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S&P: Interrogation Ch. 01

By: Captain Midnight



 Based on his play "Good Cop, Bad Cop" For the series of stories created by Patricia51 and Linda_s

A detective investigates the murder of a gay man, which may be tied to a TV show where he "outed" another man.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote the play more than two years ago, and I still haven't turned it into a story -- this bit is the prequel, entirely separate. At least this part will stand on its own with a romantic sex scene. Since I'm working on a novel right now (with some characters I created separately, working with Patricia51's famous Bridget O'Brien), I have to choose what I want to work on next. Please let me know if the sex is good enough and the story is intriguing, and if I have a good mix.

Thanks to LadyCibelle, my editor, who asked for two small changes and gave major encouragement. She is a beautiful woman where it counts ... in the heart.

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

Detective Sergeant Carol Wilson ducked underneath the tape stretched across the crime scene – in this case, the front porch of a house in a nice neighborhood. Detective Corporal Darrell Evans extended a warm hand of welcome to her as she entered the house.

"Great to see you, Sarge. Too bad it's under circumstances like these."

"Keep up the good work, Evans, and you'll be a Sergeant like me and we might partner up. You know Sergeant Adams is in line for a promotion."

Evans grinned. "The two of you are too good a team to break up. You ever watch Cagney and Lacey on Lifetime? Even when the two actresses couldn't stand each other, they still got six Emmy Awards between them. And you and Sergeant Adams really are close friends." Evans shook his head. "Damn, if I thought I had half a chance, I would have dated both of you at the same time."

"That's why you'll never get married, Evans. You can't spell 'commitment' without a dictionary. Adams and I have ten and fifteen years respectively to our mates." 

"Hell, even I can figure that out. I should have quadruple-dated both couples to find out what makes relationships tick," replied Evans with a toothy grin.

"Sextuple dated," fired back the Sergeant. "My mom and dad. Maybe even octuple-dated, Josh and Samantha Crane. How's motherhood agreeing with her?"

"She e-mailed and said she's going to have another one. And they're both in line for promotions. Beats me how working parents do it."

"My mom and dad had five and they did just fine," Sergeant Wilson replied. "But time is wasting. What do you have?"

"Homicide. Male, Caucasian, that's all we know for sure at this point. He took two loads of buckshot pretty close. One in the face and chest, and the other in the back, probably after he turned to run away. We searched the house – no sign of forced entry. In a nutshell, we think he's the homeowner, he knew the killer, let him or her in, killer whipped out the shotgun and let him have it. Killer took off like a bunny rabbit.

"There's one thing, though," said Evans, pointing to a nice hedge which bordered the porch. "See how badly those branches are messed up?" It was obvious that something had damaged the well-manicured hedge.

"I have a hypothesis," Evans said. "The hypothesis is that the killer threw the weapon into the hedge in flight. Then, whoops, he came back and got it. He must have flung it pretty hard. When he pulled it out, he broke a bunch of branches."

"That's all the supporting evidence you have?" Sergeant Wilson asked. 

"I think there's more than just the broken branches," Evans said. "There's a funny-looking scratch on the outside wall of the house, just above the hedge. Pretty sure something metal and cylindrical made it. Like the muzzle of the shotgun."

"Well, stick to what you're sure of for the time being," Sergeant Wilson replied. "Let's go inside and see the body."

The dead man lay face down. One look at him seemed to confirm that he knew his killer – he was wearing pajama pants, a bathrobe and socks, as if he had just risen from bed to answer the door. Evans reported that the door had two bolts and a chain lock, all of which were unfastened. That seemed to preclude the killer shoving his or her way into the house, but you never knew.

The trail of blood at least five or six steps from the door. There was the possibility that the killer, after being admitted, had shoved the shotgun into the victim's chest and pushed him backward for some distance. There was also the possibility that the victim had grabbed for the shotgun by the muzzle at some point – his left hand was mangled and showed signs of close-up powder burns on the palm. The first set of wounds, to the face and chest, were from no more than a foot away; the second set, in the back, probably came from at least twelve feet, indicating the victim had survived the first blast and had started running away when the killer fired again. 

As Evans was pointing this out, a uniformed officer came down from upstairs, holding an evidence bag containing a man's wallet. The uniformed officer said she had found the wallet on a night table in the bedroom. Evans signed for the bag and went through the wallet. 

"The homeowner's?" Sergeant Wilson inquired. 

"Looks like it," Evans replied. "The driver's license matches this address, and the specifications for the man in the picture match the deceased. Name is … George Harvey. Something wrong, Sergeant?"

Sergeant Wilson had stood and backed up, her eyes wide. "I think so." She mused.

"You know the TV show Bring 'Em On Out? The one that brings celebrity guests on and then confronts them with their unsavory pasts?"

"I don't watch reality TV," Sergeant Evans said haughtily.

"Get used to checking it out," Sergeant Wilson said. "I was cooking dinner last night, my husband was watching preseason football and there was a promo for it, big as life. He called me into the living room and pointed to it. 'Coming up this season, he's in YOUR neighborhood and LOOK who's waiting for him.'" 

Evans acted like he really didn't want to figure it out, but he spoke anyway. "Was the deceased on camera?"

"Give that man ten silver dollars," Sergeant Wilson replied, using a line from a vintage game show. "Call Information and get the number for –" she gave the call letters and channel number of one of the local TV stations. "I want to see that promo. I think they were promoting the show for the fall season, so I don't think the episode has aired yet."

Evans called Information on his cell phone and was patched through to the TV station. Sergeant Wilson took the phone from him and asked to speak to the traffic director, the one in charge of promos. She made an appointment to come up to the station and check the schedule. When she hung up, Evans looked at her quizzically.

"Was this guy in the promo, do you remember? And was anyone else with him?"

"I think yes to the first question, but I'll have to look at the tape to make sure. I didn't see anyone in particular besides the host on the show. I'll find out some things." Sergeant Wilson got out her own cell phone and brought up another number, to Sergeant Sue Adams of Detective Squad. After exchanging pleasantries, she put in to set an appointment with a judge regarding possible search warrants. 

When Sergeant Wilson rang off, Evans asked her: "Is there anything else you want to look at?"

"No, but seal off this house for a few days. Sergeant Adams will get the required orders. I have a feeling we may have to burn some shoe leather or car tires or both to find out what we want."

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

"You look tired, baby."

Thus Lieutenant Roger Wilson to his wife, who sat at the family computer. She had just tucked in five-year-old Tricialeigh and had come back to surf the Web. Tricialeigh had been working on her kindergarten homework, and Mom and Dad alternated checking and explaining the lessons to her. She wasn't so tired that she couldn't turn around and kiss him.

"It's kind of cold in here," Carol said. "You want to warm me up?"

"Sure," Roger said with a grin. "But it's a bit early for bed. You want to sit on the couch? That chair is right under the air conditioning vent."

"I don't mean that, silly," Carol said, punching Roger lightly in the chest for emphasis. She rose and walked with Roger to the couch, taking a stack of printouts with her. "The chill runs down my spine when I read this. I think the case I'm on is going to produce some major reverberations, maybe nationwide reverbs. Take a look."

Roger got a stern look on his face. "I thought Pat had taught you better about taking your work home with you." Patricia Gibson, Roger's mother and the best woman he knew besides her daughter (although Sergeant Adams and Deputy Inspector Shannon came close), had suffered serious health problems due to job-related stress fifteen years ago. "Something about you almost not having your little brothers because she was obsessed with putting away a killer." 

"Okay, hear me out and then you can relieve my stress. Besides, my period's over. Maybe I can relieve some of yours as well." She grinned. 

Roger took the papers and looked at them for a minute or two. "So, the dead man appeared on this TV show to 'out' one of Our Finer Local Citizens?"

"Yes, and I'm suspecting the citizen killed him for revenge. We're checking his records to see if he owns a shotgun similar to the one used in the killing. And tomorrow, I'm booking a flight to Orlando to go to the production offices of the studio."

Roger really frowned then, but not at the prospect of losing his wife for several days. He had spotted an E-mail address for a contact person at the production company: titusoates@counterspyproductions.net. He explained.

"Titus Oates was a South Pole explorer with Robert Scott's expedition, you probably know that. But he was named after a man who created England's version of the Salem witch hunts with a story about the Popish Plot in 1678, a supposed attempt to kill King Charles the Second and install his brother James on the throne. James, of course, being a Catholic." Carol, who also was Catholic, pursed her lips. 

Roger continued: "And Counterspy is a magazine devoted to blowing the covers of spies around the world. At least one time, an enemy government was tipped off by their article, ran down a spy and killed him."

"Shit!" Carol said with more fervor than mere italics can provide. Then her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth. She stared over the back of the couch at Triacialeigh, in the living room doorway, her eyes wide open too. After a long silence, Triacialeigh spoke.

"Mommy, are you going to put yourself in timeout?"

Carol blushed beet red. Roger roared with laughter. "Fair is fair, isn't it?"

Carol said: "All right, I'll pull up a chair and sit in a corner for … let's call it 30 minutes. What did you need, little one?"

"Could I get a drink of water and have Daddy read and sing to me? I'm not too old for that, am I?" 

Roger replied: "No, sweetie, you won't be too old for that as long as you live in this house. Let's go and set the oven timer so Mommy doesn't do it herself. We'll come back here on the way back and make sure she's in her corner."

"Okay." Triacialeigh skipped by Carol, who was up and getting the desk chair from the computer and pushing it to a corner, as Triacialeigh headed for the refrigerator and the bottled water.

Carol heard the buzz as the timer was activated while she prepared the chair. She sat there staring at the wall as her husband and daughter passed back by. From the child's bedroom, she heard "Waltzing Matilda" and another couple of songs, and a few minutes of talk in murmured voices. She held her position as Roger came back into the room.

It wasn't easy. Roger went up to Carol and started kissing the back of her neck. She squirmed, partly out of embarrassment and partly because Roger sure knew how to turn a girl on, damn it. Now he was sliding his hands around to her breasts. Blast! Roger knew how to massage the skin until the nipples made a bas-relief, even through blouse and bra. Carol bit her lip and stared straight ahead.

"Roger, I promised. Have you ever seen me break a promise to any of my family?" 

"No, and that included to love, honor and cherish me. Thank heaven" - he slipped a hand inside her blouse and massaged her breast more thoroughly – "the Padre didn't make you promise to obey. Or me. I'm not in timeout. I can do whatever I feel is right."

It was a good thing Carol was sitting down, because she was weak in the knees. Roger nibbled at her ear. Carol's breathing came harder. She concentrated on the texture of the paint on the wall. Watching paint dry isn't as boring as watching already dried paint, especially if it isn't starting to flake off. Good house. Well-built house. Well-maintained house. She could feel a flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Roger got on his knees behind the chair. He ran his free hand down Carol's back, pushing her forward in the chair. He rubbed up and down the length of her spine, caressing her buttocks. His hand on her breasts moved inside her blouse and he deftly unclasped her bra with one hand. He couldn't always do it, but he managed this time. That dash-blanked so-and-so of a such-and-such, he was the best lover in the world except possibly her dad with her mom. Carol knew she shouldn't have let Roger sit next to her dad and her mom when the couples double-dated during their courtship. He sure as hell had observed a lot. Ooooooohhhhh …

Roger shifted his attack. He began caressing Carol's left wrist with one hand. That wasn't original with him; he had seen Sarek and Amanda – Mr. Spock's parents – do that on the Star Trek Original Series episode "Journey to Babel" a hundred times in reruns. After seeing that episode, Roger had concluded Spock was totally faking his emotional coldness for some kind of uber-Vulcan machismo because he was half human. That gesture was so damn intimate, it would melt a heart of stone. And, by the way, it also allowed him to deftly remove Carol's wristwatch. 

After what seemed like several minutes, Carol spoke again. "You know, if you hadn't pointed that out, I wouldn't have said that word … mmmmph!" (This as Roger kissed her neck and licked her earlobe, causing her to shift forward in her chair.) "You should be in timeout yourself."

"Poor, poor Carol," Roger said as he rested his hand on Carol's knee. Since it was summer, Carol had changed into a pair of fairly loose shorts, socks and running shoes when she came home from work. Her knee was bare. "You got caught. I didn't. Triacialeigh didn't punish me."

