Keywords: M/F- light bond and voy
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: The Jeepers Peepers Affair- Sam Hill I
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.
The Jeepers Peepers Affair
A Sam Hill Mystery
She was about as active as his third wife. Sam watched for
a while and then realized that was because she was dead.
Just fucking beautiful! he griped to himself. She wouldn't be
being unfaithful with anyone but the mortician now. Another $100 a
day down the tubes.
Sam tried to temper his disappointment with good thoughts
while he packed up on his rooftop perch. The rent was paid for
once. He had filled his gas tank on the expense account. He wasn't
hurting. He was flush, not plush, but at least breaking even.
Still, he had hoped to get a little ahead with this one. He had
dreams of breaking into the country-club set. He was going to hit
Chester with one day, the tank of gas and a roll of film- about
$132- and try to impress him with how quick he worked. He hoped
Mr. Chester would want more evidence to build a stronger case.
Click- Clickclick!
Damn. Now he had fucked up a roll of film. It was only
three shots, but clients didn't like incomplete rolls. They even
wanted the negatives of the ones that didn't come out, just to be
sure. Sam thought briefly about charging Chester for the roll anyway,
but that wasn't the way to an introduction or a recommendation to
the rest of Chester's well-heeled friends.
-----
He got a surprise when he reported to Mr. Chester. His
main concern had been getting the fuck away from a murder scene
and he hadn't given the case itself another thought.
"Dead? Are you sure?" Chester asked.
"Nobody's told you yet?" Sam was stunned.
The angles on this one went careening around Sam's skull.
He had a duty to report what he saw. If no one else had reported
it yet, he was venturing into obstructing justice. On the other hand,
he also had a right against self-incrimination if he could that
to include making yourself a suspect. And somewhere else, his
personal vision of himself as Humphrey Bogart was telling him that
he could crack this case. Only he knew and the killer knew. That
was a great tool to have.
"They called me to come identify a body," Chester said. "I
was still wondering if they couldn't be mistaken. I guess they're not."
He sat down heavily behind his desk. He slid the top
drawer open and reached inside.
Sam's musings had evaporated like so much smoke. But he
wasn't necessarily a suspect. Unless someone saw him on that roof.
Chester came out with a stack of hundreds. He off a
few and tapped them on his finger.
"We'll consider this a non-refundable retainer to keep you
ready to do some work for me," he said as he slid the bills across
the desk. "We can discuss your rates when we know what I have
for you to do."
Sam picked up the five bills and folded them slowly. Then
pushed them in his pants pocket and looked up at Chester.
"Did you kill her?" he asked.
"Lord, no," Chester chuckled. "I was already getting rid of
her. We have an ironclad pre-nup and factual evidence to back it
up. She was history."
"Sorry, had to ask," Sam said. "But I had to know how to
play this."
"But I'll be a suspect anyway, you know that, and I don't
know what I'll have to prove to remove that dubious label," Chester
said. "That's why I need to have you available. Now I want you to
meet someone."
Chester picked up the phone on his desk and pressed the
intercom. It buzzed and then it was picked up.
"Rose, Mr.Hill is here, come down, please," he said
Rose was a well-packed 5-foot 4 of motion. At least four
foot of coal-black hair swung around her voluptuous package of
nicely browned skin. She had muy mamacita pushed up in
tempting hills by the neckline of her dress. She had an extraordinarily
large ass for such a slender build, but it was shapely and inviting
despite looking out of place on this little woman.
"This is Rose Hernandes-y-Lopez, Mr. Hill. Rose, this is
Mr. Sam Hill. You'll be my chain of communication in case I'm
unavailable," Chester said.
"Call me Sam," Sam said, offering Rose his hand.
Chain of communication, his ass, Sam knew a bedwarmer
when he saw one. Rosita didn't dress that way to turn off. Sam
congratulated Chester on his taste as he took in the situation.
"Perhaps you could get Rose up to speed while I go and
attend to my own gristly duties," Chester invited.
He would like to get Rose up to a lot of things while the was gone, Sam thought. But then he remembered what had
happened to the last woman that cheated on Chester.
"My office is upstairs," Rose said, "Let's go up and you can
fill me in on what's going on."
He'd like to fill her up at the same time, Sam mused. She
was one hot dame, whether or not he had a real chance with her.
Her 'office' was bawdier than a bedroom. Smack in the
entrance was the couch. It demanded the attention of the whole
room. Sparse furnishings in whore surrounded it with a standard
desk at the far end. The desk had a computer on it and little else. It
was obvious where the focus of the room lay.
Sam also strongly suspected that the room was rigged for
video record as well. He didn't notice the cameras, but there were
hangings and accessories in all the right places to cover the room.
And the couch's position was too perfect not to have been planned.
"Sit down and make yourself comfortable," she said,
indicating the couch. "And tell me what's happening."
"Mrs. Chester is dead. She was going to meet her lover and
someone killed her. Mr. Chester knows he will be a suspect," Sam
recounted tersely.
"Do you think Ted did it?" she asked
"He said he didn't- had no reason to," Sam told her.
"And you believe him?" she asked
"I have no reason not to," Sam said. "And I don't think he
has a motive."
She seemed relieved by that somehow. She certainly
changed gears after their exchange. She was a lot softer now and
had somehow made her dress even more alluring than before.
"I think we'll be working closely on this," she said and
inched toward him. "Perhaps we should get to know each other a
little better."
Tornado sirens and firehouse bells had nothing on the
alarms going off in Sam's head as she approached. She was making
what she wanted obvious. Any shred of doubt was ripped away
when she dropped her hand into his crotch.
"I see you're well-armed," she said as she traced the outline
of his cock through his pants.
"They're pants," Sam said modestly.
"Well then, we'll just have to get a more accurate estimate,"
she said, turning his words into an excuse to open his pants and
reach inside.
"Nope. Still feels like a magnum," she smiled as she stroked
his cock through his underwear.
"What are we doing here?" Sam asked
"We're playing while the is away," Rose said, working
to free his cock from its restraints. "I think I like you and I'm sure
you've got what I need right now."
Sam only felt like the lucky millionth shopper for a moment
before Rose had his dick out and was sliding to the floor in front of
him. When she his cock into her mouth, he turned all his
alarms off. He knew they were marginally safe and it felt like a
blow-job from Rose would be worth any trouble he could get into.
While her head moved up and down his cock, Rose
slipped her dress off one shoulder and then the other. She pulled it
down to free her and then gave her complete attention to
blowing him again.
When he was hard and swollen, she sat up on her heels and
held up her for him. They overflowed her small hands like two
dams preparing to burst.
"You like?" she asked rhetorically.
She let them settle on her chest in a series of bounces as she
struggled to pull the dress down to her hips. Fortunately there were
snaps to open at that point, or the dress would have never made the
broad journey past her over-generous hips. She pulled along with the dress and was standing in front of Sam in and a garter belt.
Then she dropped down and went back to work. Her
mouthwork was no more marvelous than before, but Sam found it
sexier to be off by this naked Chicano. It was less like a
quick blow-job in an alley and more like a promise of fun and
games to come.
She was like a vacuum cleaner now and it was
making him horny as hell. He wanted to fuck something now. He
wanted to jam his cock somewhere and get off. Since it was their
first time together, Sam repressed the urge to grab her head and
fuck into her face.
"Did you get naked just to blow me?" Sam finally gasped
out.
"No, Sam, I just wanted you to really want it when you
fuck me," she lifted her head and replied.
"Well, I really want to fuck something now," Sam said.
Rose giggled and stood up between his knees. She pushed
him back on the wide, flat platform and crawled up over him. Her
rear end searched around until she had lodged his cock at the
entrance to her and she pushed the head inside.
"You think this will do?" she asked as she teased him with
the shallow penetration.
"So far it feels good, what's the rest like?" Sam quipped.
It seemed she moved in two directions at once as she
leaned toward him in a shower of black hair and pressed her hips
down on his cock at the same time. Her erect nipples brushed his
shirt as her settled over his cock. She bent down and thrust her
tongue into his mouth while her pelvis pressed down on his.
It was good all the way in. He wasn't at the deepest he
might reach, but he was deep enough to be happy. As her tongue
chased his, her hips rocked on his cock. She knew what she was
doing.
Sam slid his hands down the amazing arch from her tiny
waist out the broad swoop to her wide ass. It put his penetration
into perspective and he knew he could be another inch deeper
if he rolled her over.
"Let me get on top," he said into Rose's marauding tongue.
She helped him to roll over so they lay length-wise on the
couch with him between her legs. Her ass was marvelous as a
cushion for him to fuck into. Her rolled on her chest as he
jabbed her over and over on his way to a ball-emptying experience.
"Rosita, muy bonita conchita!" Sam enthused as he fucked
her hot cunt.
"Shut up and fuck me," Rose countered.
It didn't take much more for Sam to fill her up with cum.
Her heels beat encouragement on his ass as he pumped out his load
inside her and then she crossed her ankles to hold him inside her.
"I think we will enjoy working closely," she snickered.
"I've got no complaints so far," Sam admitted.
---
There was something hinkey going on. Hot little dames with
a rich guy on the line didn't fuck like him. It was part of some
plan, but Sam knew he'd have to play along a little longer before the
clues started emerging. Not that it would be torture to fuck Rose.
"You stop at a whorehouse on the way home?" Staci asked
as he walked in the office.
Busted. Staci was a good detective for a receptionist. She
had real big too. Sam knew to go as close to the truth as he
dared. He sometimes relied on her intuition to spot deception and he
knew better than to test it.
"Chester's 'assistant'," he said, rolling his eyes when he said,
'assistant'. "She fucked hell out of me like all the rich guy's mistresses
do."
Staci rolled her eyes right back. Good. She thought he was
trying to sound sincere instead of confessional. He had ducked her
radar with that one.
"Then I suppose you're too tired to come to my place for
dinner tonight," she said.
She was a lousy cook. Dinner was just an excuse for them
to go to her place and fuck. He generally kept up on her salary for
just that reason and he thought she knew it.
It meant he slept in the office when he didn't sleep with her,
but it was worth it. He had his choice of having an apartment of his
own or fucking Staci and he knew he had made the wise choice.
"Never turn down food. That's what my daddy told me,"
Sam said. "I'd be happy to join you for dinner."
"Nothing fancy," she said, "You know I'm saving up for that
breast reduction surgery."
She always threatened to drop her DD's down to a B-cup
when she wanted to torture him. She said he only wanted her tits,
not her, and said he'd be satisfied with the left-overs without her
being behind them.
