5 comments/  13294 views/  0 favorites

Cold

By: roughandsweet



Well, this is my first submission ever, and though I have ideas for other stories, this is the one that is short enough for a quick read, so I thought I'd try it first. I'd appreciate it very much if you would take the time to review. Thanks for reading!

----------------------------------------

She swallowed, nervous, although she really had no reason to be. It wasn't as if he were different from any other man she had slept with. It wasn't as if, when he dropped his pants, she would find anything other than the standard balls, penis, and pubic hair snaking up his belly. 

He'd kept himself in good shape all these years, she appraised with the eye of a woman comparing a couch with the one she had at home. There was no longer a six pack, but the stomach was flat, and though the biceps had shrunk, his arms still looked strong. She had made quick work of the t-shirt, of the belt, and now she had paused for a second, wondering if this was really what she wanted to do. 

"Come on..." he said, his voice rough, his chin jutting out, as if it were a challenge. 

She grinned, hooked her two pointers under her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Women killed to look like this at thirty-five. High proud breasts, tiny little waist, warm flaring hips. He roller her over, kissing her hard, his tongue finding the grooves on the roof of her mouth. She ran her own tongue underneath his, raising her hips and finding that place that made a man want to drive himself to suicide. He leaned on one arm and snaked the other between them, unbuttoning first his jeans, and then her skirt. 

She could feel his erection, straining to get closer to her, to get inside her. His fingers nearly tore off her bra, and then his rough warm hands were cupping her breasts, his warm mouth sucking her nipples into his mouth. She moaned, wrapping her bare legs around him, griding deeper, trying to get him to the right place—hard. 

She'd recognized him immediately in the lobby. He'd grinned embarrassedly at her. She remembered that expression well—it was so fucking endearing. He'd lift his right arm to the back of his neck, squint his eyes, and tilt his head to the left. "Heya," he'd said. 

"Hey hon, long time, no see."

"No kiddin'" 

She'd taken in the difference between them—he was obviously part of the hotel staff, and she was obviously a professional, in her tall heels, her white shirt and business skirt, her stockings and breifcase. She considered her move for a moment. He was as handsome as ever, age improving his looks, though he wasn't nearly as buff as he had been in college. "Wanna get a drink?" she asked finally. "I'll buy you a beer or whatever it is men drink nowadays."

He smiled. "Still beer. Till the end of time."

And now they were here, and he was hard, and it was time. 

She flipped him over, straddling him. His eyebrows rose at the change in position, and he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Hey," he said, with a sexy, mischeivous grin. "I should get behind you."

She grinned back. Not a chance, she though, but instead, she yanked down his underwear and curled her hand around his shaft. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Or that," he groaned. She dug in her purse until she found her go to condom, and ripped it open with her teeth. It only took her a second to get the damn thing on, and then she kissed him again, letting her nipples brush his chest. She didn't even bother taking off her underwear. Instead, she shoved them to the side, positioned him, and slid him into her. 

He groaned in pleasure, and she sighed. She'd missed his impressive length, his girth. Although she'd had better sex, she hadn't yet met a man who'd been quite as big as him. As long, yes, as thick, yes, but never both. And now, she raised herself up, thrusting her breasts out, and began to move. 

Oh yes, she thought...she'd forgotten how damn full she felt with him inside her. A perfect fit—tight and hard and sopping at the same time. God, this was wonderful...

He opened his eyes and couldn't stop staring at the site—the beautiful, pert breasts bouncing wildly, her stomach, her hips, the fingers on her clit. She wasn't as tight as she used to be, but damn, she was still as wet and hot. He reached for those breasts, and she used her other hand to instead position on hand on her hips, and the other on her clit, to replace hers. Then she pulled him up to a sitting position and forced his mouth to her breast. 

She knew exactly what she wanted from him. She knew that he knew how to suck that tit, how to swirl the nipple exactly how she liked it. And at this particular angle, every stroke was hitting that sweet spot, and his hands were doing excellent work on that clit. She felt the waves of pleasure running through her, and she smiled. "Do the other one," she said, the first thing that she had said so far. He switched nipples, and she threw her head back and kept her motion going. This was perfect, oh god...perfect. 

"Harder," she commanded, still in the same breathy tone, and his fingers massaged harder, twisting her clit, biting her nipple, reaching up to sqeeze the other breast with her hand. He could hardly believe his luck. He wasn't sure why she had insisted in using the floor of the unisex bathroom, but since he knew the janitor had just mopped the floor, and that not many people used the third floor, he'd agreed, and he was fucking glad. This felt amazing...he could feel his body reaching for the best orgasm he'd had in years. 

And suddenly she came. 

It was as abrupt as their meeting—her body arched into him one last time, and he felt her muscles spasm. He wasn't surprised. She'd been ridiculously turned on, and he'd been hitting all her sweet spots at the same time—nipple, clit, and cunt. What surprised him was when she slid off of him. 

"Want me get behind you now?" he said, grinning again. 

"Hm. Not really." She pulled her shirt back on, and reached for her skirt. 

"What?" he was confused, of course.

"I got what I wanted."

She stood, puller her skirt back on, and checked her hair in the mirror. 

"Bye, hon," she said, stepping back into her heels, turning, and exiting the bathroom.

It wasn't like sex was a competition. But really—it was all that was left to prove. She looked better than him, she made more money than him, and now—she came faster than him. She smiled, wondering if he were remembering every night that they had been together in college, when he had left her in the same condition. She wondered if he remembered that night that she caught him cheating, and then claimed it was her fault for not being better in bed. He'd thought he'd made a good point. 

Well, fucking counterpoint, she thought, sliding her card into her own room, closing the door and heading straight for the shower. 

Revenge is best served cold. 

------------------------------------------

Again, I'd love it if you reviewed.  

Cold



He knocked on my door promptly at 8pm. I opened the door, and his eyes slid quickly down my body.

"Very nice, but aren't you going to be cold? It's only 50 degrees out there."

I smiled, "I'll be okay."

He was right - the little black dress and sexy high heels were no match for the breezy spring chill, my coat doing nothing to protect me. However, I kept quiet, hoping he didn't notice the goosebumps covering my arms.

It was a pleasant date; we talked and laughed easily through dinner, sharing a slice of pie for dessert. After dinner, we walked hand-in-hand through a nearby park, the crisp air and stillness soothing after the stuffy heat of the restaurant. 

He walked me to my door, and gave me a gentle kiss goodnight. When he turned to leave, I grabbed his arm. "Please. Stay."

He kissed me again, harder this time, pressing me against the cold wood of my door. I broke the kiss, fumbling to unlock the door to let him into my apartment, heart pounding with nerves. My little studio apartment seemed very small with the two of us, standing quietly, apart from each other. 

He looked at me quizzically. "You're shaking. Are you nervous?"

I smiled, shaking my head. "Just cold. Should have dressed warmer."

He opened his arms. "Come here." I walked into his arms, relishing in the heat of his body.

We stood that way for a while, my eyes closed, breathing in his scent as he ran his hands up and down my back slowly.

"Alethea?"

I lifted my head, and his warm hands caressed my cheeks. He cupped my face in those big warm hands and kissed me softly. Brushing my hair out of my face, he ran his fingers through the silky tresses. He kissed the tip of my nose, then grinned. "Your nose is cold."

I looked up at him, the high heels I wore giving me more height. "Everything is cold."

"Guess I should do something about that." He said seriously, though there was a twinkle in his eyes. Backing me up, he stopped when my legs hit the end of the bed, blankets soft against my bare legs. 

He kissed me again, just as softly as before. When I didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth, tangling mine with his. His hands slid down my back and cupped my buttocks, pulling me against him. I could feel his erection pressing against my stomach. I shivered, this time having nothing to do with the cold. His eyes searched my face, coming to the same conclusion.

Sliding his hands up my back, he unzipped my dress, letting it pool around my ankles. I kicked off the high heels, leaving myself only in a sexy lace bra and panty set.

I met his gaze, and shivered. His strong arms wrapped around me and he picked me up, and carried me to the head of the bed, where he lay me down. Kissing me, he began to strip. Off came the dress shirt, followed by his shoes, socks, and pants. He crawled into bed, rolling me onto my back, and laid on top, covering both of us with the covers. 

He gave a muffled shout when my icy feet brushed against his calf. 

"I told you I was cold." I said impishly.

"I should really do something about that." He kissed my lips briefly before kissing my cheek, then my neck below my ear.

I sat up so he could unhook my bra, which was dropped on the floor in the pile of clothes beside the bed. He kissed his way down to my breasts, nipples already hard and erect. Drawing one aching peak into his warm mouth, he began to suckle and tease them, alternating so that both were warm and aching when he finally continued his downward descent. Kissing down the planes of my flat stomach, he paused briefly to lave my belly button causing me to squirm, before he continued further to the juncture between my legs. He kissed my cloth-covered mound, before easing the tiny scrap of fabric down my legs, dropping it on the floor. Sliding his hands under my butt, he raised my body to his mouth and began to feast, delving into my wet folds with an agile tongue. I bucked against his mouth, crying out as an orgasm hit hard and fast. 

One finger eased inside, and he continued until I had orgasmed again, convulsing under him. He looked up at me, mouth slick with my wetness. "Are you warm enough or do I need to continue?"

"I'm warm now, but please, don't stop." I whimpered.

He suckled my stiff clit before making his way back up my body. His boxers joined my underwear on the floor, and he lay on top me once more. I could feel the warm weight of him on my thigh. 

Easing himself between my spread legs, he entered me smoothly and fully, impaling me completely on his hard length. 

I moaned as I felt him begin to thrust, fucking me gently. Kissing him, I could taste myself on his lips. He continued to fuck me, long deep thrusts stimulating every inch of my pussy. He showered kisses on my face, neck, and breasts while I moaned, arching my back for deeper penetration. 

Wrapping his arms around my back, he pulled us to sitting, blankets pooling around us as he continued to fuck me, neither of us aware of the cold. Raising and lowering my hips, I rode him as he played with my sensitive breasts and stiff nipples. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently, our gaze locking momentarily before I had to throw my head back, while orgasming hard. 

Grabbing my hips he began to thrust hard, his tempo becoming erratic before he convulsed underneath me, filling me with a hot load of cum. He kissed me again, while pressing me back against the pillows, blanketing me with his warmth, even though I no longer felt the cold on my sweat-dampened skin.

I kissed him gently and smiled. "I'm not cold anymore. Thank you."

Kissing me softly, he replied, "Anytime."



Cold As Hell



I’m known for my talent in locking myself out of cars, homes, offices -- you name it. That final click a door makes when it closes sends a shiver through my body. This year, I began New Year’s Eve with a cup of hot coffee. Then wrapped in my sweat clothes, I ran out through the snow to the mailbox to get the paper. As I ran, I heard the door click behind me -- locked. “Shit!” as I ran, feeling the sub-freezing temperature around my ankles. I opened the mailbox, “Shit!” as I grabbed the paper and then suddenly the door in the next condo opened and Rachel, my neighbor called, “Hey, over here, Dean!” I ran to her door. 

“Get in here, fool. I heard your door lock behind you from over here!” She smiled, her face red from the cold as she laughed with me, wrapped in a big robe with huge frog slippers on her feet. I smile and laughed back, letting her lead me to her kitchen. “I’ll make more coffee,” she called over her shoulder. I was excited to see her and my big grin on my cold face gave it away. 

You see, Rachel and I had moved into our condos on the same day during the 4th of July weekend. At the time, I was still dating Emily and just smiled and introduced myself before Emily yanked me away (she was very possessive). And Rachel was surrounded by a number of male friends who were helping her move. 

From our short conversation, I learned that Rachel was a former ice skater, Olympic Tryout material. From the Condo Newsletter’s Newcomer’s section, I learned that she finished 5th in the US Championship her last year of amateur skating. She skated for several years in one of the professional shows and retired to be a skating choreographer here in Atlanta. 

She had a wonderful smile that I saw often as we walked to our mailboxes or sat on our decks. We were friendly at the pool during the summer, smiling and talking, flirting a bit. She still had her body from her skating years -- tall, slender, with incredibly strong legs and butt (I had seen that at the pool), small but well-shaped breasts, shoulder length blond hair with green eyes. She wore a one-piece electric blue suit that hugged her body. 

At Thanksgiving, the Condo Board threw a party for those of us who did not go home for Thanksgiving. She and I danced several times, once to an incredibly long slow song that left me semi-erect and left her with a sparkle in her green eyes. Emily and I were still together then so nothing came of the dance. 

I broke up with Emily in a great fight the weekend after Thanksgiving and drifted over to Rachel’s condo the next week but there was no answer. The neighbor on the other side told me that she was gone to some big skating competition in Los Angeles and would not be back until after Christmas -- she was going to her parents in Kansas. He was picking up her mail and talking care of her cats. I just laughed it off until the New Year. 

As I entered her kitchen, she leaned over the counter to get her coffee beans and grinder (ah, fresh ground coffee in the morning!) and her thick robe fell open. Under the robe her long legs were visible under the boxers she wore. I smiled as I watched the lean line of her body as she stretched for the grinder -- she was so graceful. I had a sudden desire to hold her and another desire to watch her face as she submitted to hard sex. My cock throbbed in my boxers and stiffened against the soft cotton material. 

We drank our coffee and talked, her robe open as we watched the birds feed on her deck outside the kitchen picture window, her body in tee shirt and boxers under the open robe, my sweats covering only my boxers. She asked about “... your girlfriend?” and her eyes twinkled as I told her that we had broken up several weeks ago. She put on a CD and told me, “I bought this after we danced to this song at the party. ” A slow song played and we smiled, remembering our dance at the party. I reached across the table and caressed her hands, watching her nipples harden and press against her tee shirt. Her face relaxed and she smiled, “That’s nice,” she said. 

I stood, walking around the table to stand in front of her with my thick 8-inch cock now hard and erect in my sweats, “This could be even nicer. ” I watched as her face turned up to me, still smiling, and her hand went out to caress me, stroking me through the material of my sweats, a small moan escaping her lips as she stroked my full length, her eyes still sparkling. She pulled my sweats down around my knees, my thick 8-inch cock pressing against my boxers, and then springing free as she pulled my boxers down, then slowly licked my thick shaft with her tongue. “Oh God,” I gasped, her tongue tracking the veins on my cock, her hand stroking me slowly as then her tongue flicked my flared mushroom head. “Oh God,” she echoed as she stroked me slowly. 

I put my hand around her hand and slapped her face gently with my hard cock. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured as I slapped her face again, thin lines of my pre-cum shining on her cheeks. I watched as her tongue snaked out to lick the head, licking a drop of pre-cum from the tip. “It’s beautiful!“ as she lifted her head and looked into my eyes just seconds before she sucked the head deep into her hot wet mouth. 

“God” I groaned as I slide my hands behind her head and neck, pulling her closer as she took me deeper and deeper, twisting her head from side to side around my hard cock. The thick shaft filled her throat, and she gagged slightly, the dropped to her knees and tossed her robe off, changing the angle of her neck as she deep throated me. “Damn!” as my cock slide fully inside her hot throat, her tongue underneath my cock, flicking the head as she bobbed up and down, then sliding against my shaft as she slide down deep on me. 

She continued to twist her head from side to side, her mouth hot around my cock as it turned, two fingers holding me as she sucked me so deep that her mouth brushed my pubic hair. “Oh God!” I groaned as my hands hold her head, my knees slightly bent for position, my back arching as I thrust gently with her bobbing head on my cock. She lifts off of my hard cock, smiling up at me, a long line of salvia from her mouth to my cock head. “I want your cum Dean. I’m not lifting from your cock again until after you cum. ”

She took me into her mouth with a vengeance, taking me deep, my cock head sliding against the back of her mouth and down her throat, her head swirling left and right, hair flying, mouth hot around my cock as she twisted. I could feel her tongue working quickly, swirling around my head as she bobbed up, then stroking my shaft as she drove down onto my shaft, then caressing the root of the shaft as she sucked me deep. 

At last, she began bobbing up and down, slowly and then quickly, taking my cock deep ever time, my head just on her tongue and then deep in her throat. She reached and grabbed my thighs, pulling me in rhythm with her head bobbing, forcing me to fuck her mouth. I grabbed handfuls of hair and held on, arching my back to drive deep into her mouth. 

“Oh Rachel” I groaned, feeling my orgasm coming, pulling at her head, but she just held me tighter, sucking me deeper, tonguing me rougher as I screamed out “I’m cumming!” and filled her throat and mouth with hot thick cum. She released me and I pulled out, spraying cum across her lips and cheeks, then spurting across her open mouth and extended tongue. Cum dripped from her cheeks as she took me back into her mouth, sucked me dry, then sucked and licked me as I recovered. 

I lifted her to her feet, kissing her mouth and tasting my cum on her lips. “Rachel, mummy, that was great. Now it’s my turn. “ I pressed her back against the table. With her long legs, her ass rested at the edge of the table, and I slowly slid my lips down her neck to her chest, lifting her tee over her head and sucking her hard nipples into my mouth. Her breasts were exquisitely formed and very sensitive, and she clutched at my head moaning. I sucked and nibbled at both breasts, picking up that she loved the feel of my teeth gently biting and rough against her nipples. I wanted more, so I pressed her back against the table and slid her boxers off. 

Her pussy was clean-shaven, moist with her juices, and at face level. She moaned loudly as I slid my tongue between her lips and tasted her juices. My tongue slide inside her slit, searching and finding her hard clit, then licking her softly. “Ohyes!“ as I tongue rested against her hard nub. She grabbed at my head and directed my head, then rested her arms on the table as she arched her body to press her pelvis against my tongue. “Ohyes!” as I spread her pussy with my fingers, and probing deep again. I capture her clit, and her hands grabbed my head, directing me, pulling me tight against her as I tongued her. 

I tongued her clit softly, first flicking it with the tip of my tongue, and then varying the flicks with full tongue pressure. As she moaned, I twisted my head left and right, tonguing her with new angles and pressures. Her hands left my head, grasping at my shoulder, nails digging into me, as I sucked and licked her clit. She threw her legs over my shoulders, pulling at me as she gasped for air. 

I felt her body stiffen, her hands grasping at my head, her mouth gasping for air, “oh, oh, oh, ohyes, OHYES!” as she came, her legs grabbing at my shoulder and pulling me into her as my tongue continued to suck and flick her hard clit. “OHYESFUCK!” as I felt another orgasm sweep her body, her legs holding me tight against her, my mouth buried in her hot channel. I kept licking, and orgasms swept over her, her body shaking, her unintelligible groans filling the room, “Ohyes, ohyes, ohyes, ohyes... ” She finally pushed me away from her pussy, “ummmmmm” as I held her, allowing her to recover. 

As she began to move against me, her wet pussy dripping with her juices, lifting me up against her body. “Oh Dean, I want you now. ” As I stood, my cock slid up her legs and wedged between her ass cheeks, slick with her pussy juices. She groaned, “God, you are so big and thick. I have to have you. ” I moved back and forth, my cock between her tight ass cheeks like a tight titty fuck. 

My cock throbbed and I reach down, sliding my hand against her wet pussy until soaking wet, then stroking my hard cock. I bent my knees, sliding my shaft up and down between her ass cheeks, listening to her moans of pleasure. I reached around again, getting my hand wet and lubricating my shaft and head. She clutched my shoulders, gasping her hot moist breath in my ear, “oh... oh... oh... oh... ”

I bend my knees, changing the angle of my cock, pressing against your tight ass ring, you body stiffening against me. “Nooooooooooooooooooooo!” as my wet cock head slides against your tight asshole, “God NO! You are so big!” I arch my back, thrusting smoothly with more pressure as your hands clutch my back, fists hitting me, nails clawing at my back, “Nooooooooooooooo!” as I push hard against your tight ring, then suddenly the thick mushroom head of my cock popping inside your ass. 

“ARRRRGGHHHHHHHHHH!” as you fall backwards on the tabletop, legs splayed, resting over my shoulders. My arms go beside your body, my body pressing against you and my cock sliding several inches inside your tight tunnel. I rest, allowing you to get used to me, my hand going to your pussy to rub you and stroke your wet clit. My cock fills you, and the fullness grows and fills your body, and you moan, “Ohyes, ohyesssssssss!”

I arch my back and press against you, sliding slowly deeper and deeper, listing to your gasps, “ohhhhhhhhhhh” with every inch, your hands now pulling my ass towards you, taking my cock deeper, the pain/pleasure filling you. Finally, my balls slide against you, your wet pussy against my abdomen, my face just over your face, eyes open, gasping for breath with my cock fully inside your tight anal channel. Then you say, “Oh don’t stop. Don’t stop fucking my ass. ”

I pull back from you, your tight anal ring grasping at me, and your body slides off the table as the friction pulls at your ass, “OHYES!” as I thrust back inside you, filling you again with my thick cock. I try to pull out again and get a little further, but your ass is too tight, too clutching, and I slide back in again to fill you. “Ohhhhh... umpff” I hear with every pull and thrust as my cock slide a little further out then slams back deep inside you. “Ohhhhh... umpff” as I try again, getting almost 4 inches out then slamming back in again. Finally, I set up a rhythm, your body rocking underneath me, “Ohhhhh... umpff... ohhhhh... umpff... ohhhhh... umpff... ohhhh... umpff!”

Your body writhes under me, your tits swaying with every thrust, your ass thumping against the table, hands outstretched and clutching the edge of the table, your pussy wet. Now one hands goes to your wet pussy, rubbing, stroking, caressing your clit, and your mouth opens wider: “Ohhhhh... umpff... ohhhhh... umpff... ohhhhh... umpff... OHHHHH... UMPFFFF!”

I feel your body stiffen, just like when you came earlier, and I increase my pace, fucking your tight ass faster and faster. Your body writhes, your breath gasping, your hands grabbing at my arms, nails digging into me, your mouth open without sounds as my cock swells, throbbing inside you. My back arches and I thrust deep inside your ass, my head back, your nails ripping my arms as my cum starts up my shaft, cock swelling bigger and bigger, your ass tight around me, Your pussy spasms as you cum, mouth open but no sounds coming out as my cum shoots deep inside your ass, filling you with a burning hot feeling, and I collapse on you, your legs wrapped around my shoulders, cock sliding out of your wet ass, cum dripping to the floor down my legs. 

We both slip into sexual unconsciousness from the intensity of our sex. I vaguely hear moans, and feel my cock sliding against your body and we groan and move slightly. I feel your lips against my ear, moist breath still gasping, then your soft voice, “Oh Dean, ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I lift you off of the table, a long smear of cum beneath your ass and pick up your robe to wrap around you, carrying you to the bedroom. We slip under the covers, both restless, our bodies sore and satiated, then curling up together, our arms and legs wrapped around each other. “Ummmmmmm,” you murmur. “Glad you locked yourself out” as we fall asleep.



Cold As Ice Ch. 01



The chronological order of my stories is as follows:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series, The Swap series, Interludes 6-10, The Murdered Football Player Series, Case of the Black Widow series, Teresa's Christmas Story, The Case of the Black Badge series, A Case of Revenge series, Teresa's Summer Race, The Trilogy series, Dark Side Of The Force series, Caught In The Act series, The Phyllis Files 1-2, Case of the Murdered Bride series, The Credit Card Caper series, The Phyllis Files 3, The Hot Wives Investment Club series, Seriously Inconvenienced series, Case of the Paper Trail series, Christmas Mystery Theater, The Porno Set Mystery series, The Medical Murder Mystery series, The Eightfold Fence series, The Phyllis Files 4, Pale Morning Light series, Silverfish series.

Cold As Ice, Ch. 01

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

*****

Part 1 - Prologue 

Saturday, March 28th. The project was started! The ground was cleared and work was beginning. Piles were being driven into the mountainside for the construction of The "New" Cabin. It was going to have a steel frame, which was unusual for a house but necessary because of the weight of the large, bulletproof windows that would give such scenic vista views of the Town below. The walls would be insulation-filled concrete, with Hardiplank on the outside to make it look like a rustic cabin. Inside would be drywall, light colored so that the rooms were not as dark as the old Cabin's rooms had been.

The space inside was more efficiently planned, so that space was not wasted and every part of the house could be better used. It would be an A-frame as viewed from Town, with the slanting roof coming down nearly to the ground. On each side would be one-car garages. As one looked at the house from the driveway (opposite the deck and Town-side view), the right side garage went into the kitchen, while the left side would go into a little room that would be my den and office... and that is where there already was the secret entrance to the wine cellar, which Old Man Bonniker had dug literally into the mountain. It was a safe room as well, and even more than that: I could put stuff in there that I didn't want found.

