood. Armed robbery, extortion, assault,"
Baker said. "A career criminal with no imagination."
"Could he be muscle in something bigger?" Sam asked.
"That would fit, but there's nothing in his record," Baker said,
"I get the feeling he was unreliable. A lot of drunk beefs in there
too."
Was Twyler rum brave when he went for his gun? Sam put the
question out of his mind. That didn't matter any more. He had to keep
his mind on the case at hand.
When he got back to the office, Staci was tit-deep in newspapers.
"You said they'd been planning something for a long time," Staci
explained. "I decided to look it up."
There was a small pile on the pull-out of her desk.
"That the leads?" Sam asked.
"Well, the 3rd National was hit the day before you... uh, found
Twyler," Staci said. "That was the big news."
"Yeah, I remember thinking about how much more the reward would be
for those yo-yos than some bail skipper," Sam said.
"But wasn't that a lone gunman?" Sam asked.
"And one to drive the car?" Staci asked.
"What does it say?" Sam asked.
"...seen escaping the scene in a stolen Ford," Staci read, "It
doesn't say."
"You'd bet they'd mention an accomplice if there was one," Sam
said.
He went back into his office to think. Staci was in one of her
stable moods. He got away from her before that changed.
Whatever Twyler was mixed up in still didn't help. Sam's immediate
concern was Beverly and toad-man. He had to chase them out of the
woodwork to have a fighting chance to beat the rap.
He had the lead. He didn't know if it was still viable and he was
certain it was a trap, but he was supposed to chase her back to the
Sixth street hotel where he had been bushwhacked. He hadn't found a back
way in. He'd have to go in the front door and hope to figure it out when
they sprung the trap on him.
Sam was busy calculating all the angles. He wasn't thinking about
what he was doing when he pulled open his drawer and stuck his hand in.
His fingers touched steel and he jerked them back. He was out of his
chair as if he had discovered a poisonous snake coiled in the drawer.
He looked down at his pistol.
However hardened around the edges, it was evident that his wound
hadn't healed. Sam cursed himself for a sucker and pushed the drawer
closed. He should- but he couldn't bring himself to take the gun along.
"Now where are you going?" Staci asked as he reached the door.
She should at least know where to sent the meatwagon. He told her
the cabby's tip. He didn't tell her the cabbie was a woman.
"It's a trap, Sam," Staci said.
"I think the same thing, but it's something," Sam was resigned,
"We haven't had any luck smoking them out any other way."
"They'll kill you," Staci said.
Sam wondered at her concern. She'd been acting like she wanted him
dead. He'd never understand women.
"If they wanted that, they could have killed me before," Sam
pointed out. "I think there's more to this and I don't think we'll
figure it out on our own."
She was Staci. She wasn't Staci. She was concerned. She hated him.
Sam tried to put his confusion aside. He needed his wits clear to meet
whatever challenge the toad-man had for him.
"You got a broad named Beverly in 207?" Sam asked the desk man.
He stared as if Sam was speaking Latvian.
"There anybody in 207?" Sam asked.
He got the same stare.
"Can I rent 207?" Sam asked.
"No, it's occupied," the finally spoke.
"Thanks for your help," Sam said loudly to watch the cringe.
Sam had no plan. He didn't have to be quiet up the squeaking
stairs. It was just as well they knew he was coming. He took a deep
breath and tried the door of 207. It wasn't locked. He walked in.
"It's only been an age, or did you stumble on us by accident,"
toadie said from the wall beside the door.
He had Sam covered with a black automatic. Beverly was laying on
the bed, eyes wide as saucers. At least he'd know, Sam thought.
"Now put your hands on your head and no funny business," the
ordered and then added, "Hat on the bed first."
A hat on the bed wasn't going to change Sam's luck. He tossed it
carefully and put his hands on his hair. The little came up from
behind and patted Sam down. He made a noise of disgust and then went
over Sam again, taking more care around his ankles and in his crotch.
"Tell me," he demanded, "Tell me where it is or I'll shoot you now."
"Where what is?" Sam asked.
"Your gun. You aren't stupid enough to walk in here without a
gun," the was almost foaming.
"You have no idea how stupid I am," Sam countered. "I'm so stupid
I let killing a scum like Twyler make me go soft."
"Sure," he cut Sam off. "I know better. Now tell me or we'll do
another kind of search."
"It's in my drawer at the office. You want to come back with me
and get it?" Sam got the words out just before the world went black.
"You imbecile! You stupid moron!" the was ranting as Sam came
back into the world.
He was still on the floor and he was naked. The little was
kicking his clothes in a rage.
"How do you walk into such an obvious trap unarmed! I should shoot
you for stupidity!" he was foaming at the mouth.
At least little white specks of spittle were forming at the
corners as he raved in his frustration. Sam tried to put aside the
pounding in his head to think. This was the frame. The other was a set-
up. That was why they didn't want to finger him.
Someone was supposed to die and Sam was taking the rap. He figured
the corpse was going to be Beverly. That would make the rape another
nail in the frame. He raped her and then he'd killed her. He just
couldn't figure why.
The was raving about something else now. He was plotting out
loud in an argument with himself.