That was not true. Her made him want to fuck something.
He thought it was convenient that she had a down below those
mammoth mammaries.
And none of it spoke to her value as an assistant. Sure, her
big made a good impression, but it was her smarts that made her
valuable. The sex was just urges between two healthy, horny adults
that each had what the other needed.
Sam was pretty sure she felt the same way about it. He was
a three-time loser at marriage and Staci had sat through the end of
the last two. He thought she had more sense than to get tied up
with him.
That was speaking figuratively, of course. Along with her
fixation on detectives, playing detective, reading about detectives
and fucking detectives came a healthy little kink about being put in
handcuffs. And when she was very naughty, Sam had to dig out
four sets and cuff her spread-eagle on the bed.
That night, neither of them was in the mood for props. Staci
was excited by the way the case was going and wanted to ride that
wave. Sam felt he had to perform extra well to remove all suspicions
she might still be harboring.
It was a complete success. For once Sam almost ignored
her and Staci had one of the best fucks Sam had ever thrown
her. She felt like she had to make it up to him sometime.
Sam was glad she was impressed. For himself, he had been
comparing pussy. He had come to the conclusion that it was all good.
As they lay there in gasping afterglow, Staci's curiosity
surfaced.
"Do you think Chester did it himself?" she asked.
"What do you know about this?" Sam asked.
"It's all over the television," Staci huffed. "I know who you
were watching. She turned up dead. Did her husband kill her in a
fit of jealous rage?"
"Not hardly," Sam revealed. "A guy doesn't hire someone to
take when he's going to go shoot his wife."
"You know more than you're telling me, come on, give," she
said, prodding him in the ribs.
He was going to bounce it off her anyway. Everything
except Rose's warm reception. She might have a hunch that he was
missing. And a good case always made her horny.
"She didn't move, so I zoomed in on her face and saw the
hole in her forehead," Sam said. "Then I got the hell out of there."
Staci was a skilled interrogator.
"Come on, details, asshole. What was she wearing? Signs of
a struggle? Was the weapon lying in plain sight?" Staci shot the
questions in rapid-fire order.
"She wasn't naked, but she wasn't wearing much. I don't
know, something appropriate to wait to get fucked in. I didn't notice
anything strange or it wouldn't have taken me so long to see she was
dead, so I don't think there were signs of a struggle. And I got out of
there before I looked for a gun. I didn't have a full view of the room
anyway," Sam searched his brain to reason out answers for her.
"Shot in the middle of the forehead, hmm?" Staci mused.
"Sounds like someone was tired of her conniving mind."
Sam thought Staci read too many supermarket check-out
magazines. She was shot in the head because that's where the gun
was aimed when it went off. There was nothing else you could read
into it.
"The only other thing I know is I was invited to dinner and
we haven't eaten," Sam said and rolled Staci toward the edge of the
bed.
She still didn't get out of bed. Instead she reached for the
phone and dialed.
"What do you want on your pizza?" she asked.
It wasn't what Sam wanted, but Staci rolled over when she
hung up the phone and loomed over him with her magnificent
laying on his chest.
"I wonder what we should do to pass the half-hour it will
take," Staci purred with a gleam in her eye.
He might not want pizza for supper, but Staci was making it
hard to protest. She was making it hard in general. Sam just couldn't
resist those great bags of fun she was offering him. He moved his
hands to the outside of her and dragged them over his chest.
"I think we should do housework, but I know you're going to
overrule me and have your way with me instead," he answered.
"Since you brought it up," Staci replied, seeing the way to
repay Sam for the great fuck, "I will ravish your helpless body."
Sam was about to say that it was Staci that got it up, but she
crushed her on his chest and covered his mouth with her own.
The deep-probing kiss was her cover as she slid her leg over his and
pulled herself on top of him. Sam just wrapped his arms around her
and let her be in charge.
At least he didn't kibitz too much until he had to. Staci was
taking great joy in letting his cock ride in the wet of her and
evading his every attempt to bury it inside her. She was feeding him
one swollen nipple and then the other, but Sam knew she could do
both. He let his hands slip down over the small of her back and
grabbed the firm mounds of her ass. Pinning her in place, he squirmed
his hips under her until he had fit the head of his cock to her slot.
"Now who's having whose way?" she asked as his cock
breached the entrance of her cunt.
She was still making penetration difficult and shallow, but at
least Sam was getting a taste. She let him flop around trying to push
deeper into her for a moment and then slid back onto his rod and
brought her mouth to his for another combative session of tongue
wrestling.
It was very good. Sam's hands were still on her ass and he
squeezed her butt as he screwed his cock around inside her. It was
very good, but Sam wanted more. And so did Staci.
She had planned all along to let him lie back and do the
fucking herself, but Sam had been too impatient to put his cock in her.
Now it was time to do what she had crawled on top of him to do.
She on his nose and then pushed herself up on her hands to
get the leverage to ram her ass down on his cock.
It was no fluke that her heavy swung vigorously inches
from Sam's face. That was part of his reward too. She knew how he
liked to watch them flop around when she moved and she knew he
wouldn't be able to resist playing with them as she fucked him.
He couldn't. It was merciful to stop them flying around and it
excited Sam to cup them in his hands and feel the weight still shift in
his palms as she drove her down on his cock with ever
increasing fury. When he could tell her bouncing hips had gone on
automatic, Sam lifted his head to suck hard on a nipple.
She was getting off. Sam knew the signs. He squeezed the
tit not in his mouth like kneading bread and caught the other nipple
between his teeth so he could play his tongue over the erect nub. It
drove her nuts and Sam liked the way she wiggled when she went
nuts.
"Oh Jesus! You know me so well!" Staci gasped as his teeth
closed just enough to send a jolt of pain through her breast. "Go
ahead. Bite them!"
Sam tried to jab back at her churning hips as she came to the
crest. His head dropped back to the pillow with the effort and he
grabbed both in his hands and squeezed.
"I'm there!" she shouted.
Sam could feel the spasms.
"I'm doing it!" she wailed.
She was indeed. Staci came quick when she rode his cock.
Sam could seldom keep up with her, but he didn't mind. It meant she
was more deliberate when she did get him off. And sometimes she
would again when he shot off. That made Sam feel like a real
sex god.
She slumped down onto him as the orgasm slid away and
they ground their sexes together in the same way they clung to each
other in a tight hug.
"Just do me this way," Staci invited as her hips worked up
and down on his fully sheathed cock.
Sam planted his feet and lifted his knees to get a little in-out
and they squirmed and writhed their way to his climax. It wasn't a
wham-bang launch. It was what Sam thought of as the romantic
orgasm: after a while it poured out into her instead of shooting. It
might lack fireworks, but it more than made up for it in the body-
warming afterglow as far as Sam was concerned.
They lay together with Sam's cock still soaking up the warm
comfortable feeling until the doorbell rang.
"That's the pizza," Staci announced, suddenly energized from
her sleepy cuddle. "Watch this."
Staci was full of gags. That was another reason they got
along so well. She had what Sam thought of as a masculine sense of
fun. She'd do a lot of things for a laugh.
The kid must have been 16 or 17 and no Romeo. Maybe he
got his share of peeks on the job, but you couldn't tell from the look
of confusion on his face when Staci opened the door nude.
"Pizza delivery?" Staci said for him.
"Uhh- yeah," the kid mumbled and held out the pizza.
He was staring at her tits. Who wouldn't. She took the box
with both hands and held it low so she wouldn't block his view.
"Anything else?" she asked after he had been staring a long
moment.
"Ahhh- that's $12.50," he mumbled again.
"Could you help me?" she asked, looking down at her left
breast. "My hands seem to be full."
The reached out like he was about to put his hand into a
snake cage and gingerly lifted her tit. He took the bills and then stood
there staring some more, still holding her tit up.
"If I could have my tit back, we'd like to eat this while it's
warm," she said and the startled pulled back so she could shut
the door.
They waited four beats until their laughter filled her
apartment.
-----
"I fucked up," Ted Chester said across the small table in the
featureless room. "I told them the truth."
"And they said you had motive and yada, yada, yada, they
locked you up," Sam finished for him. "What do they have for
evidence?"
"Seems she was shot with a gun registered to me," he said.
"Okay, tell me about that," Sam said.
"That's the frustrating part," Chester said, "I don't know what
they're talking about. And they won't tell me."
Here's the bullshit, Sam thought. Poor, innocent Mr. Chester,
up on a bum rap and they won't tell him why. Sam went into sly
mode.
"You mean you think someone bought a gun in your name?"
Sam asked, watching carefully for the sign he was lying.
"Heavens no, at least that hadn't occurred to me," Chester
said. "I don't know what gun they're talking about."
"You got a lot of guns?" Sam asked. "You a collector or
something?"
Now Sam saw Chester close down. Maybe he was being
straight before, because this was the look of incomplete truth.
"I've bought a few over the years, for this or that," Chester
said. "I don't know which one they're talking about."
"Did you tell them that?" Sam asked.
Chester got a hunted look. Then he did a good job acting like
he was in a bind and had to confide.
"You know how they work," Chester hissed. "It wouldn't be
that easy. I'd say I have a lot of guns and they still wouldn't tell me.
They'd start asking about them one at a time. And that wouldn't be
good."
Sam knew better than to ask him more about that. He'd only
lie anyway. If he wasn't lying already. He knew what Chester wanted.
He asked to make it official.
"So you'd like me to nose around and see what they've got
on you?" Sam asked.
"You needn't do that," he said. "My attorney will file a
motion for discovery and they'll have to tell him. What I want you to
do is keep working on the matter I hired you for. Find out who she
was with."
He said it like it would be easy. Shit. It was one thing to
follow the skirt and see who she attracted. It was entirely another to
buddy up to everyone she knew and get them to tell you they were
fucking her. Sam didn't think he would fit in the Chester's set.
"That's going to be tough now that murder's involved," Sam
alibied.
"That's why you get the big bucks," Chester smiled. "Rose
can show you where my late had her things. You might find
something there."
Ahh, yes, Rose. Sam had the definite feeling he was being
slickered. Another excuse for them to be alone together and her to
prime him for whatever use they had planned. It didn't have to be
pretty, he mused. It was a tough job. He'd just have to watch himself
in the clinches.
Rose was cordial, but not seductive when she let him in. She
knew why he was there. Sam was suspicious, but she shrugged it off
with the explanation that Chester's attorney had told her. They each
had their things to do, she said.