The large walk-in closet to the master bedroom would be on the right side instead of the left, over the kitchen. Inside that closet, at the end of the house facing the deck, a small space had a circular staircase that was only 30 inches wide, barely enough to fit a person. I got that idea from President Thomas Jefferson's home 'Monticello' in Virginia; he believed in efficiency and his stairs were only 24 inches wide. Laura and I were both physically larger than he was, so I had to plan for that. The staircase came from the attic room and down to the main floor between the walls of the greatroom and kitchen, where the double fireplaces had been in the old Cabin. Aside from an unusual thickness of the wall, no one would realize it was there. But most importantly...

... we would never again be trapped in our bedroom in the event of a fire or home invasion.

Part 2 - Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend 

"Can you get us a few moments with the Commander?" Teresa asked at 9:00am Monday, March 30th. "I've got something big, and it'll save time if I tell you both at the same time."

Cindy made a quick call to Helena French, the Commander's assistant. "Okay, let's go, but give me the Cliff's Notes real quick before we get there." Teresa did so, both women knowing that the Commander expected Ross to be aware of the situation before bringing Croyle into his office.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Okay, Croyle, whaddya got?" I asked as two of Crowbar's Angels came into my office, completing the set. Tanya Perlman was already there. I had Teresa and Cindy sit down in the chairs in front of my desk.

"We think someone is trying to smuggle diamonds into the County." Teresa said. "We were working on a drug ring, and 'Chris Pervert' came across a C.I. who told him that the drugs were cover for a diamond shipment."

"So Detective Christopher Purvis has been getting some work done, eh?" I said, then asked Teresa pointedly. "And why are you of all people using a nickname like that?" Tanya was trying hard to suppress a giggle.

"I'm aware of what people call me." Teresa shot right back. "And they can go fuck themselves and the horse they rode in on." I just shook my head, but couldn't resist grinning, and Tanya lost the battle and began laughing out loud. 'Teresa Cunt' Croyle just did not care, and in that respect she was a lot like me. One reason I like having her in charge of Vice.

As Teresa playfully slapped Tanya on the shoulder, I examined the report Teresa had made. As she gave some details about it, I could see that Weinstein, the Jewish club owner in the southern part of the Tenderloin District, was linked to it. And the warehouse involved, which was near Weinstein's club, was owned by a shell company that my research had revealed was ultimately owned by one Town & County Councilman Thomas P. Cook, ostensibly for legitimate business purposes. 

"So why smuggle diamonds into our Town?" I asked. "Why not into the City?"

Teresa replied "We have several diamond sales outlets in the County, sir. For one thing, we have a University, which means a lot of college guys buy engagement rings. The rich executives buying for their trophy wives is another. Except for the sheer size of the City, the diamond stores here do the most business in the State."

"I see." I said.

"Another thing, sir," said Teresa, "is that they may be shipping through here on their way to the City. The SBI and FBI are all over the direct Southport-Midtown-City route like a wet blanket. So they route further west, straight up to here, maybe even going over the State line. At any rate, like the drug routes, these guys are coming through here and I'd like to bust their chops."

"Well, diamonds are a girl's best friend, eh, ladies? Okay, plan the raid, coordinate with SWAT if you need to and Cindy or I will give them authority to go. Just let Cindy and me know right before 'go' time."

"Yes sir." Teresa said. "It'll be soon, maybe tomorrow night."

Part 3 - Rumors, Innuendo... Sex... 

Vice Detective Julie Newton and her sister Yvonne, who was ADA Paulina Patterson's assistant, sat down for lunch at the soup and salad restaurant, sitting at a table with a view of the lake on the same Monday, March 30th. It was still too cool to sit outside, but the beautiful day showed promise of the warmth of a new Spring. One could tell they were sisters, but also could see the difference between them as they sat together. Julie was very lithe, almost waifish, but her legs were shapely and her legs and ass looked good when she wore high heels. Yvonne was just a bit stockier and toned from exercise, and she had the gorgeous legs of a dancer.

"So, Yvonne, how is Helena doing?" Julie asked, referring to Commander Troy's assistant, who shared the same anteroom with Yvonne.

"She is the sweetest lady." Yvonne said. "She's so elegant and charming, and she's very efficient at her work. But you know she goes into the Commander's office around lunchtime almost every day and closes the blinds to the windows. And he's a much happier man after she comes back out. Paulina and I are sure he's banging her, and I think Paulina's jealous about it, just a little bit."

"I'm not surprised, about Helena, that is." said Julie. "Did you know that she and her husband are swingers?"

"No! Get out!" Yvonne replied, her face showing surprise. "Her? She's so refined, and so classy."

"She's part of that Libertines group of swingers, and they are the classy ones." Julie replied. "Commander Troy and his wife are part of that group, also. You know his wife is the sex professor at the University. They're discreet about it but they swing, too."

"I'd heard that Commander Troy and his wife had an open marriage." said Yvonne. "Is it true that he's called the 'Iron Crowbar' because his cock gets very very hard when he gets an erection?" Both women giggled.

"So I've heard, but I don't think I'll be finding out." Julie said. "The other reason, which Lt. Croyle told me about, is that he used a crowbar to beat the crap out of a Russian mobster not long after he came to the Police Force here. Lt. Perlman gave him the nickname and it stuck."

"I heard he was sticking her, too." Yvonne said, and Julie nodded. Yvonne then asked "He hasn't done it with Cindy, has he? That's the going rumor."

Julie laughed. "It's a pretty open secret now that Lt. Ross is a lesbian. She's engaged to Jenna Stiles. I don't think he's banged Ross, nor Lt. Croyle. Now 'Teresa Cunt' has been banging the Commander's nephew Todd. Word is that Teresa had an affair with Todd's brother Jack some years ago. Jack was murdered, and that was the Iron Crowbar's first big case after he got here." Julie gave the details of the Case of the Murdered Lovers.

"Wow." Yvonne said, "I had no idea, especially about Teresa. How do you know all this stuff?"

"I keep my eyes and ears open." Julie said adroitly. "And a Police Station is full of rumors and innuendo... the walls talk. So, what's going on with Paulina and the District Attorney's office?"

"Not all that much." Yvonne said. "At least for Paulina: she says the Iron Crowbar and Lt. Perlman close cases so decisively that she either doesn't have to go to trial or it's an easy spoon-feeding to the jury. Jenna Stiles, on the other hand, is about to pull her hair out. That guy Sharples fucks up more cases than they get convictions on. She's about ready to kill him, as is D.A. Krasney. He's a good D.A., but he's elected and he's tuned to the politics of the success rate of convictions. Sharples is 'bad for business', says Mr. Krasney."

"And then there's Gor-don, Jenna's paralegal." Yvonne continued. "He's a good paralegal, but Commander Troy and Lt. Ross hate him. Cindy even told Jenna that if Gor-don ever came to their house, she, Cindy, would shoot him on sight as a home invader. So Jenna can't work with him at her home. Jenna just doesn't understand the animosity."

"I can tell you this." Julie said. "Gor-don showed some attitude, and especially towards the Commander. The one thing you cannot do around this Police Department is show the Iron Crowbar attitude. Commander Brownlee did, and he got fucked up... bad. I heard that Troy didn't even take his crowbar into the room when he went after Brownlee, but it was a really bad day for Brownlee when Troy was done with him."

"I heard that, too." said Yvonne. "And Commander Troy got in trouble with the Sheriff over it, too. I heard that the Commander almost killed Brownlee because Brownlee hit Cindy Ross."

"Yes." Julie said. "You asked if the Commander was banging Ross. No, they're not like that, but they are very close. She's like family to him, and God have mercy on anyone that fucks with the Iron Crowbar's family."

Their food was served, and they talked more gossip as they ate. As they got up to go, Julie asked "Do you think the Commander is fucking Helena right now?"

"I'd bet on it." Yvonne replied. "She went into his office and closed the blinds just as I was getting up to come get you for lunch...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Helena French straightened out her dress, then took a step up to me. She slid her arms around my neck and gave me a deep, wet kiss.

"Mmm, Don," she said dreamily, her eyes sparkling, her smile beautiful, "that was some of the very best sex I have ever had. You really fucked the hell out of me. I don't know what got into you..." she paused to kiss me again, then finished "... but I hope it gets into you every time you get into me."

"It was because you're so damn beautiful and sexy." I replied, letting my arms wrap around my assistant's waist and hold her. It had indeed been some very hot sex.

When Helena came in and began closing the blinds, I looked at her. She was wearing a clingy blue dress with brownish stripes, the same one that had been the object of a Facebook meltdown over whether a dress was blue and brown or gold and white. Helena was also wearing very high heel blue pumps that matched the dress, and her legs and ass looked magnificent.

"Don, honey," she said as she came around my desk to where I was sitting, "I have been unable to think of anything but coming in here and getting you balls deep into me." Her voice was husky and her eyes practically glowed with the desire for sex.

We often had quickies in the office. Sometimes Helena would bend over the desk and I would pump her from the rear, enjoying the feeling of her sweet ass smacking into my hard groin. Sometimes, like today, Helena lay down on my desk on her back... definitely an incentive for getting paperwork done and keeping my desk clean. I would eat her tasty pussy and then fuck her.

This time, Helena wanted to give me head. I certainly let her. She was on her knees between my legs as I sat in my chair, and she quickly had my cock out. It soon was throbbing with iron hardness as I felt Helena's wickedly hot mouth engulf my thick inches until my balls were pressing into her chin.

As Helena fellated me, I remembered the incredibly hot blowjob my sister Elizabeth had given me. That had become a recurring memory that would get me off very quickly, and I realized that I was about to come in Helena's mouth. I did the only thing I could.

"Like down on the desk, Helena." I said. She did, raising her legs as I reached up under her skirt and slid her blue lace panties down her shapely, sensuous legs. I then sat back down in my chair and began eating her pussy. I spent long moments letting my tongue swirl over her slit, sucking on the swollen labes, then fastening my mouth to her and delving my tongue in as far as I could get it. I licked the upper wall of Helena's pussy as I sucked hard, hearing her groan. As I continued my oral assault on her sweet pussy, I let my tongue slide up and begin slashing at her engorged clit until I had her nearly flying off the desk. I felt her cunt muscles clutch at least one time as she gasped. 

I stood up and aimed my iron hard cock at Helena's cunt, then shoved forward. Helena groaned as I sank my meat down into her until I bottomed out and our pelvises met. After withdrawing, I shoved into her again, feeling my balls smack against her asscheeks.

Our coupling was deep, wet, and intense. We didn't have much time and were already aroused, so I fucked Helena with short, stabbing thrusts, not withdrawing very much. Sure enough, I felt my nut rising just as Helena's cunt clamped down hard on my cock. I did not try to hold back and just let it all go, and with a deep grunt I filled the lovely woman's cunt with my hot load...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was still feeling the pleasing lassitude of the sex with Helena when I got back from lunch. I could still smell the Febreeze that had been sprayed to take out the musk smell of sex. But I also detected the scent of certain perfumes, and almost before I saw them I knew that Cindy Ross and her sister Molly Evans were sitting on the sofa of my office, waiting for me.

Closing the door, I studied the two women, though they hardly realized they were being observed. Molly's cheeks were rosy and she had a bright sparkle in her eyes. Cindy looked half-happy and half-annoyed. The deduction was easy to make.

"Congratulations!" I said. "So, when is the baby due?"

Molly burst out laughing while Cindy just had this 'How does he do that?' look on her face. Molly stood up and hugged me warmly, which of course was returned warmly.

"November." Molly said. "Congratulations, yourself! Are you happy?"

"Ecstatic." I said.

"So," Cindy said, "how did you know? I just found out this morning when Molly showed up."

"And that's exactly one of my observations." I said. "The fact Molly is here suggested she had some news that she wanted to tell either me or you, and personally. Her cheeks are rosy; I'd be dull indeed if I couldn't see that. And you, Ms. Crowbar 2, have that look on your face that you get when your scruples are being sullied. Your sister being impregnated by a married man does sully those scruples of yours..."

"No, I am happy for you both." Cindy said. She got up and surprised me by giving me a very warm hug...

Part 4 - April Fools 

At 1:30am on Wednesday, April 1st, Lt. Teresa Croyle watched through binoculars, observing the truck pull into the warehouse in the warehouse in the Tenderloin District. With her was Senior Sergeant Hugh Hewitt and an eight man SWAT squad, as well as Detective Tim Geiger and Detective Christopher Purvis.

"Okay, there's the truck." she said. "Let's go!" The team moved forward to the open bay door, ready to charge inside!

"POLICE! FREEZE!" shouted a voice. Teresa's eyes widened in shock... that wasn't her group! She gave the signal and her team rushed in, using proper procedures for clearing a potentially hostile area. It only took a few seconds to realize that the raid was over before it had begun.

Teresa walked into an open area where five men in workman's overalls were being held at gunpoint by four Town & County Police officers. They were sitting around a large red and white picnic cooler, full of mostly ice and some water, and stuffed with beer bottles. The five men had been sitting around the ice chest in folding chairs, drinking beers. They were now on their knees with their hands on their heads.

Sergeant McCombs was one of the officers that had jumped Teresa's claim on the raid. With him were Patrol Officers Jermaine Davis and Justin Hendricks. Teresa knew Hendricks was not only overweight, he was one officer the Commander had his eye on as potentially dirty. Jermaine Davis was black, and the 'jury was out' on whether he was dirty or just had had the bad luck to get in with bad people like McCombs and Hendricks. But none of that was on Lt. Croyle's mind. It was the fourth person, who had led the raid, that had her attention.

Standing on the other side of the five perps, wearing a trenchcoat and a wilted fedora hat, was Town & County Vice Detective Leonard 'Sergeant' Sharples.

"What the fuck is going on here, Sharples?" Teresa asked angrily as the SWAT team came into the area along with the other Vice Detectives.

"I just got information that a smuggling operation was going down here." Sharples replied matter-of-factly. "I emailed you, but had to move quickly to apprehend the criminals."

Teresa looked over the five men, recognizing one of them. "Why, Dirty Lennie!" she said sarcastically to the long-haired, unkempt man she knew all too well. "I'd think you wouldn't risk showing your ugly face around here, knowing the Iron Crowbar is just itching to give you a beatdown." Dirty Lennie had shown up in the periphery of crimes before, particularly in the 'Murdered Chessplayer' and 'Black Badge' cases.

"Bring it on, bitch." Lennie said. "I'm ready for that faggot any time he wants a fight." Teresa grinned: such bravado from criminals usually did not end well... for said criminals.

"Okay, Sharples," she said, her grin vanishing as she had to address the problem-child Detective, "what are they smuggling and where is that contraband?" She was examining her emails as she spoke.




Cold As Ice Ch. 01



"Supposedly drugs," said Sharples. "Why are you here, Lieutenant?"

Teresa ignored the question and replied with one of her own: "Sergeant, where is your warrant for the raid?"

"YOU have one, don't you Lieutenant? That'll cover us." Sharples replied, something of a smirk on his face. McCombs grinned at the look of disgust on Teresa's face.

"You sent this email two minutes before the raid started, Sharples!" Croyle snarled. "That's unacceptable. You're going to be suspended for this."

"Detective Sharples acted correctly, Lieutenant." McCombs called out. "He notified-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, MCCOMBS!" Teresa shouted, causing everyone to look over at them. "You speak to me only when spoken to, Sergeant! Shut your fucking mouth NOW!"

"Oooh, temper, temper!" McCombs teased, then snarled "You can't talk to me that way-" He shut up when he noticed eight SWAT officers swinging their weapons around... to point at McCombs. He wisely shut up.

"Purvis," Teresa said, "call in a Crime Lab team. All the K-9 Corps dogs, too. See if you can find any contraband. Interview these suspects. Sharples, what the hell are you doing?" Sharples was removing beers from the cooler.

"Looking to see if anything besides beer is in this cooler." said Sharples. Teresa couldn't fault him for that one, saying nothing as Sharples dipped his hand in the ice-water mixture. "Nothing there. Lieutenant, you might want the Crime Lab to analyze these beers to see if its really beer in them. McCombs, give me a hand with this." He and McCombs took the ice chest towards the door as Teresa turned and began giving the other officers instructions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I'm telling you, Lieutenant," said Dirty Lennie, "we're allowed to to sit back and have a couple of beers before going home after our shift is over. Beats going to a bar and getting jacked by their high prices. We were just kicking back when you guys came swarming in. There ain't nuthin' goin' on here. You got it all wrong."

"You better hope and pray that we do, Lennie." Teresa said. It was nearly 3:00am, and nothing had been found. "The last thing you want is for me to haul you to jail, where the Iron Crowbar will be waiting for you." She saw Geiger approaching.

"Ma'am, all the stories match." he said. "They say they worked the 2nd shift, then sat around having a beer like they always do before going home. They all said this was easier than trying to meet at a bar. The Crime Lab hasn't found anything, and the dogs haven't found any drugs or explosives."

"Shit." Teresa said quietly. "Okay, transport these bozos to Precinct Two's holding cells, but we'll have to let them go in the morning if we don't find anything."

"Two of them have already demanded we let them call their lawyers," said Purvis, walking up, "and they're demanding to either be arrested on a warrant or be let go. They're pretty knowledgeable about the law."

"Drug perps usually are." Teresa said. "But we can detain them on suspicion, based on the warrant for the raid. But we do have to let them call their lawyers at the Station. Go, take them to Precinct 2 and let them 'lawyer up' over there."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" blared the lovely redhead reporterette at 7:00am sharp. "Channel Two News has learned that the Town & County Vice Squad raided a warehouse in the southern part of Town, but came up empty-handed. Detective Sergeant Sharples of the Vice Division spoke with me earlier..." The film of Sharples telling Bettina that no drugs had been found was played. Sharples was saying that sometimes raids end up producing nothing, but that he would continue to investigate and hoped the next raid would prove more fruitful...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Sir, I don't know what happened." Teresa Croyle said. "It was good intel, damn good. We had no trouble getting the warrant. And then, there was just nothing there. Sharples only got there seconds before we did, as near as I can tell."

"I agree, it was good intel." I said. It was 7:15am and Teresa and Christopher Purvis were in my office, sitting in the chairs at my invitation. Coffee had been poured and was being consumed as I continued: "Two independent sources confirming it, and then Sharples was there too, probably getting something from his own sources. By the way, did the Crime Lab check the beer bottle contents?"

"Yes sir. It was beer." said Purvis. "Sharples was looking for drugs, and we didn't find so much as an aspirin or a leaf of weed, much less anything more. We, of course, were looking for diamonds, but the truck that had just come in and its contents came up clean. We'd have to search every box in that warehouse if they were hidden there, but the intel was that they were coming in on that truck. We've impounded the truck, and the Lab guys are taking it apart to the wires and bolts. They know where to look, including behind the speedometer and such hiding places. Nothing so far."

"Yeah, this one was just a 'bad Buddha'. Happy April Fools' Day to us." I said. "You guys still did good, and I want you to keep your eyes and ears open and see if we can get the next one."

"Think there will be a next one, sir?" Teresa asked, her voice matching the skeptical look on her face.

"Maybe." I said. "We might have spooked them off, but at the same time this might have been a dry run or a false flag, and they'll go with another shipment soon, in another way. We can only hope for that, and get them next time. In the meantime, check any sources that have knowledge of who was supposed to receive the gems and see if they got their shipments. Okay, Purvis, go home and get some sleep. Croyle, you and I have one more item of business. Go get Sharples and escort him in here."

"Yes sir." said Teresa. She and Purvis left the office and I called Cindy Ross out of the MCD room to sit in. Moments later, Teresa had a whining Sharples in tow.

"What the heck, Commander?" Sharples complained. "I ain't done nothing wrong."

"Oh really?" I said. "Not giving your Vice Lieutenant ample and timely notice is the same as not giving notice at all. You also didn't get a warrant, and only Lt. Croyle happening to have one saved you from an illegal warrantless raid. I also want the full story on how you developed the intel to make the raid, and why you didn't come to Lt. Croyle, Lt. Ross or myself before going on that little rogue raid."

"My intel came from a C.I., Commander," snarled Sharples, "and you know I can't and won't tell you who that is, per protocols. As to the rest, I want a Union rep before I discuss that or answer any questions." At that, Cindy rolled her eyes, and Teresa looked like she wanted to find a crowbar and use it on the overweight Sharples.

"Why do I suspect..." I did not finish the sentence but picked up my phone on my desk. "Helena," I said into it, "when the Union rep comes in, send him straight on in." Hanging up, I said "I know you've called him already, Sharples."

Sharples was about to sit down, but I stopped him. "I didn't say you could sit down, Sharples. You'll remain standing until the Union rep gets here."

"Whatever, Commander." Sharples said. Seconds later, the door opened and in walked the Union rep, and older man that looked like he was once a thug for Senator 'Coffin' Cerone in Southport, but now wearing a very expensive suit.

"Commander," said the Union rep, "are you harassing this officer again?"

"You know I'm not." I said. "He's not bleeding." The rep looked at me as if I'd said something dirty about his mother, mixed with total shock. I then said "All right, state your case before I get bored and kick you out."

"Detective Sharples acted appropriately." said the rep. "He notified his superior before making the raid--"

"Three minutes beforehand is not notifying me in advance!" Teresa broke in, worn to anger.

"The regulations don't state how far in advance he should tell you, Lieutenant." snarled the rep. "And I'll thank you not to interrupt me again."

"And I'll thank you not to address my Lieutenant in that manner again." I told the rep. "She's right."

"Again, Commander," insisted the rep, "the regulations only state advance warning, not how far in advance. Detective Sharples developed a lead and had to act quickly upon it. Why, Commander, you do want your officers to solve crimes and arrest the criminals... don't you?"

"Sharples' actions needlessly put the lives of officers at risk." I replied. "Including his own life. I don't want an officer getting hurt or worse because this guy can't do the right thing and notify his superiors in an ample amount of time beforehand. And I haven't even started on his lack of obtaining a warrant yet."

"There was a warrant for the raid, provided by Lt. Croyle." said the rep, his voice smooth and oily. "It covers Detective Sharples, and you have nothing there."

"We'll see about that." I said. "I'm going to-"

"This is just another persecution of this officer doing his job, and doing a very good job." said the rep, cutting me off as he knew what I was about to do.. "We've had to grieve your persecutions of him several times already, Commander. I know you're jealous of the fine job he's doing, but-"

"You're full of shit, asshole." said Cindy. "The Commander's record makes Sharples look like the fat piece of shit he is-"

"You're out of line, little girl." said the rep, his voice not angry but amused and reproving, as if he were reprimanding a child.

"So are you, mother fucker." I said with cold anger to the rep, standing up behind my desk. "If you address Lt. Ross like that again, I'll whip your fucking ass so bad you'll never walk right again, regardless of the consequences." He again looked at me with a shocked face, and this time he could see in my eyes that he'd crossed the line.

I said "I'll decide whether or not to suspend Sharples within 24 hours, but for now, this is a direct order in the Union rep's presence, to be followed by a written order from the Acting Chief of this Police Force, supplementing the regulations: Detective Sharples, you are not to conduct a raid upon anyone at any time, unless you have notified your superiors and gotten their permission, and have done so at least one hour in advance. Furthermore, you will conduct no raid at any time without having properly obtained your own warrant in a proper manner beforehand. Am I clear, Sharples?"

"I will follow the written regulations." said Sharples. "I will conduct raids upon probable cause, as any other officer is expected to do."

"That's insubordination." said Teresa Croyle. "Commander, I request that you suspend Sharples for that."

"Detective Sharples is correct, Commander." said the Union rep. "The Union will fully support his actions last night, his statement this morning, and there will be a grievance filed for your persecution of him today."

"So be it." I said. "Sharples, you're on restricted duty until the grievance is decided and settled. You're to work at your desk only, and you are prohibited from carrying a service weapon or using a firearm while on restricted duty. You will turn in your service weapon to the Armorer immediately upon leaving this office, or you can leave it here with me and I'll give it to him. Either way, you're on desk duty. Lt. Croyle, Lt. Ross, escort Sharples to the Armorer."

"Don't bother." said Sharples. He took his service weapon out, carefully and slowly, and placed it on my desk. I unloaded it as Sharples said "I might as well go home until the grievance is heard."