"If she sees you touching me, Buster, you are spending the rest of the night in timeout … ahhhhhh!" Roger was stroking Carol's leg behind the knee. The skin is softest there on a woman, which is why Roger liked it. The skin is highly sensitive there too. Carol clasped her knees together. She decided instantly it was a mistake. Roger's hand stroked behind both knees simultaneously. His other hand ran up and down her spine. Since she was leaning forward, it left a gap in her waistband.

"You too, honey," Roger said. "If your moaning wakes her up and tips her off, you're as guilty as I am." 

Carol bit her lip and stared at the wall, trying to find a cobweb she or Roger hadn't brushed. She thought of moving her legs apart so Roger couldn't touch them both simultaneously. Then she realized it would be a bad move because Roger could touch the inside of her thigh. Then his other hand, on its way up her back, curled around and touched the tip of her breast. She hadn't realized how hard her nipple had become …

"What part of No don't you understand, the N or the O?" This through clenched teeth.

Roger stopped touching and withdrew his hands instantly.

Roger hadn't pulled more than a forearm-length away before Carol, still staring at the wall, reached up and grabbed his hands.

"You … you …" Carol was trying to find a suitable noun without resorting to nouns of four or 12 letters – the latter would have been singularly appropriate. "If you were anybody else –"

"You'd be beating my head against the hood of your car, right?"

Carol blushed scarlet. That was exactly what she had done to a man making a series of unwanted passes at her, back when Triacialeigh was an infant and she had celebrated a friend's promotion at a local watering hole. She hadn't told Roger about the incident.

"How did you know about that?" Carol held Roger's hands in an iron grip.

"I knew about it the very next day. The man himself came in wanting to file police-harassment charges. He came right up to me at the front desk. He identified himself, I identified myself, and he nearly lost his dinner into his pants. He thought for sure he was going down for attempted rape."

"What did you do to him?" 

"Thanked him for getting the message, looked him straight in the eye while doing so. He looked me straight back in the eye and asked me to treat you right for the rest of your life."

"I'll be blessed," Carol said. She couldn't see Roger's grin.

"Later on, I found out he was a highly successful insurance salesman. I bought our car insurance from him, in fact. The last time I renewed it, he showed me a picture of his new wife and his young son. About as respectful as an insurance salesman can get." 

"Happy endings do exist," Carol said, letting go of Roger's hands.

"Still want me to stay away?"

Carol again thought of the 12-letter noun. "If you dare break my concentration before timeout ends, you take the timeout and I caress you until you go bananas."

"You know you want to stay focused. You won't let me." His hands hovered.

"Dad never did this to Mom."

"He told me he wished he had thought of it." Ever closer.

"Dad would do anything to please Mom. And vice versa." 

"My mother would never do anything to put herself into timeout."

If only you knew, Carol thought. She had heard a few stories going around, and at one point ... no, let's NOT think about the makeout session in their car, interrupted by Carol herself. No, Roger didn't know the half of it.

Carol bent forward, seeing an imaginary speck on the wall. And this time she raised no objections to Roger touching her back, rolling up her shirt, feeling her ribs and her tummy and breasts. In fact, she leaned rather hard against the edge of the chair. Fortunately, her shorts didn't discolor. But they got a little stretched out of shape when Roger ran his fingers up the inside of one leg, caressing the inside of the thigh with first his palm and then the back of his hand. 

He leaned against Carol to do it, and she felt something thick, juicy and hard inside his pants. After he had switched thighs a few times, all the while keeping up his ministrations with his other hand and his kisses, Carol's breathing came hard. When she moved her wrist, she realized it was naked. All of a sudden Carol felt especially open and vulnerable. And she thought of something else.

"Are you sure you didn't set that timer for extra time?"

"I didn't set it."

"You what?"

"Oh, it's set all right. I lifted Triacialeigh up and she set it. We had a little talk about how bad Mommy was and I told her she could set your punishment." Before Carol could call him what she thought of him, he slid his hand upwards and found something thick, juicy and yielding just under one thin layer of cloth. 

He used that layer to his advantage, massaging the general area with it and embedding it between a set of lips with which he was well-acquainted, not incidentally bringing a third little nubbin into relief. 

"OHHHHHH," escaped Carol's mouth. She hadn't always thought foreplay necessary, but she knew something about how her dad had won her mom's heart (and how Sue Adams had won Linda Shannon's heart), and after a while with Roger, she had changed her mind rather zealously. 


S&P: Interrogation Ch. 01



Especially in recent years, when the want for Roger was still there but the opportunities were somewhat diminished by the job and the responsibilities with home and family ... OHHHH, he was rolling her nubbin inside her lips. OHHHH, he was tracing up and down her lips, feeling that increasingly wet spot at the other end. OHHHH, he was giving a butterfly kiss to her neck …

Finally, mercifully, the timer rang. Carol stood up and faced Roger. He had a "What did I do?" look on her face. Carol jabbed a finger into his ribs, so hard it made him flinch.

"Just keep backing up, Mister. I'm not going to forget how you tried to make me break my promise to our daughter."

Roger went on back. He thought he had the room "read," but all of a sudden he almost literally went ass over teakettle, tumbling over the arm of the couch and landing on the cushions, his feet flying high in the air. Carol launched herself between his legs and landed on his torso, grinding her pelvis against his and kissing him like she was trying to rip his tongue from his mouth. 

Roger wasn't complaining. He put both hands on Carol's bottom and got his mouth free from hers long enough to kiss at her shirt collar. He could sure feel two hard nubbins now. He let his fingers slip further down her bottom to her thighs, touching the backs of them. 

Carol responded by kissing Roger's neck and grinding against something else that was even harder. She went for the buttons of his shirt with fervor. He let go one hand from her thigh and ran it up the back of her shirt, deftly unclasping her bra. The other hand moved back up and spread across her bottom, with the thumb down near the juncture of her thighs. 

Carol spread her legs and scissored them around his, trapping an ordinary man quite neatly. Roger was no ordinary man – he could have taken a couple of mean drunks simultaneously – but he couldn't unseat his wife and didn't want to. All he could do was go with the flow. She was flowing.

Carol eventually got all of Roger's shirt buttons open and began working on his belt. Roger retaliated by getting Carol's shirt off and working his hands under her bra until he could kiss her breasts. He didn't go for the nipples right away, preferring to lick around the underside. This Carol liked. 

She pushed her bottom up, way up, letting his thumb find its way underneath the leg hole of her shorts and across the crotch of her panties, which were very wet. Then she pushed down, way down, trapping his thumb where it was and letting his fingers trail across her buttocks.

Roger countered by bringing his free hand up and starting at Carol's neck, trailing down her breastbone, while he sucked at her nipples. Carol gripped his arm, guiding it to the proper place, which was at the waistband of her shorts. He unbuttoned and unzipped them. She countered by unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, and reaching into the fly of his shorts. 

She started scooting forward as her shorts came loose. Her panties were still on and still tight around her hips, so she used the pressure against her female parts to her advantage. With a little twisting, she got his thumb underneath her panties and feeling at her perineum. With some rocking, she got his thumb to rub her anal opening and the base of her vaginal opening.

Roger's hand went in the waistband of Carol's panties and trailed down her pubic bone. She rocked back, and he reached the edge of the bone – the edge of the waterfall, as he liked to call it, because he could reach way underneath the way swirling water in a waterfall cuts at the rock above it. He split two fingers and continued to slide, catching her clit in between the fingers and rubbing it from both sides. Carol used her other hand and pulled his rather bloated organ out, reaching under herself to gather lubrication and then rubbing her hand up and down it. Then she moved forward, letting the tip rub at her crotch.

Carol suddenly released both her hands, gripped both of Roger's, and leaned way forward. With her still using the scissors hold on his legs, he didn't have much control of his movements. She let go of one hand just long enough to reach into her crotch and move her panties well to one side, then gripped his hands again. She moved her cleft up his shaft, up, up, up … then sank it in her all the way to the hilt.

Then she held there. She moved her head back and enjoyed the feeling. Carol and Roger both knew well that Roger's rod felt bigger to Carol in certain positions, although he never was too sure of which positions were best for her. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have loved to thrust up into her, but that scissors position was keeping him from it. He wasn't into female domination, but he found he liked this. He could and did flex his buttocks, moving his shaft back and forth a tiny bit, and he liked that a lot. 

Carol leaned all the way down until she was face to face with Roger, then arched her head back so he could lick her neck and her breasts. She started sliding up and down on his shaft, not too much yet. Whenever she went down, she really went down, pressing her tailbone against his pubic bone and getting every bit of his hard-on into her vagina. Nor were her external genitals neglected. She rotated her hips so his shaft could rub her clit and kept going in a clockwise motion, as she searched for her G-spot.

Roger didn't want to distract himself, but he didn't want to blast off early either. He moaned in complaint. So Carol kissed him. Then she presented him with her neck, which he loved to kiss and suck. The emotional pleasure he got, momentarily diverted him from his physical pleasure. It increased hers, to be sure.

Roger could just barely move his cock inside her pussy. For some reason, he really liked it. It was like the head there was a fingertip, feeling the tissues and nerve endings very gently. The base of the head was like a knuckle joint, rubbing at the upper wall of her vagina. There was a slightly rough patch there, either the tip of her urethra or her G-spot. He didn't know which, but it scraped underneath the base of his head and sent pleasure coursing throughout. 

Roger could come like an ordinary man, with the sensations all in the head. But some men have more feelings under really good circumstances. They have nerve endings in their lower abdominal and upper thigh muscles just like a woman does. The first sign Roger had that this was going to be different was a hollow at the very base of his stomach, just above the hips, moving inward toward the bladder (empty, fortunately) and his penis. His buttock muscles were starting to clench back and forth without orders now.

Carol gripped Roger's hands and placed them on her breasts. She had her head thrown back and her lips slightly parted. Roger knew this was intense concentration. Carol could be pretty vocal during sex when it was ordinary. When she was silent, it usually was a signal for him to stop and try again later, or it was a signal that she was going to have a monster orgasm. 

From the tremors of her vaginal muscles, which seemed to have a life of their own, he suspected it was the latter. Dear God, he hoped he didn't come too soon. An early orgasm in a man usually means all the sensation is in the shaft, not throughout the body, and it can produce the equivalent of a weak dribble. And it is not a quarter as pleasurable, sometimes not a tenth as pleasurable, as a real orgasm. Roger suspected that a lot of bad marriages stemmed from neither husband nor wife really wanting it, but just having sex in order to have it.

"Ohhhhhhh…." Carol said in a very soft voice. Roger knew she was close, but not quite there yet. More than once, she had approached the edge of orgasm but hadn't come for some reason. Roger knew that if she did go off powerfully, so would he.

Roger cheated.

He got one hand free long enough to put it under Carol as she rose up on him. She lubricated the hand very well. Then, when she rose up again, he put his thumb on her clit, two fingers atop his prick, and the last two … you know where.

Carol shrieked. Or she realized it and cut it off halfway, so it sounded like a strangled cry. Then her vagina imploded, collapsing on itself, crushing Roger's fingers and his organ, pulling on it in spasms. That did it for him. He reached the point of no return, hung on even longer than necessary, and let go. 

If the purpose of the male orgasm is to send sperm as far into the female as possible, and the purpose of the female orgasm is to pull the sperm to the Fallopian tube to the egg to fertilize it, Carol and Roger played their parts to perfection. Time stopped for Roger; he felt he'd never stop shooting. Carol pulled it all in, deep into her vagina, as much as it would hold and then some. Her uterine muscles helped pull the thick fluid in deeper. She shuddered all over from head to toe, increased the scissors hold on Roger, and then collapsed onto him.

The two heard a door open. Their daughter was coming out into the hallway.

Roger slid off the couch and onto the floor. Carol kicked one couch cushion off and knelt on the springs. Triacialeigh walked to the edge of the living room. Carol asked.

"Is anything wrong, honey?"

"No, Mommy. I just had to go. Are you and Daddy all right? I thought I heard you make a funny sound."

Carol wasn't quite ready to give her daughter sex education, but she did want to reassure the girl. Carol was leaning forward, so only her head, neck and one arm extended over the top of the couch.

"Yes, I did, but I wasn't hurting or anything. I just made a funny little sound that your daddy liked. He's gone to get some water. Here, do you want a hug and a good-night kiss?"

"Thank you, Mommy."

Careful not to expose herself or her daughter's daddy – who was on the floor, quiet as a mouse – to the little girl, Carol put an arm around her little girl and kissed her on the cheek. They exchanged heartfelt I love you's. Triacialeigh started to leave and stopped.

"Mommy, Heidi told me today she's going to have a little brother or sister. Do you think I'll have a little brother or sister?"