"We'll have to settle for fingerprints," he was saying and then
contradicting himself, "No, no, not with this gun. (pause) Yes, yes, you
shot the teller. It was all you and Twyler."
Sam guessed Staci had been on the mark. Too bad about her. He
wondered what she'd do after he was dead.
His reverie was interrupted when the door splintered and the cops
came in.
"We've heard enough! Drop it!" Baker commanded.
"You make a move and I'll kill him," toadie threatened.
"Go ahead," Baker said, "No loss to me. Then I'll shoot you in the
throat and listen to you gurgle as you drown in your own blood."
"You're bluffing!" he said desperately.
"Call it. It's your play," Baker said.
It all seemed strangely distant to Sam. There were only a
few seconds pause, but Sam had so many thoughts. It was a question of
suicide. Toad could take Sam with him to hell if he was ready to
die. That was his only option.
He wanted to live. The automatic spun down to hang by its trigger
guard and he flicked it away. His hands went up automatically.
"His name was Benny Morton, but they called him Brains," Baker
said as Sam sat in the hard chair in the interrogation room. "He'd never
been known to be a part of the actual job."
"So this was all about the heist at 3rd National?" Sam asked.
Baker nodded.
"The problem with bank jobs, Brains always said, was getting
away," Baker confirmed. "He had a way around that. He didn't trust
Twyler in the bank, but he did use him as a mule. Tossed the bag in
Twyler's car as he drove by in case he was stopped. Twyler was to stash
it in the insurance office until they felt safe. Then it gets muddy."
"Muddy?" Sam asked, "Like the rest makes sense?"
"We got this from Twyler's girl, you know, your girlfriend," Baker
teased Sam. "I think she's trying to cover her part. She says Twyler was
retrieving the money when you shot him. I think he was planning a double
cross and you stopped him. When Morton found out, he snatched Beverly
and began to work out a plan to frame you. After all, you'd screwed up
his perfect plan."
"Okay, the rape was to establish a connection," Sam took over,
"And I figure Beverly was going to be dead, but where's the money?"
"A lot of money is never recovered. Morton figured we'd sweat you
for the location, but you wouldn't give. He figured that would take the
heat off him," Baker said. "We even found some bill wrappers at the
insurance office after an anonymous tip."
"How does that tie me in?" Sam asked.
"You shot Twyler over the money and took it, then his turned
on you and you killed her," Baker said, "That was the way it was
supposed to play. Morton thought we'd all be over looking for the money
on the other side of town while he iced the broad with your gun."
Sam let that sink in.
"Only Brains was slipping. There weren't any money wrappers at the
scene when Twyler was shot. We got photos. And even Catalano couldn't
figure how 6-foot 1 of Sam Hill was only 5-foot 7 when he robbed the
bank," Baker grinned. "Of course that other tip about Sixth street
didn't hurt."
At least Staci wasn't lost in a maudlin haze, Sam sighed. Her call
showed she, at least, didn't want him dead. Maybe there was hope for
their association after all.
"Thwack!" The shoe leather fell on the ample white butt that was
turned up in the air. The size 11 left quite a tread mark on the pale
flesh.
"And this is for the crack about ethics," Sam said as he brought
his shoe down again.
"I've changed my mind! You're a beast!" Staci howled. "Stop it!"
"Then you're in big trouble," Sam gloated, "Because there's a lot
more grievances in this shoe."
Baker snickered from his seat on the other side of the sofa.
Sam spanked the howling woman a dozen more times before he threw
the shoe aside and rubbed his hand over the bright heat of Staci's
rear.
The moments after Sam had left the office had been torture for
Staci. In her heart she knew her anger was directed at Sam's drinking,
but she was unwilling to forget the things that had been said in the
intervening days. That was ended when she saw Sam's pistol in his desk.
She knew what he was doing. She knew what she had to do. She knew her
pride was not as important as Sam. She knew her temper was not worth
Sam's love.
Sam had made his own admissions. He had allowed her to negotiate
their settlement. He had agreed to Baker as a third party witness for
her safety. He wasn't sure if Staci was expanding her sexual horizons or
giving Baker a reward for his prompt response to her call for help.
That safety had gone out the window when Sam trussed her on the
sofa. Staci was in her nude glory at the mercy of these two men. Her
butt burned from the spanking and Baker was stroking his cock rather
than rushing to her aid. Staci was already cumming from the fear of what
they would do to her.
Moreover, she had introduced Baker to her deepest secret. She was
awash in delightful shame at her exposure. And she was waiting helpless
to see what Sam would do and how Baker might react.
"You don't have to hold your own," Sam joked with Baker, "There's
more than one end to this woman. Come over and make her do what you
want."
Another climax-like shiver blew through Staci at the thought. She
had exposed herself to two in hopes of safety from the one.
Sam pushed her foot out of the way with his knee and then used his
other knee to spread Staci's legs. She tottered and nearly fell headlong
over the arm of the sofa. He steadied her so she rested on her
on the arm and wiped his cock up and down her crack.
Sam looked up at Baker, still sitting in the chair. His cock was
covered by his hand where it jutted from his trousers.