"Have a nice day." I said derisively, a dismissal that included the Union rep. He left with Sharples.

"Cindy, take this to the Armorer." I said. She took the gun, magazine and bullets downstairs to the secure areas where the Armorer was.

"Thank you, sir." said Teresa. "Please do suspend him, though."

"He'll be back by Friday morning." I said. "Enjoy the two days of peace."

"What do you mean he'll be back?" Teresa asked. "He didn't get a warrant, he was insubordinate to you..."

I held up my hand. "Teresa," I said, "they're going to have the grievance hearing tomorrow if not today, and he'll be found to have followed regulations and have done nothing wrong. The Union will want me censured for my actions against him, but the arbiter won't bother with that. He'll just say Sharples is on full, unrestricted duty again, with his gun. They'll say that your warrant covered his actions, which technically is true as much as I hate it. Once again, he skates by."

"God fucking damn it!" Teresa gasped. "How the fuck can we get this son of a goddamned bitch out of here?"

"Patience, my friend." I said, leaning back in my chair. "In the meantime, what I want you to contemplate is this: why does the Union so aggressively support Sharples? Why him? And then I want you to contemplate, and then quietly investigate, how Sharples found out about your raid and jumped your claim, so to speak..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Later that day, I had a visit from Myron Milton in my office. Cindy was there to hear the story as I had Myron sit down.

"It looks like Sharples simply accessed the files." Myron said. "Didn't try to hide it, either. He just went in and looked at them."

"I guess they're standard security," I said, "and anyone in Vice can look at them?"

"That's correct, sir, but it didn't matter." said Myron. "Lt. Croyle has tried to find ways to cut off Sharples from having access, but he's filed grievances with the Union whenever she cuts him off formally, and when she compartmentalizes things on a 'need to know' basis, someone keeps giving Sharples access. Sometimes it's Deputy Chief Brownlee himself, but sometimes it's someone we really can't trace. Maybe Sonali is doing it, but that would mean she's better than Mary and I think she is."

"And in any case," I said, "if we try to hit Sharples with accessing unauthorized data, he simply says it's Vice data, he's part of Vice and legitimately accessed it as part of his job. We just cannot get anything on the son of a bitch."

"It shouldn't be this hard to get rid of that clown." Cindy lamented, her voice as cold as the ice blue of her eyes. "Even with the Union backing him up. There should be some way to get rid of him."

"Hell," I said, "there are incidents in the Federal Government of people actually breaking regulations but not being fired for years because of red tape. In our case, Sharples colors within the lines... just barely, but he stays within the lines. So, Myron, anything else?"

"I took the liberty of checking his Police cellphone, which Internal Affairs keeps logs of... and they do that for all of our police cellphones, as well." Myron said.

"Is nothing sacred?" asked Cindy in a joking but withering voice.

"No ma'am, nothing that is police issue is private at all." replied Myron, straight deadpan, as if Cindy were being serious. "As to Sharples, his police cellphone is the only one he's known to use. He sent the email to Lt. Croyle, then sent a one-word text to Sergeant McCombs. Just a capital letter 'O'. Just the one letter."

"Maybe he was about to type something and got interrupted?" Cindy asked. "Or accidentally hit the 'send' button?"

"No ma'am." said Myron. "I've checked back. On several occasions in the past, McCombs and Sharples have sent each other texts with either an 'X' or an 'O'. Way too often to be a coincidence. And before you ask, Commander, I did check the dates and times, and they correspond to police raids or other actions at the time, including the raid on your pornstar friends back in December. That was an 'O'."

"I see, said the blind man." I said. "Okay, thanks Myron. I want you to monitor Sharples' text messages, and let me know if we get any more strange ones."

"Wilco, sir." Myron said. He excused himself and left.

"Wow, something we can use on him?" Cindy asked hopefully.

I just shook my head. "No warrant to get that information; technically, we don't have any of that. Clearly those dirty birds are communicating something, but I don't know what it is... yet."

Part 5 - The Sacred And The Profane 

On Thursday morning, April 2nd, two men were escorted into the main conference room. They looked like retired mafia thugs in expensive suits. One of them was the Union rep who had ruffled my feathers the day before. The other was a Police Union lawyer. 

I came into the room with ADA Paulina Patterson as my counsel and advisor. As I sat down, the Union lawyer said "Commander, Senator Cerone is a friend of mine. He said to tell you 'hello'."

"Give him my greetings when you see him again." I replied. Cerone and I were anything but friends; the politenesses were a mere front.

Deputy Chief Robert Brownlee was present, at the request of Sharples and the Union rep. And I was surprised when Sharples came in, not by his presence but the man who came in behind him: Sheriff Daniel Allgood was personally attending this grievance hearing.

"Why Sheriff," said the Union rep, the one that had been in my office the day before, "I'm surprised to see you here."

"Consider me to be here on behalf of the Town & County Council." said Allgood with alacrity. "They're getting tired of your officer making problems for the other officers on the Force."

"That's hardly a way to start this hearing." said the last person to enter the room: the arbiter. He was an older man that never quite looked directly at anyone, his eyes were shifty and he acted as if he knew more than anyone else in the room... and that he knew something we didn't. He was sent by the State to arbitrate the hearing, and I knew the game was rigged for the Union the moment he entered the room.

The arbiter said to Allgood "We're here to resolve our differences, not escalate them." His words fooled no one present.

I had asked that Lt. Croyle be at the hearing, but Sharples and Brownlee had vociferously and bitterly protested that, and the arbiter quickly agreed with them. Rigged, rigged, rigged, I thought to myself.

I gave my side of it, that Sharples had not informed his superiors of the raid in a timely enough manner, which endangered the lives of all the officers present including himself; that he had not gotten a warrant for the raid at all, and could not have just assumed Lt. Croyle would have one or even be on the scene; furthermore, he had been insubordinate in refusing to accept my order (which I'd since put in writing, to again be rejected by Sharples) supplementing the regulations by clarifying the timely manner and his need to get a warrant himself in the future."

The Union lawyer carefully attacked my arguments. Then the Union rep asked the arbiter to enter into the record the previous and successful grievances by Sharples when we'd tried to discipline him in the past. Despite Paulina's vociferous objections, the arbiter eagerly said he would accept that 'evidence' into the record and give it strong consideration.

The arbiter said "Does anyone have anything else to say before I give my ruling?"

"You're not even going to take time to consider this?" I asked, making a point to show the game was rigged.

"I'll make my decision in my own time, Commander," said the arbiter in an ugly, menacing voice, "and I'll thank you to not tell me how to do my job. You stick to doing your job, which you've consistently done poorly in regard to Detective Sharples."

"You're biased." said Paulina. "I demand another arbiter."

"Denied." said the arbiter simply. "Now, let's-"

"I have something to add to the record." said Sheriff Allgood. As eyes turned to him, he said "I have been in discussion with the Town & County Council over the matter of Detective Sharples' utter lack of professionalism and his failure and refusal to follow procedures. The District Attorney's office has complained formally to the Council about the cases Sharples has destroyed due to technical violations of the Constitution and the law.




Cold As Ice Ch. 01



Daniel continued: "The Council is prepared to fire Sharples, regardless of what the Police Union says, even to the point of enduring any lawsuit he attempts to file, to the point of going to jail in defiance of any Court order to reinstate him to the Force. If you try to go on strike on his behalf, we'll hire scabs. I don't know why you're trying to protect him so strongly, but the Council's patience is growing thin... as is mine."

"We're ready to give you that fight, Sheriff." said the Union rep. "And we'll see you and your Council in prison, if need be."

"You're also bluffing, Sheriff Allgood." said the arbiter. "I'll take my chances that your Council is not unanimous about this matter. After all, it was one of your Council members that had this hearing expedited."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Thomas Cook." said the Union lawyer, which drew a sharp look of rebuke from the arbiter as I nodded. Thomas P. Cook, I thought. Sharples's benefactor, as we well knew from the Porno Set Mystery case.

Everyone but me got up to leave. As they were going into the hallway, the arbiter made a point to step in front of Paulina. He tried to speak quietly but I heard what he said.

"Let me tell you something, you fucking nigger." he snarled in a low voice. "If you ever call me biased again, I'll have your fucking law license pulled and you'll never work in this State again. You better learn your place, nigger."

"What did you just call her?" I said loudly. A red crowbar was coming out, itching to be used.

"Uh, let's get out of here." the Union lawyer said, trying to keep himself between the arbiter and me. The Union rep was trying to hurry the arbiter out, as well. Brownlee's hand went for his gun as he tried to confront me, but Daniel Allgood was right behind him, his own service weapon already drawn.

"Don't do it, Robert." Allgood said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I am just looking for a reason to shoot you." Brownlee whirled, then glared at Daniel before following the Union group down the hall. Allgood re-directed me into the Chief's office as I was about to follow them...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So much for my telling you to keep cool." said Daniel as he, Paulina and I sat down in the Chief's office. "Now I'm the one escalating things with Brownlee. I really was about to shoot him if he'd drawn his gun on you. By the way, don't go after that arbiter. He can't hurt Ms. Patterson; his threats are meaningless. I think he was just trying to get you to react, Don, and it almost worked."

"No, Sheriff," I replied, very sure, "he was not thinking of me when he said that. There was no motive but pure racial hatred for Paulina in his words. I think he was surprised when I started going after him, didn't understand what was about to happen. He was wondering why the Union guys were trying to get him out of there so fast. I could see that on his face."

"The personal stuff about me aside, he was still obviously biased in this case." said Paulina. "Shall I try to use that to get another hearing?"

"Won't do any good." I said. "That whole thing was rigged from the get-go, and would be again. But it was instructive, don't you think?"

"How so?" asked Daniel.

"One State official just exposed himself as a racist." I said. "And we now know that one of our Servants of the People, Mr. Thomas Cook, is Sharples' benefactor." I did not tell them that I knew that already.

"Well, folks," I said, getting up, "if you'll excuse me, Sheriff, I have some work to do. I'll be talking with our friendly neighborhood FBI Agents this afternoon, so I won't be here at Headquarters."

"I'll be at the Courthouse, talking to Krasney." Paulina said. "That arbiter may can't do much, but Krasney needs to know if there's going to be incoming fire over me. He'll squash any shit like a bug, and he'll probably be proactive about things when I tell him what that bastard said."

And, for the record, the decision came down even before I made it out of the office to go to lunch: the arbiter ruled summarily in favor of the Union and Sharples, with a note that the SBI's Office of Ethics and Review should investigate the Town & County Police and it's senior leadership for arbitrary 'bird-dogging' (yes, he actually used that word) of Detective Leonard R. Sharples.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lunch was at the Cop Bar with Jack Muscone. To my surprise, FBI Special Agent In Charge Lester "Les" Craig was with him. Craig worked out of Southport, the major shipping and railroad transportation hub in the southern part of the State where the Rivers met. Jack was in heaven as he consumed a double cheeseburger. Craig was tall and thin, and his eating habits supported that: he was grazing on a large salad.

The owner had seen the look on my face when I came in, and brought me a plate of fried chicken with a double helping of macaroni and cheese. He said it'd make me feel better, and he was right. Macaroni and Cheese is a favorite comfort food of Your Iron Crowbar.

"Yeah, that's interesting about that guy." Muscone said when I told him about the arbiter's use of the 'n-word'. "I'll check him out for any connection to Superior Bloodlines. Sometimes big cases get cracked by small stuff like that. Now after lunch, we have something else to talk about in my office, but not here."

After lunch we went to Muscone's office and settled into chairs. "Les, fill us in on the diamond smuggling case."

Craig started in: "As you know, Don, Jack and his team have been working hard on finding something on Henry Wargrave. There has been an operation to interdict his arms shipping by the-- well, by another agency, and it's been very successful: Wargrave is having cash flow issues."

"That's what happens when he pisses off high-level CIA agents." I said. "Especially the one I sleep with every chance I get." Jack gave what was for him a laugh. Craig knew who Laura was from the faked deaths of Jack and his team operation, but it took him a moment to remember, and he looked bewildered.

"Oh, yeah... okay." said Craig. "Anyway, we developed a lead that Wargrave was trying to raise some funds by having some diamonds shipped in through Southport, which he'd distribute onwards at a good profit. He could then use that money to buy and smuggle in arms. His attempt to go through Harold Malone in Alabama ended in disaster for him when Malone was murdered. We still have no idea who did that."

"So Wargrave turned to diamonds, did he?" I asked, steering the conversation away from 'Alabama'. If Jack Muscone had not felt the need to discuss our adventures down there with Craig, I certainly had no desire to do so.

"Yes." said Craig. "Here's what's interesting. We were a bit late to the party, but we developed information that a shipment of 'ice', the diamonds, were coming into this Town on the morning of April 1st. Your people apparently developed that intel also, and actually made the correct raid on the correct location at the correct time. I still don't understand how you didn't find the diamonds. Your people got there just as the truck pulled in, and my people are sure the diamonds were on that truck."

"It wasn't for lack of trying, nor looking hard." I said. "We were wondering if it was a false flag, a distraction run while the diamonds came in somewhere else, or if it was a dry run."

"No," said Les Craig, "it was the real deal. And you guys were all over it like white on rice. That's why I can't believe they got the diamonds past you. I know your guys are good, but they didn't succeed: I got word this morning that Wargrave's agents in the City made the delivery of the diamonds, and Wargrave is already putting the money to use."

"Can you interdict that?" I asked.

"We did already." Jack Muscone said. "We were partly successful, but I fear we've alerted Wargrave to our overwatch of him in doing so."

"Good." I said.

"Good?" both agent said simultaneously.

"Yes." I said. "I think Wargrave will try to move more diamonds, and if we're lucky, he'll do it the same way again... and this time, we will not miss."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, Austin," said Henry R. Wargrave, "it seems that my wire transfer of money was cut off. Was this the Oldeeds Group or the FBI?"

"FBI, sir." said Murphy. "I had a friend check, and several of your dummy accounts have been discovered and are being monitored. The affected accounts are in that file folder I gave you."

Wargrave perused the file. "Wow, they're coming hard after me. Internationally, also. Any idea why I'm so suddenly on their radar?"

"No sir," said Murphy, "but with all due respect, I think they smell blood. I very discreetly contacted some of Conrad King's people. They think it's the CIA that's really gunning for you, and the FBI is just along for the ride."

"Hmmm." said Wargrave. "It's just not like them. They've always liked it when I arm both sides of a conflict; they can choose the side they want to support and make a big deal of things in the News Media."

"Sir, someone suggested another possibility to me." said Murphy. "The Oldeeds Group is gearing up to resume their smuggling operations. Underage girls and now boys, too. They may be feeding the FBI and DEA information to distract from their own operations."

"Could be," said Wargrave, "but I don't think that's it. This feels much more personal. Someone really wants to roast me on a spit... but enough of that now. Austin, we're going to need a new shipment of diamonds, at least double the size of the last one. I'll start setting up the dummy accounts, new ones, if you will contact the suppliers and arrange the transportation."

"The same ones as last time?" Murphy asked. "The cops almost interdicted us last time. I have no idea how they found out about the shipment."

"Sure, same ones." said Wargrave. "The last one went exceptionally well... and right under the Iron Crowbar's nose. Just keep it a lot more quiet this time, so that the cops don't find out. They thought they were hitting a drug operation. You might want to set up a false flag drug op, let the cops find out about that one and sting it while our guys bring the diamonds in."

"Yes sir." said Murphy, apprehensive for some reason. "And the buyers? That's a lot of merchandise to move."

"These are going to be blue-white diamonds of the highest quality. They're called 'blue ice'." said Wargrave. "They're used for research in making x-ray lasers and other weapons-grade things. Our Russian friends are most interested in acquiring some of these diamonds, as well as the Red Chinese, and I'll be making it easier for them to do so."

Murphy felt disquieted. X-ray lasers required a nuclear power source, and that meant Government power behind developing these devices. Also, arming mercenaries and radical Islamists to kill each other and themselves was one thing; selling to foreign powers to help them make weapons that could be used against the United States was another thing entirely. It was downright treason. 

Murphy began realizing just how desperate Henry R. Wargrave was becoming, and also why the FBI was coming after him so hard. This was going to turn ugly.

"One last thing, Hank." Murphy said. "We have a University Regents meeting this weekend. Big one, too, so you'll have to go into the Iron Crowbar's territory. If you want that diamond shipment over the weekend..."

"Monday night." Wargrave said. "Bring it in Monday night, early Tuesday morning." He then moved to change the subject. "Austin, you've done very well for me, especially these last few weeks and months when the heat has been on. You deserve a reward. Would you like a sweet college girl while we're in Town?"

"If it's all the same to you, Hank," Austin said, "I'd like a night with that hot older blonde you've hired in the past. Cherie, I think her name is."

"I'll set it up for tonight." Henry Wargrave said. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sun was setting over the town, and had already dipped over the ridge upon which my new Cabin would be sitting. I was watching the fishing line flick out into Reservoir Lake, hurled by an expert hand. I was sitting with Chief Griswold on the dock behind his house.

"Crowbar, you're damned good at a lot of things," said the Chief, "but fishing ain't one of 'em. You still can't throw a line for squat. Did your dad ever take you fishing when you were a boy?"

"No sir, I can't." I admitted. "And my dad never took me fishing. Pheasant and dove hunting a few times, but not fishing." I did not mention to Chief Griswold that I wasn't a big fan of fishing, though I liked hunting well enough and had gone deer hunting with Melina a number of times when we'd been married. Now it seemed that I hunted only criminals. No time to harvest food sources outside of the grocery store.

"When your son gets old enough, take him hunting and fishing." said Griswold. "Nothing bonds a father and son together like doing things like that together." He expertly flicked the fishing line back into the water. "So, Crowbar, what did you want to talk about?"

"I need your advice, Chief." I said. "There has got to be a way to get Sharples out of the Force... legally, that is, without killing him." The Chief smiled as I said "I admit I don't have a clue what to do about it."

"Is he popular with the other officers of the Force?" the Chief asked, seemingly lazily and with a disinterested voice. I was not fooled one iota.

"He's hated by his fellow Detectives, who refuse to work with him. Julie Newton is his official partner, mostly because she never goes into the field though she's qualified with a gun, and she and Sharples can ignore each other. Sharples does have some friends in the uniformed services, mostly Sergeant McCombs and that dirtbag Justin Hendricks, who may never get promoted if I can help it."

"Who hired Hendricks? And Sharples for that matter?"

"Robert Brownlee, on both." I said. "McCombs recommended Hendricks, which is one reason I smell dirt around Hendricks, so I don't really blame Brownlee on that; we hire batches of officers out of the Academy like everyone else does. But Sharples is all on Brownlee. They're not friends by any means, but Brownlee feels the need to protect his hires or he thinks he'll look bad."

The Chief grunted at that, a laugh for him. "He looks real bad in other ways, and that's what he thinks about? Okay, seriously, Brownlee hired Angela Harlan, too... not a good record for him on that batch of hires."

"Well, Martin Nash was a good hire." I said, "but I understand that was your doing, Chief."

"Not much gets by you, Crowbar. Nash was a great hire... but not my best one." Griswold said, meaning me.

"We've got a long way to go before you can say that." I said.

"Modesty is a human trait, Commander." Griswold replied, in the form of one of his favorite Klingon quotations. "I will excuse it."

"So speaking of 'excusing'," I said, "what can you recommend about Sharples?"

"Back in my day, when things were more 'old school'," said the Chief, "there would be an 'understanding' about an officer that didn't fit in. He wasn't spoken to, might find himself on the business end of practical jokes. If things got worse, he'd find the air was let out of his tires at the worst possible times, he wouldn't get backup on missions, stuff like that. And on the most rare of occasions, he'd get the police equivalent of a 'blanket party'."

Griswold continued: "As I understand it, the Union is supporting Sharples far more strongly than they should be. You've remarked on it already, and I agree that it's a lot more than just trying to protect a bad officer or just tweaking you. The Union does hate to have to expend so much energy on this one guy; it hurts them when they have to go to bat for other officers and they've already expended that political capital."

I nodded in understanding as the Chief flicked his line into the lake again.

"I could suggest two things." said Griswold. "First, there is a separate Union for Captains and higher, and you're aware of that. Captains and higher are political appointees in the New York Police Department, the City Police Department, and even our smaller Police Force. As you know, Captains are not subjected to many of the same regulations as lower ranking officers, even Lieutenants ." The Chief paused to let that sink in, and I realized like a punch between the eyes that I'd just been given a huge piece of information.

"Yes, Crowbar." said the Chief, seeing the understanding in my eyes. "Anyway, I would suggest you use the Police Captains' Union against the regular officers' Union, but Brownlee will fight you every step of the way."

"And he is clinging to them like Sharples clings to the regular Police Union." I replied. "So what's the other idea?"

"Use him against himself." said Griswold. "Give him assignments he'll hate, but he'll have to do or be subject to discipline. Seemingly lay off him, but give him plenty of rope to hang himself."

"Like Teresa is trying to do now." I said. And then I understood again.

"Yes, Crowbar." said the Chief. "It is indeed possible that Ms. Croyle sat in that chair you're sitting in some weeks ago, and asked the very same questions. Yes, she one-upped you, and I know you won't come down on her for going over your head."

I grinned. "No, not on this one. I have a feeling her best buddy, who carries a blue crowbar around, might have been an influence upon her in that matter."

"Not much gets by you, Crowbar." Griswold said affably. He retrieved the fishing line for the final time. "It's getting dark. Let's go inside, and I insist you have some supper with us."

"Thank you, sir, but I can't stay too late." I replied. "I've got a dog to feed now."

Part 6 - The Queen of Diamonds 

Saturday, April 4th. The bedsprings squeaked in protest as the beautiful woman rode the man beneath her, slamming her sweet ass down onto his cock as he tried to match her by thrusting up into her. Her long black hair cascaded down her back and her very ample breasts bounced on her firm chest, her abs seeming to ripple as she fucked his six inch cock with everything she had.

"Fuck me, Thomas, fuck me!" yelled Karen Warner Harlan. "Give it to me, damn you!"

"I'm trying, babe!" Thomas P. Cook gasped. He gripped Karen's hips in his strong hands and thrust up into her, redoubling his fucking efforts, but it just seemed to never be enough to satisfy her. Even the viagra he'd taken was not enough; this was their third fuck and Karen had come around his thrusting, throbbing cock many times, but she still craved more.

As the couple rutted hotly on the hotel bed, the other woman watched from inside the closet. Elizabeth was a sensuous woman, not a crude nymphomaniac like Karen. As Elizabeth watched, she allowed the feelings of pleasure to course through her body. She could feel her dress on her body, feel the fabric caressing her breasts. She could feel the straps of her high heels straining against her elegant feet as she wiggled them. She felt her fingers sliding under her lace panties and rubbing her swollen labes, and almost groaned when her bird finger slid deep into her sopping wet pussy. She massaged the upper wall of her vagina, seeking that sweet G-spot that would shoot sparks of pleasure through her when it was stimulated.

"Oh God, I'm coming!" gasped Thomas P. Cook. It was his third climax, and the volume of semen he fired into the tip of the condom was not significantly large. Spent, he relaxed, no longer caring about the woman gyrating above him. She was simply too much for him to handle.

"Can't keep up?" Karen asked wearily.

"I don't think any man can untie that knot inside you." Cook replied.

"So," Karen said, still sitting on top of Cook, her weight pressing down on him, "you'll just have to satisfy me in another way." Virtually unnoticed was her hand reaching behind her, cupping Cook's balls.




Cold As Ice Ch. 01



"What's that, baby?" he asked, not really interested, having worked out his nut three times.

"Diamonds, baby." Karen said. "That shipment of diamonds coming in? I want you to sell them to me instead of your other client."

"What?! You gotta be shittin' me." Cook said. Just as he was about to grab Karen's hips and fling her off of him, he felt the pressure of her hand gripping his Fruit squeeze just a bit harder, but not enough to cause pain... yet.

"Mmm, baby," said Karen, massaging the businessman's balls, "allow me to tighten your... nuts." Cook looked up at her. She was radiantly beautiful, but her eyes were cold... as cold as ice. She had her father's eyes, but Cook did not know that.

"Now let's not play games here." Karen said icily. "I know the diamonds are coming in Monday night, I have the means and backing to buy them and make it worth your while. And I've got your balls in my hand right now."

"Do you know what my client would do to me if I fucked him over like that?" Cook gasped.