"I don't know, honey. God works in mysterious ways. Nana and Grandpa didn't think they'd have Bobby and Danny, but they did. If He wants you to be our only one, we'll love you.  If we have another one, we'll love him or her, but we'll love you just as much. Pinkie promise." The mother and daughter exchanged little fingers.

Triacialeigh went back to bed without incident. Carol turned to Roger, who looked pleasantly relaxed. She gave him a look and spoke in a no-nonsense tone.

"If you're happy for our daughter, I'm glad. If you have a self-satisfied smirk that you got me off, you've got a lot more to do before I'm letting you go."

Both, actually. That night was the last night the two would see each other for ten days. Carol and Sue were booked on a flight to Orlando the next morning.

(To Be Continued)



S&P: Interrogation Ch. 02



Edited by LadyCibelle

AUTHOR’S NOTE:  A couple of E-posters found some plot holes in Part 01.  One of them said that a man shot from the front at close range with a shotgun would not live long enough to turn around and run away from the crime scene, taking a second load in the back.  Good point.  However, some people do survive getting shot at close range.  As long as everyone understands that the victim opened the door voluntarily and admitted his killer to the house, I’m on the right track.

Another poster told me that Roger Wilson unhooked Carol’s bra twice while teasing her.  Sorry about that, gentle reader.  I had a little TOO much fun in writing it.

Pete Moskow, who appears here late in his career (this story is set 15 or 20 years in the future) will be shown in a more positive light in other stories.  He will have a girlfriend, at least for a while.

Thanks to the posters who (for a little while, at least) voted Part 1 of this story #1 on the Erotic Couplings list!  I hold Patricia in such high regard that, whenever I write a story involving some of her characters, I give it all I have so it can hold to her terrific standards.  Writing stories for other people’s characters can be fiendishly difficult, and I feel a sense of real pride when people – Patricia in particular – feel I’ve understood the characters and given them depth.  

And finally, thank you so much to LadyCibelle, who was not only this story’s editor but also its #1 fan.

*

Based on his play "Good Cop, Bad Cop"

For the series of stories created by Patricia51 and Linda_s

Category: Toys and Masturbation, BDSM, Romance

A gay officer and her straight partner compare lovemaking techniques.

* * * * *

Detective Sergeants Sue Adams and Carol Wilson, of the Jackson County Sheriff's Office in Georgia, landed at Orlando International Airport, Florida, after a flight delayed by a hurricane threat. It was a bad season, and when they rented a car they were advised that outgoing flights might be canceled if the storm kept on course to hit the Atlantic coast. They decided to rent a hotel room for the night. Each detective called her spouse to notify him and her, respectively.

After making the calls, the two of them decided to go on to Walt Disney World, specifically Disney/MGM Studios. Studio 2 housed the "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" attraction. Studio 1 had been leased out to Counterspy Productions, for a TV show called "Bring 'Em On Out." Two days ago, a guest on that show had been murdered in his home in a Jackson County bedroom community. The victim's show hadn't aired yet, and the detectives were hoping to get a full look at the footage – including any that wasn't used in the final product.

Sergeant Adams sighed wistfully as she walked past Studio 2 and saw the lineup of people who wanted to sit in the Hot Seat and answer questions. Sergeant Wilson noticed the sigh and playfully punched Adams in the arm. "I'm younger than you," Sergeant Wilson said, "and I bet I could beat you in Fastest Finger." (The exhibit still used the network TV show's version of the qualifier to get people in the Hot Seat, so anybody in the audience could make it if he or she was right and faster than the other 550 people trying it out.)

Sergeant Adams punched Sergeant Wilson's arm in return. The two detectives, though they seldom worked together, were friends of many years' standing and sometimes called each other "Cousin." Sergeant Adams' life partner, before meeting her, had been a lover to both of Sergeant Wilson's parents – simultaneously at one point. Since Sergeant Wilson didn't have any aunts and uncles by blood nearby, Deputy Inspector Shannon had been "Aunt Linda" for several years as Captain Mike Gibson's girlfriend, and kept the honorary title thereafter. Sergeant Adams only about five years older than Sergeant Wilson, so she had become an honorary cousin. 

The detectives reflected on this camaraderie as they came to the door of Studio One. It was closed and locked. 

"Is a taping going on right now?" Sergeant Wilson asked her partner, who had her cell phone out and was looking up the number for Counterspy Productions.

"No," said Sergeant Adams, frowning. "They don't tape until after Millionaire does its last show, and that's at 7:00 P.M. They ought to have some people going over the groundwork, though." She dialed the production-office number and got nothing but an answering-machine message.

"Should we leave and try their offices in town?" Sergeant Wilson wondered. 

"I guess we could, but what we need would be here anyway," Sergeant Adams replied. "I wonder if ... wait a minute. Is that guy who I think he is?"

No, the man leaving Studio 2 with a group of Millionaire lovers wasn't Regis Philbin. But he was a VIP to the two officers. Pete Moskow was a free-lance TV director who had worked for the production offices of several university medical schools, and as a videographer and crime-scene investigator for Jackson County; he had helped both detectives on difficult and personal cases. Neither of them had seen him in about three years, since he last fell into the bottle.

The detectives didn't have to come to Pete; he came to them – albeit with a distracted look on his face. He didn't notice Sergeant Wilson until she ran up to him and clasped his hand.

"Carol? Sue? I don't believe it! Are you and the families vacationing here?" Pete uttered these words a little too carefully. Oh, God, both women said silently.

Sergeant Adams pulled out her badge. "Actually, Pete, we're here on official business. We're trying to get into that studio and nobody seems to be home."

"They're on lunch break," Pete replied. "I got myself a sandwich and went to play Fastest Finger. My coordination sucks. Been going there every chance I get for three months and I never make the Hot Seat."

Sergeant Wilson smiled and tried to change the subject. "So, you're affiliated with the show that's taping there? I'm glad you got a job!"

The minute she said it, Sergeant Wilson's face fell. Pete looked at her like he had been handed a death sentence.

"Affiliated with it?" he asked. "Hell, I'm the director. I'd rather be sucking men's dicks in a back alley for one tenth of the money I'm making here." Then his face went paper white as he looked at the gay Sergeant. 

Both Officers stared at Pete for a long moment. Then Sergeant Adams dug into her purse, found a twenty and thrust it at Sergeant Wilson.

"Go buy him a real sandwich," Sergeant Adams ordered, "and as much coffee as we can pour into him." Wilson took the order without question; in fact, she dashed off looking for a concession stand.

Sergeant Adams found a bench, ordered Pete to sit, sat down beside him and looked him in the eye.

"Pete, you would never say something like that when sober. Tell me what got you into this mess. How much money do you owe people? What is it about this job that makes you a shell of a man?" 

Pete's hand gripped his own thigh until his knuckles turned white. Sergeant Adams removed the hand gently and put it on the bench. The knuckles stayed white as Pete punished himself. 

"I maxed out eleven credit cards, average balance five thousand two hundred fifty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents." Leave it to Pete to be precise in calculating his own self-destruction. "I've had twenty-three sober days in the last five hundred sixty-two. That's how long this show has been in production. It added fifty-three stations carrying it this past off-season."

"I know," Sergeant Adams said. "We're here because a station back home picked it up. We're here about the season premiere. The primary guest was –"

"Murdered," Pete said flatly. He used an ugly curse word. "It was on CNN this morning. If you tried to call the production offices, don't bother. They're busy talking to their lawyers, hoping to destroy the master tape."

Sergeant Adams' eyes widened. "How can they do that? It's vital evidence in a murder investigation!"

Pete's voice became threatening, and Sergeant Adams wondered about having to take down her old friend. "They don't want any responsibility," he said in too-articulate tones. "They want the publicity for outing a closet faggot" - Sergeant Adams winced at the statement – "but they don't want the lawsuits. If there's no evidence this show led to the murder, a civil action against the show is meaningless. We've been told, no cooperation of any kind with the cops. If you hadn't just come along ..."

Pete buried his head in his hands. 

Sergeant Wilson came hurrying back, shaking her head about waiting in a concession line. She went to Pete and handed him the sandwich.

"Eat this slowly. I don't think you've had real food in days. There's some New England clam chowder that ought to be easy on your stomach, too. I know you're not a coffee drinker, but I got a mocha that's real chocolaty. Drink it slowly and let it warm you up." It was a hot day, but Pete was trembling and Sergeant Adams was pretty sure, from dealing with her share of drunks, that Pete had a bad case of delirium tremens.

Pete tasted the food hesitantly, and then attacked it like a starving man. He got the coffee down okay, though he winced at the taste. Sergeant Wilson found a five-dollar bill and bought Pete some water. The two detectives conferred and returned to Pete.

Sergeant Wilson spoke matter-of-factly. "If you go into that studio as drunk as I think you are, they'll fire you on the spot. I know you want that. But if Sergeant Adams and I ask you friend-to-friend to sober up and cooperate, will you?" 

"You just called Sue 'Sergeant Adams'?" Pete said, managing a half smile. "You don't get any more formal than that. If I cooperate with you, I'm just as fired."

Sergeant Wilson said firmly, "I can't make any promises, but I'll try to get you another job. A real one. My dad just made Deputy Inspector, did you know that? He still has buddies in really high places and you still have his reference. Along with Inspector Shannon's and Captain Gibson's and a few that might surprise you."

The two Sergeants asked permission to confer among themselves.

"I think we need a change in plan," Sergeant Adams said. "If they don't know us, let's try to sit in on the taping and see how the show itself works, and then maybe we can figure out how to ask people about that particular episode."

The two detectives took their decision to Pete. He thought it over. 

"There's a Q and A segment late in each show. Sue, why don't you write down a question and ask it from the floor, something about how the guest was surveyed and caught. Carol, you come in the control room with me and informally look it over. I'm guessing you don't have a search warrant, so ..."

"I won't try to sneak anything out," Sergeant Wilson promised. 

"Damn, an honest cop," Pete replied. Nobody knew if it was supposed to be a joke, including Pete himself. He slowly stood up and took several deep breaths.

"At this hour, everybody will be taking in Millionaire, but "Bring 'Em On Out" always wants a full house too. Sue, I think you can ask and get at least one ticket. If that doesn't work, knock on the side door and" – he winced – "flirt with the security guard. I know he can get one for you, for a price." 

Sergeant Adams shook her head, not in disagreement with the suggestion but at the thought of what kind of person the security guard must be. She hurried off.

"Carol," Pete said, "you'll have to pose as my girlfriend to get into the control room. I hope you don't mind putting on a show. You know how things used to be ... welcome to that world again."

* * * * *

It was well after ten that night when the two detectives arrived at their hotel. They went into a gift shop and bought long T-shirts for sleepwear. They had had to leave their briefcases in the rental car when they came to Disney World, so they couldn't take notes on the taping; Sue went to the front desk and inquired about whether the rooms had computers installed (yes), while Carol arranged to have room service pick up their clothes and take them to an overnight dry cleaner.

It took more than two hours to transcribe what the two detectives remembered from the studio visit. Pete had transcribed a map of the studio and showed where the cameras were located – including several backstage to catch the in-studio guests and their surprise visitors. He had pointed out the editing equipment and the library of pretaped segments, most of them done with hidden 8mm camcorders and then enhanced to broadcast quality through digital technology. Pete previewed the segments and had a technical director key them into the main computer. 

Meanwhile, Sue got a ticket for an aisle seat. An audience coordinator came through the ticket line and asked members if they wanted to ask questions of the show's guests or the ones who surprised them. Sue volunteered, and the coordinator handed her a slip of paper with a pre-written question and a number, indicating her spot in the question segment. The aisle seat, Sue discovered, was near a microphone with a camera trained on it. An associate producer came to Sue's seat before the cameras rolled, coaching her to use an indignant tone as she asked the guest why he had kept his secretary in a nice apartment and showered her with gifts. He explained that as soon as the guest denied doing any such thing, the secretary would come out from behind a curtain and confront the guest. The guest's wife appeared after the next commercial break to confront the secretary.

"Sounds like the wife and the secretary are in this together," Carol said. "The studio map showed one big Green Room for them to snack and wait their turns." 

"You suppose the husband really wasn't a cheating spouse?" Sue replied. "I kept a close eye on him when the camera wasn't showing his face, and he acted honestly bewildered by the questions leading up to the interview segment."

"You've never been a cheating spouse and neither have I," Carol mused. "Maybe Mom and Dad know some people who've been through this."

