1 comments/ 8769 views/ 4 favorites The Last Jar--Tim and Grace Ch. 01 By: billddrummer Chapter 1 Grace checked in to the Peppermill Hotel on Virginia St. The hotel underwent a massive expansion in 2007 which doubled its room count. The expansion occurred right when the recession hit; as a result, room occupancy fell to a 10-year low. In response, the hotel slashed its room rates from Sunday—Thursday, and the Seattle PD was able to get a large room with two king beds for $45/night, the cost of toothpaste and aspirin at the convenience store. The rooms were normally $40, but smokers' rooms had a $5/night premium. There was no way Grace was going to stay in a hotel room in a strange town without being able to smoke. "Where can I find some Diet Pepsi?" she asked the desk clerk. She drank more than a gallon of the stuff a day. "We have a small gift shop around the corner." "Does it sell the 2-liter bottles?" "No. For that you need to go to a grocery store," the clerk replied. "The nearest one is about a mile down Virginia St." "Get me a cab, then." Grace wasn't walking any farther than she needed to. "Yes ma'am." Boy, this woman was sure rude. Hope she didn't gamble and lose—she'll become a real bitch if that happens. Big, too. Not only tall, but large—big bones, big hands, big shoulders. The clerk was a small Filipino woman who had never seen a woman as large as Grace. "Please step to the entrance and a cab will be waiting for you." "Ok. Thanks. I'm going up to the room first to stow my gear. Put my guns in the safe for me. I'll get them when I go to work later." The clerk gathered the two weapons and stepped away from the front desk. Weapons had to be checked by the shift manager. He brought out paperwork for Grace to sign acknowledging that the hotel had no responsibility for the weapons, but was merely storing them for her. She signed the paper, retrieved her copy. Neither gun was loaded. She checked a Glock 40 caliber and a 38 revolver, her service weapons on her job as detective. She didn't know whether she would need them here, but she figured it would be better to have them and not need them than need them and not have them. She stepped into the cab. "Take me to the closest grocery store," she said. "Ok. That's just down the street." Less than 5 minutes later, the cabbie was outside Raley's. "Keep the meter going, this will just take a minute." "Sure thing." She strode into the store, cruising the aisles looking for her favorite drink. The store had a promotional display just inside the door, a huge pyramid of 2 liter bottles. She grabbed 6, went to the self-checkout, and returned to the cab. It was less than 10 minutes altogether. "Ready. Back to the hotel." Later, she set up her iPad on the hotel desk, and pulled up the information about the case of Brad Andrews. Brad was the export-import agent that committed suicide in Seattle, and was linked to the Reno suicide. Along with the case information, a label showed the name and telephone number for the Reno PD detective in charge of Rick Davis's case, Tim Hedley. She called his cell. "Hedley here." "Tim, this is Grace Nowak from Seattle. I just got to town, and wanted to meet with you about the Davis case." She was a no-nonsense cop. No niceties about the weather or anything else—her job was to find out what was happening in Reno and get the hell back to Seattle as soon as possible. "Hi, Grace. Welcome to Reno. Our forensics team has completed its review of the crime scene and collected all the evidence. Did you rent a car, or should I pick you up?" "Didn't rent a car. On a tight budget, like everywhere." "Yep. So are we. Our DNA samples are backed up for 2 years because there's no funding for testing." "That sucks. Well, our forensic computer guy still hasn't gotten me anything on the computer in the stiff's office, and that case happened 2 weeks ago. Since there wasn't a murder, we couldn't move it to the front of the line." "Just two weeks? We have to wait 2 months to get this computer analyzed." "Wow. You're really strapped down here, aren't you?" "Yeah. It sucks, too. I just wonder what we could do if we had the resources." Grace noticed a parallel thought process with Tim's. She had said that same thing many times in Paterson, NJ, when she entered law enforcement. There were so few resources, the officers had to use their imaginations to fill in the gaps. "Well, no matter how much money you have, there's never enough to do what you want." "You're right about that," Tim replied. "Where are you staying?" "The Peppermill. Nice place." "It's twice as big as it used to be. And it started out as a 16 room motel." "Looks like they've been successful." "Yeah, I guess." Tim had been called to the homes of some of the owners' children. Like too many privileged offspring, they thought that money suspended the rules. The kids were