"Henry Wargrave?" Karen asked wickedly. "Oh, don't worry about him. My associates and I will make sure he doesn't do anything to you. In fact, it's one of my associates that wants to hurt Wargrave by keeping these diamonds from him. So... do we have a deal?"

"You fucking bitch!" Cook gasped. He grabbed Karen to fling her off, and felt the excruciating pain of her squeezing his testicles as hard as she could. That wasn't enough to stop him, and he got up to charge her...

"That's enough, stop right there."

Cook reeled back to the bed. The attractive older woman, wearing glasses and a clingy dress, had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. The .38 Special revolver in her hand arrested his attention even further. Her face looked familiar to him... she looked like someone else he knew, but he couldn't quite place it...

"What the fuck is this?" Cook asked, his voice low and menacing, his eyes staring daggers at Karen Warner Harlan. "Blackmail? My wife knows I fuck around, and so does she. And I'm too connected for any scandal to affect my Council position."

"You've got it all wrong, Mr. Cook." said Elizabeth. "We're not trying to blackmail you, we just want some new best friends. Diamonds are a girl's best friend, dontcha know." The woman's sarcastic wit reminded Cook of the Iron Crowbar... oh, that's it, she looks like him. They must be related.

Elizabeth continued, pointing the gun at the ceiling but still ready for use, "Like my friend here said, we're offering you a deal for those diamonds. Bring them to us instead of Mr. Wargrave, and we'll pay you well, protect you from him, and give you no more trouble. Give them to him, and you and your wife will both be found in tiny pieces, after you're forced to watch her being gang-raped in front of you, all courtesy of our associate who does not take 'no' for an answer. What will it be, Mr. Cook? If you don't help us, you're 'cooked', pun fully intended..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They were in the small safehouse apartment on the other side of Town, which Thaddeus Ward of Ward Harvester kept for overnight business guests. It had been converted to apartments from a motel, as the Bypass road and hotels to the north had wiped out its business.

Elizabeth was on one double bed while Karen was on the other. Karen was using a huge dildo, thrusting it into her sodden pussy, while Elizabeth fingered her clit, slit and labes much more gently.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" Karen gasped in exasperation. "I have got to get some fucking cock!"

"I told you," said Elizabeth, "you should fuck my baby brother. His iron hard cock would have you coming in buckets."

"Oh Jesus, there is no way I'd fuck him, even if he was the last cock on the face of this earth." replied Karen, her voice full of disgust. "I'd rather fuck my brother, and you know how much I hate his fucking guts."

"Yeah..." Elizabeth whispered, enjoying her own fantasy as her fingers did the walking. Karen looked over at her, and the idea came to her ice-cold, evil mind.

"So, baby," Karen said, "how do you know how hard your brother's cock is?" She got up and eased herself onto the other bed next to the older woman, pressing into Elizabeth's left side, her fingers sliding over the woman's torso to her pubic bush. "Have you ever fucked your brother?" Her fingers slid along Elizabeth's slit, and she felt the heat and wetness of the woman's cunt."

"He... he raped me once." Elizabeth said quietly.

"And you haven't taken revenge?" Karen asked, astonished. "You haven't tried to kill him?"

"No..." Elizabeth moaned. "I hated his guts at the time, and I wanted to kill him, but I realized later that I got hot every time I thought of him fucking me..."

"Oh, does it make you hot thinking of your brother fucking you, Elizabeth?" Karen asked. One finger, then a second, slid into Elizabeth's honey hole, and Karen felt Liz's cunt clutch at the invading digits. She began fucking the older woman harshly and hotly.

"Think of him, Elizabeth." Karen urged, whispering right into Elizabeth's ear, smelling her perfume, hearing her gasps. "Think of your brother on top of you. Think of his big, hard cock plunging into you, again and again... think about how hard he is inside you... think of his bare cock fucking you, think of him getting his nut and coming inside you... oh yeah, think of your own brother shooting his load into this sweet pussy of yours..."

"OHHHHHH! UNNHH!!" Elizabeth moaned loudly. Her vagina clamped down hard on Karen's deeply probing fingers as Elizabeth came hard. Karen watched Elizabeth's luscious body shudder and shiver as her orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave, crashing into her, her nerves on ecstatic overload as the gray mist swirled behind her eyes for several seconds.

When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she saw Karen's gorgeous face just inches above hers. "Thank you." she gasped, not having any other words for the intense pleasure she had just experienced.

Karen kissed Elizabeth's mouth gently. "Don't thank me, thank your brother for that orgasm. And maybe one day your dream of making love with him will come true." Elizabeth closed her eyes and moaned, an aftershock of a smaller orgasm spasming in her pussy as the image of her brother kissing her like Karen just did while deeply fucking her filled her mind.

Karen got off the bed and went back to her own bed. "Geez, no wonder Dr. Fredricson came here to this Town. There's more incest and swinging and hot sex here than anywhere else in the world."

"Gonna fuck your brother?" Elizabeth asked, the pleasing lassitude of the aftermath of her massive climax still flowing through her, like lightning running through a cloud.

"Harrumph!" Karen snorted. "No way in hell would I let that shit-eater's cock touch me. Besides, he has that 'Miss Christianity' whore fucking his balls off like my Aunt Katherine used to do." Elizabeth said no more, she was fast falling asleep.

Still sexually frustrated, Karen turned out the lights. As she lay in bed she tried to turn over in her mind the diamond haul they were about to make. The fourth person in their group had wanted the women to make Thomas Cook do this, and solely for the purpose of fucking over Henry Wargrave. For that man to even consider fucking over someone as huge as Wargrave was ballsy enough, and Karen realized that Wargrave must've really offended her associate to have him coming after Wargrave so fiercely. Like her, her associate was as cold as ice inside his corruption-eaten soul...

To be continued.

So, dear readers, how did the perps get the diamonds past the TCPD's Finest? How will those sneaky criminals get them around the Iron Crowbar again?... or will they? And what will Henry R. Wargrave do? Solution next chapter!



Cold As Ice Ch. 02



The chronological order of my stories is as follows:

Todd & Melina series, Interludes 1-5, Sperm Wars series, Russian Roulette series, Case of the Murdered Lovers series, Case of the Murdered Chessplayer series, The Swap series, Interludes 6-10, The Murdered Football Player Series, Case of the Black Widow series, Teresa's Christmas Story, The Case of the Black Badge series, A Case of Revenge series, Teresa's Summer Race, The Trilogy series, Dark Side Of The Force series, Caught In The Act series, The Phyllis Files 1-2, Case of the Murdered Bride series, The Credit Card Caper series, The Phyllis Files 3, The Hot Wives Investment Club series, Seriously Inconvenienced series, Case of the Paper Trail series, Christmas Mystery Theater, The Porno Set Mystery series, The Medical Murder Mystery series, The Eightfold Fence series, The Phyllis Files 4, Pale Morning Light series, Silverfish series.

Cold As Ice, Ch. 01-02.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

*****

Part 7 - Amber Alert 

"This is Priya Ajmani for KSTD Five-Alive News!" shouted the lovely Indian reporterette into her microphone just outside the neighborhood where our temporary Police command center had been set up. It was getting dark on Saturday night, April 4th.

"An Amber Alert has gone out for little Marie Pressman, who has been reported missing since this afternoon by her parents." Priya reported. "Police believe the five-year-old walked away from her backyard while her parents weren't looking, and may be in the wooded areas not far from her home. The Search and Rescue Teams have been called out, as well as the Police Auxiliary, the Fire Volunteers and Auxiliary, and many citizens from the Town and County."

We had a formal, trained Search & Rescue group. They had badges like ours, but were silver instead of gold, had a seal showing a compass instead of the Great Seal of the Town & County in the middle, and "VOLUNTEER" instead of a Police or Fire Department number.

My mother would've been one of the Auxiliary Police leaders, but she was out of Town for the weekend. I was in the command center tent that someone felt the necessity of setting up, and I'd just given instructions to the many search teams. Cindy Ross was with me, as were several radio dispatch officers. The operation was going smoothly, led by Lieutenant Wes 'Coldiron' Masters of the Uniformed Officers division.

"Think we'll find her?" Cindy Ross asked.

"You tell me, Crowbar 2." I said. "Think."

"I'm not a Troy. But to your point, I don't think she walked off." said Cindy. "The Pressman's have two dogs, and I asked them if their daughter and the dogs got along. They said the dogs loved her and she loved them." I smiled and nodded, but Lt. Masters was not comprehending.

"Why is that important?" he asked.

Cindy replied: "I've observed the Commander's daughter and their new dog, Bowser. She cannot and could not walk anywhere without that dog following, and if she left the yard Bowser would be right there with her. But the Pressman's dogs did not go with little Marie. That suggests she was taken by someone."

"Yes, the dogs did nothing in the daytime." I said, paraphrasing the Conan Doyle quotation. "I agree with you, Lt. Ross. But we got an anonymous tip two hours ago that someone saw a little girl matching Marie's description was wandering in a field near here, and near Ronald Reagan Park. And KSTD had info on that tip before we could even do anything about it, and were setting up their cameras. Ergo, I called for the search and rescue operation... after all, this is what it's for."

Lt. Masters nodded, then excused himself to check in with his radio operators. Once alone, Cindy asked me quietly "Do you think this is being done to distract us?"

"I think it's for something, and this girl will be found." I replied. "KSTD is all over it; KXTC is way behind the power curve, which is strange enough. Myron said the anonymous tip came from a burner phone, and he exceeded his authority by checking and finding that the phone also called KSTD before calling the Duty Desk."

"And let's go one further." I continued. "If I were a citizen and saw a kid wandering around, I'd go get that kid, at least make sure she's okay. This anonymous tipster didn't do that... cared enough to call it in, but not enough to actually help the child. A strangeness there, my friend."

"Yep." Cindy said. "So you don't think someone is going to push some diamonds through the County while this is going on?"

"No." I said, dropping my voice. "The FBI got some info that there will be a diamond shipment Monday night. Our TCPD sources have not heard a thing, nor have our C.I.s, so I really think this is the real deal, while that first shipment may have been a dry run or a much smaller delivery. Croyle is already preparing our raid, and she's making sure nothing is written down where Sharples can hear about it."

"Good." Cindy said. "I've had about all I can take of that fat ass." Her words caused me to go into a reverie, thinking of what had happened earlier in the day...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Earlier that Saturday morning, I was playing with Carole and Bowser after breakfast when there was a call on my police cellphone. It was the Duty Desk.

"Commander," said the Duty Sergeant, "Councilman Thomas Cook's office called here, and said the Councilman expects you in his office this morning at 10:00am sharp."

"He 'expects' me there?" I asked. "He used that tone of voice?"

"It wasn't him, sir." said the Sergeant. "It was his assistant, and yes, the voice was one of an order, not a request."

"I see. Thanks for the call." I said. As I disconnected from the call, my first thought was to let Thomas P. Cook pound sand. Then I had an idea. I called Cindy Ross, and asked if she could go to the meeting with me, as I did not care to go to Cook's office alone. She agreed.

"If it were me," said Laura when I told her about the call, "I'd tell Thomas Cook to pound sand." I told her I had something else in mind, and went and got dressed (in civilian clothes) for the meeting.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the City Hall office of Councilman Thomas P. Cook, the assistant admitted me but refused to let Cindy inside. I'd told Cindy that might happen, and that she should watch the assistant as if she were a bad dog, and make her nervous.

"Ah, Commander," said Cook jovially as I came in, "thank you for coming. Have a seat. Would you care for some coffee?"

"No thank you." I said coldly. "And I must ask you to come to the point, as I am missing another appointment by coming here."

Cook looked a bit put off at my brusque lack of manners, but he came to the point: "Okay. I understand that the grievance for Detective Sharples happened yesterday. I wanted to tell you directly that it was me that had that hearing expedited. I also wanted to tell you that while some Council members have expressed a desire to separate Detective Sharples from the Police Force, that attitude is by no means a unanimous one. I for one think Detective Sharples has done a fine job and will continue to... if you stop harassing him in the performance of his duties."

He looked at me to see the effect of his words upon me, but I'd long since set my face into impassive indifference, showing nothing. If his pause was meant to allow me to say something, it didn't work; I sat silently, waiting for him, until the silence of the room became embarrassing.

"So I don't want to hear of any more problems with this Detective and with the Union in general." Cook finally continued. "Despite some illusory things said to the Sheriff, and apparently taken out of context, the Council does not want the expense nor the media publicity of a lawsuit. And remember, Commander, that you will not be Acting Chief forever, especially as you declined to accept the job full time."

At this pause, I did speak: "I have just one question, Councilman: are you speaking formally for the Council, or is this just your own opinion and words?"

"You may consider me to be speaking for several members of the Council." Cook said. "Again, this is a political issue, or is becoming one, and we do not want to have to deal with it."

"Is that it?" I asked as I got up.

"I guess so." said Cook, totally unable to determine what to do next, and not knowing if he'd made an impression upon me. "Thank you for coming." He had stood up and was now extending his hand.

"If you'll excuse me, then, I have other things to do." I said, ignoring the outstretched hand. I turned to go.

"Do be careful, Commander." said Cook, stopping me. "You hold your job at the pleasure of the Council, and a dubiously-awarded Medal of Valor, a crowbar, and solving some cases won't protect you from people that have their own political interests at heart. Oh, you may try to bluff and say you can walk away from the job, but we both know you don't want to leave it."

I slowly walked back towards the desk, as if thinking. "Mr. Cook," I said, keeping my voice unnervingly quiet, "I don't know why you're working with the Union to protect that slug Sharples, but you had better hope and pray he doesn't lead you into anything criminal that I find out about... whether or not I'm a Police Commander here, or working on political corruption issues with the State or Feds. Have a nice day, and remember to follow the law like a good citizen." Adam West (Batman) could not have been any cheesier, and Cook looked utterly shocked as I turned and left.

As Cindy and I left City Hall, I knew that if I walked back in the office I would catch Cook examining the recording device he'd used... and that the device had failed to catch the conversation, thanks to my trusty jamming device, which was getting way too much use these days...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Cindy and I had some coffee in my office at Headquarters, I talked with her about my conversation with Chief Griswold.

"He said to create an atmosphere of 'understanding' about Sharples." I said.

"I think that already exists." Cindy replied. "What else can we do?"

"I want the word put out to be very formal with his name. Do not call him 'Sergeant' and correct anyone who does so as if they're committing a sin by calling him the wrong rank. Very quietly let word filter down that Sharples is a bad seed. And assign Sharples to jobs in the Tenderloin Districts and predominately-black districts, but be sure not to let him use Precinct 2 as his headquarters office, lest he set an ugly precedent there."

"Anything else?" Cindy asked.

"This won't be as easy, but any time Sharples fucks up or causes a mission to go bad, talk to Bettina Wurtzburg on 'deep background' and let her know he's the fuck-up. Maybe we can get Sharples some bad press, and that'll intensify him as the problem child."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Back in the present, with the sun now having set and the search parties using flashlights and lanterns in the darkness. Cindy and I sat at the command center tent, listening to progress reports.

"Commander, couldn't we be at Headquarters monitoring this search?" Cindy asked.

"Yep." I replied, understanding her. "Or from Precinct 3 or Precinct 1 Headquarters. This is for Media show, to make it visibly look like we're working on it. And that's why you and I are here: to make it look like we're in charge and working on it. Yes, we're working on it anyway, but if we don't show it publicly, the Media will accuse us of apathy and indifference."

"Geez, I'm beginning to hate the Press." Cindy said.

"That puts you on the fast track to the Commander position and the Chief position." I 'warned' my partner with a grin. A blue crowbar was waved in my general direction in retaliatory response.

The Press had been denied access to the command center, and a separate tent was set up for Lt. Peterson, the Media Relations Officer, to deal with them. At about 10:00pm, I watched over there for several minutes, then turned to Cindy Ross.

"The girl will be found within ten minutes." I said.

"How do you know?" Cindy asked, looking at me as if I'd lost my mind..

"Priya Ajmani got a cellphone call, then she and her cameraman just left the Media tent and snuck out of here." I said. "They know something. Also notice that Priya stayed at the Media tent, while Bettina, John Hardwood, Amber Harris and other reporters are out with the search teams, leaving 'cubs' at the central post."

The conclusion was obvious. Cindy looked over at the Media tent, then back at me. "I'm not a Troy, but even I can see that something is not right about that."

Sure enough, just five minutes later a voice came over the police radios, saying "I've got her, I've got her!". It was Detective Leonard Sharples's voice.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The girl was relatively unharmed, but was crying and asking for her mommy. She was reunited with her parents within minutes in the glaring light of a crush of Media cameras. The family was hustled into an ambulance for a trip to the Hospital for a checkup.

The Media was buzzing, trying to get Sharples on camera as he told his story to Priya Ajmani and her KSTD cameraman. "I spotted her in this field behind us, here." he was saying. The field was a grassy patch, and behind it was a tree-lined, weed-surrounded creek that emptied into the River about a mile away. "It wasn't easy to see her, but I caught sight of the colors in her dress and investigated." He was really buttering himself up, but it was Priya's fawning and her softball questions amongst exclamations of praise that had me looking at this scene as if it were scripted and play-acted.

Have I mentioned that Cindy is not the only person with a crowbar who truly hates the Press?

To top it off, KSTD had "exclusive" coverage of Sergeant Sharples bringing the girl out of the field, and they would be showing that footage over and over and over again for the next several days as they told the Public that Sharples a "hero" over and over again.

Part 8 - Appearances 

Sunday morning, April 5th. After spending the night in the hospital for observation, little Marie Pressman was brought with her parents to the office of Dr. Laura Fredricson. If anyone was capable of working with a child and getting the answers out, while keeping the child soothed at the same time, it was Laura.

To help Laura, our dog Bowser was present. His coat was a yellow-labbish very light color, and he'd been fitted with a red bandana around his collar, making him look utterly adorable. Sure enough, little Marie took an instant liking to the dog.

"This is my friend Bowser." Laura said. "I think he likes you. Do you want to pet Bowser?"

"Yeah." Marie said, smiling brightly. "Hey Bowser!" She petted Bowser, who liked the attention as he sniffed his new friend.

While they played, Laura asked Marie some questions. "How did you leave your house?" Laura asked. "Did you walk away?"

"No." said Marie, who was a smart child. "A man picked me up and said he was taking me to Mommy."

"What did this man look like?" Laura asked. "Did he wear glasses?"

"Yeah." said Marie. "He had a big beard, too. And a funny hat."

"Was he fat or skinny?" Laura asked.

"He was fat." said Marie.

"So do you remember where you were?" Laura asked.

"No. It was a dark room. It was little." said Marie. "He put me in there with the thing like Daddy uses on the grass in the yard. He said to go to sleep, and if I peed in my pants Mommy would be mad at me. But I couldn't help it." The girl looked distressed.

"I'm not mad at you, sweetie!" Marie's mom said, hugging her.

"Marie," Laura said, "were the walls of the room wood like this table? Or metal, like that desk?"

"Wood. Like the treehouse my friend Carla's daddy made."

"Ah, that's fantastic." Laura said, impressed. "Marie, what was the man wearing?"

"A brown coat and blue pants." said Marie.

"Like blue jeans? Like your dad is wearing now?" Laura asked.

"Yeah." Marie said, looking over at her father, who was wearing blue jeans.

"Do you remember seeing anything else in that little room?

"There was a coat hanging up. It looked like that." Marie said, pointing at the chair next to me. I'd been sitting unobtrusively in the chair in front of Laura's desk. My trenchcoat was folded on the chair next to me.

"Like this?" I asked, holding up the coat. Marie looked up at Laura, then her mother.

"It's okay," Laura said reassuringly, "you can talk to him. He's my husband, and Bowser's friend."

"Yeah, it was like that." Marie said, reassured about me.

"Marie," I said, trying to keep my voice as gentle as possible. "I'm going to stand up. Will you tell me if the man you saw was as tall as me?" I stood erect, towering over her.

"No, you're much higher than that other man was." Marie said. "But his tummy was much wider than yours."

"How did you get out of the room?" Laura asked.

"The man came and opened the door and told me to go into the field, that my mommy was down there." said Marie. "I ran out but I didn't see Mommy."

"Do you remember the police officer that found you?" Laura asked.

"Yeah, he was fat too." Marie said.

"Was he the same guy that brought you into the little room?"

"I don't think so." Marie said.

"Thank you for helping me, Marie." I said. "I'm going to let you talk to Dr. Laura here some more, okay?" My wife did not like being called 'Dr. Laura', but as I was talking to a child, she let it go.

"I know who you are!" Marie suddenly exclaimed, grinning. "You're that Crowbar guy on TV!" She was very happy with herself for figuring that out. Laura's eyes were twinkling as she grinned at me.

"Er, yes, I am." I said, smiling wryly. "My real name is Don, so call me that, okay? You're a very smart little girl."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, Commander," said Sergeant Rudistan. "Internal Affairs asked Sharples to show us where he found the girl. At first he said over there in that field about 200 yards down the road, but the trees behind it didn't match the video footage." He showed me some news footage from the previous night. There was enough light from cameras and some light behind the treeline, so we could generally tell the landscape. 

"So Sharples then said he wasn't sure, that it was night, he got disoriented by the news cameras, yadda yadda yadda." said Rudistan. "But I think this field here fits the video footage."

"Sure does." I said, then pointed at spots on the ground. "And you can see the trampled grass where Sharples went after the child, then around here were some Media people were." 

I had Cindy come over, and said quietly to her: "One other thing: the Search and Rescue teams were coming this way, and they were not the teams Sharples had been assigned to go with. He apparently broke off from them, came here by himself, and 'Hey, presto!' the child shows up right in front of him... before anyone else could get here to see what happened."

"Not only that," Cindy said, "this field is visible from the road, and several patrol cars went by in the previous hour. I've had officers approach me and make a point to say they saw nothing at all. They're suspicious, too. Yeah, they could've missed her, but she'd have to be practically intentionally hiding for that to happen."




Cold As Ice Ch. 02



"Yes." I said, then said loudly so that everyone could hear: "We need to look around for a shed or toolhouse in the area."

We searched around the periphery of the field. There was a small wooden shed in the backyard of one of the houses, and an open fence gate next to it."

"Let's ask the owners if we can look inside." I said. I went to the front door, but my knocks went unheeded.

"Commander," Cindy said, "for all your powers of observation..." She pointed to the 'For Sale' sign in the front yard.

"Ah, yes," I said, smiling, "I can't see the forest for the trees. Okay, let's do the 'probable cause' thing since this house appears to be unoccupied."

We went back to the shed, where Rudistan and Morton had stood on guard. Going inside, I groaned.

"This is it, all right." I said. "Hook on the door where a trenchcoat was likely hanging. But look at this." I pointed to what looked like a large rubber washtub. Inside was a beard, a wig, glasses, a shirt, blue jeans, and socks... all completely submerged in pure Clorox.

"So much for DNA data," Cindy said, "but I'll call the Lab anyway."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I think I've been hanging around you too long." Cindy said as we sat in folding chairs on what would be the new, reconstructed deck of The (New) Cabin, feeling the chill of the late afternoon air, and sipping on some single-malt Scotch that I only brought out on rare occasions, good or bad. This was one of those occasions.

Cindy continued: "I can just see that this whole thing was orchestrated by Sharples, and for his own glorification. What I don't understand is the 'why' of it."

"Well," I replied, "I don't think Sharples is smart enough to plan all that own his own, if you get my drift. This was planned for him, and the reasons are pretty easy to see, too."

I explained: "I think we got closer to getting rid of Sharples than we realized. They had to pull out all the stops with the Union. Then someone figured out that rescuing him was not enough; they had to rehabilitate his image publicly, or at least start publicly boosting his image so that if we started trying to erode him with the Media, he'd have this to counter it. And that was done, and pretty effectively, I might add. So as it stands now, even though most of the Force still knows what Sharples is and isn't, KSTD is making him pure gold with the Public."

"Yep." Cindy said. "so much for our brilliantly planned, flawlessly executed plans--"

Just then the crunch of gravel alerted us to the fact a car was driving up. Out popped someone unexpected: Bettina Wurtzburg, Senior Managing Editor of KXTC Channel Two News.

"May I join you for a moment?" Bettina asked as she came up. "Off the record? Completely off the record?"

"Sure." I said. I had brought an extra chair and cup, suspecting we might have an extra guest... but I thought it would be Teresa.

"I'll let you two talk--" Cindy said, getting up to go.