The late Mrs. Chester was not a clean freak. There was a
comfortable disarray of her things for Sam to paw through. She
wasn't very discreet either. He found a bumper crop of dates and
times scrawled on various paper objects. She was an active woman.
But there was nothing that put a name with these assignations.
It was like being able to see her have sex from the waist down. He
knew when she was getting it, but not who was giving it to her.
He guessed it wasn't supposed to be easy. He wouldn't have
believed it if he had found a under her pillow with the caption:
'my hot lover'. His best bet was to find a diary. He didn't.
"So how's it going?" came Rose's voice as he was laying on
the floor examining the underside of the drawers.
Sam looked up and she was standing right over him. He was
examining the underside of her drawers.
"Looking up," Sam said.
"I see you are," she smiled, "But have you found anything."
"Not yet, and unless there's some secret panels, I don't know
if I will," Sam said. "Did she have any other places she might hide
things- the garage, a shed or something?"
Rose laughed musically. Her mirth shook her all the way
down and the motion made her skirt move to and fro to give Sam a
full view of her small black undies.
"She wouldn't go anywhere dirty," Rose chuckled. "If it's not
here, it's in her locker at the country club or something like that."
Sam was loathe to give up his view, but he gathered
himself and got to his feet. Rose followed him all the way up until she
was looking up into his eyes.
"I know what you're thinking," she said.
That was more than Sam knew. But her intention was pretty
transparent by this point.
"Tell me and I'll tell you if you're warm," Sam invited.
"You're thinking back to the other day and then you're
looking at the bed there," she said slyly, "You want to fuck me on it."
He had thrown stuff all over the bed. It didn't look that
inviting. That didn't mean his cock wasn't stirring in his pants. She did
look inviting. Then it was more than an invitation when she put her
hand on his crotch.
"But we really have much too much to do right now for that,"
she said, stroking him anyway. "I'd have to take a shower and get
dressed all over again. I'm afraid there's just not enough time."
Then why was she getting him so hard? It was a damn dirty
trick to Sam's mind. All pumped up and nowhere to cum? He was
getting a little pissed when Rose told him the punch line.
She pulled the zipper down and pulled his cock out. She
held it and smiled at Sam.
"But we can't leave you like this, can we?" she purred, "I
guess I'll have to take care of you."
She dropped to her knees like a pro, sliding his cock into her
mouth even as she settled to her knees in front of him. Sam's anger
did a u-turn and he was instantly pleased with her compromise.
It wasn't the stylish blow job she had given him before. She
gripped the base of his cock with a thumb and finger and up
and down with a single purpose. That was good enough for Sam. He
didn't mind a quick suck off in the middle of the day.
The only variance was her tickling fingers under his balls as
he began to huff and puff with her insistent sucking. Then she pulled
on his cock and guided him into fucking her mouth while she held her
head still and let him thrust.
It was a Big Bang. The first shot out with a jolt that
made Sam jerk forward. The next came right on its heels and Sam
could feel his balls jump in his sac. Rose's hand flew up and down his
stalk as she hard on his knob when the force of his climax
froze Sam in place. She urged more jets of into the vacuum of
her mouth and then took him down deep when the pyrotechnics
subsided.
Her tongue made him dance as she worried his slumping
cock inside her mouth. It was too much sensation too soon, but Rose
showed no mercy. By the time he was able to grab her head with
the intent of pulling her away, it was okay. He held her head as she
sucked the rest of him into her mouth and held all of his quickly
deflating cock inside the warmth of her mouth.
He no longer wanted to pull her away. It was a great finish.
She the flaccid meat like she was trying to suck crabmeat
out of the claw and Sam felt a shiver of contentment run through him.
He pulled his cock out of her mouth wet, but clean and Rose
packed it away in his pants.
"I hope you're not too mad at me," Rose quipped.
"No, that will do," Sam said, "I have the feeling this isn't the
last chance we'll ever have."
At least he let her know he had suspicions. He also had one
satisfied dick. It was going to be hard to get back to work.
The club yielded nothing beyond a few questioning stares
when he exited the women's locker room. Sam could have sworn a
couple of them were coming on to him. Slumming, he guessed.
------
"If it was me, I'd keep stuff with stuff," Staci declared.
"And what the hell does that mean?" Sam groaned.
Staci liked to show off and his resistance usually brought out
the best of her theories. She liked to prod him with things he'd over-
looked.
"I'd keep clothes where I dressed and I'd keep the lurid
details of my affairs where I undressed," she said proudly.
"Then the cops got it," Sam said. "They've been all over the
little love nest."
"Well, that's what I'd do," Staci said.
It had been a couple days. Sam might be able to get in and
look around without too much flak. He didn't think he'd find anything
the cops missed, but they hadn't seemed too interested in the other
man. It was worth a shot. At $100 a day, he owed it to Chester to
give it a shot.
He got the keys to the apartment from Rose without sex and
drove over. There were no cops hanging around. That was good.
Sam still waited until dark to slip up the back stairs. No one was in
the hall. That was good.
He slipped inside the door smoothly and stood still to let his
eyes get accustomed to the low light. There was enough city light for
him to make out general shapes. He would use the flashlight only for
the close work.
Things were pretty cleared out by the couch where the body
had been. Sam went over it lightly but carefully. The bedroom
looked like it had never been used. He hit paydirt in the bathroom.
Jerald Vernon. He had heard it somewhere, but he couldn't
place it. The name was on a prescription in the medicine cabinet. It
was heart medicine. And there was more. Something told Sam that
the cabinet itself hadn't always been in the same place. A little prying
and the whole cabinet swung from the wall.
Behind it was treasure. There was a wad of Polaroids. Sam
stuffed them into his pockets and put the cabinet back. He was about
done anyway. He skimmed over the rest and got the hell out of there.
Now he had a name and some pictures. That should show
Chester he was worth his keep. He waited until he was back at the
office to look at his booty.
"Those aren't all the same woman," Staci said over his
shoulder and made him jump. "It's not even the same man."
"No, it's two different men, which explains why they aren't
all shot from the same angle," Sam said. "But this is the late Mrs.
Chester."
Sam had set aside a half dozen shots. There were the same
woman, the woman he had last seen dead in the apartment.
"So now it's lovers, not lover," Staci observed.
"The evidence is overwhelming. And they took turns. See,
the room is just the same in all of these," Sam said, showing her the
six he had selected.
"Too bad there's no faces," she sniffed.
Sam had noticed that too. It made him think of a future
hanging out in the steam room trying to match bodies. It wasn't an
appetizing thought.
"You ever want to do stuff like this, Sam?" Staci asked.
"Watch a guy fuck a and take pictures? That's my job,"
Sam replied.
"No," she said, pressing her on his back so he would
know she was getting horny, "Take naughty pictures of someone
you're having sex with."
Another kink. The hard centers of her erect nipples against
his back left him no other surmise. She was turned on by the thought
of being a sex model. He wondered if she wanted to be cuffed when
he took her picture.
"I'd be the perfect guy," Sam allowed. "I can process them
privately and wouldn't have to settle for this Polaroid crap."
She knew him well enough to know her point was well taken.
She didn't say any more.
-----
"Vernon?" Chester said with a laugh, "That can't get
it up. His medicine is there because he's my partner."
Sam felt his lead go up in a poof.
"And he's neither of these guys?" he asked, showing Chester
the pictures.
Chester went dark when he looked at the pictures. He
flipped though the pile three times before he answered.
"Son of a bitch," he said under his breath. "Rotten little son of
a bitch."
Sam prompted him with a look. Chester took a breath and
responded.
"Jerald's son, the other Mr. Vernon," he said, pointing to one
man, "The other guy I don't recognize."
"A shock?" Sam asked.
"No, not really," said Chester, somewhat recovered. "It
makes perfect sense. I wouldn't put anyone past her and Jerald II
has plenty of reasons to want to get back at me."
"Why?" Sam asked.
"He's a twerp," Chester spat, "And I have the audacity to
treat him like one. I've cramped his style countless times."
"Any more on the gun?" Sam asked.
"Yes, it's my wife's .32," Chester said and then caught
himself, "But you just make sure Jerald is the one she was seeing.
These pictures look like a fling, strictly short-time. I want to know
who was putting it to her regularly."
"Can you get me an excuse to be in your offices?" Sam
asked, "I think I need to look around and get a feel for what goes
on there."
"You want a cover story? Because you can go anywhere
you want. I do still have a voice in the company," Chester said.
"It's always easier when they don't know you're watching,"
Sam said.
"Then be a system analyst. They poke into everything and
insist everyone go about their business normally. That should be
perfect. I'll tell Miss Greene who you really are," he said.
Sam did a bit of poking into Chester's desk while he was
there. If something wasn't going to add up, Sam didn't want to be
caught on the bottom line.
He found nothing helpful about what Chester might be up to.
He did see why Chester thought Jerald II was a twerp. The kid hit
on everything that moved in the office. To their credit, the women
mostly ignored him.
He called Miss Greene into his office down the hall. She
might be forthcoming with some tid-bit that might help him. She
might know more than she was willing to admit to her boss. It
wasn't going to be a chore to talk with the pretty 20-something girl.
"You asked to see me?" she asked.
"Yes, I hope you can help me get a feel for the dynamic in
the office," he told her as smooth as he could. "I know who to talk
to as you can see."
That seemed to flatter the shit out of her. Sam was a bit
surprised by her reaction. Did all women have the same morbid
interest in snooping as Staci?
"Mr Chester sounded so mysterious over the phone," she
confided, "He made you sound like a secret agent inside the
company. Can you tell me what you're looking for?"
"I'm looking for information that might help get Mr. Chester
out of jail," Sam said. "The police seem satisfied with him as a
suspect and I'm trying to find another guy for them to play with."
Her face clouded over.
"Do you think someone here killed Mrs. Chester?" she
gasped.
Then the look became one of demonic glee. It was obvious
she was picturing Sam holding court in a conference room, going by
one by one and trapping the killer, ala a mystery novel.
"You're a detective?" she trilled.
She was overwhelming herself as Sam just sat there. Every
realization made her more agitated. She couldn't sit still in her seat.
Now it was his turn to be flattered. She was turned on by her own
imaginings.
"Am I going to be your Friday?" she said with childish
excitement. "Are you going to give me assignments and all of that?"
"I do think it would be easier for you to ask some of the
questions I have," Sam agreed, carefully choosing his words. "I am
a stranger and I need some pretty personal information."