Sue looked disgusted. "You, of all people, should have figured out that your mom and Linda were having an affair themselves. Didn't your dad give any indication that he was suspicious of your mom and Linda becoming lovers?"

"No, he didn't. Mom had another female lover about four years into the marriage – Linda stepped in when the other woman filed rape charges against Mom. I think Mom told Dad all about her attraction to women right away, long before they married, and Dad looked her in the eye and said it didn't matter in the slightest because she and he were meant to be."

"I wonder what makes people cheat," Sue said. 

Carol mused. "I think there just has to be something wrong with the relationship before either party starts even looking. Money problems, family problems, disagreements over the roles in the relationship ... if you don't work it out before you commit, it becomes very dangerous. Then when a couple fights, one or the other or both just wants to get away from the strife for a while. If someone else is nice, or acts nice ..."

"No blood, no foul?" Sue asked. "If your relationship is healthy, you can't be tempted?"

"Tempted, sure. I've met some really classy guys, and I know Roger has met some truly lovely women. But as far as actually wanting to open your mind, soul and body to someone else ..."

"I've done that," Sue said. She frowned in worry and then spoke again. "Do you remember the investigator who came to town just before Linda and I exchanged rings? A month or so before the twins were born?"

"I never really met her," Carol replied. "I know who you're thinking of, but not much about her except the flame-red hair and acting so mature for her age."

"Linda and I took her at the same time. Or maybe she took us, I've never figured which. Linda had done a threesome with your mom and dad, but I never had."

"And the two of you, you and Linda, became one person?"

"Basically, yes. How did you know?"

"Not hard to guess. When Mikie [younger brother Michael Gibson, Jr., by then in ninth grade] was born, I counted back and remembered Linda coming in for a visit nine months earlier and staying the night. I knew Mom, Dad and Linda had had a three-way that night – Mom and Dad never admitted it, but I laundered the sheets the next day and I could tell their scents on the bed linen, along with another perfume Linda wore then. I'm almost certain they conceived Mikie that night. I don't usually believe in omens, but everything pointed that way. The feeling got stronger when Roger and I had a true lovemaking session where we felt like we had melded into one person – nine months before Tricialeigh was born.

"I was on my own when the twins came along, so I never met this woman, but Mom told me how she could ... sort of cast a spell on people. The woman would have taken Dad in a heartbeat if Dad had noticed her, and I think Mom would have joined in. She knew that any two of them would become one person making love to the other one. That's the only time I've ever seen Mom wistful for another woman since the day you moved in with Linda." 

Sue inhaled deeply, let it out with a whoosh. "I've never understood how your mom could be bisexual. What's your take on it?"

Carol mused. "Well, in theory, Linda is bisexual. She took Dad as a lover and enjoyed him very much, and heaven knows she doesn't regret having conceived her children, no matter what their father was like. I suppose she just needed the right person, Mom needed the right person, and after some trial and error they found that one. So they went from bisexual to being, respectively, gay and straight." 

The answer wasn't entirely satisfactory to Sue, but she accepted it. "And so it gets passed on. You're straight all the way; I'm gay all the way. Do you know that, except for Linda's fingers and my tampons, I still have a hymen?"

"You're lucky," Carol said wistfully. "I lost mine to a boyfriend who wasn't right for me. When Roger told me he was a virgin himself, I cried. I figured there must have been some good women he had known before me, and I hoped he had had better luck his first time than I did with mine." She managed a smile. "He did."

"Linda stays very quiet about her marriage, but I get the feeling that she really wanted it to work. We had a long discussion soon after we moved in together, and she told me that she would fuck me with a dildo if I wanted it, but she really wanted to be a woman with me. I told her I would use the dildo on her sometimes, but I didn't want it myself. I wanted her to be a real woman, not posing as a man for me. We've worked it out so we both feel like real women in bed. In fact, like we are one woman with one heart and soul. The ideal couple, I hope."

Carol sat on the bed with her feet up and put her head on her knees and her arms around her shins. "Do you know how long it took Roger to become my ideal lover?"

"Tricialeigh is five, and you were married three and a half years before she was born, so ..."

Carol grinned. "Last night. That's when he became my ideal lover. Two years of dating, nine of marriage, going on six of parenting; things just got better and better, and last night we tried something unexpected and I was in heaven. I just wanted to hug him all night long. Tricialeigh needed a hug, so I hugged her, then Roger and I went to bed and did a lot more."

Sue smiled. "I thought you always went to sleep in each other's arms. Linda and I do."

"We do. But most nights he holds and enfolds me. Not the other way around. If anything was missing, it was that tiny little bit of equality."

Sue had finished her report, sent it and checked to make sure it had been received. She leaned back in her chair and looked at the ceiling before she spoke. 

"With Linda, it's different. We have equivalency instead. Sometimes she concentrates on me, sometimes I concentrate on her, and sometimes we each go our own paths. I don't know if we've ever had a simultaneous orgasm. Have you?"




S&P: Interrogation Ch. 02



"Sometimes. When we made Tricialeigh, I wrenched his seed right out of him and sent it straight to my egg. We don't make a habit of it, though."

Sue ran a hand through her hair and then stared at the hand, disgusted. "My God! I sweated like a pig! And that studio was freezing! Why didn't I notice before?"

Carol checked her own hair and made a horrible funny face. "I didn't notice either. We must have been too wrapped up in our casework."

Sue hopped up, hurried into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. "Linda worries over me much as my mom does. If I catch cold, she'll rush me to the doctor. Maybe if I take a good hot shower and lower the temperature gradually, I can keep from getting a chill. Do you want one, too?"

"I'll wait until you finish. Roger's working a late shift, so I'll call Mom and Dad and make sure Tricialeigh's okay." 

"Figured you wouldn't want to see me naked," Sue said with a smile. "Don't worry, the shower is enclosed and it will fog up completely. Do you want to wash your hair before we switch out?"

"Probably a good idea. You sure there's enough shampoo and conditioner for us?"

"There should be." Sue put toiletries on the lavatory sink, then closed the bathroom door to get undressed. "Come in when you've checked in with your parents."

The telephone call took about fifteen minutes. Yes, Tricialeigh was fine, said the proud Nana; she had played during the day and gone right to bed in Mommy's old room that night. They discussed the hurricane and whether it would hit Orlando directly, and how much rain it might dump on Georgia. 

Sotto voce even though it wasn't necessary, Carol discussed Pete Moskow's drinking problem and asked if he had burned all his bridges in Jackson County. Nana called Grandpa to the phone and discussed opportunities for Pete elsewhere. Probably not there in Jackson County, at least not yet; but CNN was looking for a director in Charleston, South Carolina, and Pete would qualify. 

Carol hung up, stripped down to her panties, and entered the bathroom. She was happy to see two large, fluffy robes hanging outside the shower. Sue was still inside, with the cold water on. Carol averted her eyes, went to the sink and turned on the water. She examined the shampoo bottle, decided it would work with conditioner, bent her head under the stream and went to work scrubbing her scalp.

Sue, who had turned her back when Carol entered the bathroom, asked Carol for some body lotion in Sue's purse. Carol left the bathroom, spotted the purse, got out the body lotion bottle and noticed it was almost empty. She checked her own purse and found a sample bottle of her own. She carried both purses into the bathroom in case either of them needed other toiletries, passed the near-empty bottle to Sue, and went back to work on her hair.

After a moment, Sue called: "Carol, could I borrow yours?"

Carol was agreeable, but she stood up too fast. Shampoo streamed into her eyes and water sprayed onto the floor. As Carol groped for her purse, her foot slipped, and she crashed to the floor on her tailbone. Both purses spilled around her.

Sue got out of the shower as quickly as she dared, and hurried to Carol. "My God, are you all right?"

"Just my bottom." Carol stood up slowly and carefully. Her pelvis hurt pretty badly.

"Let me look at it," Sue said. She knelt, took Carol's panties at the waistband, and peeled them down and off. She reached above the pelvis and massaged the base of Carol's spine. "Does that hurt?"

"Yes, but not too bad. It's worst in the bones leading to the hips."

Sue petted the area, searching for signs of a fracture. There didn't seem to be any.

All of a sudden, Carol giggled. "Look at us. Here we are, stark naked in front of each other, you're looking at me through the eyes of a woman who loves sex with a woman, and you're acting like my doctor!"

Sue shook her head. "Aren't you supposed to be the serious sister? Only you would giggle at a time like this." Then she smiled. "Look at our purses! Do you want to go lie down while I clean up?"

"No," Carol said. "Let me get on my knees and pick up stuff."

A minute later, from Sue: "A pocket rocket? You? And ... my God, is that a sausage? Don't tell me you ..."

"Don't say another word until you tell me about this." And Carol waved a bottle of flavored lubricating oil in front of Sue's eyes. Sue blushed scarlet, and there was a lot of her to blush. To tell the truth, Carol was just as embarrassed.

Sue found a robe and slipped it on. "Go take your shower, then come out and tell me how you feel."

* * * * *

When Carol came out, dressed in the other robe and wearing a towel around her head, Sue was already in bed under the covers. Carol dangled her panties from one finger and looked at them in disgust - wet, somewhat dirty, shampoo in the crotch. She definitely couldn't wear them to bed.

"Guess you'll have to put them in the laundry bag," Sue said. "If this storm keeps up, we may be here for a couple days at least."

"My only pair, too," Carol said sadly. 

Sue sat up. "We'll go shopping in the morning if we can. I got your purse packed pretty well. It's on the night table beside you."

Carol opened the hotel room door, put the panties in the laundry bag, returned to her bed and sat on the covers. Sue averted her eyes. Carol took off the robe, put on the long T-shirt, hung the robe up and got under the comforter and a blanket. Each woman shut off her bedside lamp.

The howling wind and driving rain made sleep impossible. 

"Sue?"

"Yes, Carol?"

"I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"That's funny ... I thought I had embarrassed you ever so much more. I was just so surprised you used ... those things. Is Roger really that big?"

Carol grinned. "No way. Very few men are, I have no doubt. It's what they do with what they have that's important."

"What does Roger do with what he has?"

"He fills me. He completes me. And you?"

"Linda doesn't fill me, but she makes me become part of her and the other way around. I guess I just wondered how a guy could do so much for a woman. When I was in school, I heard lots of locker talk about guys' things, and it didn't impress me one bit. I'll bet half the girls in my high school graduating class are divorced by now, maybe more than that. Once the big salami lost its appeal, the man did too."

Carol sat up and switched on her light. She began gathering the covers in her arms, gradually building a human-sized form. Sue sat up, switched on her own light, and looked over at Carol.

Carol said softly, "If Roger had the monster thing the girls talked about, I would never have opened up to him. He'd either have been too proud of it or too embarrassed by it. I concentrated on the man. Whether I could cradle him in my arms, or he could cradle me in his, whether we were in sync when we kissed and moved about, whether our minds melded, whether we felt the same touches, the same nerve endings, the same depth of character, a whole bunch of things."

Sue's eyebrows went up. "I could describe Linda in almost exactly those words."

Long pause. Sue continued.

"Do you and he ever have ... oral sex?"

"Not every time, but yes. I just treat his cock like a treasure. I dance my tongue around it, take it in and out again, sometimes vacuum-suck on it, nurse his balls, and sometimes I just put it in front of my nose and admire it."

"How is he on you?"

"He really wants to worship my pussy. I think he tries to avoid the clit because he thinks he'll lick it raw. He'll delve his tongue into my depths, lick the inner and outer lips, wipe his face on my thighs and tummy, and press his tongue hard against the upper wall looking for the G-spot."

Sue sighed. "I have always heard that nobody knows how to make love to a woman like a woman. I know that's true for Linda and me. We do all those things, lick on the clit, suck on the lips ... sometimes she'll spank me with the hairbrush and massage my buns until they get so warm I can't stand it." Sue flashed a wicked grin. "You don't ever spank Tricialeigh, do you?"

Carol shook her head no. "Mom and Dad never spanked me. Lori, my first mom, I don't remember her spanking me either. They genuinely didn't want to hurt me. If I had been a hell-raiser, maybe things would have been different."

Sue replied: "I got quite a few whippings from my dad. He didn't like to do it either, but he was afraid my mom was spoiling me. He finally gave it up when I reached puberty. That was when he started drinking, because he felt more and more out of touch as I got closer to my mom. Daddy's little girl became a woman, and not the woman he expected. The fact that he and Mom were such different people, with pretty much just me in common, made it worse." 