"Oh no, please stay." Bettina said. "I'd like for both of you to hear this." Cindy sat back down as I poured Bettina a drink.

"Mmm, that's good stuff." Bettina said after sipping the Scotch. "Again, guys, this is completely off the record."

"Agreed." I said. "Completely off the record. What's up?"

Bettina started in: "It is very obvious to everyone that something was going on with that kidnapping. And KSTD got every exclusive. Priya Ajmani, who would spread her legs for any man if it meant getting a scoop over us, somehow was at the scene when Sharples found the little girl, and was somehow the only one getting interviews with that guy."

If Bettina noticed Cindy and I exchange glances, she didn't let on as she continued: "I've been in the news business a good long time, and I know staging when I see it. This whole thing, and by that I mean the entire kidnapping event, looked like a planned, orchestrated, staged event. Everything looked done in advance, including the Media coverage, at least for KSTD. I know that sounds crazy guys, and probably makes me sound like some jealous harpy that's mad about getting scooped. But I'm not kidding; I think that whole thing was a farce... except for what the little girl endured."

"Yeah, that's what pisses me off about this." Cindy said. "Kidnapping a little girl like that. Whoever would do that has a heart as cold as ice, or really no heart at all."

"I could not agree more." I said. "And Bettina, you're not crazy. I agree with your ideas. I'll give you this much, and off the record, of course: Sharples has been increasingly on the edge the last few weeks and months. We've been looking to get him out, but he has some people desperate to save him, keep him where he is. I think this is part of that: make him look good with the Public, using a very willing tool in Priya Ajmani and KSTD... oh, take note of who owns KSTD, by the way, Bettina."

"Some group called Acme, right?" Bettina asked. I was stunned she did not know more.

"And who is behind Acme?" I asked.

"I... I'm not really sure." Bettina said. "They're a holding company for a consortium of businesses, based in the City, but I haven't looked up their makeup. I've got enough to do with my own network."

"Miss Ross, what do you think about Acme?" I asked Cindy.

"Whenever I hear the word 'Acme', Bettina, I hear the words 'Henry R. Wargrave'." Cindy replied.

"Oh, wow." Bettina said. "And does that mean-- oh, I can't ask that off the record. I'd never be able to use it."

"You'll never get an answer on the record." I said, knowing what she wanted to ask.

"Okay." said Bettina. "I've heard that the FBI and CIA are crawling up Wargrave's posterior so hard that he's shitting Government forms. They are really going after him. I haven't figured out why, though, especially after all these years."

"Want to know why?" I asked. "Look behind you."

Bettina did so, seeing only the beginnings of the construction of The Cabin. "I don't get it." she said. She looked around again, then it dawned on her. "Ohhhhhh... the fire. Oh my God, Don, are you trying to tell me Wargrave set your house on fire?"

"No, he didn't." I said. "He had no part in that at all. But the house fire is a clue to what is happening, and if you figure it out, Bettina, you'll have the greatest news scoop of all time. Of course I won't say any more... off the record or on it."

"Bettina," Cindy said, "off the record, you now know exactly how I feel every day talking to this man. Not much gets by him, but getting him to share is a different story."

"In due time, my friend, in due time." I said. "If I am keeping anything from you, Miss Ross, it's only to protect you from the hideous Evil that lurks within this County. Evil forces that were behind Bettina's ordeal at the hands of my evil nephew, Evil forces that set this house on fire. Okay, Bettina, I've given you some really hot information, though off the record. Do with it what you will..."

Part 9 - The Ace of Diamonds 

Monday morning, April 6th. At 7:30am Cindy and I were in my office, drinking our coffee and discussing what was going to happen during the day. We were planning to interdict the diamond shipment that the FBI said was coming in tonight, and we knew we had to do everything discreetly, nothing in writing. Paulina understood and went to Judge Watts' home to get a warrant that would be kept under seal until the raid actually took place.

To my shock, my office door opened and in walked Deputy Chief Robert Brownlee, without knocking and without invitation.

"There's a concept called 'knocking', Brownlee." I said. "Get to know it. Start doing it."

Brownlee ignored my words, as well as Cindy's presence as he said "We haven't gotten your written medal request for Sergeant Sharples yet. When are you going to submit one?"

"It's 'Detective' Sharples, Brownlee. He's not a Sergeant." I said. "And the first normal duty day since the incident hasn't even started yet, and won't for thirty minutes. We'll write something up, but in due time."

"You should put him in for the Police Medal." Brownlee said with an absolutely straight face. "If you don't want your people to write it up, I'll do it."

"No, it's not your place to do that." I said. "And the Police Medal? Are you kidding me?" Brownlee said nothing; he wasn't kidding. I continued: "If I feel good today, I might put him in for an Achievement Medal, which the Council will downgrade to a Certificate of Achievement. But the Police Medal? No frickin' way."

"Suit yourself." said Brownlee. "But he deserves a lot higher award for finding that little girl."

"At no risk to himself." I said. "Achievement Medal would be more than enough. Now shoo, go away, go do your job pushing papers." Brownlee's eyes sparked with anger at those words, but he held his tongue. He walked out.

"Are you frickin' kidding me?" Cindy said, her face not able to hide her sheer disbelief. "The Police Medal for that Fat Bastard?"

"Part of their plan." I said. "Part of their plan. Now let's not worry about little shit, we've got a big mission tonight...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 10:00am, Lt. Teresa Croyle came into my office.

"Sir," she said, "we've just gotten a tip that a big drug shipment is coming in. The drop is supposed to go down near Ronald Reagan Park around 1:00am."

"Which Detective developed this?" I asked.

"Geiger." Teresa said. "But when I asked him where he got it he admitted that Sharples gave him some info on it. Sharples then said that Geiger should take this to me, both to make Geiger look good and because we're mad at Sharples."

"No doubt about that." I said.

"The intel is pretty good, though." Teresa said. "I had Geiger and Newton check it out. Newton confirmed it."

"Okay," I replied, "have Geiger work with some Precinct 3 officers. Full vests and gear. But just as he leaves, tell him this might fake info to distract us. If it's real, he gets a good collar; if it's not, so be it."

"Yes sir." Teresa said, then turned and left.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

11:05pm, Monday April 6th. Lieutenant Teresa Croyle had her eight-man SWAT team ready to go, led by Senior Sergeant Hugh Hewitt, as Lt. Claire Michaels was away on personal business. Detective Christopher Purvis was also there. They were watching the warehouse that had been the scene of the first diamond raid days before.

"There's the truck." Teresa said. "And sure enough, Commander, there's Sharples, McCombs, Hendricks and Davis. Two hours before the FBI's intel said the truck would be here."

"And we're not supposed to know it's here at all." I said. "Okay, go!"

When Teresa and her unit burst into the room, the scene was virtually the same as before: five men sitting around a cooler full of ice and beers, their hands on their heads but them sitting in their chairs this time. Teresa noted that Sharples and his team had come in at least a minute beforehand, so those guys should've been on the floor and handcuffed by now.

"Nothing again, Lieutenant." Sharples said, his voice surprisingly calm and agreeable. "We just got here and were about to start a search. And I do have a warrant this time, issued by Judge Nance."

"Good." said Teresa. "Cuff and search these guys." She watched as officers cuffed the five men, some of who were bitterly protesting that this was harassment and that they wanted their lawyers immediately. Dirty Lennie had two cell phones, extracted by Patrol Officer Justin Hendricks, but other than that there was nothing unusual about their pocket contents.

"Nothing in the ice chest." said Sharples, taking the beers out as before...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I was still waiting outside with Lt. Cindy Ross, Sergeant Rudistan, Senior Patrolmen Morton and Hicks, and two Crime Lab techs, J.R Barnes and Bobby Patrick. Just then, my Police cellphone chimed. The text message read "Burner sent 'X' to four other burners."

"Shit." I said quietly. "Okay guys, it won't happen tonight. Let's go on inside." Cindy's face looked anguished as we moved inside and joined the others.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Leave that there, Sharples." Teresa ordered as Sharples was about to take the ice chest with him. He had done that last time, she remembered. Sharples's face began to redden, but he did not argue and he put the chest down. It may have been because he saw the tall, broad-shouldered redhead in a trenchcoat and Tilley Hat come into the room, carrying a red crowbar.

"Commander," Teresa said, "there is no contraband here that we've found yet."

"Allow me to assist you in your inquiries." I said dramatically, then called out loudly "Gentlemen, bring in the equipment!" 

The Crime Lab techs wheeled in an industrial hot-air blower from the Lab, as well as an iron pot more suitable for charcoal barbecues, and what looked like a circular piece of a screen door; it was a large sieve with the mesh consistent with a screen door. I set the sieve on top of the pot as the techs started up the generator that would feed electricity to the hot air blower.

"Excuse me, Sharples." I said, brushing past him and picking up the ice chest. It was heavy, and all eyes were upon me as I poured the ice and water onto the sieve. The water went through and into the pot; the ice remained on top of the mesh screen.

"Okay guys, heat it up." I ordered. "Rudistan, make sure to tape every second of this."

"Got it, sir." Rudistan said, operating a video camera. Cameras were being used more and more in crime scene investigations, as the visual record of the investigation did very well to stifle defenses during jury trials.

We all watched as the ice slowly melted as the hot air blew onto the crystal-clear pile of water rocks. It took some time, and I observed the faces of everyone as they watched. Hendricks and Sharples looked uncomfortable... and so did Dirty Lennie, who I would enjoy 'talking to' shortly. Everyone else had a look of fascination or 'WTF?' on their features.

Finally, the water stopped dripping through the sieve and into the pot. Only a pile of small, clear nuggets were left on the sieve, and everyone became aware that they were sparkling with a brilliance that ice didn't.

"Oh my God." said Teresa Croyle, the first to speak.

"Yes, Lieutenant." I said. "It looks like we have found us an illegal shipment of smuggled diamonds. Arrest these five guys and take them to Precinct 2 for booking. Oh, Dirty Lennie had an extra cellphone? Whassup wit' dat, Lennie?"

I continued: "Hewitt! Escort the Crime Lab technicians as they transport this contraband to the secure evidence areas. Shoot to kill anyone who tries to interdict you or stop you in any way. Go!"

"Yes sir!" called out Hewitt, and he led his SWAT team and the techs out with their enormously valuable cache of evidence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At 1:15am, as we were processing the perps, I got a call on police radio. Detective Geiger had successfully led a bust on a drug shipment, though it was much smaller than originally anticipated. I congratulated Geiger, then told Teresa to write up a commendation for him.

Part 10 - Solution 

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News!" shouted the lovely redhead reporterette into her microphone at 7:00am on Tuesday, April 7th. She was reporting from outside Precinct 2 Headquarters as she shouted "Channel Two News has learned that the Town & County Police Force interdicted a large shipment of diamonds being smuggled into the County! In an exclusive interview with Channel Two News, Commander Donald Troy stated that Lieutenant Teresa Croyle and Detective Christopher Purvis developed the information and led the raid that resulted in the successful recovery of the diamonds." Bettina then named, all too accurately, the dollar value of the diamonds. It was a staggering figure.

Bettina continued: "The diamonds were found in an ice chest filled with ice and water as well as beers. While Commander Troy stated that his Detectives did the work of discovery of the diamonds, other officers at the scene told Channel Two News on condition of anonymity that it was Commander Troy himself who revealed the hiding place of the diamonds by melting the ice in the chest with an industrial hot air blower..."

Teresa Croyle came up to me as I listened with everyone in MCD. "Thank you, Commander, especially for Purvis. He did great work on this." she said, referring to my giving my officers credit, which of course they richly deserved.

"Write Purvis up for a Commendation Medal." I said. "The Council will downgrade it to an Achievement Medal, but he'll get something. I am sure Miss Ross is already writing up your award."

"Way ahead of you, sir." Cindy said. The email with the write-up was already in my 'inbox'.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Oh my God. Ohhhhh noooo..." Henry R. Wargrave said as he ate his breakfast with his wife in their home north of Town, in the Heritage Cloisters subdivision. He suddenly was not hungry anymore. He had just listened to Bettina's broadcast.

"Is everything all right, dear?" Lilly Wargrave asked, concerned by the look on her husband's face.

"Uh, sure, sure." Henry said. "I just remembered some really urgent business I must attend to. Sorry to rush off, dear. Have a good day." He got up, kissed his wife on the forehead, and hurriedly left the room and the house.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Lennie, Lennie, Lennie." I said to the dirty, disgusting long-haired punk on the other side of the table in the Interrogation Room at Precinct 2 Headquarters in the Old Mill building. "We've got you ice cold, pun fully intended, for being in possession of smuggled diamonds, not to mention a burner phone. You're doing serious time for this one, Lennie. Why don't you tell us what's going on, so that my A.D.A. can cut you a good deal, eh, and put the real perp in prison where he belongs?"

Lennie stared at me, then exhaled. "Bring it on, brother Crowbar, bring it on. That cop Hendricks planted the phone on me, and I didn't do anything. I'm not saying anything else. You can't pin a damn thing on me specifically. "

Lennie was the only one so closed-mouthed. The other four men had demanded lawyers but had protested their innocence. The truck driver had outstanding warrants and would be extradited to Midtown, and he also invoked his Fifth Amendment rights and would not speak with us.

"All the stories stick like glue." said Teresa Croyle. "They all say Sharples and his gang came in and made them put their hands up, then the rest of us came in seconds later. The times aren't even close to reality, but their stories stick." She added: "And 'Curly' Goodwin of I.A. separately interviewed all four officers of Sharples' team, and their stories are exactly the same, as well, and the same as the perps' stories. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were all telling the truth, the workers and our officers."

"Some of them are, and some of them are lying like dogs in the shade." I said.

Moments later, District Attorney Gil Krasney showed up, escorted by ADA Jenna Stiles. Her face and Cindy's brightened considerably when they caught sight of each other. I took Krasney, Cindy, Jenna, Teresa and Precinct Captain Damien Thompson into the conference room next to Thompson's office.

"So here's the situation." I said. "I think two of the five guys are completely innocent, and two others are on the periphery but didn't know the full story. Dirty Lennie is just that: dirty, both physically in his hygiene and in this smuggling operation. We could convict all five of them on possession charges, but that would be wrong. Putting just Dirty Lennie on trial creates so much reasonable doubt and other crap that I wouldn't ask you to try the case. I'd rather let them all skate than wrongly convict two likely-innocent men, both of whom have families."




Cold As Ice Ch. 02



"That's tough." said Krasney, then added: "By that, I mean it must be tough for you to have to ask me to do that, Commander. One of those men must be guilty, but we don't know which one. Your guys made their raid too soon, though I'm not faulting them. You're right, though: we likely won't get a conviction."

"It wasn't too soon." I countered. "Recovering the diamonds was the most important part of this operation, and will have more far-reaching ramifications than y'all realize."

"How long do you want to hold them, Commander?" Jenna asked. "We might not get a conviction at trial, but we'd very likely get a Grand Jury to indict them if you want to hold them for a while."

"That's a good idea, Jenna, thanks for suggesting it." I said, praising Jenna in front of her boss. "But I think we'll let Lennie stew for the 72 hours I can hold him without charging him, and just let the others go this afternoon."

"So, Commander," said Krasney, "if it's not these guys, or if it's one of them only, just who else is behind this? Of course, the only others possible are the first four officers that came to the scene."

"Mr. Krasney," I said, looking the D.A. squarely in the eyes, "I would never accuse four Town & County Police Officers of corruption without having solid proof of their perfidy. Why, I'd be accused of slander, and the Union would file grievances against me for the next twenty years." The sarcasm of my voice was unmistakable, and everyone in the room understood.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Jack Muscone of the FBI treated his team and the TCPD Vice squad to a celebration dinner in the back room of the Cop Bar that evening. Do I even need to mention that double cheeseburgers were the main item being served? Well, salads and chicken sandwiches were also brought in, as well as beer. A lot of beer.

Unlike other times, I declined to discuss the aspects of the case at the dinner. That would come later that evening at the Mountain Nest, where Laura served desserts while I talked. Present were Cindy Ross, Jenna Stiles, Martin Nash, Sandra Speer, Teresa Croyle, Jack Muscone, Eduardo Escobar (FBI), Lindy Linares (FBI)... and of course the very best dog in the world, Bowser. Yes, I'm biased saying that, and proud of it. Bowser sat next to me and received a good 'skritching' as I talked.

"It's that time again." Cindy Ross said as we ate dessert. "The Iron Crowbar tells us how he solved it. And with all due respect to Teresa and Vice, we know who melted the ice on this one." There was general acclaim, then silence as all eyes and ears were lent to me.

"Well, we do give credit, and lots of it, to Teresa here, as well as Detective Purvis." I said. "They developed the first leads that there was a diamond smuggling operation. The FBI also developed these leads independently. It really was good work of my guys, and I am really proud of you."

I continued: "As to finding the diamonds: after the first raid seemingly failed, I thought about where the diamonds might have been hidden. They weren't on the truck; the Crime Lab even shredded the tires to find them, and of course found nothing. But the diamonds had been there, and that meant they were taken out somehow. I then remembered hearing something about an ice chest of beers, and nobody really remembering where it went.

"One of the SWAT Team reported seeing the ice chest outside the door, but he'd also seen Sharples 'search' for contraband earlier, in front of everyone, and finding nothing. No surprise there: diamonds are virtually invisible in an ice and water mixture. Sharples did the search, and mentioned testing the beers, with the intent to distract and deceive. Teresa did very well, however, in not mentioning that her raid was for diamonds.

"Turns out Sharples and his team took the chest outside, substituted it for another one in the trunk of Sharples car, and Sharples drove the diamonds right out of there, leaving the substitute chest there in case anyone asked about it. I know this, but cannot prove it in Court, so let's all keep this to ourselves for now. Unfortunately, no one thought about the ice chest again."

I went on: "I also had information, and it would be best if I don't discuss how I obtained it, that Sharples and his henchmen have been sending texts on burner phones. He'd send an 'O' if whatever operation he was doing was a 'go', and an 'X' if it was a 'no go' and needed to be called off or a 'Plan B' put into operation. On the first raid, the letter was an 'O', and Sharples made off with the diamonds and delivered them.

"I was very much hoping to catch him trying to remove the ice chest from the building after the second raid. If he had, we'd have had him dead to rights for smuggling and possession. Then we could not only fire his fat ass, we could put him in prison, and there would not be one God-damned thing the Union could do about it.

"Unfortunately, he must've gotten wind that something was wrong, and he called off the extraction by taking out the ice chest. Maybe someone texted the 'X' when Teresa came in with the SWAT team. In any case, Sharples and his gang knew things weren't going smoothly. I suspect he might have planned to hide the chest somewhere later on, but he didn't bring it out."

"Damn our luck on that." Teresa said.

"Yes." I said. "So the burners were being monitored, which again I won't talk about, and then I got a text saying Sharples sent an 'X'. I knew the game was up for that night, and so I came on inside and showed everyone where the diamonds were hidden. Sharples was most very discomfited as he watched that ice melting away, revealing the diamonds."

I then added: "Also, it looks like Hendricks planted the burner phone on Dirty Lennie when he frisked and handcuffed Lennie. I'm going to break up that posse by having Lt. Masters assign those officers to separate precincts, so maybe Precincts are going to do us some good, after all."

"Well," said Jack Muscone, "I know you guys will be watching Sharples and your rogue cops. Things will get a lot hotter for them, and soon. In the meantime, that interdicted shipment of diamonds means that someone is hurting for money right now, and badly."

"Yes," said Laura, a great deal of satisfaction in her voice. "And we're moving forward to--"

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

That voice was Bowser's. He leapt over my lap and off the sofa, running down the foyer to the front door. He was growling, scratching and barking at the space under the door. He was a most very unhappy dog at something.

Then he took off into the dark living room next to the hallway, which faced the front of the house. Bowser leapt onto the sofa in front of the big front window. "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" he growled again. As I came forward, I saw what had Bowser so upset:

A shadowy figure ran across the living room window! Someone was outside my house!

"Someone's out there!" I shouted. I went for my gun and was about to give chase, but as I opened the door I was dragged back and literally tackled. Martin Nash and Teresa Croyle ran outside ahead of me.

"You don't have your vest on, Commander." said Cindy, sitting on my back. "Nash and Croyle do. You stay put."

"Like I've got a choice." I said. Laura had caught Bowser and prevented him from leaving the house.

"Put him on a leash." I said. "Cindy, get off of me." Cindy let me up and I hurriedly put on my vest, which had been hanging in the front closet with my trenchcoat. I also got out a pair of night vision binoculars and took Bowser outside with me, letting him sniff the ground. He caught the scent fast enough and led me around the side of the house.

"Looks like he ran down the hill to the Campus." Teresa said as she and Martin Nash came back up the steps and to the back patio.

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"

Bowser growled again, looking out and down into the black distance towards the University campus, the leash straining as it held him back from giving pursuit. I snapped my night-vision binoculars to my eyes, and I saw it... the shadowy figure was behind a tree just downhill of us, and watching us!

"There he is!" I shouted, giving chase, as did my officers. But the figure bolted, this time running pell-mell down the hillside. When I stopped and used the binoculars again, the figure was gone.

Part 11 - Epilogue 

"Such a good dog, Bowser!" I whispered as I petted my daughter's dog, an hour after seeing the trespasser. "You did such a great job tonight!" Bowser wagged his tail and accepted my pettings and scratching his ears and jawline, which he liked. He settled into his bed beneath Carole's crib, but he was still restless and agitated. And so was I.

The Campus Police and 1st Precinct had been notified of the trespasser, and both were on the lookout with increased patrols. I'd declined offers of a patrol car being stationed outside the house, and also declined Cindy and Teresa's offers to stay with us. "We'll set the alarm." I said. "It'll be all right." 

As Laura and I settled into bed, she asked "Who do you think that was?"

"I have no idea." I said. "And what bothers me the most is that he didn't just bolt the first time, he stayed and kept watching us until Bowser growled again and I saw him in the night vision device."

"Well, I have to apologize to you." Laura said. As I looked at her inquiringly she said "I have to admit that bringing Bowser home to us was a good thing." I hugged her.

"Yes," I said, "he's a great dog."

"I suspect he put the fear of God into that perp, too." said Laura.

"Yes, he did." I agreed. "Laura... we need to be very careful. That diamond shipment was meant for Henry Wargrave. Interdicting it is going to cause him a lot of pain... a lot of pain. He is a cool and desperate man now, and there is no telling what he might do now that he's being cornered."

"Yes, darling, I know." said Laura. She rested her body against mine, her arm across my chest. "Hold me." I took my wife into my arms. We lay there for a long time, sleep not coming easily.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" snarled Sharples. He was in the basement laundry room of the Sunrise Hotel. McCombs and Hendricks were outside, in plainclothes and an unmarked car, watching Sharples' back. "The God-damned Iron Crowbar came in and went right to the ice chest. He knew those diamonds were there."

"He figured it out." said Thomas P. Cook. "And now you're in a world of shit, I'm in a world of shit, and my client is in a real world of hip-deep shit. We've got to get those diamonds back."

"How do you propose to do that?" Sharples asked disdainfully. "The secure evidence rooms are in the basement of Police Headquarters, and there is simply no way to get them out."

"You give up too easily." called out a cutting, commanding voice. A woman's voice. Karen Warner Harlan appeared in the room. "Sharples, you stay here. Thomas, come outside with me."

"But--" Cook protested, but Karen cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up, you idiot." she warned. "Now if you want to live past the next two minutes, get your ass in gear and let's go!" Cook didn't like it, but a sense of fear flowed through his very soul. He followed the beautiful young woman out. She led him to the outside back parking lot and told him to get in his car and go home. She watched until he did. Then she went back downstairs.

"All right, Sharples." she said to the overweight Detective. He had stayed instead of bolting, his mind liquid with fear. "Give me your Police ID card."

"Why?" Sharples asked in spite of himself.

"So I can duplicate it, then extract the key codes to get into the downstairs areas of Police Headquarters." Karen replied. "Don't worry, they won't be able to trace them back to you."

"Are you shittin' me?" Sharples asked, his voice whiny and irritating. "No way in hell anyone can get in there and get the diamonds back out-- oh Jesus..."

The presence of the man walking up behind Karen had Sharples' full attention. "No, I'm not Jesus, Detective." he said, "Please give her the card." Sharples did so, his heart pounding, wondering if these were his last moments on this earth. Karen used some kind of card reading device to get the info off the police ID card, then handed Sharples his card back.