He had her hooked now. She was leaning forward in her
chair as if he was already reeling her in. She might as well have
'groupie' stamped all over her.
"What is it you need to know?" she asked.
"To be blunt, I'm trying to find who Mrs. Chester was having
her affair with," Sam said. "I know Jerald II had sex with her, but
somehow I doubt that was a long-term thing."
"Jerald?" she stared in shock, "Are you sure?"
"I've got pictures," Sam said, reaching in his pocket.
She was up in an instant to walk around the desk and take a
look. She started to bend down and then giggled and plopped her
butt down on his lap.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, her face inches from his.
Sam withheld comment. He turned her back to the business
at hand.
"See," he said, pointing out the pictures Chester identified as
being of Jerald. and then showing her the rest. "Does the other look familiar?"
"It's no one from here," she said confidently. "It must be one
of Jerald's friends."
"Do you know his friends?" Sam asked.
She shook her head as she looked more closely at the
pictures. She was fascinated by the forbidden glimpse of the couples
coupled. At least that was what Sam though until she opened her
mouth.
"Can you imagine?" she mused, "a woman like Mrs. Chester
letting them take pictures of her like this?"
"She must have been mad at Mr. Chester to do something
like that." Sam prompted.
"I doubt that," she said without thinking first, "She would
have screwed a guy on a desk in the outer office if a guy asked her."
She blushed after her indiscreet remark, knowing Sam
would now make her explain. He had been right. Miss Greene knew
more than she had revealed to Chester.
She tried to wriggle out of the chair, but Sam wrapped his
arms around her and held her down. She was a very pleasant
package to hold. His grip was studiously non-sexual, but it still
revealed a great deal about the woman in his arms.
"So Mr. Chester didn't know she was a party girl?" Sam
asked.
It was going to come out. She knew it. She decided to spill
her guts to Sam.
"I think he thought she'd change when he gave her everything
she could want," she said. "Don't get me wrong, she was a smart
lady. I just don't think she could keep her pants on."
"Then one long-time lover is a long shot," Sam as much said
as asked.
"Who knows?" she said. "If he was exciting enough to keep
her interest. I don't think she had a lot of rules about stuff like that."
Another dead end. It didn't have to be someone from the
company. Now it didn't have to be any one man. It seemed as if
every time Sam eliminated a suspect, the number of remaining
suspects increased rather than declined.
Sam relaxed his grip on her. Instead of bolting, she settled
back into his lap. She turned to him sensuously and Sam felt the
familiar stirring in his slacks.
"It's just like the stories, isn't it?" she sighed. "You crawl
inside my head and I can't help but be turned on by your masterful
manipulations. Then I turn to putty in your hands."
Sam wondered if Chester had told her to fuck him or if she
was really that far gone on detective novels. If it was an act, she was
a great actress. She had been licking her lips literally and figuratively
since she found out he was an investigator.
That was the answer Sam really wanted. If this was girlish
enthusiasm, he'd like to take a rain-check. If it was part of Chester's
plan, he didn't want to alert them by turning her down. He wanted
to seem corruptible and easily led until he found out where they
were trying to lead him.
Oh, the cost of trying to unweave webs of deceit. Sam
wondered if he was going to have to spend the rest of this case
sleeping at the office. He couldn't very well go to Staci's too tired to
fuck her.
His long mental ramblings aside, Sam was turning to anything
but putty under her squirming rear. She had a tiny little butt as butts
go and she was zeroed in on the growing bulge in his pants.
"Aren't you going to kiss me and melt me into a puddle of
quiescent female flesh?" she asked with her lips a half an inch from
his own.
Quiescent female flesh? Sounded more like a romance novel
than a detective story. Did they write romance detective stories?
It didn't matter. Sam had to kiss her. He didn't rely on her
expectations there. Sam kissed her the way he felt- aggressive and
to the point.
He pulled her head down to his and held her there as his
tongue barged its way into her mouth and searched it thoroughly.
She did melt. At least all tension and resistance drained out of her as
his tongue took her mouth. She lay half-turned against him with all
her best parts laying on him.
Her were liquid weights forming to and pressing on
his chest. Her butt had relaxed and become a soft surrounding for
his hard cock. She was the definition of ready and unresisting as she
lay limp in his lap.
"And how does this detective treat the women mesmerized
by his masculine charm?" Sam asked.
"Oh, he's masterful," she sighed, "Very no nonsense and
efficient because he knows they'll just because he puts his dick
in them."
Sam knew that wasn't all there was to it. He better not
break the spell by being crude. She wanted to feel taken, but Sam
was pretty sure she didn't want to be turned over and fucked like a
dog. He did a pretty good job of getting up with her in his arms
without stumbling. Then he lay her on the desk.
Off came the underwear- good white cotton. And in
went Sam's cock. She looked up at him through half-closed eyes
and grinned sleepily as he slid it in slowly.
"Oh my goodness!" she murmured, "This is so exciting."
He was happy for her luck. He held her thighs up along his
body and thrust slowly into her. He might be a bit more jaded when
it came to opportunistic sex, but she did have a nice cunt. He might
not be turned on by the thought of fucking a secretary on a desk,
but that didn't make her any looser or less warm.
It didn't matter anymore if it was part of a plan or just her
real fantasy. Sam's cock had gotten a taste of poontang and now he
was a slave of the little head. He jammed into her more urgently.
"Yes!" she gasped, louder now, "Make me do it! Take your
pleasure with this helpless dame! Give her what she needs!"
Sam didn't care about her words. He only heard the urging
in the tones and fucked into her harder. Her chatter became mixed
with the wet sound of his cock plunging into her and the smack of
his thighs hitting her butt.
He was already shooting when her pleas became begging.
"Don't stop yet! Just a little more! Please!" she wailed.
Sam gathered his resolve and drove his spurting cock into
her for the dozen more strokes it took to bring her own climax.
Then it was his own need that kept Sam fucking her through the
spasms until they both let out a cyclonic sigh.
They breathed heavily for a while and Sam stepped back to
settle into the chair again. After a couple of minutes, he saw Miss
Greene lifting her head to look around.
"So do we still work, or does this mean we have the rest of
the day off?" he asked her.
She giggled. And then she got a puzzled look.
"I don't know," she said. "I've never had sex in the middle of
the day before."
-----
"I don't believe it," Chester told Sam.
"DNA evidence doesn't leave much doubt," Sam said.
"I don't mean that," he said, impatiently, "I believe she let him
fuck her, but I don't think she was having an affair with a personal
trainer. I mean, what would they have in common after they fucked?"
They had identified the semen found in the dead woman's
vagina. It still didn't get Chester off the hook. They had identified
Biff Rawlinson from descriptions of him leaving the building at least
half an hour before Mrs. Chester was killed. They reasoned that
Chester had entered after Rawlinson left and shot his wife.
"Then instead of my churning my wheels, why don't you tell
me who you think it might be?" Sam challenged Chester.
"I don't like your tone," Chester snapped. "Do you think I
know who it is and I'm paying you to find out as a joke?"
"And I don't like the growing feeling I'm being jerked
around," Sam retorted. "There's things you aren't telling me that
would make my work easier. Or there's something here that you
aren't being straight about."
"Gosh detective, what was your first clue?" Chester said
sarcastically.
"A rich man's mistress can't live without me? What's that
about?" Sam asked. "And I'm to have no interest in this murder
charge hanging over you? There's either something pretty serious
about this lover, or there's something about your wife's murder you
don't want coming out."
"I didn't kill my wife. Eventually that will come out," Chester
said. "I don't need help with that."
His evasion was helpful. It left the dangerous lover as the
crux of the situation. Chester knew more than he was saying.
"Look, I work for you. It's counter-productive to narrow my
knowledge. Obviously, she isn't being unfaithful to you anymore, so
there's something else going on," Sam took the reasonable approach.
"You won't buy the urge for revenge?" Chester asked.
"Too unconcerned about the other three hundred that
traipsed through her drawers," Sam said, shaking his head.
"You buy blackmail?" Chester countered.
"That makes more sense. Am I supposed to lose all doubt
and trust you now?" Sam said.
Chester shrugged and said, "What I say won't change that."
Sam didn't think Chester was stupid. He just thought he was
more clever than he was. Sam warned himself not to fall into the
same trap. Chester was granting him a few feet more, not full access.
"So now that we've gone once around the barn, will you
tell me who you suspect?" Sam asked again.
"It's not who. It's more a type," Chester said.
They didn't want money. They wanted industrial espionage.
That made the suspects an elite group. It also made the likelihood of
it being a co-worker very slim.
It gave him a different starting point. But at least he had
somewhere to go as he wasted another few hundred dollars of his
client's money. Professional pride aside, he was working.
-----
At the office, Sam went on the offensive.
"So, when do I get invited to dinner again?" he asked Staci
to cover his absence the night before.
"When you get back to the office before I go home," she
said.
"That include tonight?" Sam asked gingerly.
"I was thinking it was about time the working took his
secretary to dinner for a change," she countered.
It was a small penance to pay. Sam would put it on the
expense account anyway.
They ate cheap to stay near her place and Sam padded the
bill with a bottle of wine to get Staci in a mellow mood. She was
mellow as all hell when they stumbled into her apartment.
She was in the mood to play. It was as if she had decided
he was naughty and he would have to punish her.
He needed more cuffs. He used the set on his belt to cuff her
wrists around the bed rail and went to his car for more sets. He
picked up the while he was there and put on a shorter lens.
He hadn't forgotten her hint.
He didn't let her see the just then. He was waiting
until he had her posed the way he wanted her.
The way he wanted her was a mish-mosh of scenes. He
decided not to release her hands as he pulled off her skirt and
underthings. He cuffed her ankles to the bottom rail and then pulled
her sweater up her arms until he could pull it behind her head. The
boulder-holder bra was raised like a flag up her arms to be draped
over the head of the bed.
"What was your Sunday school teacher's name?" he
asked Staci.
Mrs. Grobart? Why are you bringing her up at a time like
this?" Staci questioned.
Sam held up the and answered, "Think she'd like a
couple of 8X10's?"
Staci shrieked and Sam caught her in open-mouthed glory
for his first shot. He took one more and then set up the tripod.
"That's not quite right, he said as he took off his clothes one
piece at a time and carefully folded each one.
When he was naked, he settled in beside Staci and ran his
hands lightly over her body.
"Don't you think you should look more excited for your
portfolio?" he asked as she pinched her nipples into erection.