jerks, condescending to anyone beneath their lofty position in the Reno social pecking order. Rowdy rich kids were a waste of police resources. But their parents paid heavy taxes, so the kids were protected. And when parties happened in the hills overlooking Reno, police stayed away unless they heard gunshots. No one ever seemed to get into trouble up there. Drinking, loud music and racing souped up cars was just the way things were done. Tim continued. "Listen, let's get together for dinner, and we can discuss the case in private. What's your pleasure?" "Well, I've been looking for a place that serves decent beer. Are there any brew pubs in town?" Tim thought a moment. "The Flowing River has a good selection; all their beers are brewed on-site. Decent food, not fancy. How does that sound?" "Sounds good. What time?" "I need to get a workout in, so let's say 7 PM, Ok? I'll pick you up in my truck. Don't like to advertise when I'm not on duty." "Sure. I'll be standing outside the main entrance. Look for a big gal, 6 feet tall." "Ok. I drive a black Ford F150 pickup. See you then." Grace decided to take a shower after all. She hadn't planned on it, but this sounded like a date. No, not a date. She was just meeting the detective in charge of the case, picking his brain, reviewing the evidence file... Grace hadn't been with a man in months. She was intimidating to most men she met in the course of her daily activities because she was so tall and big. Her equally big persona and distant nature succeeded in alienating the men who weren't put off by her physical presence. But beneath the brusque exterior was a woman. A passionate, hungry woman. A woman who wanted love. She had long since resigned herself to not finding what she desired more than anything—even more than solving crimes. So she did what many people did—threw herself fully into her work. The dedication and passion she could have put into a relationship was channeled into her job, and she was on the verge of becoming the Chief of Detectives in Seattle. All she had to do was play nice with the Reno cops. She decided to nap before her shower. As she curled up in the king, she tried to imagine what Tim looked like. Knowing her luck, he's probably 5'4", married, and has a bunch of kids and two mortgages. Oh well. Shit. She dozed for nearly an hour, then roused herself at 6:30. Realizing she had almost no time to prepare, she jumped into the shower, hurriedly set her hair, and put on a bare amount of makeup—just a bit of blush, eyeliner and mascara, and pale lipstick. Nothing fancy, just the basics. At 6:55 she strolled to the main porte cochere. There, a spotless black Ford F150 4 door pickup truck was idling in the customer pickup lane. Then, a gigantic man climbed out of the cab, spotted her. "Grace? Tim Hedley, Reno PD. Good to meet you." He offered his massive hand. Grace didn't know what to do. This was the biggest male she had ever seen. He made her feel like a petite child. She shook his hand, looked up at him, saw a gigantic rippling chest, massive powerful arms, and a surprisingly delicate face. His eyes were hazel, a perfectly symmetrical, sharp-jawed visage, full sensuous lips with a dazzling smile, hair cut short, military style. "Hop in. The restaurant's just down Virginia." "Thanks. Is Virginia St. the main drag? Seems like most everything is along this street." "Well, sort of. Back before the highway was built, it was the southern route out of town if you wanted to travel to California or Lake Tahoe. It runs through the center of town, where all the main casinos are. And you can take it north to Oregon if you want to spend a lot of time on two lane roads. Here we are." They pulled up to what looked like an old house built in stages over decades. Tim hopped down, moved to the passenger's side, opened Grace's door. She wasn't expecting that. "No need to treat me like a lady. My coworkers call me the Jersey Bitch." "But you're still a lady to me. So far, anyway. As long as you don't bitch me out, that is." "Ok." She smiled. "I need a cigarette before we go in. That will keep me from bitching you out." "Suit yourself. I'll get a table that's isolated, so we can go over this stuff in private. Don't want any snoopers." She watched him walk into the restaurant, noted his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and tight, sinewy ass and legs. She hoped he was single. Reno might not be too bad after all. Chapter 2 The Flowing River Lounge was a restaurant run by two entrepreneurs who loved good food and great beer. The restaurant was four levels, including a rooftop terrace. Tim moved to the terrace and staked out a corner table away from everyone else. He brought the case file with him; it was easier than lugging around his laptop. The Reno PD hadn't upgraded the laptops in 3 years, so they were bulky and slow compared