"Have more faith, Detective Sharples." said the man. "Where there is a will, there is a way. And of course, I always have a way."

"Uh, yes sir." Sharples croaked.

"Go." said the man. "You'll be contacted when you're needed again. In the meantime, keep quiet and 'lay low', as they say. The Iron Crowbar will be watching you very, very closely now. Just do your job, and let him waste his time watching you do your job."

"Yes sir." Sharples said. He quickly left the room. Going upstairs to the outside, he saw McCombs and Hendricks in their car, asleep. Only when he approached the car did he realize that they had been drugged and rendered unconscious...

Meanwhile, the man asked Karen "Well, Mrs. Harlan, may I offer you a ride home?"

Karen smiled as she replied "Why, thank you very much... Number 4."

Finis... for now.



Cold Ass Bitch



Weekends from noon the outdoor pool at Moonraker Apartment Towers were always a social melee on fine summer days. It was a noisy scene of an array of substantially naked bodies, popping corks, splashes, smooching couples, shouting, wanton laughter, the occasional punch-up and a few kids running around having fun.

Few adults actually swam in the pool.

On 'the hard' it was open slather with no space reservations issued and with the best, the indifferent and the worst aspects of human behavior on display. Enlightened management even permitted dry humping but banned actual insertion no matter how discretely it was managed. Residents were permitted to entertain guests poolside, even during peak season weekends.

The more intelligent residents and/or the very aged, infirm or the sick with contagious diseases stayed well away from the pool area on summer weekends. A few would venture poolside in late summer after the seasonal novelty of watching tits, skinny thighs, monstrous midriffs and hairy-legged tight butts had worn off and the crowd poolside thinned and the noise and bedlam became far less annoying.

Will Joll, a top security adviser to industry, was one who appeared in calmer times.

Anita Joplin was another. The big-tit beauty was the daughter of Andrew Joplin, chairman of the management board of Moonraker Towers.

Will and Anita occupied adjoining penthouses but Anita never spoke to him, never acknowledged his presence and so after twenty failed attempts at friendly communication, Will began smiling at Anita and offering greetings such as 'Good morning you cold ass bitch' and 'Hi I see you are menstruating this morning.'

She ignored him brilliantly for a while but his unrelenting verbal abuse finally got to her.

One evening when Will arrived home after fucking his drunken date legless and waited for an elevator, two guys sitting in nearby armchairs rose and followed him into the elevator.

He nodded.

They didn't.

Will watched the smaller guy put on a brass 'knuckle duster' and as the guy rushed at him with a coiled punch ready to deliver, he drop-kicked the guy under the chin, = his square-toed heavy shoe making precise contact.

The assailant dropped like a stone.

The big guy roared and swung a haymaker that missed, because Will, a former Special Forces soldier, was no longer standing there. He was to one side of the big guy was fell to the ground unconscious after sustaining a vicious chop to the side of the neck. 

Will stopped the elevator and pulled the two guys out on to the Italian tiles. He pulled off their pants and briefs and took those garments back into the elevator. He pressed the button to continue up to the last four floors and then entered the code to go to the penthouse level. He placed both pairs of pants and underpants outside the apartment of the cold-ass menstruating bitch, rang her doorbell four times and then crossed to his apartment and went to bed.

The next evening when Will arrived in the apartment lobby, the day manager greeted him and said, "Good evening Mr Joll. Here is a letter for you from the chairman of directors of the Towers."

The letter apologized for the disturbance and stated Mr Joll's leased apartment was required for refurbishment. Attempts to contact him that day had failed (lying bastard, Will snorted) and with apartment vacancy urgently required to allow the renovation to commence, Mr Joll's effects had been moved to apartment 1011 on the ground floor. Refurbishment would take 30 days.

Will thought fair enough but if it had to move so would she, the cold-ass bitch. He took the card keys for apartment 1011 from the apologetic day manager.

The apartment was larger than expected and Will was quite pleased. The next evening he arrived from work with two suitcases and installed difficult to detect surveillance miniature security cameras in his apartment as well as very high tech security alarms when were set to activate only when his presence was also detected.

Two days later at 3:15 am, Will unlocked the security office, located next to the office of the night manager who was at the desk in the lobby. He grinned when no alarm sounding and he quickly scanned the room with his electronic hand reader that confirmed there was no equipment installed to send an alarm to a remote location either. Well he was happy to exploit two major flaws in the security system.

Will spent 15 minutes studying the entire security system for the towers. It was really very good but as far as he could determine it was entirely internally confined, with no external monitoring whatsoever. And there was no alarm system to warn when the system went down. So he turned everything off and waited.

Nothing. 

He removed the recording disk and the backup tape for that day and placed them in his tool bag.

Will left, locking the door, and looked into the lobby and saw the manager was reading a newspaper. The security screen behind him was blank.

Will took the elevator to the 39th level and still wearing gloves pushed the button to access the penthouse level and smiled when the elevator activated without the usually required password numbers being pressed on the keypad.

He accessed Miss Joplin's apartment and wearing night vision goggles went through it and was surprised. She wasn't there. He happily vandalized every wall in the apartment with difficult to remove spray paint, writing just the one word, 'Bitch'. He cracked the main bathroom basin, cracked all the shower glass and vandalized the bowls of the three toilets, making the cold-ass bitch's penthouse in urgent need of renovation. 

Finally he opened Miss Joplin's underwear drawer and cut the crotch out of the nineteen pairs of panties he found.

He then left, locking the apartment door behind him and returned to the basement and drove out in his vehicle and carefully dumped his tools, clothing including balaclava and gloves used that evening five miles away in a commercial area. He retained the night vision goggles and returned them to his workplace next days and he placed the stolen security disks in a grinder and carefully removed every trace of it and flushed all that dust and tiny fragments down a toilet across the street in the men's room of a restaurant.

Two days later a personal call was put through to Will.

"Good morning, Anita Joplin speaking. May I meet with you this evening?"

"Good morning to you Miss Joplin. Yes that would be satisfactory. Where?"

"Seven at your temporary apartment would be fine."

"Very good."

The phone clicked. End of call.

He smiled. She'd played it so coolly. Her voice had remained absolutely neutral, not a trace of hostility. She'd probably arrived with a gun tonight with two guys with machine guns. On the other hand she might have decided well here was a man with substance, let's see what he's like in bed.

Oh yeah?

She hadn't arrived by 7:20. Will taped a not to the apartment door and went out to dinner.

Miss Joplin arrived at the restaurant at 7:40 and smiled coldly. Like him she was dressed in jeans and white shirt.

He remained seated and pointed to a chair. The CAB (cold ass bitch) ignored the direction and took the chair to his left that was the one he'd wanted her to take because he could look beyond her to the entrance and also see most other tables without turning.

She waited for him to speak and found she was wasting her time. The CAB said she'd have a Martini and Will raised a finger and Janice made a Vodka-based Martini, grabbed another light beer, and brought them over.

"A Martini miss?"

"Thanks."

After Janice left the CAB sipped and said surprised, "This is Vodka based."

When trashing her apartment Will had opened the drinks cabinet and had noted one bottle of gin and one opened bottle of Vodka and four other full bottles.

"Classy women tend to favor Vodka base."

That caught her be surprise and she smiled. She actually smiled.

She lost that smile and said, "You trashed my apartment."

"If you think that complain to the police and name me as your suspect."

She snorted and said Moonraker's security consultant said the disabling of the security system and the systematic vandalism of the apartment had been done by a cold ass expert possessing a vicious streak and no trace, not even a hair from his personage, would be left behind.

"Not even a short hair?"

She smiled and eyed him over her glass.

"Perhaps our adviser should have said a cold ass expert with a touch of wicked humor."

He smiled, sipped beer and put down his glass carefully and said, "I never should have referred to menstruation. God my mom would have slapped me around the room if she'd known I had stooped that low. I apologize unreservedly. Here whack me with your handbag; I won't resist."

She giggled.

Will was quite captivated, having glimpsed her human side.

"I accept your full apology. God it takes a lot to rile me but you managed. I felt crucified. And so you admit to trashing my apartment?"

"I might look silly but I really have no idea of what your are on about."

"I could lay a complaint and the police would take you in for questioning."

"I see a conflict in that since you've already decided to pay the cost of restoration yourself, knowing the board would probably rule your apartment, like mine, was due for renovation."

"You have a damn fine mind Mr Joll."

"Show me your tits."

"And now in an instant my growing admiration of you has been torn asunder."

Will smiled and said she really ought not over-react and be theatrical. All she had to do was to say no way and make no judgment, accepting a guy had the right to possess the desire to see a woman's tits. He was just being manly.

"Very well," she said coldly. "I'll not pass judgment. Swine are swine without one reminding herself that is so."

"Yeah well I feel the same about great-looking tits. I really don't need to have them flashed to have the truth confirmed."

"Very well I will do as you want and, er, flash them at you."

"No please don't. An involuntary action will only make the act seem tawdry and I'd not want that. Also there must be a light risk of me seeing discolored skin, moles, warts and even a suppurating lesion that will leave me with nightmares for weeks."

She turned big-eyed and rolled in her chair in laughter and called him disgusting.

And then she said something astonishing. "You are fast-becoming a guy who actually interests me."

"Is that so?" he said mildly, picking up his menu to hide confusion because he was now wondering about having sex with her. Jesus not this babe; she was all bad news."

"What would you like? I'll even pay."

"No I'll pay," she said. "I arranged to meet you this evening. Whenever I'm in an Italian restaurant I always have the lasagna to see if it's better than I make it."

"And?"

She seemed surprised by the question and said usually it was superior.

As they finished dinner, Miss Joplin said, "We appeared to have got beyond me wishing to berate you for trashing my apartment. I now have the desire to move on and I'm amazed at how the level of my interest in you has soared, especially from conversing here this evening. The way you handled making your point over those two goons both shocked and fascinated me. I'm sleeping tonight in my parent's penthouse but my aunt and uncle will be with them with their two teenage brats tomorrow evening. I wonder could I have a bed in your temporary apartment tomorrow for three nights."

"Yes of course. Aren't there empty apartments in the complex?"

"No and if there way I would still make my request."

"That's fine." 

Willy dug into his wallet and handed a door key card to Miss Joplin.

"Thanks and I mean it and thanks for the meal and conversation. I've ended up enjoying the occasion. I'm off now. I've had my coffee quota for today."

"Goodbye. You are no longer the cold ass bitch who continually snubbed me."

"Thank you."

She walked away but turned and came back to the table and said quietly, "I really admire you for not suggestion I sleep with you in your three-bedroom apartment. All my money would have said you would make that crack."

He just smiled and she left, Willy watching the gentle ass-sway as she walked elegantly out of the restaurant.

Perhaps she was planning his assassination; perhaps not. He thought the chances of her sleeping with him were so high he wouldn't gamble against it happening.

* * *

Anita had repeatedly complained to her father about the guy in the penthouse across from her hassling her. But Andrew had been dismissive when finding the only 'offence' the guy Joll appeared to have committed was attempting to speak to his daughter.

Claire her mom said it sounded as if the guy was only attempting to be friendly.

"Dad said he is ex-Army. That guy wants my butt."

"Anita," cried her shocked mother and Anita failed to spot her dad's faint grin.

"Try responding to the guy and greet him civilly," he counseled.

"No way. He's far too smooth for my liking. You know that after Richard's drunken attack on me I'm really off all men at the moment. Er except for you dad and a few gentlemen."

"Well we have banished your brother from this building darling," Claire said. "I really think your brother was on some kind of dope in wanting to have sex with you like that. He's never been like that before."

"Mom he's tried it on with me over the years several times, but never that violently."

"Omigod, why didn't you tell us?"

"And have dad say I was making it up or I should not dress provocatively. No I dealt with it my way."

The next time Anita complained about her nearest neighbor she said the asshole had began called her a hard ass bitch.

"I told you to reply to him politely," worried her mom. "This is escalating."

"This morning he said he saw I was menstruating," Anita said, tears appearing.

Her shocked mother said, "Omigod were you showing?"

"Of course not and I never do. Anyway my time was a fortnight ago."

"Leave us darling," Claire said grimly. "I shall talk to your father about this. It has to be stopped."

Three days later Anita ignored her doorbell ringing in the early hours and went back to sleep. When she was leaving for work she almost tripped over the two pairs of pants and two pairs of underpants. She put on her kitchen apron and gloves, gathered them and took them down to her parents' penthouse.

They were disgusted.

He father removed a wallet from the pocket of the smaller pair of pants, looked at the identify of the guy and his face tightened and he said "Jesus."

"What dad."

"These pants belong to two guys I hired to deal with your nuisance. They are supposed to be professionals but apparently your Mr Rambo wasn't told about that when dealing with them. Well I will try to deal with your problem more effectively and have him removed from this floor."

"Just do it dad but for god sake don't have him injured otherwise the police will have your ass."

"Anita please don't use common language like that."

"Sorry mom."

Anita's father, an industrial consultant who worked from home, called her at her office.

"Your Rambo has done it again."

She yelled, "Dad he's not MY Rambo. What's he done now?"

"I had him pushed out of his apartment saying we required it vacated for renovation although in this case there were another couple of years to go. Some time last night he disabled our entire security system, broke into your apartment and trashed it and cut the crotch out of your stock underpants."

"He what?"

"Trashed your apartment."

"No that's okay. I want to decide the new colors after repairs are made. You said he invaded my panty drawer and cut out the crotch."

"Yeah I think he's attempting to woo you baby."

"The hell he is. Call the cops dad and name him."

"We had the cops in. We had to for insurance purposes. The asshole also stole our security disk and back-up tape. But our security guy looked at Rambo's file and said the guy was a military special ops specialist and a highflying security specialist. The police would find no trace of his presence and therefore nothing but weak circumstantial evidence that he was the culprit."

"But I want him arrested and grilled. That will scare the scrap out of him."

"Baby that will be child's play compared with what he would have been trained to become a military assassin or whatever he was and what he did out in the field."

"Oh god what can we do?" Anita sobbed.

"Pay him to leave I suppose," Andrew sighed. "I'll talk to him."

"No dad he's so infuriating you'll only get mad and take a swing at him. Let me talk to him."

"But baby I don't want to put you in danger."

"Dad with me he's only thinking pussy. I'll handle him competently and without allowing him to place a finger on me."

Andrew laughed. "Should you be talking pussy to your father?"

"Shut up dad. A role of being clown doesn't suit you."

After dinning with Mr Joll, Anita walked into her parents' apartment in almost a daze. She'd concluded she quite liked the man and somehow had stupidly asked to stay with him. She needed professional help!

"Coffee darling?"

"Thanks mom," she said, forgetting that would push her over daily quota.

"How did it go?" asked her father, removing his reading glasses as he walked into the kitchen.

Anita manipulated the truth. "Well I spoke frankly to Rambo, er I mean Mr Joll and he agreed to back off and no matter how hard I tried to get a confession about his vandalism he would neither confirm nor deny involvement as I alleged."

"Well what did you expect?"

"A confession dad."

"Baby you are dreaming. You lie so why shouldn't he."

"I don't lie daddy."

"I'll ignore that untruth. I bet he got your nicely settled and then complimented you on your breasts."

Claire snorted, "Andrew don't be so revolting."

"Yes dad such disgusting conjecture is way over the top."

Andrew just grinned and made no effort to apologize.

"Darling," said her mom, "with your apartment out of action and Aunt Julie and family arriving we'll be pressed for room here."

"No problem mom, I find somewhere to sleep."

"Where?" asked her mom, looking concerned. "You are too aloof to have made real friends here."

"I'll manage. Perhaps I'll ask Rambo if I can bunk in with him."

Her parents laughed as if they'd just been told a wicked joke, making Anita feel rather guilty. Well she couldn't confess, not when her own mind was still in a whirl over her accommodation arrangement for three nights.

After the Joplin's and the newly arrived Vogt families had finished dinner, Anita just disappeared, collecting her overnight bag and slipping out of the apartment.

She arrived at Will Joll's apartment to find a note on the door: 'Please enter AJ and make yourself at home. I expect to be back by 10:00. I'm dining with an important client's rep and she might require sex. Will.'

God he needn't have told her that bit about sex, Anita sniffed jealously. Then she smiled. The manipulative jerk, she bet the client was male and there would be no sex involved.

She entered the apartment and noted the fresh flowers, plunged straight in the two vases like only men would do. That made her smile. 

On the dining room table she saw a big round box with the note, 'Anita I may have been a bit rough on you. Apologies. Here's a gift as a sweetener."

A hat, he'd bought a hat for her. How novel but it was unlikely she'd ever wear a hat of his choice. Men had little idea... she gaped.

The hat box was full of her favorite brand of panties. God if there were nineteen pair it would be akin to a confession. There were so many of them that she knew she'd really like some of them.

There were forty panties.

Unbelievable. The guy was a genius. God he only had to ask for her pussy and she'd offer it. She chose her bedroom and showered, put on one of her new panties and dressed, resisting the temptation to waiting for him dressed in the panty and with her breasts bare so in one glance he could see the two things that appeared to most interest him.




Cold Ass Bitch



Will arrived at 9.40 and she used his name for the first time.

"Good evening Will."

"Oh hi Anita. You are looking lovely. He strode over and kissed her lips and she was relieved to smell no odor of a woman's pussy."

Christ she'd allowed him to kiss her without resisting. Well she supposed she'd wanted that to happen.

He asked had she got his note and she said yes and had received his most remarkable gift.

Should she or shouldn't she. Yes!

She pulled up her dress and smiled a little carefully, "See I'm wearing a pair."

"Christ you have wonderful legs. Keep holding your dress up."

What? This was supposed to be about the panty.

"No," she said, beginning the release.

"I beg of you."

That halted the release. She was totally confused. It was not like her to be so indecisive. 

"I'm allowing my dress hem to drop now."

"Okay. What about your tits?"

"What about my breasts."

"Please show them to me Anita... please."

"Some other time."

"Okay."

She hadn't expected him to let her off the hook but when she'd said some other time she'd really meant that. This guy appeared to operate half a step ahead of her.

"Are you tired after all the sex?"

"I only wrote that to tease you. Gavin McCoombe is an elderly man."

"Mom's brother is Gavin McCoombe. What does your one do?"

"He's chairman of McCoombe Industries and you work for him."

This turn of events fascinated Anita. "He told you that?"

"No he didn't discuss you or your family and where you live. He wanted to learn about me because his management committee has recommended my firm as consultants and installers of a completely new security system for his data-processing company that services almost 2000 small businesses, payrolls and that sort of stuff but you know that, being operations manager of the company. In refreshing my knowledge about the company earlier today I happened to see your photograph in the company profile and so I performed a security check on you and found the relationship because your father is chairman of McCoombe Industries."

"But nothing in our company's records establishes my relationship with my father."

"That's true but I talking about a full security check that only a privileged few can access. I even learned of your disgusting brother's attack on you eighteen months ago."

"But that's privilege information damn you."

"And it shall remain so Anita."

"You can access police files?"

"I neither confirm nor deny that assertion Anita."

"Omigod nothing is sacred. You'll even know my bra size."

"I neither confirm nor deny that assertion Anita."

She glared at him and he grinned and held her gaze and she finally began smiling and said, "You jerk." But it was spoken sweetly.

"Am I allowed to know about you?"

He smiled and went to a drawer under one of the vases of flowers and handed her a computer disk, saying he'd expected her to ask that question.

"It is my full life history, unexpurgated. There is a laptop in each bedroom."

"No please, take this back. If I am to learn about you I'd prefer to learn about you the slow way."

"In bed?"

She was unable to prevent the hot flush, a very hot flush. God she was unable to resist him.

Will surprised her in the morning, arriving in her bedroom with a tray containing a glass of water, a glass of fruit juice, a mug of green teen and a mug of ordinary tea and a cup of coffee.

"Oooh."

"Obvious you are a women of particular tastes," he said, "and deliberate actions. Just have what you wish from this variety. There ought to be something that appeals."

"Oh there is and thanks. I expected a visit from you during the night."

The green eyes held the blue eyes of the blonde.

He finally said he considered only making room calls on invitation.

"I must remember that."

"It may help you to know you have an open invitation to visit me."

She smiled. "Would you like to see my er tits?"

He nodded and she dropped the sheet.

She appeared to like his expression very much and she said, "You may touch them."

"Some other time," he said. "I must go, I have an early start this morning. Bye."

She called him back for a kiss and she held on to time so it wasn't just a brief touch of lips.

Her eyes opened wide and she wheezed when feeling his hand circle lightly over her tummy. "Omigod that almost made me come."

He smiled at her deeply and left, saying goodbye as he headed to the main door, grabbing his attaché case off the floor.

Anita sipped the water and then the orange juice. That was enough.

She called her mom.

"I slept in Rambo's apartment last night but in my own room."

"You call that news?" her mom laughed. "I thought you would be residing overnight with him when you failed to state where you'd be sleeping. I figured he was just the type to lure you, a good-looking tough bastard with simmering appeal and able to hold a conversation."

"If you knew all of that why didn't you say something?"

"What and have your father tease you? You know what he's like."

"Ah yes. Thanks mom."

"Now this is just between you and me. He told me last night he thinks Rambo..."

"His name is Will."

"...that Will could be a good match for you because he has more horsepower than you. You father says Will probably has good genes, that's genes that starts with a 'G' darling."

"Omigod my father who's reputedly a remarkable judge of character said that?"

"Yes dear. And I said I agreed with him. You are getting on darling at thirty-four and he's probably another two years older."

"Mom you can't talk about us like breeding stock."

"But I just have darling."

They laughed and ended the call.

Anita settled down to work and he was soon out of her mind. Two hours later he called and she was glad about that because that call added his cell phone number to her phonebook.

"What do you want?"

"Just to say hi to Miss Charming."

"I'm trying to stop thinking about you."

There was a pause... she could hear his breathing. Christ she'd surprised him. 

Well one of them would have to say something. No they didn't and she went to slam her phone shut when he said, "I think I've got the hots for you. I can't stop thinking about you."

"Bullshit."

Oh god, what had made her say that. She thought of apologizing but thought that would be pathetic. Play the tough bitch he thinks she is.

"I'll talk to you about it tonight."

"I'm not sure about that. I made an error of judgment showing you my breasts."

"Why because I didn't lick them?"

"No not that."

"Then why?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"I have no idea. I suppose it's because I shouldn't encourage you."

He laughed easily, sending some of Anita's skin into goose bumps. She imagined she could feel the lips of her vulva twitching. Oooh perhaps she should tell him that? God no. "I must go."

"Wait, did you love talking to me?"

"Oooh yes. No. Bye."

She slammed her phone shut and groaned, "You pathetic cock-hungry bitch. You're allowing him to undermine your confidence."

Anita returned to her work thinking how would she know she was cock-hungry. Never in her life had she used the expression and hadn't even known she was aware of the existence of such an expression. But she appeared not to require an explanation about its meaning.

She knew he was keen to seduce her. She thought about it and decided never before had she thought about being seduced by a new guy. Existing boyfriends yes but never a new guy. It would just happen or not happen. So what was so different about Will? She thought about it and found her thoughts too confusing and so resumed unfinished business.

* * *

Anita awoke to find Will bent over her and blowing down the cleavage that disappeared under her bra. She became aware she was on top of her bed dressed only in a bra and panties. She obviously had slipped off to sleep after her bath.

Will straightened and handed her a glass of iced water.

"Thanks Will, what time is it?"

"Almost 8:30."

"Omigod I've been ignoring you."

"It was fine. I brought home some papers I had to read."

They went to a Turkish restaurant, a new experience for Anita and she enjoyed everything about it and she watched with interest how Will flirted expertly to the two young female waitresses and she was astonished when the mother of the teenagers came with the main meal and received the same treatment from him and appeared to adore Will.

On the walk back to their building Will placed an arm around Anita and cupped a breast. She made no effort to pull away and then said, "Do you with to have sex?"

He replied unhurriedly, "Yes providing you don't mind rushing into it like this?"

She placed her hand over his and pushed his hand harder into her breast. "Tonight would be fine."

As Will removed her dress Anita asked, "Why did you attack me panties with scissors?"

"That's rather an odd question to someone who has given you a box of panties. I would suggest it's a guy's way of making an emphatic statement. For example it might be tantamount to saying, "Hey babe with great tits and a juicy pussy, please consider me when you next get the urge. I've reconfigured your panties to keep you thinking of me."

"Men wouldn't think like that," she giggled.