Sue sighed. "He grew to hate me, but it was always with sadness and remorse for not being a better dad. I've never hated him. But that was one reason I never dated guys ... I didn't want to marry a guy, have a child, and break up later. I wouldn't be a good mom. I don't know how you do it."

Carol thought for a long time.

"A child is a trial from the moment you know you're carrying one. Tricialeigh is a wonderful girl, but she's going to give me a lot of heartache. If I wasn't 100 percent certain I could be a mom, I would have had my tubes tied or had Roger get a vasectomy, or both. What about you ... has your biological clock been ticking?"

Sue shook her head. "Not mine. Linda's. She's going through menopause. She feels she's too old to adopt, or to have me bear a child through insemination. And she doesn't want anything but the best for a child she'd raise. When your mom worked on that fatal child-abuse case, Linda would come home and cry on my shoulder, just seeing what Pat was going through. We made a pact ... we wouldn't take any steps toward parenting until Linda was reconciled with her own children. You know how long that took. By then ..." Sue took a long time to collect herself ... "I realized I couldn't do it either. I can love other people's kids, but I can't raise my own."

Carol thought back to the man who had beaten and starved his child, and was doing life without parole in a hellhole prison. Yes, she could understand. It had nearly broken her own mom to see a child die senselessly. Mom had had Dad as support, and had committed herself to bearing and raising "little" brother Mikie. Linda and Sue ... they couldn't be mother and father at once.

"Sue, this is changing the subject, but will you show me, at least in words, how Linda makes you whole?" 

Sue gave it long consideration.

"If you will show me what you feel with Roger, I'll show you what I feel with Linda."

"We do it to ourselves, not to each other," Carol replied. "It wouldn't feel right."

"Glad you said that."

Long pause while each woman thought about masturbation. Neither had done it with anyone else in the room (spouses didn't count), particularly not around her best friend. Each decided that there was no way to break the friendship by making passes at one another, because there was too much mutual respect.

Sue asked: "Why do you have those things? Can they really substitute for Roger?"

Carol replied: "I create an alternate reality. I put the dildo into me and hold it, not moving it, just letting the sensations elsewhere travel down and translate into something to spasm against. I turn the vibrator on as low as I can and use it for his touch. I clutch the bedcovers to me to simulate his soft skin."

Sue nodded in agreement, then added her own comment. "I guess you saw the famous hairbrush."

The famous hairbrush, which had fallen from Sue's purse during the mix-up in the bathroom, was Linda's family heirloom. Sue had seen it when she worked with Linda, and put it to good use when she and Linda finally moved in together. A dozen swats on each buttock had sent Linda into the throes of passion. Eventually, Linda had used it on Sue. Then Sue knew why.

Sue got out of bed, rummaged in her purse, and found the hairbrush and the massage oil. She sat on the bed, placed the cover over her lap, and slipped off her panties. "Sometimes Linda and I like to touch each other's breasts through cloth, usually when we're making out on the couch. So I'll keep this shirt on for now."

Carol got up, retrieved the items from her purse, and frowned. Sue spoke again.

"Carol, do you need massage oil? You can rub it between your hands to heat it."

"I'm very turned on, but I think I will. Are you going to stay under the covers?"

"Yes; otherwise the air conditioning will dry me out. Trust me; if I go over the top, you'll know when I do."

"Me too," Carol replied. She brought the dildo over to Sue, who coated it in massage oil. Carol took an experimental lick. "Pretty good. Not the same as a cock with him behind it, but I won't complain."

"Thanks. Linda massages me with the oil and then licks it off. It mixes well with pussy juice, too."

"I'm glad," Carol said, and returned to the bed. She lay down, pulled the covers to waist level, and asked: "Do you want to go first?"

Sue smiled broadly. "Yes, thank you."

Sue gathered the bedclothes and lined the edge of the bed with them, blocking most of Carol's view. She knelt on the bed, picked up the silver-backed hairbrush and admired it for a moment. Then she pulled her T-shirt high enough for the hem to rest on her breasts, and knelt down with her face burrowing into her pillow, using one arm as support and the other to hold the brush at the right angle.

Then she started in.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Carol squeezed her eyes shut as her friend swung the brush, thinking of the pain Sue must be inflicting on herself. Eventually she opened one eye and looked in Sue's direction. Only Sue's face, contorted in a determined expression, and part of her ass could be seen. The brush just kept coming down at various angles, alternating buttocks. Carol squeezed her eyes shut again, and kept them shut until the brush rattled as it was replaced on the nightstand.

"How can you take that much?" Carol whispered. "I'd knock Roger unconscious and bolt for the door if he did that to me."

"Usually not nearly this much," Sue replied through clenched teeth. She raised herself on her elbows and began pouring massage oil into her hands. "If it's done right, the pain isn't as bad as you'd think. Linda can stand a lot more ... guess it's mild compared to labor pains, or she needs me to punish her and then show deep concern for her, or both." 

Sue propped herself with one shoulder and began massaging her buttocks with both hands. She refilled her hands and laid an extra dollop on her lower back, where it trickled up, and at the tops of her thighs, where it trickled down. Then she lay flat on her stomach and pulled the blankets over her.

"It takes a while to settle in. While I'm waiting, why don't you show me what's so great about a male organ?"

Carol sat up and put the artificial penis in her lap, pointing upward. She said: "Usually I worship it while kneeling in front of him or lying over him, but this way is okay. I usually just take it in my hands and look it over. Not like I don't know everything about it by now, but you never stop admiring true beauty."

With the tip of one finger, Carol traced the substitute penis just beneath the head. She stopped below the urethral opening and gently ran her finger up and down the underside of the shaft. She repeated the process with each finger on that hand, then used combinations of two fingers, three and finally four, closing her hand around it when she finished. She repeated the process with her other hand.

"I can't tell you," Carol said without turning, "how long it took for me to figure out his pleasure spots. He admitted he didn't know them himself. So I touched myself a lot and found out my own pleasure spots, and then figured where they would be on him. There were a lot of similarities."

"Wow," Sue said. The massage oil was starting to settle in, and she told Carol as much. "When the pain goes away, the blood flows into my cheeks and – well, you can guess where else. Linda tries to get the blood flowing even more, rubbing, caressing, tickling." She put her hands under the sheet and did it to herself.

Carol held the penis in both hands and brought it up to her face. She flicked at it with her tongue. She swallowed some of the massage oil and smiled. "No wonder Linda likes to lick this off you. Even by itself, it tastes pretty good."

"Going undercover as a clerk in a sex-toy shop had some fringe benefits," Sue giggled. "Linda came in one day posing as a customer and bought this. When the operation ended, we contacted the supplier and set up an account with them. Ohhhhh ..." The warm massage oil was doing its work. The moan came following a trickle onto one of Sue's nipples.

With her thumbs, Carol massaged the head of the artificial penis. "I love it when he opens and closes my vaginal lips, so I expose the little hole for his urethra and cover it again in rhythm. Then I hold it apart and tease the hole." The artificial penis had no hole, but Carol demonstrated anyway. Then she bobbed her head and took the head in her mouth. Her jaw worked vigorously. 

"There are a lot of ways to suck on a man?" Sue asked. "The prostitutes I've busted act like there were just one or two."

Carol pulled the dildo out of her mouth. "That must come from an empty soul. They've never enjoyed sex because it's all work to them. And they don't want the customers to really care for them, so they give them minimum treatment." She resumed sucking, taking in more this time.

The warmth in Sue's loins had reached optimum levels. She pulled off the T-shirt, lay back down and cupped her breasts, working the oil over the nipples and gently pulling on them. "Linda loves to lick my breasts."

Carol removed the dildo from her mouth, scooted further underneath the covers and brushed the dildo over her breasts. "Roger loves it too. He tries to avoid the nipples – Tricialeigh bit them a lot when she was nursing and he's afraid they're still too sensitive. Sometimes I coax him into rubbing his cock against the nipples instead." She used the phallus in that way. "But his tongue is mighty talented. I love it when he draws a cross from top to bottom and side to side, and then starts at the outsides and swirls in to the center."

Sue massaged the oil into her nipple. "Linda likes to take as much into her mouth as she can. Then she uses the tip of the tongue above or below and near the base. She'll alternate: top of tongue for rough stimulation, under the tongue for smooth."

Carol sucked on the dildo until much of the lubricant was gone. Wrapping a sheet around herself, she stood and crossed to Sue's nightstand. "This lube would be good for a sore throat; it feels warm and tingly. May I please have some more?"

Sue turned on her back, pulled the covers up to her shoulders, and held out her hands. "If you'll give me a double handful, you can have as much as you like."

Carol acceded and then gave the dildo an extra-special coating. She returned to bed, licked the dildo once more, and then ran it all the way down the front of her body. When it reached the juncture of her thighs, she rubbed it along her vulva.

Sue was applying the oil to any part of her body that hadn't already been coated. She cupped her vulva with one hand and left it there. The other hand circled from her stomach to her thighs and back again. A concerned thought entered her mind. 

"Is that going to hurt when you put it in? You'll already have a nasty bruise on your ass. Don't use it if it's going to strain anything."

What Sue got in response was a long moan. Carol had slowly, slowly, slowly slid the long shaft into her sheath. She took in a deep breath and held it, getting used to the feel inside her.




S&P: Interrogation Ch. 02



"A cock plunging in and out of me is great, especially if Roger moves it around. But this feels just as good. Don't worry. I loosened up some after giving birth, and it's not pressing against my tailbone, so it will be fine."

Carol reached up and got the vibrator. Sue turned her eyes to look, while the hand over her own pussy got closer and closer to pressing hard against the flesh and tissue. It was a form of teasing, and it worked.

Carol's form of teasing was to run the vibrator along her shoulder, part way up her neck, and then stop. She held it against her check, and then shifted it to the other shoulder. "That's how Roger likes to kiss me. How does Linda like to kiss you?"

Sue's breath was coming harder now. Her hand was pushed pretty hard against her opening, and her other hand was trailing between her buttocks. "Deep soul kisses to the mouth, deeper still to my pussy. Little butterfly kisses to my tingling ass and clit. Everywhere else, she wants to swallow me whole."

It was getting more difficult for Carol to talk as well. "Roger is extraordinarily gentle, unless I insist he do otherwise." She let the vibrator buzz along her Eustachian tube, connecting the jaw to the ear, and trailed it up to the earlobe. "When I tell him to cut loose, he does. Often he knows it nonverbally, by my actions. He likes to do two or three things at once. Kiss my earlobe; massage my breasts; finger my clit." Leaving the vibrator near the earlobe, she used her hands to do the other two things.

"Linda rests her head on my breasts, and I do the same for her. I'll kiss down her stomach, go past her pussy to her thighs, and then go back up." Sue used her fingers and the massage oil as a pretty fair lip substitute. "I like it like that."

"Does Linda dive into you so deep with her tongue you think she'll smother? I'd love it when Roger does that. I let him up every minute or so to inhale deeply."

"Linda ... doesn't do that ... as often as she ... used to." Sue was having trouble breathing herself. "The bout with pneumonia really rattled her. But when ... she presses ... against me ... like this ..." Sue squeezed her legs around a head-sized lump of bedspread and pile-drove it into the hand that still cupped her pussy. "And ... uses the rough tongue ... on ... the tip ... of the clit ... and ... the soft part ... farther up ... the stem ... oh, my God."

Sue wasn't ready to orgasm yet; she was being descriptive and getting unusually turned on by same. The rough edge of her finger rubbed the tip of her clitoris; the softer middle part of the finger rubbed the stem. Her other fingers traced the lips of her vulva, waiting for the moment to plunge inside.

Carol hugged the covers in an iron grip, somewhat simulating hugging Roger's body. She got an idea and brought two of her own fingers around to kiss them. With some work, they felt like Roger's lips. She plunged her tongue between the fingers. A shudder went through her frame and her vaginal walls clamped down on the dildo, one long grip and then a flutter. She picked the vibrator off her neck and put it on her lower stomach. 

Sue brought her lubricant-coated fingers into her vagina at last. She probed upward for her G-spot. She had time for one more question. "Would you tell me ... how ... direct clit ... stimulation ... works for you?"

Carol had been very, very happy with the vibrator on her stomach, where it rested over the solar plexus and stimulated the nerves. Her vagina was all aflutter now, and the muscles gripping the dildo made the rubber shaft feel alive. But she was curious herself. Roger couldn't very well fuck her with his tongue and his cock at the same time. Just maybe ...