to the current ones. Tim preferred paper anyway—it was more engaging to him than staring at a computer screen. From the parking lot, she saw him make his way up the stairs. She was transfixed by the command he had over his body—he seemed to move like a panther, well-controlled but hiding raw power just beneath the surface. She felt a stirring between her thighs, a feeling she had forgotten about for a long time. Stay on point, damn it! He is here to share about the case, not anything else! That body of his is sure yummy though. Grace brought her iPad to the restaurant. It wasn't issued by the Seattle PD—she bought it for herself. The nicest thing about it was that she could log into the police department's database. After her cigarette, she joined him on the terrace. "Nice view from up here. What mountains are those?" She pointed to a ridge west of town. "That's one spur of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The peak is Sunflower Peak. Having the mountains close by is nice. We don't get a lot of snow here, and it's a short trip for hiking, camping and boating. I try to get away whenever I'm off. Didn't happen this weekend, though; it was my turn for Sunday duty. That's how I got stuck with the stiff you came to learn about." Grace sipped her beer. "Good brew. Nice clean finish, and not sweet at all. I hate sweet beers. Makes me think I'm drinking OJ." "Me too. This one's my favorite." He leaned back, surveyed Grace, relaxed in his element. She was attractive, no doubt about that. Shapely, voluptuous, awesome hips and thighs. Looked like she took care of herself. Black hair trimmed close to her head, short around her ears. She wore simple gold studs. Nails short, clear polish. Light brown eyes that could darken to black if she was mad. He took another swallow, extended the case file. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours." He smiled again, white teeth flashing. He licked his lips, provoking another reaction from her. "Ladies first. I get to see yours." She was getting a bit warm. A pale flush rose from her throat. What was happening here? All she wanted to do was get some info about this case. Why was this man affecting her this way? "No problem." He slid his chair over to her side of the table, opened the case file, accidentally brushed her forearm with his strong fingers. Her skin reacted immediately, and her pulse began to speed up. This certainly wasn't what she was expecting coming to Reno. He seemed oblivious to her reactions, until he said, "I'm not married. I hope you're not as well." "Nope. Not even a boyfriend." "Same here. No boyfriend, that is." They both laughed. But he didn't say he was single. He probably has a live-in girlfriend. Wrong again. "I date casually, but that's it. No time for a heavy relationship. Work gets in the way every time." An opening. "Same with me," she replied. "I've gotten lots of promotions, but nobody special." She sounded wistful, a bit of longing in her voice. "Don't worry. When the time is right, you'll find someone. In the meantime, let's go over these cases." "Ok. You know, you're an extremely attractive man for someone who lives in Reno." "And you're an extremely attractive woman for someone who lives in the big city and planned on telling us how to do our jobs. Let's just say your reputation preceded you, and it wasn't real flattering." "Yeah, my reputation has a problem like that." Just another part of her Jersey persona. She would never get rid of it. Tim began reviewing his case file. "Here's the way it looks to me. The quartet that was riding in the Mini Cooper came to the house armed. It was probably the wife and daughter, the wife's boyfriend and another man who hooked up with the daughter at some point. "Anyway, they come into the house, surprise our stiff. He gets intimidated, draws his 38, shoots once into the picture frame above the office door. Someone returns fire, shoots him in the shoulder. He pulls his gun up again, the same someone fires at his hand. The 38 discharges into the floor." Tim paused. "Now here's where it gets confusing. Apparently there's some sort of discussion between the shooter and our stiff. The stiff is looking up at him the whole time, bleeding from his two wounds. Then, he takes his own gun, blows his head off. That's the part that doesn't make any sense." Grace fired up her iPad, watched it while it booted up, and logged in to the Seattle PD database. "I'm guessing the shooter is a ...Greg Turner. He's an investment banker, really rich, based in Reno but travels all over the place. The wife is Jessica Davis; I've met her, she's a good lady, but had a real asshole for a husband. The bastard sent her to Seattle to pick up documents from my stiff, for Chrissake! Treated her like a slave. Threatened to beat her if she didn't follow through. And it wasn't her first time. This