"Come on. I've got a week's worth of getting even ahead of me,"
Sam said. "You're going to suffocate in those clothes. Get 'em off and
get over here and get some."
Sam didn't wait for Baker. He pushed his cock into Staci and
bumped tight against her butt. Her skin still felt warm against his
belly. It was nice to be home again.
"That feel good up against your butt?" Sam asked Staci.
"It still hurts, Sam. You could be nice to me," Staci replied.
"You wouldn't like nice," Sam told her. "You're happier this way."
For Baker's benefit Sam was being both kinder and less
compassionate at the same time. He wanted Baker to know Staci's story.
That was humiliating. And he was backing off on his usual fierceness in
denigrating her until Baker understood her psyche better.
Sam was overestimating Baker's concern. Baker was happy with
simple answers. He didn't have to pick it apart. Staci was hot. She
liked him enough to fuck him. That was enough for Baker.
Baker came up to Staci with his hard-on leading him. Her mouth
opened in anticipation of Baker jamming his cock in her face. He missed
her mouth and Staci was forced to turn her head out of the way.
"You're breaking my neck!" she complained.
"Then move your head," Baker suggested as he slipped his cock
between the mounds of tit pressed together by the arm of the sofa.
Sam could feel her reaction around his cock. Staci was jolted by
the way the two trapped her between them. Her hands were tied, her
head craned into an uncomfortable position and she was being sexually
used by two men; she was vibrating with excitement.
"You really ought to get some of this end before you're done," Sam
said to Baker as he saw the cop begin to breathe hard and attack Staci's
breasts.
"You know I don't mind fucking her tits," Baker said, "But that
might be nice too."
Staci let her head drop down to rest as Baker stepped away. She
had a few seconds rest before Sam lifted her by the hair and gave her
his cock to suck on.
Sam was good with the hair thing. He had a good handful and Staci
let him hold her head up by the hair and stayed relaxed. Sam would make
her gag eventually, but for the moment she could just lie unmoving and
let the do the work.
"God damn!" Barker cursed quietly. "I'd never have dreamed this in
a million years."
"We a little too kinky for you, Baker?" Sam asked.
"Shit no, I worked vice for years," Baker snorted, "I would have
never believed I'd be balls deep in a broad like Staci here."
Sam was mindful where his cock was. He dumped a couple of thoughts
in favor of a more political reply.
"It just goes to show even nice are hot where it counts,"
Sam said.
When the two were racing to ecstasy, Staci didn't have time to
consider her position. She was lost in squealing heaven, trapped
between two cocks determined to fill her with cum. She was helpless.
She was being double used. She couldn't have been cumming harder.
Baker was sitting in the chair wearing his shoes, socks and hat
and nothing else. He had just put the hat on because he was feeling
official.
"I'd say you're safe, m'am," he said to Staci. "You're certainly
in no position to yourself."
Staci looked up at the grinning cop. She knew the he would
take away with him. The mascara Sam had her apply thickly was leaking
down her cheeks from the tears Sam had forced out of her eyes as he
rammed his cock in her throat. Her lipstick went from her nose to chin.
She was the essence of fucked-out big-titted bimbo.
Her was still on fire. She felt a loss that her other partner
was leaving, but the rejection was making her spine tingle. She was a
slut and they knew it. Her nipples were so hard they hurt.
"If I need any more help, I'll call Catalano," Sam smiled.
The thought made Staci's stomach turn, but her whore was just
excited. She was in the grip of more than the belt looped around her
wrists. She was still throbbing with the excitement of being in the
middle of the three-way sandwich. She felt so dirty she couldn't stop
cumming.
"Now I've got one more treat for you," Sam told her as he sat her
down and pulled her head down to rest in his lap. "I just want to show
you there's no hard feelings."
Sam couldn't want her to suck his dick. She was facing the wrong
way in his lap and she didn't have her hands to help her. She waited
as Sam reached down and examined her tit like he had never seen anything
like it before.
After a bit of that, Sam reached under them and lifted his cock to
rub against her cheek. Stacie could feel it get harder as it poked into
the side of her face.
"I think it's time to get you ready for the final thank-you," Sam
said.
"What are you talking about?" Staci asked quietly.
"It's great to have you back," Sam said. "I know it's all just
another episode in a long relationship of complex twists and turns, but
I am glad it resolved this time."
"Well, I did miss my Sam," Staci allowed.
Sam had set Staci up and then lifted her to her feet. He led her
over to the chair Baker had recently occupied and pushed her until she
was kneeling on the seat. He pushed her forward until her chest hit the
back of the chair.
"Sam. What are you thinking?" Staci was suspicious.
"I just want to welcome you back with your favorite thing in the
world," Sam said.
"If you mean you're going to ram it up my ass, that's not my
favorite. I hate that, Sam," Staci protested.
"Just think of Baker still in that chair and where his face would
be," Sam suggested as he slipped a greased finger into her anus. "That
should comfort you."
"You are what you fuck, Sam," Staci tried a gambit. "If you stick
your dick in an asshole you are an asshole."
"You know you want it," Sam teased and then he lunged.
"You ASSHOLE!" Staci yelped.
###