Carol turned the vibrator up a notch, to what she estimated a tonguing would feel like, and placed it on her clit.

"Sue! It works! It works!"

Sue made a four-finger thrusting rod and let her vagina have it, with her thumb taking over clitoral stimulation. Her other hand wrung her buttocks to close the vagina and open it. She froze.

Carol voluntarily gripped the dildo with her vaginal muscles as hard as she could, then let go. The involuntary action of the vaginal muscles instantly took over.

"OH, MY GOD!" I'm not going to tell you which woman said it. Wouldn't matter.

Sue rose from the bed except for her shoulders and her feet. Carol clung to the simulated man and shook so hard she nearly tumbled to the floor. 

The two women lost track of time. Sue held her breath longer than she thought any person could hold it. Carol expelled most of the air from her lungs and didn't inhale again until her body screamed for oxygen. Then she took it in great gulps. A whoosh from Sue accompanied her body sinking back to the bed.

Nobody, including them, knows how long they stayed in their positions.

Carol moved first, removing the dildo very slowly from its nest. Sue held her hands in place, withdrawing one finger at a time but keeping the palms as they were.

A thought came to Carol's brain.

"Roger and Linda would never believe this."

Sue said: "I think you're right. I swear she was right here with me. God, I want to get her off so much! She won't know what hit her when I get back."

Carol: "Roger felt like this last night." She had a thought. "Last night ... it was just like the night we made Tricialeigh. I wanted him so much that night because I wanted a baby so much! Last night ... My God, I wanted him for him! I still do!"

Long pause. Finally Sue spoke.

"We'll never get to sleep. My sheets are soaked. Yours too, I'm sure."

Carol agreed. "We'll have to shower again, put on those robes and draw for the couch and the easy chair."

Sue didn't move yet. "Carol, don't take this wrong, but for making me think of Linda this way ... I could kiss you."

"I could, too." Carol nodded. "It would be so wrong to kiss you like a lover, but I want you as a friend."

"Dear God, thank you and thank Carol. Carol, I didn't see your pussy, but I saw your heart. Please let it be this warm."

"You got it."

The two women eventually showered, dressed in robes, and went into the sitting room to sleep. They found out later that a tree had snapped clean in two at a particular moment, thanks to the near-hurricane-force winds. They knew what moment it was because a neighbor had heard it - a neighbor listening through the walls.

That news came later. Before she dozed off, however, Carol had a thought, about how similar the previous night had been to the night on which she had conceived ...

(To Be Continued)



S&P: Interrogation Ch. 03



by Captain Midnight ©2005

Based on his play "Good Cop, Bad Cop"

For the series of stories created by Patricia51 and Linda_s

The beginning of this chapter will sound VERY off-topic, but I hope it gives some character insight. Also please note this was started well before Hurricane Katrina and its devastation, and is not meant to downplay any aspects of that tragedy.

Special thanks to LadyCibelle, jtmalone70 and especially patricia51 for all their inspiration.

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

Sergeant Carol Wilson's hotel-room phone rang at 5:30 in the morning. That wasn't so unusual, but the voice on the other end was. Her daughter Tricialeigh, five years old going on six, had awakened before the dawn.

"Hi, pumpkin! What are you doing up this early?" Carol asked.

"Daddy's scared," Tricialeigh replied.

Carol sat up in bed. Her husband was a cop; so were most of her family. Roger Wilson certainly had reason to be frightened for Carol and for a lot of people ... but this sounded different.

"What is it, cupcake? Is he scared for me? I've been away before."

"No ... it's strange, Mommy. He took me to see Aunt Stephanie last night, and he's been scared ever since."

Stephanie Gibson, Carol's younger sister, was an emergency-room doctor at County General. Tricialeigh had visited the E.R. fairly often. She had never been into the treatment rooms (except for one broken arm in a playground fall), but she knew several doctors and nurses and loved to chat with them. 

This time sounded like it was different. "What happened, sweetheart?"

* * * * *

The previous night, before he went on duty, Roger and Tricialeigh Wilson had gone to Open House at Tricialeigh's kindergarten. A lot of parents were there, including Brenda Lawson, Heidi's mom. A day earlier, Brenda had told Heidi, a classmate of Tricialeigh's, that she was expecting another baby. Since both Roger and Carol were friends of the Lawsons and knew they wanted a large family, Roger said hello and congratulations. Brenda blushed; she had found out only yesterday and was just five weeks along.

As the adults walked through the decorated hallways, Roger cast an eye on Brenda. It wasn't a covetous eye, though. Brenda was still flushed and seemed to be in pain.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Brenda clutched her midsection, turned and headed for the bathroom. She didn't make it. Roger went white as a dark blotch appeared on the seat of Brenda's pants – blood and a lot of it. Then Brenda crumpled to the floor.

A dozen parents saw it happen, and everyone whipped out his or her cell phone to call 9-1-1. Roger went them two better. He called Stephanie's cell phone and asked her to get an obstetrician to the ER, stat! Roger then got hold of an ambulance service and gave them directions to the school. 

Brenda's husband was out of town, so Roger volunteered to accompany her to the hospital. Roger gave his car keys to another parent and asked that Tricialeigh and Heidi be brought to County General ASAP. He saw Heidi's stricken face as he climbed into the ambulance with her mom.

It was a miscarriage, all right. Stephanie and the obstetrician rotated consolations among Brenda, Heidi and Tricialeigh. Nobody could explain what had happened to themselves, much less to two small children. Stephanie had Brenda admitted for observation. 

Finally, Roger left with Tricialeigh and Heidi, heading for hiss' place. Nana – Captain Patricia Gibson of Internal Affairs – and Grandpa – Deputy Inspector Michael Gibson Senior, Division Chief for in-progress crimes, were delighted to take in the girls for the night. Roger asked Pat not to tell Carol anything about what had just happened until he himself could talk to her. Pat crossed herself and said a silent prayer for Brenda, and agreed.

Roger was night watch commander under a rotation shift. When he got to the commander's desk, he found an internal memo from Detective Corporal Darrell Evans, intended for the Chief of Detectives. Roger had trained Evans in Detective Division and knew him well. He called Evans at home.

"Lieutenant?" Evans said. "I didn't mean for you to get that memo; it was to be routed to Sergeant Wilson. Do you know when she'll be back?"

"If this wind is any indication, it'll be several days at least. Why don't you tell me and I'll send her an e-mail tomorrow."

"It's something I can't really describe over the phone. Can you get the Deputy Watch Commander to take over and meet me at the crime scene? I want to get your take on it."

Roger frowned. This wasn't his case, it was Carol's. On the other hand, the evidence sounded perishable and someone needed to handle it. 

"Okay," Roger replied, "let me access Sergeant Wilson's data – I have clearance on it – and I'll call you back. Do you still have the area taped off?" 

The search warrant for the home was to expire at midnight, an hour away, so Roger decided to back Evans' hunch. Half of the hour remained when Lieutenant Wilson joined Detective Evans at a wealthy man's suburban home, the scene of a brutal shotgun murder three days earlier. 

Evans gave Wilson a quick rundown on how the victim had probably known his killer, because there was no evidence of forced entry, and how nothing had seemingly been taken from the house. "But we missed something the first time through."

The dead man had a nice entertainment center set up in the den where he had been killed. Evans got out two pair of gloves, gave one pair to Roger and asked him to help drag the big cabinet away from the wall.

"You got what was coming to you, faggot prick."

The missive had been scratched into the wall with a screwdriver. Evans photographed it close up. He then spoke.

"We have some handwriting samples on file. I'll need authorization to compare them to this, but I believe this 'writing' will match one particular person." Pause.

"And then there's this. A possible motive."

Stuffed into a drawer was a check stub for twenty-five thousand dollars, sans the check itself. The logo read "Counterspy Productions." Roger clenched his jaw and looked at Evans.

"You think the killer robbed him?"

"Only symbolically, but yes," Evans replied. "The check's not good yet. It won't be until September 30, after the show airs. If somebody tried to deposit it now, it would bounce. You know how they don't pay out prizes on game shows until after they air, in case a contestant is crooked? Looks like Bring 'Em On Out does pretty much the same thing, holding its wager until the race has been run."

Roger pursed his lips. "But the check itself isn't here? You think the killer took it?"

"Possible. We went through the victim's wallet, and we didn't find it in the bedroom bureau drawers. The victim could have stashed it in some secret place, I suppose. That's one reason to extend the search warrant, to see if the check's on the premises."

"But if you don't find it," Roger continued, "odds are the killer took it. That ups the stakes for the killer. The D.A.'ll call it murder during a grand theft, and a hate crime as well."

"Do you want to call a judge and get the search warrant extended, or shall I?" Evans was sure of the answer; it gave Roger a chance to take charge.

"I'll do it. I'll tell Sergeant Wilson tomorrow morning." 

When Roger had finished his phone call, he asked Evans a question. "Off the top of your head, who might fit the handwriting?"

Three words. "Van Charles Nichols." 

Many things ran through Roger's head, each with a particularly venomous curse word attached. Evans did some figuring of his own.

"Lieutenant," Evans asked, "Sergeant Wilson told me something about checking out Counterspy Productions. Have you heard back from her?"

"Nothing specific yet," Roger replied. "But I figured out some things on my own. One, that they'd throw a dog in the path of a speeding car and edit the tape to show the driver was cruel to animals. Two, that they spend a lot of money to get what they want. 

"Three is just a hypothesis, but I get the feeling they'll combine One and Two and start climbing up our asses. This guy's dead. Well, that's too bad, but it gives them a chance to rip us new ones on national TV. If we don't bust Van Charles Nichols and skin him alive, we are fucked. It'll be like the L.A. riots over again." Roger let out a furious curse which included the name of his Creator, paused in shame, and looked over at Evans in slight shock.

Evans said, softly: "There's not one case in a hundred where someone sets up someone else to take the fall."

Roger nodded curtly, and then added: "But I'll be God-damned if I'm letting some TV show try, convict and hang him. Especially if Pete Moskow's mixed up in this." Pete Moskow, a free-lance TV director, had helped the Jackson County Sheriff's Department on many cases. Now he was working for the TV show. Roger set his jaw.

"First thing in the morning, I'm calling the Feds and alerting them of a hate crime. Then we see about Van Charles Nichols' whereabouts. Then we get an arrest warrant for him, and we let Wilson and Adams take it from there." Roger paused. "I just hope they do everything exactly right."

"They always do," Evans said.

* * * * *

Van Charles Nichols was the featured guest on the season premiere of "Bring 'Em On Out," taped a week earlier for a Labor Day airdate. The production company, which had just sold the series to a TV station in Savannah, Georgia, had heavily hyped the program in Savannah and the surrounding counties; Jackson County was one of them. Lieutenant Wilson had seen a promo for that show on Sunday Night Football the night before the Monday-morning murder of a fellow guest, George Harvey.

The details were sketchy, but it appeared Nichols had been lured onto the show under false pretenses. The interview segment between Nichols and the host had started out innocently enough. Then the host had started asking Nichols questions about his sexuality. As Nichols, his face getting redder and redder under stage makeup, indignantly denied being anything but straight, strategic questions from the host and from selected audience members indicated otherwise.

Then George Harvey came out from behind the curtain – and kissed Nichols on the mouth. For the remainder of the show, Nichols was barraged with details about a one-night stand with Harvey, which Nichols clearly either barely remembered or had really suppressed. 

Roger Wilson actually knew more about the show than did his wife, the detective investigating the subsequent murder of George Harvey. The day Carol boarded a plane to Orlando and the production offices, one of her investigators called the TV station carrying Bring 'Em On Out and learned that a new set of promotional announcements had been fed to the station. The promos were designed specifically to lure viewers to check out Jackson County and see what sorts of redneck gay-bashers lived there.

* * * * *

As Roger prepared to leave, he saw people on the day shift arriving in all sorts of rain gear, dripping puddles all over the lobby floor. From a buddy who loved The Weather Channel, Roger found that Hurricane Leonard was scheduled to hit Jacksonville in a few hours and that sheets of rain and were blasting the area within several hundred miles each way, including Jackson County in Georgia and the area of Orlando, Florida, where Carol was investigating Bring 'Em On Out. Roger was enjoined to watch out for downed power lines and to prepare for lots of water in the streets. 

As Roger drove up to the Gibson residence, he recognized the sport utility vehicle favored by Carol's work partner, Sue Adams. Since Sue was in Orlando with Carol, Roger figured Deputy Inspector Linda Shannon, Sue's life partner, was visiting for a cup of coffee before heading to the office.