asshole had caused three other deaths. She had to go clean up the messes each time. Sort of like a serial killer by telephone. Each one was talking to him when they died—one stroke, one heart attack, and another shooting. This Rick Davis asshole was a real piece of work. "I'm guessing that two of the four people were Jessica and Greg. They traveled to Seattle together on Greg's jet to get the documents off." She paused. "I'm sure they were having sex. You don't go 1200 miles with a man just to have a cup of coffee." "You're right about that." He was wondering whether this Amazon would consent to sex with him. After all, she'd traveled 1200 miles. Grace continued. "The other gal was probably the daughter, Jill Davis. It was her car, right?" "Yep. This really helps." Tim was taking notes as she spoke, adding the additional data to the case file. "You're good. I wish I had other dicks on my squad that were as smart as you." "Thanks. It's been my life for awhile. Anyway, this Turner character looks on the level. Did a background check on him while he was in Seattle. Was sent to prison for fraud because of Davis's testimony, but paid restitution and got back into the investment business for himself. Made himself fabulously wealthy. Don't know how, don't much care, but there's been nothing filed against him since he got out of jail. Nothing from the SEC, nothing from the IRS, no state attorney general trying to make a name for himself, nothing at FBI, DEA, Homeland Security. The guy's a Boy Scout. A really rich Boy Scout." "Wait. Did you say that Davis put Turner in prison?" That was a detail nobody in Reno knew about. "Yep. Star witness in the fraud trial. The main reason Turner was sent up was because of Davis's testimony." "So do you think Turner forced him to kill himself?" "I don't know. This Turner guy is a real rich dude, but maybe he figures the rules don't apply. He can afford the best lawyers in the world, and gets the girl too, if the guy kills himself." Tim smacked his forehead. "That's right! I saw her picture on Davis's desk, thought she was his daughter, not his wife. Inheritance? "$4 mil in life insurance, plus all the other stuff. Probably another couple mil in houses, art, cars. And they are at large?" "We still need to track them down," Tim said. "You said they live here in Reno?" "Turner does, I know. The other guy, not sure. Maybe he's from Seattle." "We sent out a BOLO but no one's reported anything. But we did get a tip from Secret Witness. Interview is tomorrow at 3:00. Can you stay to observe?" Grace wouldn't miss it. "You betcha. I wouldn't miss it. And I won't interfere. Promise." "No, you won't." Tim leaned into her, peeked down her blouse, liked what he saw. "You are an observer, not to interfere in the investigation in any way." She flashed a glance at him. "Have you been talking to my boss? That's the exact same thing he told me!" "I refuse to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate myself." "Bastard." "Bitch." "Well, we were civil for about 45 minutes. A record?" "Close." Both of them could feel the sexual tension beginning to build. Tim liked her no-nonsense attitude and the fact that she could hold her own physically. He also admired her intelligence, and her encyclopedic grasp of this case. Grace was responding to the sheer size of this gigantic man who towered over her in stature and in strength. When he peeked into her blouse, she felt her nipples harden under her bra. When was the last time that happened? She looked at the table. The centerpiece was a Mason jar with a sprig of mountain bluebell in it. They had been at the restaurant so long, it was the last jar in the room. Their waiter brought the check. Tim picked it up. "My treat. This was much more enjoyable than a working lunch at the hot dog stand." "But, I've got..." Grace started to protest, was going to put it on her expense account. But then she remembered that the police shrink had told her she had to start accepting things people gave her. Most of the time they didn't want to fuck her over, just be nice to her. She bit her tongue, although it was a struggle. "Thanks, Tim. This was a good night for me too." "So now what? Do you want to go back to your room, or do something else?" She thought, yes, and yes. "Sure. Whatever. Just remember that I am authorized to use deadly force." She winked at him. "So am I. And I'm packing; you're not." "I've still got these." She showed him her fists. "And I've got these." He flexed, his arms ballooning to a massive size. She squeezed, found no resistance. "Wow." That didn't happen with her. No man wowed her, ever. She only wondered whether the rest of him lived up to those muscles. Reno was looking better and better. The couple left the restaurant. Like he did when they arrived, Tim opened the passenger door for Grace. "I told you I