"You are a rat," she told him, meaning- you remembered.
"Can't be too excited," he went on as his finger trailed down
between her lips.
She groaned in appreciation as she gave into her own
private fantasy. There wasn't much else she could do in her present
position. She had to take all the pleasure she could from being the
captive because she had no say in what Sam would do to her.
Fortunately that was her personal kink. No matter how he
chose to use her, it would be enhanced by her powerlessness to
resist. Adding the danger of photographs made it better.
Sam had to kneel to the side to dangle his cock in her mouth
for the camera. He had no such leeway when he climbed between
her captive legs to fuck her. He mostly did without penetration
shots as his interest in the proper angles faded when he slid his cock
inside her.
It was easy enough to tell what they were doing. Sam was
more interested in capturing her bound limbs in the shot than his
cock filling her crack. Then he was just more interested in his cock
filling her crack.
Staci got truly insane when Sam worked her up this way. He
had taken his time teasing her with her helplessness and toying with
the possibilities out loud. She was returning the favor with the most
active hips she could muster with her legs cuffed to the bed.
It was as good a fuck as they had had in a long time. It was
as good a fuck as Sam had had in a long time. Rose was good,
Mary Greene was tight, but Staci was eager and that was best of all.
She came in under a minute and was ready to come again
almost as quickly the second time. As he groaned himself through
the second set of spasms, Sam set off the in time with his
thrusts. Somewhere the flash of the had become confused
with fucking Staci in his mind.
He heard the film automatically rewind as a blessing in that
delusion. Somehow it had become a symbol of his need to last and
that happy whirr meant he could plunge into Staci and finally empty
his swollen balls into her.
She still came once more before he was ready to cum. She
was deeply into the scene Sam had sprung on her.
Only when he rolled off did Sam curse himself for not
thinking to get pictures of him fucking Staci's magnificent tits. Oh
well, he considered, I don't think this will be the last chance given
the way she responded.
"You wanna take pictures of me your dick?" she
asked when he released her.
"No film," he said, "We must have been rolling on the trip
there at the end."
Staci shrugged. She slid down anyway and took him into her
mouth. He deserved a reward for giving her so much pleasure.
Sam laid back and let her work. He had learned long before that
she liked it just as much when he didn't help at all.
He tried to relax and ignore her, but his calm was no match
for her skilled lips and tongue. He couldn't help but buck up from
the bed when she dragged him to the crest and she used that as an
excuse to take him choking deep to push him over the top.
It was his own little kink. No blow job was better than the
one accompanied by the sound of gagging and the feel of his cock
pushing against soft flesh in the back of a woman's throat.
It wasn't so much that he liked to them. It just turned
him on to think that the woman was so interested in his pleasure that
she would endure the discomfort for him. And Staci could be
willing to go through a lot for Sam. He came like a fountain.
-----
The only reason the waiting for him at his car was not
an unwelcome stranger was that he was no stranger. It was
Detective Catalano- accent on Detective. He was a self-pimping
conceited little rat that had no greater joy than to point out to Sam
that he was a cheap little hanger-on.
It might be true, but it did him no credit to point it out. But
that wasn't what Catalano wanted.
"Get in my car," Catalano pointed, "The downtown
want to talk to you."
"Why don't I come in by myself?" Sam countered, "I was
headed that way anyhow."
"I'll follow you so you don't get lost," Catalano sneered.
It was a great continuation to an already rotten day. Sam
was having a tough time getting started in his newest quest. Now the
cops had some beef with him. He almost wished he had the chance
to pump Catalano on the way to the station- almost.
He didn't have long to wait. Baker hit him with it when he
walked into the squad room.
"Why it's the Midnight Rambler!" Baker announced, "Find
what you were looking for at the crime scene?"
He hadn't been seen. He had worn gloves. Sam couldn't
figure out how they knew.
"Should have closed the door to the bathroom," Baker
chided him as he spun a photo to Sam. "Couldn't have told who you
were in the dark."
It was a capture from a tape. It was dark, but clearly
Sam. It must have come when his light was reflected in the mirror.
It meant they wanted the photos. It also meant there was a
system in the apartment.
"What do you want?" Sam adopted a bored attitude.
"Use your imagination," Baker told him. "Removing
evidence from a crime scene, what do you think we want?"
Even now he wasn't naming the pictures. It was cop think
to the core. Sam felt a little disrespected. They were trying to jerk
him around. He jerked back.
"I read some medicine. Want me to tell you what it said?"
Sam stonewalled.
Baker shook his head.
"Took too long," he said.
"Look, man, you in a dealing mood?" Sam asked.
Baker wasn't the worst of them. As long as Sam wasn't
going to get him in trouble, sometimes Baker would help him out.
It seemed like the right time to play on that.
"What kind of deal are you talking?" Baker went into
negotiating mode.
"I tell you what I found, give it to you," Sam offered. "You
tell me a little bit about this system you found."
"What system?" Baker asked.
"That's a screen cap. I already know there's a taping
system- sound activated, motion activated- whatever. I just want to
know if you found anything interesting in the recorder," Sam said.
He was off the hook for telling Sam about the system. Baker
leaned close and said, "Nada. No tape."
"Okay, I found some dirty polaroids of and girls-
different and different behind the medicine cabinet," Sam
honored the trade.
"We want them," Baker said.
"Sure, but they won't help. No faces. And yes, Mrs. Chester
is in a few of them," Sam said and then asked a little more. "You
think the tape was taken?"
"Who knows?" Baker shrugged. "We found a blank ready
to go, but no tape in the machine. Pity, or we might have the murder
on tape."
He had the detective loosened up. Sam decided to take a
big stab in the dark.
"Any idea who the lady was waiting for?" Sam asked.
He half expected to hear Biff Rawlinson's name, but Baker
shocked him. It was all Sam could do to keep his jaw from dropping.
"Big guy. Well over six foot. Expensive clothes. Expensive
haircut. Expensive sunglasses. Sandy brown hair. Visited her often,"
Baker revealed.
It wasn't Rawlinson. It was the best lead Sam had gotten.
He tried to remain calm.
"Want to send Catalano back with me for the pictures?"
Sam asked.
"He's already on his way," Baker said, "But you can call that
big-titted cooze and tell her to give him the pictures when he gets
there."
Staci seemed sad to hear they were leaving. Sam reminded
her that there were better ones waiting for her in his camera.
Sam ran his lead down to his client.
"Jerry. Jerry Klein," Chester said with a bemused look. "I
thought he was gay."
"Men have been saying that to fuck other men's women
since the beginning of time," Sam said. "Otherwise he make sense?"
"Yeah, sure," Chester said distractedly, still mulling over the
revelation.
For whatever reason, it had the wheels turning. Sam waited
until he had thought it through. Then Chester looked at him again.
"New assignment," he announced. "Help Rose make her
next delivery. I have a surprise for Mr. Klein."
"Am I going to need any special equipment for this?" Sam
asked for clarification.
"No, you're just muscle to keep him from going off on Rose.
Jerry may be imposing, but he's soft as a marshmallow. You
shouldn't have any trouble," Chester said. "I think he'll be able to
control his temper with you there."
"Then I come back to jail and say bye-bye to you?" Sam
asked.
"I'm innocent. They'll turn up something someday," Chester
said to the unspoken question.
-----
Rose was happy to see him. She was getting lonely bouncing
around the big house all alone. She made coffee and brought out
cake while they waited for the call.
She made another pot of coffee and they moved to the living
room while they waited for the call.
She didn't want any more coffee after the second pot. She
did move to a seat beside him on the sofa and began to flirt as they
continued to wait for the call.
Pretty soon they were making out like teenagers in the back
seat while they waited for the call. After long groping and gasping in
this juvenile pursuit, Rose called it enough.
"He's hours late. He isn't going to call. Get out of your
clothes. I can't take this teasing any more," Rose instructed.
Rose was hotter than a firecracker and it hadn't been any
easier on Sam. It reminded him of 'everything but' from his high
school years. It was beginning to remind him of blue balls when Rose
broke down. He tossed his clothes wildly in every direction in his
haste, but Rose beat him by underwear shoes and socks.
She was on the floor working on his footwear as he dropped
his pants on her head and tugged at his underwear. Naked, they
came together like two trains.
For all the force of their passion and violence of their
collisions, they managed to hold out for some time. Sam started her
out on top of her on the couch. He had just fallen on her and his
cock found her as if by radar.
A bit of energetic fucking later, they had taken the edge off
and Rose squirmed to move them into a better position. She turned
on her side and Sam bounced into her big round ass for a while
more.
Then he was taking her from the rear as she squatted over
the arm of the sofa. He knew it was going to be a marathon at that
point. He had gone straight past his climax point before he had even
got his cock in her. It was great sex, but he didn't feel the slightest
pressure to come.
He tipped her over the arm and fucked down into her as
long as his thighs held out. That became Rose sitting on top as he lay
on the floor. They fucked sitting, standing, front and rear over and
about almost every piece of furniture in the room.
"All right, Mr. sex athlete, enough!" Rose finally gasped.
"You've fucked me sore. I've enjoyed the hell out of it, but it's
beginning to hurt."
It was about the time Sam was building to another phantom
orgasm and he groaned. But he understood what she was saying. He
tried to joke.
"Awww, gee, just another hour or two and I was going to
get off," he whined.
"I didn't mean we shouldn't get off," she scolded, "I just
don't want to fuck any more."
Sam had been kneeling in front of the chair she was sitting in
and filling her from there. She pushed him back to lie on the floor
again. She mounted his face and bent down to blow hot breath on
his raw and throbbing cock.
She definitely knew what she was doing. Sam tried to return
the favor with all the patience and attention to detail he could muster.
It turned out to be a wise choice as Rose geared her own
ministrations to the lust he inspired with his tongue. He found that he
could guide her by his location and intensity and in a sense became
the guide to his own blow-job.
He teased himself by driving his tongue into her in deep
stabs to get her moving on his prick and then pausing to lick light
circles around her clit to have her back off and leave them both
hanging. The difference between that and the rest of the night was
Sam knew this impending climax was not a phantom.
Rose's mouth spoke to his real need and when he finally
stayed at his tonguing long and hard enough he knew she would
unlock the night's worth of pressure in his balls. She was good at her
job.
In naked repose after, Sam pressed his luck a little. They
still hadn't heard from Klein, so in a sense they were still on the job
but neither thought he was going to call. Sam had started the necking
thing again by reaching over to fondle one of Rose's perfect brown
tits and this time the petting was a lot better without clothes in the
way.