Before Roger could get out of his vehicle, Linda came out the front door with Tricialeigh and Heidi in tow, and hanging onto an umbrella for dear life. Linda was physically extremely strong; part of her job was teaching strength and movement exercises for unarmed combat. But she was fighting wind gusts faster than an interstate speed limit, and losing.

Roger got out in a hurry and slogged through shin-deep water to get to the group. Linda was holding the umbrella with one hand and Heidi's hand with the other, apparently to keep the little girl from blowing away, and was very precarious on her feet. Roger blocked out the wind and ran interference for Linda on the way to the big car. Linda got the girls in all right, though it took three tries to open the rear passenger door with the wind blowing against it. She asked Roger, via gestures, to get in the front passenger seat.

Roger realized what all of this was about when Linda turned on a DVD player pointed at the girls, so neither could hear the conversation. 

"I heard you took Brenda to the hospital last night," Linda said. 

"Yes, ma'am," Roger replied. "Did Pat tell you?"

Linda shook her head. "Brenda called me herself from her hospital room. She lives down the block from Joey and Erin." 

That explained a lot. Joe Shannon was Linda's son, a young attorney. Erin Shannon, Linda's daughter, was a divinity student. Erin, one of the most outgoing and sweet women in a Deep South full of them, had done a lot to help Joe and his sister Miriam deal with their mother's lesbianism. She was also famous for her block parties, welcoming new neighbors with handcrafted gift baskets. 

Linda continued: "Maybe I'm going to become a grandmother and maybe not." She paused while a wide-eyed Roger wondered whether to give his surrogate-aunt-by-marriage a huge handshake. Roger wisely decided against it, and Linda smiled a thank-you. 

"Brenda told me Erin is a little ... late this month. She hasn't told Joey because they've both been really busy, but Erin came to the volunteer get-together with something on her mind, and Brenda guessed it. Brenda was very concerned in case Erin goes through ... this."

Roger understood better than he let on. Carol's cycle was notoriously erratic; she might go for three months on end without resorting to pads, then have cramps and related health problems for two weeks in a stretch. They hadn't known Tricialeigh was coming until ten weeks into the pregnancy. Carol's mom had had many of the same problems, and still considered her 10-year-old twin sons to be miracle babies – although she was coy on the exact details. (See "To Serve and Protect: Night Watch" and "Bridget's Nights Chapter 10", both by patricia51, for more specifics.) 

Linda finished up: "But that can wait. I need to ask you, as a Detective Lieutenant – should Sue take herself off this case?"

Roger pursed his lips. Linda was too close to Sue to be objective as to how Sue would handle a gay-themed murder. Roger hoped to hell that he was.

"I vote no," he finally said. "Adams is one of the coolest heads in the department. I've seen her in the interrogation room and I've heard suspects call her some of the vilest names in four languages. When she gets angry, it's a façade to draw out information. She's not going to let this get to her. 

"At home, maybe she'll need some reassurance, but no more than any other officer. You remember when Adams had to fire on that young drug dealer eleven years ago? You didn't know me then, but I was one of Adams' rookie training partners, helping administer the psychological tests."

Linda remembered the shooting all too well; she had been critically wounded by a panicky teenage drug addict. But Roger was right; Linda hadn't known him, and she was a little surprised that he had known Sue so long. "How did she do on the evaluations?" she asked.

"Exactly the way a good cop reacts – full of sorrow, full of doubt, but ultimately convinced she had done the best thing she could. I don't know what she told you afterwards, but she kept in touch with me and asked me to keep an eye out for Patricia during the case."

Roger continued: "I'd say that if you treat her the way I treat Carol or how Mike and Pat treat each other, she'll be fine."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Linda replied. Her eyes twinkled. "If Adams makes Lieutenant anytime soon, I'll trust you to keep her up to professional standards."

Roger blushed. The little girls giggled.

* * * * *

The brunt of the storm hit northeastern Florida later that day. It wasn't as bad as some of the storied hurricanes of the past, but it was bad enough. Carol and Roger managed to find satellite phones – just about the only communication untouched by the storm – and talked to each other about the progress of the case. 

Sergeants Gibson and Adams had attended a marathon day of tapings of Bring 'Em On Out, five shows in succession. Usually the series taped one show per day, but a producer announced they were going on hiatus for a week. Carol and Sue realized the whole crew would head for Jackson County for a blockbuster special episode and needed time to assemble the program. Both hoped nobody except director Pete Moskow, a longtime friend, recognized them.

Carol had posed as Pete's girlfriend-of-the day to get into the studio control room on the previous day's taping. It was Sue's turn this time, but her skin crawled at living a lie and pretending to be a so-called cheap tramp – especially since she was and had always been gay, and especially since she owed Pete a lot for his help in getting her father off the hook when a cop was killed long ago. 

Then lightning struck.

"Liz?"

Sue hugged Liz Guerrin, Pete's longtime camera operator, as she walked toward the side door of the studio. Liz and Pete had collaborated with the Jackson County Sheriff's office for several years, before Liz and Pete both suffered relapses into drug abuse. Pete had come out of it, for a while; Liz had hidden out in rehab and then in a South Beach gay lifestyle. 

Liz confirmed that Bring 'Em On Out had hired her on special assignment for a fat fee, and that the nature of the assignment – to portray the good folk of Jackson County as a bunch of redneck gay-bashers – had stimulated her to figuratively shove their own assignment up their collective noses. Liz suggested Sue pose as her girlfriend to get into the control room. Sue and Liz walked different paths, but that wasn't uncommon in the gay community, and they got along well anyway. 

And Liz did a lot more than expected. She had gone through at least a dozen 20-minute tapes in each of the last three days, and her camera eye had caught much of what human eyes, even trained ones, missed. When Pete sent Liz back to the editing room to go through the raw footage, Sue went along. By the end of the ten-hour taping session, Sue had seen everything at least twice and had notes on a good many things even the investigators back home didn't know. 

Liz planned to head back to Miami and work for a counseling center, but Sue sternly enjoined her to keep in touch and to renew her friendship with the Jackson County Sheriff's Department. Then she kissed Liz in friendship and sent her on her way.

After the two Sergeants staggered out of the studio into a fierce wind, Sue said: "We have to get an arrest warrant for Nichols, but I don't know if we can go before a judge and keep him on the inside all the way to trial." 

"According to Roger's information, this will be considered a capital crime and an extremely high-profile one," Carol shouted back. "There's no chance of bond being set."

"True," Sue replied, "but I have serious doubts about the case and I know you do too. The question is whether the District Attorney will as well. You know how Pete is going to feel about that, especially if he's called to testify for the prosecution and he feels he's railroading a man."

"Dear God," Carol replied. Pete absolutely hated District Attorneys, especially those who sought the death penalty on weak cases. "You think we'll have to put him in jail as a material witness? That could destroy him."




S&P: Interrogation Ch. 03



"Yes, it would," Pete's voice came from behind the two Sergeants. With the wind in their faces, they hadn't heard him come up, but he had heard them. "That's why I'll come to Jackson County as soon as the storm lets up. I'd be obliged if you pretend to arrest me and give me an excuse to avoid them firing me for just cause."

"Thank you, Pete," Sue said. Her eyes were wet, and not from the rain. She took his hand. "Call us in a week and arrange for your surrender. Now, get back and finish the tasks in the studio."

"Will do," Pete said, and half-ran, half-flew back to the studio with the wind at his back. The two Sergeants looked at him.

"We've got to find the truth and we've got to find it fast," Carol said.

* * * * *

Van Charles Nichols had fled Georgia before the arrest warrant was issued. A sharp-eyed Oklahoma state trooper spotted him in a rental car near Tulsa and arrested him without incident. Carol Wilson went to pick him up, while Sue Adams went back to Jackson County as soon as it was safe to travel.

Sue pulled up to the house she shared with Linda. Linda greeted her with a warm hug and kiss, and ushered her inside. Linda and Sue both enjoyed cooking and making special treats (they ate with the Gibsons and/or the Wilsons at least once a week, alternating among the various homes), so Sue wasn't surprised that Linda had prepared a really wonderful meal. But Sue took Linda's face in her hands and addressed her like a young lover.

"I want tonight to be your night," she said.

Linda smiled tentatively. "How come? You've been through a lot. I'd like to share a bubble bath with you and give you a good massage after dinner."

Sue kissed Linda gently. "I'll take all that with gratitude. But afterwards, tonight in bed, I want to do you."

Sue laid out the ground rules. "I won't mind if you make love to me – kiss me, tongue me, finger me – but you do it because I turn you on and not out of gratitude. I want you to feel my kisses, my caresses, feel my heart going into it, and just shed any thoughts about having to do me in return."

Linda thought for a while. "Did you and Carol talk about sex?"

"Yes," Sue replied. "And I thought a lot about how you felt when you made love to Mike and to Patti and to Bridget, the vampire lady. I can't know what it was like for you, having them ... maybe I could with Bridget, because I felt like I was part of you, but I was lost in her and not in you. But I want to find out. I want to make love to you like they did."

Linda was honestly confused. "Are you jealous of them? And if so, why?"

Sue smiled warmly. "I know what I do to you and what you do to me. I can't be jealous of them. But Carol said something about Roger that I had never thought about. That he had to learn everything to make love to her, and he's still learning. I want to start learning all over again. As much as I love you, my heart is two sizes too small."

"Oh, come on!" Linda snorted. "I could say Patti's and Mike's hearts were two sizes too small when I was with them, but that's only because they hadn't found each other yet. You and I found each other. How can your heart get any bigger?"

Sue said, very softly, "By treating you with respect."

Linda just shook her head. 

"I know," Sue continued, "it's very difficult to put into words. You love [spankings with] the hairbrush because sometimes you feel you need to be put in your place. I'm not giving that up, and I don't want you to stop using it on me. But you need to be treated like a loving, sweet woman, as gently as I can treat you, as kindly as you've ever been treated and then some." She paused again.

"I can't do it all in one night, but I want to talk to you, enjoy things with you and then truly make love with you. I want you to feel like you haven't felt since before the first person said something unkind to you. I want you to concentrate on what a good person you are, how much love I feel for you, how much you've helped me. When you feel that, I feel like I can help you drift away."

Linda stared searchingly at Sue. "Are you having a midlife crisis, think you're not good enough for me?"

Sue's eyes welled up. "You're not far off. The passion has always been there, but I want to be a good person. Believe me, you will help me as much as I help you. And then we'll be truly equal."

Linda hugged Sue as hard as she could. Sue didn't flinch.

"Let me be nice to you for dinner and the massage, and then you show me what you want to do," Linda said.

* * * * *

Sue thought supper was particularly hearty, although she was biased after eating on the road for many days. When she went to wash her plates, she caressed Linda's neck and kissed her on the cheek, then impulsively put an arm around Linda's shoulders. Linda looked abashed. Sue smiled winningly.

The bath was similar. Sue took Linda into her arms in the tub and cleaned her thoroughly, head to toe, including her womanhood and neighboring areas, before rinsing Linda down and cleaning herself. There were lots of kisses and caresses, but Sue always kept one arm around Linda, pulling Linda's body to her own.

Finally, after the women had dried off, Linda was able to give Sue a massage. But Sue resisted Linda's kneeling on the floor as usual; Linda sat on the couch with Sue lying across her. Linda was quite accustomed to this during lovemaking, but massages were generally non-sexual; Linda was accustomed to relaxing Sue to sleep and then cuddling up to her for her own rest. But the massage seemed to be pretty damn arousing, judging from Sue's wetness on Linda's thighs. Linda got pretty wet herself, but the weight of Sue's body forced Linda to keep her legs closed.

Then Sue got up and searched Linda's video cabinet for a recording of a ballet Linda had danced in many years earlier. The ballet was from Linda's time as Mike Gibson's lover, when she went undercover as a ballerina and he as a graduate student. Sue studied the younger Linda rapturously, comparing her to the other ballerinas onstage and cooing approvingly when Linda executed a move particularly well, and whenever she and a partner (male or female) looked particularly compatible. 

Once, Sue asked if Mike had ever seen Linda dancing with a partner and felt a twinge of jealousy. "No," Linda laughed. "It doesn't work that way in ballet and it doesn't work that way undercover. You know about going undercover and doing whatever you have to. In ballet, you're so focused on doing what you need to do for a good show that you don't think of attraction until after you're offstage. And then ... well, Mike really was my boyfriend at the time and I just wanted him." 