"Agreed, it will be rather too imaginative for most guys. They'd just leave a note with a diagram with the wording, "Hey babe this is what I've got for you. Yeah that would be more likely if they felt it necessary to leave a note."

"Specifically talking about you, what would your calling card be?"

"Oh honey I'm not all that sophisticated. I'd probably leave a tip-filled condom with my phone number scrawled on the latex."

"So I'm honey now you awful man?"

"Yes and I'll not have sex with you unless you are comfortable with me calling you honey."

"Honey is fine with me, you lovely man. Please deal with my bra and then remove my lovely new panty."

He removed the panty with Anita's cooperative foot raising movements and he then sniffed loudly by her neatly trimmed bush and they both easily heard her noisy gasp.

"You have a fine body with a great scent."

"You mean odor."

"I mean girly scent, real scent."

He unbuckled and helped her remove his pants and briefs.

"Omigod. It's big and almost beautiful."

"Yeah well don't get too carried away. I find it's a great working tool."

She giggled and licked it tentatively.

"Go on get it down your throat."

She said, "I haven't finished undressing you yet."

"I'll complete my undressing and you tend to my cock. Anita I'd like you to know I regard this as a great privilege than you wish to mix discharges with me."

"Discharges?" she said weakly.

"Yes of course but of the nobler kind."

She still hesitated. 

"I'm protected but are you clean?"

"I have that question about you darling. There's only one way to find out. Swallow my cock."

She groaned and did what was asked of her, superbly.

Anita sucked Will so deeply he fancied his tip was about to enter her pussy via her throat; she'd swallowed every inch he had and even his balls were in her mouth.

Oh so awesome.

She finished swallowing heavily and wearing a white necklace around her lips and then spat out little lumps.

"Oh such a magnificent display of penis worship I've ever had the pleasure to be on the end of," he said grandly, wiping off semen from around her mouth. "In my book you reign as a supreme gobbler."

* * *

AJJ as her father called Anita Joyce Joplin when she was a young kid was born pure, as people like to think we all are, but early in life got a mean streak from somewhere. It just popped up like when a toddler and she told to shut up because her parents with hangovers wished to sleep in because it was Sunday. The brat would retreat, slam the door and then slam another door shut for good measure and then, when her parents tensed for another possible door slam where would be an almighty crash. 

Another example of that mean streak emerged through dolls. Anita would introduce herself to other kids' dolls but were those little girls permitted to play with Anita dolls? Oh no. She would be growled at and sent off to her room to stew in the growing belief that everyone but Anita was so mean.

Yeah and that kind of situation kept on enveloping her from time to time through life, convincing her life could be so unfair. It didn't help that her parents actively and systematically chased success to keep ahead of the mass and to enrich their lives in the ways they desired. There was love and affection and a real sense of togetherness within the family and recognition of the worth of strong family values but none of them were strong on aspects of community such as compassion and servitude. The hard ass member of the family actually wasn't Anita, it was her brother Frank who was eventually pushed away from the family when his ruthless steak ended in disgraceful behavior when he attempted to have forced sex with his younger sister.

Because of her good looks, athletic body and unrelenting sense of adventure, Anita made friends easily but significantly she never became great friends with anyone because she lacked some of those refine attributed such as real concern for others and reliable loyalty that underpin deep friendships. As she became older Anita found she preferred short liaisons with the opposite sex and when involvement in sexual relations entered her life that preference for short liaisons didn't change and in the years she was at college involved in business studies the bulk of fellow students made short sexual relationships appear the norm.

As a young adult she became aware she developed acquaintances rather than real friends and was not bothered by that. In fact she felt rather sorry for people she knew who bonded so deeply into lovey-dovey relationships that they appeared to lose momentum in life.

Then her secure outlook on life took an unexpected dive when her outrageous brother made that unsuccessful sexual hit on her. Being almost violated scared her. She had almost completely recovered from that huge upset that had really dented her ego and affected her self-confidence when the penthouse opposite hers was leased to this arrogant guy who the first time she saw him looked at her breasts lustfully and she knew what he wanted. So she met aggression with her version of it and imagined he did not exist.

And then the bastard trashed her apartment. She couldn't believe it and the shock threw her into a wobble that hadn't diminished when she awoke next morning. Her father when learning of her problem with this arrogant guy had initially kissed her and said not to worry he'd 'fix it' as if he intended repairing a doll but obviously the strong-arm measures had failed. Anita had the sense to know this could escalate into something much more serious. She decided she should intervene directly and try to reach a successful conclusion even if it meant allowing the guy to have sex with her to allow his ardor to run its course. 

It had proceeded as planned but now was producing unexpected results. She found she was actually likening the guy and was hoping he'd like the sex enough to start dating her to continue access. The strangest of things was he appeared to make her feel er romantic with his pressure. She felt softer and had a desire to hold him and have him touch her. Omigod he'd captured her sensually, something she'd long though could never happen to her because she found it impossible to really let go and... yes and to wallow.

Omigod.

* * *

As Will slipped between Anita's legs and crouched ready to work his tongue and fingers, he heard her whisper, "Make love to my pussy."

Will grinned thinking that was encouraging and not aware that was something Anita had never before considered saying. She'd slipped into an emotional mode at a level that even she hadn't been aware she possessed and could access. A passion new to her was being released. Will just happily licked the lips of her vulva wetter than they were with her sexual arousal and shoved in a couple of fingers and grinned when he heard her groan at a depth no guy had ever heard emerge from Anita Joplin's lips where her tongue was protruding to one side and waggled in growing desire-driven ecstasy. 

Anita exploded over his mouth and fingers and when Will lifted, mouth dripping to look at her triumphantly Anita groaned into another release without being touched.

She found this amazing.

"Come for me," she whispered, holding out her arms to draw him to her. No condom is required and I'm protected. I need to feel your cock wallowing in me.

Will leaped on to her.

"Omigod," she giggled, face flaming and reaching to steer him in.

Straight Missionary was unusual for Will but these were unusual times and this was one very unusual lady. What the lady wanted her would deliver gratefully on this inaugural occasion.

"God you are big," Anita whispered and immediately felt the dick become slightly thicker. 

She groaned.

"Am I hurting you?" Will enquired anxiously.

"Yes," she said. "Hurt me more, I'm loving it."

Huh? Three fucks later they fell asleep, exhausted, with Anita murmuring, "That was the best sex ever. Will you accompany me to the residents' quarterly function tonight?"

Will yawned and said the function was tomorrow night.

"Tonight, it's well gone midnight."

"Hell whatdoyouknow? Right now I know nothing. You fuck really good."

Anita smiled into sleep.

* * *

Hostess Claire Joplin pulled at her husband's arm and pointed at a late-arriving couple, both with high color and damp hair as if they... well yes, perhaps they had.

"That's Anita and the guy she hates," Andrew said, scratching his nuts.

" That hate appears to be history," Claire smiled, squeezing her husband's arm and admonishing, "Please don't scratch your balls in public Andrew."

"But how come?"

"I'd suggest our daughter has finally found herself thanks to this man and I guess she'd found a good fit for her in more ways than one."

"You mean he's fucking her."

"Andrew do you really have to be so coarse? I predict you are looking at your future son."

Andrew gazed open-mouthed at the guy he was attempting to pick up sufficient courage to arrange his permanent disappearance.

"Well I be darned. You can never tell with women."

Claire said softly, "Well darling you have two unpredictable females to teach you that. Don't drink excessively tonight. I feel like a thorough reaming."

"Can we leave early?"

"No Andrew but let's close it down early."

"Attagirl Claire, I can always rely on you to come up with a compromise solution. Let's go over and greet the obviously very happy couple."



THE END



Cold Blue Steel



Zarah's eyelids fluttered as she moaned softly, waking up to a pounding headache... what had happened last night? She only remembered having two drinks, not nearly enough to be hung over... She stirred gently, and only then noticed that her movements were strangely restricted... Her eyelids flew open as she suddenly took in her surroundings, her eyes locking on wrists wrapped securely with rope and attached to leads bound to the bedposts of the big four-poster bed in which she lay. She struggled fiercely and screamed herself hoarse, trying to wriggle and pull herself free, or at least get someone's attention -- but it quickly became clear that her efforts were useless. The cords were just tied too tightly.

Heart beating frantically, she cast her eyes about the room, trying to get her bearings. The light was rather dim, but as her vision focused she could make out the room's details clearly. The bed that held her captive was the only furniture in sight... and she could see neither window nor door in her prison's smoothly curving walls. It was illuminated by the flickering light of many candelabra... which was reflected and seemingly magnified by a great number of ornate, gilded mirrors of all shapes and sizes that nearly covered the surface of both the walls and the ceiling. These decorations reflected the bed, and herself, from every angle. She shuddered, wondering what that could mean...

She now realized that she was still fully clothed in the red dress she wore last night. Her makeup was only slightly marred as she stared up at her reflection in the mirror above... her hair was a little tousled but she looked none the worse for wear, with the exception of being tied spread-eagle to a bed. She barked a laugh at the thought... 

Suddenly, she heard a door open somewhere beyond her vision, and her heart thrilled with terror. Footsteps came slowly around the bed, and in the scant light a familiar face looked down upon her. Her eyes widened in shock and surprise. "You!"

*********

Jeremy smiled as his eyes moved over her body slowly, taking in the way that the fabric of her dress clung to her curves as she twisted in her bonds, trying instinctively to escape the inescapable. He leaned close to her neck and breathed in her scent for only the second time, savoring it like a connoisseur savors a fine wine. She smelled of sweet pears... and of sex, he thought. The scent of her fruity perfume had faded in the night, and her own natural scent had become stronger. He could not wait to taste her...

He had been waiting for this night since the moment he first laid eyes on her, months ago. For nearly two years, he had been playing a regular weekend gig with a local blues band at a small bar. It didn't pay much, but the folks there were nice and the crowd appreciative... and it gave him something to do on weekends. 

He lived a rather solitary, if comfortable, life, on what he made as a studio musician. He had a nice house, an expensive car, and many lovely things... but that did not include female companionship. When the last woman who had been in his life had cruelly betrayed him -- so many years ago -- he had sworn off women and turned to his other love, music, for solace. He played at that little bar because it was the one thing that could make him forget his past and feel truly alive. It was a cold existence, and his mind felt strangely detached from reality... yet it was comfortable and familiar. Free of love, but also free of risks and pain. Just how he liked it.

But then she sauntered into his life. All alone, and dressed to kill in the selfsame gown she now wore... red and clinging, with a plunging neckline that showed off ample cleavage. Her long golden blonde hair was done in glamorous big curls and waves that framed her face like a 50s movie star, and she had the curves to go along with it. She looked out of place in such a low-class joint, but she didn't seem to care. She gave every appearance of being confident and relaxed as she tossed back a single shot of tequila and leaned back in her bar stool to look appraisingly at the band.

Her full lips were as red as her dress, and looked as if God in his tender mercies had designed them expressly for kissing... not that he believed in a God, but she was enough to make him consider the idea. Her body captured his attention, but it was her eyes that held his gaze... they were a vibrant bluish-greenish-grey that he could not quite put a name to. Yet he almost shivered at her glance when she turned his direction. How can something so beautiful have eyes that are so cold? he wondered.

She was not only alone, but also made no secret of her intention to stay that way. Her icy blue eyes flashed angrily at anyone who dared approach, warning off all but the boldest (and drunkest) of suitors. She dismissed both with casual disdain, intent on only one thing...

The music. He saw how she moved to the music; how, during the best parts when the band would hit that groove that cannot be described in words, she would close her eyes and drink it in like she had been thirsting for it all her life. She lost herself in it, until she WAS the music, and nothing else. After one of those moments, she opened her eyes and her glance met his. Without warning, her cold demeanor had melted away and fire now danced where only ice had reigned supreme. Suddenly he felt as if he was looking into a mirror. The same pain, the same longing... the same emptiness that had no name... but just as quickly, her icy armor slipped back into place. Her eyes were steel once more, and she looked away as if nothing had happened. 

That night, he had lain awake tossing and turning. Her eyes haunted him, and would not let him rest until he wrote a song about them. He hadn't been able to write lyrics for years, but that night they came unbidden to him and forced him to put them to paper. He wondered if he would ever see her again...

But he didn't have to wonder long, for she was back the next weekend... and the one after that, until she was accepted as one of the regulars. She always came alone and left the same way. The lead singer of the band, who was famously successful with women, tried to chat her up a few weekends later... but she put him in his place with such cold disdain that the band still made jokes about her steely gaze. "If looks could kill, this would be ground zero of the nuclear holocaust," they laughed. They figured that she must be a lesbian... but something caused Jeremy to doubt that very much.

Despite seeing her every weekend for months on end, Jeremy never got up the courage to speak to her... but he often found himself looking her direction. His most wonderful nights were those when she looked back and rewarded him with a rare smile. He fancied that she felt safe smiling at him alone, if only because she knew he would never dare approach... she was like a lioness in his imagination, so proud and beautiful, unable to yield to any but the true King of Beasts...

One night he asked the bartender for her name... and had exulted in the knowledge for a full week afterward. Zarah. He mouthed the name silently, savoring the taste of it. Sweet and soft. Like he knew she could be, if she would let herself...but she was closed, closed to everyone and everything, just like he had been until her steely eyes had shattered his armor...

Tonight, all that was going to change.

*********

Ever since moving into the city seven months ago, Zarah had been coming to this bar. For some reason she felt safe here. It was hardly a classy joint, but the drinks were cheap and the music was good. Really good, not what you would expect in a little hole in the wall. The same band played every weekend, and they had to be worth ten times what a place like this could afford... especially the lead guitarist. He was phenomenal, obviously a seasoned pro, and a born performer. She had heard her share of talented guitarists, but his sweet riffs practically made her toes curl in pleasure. She couldn't figure out what he was doing playing gigs at a divey little blues bar when he could probably be touring with a big-name band... Guess sometimes I just get lucky.


He was handsome, too, she thought. Long, dark blonde hair that hung loose about his face and tossed about like a golden mane when he played a solo... Piercing, deep-set hazel eyes that glinted from beneath a brow oft furrowed in concentration. Muscled arms that gave away the strength of his tall, lithe frame. A strong jawline that had a set of stubbornness about it, but only added to his appeal. And it was strange... she saw beautiful women try to talk to him during every break, but he always dismissed them politely. Not cold, exactly, but certainly aloof.

She caught him looking her direction far more often than mere coincidence would dictate... but he had never tried to talk to her. She even chanced a smile at him now and then, when she thought no one else was looking, and he always returned her smile in the most surprised, gratifying sort of way... but still, he did not approach her. She should be pleased that he had the good sense to leave her alone... but inwardly she was confused by his lack of interest. She didn't know why she cared... she did not want even friendship with a man, let alone romance... but her analytical mind was drawn to puzzles, and he was a walking, breathing, guitar-playing enigma.

She found herself thinking of him at odd times of the day. He wasn't married – there was no ring on his finger – nor had she ever seen him in the company of a woman. He was obviously unattached, yet unwilling to change that situation. There was a sort of... sameness... to him, pain in his eyes that could not be assuaged. She wondered if some woman could have hurt him as badly as she herself had been hurt... but no. She would not think of that. She would be strong, and forget the past.

She swiveled in her bar stool, sipping slowly at her margarita as the band finished their last song. Uncharacteristically, the lead singer had something to say. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you. Our very own guitar hero, Jeremy Aston, wrote a brand new song and we're gonna play it for you tonight. It took us months to convince him to sing it, so you'd better enjoy it," he finished with a wry grin.

So that's his name, she thought. Jeremy. It suits him somehow. I didn't know he could sing. She flashed him an encouraging smile as he stepped a little sheepishly to the front of the stage. But when he strummed the first chord, his self-consciousness vanished like smoke in the wind. He began to sing, and his voice was deep and clear and more beautiful than she could have hoped. A hint of an accent came through in his words... was it British? Australian? She strained to try and hear more of it while listening to his lyrics... 

Late at night I see you standing there
Tequila in your hand and a ribbon in your hair
Your face so beautiful, but your eyes are so cold
Makes me wonder who left you here all alone

And I think I might have to take a chance
Walk across the room and ask you to dance
'Cause I've been searching for someone with eyes of blue
And if your heart is broken, baby, mine is bleeding too

You act so confident, like you don't need anyone
But your eyes are haunted like you're under the gun
Swaying to the music, you look so fine
But I wonder if a girl like you could ever be mine

And I think I might have to roll the dice
Pull you close to me and whisper words to entice
'Cause I can feel your pain, I know it all too well
Love never dies, but it still hurts like hell

Oh baby, can't you see I'm lonely
I'm searchin' for my one and only
Too many sleepless nights, too many empty days
Since she walked out that door and we went our sep'rate ways

And I wonder if you could be the same
Does your heart beat true or is it all just a game?
'Cause your eyes tell of sorrow that cannot be said
And of a spirit long since broken, but not yet dead

All alone, we dance till the dawn
And something inside tells me you'll be movin' on
But I'll never forget the way you made me feel
With those sad eyes that pierced me like cold blue steel

You're an unsolved mystery, forever unrevealed
Beneath those lovely haunting eyes of cold blue steel.

*********

Jeremy finished the song and stepped back from the microphone. It felt good to sing one of his own songs, but he had more important things on his mind than music tonight. He smiled as his eyes fell on Zarah, whose face was glowing with pleasure from listening to his song. She was, quite uncharacteristically, even clapping with enthusiasm. She looked vivacious and enticing... and it was now or never. The band was leaving the stage for a break, and he began to move in her direction. The drummer stopped him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, don't tell me you're going to ruin your weekend by talking to her," he said, jerking his head Zarah's direction. "She'll make you sorry for weeks, man. It's not worth it."

Jeremy laughed easily, taking his friend's hand off his shoulder. "No worries, mate. I know what I'm doing." He felt the small vial in his jacket pocket as he walked toward her just to make sure it was still there. His heart was pounding in his ears so that he could hardly hear anything else. His eyes were locked on her as she took the final sip of her margarita, turning to place it back on the bar. He was behind her now, so close that he could breathe her scent, and he longed to touch the hair that shone like molten gold flowing down her back. He leaned in and spoke quietly in her ear so that she could hear above the din.

"Thanks for clapping," was all he said. She turned, eyes wide with startlement as he summarily shattered their unspoken agreement to... well, to never speak.

"You're welcome," she replied a bit uncertainly. It was all he could do to not close his eyes and savor that voice of hers. Rich and sweet, and smooth as butter. Better than he had imagined.

"I noticed that your drink is empty," he said, trying to speak more confidently than he felt. "Might I buy you another?"

"I don't usually let men buy me drinks," she said, hesitation in her eyes. 

Jeremy could almost see her icy armor hovering nearby, ready for her to don again at need, but it was not yet back in place... he had one shot at this, so he put on his best charming smile. "But I'm not JUST a man. You heard Brian up there a minute ago. I'm a guitar hero!"

She burst out laughing in spite of herself. "Well, I especially don't let guitar heroes buy me drinks. They're the worst of the lot."

"We are pretty bad," Jeremy agreed, grinning. "But that usually means we end up getting what we want."

She gave him an appraising glance. "And what do you want, Mr. Aston?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Miss..."

"Call me Zarah," she replied, a trace of a smile still playing around her lips. "I assure you that I've heard it all before. But I'm curious, in the off chance that you might have something interesting to say... so I will indulge you."

"Very well, Zarah. I'm Jeremy. And I will tell you exactly what I want," he said, winking and gesturing for her to lean forward so he could whisper in her ear: "I want to order you a drink so I can secretly taint it with tasteless but powerful sedatives that I have cleverly hidden in my jacket pocket. Then, I will play the gentleman and promise to see you home, but instead spirit you off to my secret lair, and make you mine forever." He leaned back, and looked at her questioningly. "Would that be alright with you?"

His overly serious, hopeful expression after that deadpan delivery sent Zarah into peals of laughter. "Well, Jeremy... I must say that you don't disappoint," she replied a bit breathlessly in spite of herself. "I had NOT heard that one before. Fine. For making me laugh like that, you can buy me a drink. But don't expect it to happen again."

Jeremy's face burst into a cocksure grin. "Oh, I won't," he replied, "but my mates back there are still going to be pretty jealous."

"Gotta keep 'em guessing, right?"

"Yeah, something like that," Jeremy agreed, then raised his voice and looked over at the bartender. "Hey, Lou, bring the lady a Sex on the Beach, and put it on my tab." Lou looked impressed, and started mixing the drink immediately.

"A girl drink?" Zarah asked, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Well, you ARE a girl," replied Jeremy.

"Fine. I admit it, I do like them," she admitted with a touch of reluctance. "Just... don't tell anybody, okay?"

"Your secret is safe with me, lioness," he assured her softly as the bartender set the drink on the counter.

"I trust you," said Zarah, still smiling in spite of herself. "But please excuse me a moment. I'll be right back." She slid off her bar stool and walked to the ladies' room. 

Perfect! Jeremy thought as he appreciatively watched her saunter away. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, removed the vial from his pocket and surreptitiously tipped the contents into her glass, then slipped the vial back out of sight. The band was motioning for him to come up so they could play the last set of the night, so he left the drink for her to enjoy...

*********

Zarah's struggles renewed their vigor, but she knew it was no use. Jeremy had her trapped now, and she was at his mercy.

"Yes, me." Jeremy gave her a gentle smile. "You should have believed me when I told you what I wanted."

"But... I trusted you!" Zarah protested.

"Ah, and I was touched by your gesture of goodwill," he replied, tenderly brushing a strand of hair out of her face as he sat down next to her on the bed. "Leaving so I could have a chance to drug your drink without your knowing... that was a nice touch. I think you were practically begging me to do this."

"Please," whispered Zarah softly. "Please, just let me go, and we'll forget this ever happened. I know you're a nice guy. You don't want to hurt me."

"You're right," said Jeremy, leaning over her to caress her neck and shoulders, then running his fingertips lightly up and down her bare arms as he looked deeply into her eyes. His expression was surprisingly tender, yet determined. "I don't want to hurt you, my sweet captive lioness. But I might have to if you don't cooperate with me. You said you trusted me. Trust me now, and I will make this night one you will never want to forget."

Zarah's blue eyes were no longer cold nor steely as they filled with tears. "Jeremy... why?"

"Never mind why right now," Jeremy growled, drawing a switchblade from his pocket. A long, wicked-looking blade sprung from one end of the handle quicker than thought with a snapping sound. "We have something else to do first."

Zarah tensed at the sight of the knife, which gleamed brightly in the flickering candlelight. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked fearfully.

"I already told you," said Jeremy as he climbed onto the bed and straddled her. "I am going to make you mine. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably." He placed the knife against her throat – its steel was very cold indeed – and leaned down to kiss her.

First, he kissed her forehead, and then each of her eyelids, then her cheekbones, then her jawline... he worked his way slowly down her face, covering it in light kisses but pointedly avoiding her mouth. His lips were soft, and his breath hot on her skin... Her nose was filled with his musky scent as his right hand caressed her side lightly and his right pressed the flat of the blade – not too hard – against her throat. Her senses, heightened by fear, were slowly becoming overwhelmed... why does he not kiss my lips? her mind wondered wildly even as she fought the sensations of the first male body pressed against her in well over a year. She shivered in pleasure despite herself as he lightly outlined her ear with his tongue, then whispered "What do you want, lioness?"




Cold Blue Steel



"I... I want you to let me go!" she cried stridently.

"Ah, ah," whispered Jeremy, his voice scolding her between kisses laid on her neck, "your body is telling me otherwise. Your lips are pursed, slightly parted. Your breath is coming faster. I can feel your heart beating fiercely against my chest. You are begging for me to kiss you. Pleading for my lips to envelop yours."

"N-no! I could never – Let me go!" she insisted again, wriggling and struggling. He groaned as she moved sinuously beneath him, but stopped his caresses and pressed the knife against her throat a bit harder, looking directly into her eyes. She stopped moving instantly and held perfectly still, frozen in fear. His eyes were not tender, but angry.

"I do not like it when women lie," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I will gladly give you what you want, Zarah. Everything you have ever wanted. But if you will not tell me what you are longing for... then I will take what I want instead." 

The tip of the knife slid down from her throat and traced slowly down the center of her chest; she was paralyzed by fear and wondering when he would press hard enough to cut her flesh... in one rapid, violent motion he seized her gown's neckline with one hand and sliced it open from top to bottom with the other. She screamed in terror as the two halves of the gown fell aside, revealing her body for his inspection... 