"So, what was Klein going to be so upset about?" he tried to
pump Rose- for information.
"Working for Ted, I've learned it's best not to know any
more than he tells you," Rose cautioned.
She was a pro. She was obviously aroused again, but there
was no moment of weakness. She didn't do pillow talk.
She was right. He was out of it. As long as Jerry Klein was
the lover in question, he had wrapped up that part of his job. This
was a different case.
Sam felt her muscles squeeze down on his finger when the
phone rang, but that was it. She was instantly back in control as she
pulled his hand from her crotch and reached for the phone.
It was a short conversation. It didn't sound like she was
talking to Klein. She confirmed it was Chester when she hung up.
Sam didn't ask any more. Rose didn't offer. Instead she held out her
hand to lift Sam up from the sofa.
"It's late. You might as well stay the night," she said as she
lead him to her bedroom.
-----
Sam was used to wearing the same clothes two days in a
row. He didn't worry much about the small stuff. In typical Rose
hot and cold, she had sent him off after giving him a soapy hand-job
in the shower.
She had said Chester had another assignment and he should
visit their employer.
"Go bother him," Chester had said.
Him was Jerry Klein. Sam was to go make him nervous so
he would make a mistake. Sam knew that scam. Sound like you
know more than you do so they freak. Just like the cops.
For that, he needed a change. The brown suit from Penney's
wouldn't do at Topo's. He dreaded facing Staci, but it couldn't be
helped.
"You have a good dinner?" Staci asked in a tone that was
accusing and not at the same time.
"Waited for a phone call all night," Sam said, hoping the
half truth would pass inspection. "The guy must have been scared off."
The jury was still out on her reaction. She might be mad or
disinterested. He offered her some detective talk as a peace
offering. She was part of his trusted staff, after all.
"Now I'm supposed to rattle his cage and I gotta get slicked
up," Sam told her.
She was interested enough to kibitz his choice of shoes,
socks and tie as he changed. She only had one piece of advice,
however. Stick with the woman. He didn't know enough about
corporate intrigue not to be tripped up, she reminded him. Stick with
what you know.
Sam saw him when he walked in the place. Tall, sandy
brown hair, but the give away was that he made an obvious attempt
to look like money. He did it in a faggy way that made Sam
understand Chester's impression.
He wouldn't need to order. He wouldn't need to sit. He went
over to the table and looked at Klein.
"May I help you?" he said rather haughtily when Sam walked
up at stood looking at him.
"Just wanted to express my condolences over your loss,"
Sam said.
That could have been enough right there. Jerry did a fair job
of disguising his panic, but Sam saw it in his eyes.
"If you'll excuse us," he said to his lunch companions, and
then to Sam, "Perhaps you'd like to sit at the bar."
"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" Jerry
blustered when they took their stools.
He was trying to put on an offensive, but Sam saw the
shake in his hands as he lit a cigarette to calm himself.
"Who isn't important. What I want is to tell you how sorry I
am your little place on the side has been shut down. It must cramp
your style in a lot of ways," Sam told him.
"Bullshit," Klein spat out, trying to regain the momentum.
"You want something. Why else do you seek me out?"
Sam's alert eyes had found a subject change laying on the
bar. Wrong initials for Jerry Klein, and there was engraving along
the bottom.
"Nice lighter, too bad they screwed up the engraving," Sam
said, reaching for the gold item.
Klein snatched it away before Sam could examine it.
"So what? I proves nothing. It was a gift from a friend. A gift
a long time ago," he said.
It seemed he had struck a nerve again. Maybe it was a
bigger thing to be fucking the competition's in this circle than
Sam imagined. Jerry certainly had a great desire not to be linked
with the dead woman.
"You obviously have no point, so I'll leave you with a
warning," Jerry said, trying to look menacing. "Stay away from me."
Like the professional he was, Sam didn't turn a hair when he
saw Rose lurking in the corner of Topo's. He walked out with his
hands in his pockets, smiling.
He had rattled Klein's cage and then some. Sam thought he
would shit when he reached for the lighter. Strange he would keep it
if he felt that way.
-----
"Hello, Sam," came Catalano's bellow.
"What do you want, detective?" Sam asked.
"Downtown. Now," Catalano held the door to his car open.
"What's the beef now?" Sam asked.
"Shut up and get in. You're hanging from a thread. You
know if I had my way we'd lock you up on general principles," the
abrasive detective told him.
He wasn't going to find out by pumping Catalno. Catalano
probably didn't know. For all his pride in his gold badge, the
detective had evolved into an errand for the department.
Even Baker didn't look friendly. He had a pained look that
seemed genuine as Sam sat by his desk.
"How could you sit there through this and laugh at me?" he
asked, sounding hurt. "I've always tried to play fair and I thought you
did too."
"I'd answer better if I knew what this was about," Sam said.
"Okay, play it hard to get," Baker sighed. "We know you
were there."
"Yeah, and I gave you everything I found," Sam said.
"The day of the murder, Sam," Baker sounded tired. "You
were a witness and you stonewall us all along."
The birds had come home to roost. Someone had seen him
high-tail it off the roof. He understood Baker's mood now.
"I ought to hold you as a material witness," Baker said, "You
know Catalano has been salivating at the thought of slamming the
door behind you."
"I had nothing to tell. She was dead before I got there," Sam
said. "I thought about it, but you were already all over it and I
figured you'd get the wrong idea if I come forward."
"What wrong idea is that?" Baker asked.
"That I was trying to horn in on your investigation," Sam said.
It made just enough sense that Baker might buy it. He hoped
the reason for him being there wouldn't come up. That was a thin
hope. Baker shattered it with his next question.
"How do you know she was dead?" he asked.
"She wasn't moving and she had a bullet in her head,"
Sam summed up.
"Let's see," Baker went into cop mode. "You're a divorce
dick. You were watching this woman. I bet you were taking pictures.
Where are they?"
"I take pictures of people fucking people not their spouses,"
Sam corrected. "She was alone and dead. I didn't take pictures of
that."
"Nothing for reference? A couple of test shots?" Baker
probed.
"I saw the in her head and I got out of there," Sam said.
"A shot or two from morbid curiosity? You had her framed.
You telling me you didn't squeeze off a couple?" Baker pressed.
"I don't make enough to waste film. I got my ass out of there.
I was trying to avoid a scene like this," Sam maintained.
Baker relaxed a little and said, "Our witness did say you
were in a big hurry to get off the roof. I guess we'll have to pass that-
for the present. But don't hold out on me again."
"You know I'd have given it to you if I had anything," Sam
said, sounding cooler than he felt. "I don't obstruct investigations."
"You got a client," Baker reminded him, "You mean you'd
turn him in?"
"Chester didn't do it. Think a minute. I'm going to shoot my
wife for fucking every swinging dick in town. So I hire a private dick
to shoot pictures of the event?" Sam said.
"You got a point," Baker said, considering, "but we didn't
know you were taking pictures because you didn't come forward."
Baker had a point too. Sam didn't think it was time to try
and pry anything else out of Baker.
He reported to Chester. Chester seemed pleased with
Klein's reported reaction. And he cleared up the lighter mystery.
"It's a very special lighter. I had it made for my wife," he
explained. "Would it surprise you to know she was a colleague? We
met while she was doing some investigation for the company. I had
Minox mechanics installed so she could take pictures with it."
That would make it harder to part with, Sam reasoned. It
also brought up other questions about the morass that was Chester's
private affairs. Sam tried to not let the questions confuse him.
-----
Another ugly fact raised its head when Sam saw the three
men waiting for him. Klein wasn't personally dangerous, but he was
willing to hire dangerous.
"Got a message for you shamus," said the one that looked
the most human.
They dragged him into the alley and started in on him.
"Stay away from Klein. It ain't worth it," he said as Sam
hung doubled up from the arms of one of the apes. "Consider this
a friendly warning. If we have to see you again I guarantee you
won't like it."
Ahhh, the joys of his job. They had done a good job.
Outside of possibly a couple of broken ribs, he wasn't seriously hurt,
but every part of him ached from the beating. They were clearly
practiced at roughing up.
At least they had given him the professional courtesy of not
kicking him in the crotch. That was a bigger detail than they might
have realized as Staci tried to ease his pain.
It wasn't helping for her to tickle his cock into erection, but
Sam wasn't about to bitch. Every little twinge of his muscles brought
an ache, but it was worth every little pain.
Staci was eager, but very careful. This part of his job turned
her on almost more than she could stand. Sam knew it was taking
all her self-control to not jump on him and ride him like a bronco.
Her hand was buried between her legs to relieve the lust as
she reached out her tongue to lick his rod. She licked his mercifully
undamaged balls as he tried to shift into a position to take pressure
off his ribs.
Breathing hurt, but when Staci slid her mouth over his hard
cock it didn't seem to as much. In fact it felt better and better
as she him. He hardly noticed the stab in his side when she
changed up on him.
"I guess you deserve special treatment after what you've
been through," she said as she moved up and trapped his rigid staff
between her generous breasts.
She held the big globes and scrubbed them back and forth
on his cock. The sensation was just okay, but the visuals of her using
her huge to jack him off were stimulating enough to make up for
it. Where was the damn when you needed it?
Staci sensed his loss of momentum as his erection no longer
strained its skin with its swelling. She had hoped she had brought
him to the point of no return, but she saw he needed a little more
oral ministration.
Sam was in no condition to tease, so Staci went straight for
the sap. She knew Sam's pain would dull the closer he got to
cumming and she pumped the stalk with her hand while her mouth
worked over the head. Sam hadn't lost that much momentum. She
got an almost immediate yield to her labors.
Sam forgot his aches as his shot out into her mouth. It
was a blessed moment of relief in every sense.
But then the pain returned along with his questions about
what had just happened to him. Obviously Klein had used the
camera to get Sam identified and marked for a beating. The question
was why? Why was Klein that afraid of Sam?
All they had talked about was Klein losing his mistress.
What did Klein read into that? She was obviously mixed up in this
corporate intrigue as well. Had he thought Sam was involved in
that?
His thoughts were interrupted by a pissed off Staci.
"Someone called Rose has an urgent message for you," she
said frostily, holding out the phone.
It wasn't what she thought. It was a belated warning. Sam
told her it was late and she was quiet for a minute.
"I'm sorry," she sounded sincere, "I shouldn't have talked to
Ted first. I should have warned you first."