As Sue rolled her eyes, Linda laughed again. "Mike was a great lover considering his limitations, and a really classy guy even then. If deep down I hadn't known I would meet you, I might have been tempted to marry him. Then look how many people would have missed out." She emphasized the point with a kiss on Sue's mouth. Sue paused the video and returned the kiss, then resolutely restarted the show. 

At long last, the cast took their bows and the camera lingered on them gradually leaving the stage as the audience got up and left the theater. Linda reminisced a little about what had happened after that performance – lying back, closing her eyes and talking softly in a reverie. Sue slowly got up and helped Linda to her feet, asking her questions about Linda as a ballerina. Linda didn't open her eyes as Sue guided her into the bedroom.

* * * * *

Sue tumbled Linda and herself into the large bed, bounced once, and took Linda's face in her hands. "Kiss anywhere you like," Sue whispered. "I'll kiss you wherever I like." 

Sue had some very definite ideas on where she wanted to kiss Linda. She wanted Linda to be as open to her as possible. That was why Sue was on her back and Linda was above her. When the time came, Sue wanted to be beneath Linda's pussy, able to look up and see everything opened for her to explore. Meanwhile, she wanted to explore other parts of Linda as well.

First off was Linda's face. Sue used well-judged tugs on Linda's knees and sides to maneuver Linda's bottom and toes against the head of the bed. The resultant upside-down kissing seemed somewhat strange to both women at first. But Sue liked it. She placed the rough of her tongue against the rough of Linda's tongue, then flicked about and caught the roof of Linda's mouth and the gums. 

Eventually Sue let her tongue come out of Linda's mouth and trail along the lips. Her hands were busy too, touching Linda almost everywhere. Sue knew Linda thought she herself had the best part of the deal, because Sue lay flat, open, inviting. Fine, let her think that. Sue liked to be open and inviting to a lover; it relaxed the lover's inhibitions. As Sue caressed her unsuspecting lover, she found spots that were either fairly new or untouched in many a season. 

Sue was bent on exploring Linda the way she had decided Roger Wilson had learned to explore Carol. She didn't really care where her hands went, as long as they touched Linda's flesh. Linda had remarkably smooth skin for someone her age, but even if she hadn't, Sue would have liked to touch it. She wanted to test each little area, to see how Linda reacted to each caress. She was open for Linda to react by giving something back.

Sue trailed her tongue down the side of Linda's neck, paused at the midpoint, and went up to Linda's ear and back to the shoulder blade. She was hoping for a reaction and got one. Linda raised her head high and squeezed her eyes shut, flexed her hips, and let one hand go to Sue's breast. Sue's nipple was already hard, but the feel of Linda's fingers made Sue sigh in return and her legs to part a little more. Encouraged, Linda cupped Sue's other breast in her hand and bent her head down to suck on the nipples. 

Sue slid her head under Linda's chest, licking at Linda's nipples along the way, and started licking up the other side of her neck. That side was a little more sensitive to the touch, and Linda reacted accordingly, sucking deeply on Sue's nipples and placing a hand flat on Sue's belly.

Sue moved her head back under Linda's chest and reached up with both hands, caressing Linda's neck, shoulders and sides down to the bust line. Linda leaned down low to suck Sue's breasts, so Linda's breasts were in Sue's face. Sue took a deep breath and flicked her tongue out to the underside of each breast. She couldn't reach the nipples, but she didn't mind. Every time Sue opened her mouth, a generous amount of Linda's flesh went inside, and Sue used everything in her mouth to work on Linda.

Linda moved so Sue's head was in her lap. Sue could almost feel the other woman's sex against her neck. She knew that should Linda lean over any more, she would have to get up on her knees and bring at least her lower abdomen against Sue's face. 

Sue hoped Linda wouldn't be in too big of a hurry. She wanted Linda's pussy against her mouth, but only when she had found every individual nerve leading to the pussy and had stimulated them all. Sue also wanted to hold onto her self-control longer than Linda did, no mean feat, so Linda would lose all inhibitions and do to Sue whatever came to mind. Then Linda would go off like a nuclear weapon and be Sue's personal wonder for a little while before Sue went over the top herself. 

Sue was pretty sure that Linda's self-control had never been broken, certainly not with Sue and probably not with anyone except Becky, Linda's first female lover from the force, whose grave Sue had visited in preparation for becoming Linda's next true love. Sue hoped to change that.

Over the course of the next several minutes, Sue contented herself with running her hands over Linda's skin, particularly Linda's sides and as far down Linda's abdomen as she could reach. Sue knew that sooner or later Linda was going to lean way over and go for Sue's "honey pot," while raising her hips and kneeling over Sue's face. But not just yet, Sue thought. She also massaged Linda's back, looking for the nerves of the solar plexus, massaging the muscles in the way she herself had been massaged. 

Linda was breathing pretty hard now. Sue trailed her fingers up to Linda's neck and massaged along the jaw line and the ears. She had heard about the vagus nerves, which when massaged slowed down the heartbeat, from a decades-ago Reader's Digest series on the parts of the body. Ever since a bout with viral pneumonia early in their relationship, Linda had had trouble breathing in certain positions, particularly on her back – another reason Sue wanted Linda kneeling over her in the 69 position. Sue reached back down Linda's back and worked the muscles, encouraging Linda to rise on her knees. Sue scooted up until her face was beneath Linda's sex.

Linda, unaware that Sue was setting her up, was glorying in Sue's position. Sue seemed almost to melt into the bed, to totally relax, to give every inch of herself over to Linda. Sue's legs weren't raised, so her sex was tucked away under her pubic bone. So Linda didn't go for Sue's womanhood right away, but contented herself with massaging Sue's tummy, hips and thighs. With her arms extended, Linda leaned over to kiss Sue on the belly. Her hands ran along Sue's thighs.

Sue wrapped her arms around Linda's lower back, encouraging Linda to lie flat on Sue for the time being. Linda's sex was quite accessible by this time, but Sue didn't want it yet. She gave each of Linda's thighs a long lick up and down. With her thumbs, Sue parted Linda's buttocks again and again. The motion caused Linda's vaginal lips to open and close, a little more each time, as her "flower" started to blossom. Sue gloried in the sight. She could tell Linda's juices were starting to drip out of the vagina and pool near the clitoris. Sue rocked Linda's hips back and forth, so the fluids puddled onto the perineum and the inside of the thigh. Sue had a plan for those fluids.

By this time, Linda had kissed all the way down Sue's tummy to her pubis. Sue didn't lift her hips, but she did rotate them in anticipation. Sue had situated herself so that if Linda scooted forward, her sex would be away from Sue's face. Sue didn't want that. She put her hands on the backs of Linda's thighs and pulled very slightly, holding Linda in place. Slightly disappointed, Linda kissed the pubic area and the hollows of the thighs. 

A single droplet of Linda's womanly fluids came out and hit Sue in the chin. She massaged her chin against Linda's inner thigh, a bare inch away from the vulva. Then she moved her chin across to Linda's other thigh, nuzzling it against Linda's clit, lips and perineum. Linda was surprised at the unexpected sensation.

Sue slowly began massaging Linda's buttocks, gradually spreading them apart. She slid her thumbs down and massaged the innermost thighs. As she had hoped, Linda's internal lips opened wide. Sue enjoyed the view for a long moment and then gradually coiled her spine upward, raising her knees and her hips, so Linda could have a similar view of Sue's pussy.

Linda couldn't resist leaning over and taking a lick, and Sue let her. She wanted to see how the act turned Linda on, and she was rewarded by a flush of deeper color in Linda. Sue sighed, seemingly in pleasure at the sensation of Linda's tongue; in reality in pleasure over how she could still turn Linda on. She thought she had never seen anything so beautiful as Linda's sex, eager and yet unaware of what Sue had in store for it.

Sue stiffened her tongue as much as she could. Then she slowly arched her head upwards. The tongue, as stiff as a man's organ, went through Linda's lips and a little way into her vagina. Sue pulled her tongue back and thrust it forward again, going in slightly deeper this time as Linda opened up in welcome. Linda pulled up her head in surprise, then lowered it back down and added a finger rubbing over Sue's lips to her tonguing of Sue's clit.

Sue pistoned her tongue in and out of Linda for a long time, using the underside to tickle Linda's clit. When she finally pulled out, she swiped her tongue the entire length of Linda's pussy, gathering up all the juice she could get, and went up Linda's perineum to her rosebud. Her thumbs followed, scooping up more juice along the way, and massaged the anal opening to push more and more lubrication inside.

Linda just buried herself in Sue's pussy. She was resting on her knees and elbows, her hands and wrists free, and she tried to do unto Sue what Sue was doing to her. She couldn't quite reach Sue's anus, and but she thoroughly explored Sue's pussy with fingers and tongue. Sue smiled, and her facial muscles pushed Linda's buttocks further apart. Sue would let Linda take her bottom in due course, when Linda felt the sensations inside her. But Sue would control the whole thing.

Sue's thumbs went back down to Linda's pussy and slowly pushed inside. Her middle fingers stretched Linda's asshole wide and began entering. With any luck, she hoped to massage the thin membrane in between. It worked. While doing so, Sue briefly dropped her face to Linda's clit and sucked it. Linda moaned.

Now Sue's tongue moved to Linda's ass and began to join the fingers. When the tongue was ensconced and wriggling back and forth, Sue slid two fingers on each hand into Linda's pussy. She loved it when the tips touched Linda's cervix. Sue massaged it back and forth, sideways and around, while searching out Linda's G-spot and the sides of her pussy.

Linda was almost frantic with need. She asked, in the language of love, to delve into Sue's pussy and bottom. She whispered: "It's so beautiful." 

Sue said, "You are so beautiful," and moved her head back, opening up all of Linda to wonder at. She delivered gentle kisses to each part of Linda's pussy and anus. The warmth of Sue's emotions drove Linda to pull Sue open and try to devour her, almost to crawl inside her. 

Briefly, Sue wondered what it would be like to carry a child. Then she thought what it would be like to conceive a child. Because of hormonal problems, both she and Linda were on birth-control pills, and Sue thought about what sex with a man would be like. An idea popped into her head and she kept it. 

Sue was so focused on Linda and her other thoughts that her own orgasm came as a surprise. She buried her face in Linda, trying to crawl inside in her own right.

And that's what set Linda off.

Linda went rigid, her pussy taking on its own life. She spasmed and went stiff, spasmed and went stiff, barely able to breathe, tears running down her face. Sue's pussy arched up and slammed Linda's lips against her teeth, and held there. Linda could do nothing except suck on the clit. Sue passed through one orgasm and started a second, and Linda lost all control of her body. She slumped completely onto Sue, paralyzed, as her muscles convulsed and let go, convulsed and let go, until they let go for the last time.

Sue thought of what she had done to Linda, looked into Linda's pussy and came again just from the sight, feel, scent and thoughts of her lover. She clamped her legs around Linda's head, and then forced them apart so Linda wouldn't smother. She let herself come down, no easy task. She pulled her head back and hung on to Linda, sensing the older woman was barely conscious. She waited until Linda stirred.

"Linda ... Linda ..."

"What, dear? You okay?"

"Oh, dear God, Linda, I thought this was your night, but look what you did to me."

"Oh, Sue!" Linda drew out the words. 

"It's okay, Linda, it's wonderful, all our lives I've wanted you to feel that."

The two lovers lay in place for a while. Then Sue pushed herself out from under Linda, who fell onto her side. Sue slid down the bed until she was face to face with Linda. She gave Linda an upside-down kiss and gazed deeply into her eyes. 




S&P: Interrogation Ch. 03



"Linda, have you ... ever let go like that?"

Linda's eyes filled with tears. "I did, with Becky, and then I wouldn't let myself. Not even with Patti or Mike."

"Linda, I have a request." Long pause.

"Do you think we could watch Patti and Mike make love? Do you think they could watch us? I want to lose myself the way you lost yourself. Maybe we'll do it together. Maybe they will too."

Linda paused. "Do you want them ... as lovers?"

Sue smiled and shook her head no. "But you still do. I found out why from Carol. You helped them make Mikie. You helped them ... lose themselves in each other. That must have been the greatest night of your life."

Linda smiled. "No, it wasn't." Then she read something into Sue's expression. "But it could be. If you trust me this much, it could be."

The two women went to sleep soon thereafter, but only after Linda promised to talk to Pat and Mike about Sue's idea.

(End of Part 3)