don't need that kind of treatment," she said. Tim wasn't taking that for an answer. "Ladies need that kind of treatment, even if they are hard cops. What would you like to do tonight?" Grace thought for a moment. "I dunno. This is the first time I've been to Reno. What is there to do here?" The Last Jar--Tim and Grace Ch. 01 "Depends on your interests. I'm an outdoorsy kind of guy—hunt, camp, fish and hike. I've got a boat that I take out most weeks during the summer, and an ATV that I ride up in the hills." "Well, suppose you don't do any of those things. Besides, it's dark. Hard to hike in the dark." Grace had spent her entire life in cities. She didn't understand the pull of the wilderness, and figured it was just another reason to get drunk without supervision. "You're right. Let's go back to your hotel. There's a nice lounge there, where we can just sit and relax." "Ok. And if I get bored with you, I can just go upstairs." But if she didn't get bored with him, she could invite him up. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to get back to whatever else he had going on in his life. And she was feeling a sexual tug towards him that was building in intensity the longer she spent time with him. He was so big, handsome and looked like he could break her in half without breaking a sweat. That was an attribute she admired. She hadn't found another man like that for years. There was one who she dated some years ago. Jake Reed, a professional body builder, attracted her the same way Tim did: He was incredibly strong and had a monstrous physique. They dated casually for nearly a year, punctuated by vicious arguments followed by hot, steamy sex. That pattern persisted for six months, until Jake decided he needed to get bigger so that he could win more prestigious competitions. He began taking steroids and HGH to boost his muscle mass, and the therapy worked for awhile. But the downside of the drug use showed up in the bedroom, and in his moods. He became totally disinterested in sex, preferring to work out almost fanatically. And his moods became erratic, as he swung from euphoria to rage and back. Grace found it hard to keep up with his splintering personality. Not only that, but she was having problems at work. She had been introduced to the glass ceiling of the Paterson Police Dept.—she would never become a detective, a supervisor, or even a lead tech—even though she was far superior in skills to anyone else on the force. The combination of the trouble at home and frustration at work led her to relocate from NJ to Seattle. The break was just what she needed. Since her move, her career had taken a leap forward, which would soon result in the target she had been seeking for years—Chief of Detectives. Chapter 3 Tim waited for her to return to the present as he watched her in her reverie. He asked, "How many years of memories was that?" "Shut up. Just a few. So where is this lounge, anyway? This hotel is really confusing." "They do that on purpose so that you'll stay inside and gamble more," Tim said. "If you notice, there are no clocks or windows on the casino floor. That way, you can't tell what time it is or whether it's day or night. Bill Harrah, who started Harrah's, had a saying. 'You make the ceiling really boring, and you make the carpet really ugly, so the guest only focuses on the games.' He did well with that idea, so much that every casino in the world copies it." "Fascinating. How did you learn so much about the gaming business?" "It happens if you live here long enough. Most of the locals don't gamble at all. But many of them gamble for entertainment, like other people go to movies or plays. Gambling is part of the entertainment budget." "Like you riding your ATV?" "Yep. Just like that. The lounge is through here." Tim led her through a darkened corridor to a dimly lit lounge, the Firepit. A pianist played softly in one corner. The banquettes were plush, comfortable, and covered with suede that felt like luxurious silk. Each one was positioned for privacy, as if you were sitting alone. Two fireplaces were inside the lounge, both of them crackling and glowing with a romantic hue. The lounge was quiet, devoid of slot machines or the rabble of a busy casino. Thick curtains hung along the walls, dampening the sounds from outside and in. Four statuesque waitresses in shimmering evening gowns serviced the guests. There were no single people in the lounge—just couples and a few threesomes, apparently preparing for ménages a trois later in the evening. It was voted the most romantic in Reno ten years running by a local newspaper. "Is this OK?" Tim asked. He wasn't sure Grace would like a lounge like this one. If she didn't, he'd take her to a biker bar just down the street. There was always something different to do in town. "This is...fine...not what I expected..." Grace was