"They got me before I got to a phone anyway," Sam said.
"Sounds like you've got all the loving care you need," Rose
said.
"I'll recover," he told her, "But I might have to take a day
off."
"You just take off everything you can. I can just you
laying there as I slowly come down, engulfing you, and your face as
you probe up into my hot wetness," she was going hot when she
stopped with a giggle. "She's there, isn't she? Hope you were
keeping a straight face."
Then she hung up.
"My contact. Mr. Chester's mistress," Sam told Staci,
holding out the phone. "You know, the one that prefers me to her
rich sugar-daddy."
Staci didn't find it as cute this time. But she took the phone
and hung it up. For Christ's sake, he was with her the whole time.
It was a phone call. And he wasn't running anywhere to meet a
mysterious other woman. She had to get over it.
-----
Sam wasn't going to be done aching any time soon. He
woke up the next morning feeling better, but painful reminders were
only a wrong movement away.
He had slept in. Staci's arrival had been his alarm clock and
now she was his personal critic.
"You look like the tattooed at the circus," she remarked
as Sam sat up on his cot.
And he would get prettier as the bruises turned colors, Sam
knew. But he had been loafing long enough. He was sore, not hurt.
And there was a live one willing to give him money out there. He
couldn't afford to screw this up.
"Then make the star attraction some coffee because he's got
to get to work," Sam retorted.
She had a cup she had bought for him on her way to work.
He couldn't afford to give her a raise, but he resolved to keep paying
her.
He didn't have anything to report to Chester, but he felt like
he needed to stir the pot on general principles. He wanted to know
why Klein was so scared.
"I thought you said Klein was a marshmallow," Sam said,
letting his puffy face make his point.
"He is. And when I sent you to see him with Rose he would
have been alone and harmless," Chester was conciliatory. "I
understand Rose tried to warn you yesterday. I'm sorry she didn't
get to you in time."
Sam knew when he was being greased. The whole set up
had been hinckey, but never as obvious as Chester's unctuous try to
make nice-nice. He had let it go before, but now it was his skin at
risk. He wanted to know what was going on.
"Why did he panic?" Sam asked. "I got a feeling you know
what Klein's going to do before he does it. What am I in the middle
of?"
"An investigation, I hope," Chester stonewalled.
"Investigating what?" Sam asked. "I found you dead wife's
lover. What am I investigating now?"
"Does that mean you're done and you want to quit being
paid?" Chester asked.
"Can you tell me it's that easy? Do I have your assurance
that if I walk away none of this follows me?" Sam went on.
"All right, all right," Chester held up his hands. "Let me think
how to put this."
That meant: wait while I off the least I can get away
with from the whole story.
"Look, I don't care who's blackmailing who," Sam said with
a lucky choice of words. "I just want to know when I'm sticking my
head into a bee's nest."
Sam didn't miss the way Chester's smile was frozen as he
spoke. He had done the cop thing and made Chester think he knew
something. Now he'd work backwards from the lie Chester made up.
"Okay, Sam," Chester said with a businesslike stare, "I was
hoping to keep you on the fringe as re-inforcement, but I guess
you're in the middle of this now."
He still wasn't giving out information. This ate trickery
for breakfast and had evasion in his blood.
"Mr. Klein is feeling like a trapped about now. He has
no one to turn to and he's being hunted," Chester said, "I'm out of
his reach in jail. My is dead. You're the only face he can identify,
so he might try to take it out on you."
Maybe it was the headache that made Sam think clearly. He
had been outsmarting himself all along. The more Chester talked, the
more obvious the whole charade became.
There was no mystery here. It was just smoke and curtains
thrown up by his client. Chester had know the big all along.
It was only Sam that was in the dark, confused by the
sleight-of-hand. The murder was no mystery. Klein had shot Mrs.
Chester. He had arrived early, argued with her- probably threatened
her. She had pulled out her gun and he had taken it from her and
shot her. He knew it without being able to prove it.
Chester knew it too, but that wasn't his concern. There was
a bigger issue for him. And Sam was supposed to wander around
with a target on his back to draw Klein out.
"Playing target isn't my line of work," Sam said.
"Could you learn for $1,000?" Chester tempted.
"And exactly what do I have to do for this grand?" he asked.
"Nothing but walk around, particularly near Interior
Dynamics," Chester said.
"Make myself a big target, you mean," Sam assessed.
"Keep the pressure on," Chester corrected.
"I need the money now, in case I'm in no condition to collect
it later," Sam said.
Sam saw the relief as he accepted the bribe. Chester thought
he had him in control.
"You can pick it up from Mel Harrison, my attorney, I'll let
him know you're coming." Chester said.
"What happens when the cops let you out?" Sam asked in a
by-the-way manner.
"I get to sleep in a comfortable bed." he said.
Sam didn't feel like going through it again. He doubted
Chester would give up anything more.
Harrison was a walnut paneling and leather furniture lawyer.
Sam half expected to be handled by one of his secretaries. But it
seemed he was too hush-hush for that.
"Mr. Chester suggested I make this for $1,500 to catch up
on past charges," Harrison said as he tore a check out of a large
ledger.
"Any other instructions?" Sam asked.
Harrison scowled at Sam.
"I mean for me, councilor. I don't care if he wants out of the
jug or not," Sam said.
"He gave me no instructions for you," Harrison said.
Chester was a chatterbox compared to his lawyer.
-----
Moving around was making him feel better. Sam decided to
earn some of the money he had put in the bank. He went to Interior
Dynamics and walked around until he was sure he'd be noticed on
the security cameras and then went back to the office.
"Any calls from my girlfriend?" Sam smirked as he walked in
the office.
Staci's reply was another icy stare.
Gee. She really was upset about this one. It must be that
radar of hers. Sam didn't get it. He thought it was laughs for them.
After all, she had sat there through two wives. She must have known
he was fucking them once in a while.
He had to do something to get her back on track. His
musing about their sex life reminded him of the film in his camera.
That might cheer her up. They were good together when they
wanted to be.
Complete darkness helped Sam think. Who had the
equipment? Who had the spy and the set-up? What
could Klein have on Chester?
Everyone already knew Mrs. Chester would fuck anything
that moved. Miss Greene had told him that. And Chester was very
selective in his concern for his wife's chastity. How could Klein, of
all people, Chester with that revelation?
And Chester had said he didn't know it was Klein at first.
That made it a very weak theory. But turn it on its head. If Klein
was the victim, it fit better.
If you don't fuck me, I'll cry rape and say you did. That was
as as the Bible. Now it became, if you don't give us the
information, we'll show the tapes and say you did. Consorting with
the competition's would be suspicious.
That would mean Klein was holding out on them. But he
was still scared. Being connected to the dead woman wouldn't be
good and that might explain why he reacted so strongly when Sam
used that very approach.
The film was ready. It wasn't for a client, so Sam wasn't
going to bother cutting it into strips. He hung the full 36 from the
drying line and turned on the lights.
It was time to bounce this off Staci. He hoped she was at
least still in the mood to play detective.
"Okay, Ice Princess, you too pissed to listen to a story?" he
asked.
"What makes you think I'm pissed?" Staci snapped.
Sam rolled his eyes. He laid out his thinking anyway. Who
was the sneak and what was Sam doing in this?
"Klein's the one that needs you now," Staci said. "He must
be frantic. He hasn't a friend in the world to turn to and he's under
pressure. I'd watch the airports. There's nothing for him to do but
run."
"Chester got anything to offer if he comes through?" Sam
asked.
"It's your case Sam," she responded. "You tell me who they
can hang the murder on. That's the vise Klein is in."
The forbidden words being spoken gave Sam a chill. He had
felt the other agenda just below the surface, but now he had to ask
himself if Chester was using him as a shill. It was time for a fact-
finding mission.
-----
Rose seemed so happy to see him. She was very solicitous
about the beating. It was all her fault, she assured him and she
wanted to make it up to him.
Sam said he needed to know what Klein was doing. Did his
little excursion that day upset Klein more? Blackmailers were wiggly
suckers and you had to keep an eye on them.
She seemed happy to his explanation. She seemed
eager to something else. Sam asked for more of a profile on
Klein to get to her 'office'.
He sat on the couch as she printed out some papers. She
touched his bruises as he pretended to read the fact sheets. It wasn't
going to be the worst thing to let her seduce him.
"How bad does it hurt?" she asked him as she undressed him
to find the rest of the marks on his body.
"It's better today," Sam said.
"Oh my, I feel so bad," she said between kissing the bruises.
Sam's heart wasn't in it, but his cock had no politics.
"Lie back and let me try to make you feel better," Rose
urged.
It was easier to forget she was tying a noose around his neck
when she was an unseen mouth kissing her way down his body. Sam
let her have her way with him. She had little more than licked his
cock when she re-appeared in his line of sight already naked.
She used her to soothe his hurts as she dragged the
heavy flesh over his body. Sam was caring less and less about the
outside situations. The blood from his brain was rushing to his cock
in quarts. She was a good little fuck and he was going to have to
fuck her anyway. He might as well get what he could from the
experience.
She had his cock pressed between her labia and she used
her thighs to trap it there as she insinuated her legs between his. It
made her moistening slit slide up and down his pole as she moved her
breasts over his torso. It also gave him the hunger to bury his cock
inside her.
He did feel better for the exercise. He reached down to
grab Rose's wide ass and guide it as he rubbed his cock on her slit.
Even his ribs didn't too much.
"It seems I've worked magic," Rose said, "You sure you're
ready for a work-out like this?"
His ribs stabbed him in his side as he heaved her off, but the
sight of her sprawled across the flat couch was worth it. Her lolled off her chest from their weight and her legs flew wide in
welcome. But Sam had other ideas.
"Over," he said as he grabbed her leg and flipped her on her
stomach. "Lie there. I'll take care of this."
Sam pulled her hips up until she was on her knees with her
cheek still pressed to the sofa. It was a butt no could resist.
Sam didn't need any guidance. He put both hands on the swell
where her tiny waist became her broad hips and his cock found its
way inside her with no trouble.
She had the tightness of unreadyness and Sam pounded into
it before it went away. His side ached at every thrust and finally he
was forced to bend forward to alleviated the pain. He slid his hands
up her torso as an excuse and grabbed her tits.
He lifted her to her elbows by them and then lowered his
hands to feel their weight shift as he drove into her from the rear. It
was better only using his hips, but soon he needed more. The warm
welcome of her inspired his need to drive deeper.
His hands left her and grabbed her by the shoulders.