Zarah's body was the sort that had gone out of style many years ago. She was ripe, but not quite overblown, with full, soft curves and snow-white skin befitting a Venus of days past. Jeremy licked his lips hungrily as he eyed her large, luscious breasts encased in a lacy black bra, along with matching black lace panties and garter belt holding up sheer black stockings. She had a perfectly balanced hourglass figure despite her little tummy, which was invitingly soft as he traced his fingers along it for a moment... 

"Hold still," he commanded her as she began to squirm under his touch. She obeyed instantly. With a few flicks of the knife, he cut through her bra straps and then right between the cups, jerking the lace away roughly and freeing her enormous breasts from their prison... they rolled slightly to the sides, small pink nipples pointed skyward, surrounded by pale tan areoles.

"Mmmm," he said, almost reverently, as he ran a hand lightly over the swell of her right breast "so big, so soft... I'd need two hands for each to give them proper attention..." He withdrew his hand and began caressing each breast slowly with the flat of his wicked-looking blade, so cold on her skin that it made her nipples harden instantly. Zarah held her breath, afraid to even move lest he cut her, but she could not help jerking a bit all the same as the cold steel rubbed against her nipples.

"Careful, love," he murmured softly, "or I'll be leaving you one nipple short."

The intense sensation of cold massaging her nipple was almost too much to take. Zarah fought it hard, but after a moment her body responded anyway... she closed her eyes and arched her back as if to give him better access, just as a soft moan escaped her lips. 

"Open your eyes," Jeremy ordered, seizing her chin with one hand and, pressing the steel into her soft flesh a tiny bit harder. 

Zarah opened her eyes, not daring to disobey, her heart pounding in her chest... Jeremy gestured to the mirror directly above them. "Look at yourself. Look at how beautiful you are, how turned on you've become by what I am doing. Your skin is flushed; your nipples are hard, and you are moaning and arching your back for me."

Zarah looked, and to her great shame she saw he was right... she was tied up and being ravaged against her will, and her body loved every bit of it. The adrenaline coursed through her, heightening every sensation, and she looked up into her own pupils, dilated with lust, and almost wanted to come right then... but then she looked back into her rapist's eyes, and her senses came back to her at least a little. She tried to shake her head no, to protest... but he seized her chin again and held her head still.

"You will not deny it," he said forcefully. "You love being tied up and treated like a little slut, because inside that's what you really are. Here, I will prove it to you." He traced the tip of the knife slowly down her belly, careful not to break her skin, and then with two quick motions sliced through the strings of her black lace bikini panties, then grabbed the crotch with the other hand and easily ripped them away, exposing her most sacred of places... her scent wafted in the air, fully released at last, and he leaned down to breathe it deeply, inhaling its sweet musk. 

He examined her admiringly, licking his lips... it was all he could do not to dive in and taste her right this moment, but he knew that it was not yet time. Her pussy was so very inviting, completely smooth and silky soft to the touch, except for a thin strip of closely trimmed hair that ran up the center of her mound. "Perfectly manicured," he commented. "Strange for a woman that rejected every suitor who called upon her. Did you keep yourself waxed for me, just in case?" he asked teasingly. Zarah blushed, but he did not give her time to answer. "Now for the moment of truth," he said, running a fingertip lightly up her slit; even as he did so, another soft moan escaped her lips. He drew it away, slick and glistening with her juices, and held it up for her to see. "You are soaking wet, my dear," he said triumphantly. "I've barely even begun to touch you... but while you were protesting, you were also creaming in your little black panties. What a slutty little tease you are, getting off on a man wanting you but pretending not to want him back."

Zarah looked away, full of shame... what he said was true, and she could not deny it. She had gone home with a damp spot in her panties from the men who came on to her at the bar more than once, but most often it was because Jeremy had stared at her so very longingly... now, she could not remember being wetter in her entire life, and it was this... this monster that was making her that way... she looked back up at him hesitantly, and a smile was playing about the corner of his lips as if he knew what she was thinking.

"I think that you deserve some punishment for lying to me, my little whore," he said matter-of-factly as he climbed off the bed. The switchblade slid back into its handle with a snap, and he tossed it aside to pluck a candle from one of the nearby stands. 

"We know you like being an object of desire, and you obviously enjoy being dominated and humiliated," he said. "But I wonder... do you fancy a little pain?" With that, he tipped the candle to drip a bit of hot wax onto her chest, just above her breasts. 

She flinched; the heat stung at first, but it was not unbearable. "Hmm..." he said, dripping a larger amount onto her right breast; when a drop hit her nipple, she cried out loudly. It hurt for a moment, but then the warmth aroused her further; her hips involuntarily bucked, and Jeremy smiled even more broadly as he dripped wax onto her left breast as well, and down her belly, creating a trail of red splotches that contrasted pleasingly with her pale skin as she writhed against her bonds in a most gratifying fashion... "Oh yes, my love," he said in a pleased tone of voice. "I think you like it quite well."

He replaced the candle and then leaned down over her stomach, peeling off the wax gently bit by bit, moving slowly upwards as he caressed her tortured skin... the heat had brought her blood vessels up to the surface of the skin to make it hyper-sensitive so that the most feather-light touch evoked intense sensation. Her chest heaved as her breathing quickened... she both longed for and dreaded what was coming as he worked his way up slowly to her breasts... 

He peeled the wax from her right breast slowly, then all at once his hot mouth was on her nipple, sucking and licking, while his fingers freed the other nipple from the wax and started to palm it and tease it gently... she bucked her hips harder and moaned, much louder this time, hardly able to comprehend the feelings that washed over her. He climbed onto the bed and straddled her once more, cupping her right breast with one hand to lift it to his mouth as he began to suck harder, drawing the nipple further in and pulling it up and away, then nipping lightly, then biting at it as he pinched and twisted the other between his fingers. Zarah screamed, then moaned even louder...it hurt, but it also felt like nothing she had ever experienced; she was riding that fine edge between pleasure and pain, and the heat was building in her pussy. She had had orgasms before from nipple stimulation only, long ago, and she knew she was heading straight for one if he kept it up. She wanted to come, needed desperately to come, and in the intensity of the moment she was losing all her wits and inhibitions, forgetting that she was there against her will... She began to move more rhythmically beneath him, trying to rub herself up against his body... she was SO close... but he seemed to sense what she was doing and he stopped and pulled away, climbing off the bed again. She whimpered in disappointment and dismay, and he laughed.

"So... you're one of those women who can come like that, are you? Just by touching your nipples?"

Zarah nodded, breathing hard, still squirming a little bit in her desire to reach orgasm.

"Stop moving," Jeremy commanded, seeing how very close she was. 

Zarah whimpered again, looking at him pleadingly, but she did as she was told. 

"You want to come very badly, don't you, slut?" he asked.

"Yesssss..." she hissed, barely able to keep herself from bucking her hips again. 

"Well, too bad. You come when I decide you can, and not before." Jeremy watched her for a moment, waiting for her breathing to slow. He began to unbutton his shirt, and she could not help but watch with interest. He was admittedly thin but had a well-defined stomach and a hairy chest... very manly, she thought approvingly before she could catch herself. Her heart started pounding a little harder as he slipped off his jeans and then his boxers. A lovely rock-hard cock sprang to attention as it was freed... long and thick, she wanted to lick her lips at the sight of it; she needed it very badly... but she knew she must resist.

"You like what you see, don't you?" he asked. 

Zarah looked away, blushing profusely in shame.

"I saw you watching. You want this cock. I can see it."

He was, again, telling the truth... she wanted his prick buried in her soaking wet pussy to the hilt; she wanted him to fuck her until she came all over it... which, at this rate, would take all of three seconds. Her body was betraying her again; she was trembling, she wanted it so much... but she did not turn to face him. 

"Look at me," he ordered in a gentler tone, cupping her chin and making her look deeply into his hazel eyes. "Tell me what you want, Zarah."

She nearly melted at his touch, at the sound of his voice saying her name so tenderly; his eyes held her gaze and she could not look away, did not want to look away... she felt suddenly vulnerable and longing and and lustful and angry all at once... but she held her silence. I will not give in, she thought defianttly.

Jeremy held her chin for a moment, forcing himself not to smile. Her eyes were angry, but they were full of heat rather than ice now; blue fire danced for him in his lioness' gaze. But still, she must learn, must understand... 

"Since you refuse to answer me, then I will take what I want, and you will do as I require," he said. He picked back up the knife and its blade sprung free once more of its casing, and he tossed it from hand to hand casually, a determined expression on his face. "I am going to cut you free," he explained, his voice low and menacing, "and you are going to hold still while I do. Once I am finished, you are going to get off this bed and kneel on the floor before me. If you do not, you will be very, very sorry. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Zarah said softly, tears welling up in her eyes. Her pussy was still throbbing with desire, but fear was rising in her chest once more...

"Good," he said tersely as he began to slice through the cords that held her to the bedpost. She did not move an inch until all four ropes were cut, then she quickly slid off the bed and down onto the plush carpet, grateful for the freedom of movement she was allowed. "Here, slave," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him. She moved with alacrity, kneeling as gracefully as she could and not daring to look up into his angry eyes. 

"Good girl," he said approvingly, stroking her soft hair. "You are learning to obey." Without warning, he seized a handful of her hair close in to her head and pulled her towards him, slapping her cheek roughly with his hard cock. "Now, you're going to be a good little whore and suck my cock... and you'd better do a very thorough job of it." 

He slapped her other cheek with his cock, then pressed the head against her lips. She opened her mouth obediently and he pushed her head forward, forcing her to take it deeply. Her mouth was very small and he could tell that she was having trouble, but she opened her jaw wide and wrapped her ruby red lips around his dick, starting to suck lightly, and playing her tongue against the underside, licking the underside of the head as she drew back only to plunge it back into her mouth. After a few moments he was not moving her head at all; his hand was still tangled in her hair, but she was doing everything of her own volition, and with fervor. She wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and began gently playing with his balls with the other, picking up her rhythm... now a groan escaped HIS lips, and he found himself growing still harder, if that were possible... looking down at his fantasy woman eagerly sucking on his cock like there was no tomorrow... it made him want to explode right there, but he held back...

Zarah heard Jeremy groan in pleasure, and she looked up at him... if her mouth wasn't so full of cock, she would have smiled. She felt the power that she now had over him, and in spite of the fact that she knew it was wrong, she wanted to give him pleasure... she knew she was turning him on and that, in turn, aroused her further until she was moaning around his cock, sending the vibrations down his shaft as she began to suck harder, moving faster up and down his shaft, and she felt his balls start to tighten in her hand.

Jeremy seized her hair again and pulled her off his cock roughly, wrapping his hand around his shaft just as he came as hard as he ever had in his life; he aimed the first jet of cum at her forehead, then the next landed across her cheek and nose... the last drenched her luscious red lips. He leaned back and looked at his composition like a painter at a canvas; her face looked so beautiful painted with his cum. She opened her eyes and, wonder of wonders, licked her lips and smiled.

Jeremy did not return the smile. "If you think we are done here, you are wrong," he said sternly. "You obviously enjoyed that far too much for it to be a proper punishment." He walked over to the bed and sat down. "Come here, and lie down on my lap. You've been a very naughty little whore."

Zarah stood up, looking rather bewildered... she was sure that he had come very hard just now, and she thought he would be pleased... what had she done wrong? Her pussy was still on fire and dripping wet, and her face was covered in sticky cum... she wished he would let her clean it...

"I said, COME HERE," growled Jeremy, leaving no room for argument. She jumped, startled, and came quickly to his side. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her forcefully down, pulling her across his lap face-down so her round, pillowy ass was right across his lap. She still wore the garter belt and stockings, which framed her ass so very nicely... with a sight like this before him, he knew it wouldn't be long before he would be rock-hard again. "You're a nasty little slut with cum all over your face," he said, reaching underneath her to rub her clit. She tensed and moaned deeply, grinding against his hand. "And what's more, you liked it. You liked being forced to suck on a cock, and you liked licking my cum off your lips and swallowing it like a little whore. I can tell because you're so wet you've made a mess of my hand already."

Zarah only moaned; his fingers felt so good on her clit at last. She needed to come so badly she could scream; she'd never been so desperate for anything in her entire life... she felt empty, hollow inside as if she needed to be filled up... filled with a cock...

"Please," she said very softly, grinding on his hand.

"I can't hear you," Jeremy said. "Look at me, and speak up."

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes pleading with his, and spoke louder this time. "Please."

"Please what?" Jeremy asked, knowing full well what she wanted.

"I need it."

SLAP! His hand landed hard on her ass, making her soft flesh jiggle a little. She jerked, looking startled, but then his hand was rubbing her clit again. "What a nasty little tease you are, and what you need is a good spanking," said Jeremy. He spanked her ass again, harder this time, and she cried out... but he was back to rubbing her clit, and she was becoming uncontrollably turned on...

SLAP! His hand landed hard on her ass again, and she moaned. "What do you want, slut?"

"I want you," she said pleadingly.

SLAP! "What do you want me to do?" he asked, rubbing her clit a little harder.

"I want you to fuck me," she cried out, no longer in control of her body; she was humping his hand as his spanking turned her ass all splotchy red... his cock was getting hard again just looking at it...

SLAP! "How do you want me to fuck you, whore?"

"I- I want you to put your hard cock in my – my tight little pussy and fuck me hard!"

SLAP! Jeremy groaned this time; his cock was getting hard and her movements were humping up against it; hearing her ask for his cock in her pussy was getting him even harder. He slid two fingers into her, and marveled at how her wet, hot pussy gripped them like a vise. "Mmm, you are tight, aren't you? Beg for it, slave."

Zarah looked back at him with big, desperate, pleading blue eyes, her face streaked with his cum, still humping his hard cock with her soaking wet pussy. "Please, Jeremy... Please, I am begging you, I need it so bad! Please fuck my pussy with your hard cock!"

SLAP! "Ohhhh, that's my very good, very naughty little slut. And she will get exactly what she wants, right now." He pushed her off his lap and they both stood up for a moment, only for him to seize her wrists again and throw her down on the bed, on her back this time. He forced her stockinged legs apart roughly, positioning himself between them. His rock-hard dick rubbed against her clit as he pressed himself against her, then leaned down... his lips were upon hers at last, his tongue probing her mouth deeply, desperately as she passionately returned his kiss. He slid his cock down her slit ever so slowly and positioned it at her entrance, then pulled back from the kiss and looked into her eyes.

"I love you, Zarah," he said as he rammed his cock into her with a single stroke, causing her to cry out in pain and joy and pleasure all at once. He held it there for a moment, then began to work it in and out, slowly at first... she began to move with him, gripping and massaging his cock with her pussy, as the pace steadily increased... he shifted, grabbing her hips, and then he found her G-spot and she cried out in pleasure. "That's right, love," he said, pumping his dick in and out of her, hard and fast, hitting her G-spot with every stroke, and making her moan and thrash on the bed... "I want you to come for me... I want you to come so hard all over my cock that you scream my name!" 




Cold Blue Steel



Her moans became steadily louder, and her body tensed as she wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deep into her and digging her nails into his back, and her pussy spasmed hard on his cock as she came, squirting hot, wet juices while she screamed his name at the top of her lungs, "JEREMY! Oh, God, yes! Don't stop... please..." The spasms seemed to go on for ages; a brief eternity of bliss while he fucked in and out of her, soaked in her cum, with her screaming and begging for more...

As the spasms subsided, he pulled out of her and admired her body once more, now slicked with sweat from her exertion. She looked pleadingly up at him, disappointment in her voice. "You're stopping already?"

"No, sweetheart," he said lovingly, pushing a strand of hair back from her face, "but it is time for me to taste you at last." He began to kiss his way slowly down her body, and she moaned again. "I would have done it much sooner, if you had been more... cooperative," he reminded her just before he dived in, "but I want to taste your cum on my tongue before we are finished."

She moaned as he flicked his tongue quickly against her swollen, still sensitive clit, sending aftershocks through her body, and then sighed as he began to lap at her slit, long, slow strokes that went from bottom to top. He paused and looked up at her, tenderness in his eyes once more. "You taste so sweet, love, just like I knew you would," he said, before he went back to licking... then he started work on her clit in earnest, holding on to her hips so she could not wriggle away. He licked and probed at her clit with his tongue, then sucked it into his mouth, making her cry out again and causing her hips to buck wildly. He looked up at her, lips wet with her juices, and smiled. "What do you want, sweetie?" he asked.

"I want your cock in my pussy again," Zarah said without hesitation this time. "Please?" she added hopefully.

"Very well," Jeremy said, smiling, "but this time you'll have to ride me." He lay down on the bed and she climbed astride him. He positioned himself at her entrance again and pulled her hips down onto him hard, impaling her on his prick. He groaned as he felt her slide down his shaft, gripping him once more with that tight little cunt of hers. "Ohhh, that's a good slut," he said. "Ride me hard, and I'll promise to give you what you deserve."

And ride hard she did... bouncing up and down on his shaft so that he could watch her big tits bounce around for a bit, then leaning forward and gripping the headboard of the bed to get a better purchase as she pistoned her hips, forcing her pussy up and down his cock as her clit rubbed against his pubic bone. They watched the erotic sight from many angles in the room's multitude of mirrors, and the vision of their union drove them to even greater heights of passion... Her tits dangled in his face like delectable melons ripe for the picking, and he grabbed them and suckled on them, biting them and pinching the nipples to make her moan even louder as she rode him harder and faster, as if her life depended on it... the sensations building until it was like a dam burst inside her, and she leaned back and let loose a mighty scream as she came again, flooding his cock with her juices once more. 

She slid off his still-hard cock, exhausted, her pussy swollen and over-sensitive from its stimulation... but Jeremy wasn't finished yet. "On your knees, love," he said, and she obeyed immediately. He got behind her and pushed her down gently so she rested on her elbows, her still-red ass pointing invitingly up into the air. He slid yet again into her pussy, fucking her more slowly this time... but then she felt a curious sensation of something wet dripping into the crack of her ass... 

"What...?" she asked, confused.

"Trust me," Jeremy said as a finger started to probe gently at her now slicked little pink rosebud while he still fucked her pussy... he pressed harder and poured more lube downward, making it pool around his finger and slide in along with his finger as he breached her ring of resistance gently... "Soooo tight," he said appreciatively.

She cried out, more in surprise than pain because her arousal was still so great, and his hard dick in her pussy distracted her from the sensations. "Please," she murmured worriedly.

Jeremy began sliding his finger in and out of her ass as he fucked her, slowly at first, and then faster. "Please what?" he asked.

"Please... don't do this," Zarah pleaded. "I've never..."

"You've never had a cock in your ass?" supplied Jeremy helpfully as he began to tease her clit again with his other hand. She moaned deeply as he fucked both her holes and teased her clit all at once; the sensation was almost too much to bear.

"Yesssss..." She hissed. "I don't..."

"Yes you do. You want this thick cock in your ass. You just don't know it yet," reassured Jeremy, sliding a second finger into Zarah's ass and starting to finger it a little harder... Zarah moaned loudly, still unused to the powerful sensation. Jeremy's voice became harder as well as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back towards him hard. "And whether or not you want it, it's what you're going to get. I promised you what you deserved if you rode me like a good slut. You rode me like a VERY good slut... and THIS is what a very good slut deserves. A big dick, right up her tight little virgin ass." He released her hair, slid out of her pussy and positioned herself at her backdoor, still rubbing her clit and making her moan softly. "Now relax and open up for me, love, or this is going to hurt more than it has to."

Zarah was nervous and afraid of the pain, but she wanted to please him so badly... she tried her best to focus on the sensations of her clit while he pressed into her, gently at first, and then harder... at last, he was past her resistance. It hurt for a moment, and then just felt very strange and intense as he slid further into her, very slowly and gently, groaning in pleasure. After what seemed like several minutes, just when she thought she could take no more, he stopped moving completely. "I'm all in you, my little slut," he said, teasing her clit a little harder while he held it inside her, letting her adjust... "Does it make you feel dirty, having a cock in your ass?"

"Yesss..." Zarah moaned.

"Do you like being my slutty little slave and pleasing me?"

"Yesssss..." she hissed as he teased her clit even harder.

"That's my good little girl," Jeremy said, and then he began to slowly slide in and out of her ass, just a little bit at first, but slowly increasing the movement and tempo... as Zarah got used to it, she began to moan even more loudly... she felt like such a dirty whore taking it up the ass for her rapist, but it was starting to feel so good, and more... intense... than anything she had ever felt... suddenly, Jeremy grabbed her hair again, close to the base of her skull, and pulled her back on his cock hard. She screamed in pain and pleasure as he began pulling her up and down his cock by her hair, slamming all the way in and out of her ass while relentlessly rubbing her clit. She screamed again, then began to grind back against him, writhing and almost struggling to escape his grasp as she came for the third time, her ass gripping his cock and spasming. Jeremy moaned loudly; it was all too much for him at last. "God, yes! Zarah, I'm cumming!" he growled as he released her hair, grabbing her hips to push into her hard one last time. His cock jerked hard as he shot his second load deep inside her ass, filling it full of his cum with a primal cry of conquest. 

They collapsed together onto the bed, side by side, both utterly spent at last. He smiled gently and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and looking deeply into her beautiful blue eyes, now warm and gentle as the tropical waters of the Caribbean.

"How do you feel now, my love?" he asked her softly, almost hesitantly.

She looked at him confusedly, then buried her head in his chest. "I'm... I feel happy, but... I'm so confused," she admitted softly.

He lifted her chin to look into her eyes, now filled with tears. "I know. What just happened is very complicated... but I want you to try and understand."

"Okay," said Zarah. "Make me understand."

"You see, I fell in love with you... not just because you are beautiful and sexually desirable, but because there is a... sameness... about you and me. We both live lonely lives because someone has hurt us very badly."

Zarah nodded. She had been right about him, and he about her.

"I know it's wrong, but you are the most priceless creature I have ever laid eyes on, and I knew that you were the only woman I could ever want after that. I tried to think of a way to approach you, to get you to open up to me... but every way I could think of ended in your discarding me, just like the last woman I loved did... And I can't bear to lose you."

"So... you decided to just rape me instead," said Zarah angrily, trying to push him away.

Jeremy caught her hands in his, stopping her. "Wait. I... it was more than that. I wanted to show you how much I wanted you, needed you, had to have you. Your proud heart is such that you need to be wanted and loved... but also you need to be owned to be free and happy."

"Owned?" asked Zarah, taken aback.

"You like not having a choice," he explained. "You like being told what to do... you know it is true." He paused for a moment, and swallowed, his brow furrowed as if in thought. "I also wanted you to know that you mean everything to me, and that I would stake everything on being with you and nobody else."

"Wh... what?" Zarah said, confused. "What do you mean?"

Jeremy reached down to the floor and picked up the switchblade that was still lying there. The blade sprung from the handle once more, and Zarah recoiled in horror.

"No! My love, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you," Jeremy promised, taking her hand and pulling her upright with him to sit on the edge of the bed. "Or at least, not except if I thought it would bring you more pleasure. Here." He took her hand and wrapped it around the handle of the knife gently. "It is very sharp, so be careful."

"Why are you giving this to me?"

"Listen carefully, love. Here on the right side of my neck is the jugular vein and the carotid artery. All you have to do is stab a couple inches in about here," he indicated a place just below the ear, "and slice about halfway across my neck, and I'll die quickly and painlessly."

"WHAT?!"

"My life is in your hands. I've made sure there's evidence that I abducted and raped you. You can kill me and plead self-defense – just say you got the knife out of my hands – or, if you'd rather, you can turn me in to the police, convict me and send me to prison. I'll plead guilty, I promise."

"Jeremy... I don't understand..."

"This is the only way I can even hope to make this up to you, Zarah. I didn't know what else to do... so I decided to take you. In return, you can decide what to do with me." He slipped off the bed and knelt before her. "I am yours, to live or die as you choose."

Zarah began to weep. She dropped the knife; it fell to the floor with a clatter along with everything that was left of the cold steel still in her heart.

"What do you want now, lioness?" he asked softly, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. 

She sank onto the floor next to him and gripped his face, looking deep into his eyes. "I want to be yours. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably."

"You... do?" he asked incredulously.

"Jeremy... I love you," she whispered.

They held each other in the flickering candlelight, tears of joy in their eyes, for what seemed like hours... for lion and lioness had found one another at last.