falling for Tim, and didn't even expect it when she landed that morning. When they entered the lounge, she found herself relaxing, getting more comfortable with the feelings her body was experiencing. During the evening her pulse had become more rapid, almost fluttering within her chest. Her breasts seemed larger, nipples swelling during their conversations. Her pussy was damp during dinner despite the work they were doing; just sitting close to him seemed to awaken her desire. She wasn't used to being seduced. She was usually the ball buster—the one who dashed the hopes of her comrades, joking about their wives, cracking the single cops about their failed attempts at dating, all the while just working, building her career, hoping that someone was watching her. Perhaps someday she'd get another promotion that would make the struggle worthwhile. But right now, she was enveloped with luxury, and consumed by Tim's attention to her. They ordered drinks from a spectacular brunette. She knew Tim. "Hi, Tim, welcome back. The usual?" "Yes, Brandie, good to see you." He winked at her. "And for the lady?" "Gimme a Jack on the rocks." "Certainly. Just take a minute." While they waited, Grace asked Tim, "How many women have you brought here?" She wanted to know whether or not she was just another notch on his belt. "Only a couple, but none in the past 3 months. Are you jealous?" He didn't much care. If that bothered her, she could just go right upstairs by herself. "No, I'm not jealous. What makes you think I'd be jealous?" "Why did you ask?" Tim replied. "If it were me, it wouldn't make any difference. Maybe you should go upstairs after this drink. You know, you can be a real ball-buster sometimes." It didn't matter to him one way or the other. He could easily find a companion tonight if she wasn't willing to be one. "Hold it a minute." Grace could feel the moment slipping away, and she didn't want that to happen. What would be the alternative? Gamble? Get drunk? Watch stupid movies on TV? Their drinks arrived. Tim lifted his glass. "A toast to the case, and your Reno visit." He smiled, looking deeply into her eyes. Once again, she felt her face flush and her pulse quicken. "Thanks, and to you as well," she managed. She'd much rather spend time with this man now than face the night alone. She licked her lips, gazed into his eyes. "I've really enjoyed our time together so far, and I don't want to fuck it up by pissing you off. Truce?" She held out her hand. "Truce." He eschewed her hand, reached around her shoulders, pulled her face close to his, and kissed her gently, then with a bit more pressure. He slipped his tongue between her lips, making her gasp. He kissed with prowess, honed by his broad experience with women. He had an active social life, despite his job. The ladies he dated worked in the casino industry, available round the clock, but not seeking permanency. His reputation as a good lover spread throughout the network of dealers, waitresses, cashiers and entertainment people who depended on tourism for their livelihoods. So when Grace felt his lips against hers, she responded with a surge of desire. Their kiss deepened, as her breathing became irregular, nipples engorged, her center becoming hotter as his tongue fenced with hers. Her pussy began to swell, and she could feel the wetness begin to sweat through her pores. "I...wait...." She was stammering. Stammering! This didn't make any sense at all! Get a hold of yourself, woman! "No. No waiting." Tim continued to kiss her, slid his hand into her blouse, and flicked her left nipple into full erection under her bra. "I like your nipples," he said. "Mmmmmmm..." She was dripping now, squirming in her seat, a victim of her desire. "Thank you for...kissing me..." "My pleasure. Any complaints?" "No...complaints..." This was getting waay out of hand. She hadn't lost control like this in years. But Tim was such a catch, she couldn't help herself. Her vagina was soaked, and she felt her clit swelling between her legs. She crossed them quickly, rubbing her thighs together tightly. Tim noticed her agitation, slid his hand up her thigh to her crotch. For a change, she wore a skirt rather than slacks. Her smooth skin quivered as his hand rose up her leg. He could feel her heat radiating from her pussy. "Your room?" He whispered to her, nibbling her earlobe, letting his breath tickle her skin. "Yyyesss....now." She was at his mercy now. An unexpected turn of events. Tim threw some money on the table, led her out of the room. For once, she didn't feel compelled to have a cigarette. Just being with him was overwhelming her desire to smoke. They shared the elevator rubbing against each other. Tim's erection was pushing against her thigh; she grabbed his enormous shoulders and thrust her hips upward, a new sensation since she broke up with Jake. They