He jerked her back against him. That gave him the penetration he
wanted. He jammed her on and off his cock as the spirit drove him.
Her treachery had turned to a good thing. It gave him the
impetus to really stick it to her. She took it like a pro and Sam took
it as a sign she was willing to sacrifice her comfort for his pleasure.
He liked that even in Rose.
He almost liked it in Rose too long. He had barely rolled
to the couch spent when the phone rang. Except it wasn't her phone.
She seemed puzzled, but rolled away from Sam to find the one
ringing.
It was a trick. Sam wanted a closer look at the room. He
scrambled up and took a closer look at the walls behind the
hangings. He didn't need to jump to conclusions. His conclusions
were right there in shiny spots on the walls. They might not have
been noticed without the hangings, but Sam knew what he was
looking for- just a pin hole.
He was sitting on the couch, pulling on his pants when Rose
came back.
"They hung up," she said and then went to examine her
phone.
"I shouldn't have taken the time to let you, ahhh- nurse me,"
Sam said, "But I'm glad I did. Now I've really got to get some work
done."
He cleared the area without any protest from Rose.
Maybe Chester liked to watch. Maybe the cameras were
never turned on when he was with Rose. But maybe they were and
that was somehow a motive for him to kill Mrs. Chester.
He certainly was the expendable one of the group. Klein had
spying to do. Rose had her obvious value. Sam's collar felt a little
tight.
-----
"But you had nothing to do with it," Staci assured Sam,
"How can they make it seem you did?"
"They have enough," Sam said. "I'll tell you the way I'd
frame me. The murder went just like it did, but I wrestled the gun
away from Mrs. Chester and shot her."
"What motive could you have?" She asked.
Oooops. Sam's mood made him forget about that part of
the story. He improvised.
"I guess I showed up early and saw my side bit getting it
from Biff and went nuts," Sam said. "I don't know exactly what they
have, but I feel a noose around my neck."
"It seems simple to me," she said, "Give them Klein."
"I'd love to, but how? Waltz in and tell Catalano he's got me
all wrong? I know he's heard that I killed her, but the truth is that it
was somebody else and they should arrest him instead." Sam said.
"No," Staci snapped. "Be a detective. Get the evidence that
Klein shot her. You were smart enough to figure out the scam. Now
figure out how you can catch Klein."
It was a gratifying faith she had in him. And it was his only
way out of his predicament. The trouble was Sam had no idea where to start. How was he supposed to pull off a miracle that
50 cops- with access to the crime scene evidence- couldn't solve in
a week?
His only advantage was he knew the identity of the killer.
And none of those crime novel tricks was going to work with a that was more likely to have him killed than to confess when
confronted. Real-life murders gained nothing by blurting out their
confessions even when caught with the smoking gun in their hands.
Sam was blank after blank. And his growing
nervousness wasn't helping him one bit. He needed something to
take his mind out of the rut.
"You want to go play in the dark?" Sam asked Staci.
"What does that have to do with the case?" she asked.
"I need a break," Sam pleaded, "I keep seeing cell doors
and I need a fresh perspective."
"And you think getting laid will help?" she asked.
"That would be nice too," Sam said, "But I really meant the
dark. I developed the film we took and I thought you might want to
look 'em over to see what we print."
It took a few moments, but she began to giggle at the
thought. She did want to see what Sam had captured on film.
"Feelthy peectures," Sam joked as he held up the strip.
He threaded the roll into the enlarger and hit the lights. The
first one wasn't very good. Too much of his shoulder. He pulled the
film thorough. That was better- orgasmic Staci cuffed to the head
rail. The last eight were pretty much the same thing. The best was
one of Staci in an open-mouthed scream and one with bulging eyes
as Sam had evidently hit bottom hard. The second also had Staci's
tits flying up around her chin in full extended glory.
Staci's nipples were hard against his back and her hand had
wandered to his crotch as she looked over his shoulder. She might
have been more turned on by looking at the pictures than she was
while they were taking them.
For Sam it was memory. He could feel what he was feeling
as the flash went off. But it didn't at all that she was re-enforcing
the memory with a very real and present stroking of his cock.
The blow-job was disappointing. There was a mildly
amusing view of her bound with a dick in her mouth, but to be hot,
Sam would have to closer on her face and lose some of the
window-dressing. That perception was made stronger by the
pure shots of Staci in bondage. Helpless, available, and clothes still
hanging off parts of her, she was the poster child for restraints.
Sam wanted to see the first one- with shock on her face
as she laid cuffed to the bed, but he slipped past.
He couldn't tell what that was. Then his hard-on faded in
Staci's hand. A chill ran up his spine. It was as if a hand reached out
of the grave. It was Mrs. Chester dead on the couch.
He was confused, but it came back to him. He had set the
camera off in his haste. Staci was beside him now, staring down
at the easel where the reversed image was projected.
"That's spooky," she said with a quaver in her voice. "I
didn't think you took any pictures."
"I didn't. The went off. I thought I probably got sky
or rooftop. I was in a hurry," Sam explained.
He was partially right. The first shot on the roll was a close-
up of the side of the building. The second and third had Mrs.
Chester's window in some part of the frame.
` "What's that?" Staci pointed to a bright fleck on the second
picture.
"Probably something in the film," Sam said and turned the
enlarger head up to blow up the image.
As he adjusted it back into focus, he could see it was no
flaw. It had a shape. He just couldn't tell what it was. The light of its
reflection had burned all the detail out of the film.
He moved the film back to the next frame. The angle was
better. He fidgeted with the enlarger again. As it came in focus he
could see a small object on the table, just past the perforated
forehead of the dead woman.
He thought he knew what it was. His hands shook a little as
it put the grain focuser on the board.
"What is it Sam?" Staci asked as she felt his agitation.
"I hope it's the answer," Sam said.
He reached awkwardly over his head to find the crisp grain
with the focus knob. There were initials. MC- Marylin Chester. He
moved the focuser. "To my dutiful wife, Marylin" was engraved on
the bottom. It was her lighter. The very one he had seen Klein use
to light his cigarette. And it was lying next to the dead woman.
It placed Klein at the scene.
"What is it Sam? A clue?" Staci asked over his shoulder.
No, baby, it's the thing itself," Sam chuckled.
The relief was overwhelming. Whether or not the cops ran
out and arrested Jerry Klein, it was certainly enough to cast doubt on
any the others tried to tell about Sam being involved. The very
witness that placed him across the street was his alibi. Someone had
been in the room after this was taken.
Sam moved the lighter top the corner of the easel so Mrs.
Chester's head was clearly visible and turned off the enlarger. Time to
make some copies.
-----
Sam took the raft of photos, from full-frame to the enlargement
with him to see Baker.
"You came in yourself," Baker was surprised, "How did you
know we were looking for you?"
"Looking for me? Who'd you send, Catalano? Because I was
right where I always am," Sam said. "I came in because I got
something to show you."
He ran quickly through the oops shots and then showed
Baker the pictures.
"Isn't a bit strange that you said there were no photos and
now there are?" Baker was suspicious.
"I told you I thought I had shot sky or something. I wasn't
aiming, I was packing," Sam said again.
"And what's the big deal here?" Baker said.
"The lighter. I'll bet you dollars to doughnuts that there's no
lighter in any of the crime scene shots. I saw Jerry Klein light a
cigarette with that lighter three days ago," Sam said.
"Who's Klein?" Baker asked.
"Tall, sandy-haired man, looks like money," Sam said, "The
guy Mrs. Chester was having the affair with."
"It all sounds pretty convenient to me," Baker said. "We got a
guy says you were having the affair with Mrs. C. All of a sudden you
show up and finger another guy."
"I didn't finger him. I just found out who he was," Sam
countered, "You gave me the description. Tell me I look like money."
Baker didn't argue that. He was still slow to be convinced.
He wanted to see the negatives. Let their own lab check it for tricks.
Sam had at least put a doubt in Baker's mind. He went back
to his place for the negatives.
It seemed Sam had no secrets. He walked in on Staci tied to
her chair with a handkerchief in her mouth.
"They looked like you described the that beat you up,"
she said when he took out the gag, "Two apes and a chimp."
Her nipples were very hard. Sam considered leaving her tied
for a while for her own enjoyment, but Staci scolded him.
"It's my kink," she said when she saw the direction of his gaze.
"Now untie me. They threw this place upside down and we need to
see what's missing."
Sam ignored her and ran into the darkroom. His heart sank.
There was no strip of negatives hanging from the enlarger. He went
back and untied Staci glumly.
"I am fucked," he lamented.
Staci darted past him to look. She emerged smiling.
"What are you grinning about?" Sam snapped at her.
She held up a short strip of film.
"They didn't look in the enlarger," she said.
Staci had cut her pictures from the evidence. That must have
been what they grabbed.
"Damn! I knew we should have printed the good ones!" Sam
teased her. "Now how are we going to send that one to your Sunday
school teacher?"
Sam put the film in glassine and went straight back to
headquarters. He felt safer surrounded by cops for once, even if
Catalano was the one holding down the store.
"Well, well, if it isn't our favorite jailbird," Catalano said. "I'm
going to enjoy watching you go down for this."
"You will wait until Baker gets back, won't you," Sam
answered.
"You saying I can't lock you up on my own?" Catalano
stormed, raising from his chair threateningly.
"I'm saying you missed out again and you're going to be
disappointed when the lieutenant gets back," Sam said.
Catalano sat down. He scowled at Sam. Sam scowled back.
Their facial expression war broke when there was a commotion and
Baker walked over to his desk. He dropped an evidence bag on the
desk.
"Ever see that before, Sam?" he asked.
"If it says: to my dutiful wife, Marylin, on the bottom, I have,"
Sam said, looking at the lighter in the bag.
"He was carrying it in his pocket like you said," Baker
informed Sam. "You got the negatives?"
Sam pulled them out of his pocket and handed them to Baker.
Baker looked at them quickly and then smiled.
"Give Catalano your statement how you came to be in
possession of them and then get your scruffy ass out of here," Baker
said.
-----
Sam never heard from Rose or Chester again. He wasn't even
called for Klein's trial. He heard Klein bargained it down to
manslaughter, which was okay by Sam. Klein was almost as much a
victim of the Chesters as he had nearly been.
The roll of film on the thugs came back to haunt Staci,
however. It didn't officially exist, but they both heard the snide
comments that proved just about every cop in the city had seen or
heard about the pictures.
Oh well, she said the danger turned her on.
###
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