continued to kiss as they stumbled into the hotel hallway. She quickly swiped her key, opened the room. "Come here..." she panted, nearly speechless with desire. She stripped off her blouse and skirt, pulled him down to the bed, and felt his heaviness settle atop her body. He stripped as well, revealing his finely sculpted torso and striated legs. She saw him nude for the first time and a gush of cream traveled down her leg. His silhouette was a perfect triangle above, massive thighs and calves below. The center of his body rippled with strength, rock-hard abs and a round, dimpled ass. His rod was between her legs, dripping pre-cum onto the sheets. He teased her with the tip of his cock, making her shake with passion. "Fuck me, fuck me NOW!!" she yelled, pulling on his cock. He grabbed her hips, pulled her close and dug his nails into her butt. She surrendered to the force of his first thrust, throbbed in unison with him. "Ahhhhhhhhhh....Oh!" She surrendered to his strength, his passion, and his thick manhood, which was scraping the inside of her vagina. She felt an earthquake surge through her body, making her legs and arms shake. "Mmmmmm, I...I'm almost...there..." she gasped, thrusting hard against his body. She felt her pussy walls contract, clamping around his thick cock. She was close to coming, rushing headlong from a dark tunnel into bright sunlight. Her breathing became even more rapid, as her climax was just seconds away. Suddenly she felt the full effect of her orgasm, propelling her into another world. Her vagina exploded with sensation, pulsing madly around Tim's unyielding cock. "OH MY GOD!!! UHHHHHHH!!!!" She screamed. Her climax was so strong it nearly took her head off. It had been so long since she had felt a man inside her. Her whole body stiffened for a moment; then, she began to vibrate, quivering from head to toe, seeking his mouth, clawing his wide shoulders and folding her long legs around him, locking her ankles around his back. "Help me, I'm coming....again!" She was at her wits' end, completely out of control. She could feel another peak sweeping across her belly, as her stomach muscles twitched involuntarily, drawing her pelvis upward to meet his unrelenting thrusts. Her pussy continued to contract, milking Tim's cock. Now, she was speechless; all of her words were contained in the way her body responded to the man atop her. Meanwhile, Tim was holding onto this voluptuous tigress, trying not to come too soon. When he felt her pussy grab his cock, he knew that she was coming. He was surprised when her contractions continued and she said she was coming again. It seemed as if she was multi-orgasmic—and inexhaustible. He loved it. He sped up his motion, pounding into her with a fury he usually held in check. Most of the women he dated couldn't handle his strength. So he had to tone down his bedroom acrobatics, to keep from hurting his partners. He didn't have to do that with Grace. She was plenty strong enough, and large enough, to handle even the most punishing blows he could administer. At last, he could be himself in bed. So their coupling became a test of wills—strength for strength, power for power, blow for blow. Neither one of them wanted to give in. And in the process, both of them were introduced to a lovemaking intensity that was new for each of them. He could feel his climax beginning to assert itself. His cock swelled even larger as he pounded into her, and he was finally ready to take his pleasure. "It's my time...I'm going to come inside you..." he said. "Oh yes, do it lover, do it..." Grace didn't resist. But in truth, she couldn't resist. "Ahh, MMMmmmm, huh, huh, huh..." Tim panted, as he felt his spunk fill her love tunnel. His thrusts became even more intense as he pumped his jism into her pussy. A thin sheen of sweat popped out on his forehead. Grace felt the first throbbing from his cock, and came again. "UHhhhh..." She was nearly incoherent as she vibrated around his cock, pussy snapping crazily, breathing shallow and rapid. Her nipples stood up like pebbles, but were crushed by his massive, rock-hard chest. For what seemed like an eternity, they reveled in the climax dance. Grace wailed as she continued to orgasm, a completely new experience for her. Tim growled as his beautiful tourist continued to cum, over and over again. At last, they calmed down, breathing returned to normal, eyes came back into focus. Tim spoke first. "You are an amazing lover. Thank you so much!" Grace wasn't as coherent as he was. "Ssso are you...Damn!" She had felt an aftershock that made her whole body quiver. It was the first time she'd ever experienced that. She clutched the sheet to keep from falling off the bed. "Welcome to Reno," Tim said with a sparkle in his eye. "I hope you've found the entertainment...satisfactory." He was just a bit more cocky than usual. Multiple orgasms on a one night stand were rare. They happened, but much less frequently than the movies would have you believe. "Yyyes I did, you sonofabitch." Grace hated being out of control, and wasn't happy about the way he'd seemingly seduced her without any effort whatsoever. But then again, she was truly satisfied sexually for the first time in years. She could thank Tim for that, at least. But she didn't want him to know how completely she had surrendered to him. Tim seemed to read her mind. "You can cut the ball-buster crap. I could tell you were on another world when we were fucking. So don't sit there naked, wet pussy, hard nipples and swollen clit, and try to tell me that you didn't like it. Because I know you did." Shit. He was smarter than most men. But that wasn't difficult. Most men were idiots. The other thing, the thing she hated, was that she wanted more. She wanted to feel his body next to hers again, feel him enveloping her in that massive embrace, and perhaps more lovemaking. If he was able to. When he mentioned her body, each part responded to his words. When he said 'wet pussy,' her pussy surged with a fresh round of cream. When he said 'hard nipples,' their points tightened further, until they ached for his touch. And her clit swelled to the size of a walnut when he mentioned it. She snaked her hand between her legs to softly rub it, and hoped he didn't notice. He busted her. "I see you touching yourself. Wouldn't you rather have me do that?" "I....well, I guess so..." She didn't expect him to be so blunt. But she wasn't sure he knew how she liked to be touched. "What is it? Don't you think I know how to finger you?" Tim asked. "Well, I've got a special way of doing it." Grace didn't want to show him. "Show me." Tim had seen everything in the way of females touching themselves. "Fuggedaboutit." She relied on her Jersey vocabulary, hoped it would put him off. "No, I mean it. Show me how you touch yourself." He moved away from her, sat at the desk, waited. His cock flopped between his legs, half-hard. He was waiting for a show. "Ok, ok." She sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, crossed her legs with her hand in between, began to rock back and forth. She was masturbating by rubbing her thighs against her clit and localizing the sensation with her hand. Within a couple of minutes, he saw her face flush, her breathing become raspy. She was enjoying performing for Tim, and as she moved faster, she saw her audience begin to react—his cock started to swell, lengthening along his leg, until it was at its full tumescence. When it reached its full length, she began to pant, squeezing her legs together even more tightly, then quivered from head to toe, feeling her climax, made more intense by the interest of her lover. Grace stammered, "I...uh, do that on stakeouts sometimes. Keeps me from getting bored." She was still feeling the little earthquakes, making her toes curl, her legs vibrate. "Thank you," Tim said. "That was a terrific performance. Now it's my turn to touch you." He moved to the bed, slid his hand between her still-quivering thighs, felt her wetness and her swollen clit beckoning him. He became even harder, and the weight of his cock pressed against her leg, stimulating her in a way she hadn't expected. Tim ran his hand across her stomach, felt her breath draw in sharply. She opened her legs to him, grabbing his hand and placing it on her wetness. "Touch me now," she gasped. He snaked his finger inside her, curled his index finger upward to massage her G-spot. He could feel it swelling inside her, becoming engorged. He knew that if he continued to stroke her, she would have an explosive orgasm. He wanted to watch her face when she did. She was moving underneath his groping hand, wiggling her ass and grinding her hips. She was on the verge of yet another orgasm, this time on his fingers. She felt a surge of...something...coming from deep inside her vagina. Tim continued to stroke her G-spot, watching her face. It was flushed, her mouth open, her body covered in sweat. Her hips began to jerk erratically, back and forth; then, a deep contraction pushed Tim's finger out of her pussy. Next, a jet of fluid sprayed across the bed, landing on his leg. She began to thrash on the bed, kicking her legs uncontrollably. "OHHHH....MMMMMMMM...AIEEEEE!" She screamed as her climax catapulted her into another dimension. She was shaking, quivering with abandon, as her pussy continued to squeeze, and more liquid poured out onto the bed. Tim licked his fingers as he watched her have her first squirting orgasm. She was really enjoying herself, even without being touched. Her vagina throbbed for fully 5 minutes, a record for any sexual encounter she had ever had. When she calmed down, he placed his cock next to her pussy. "More?" he asked. "Now, YES!" She pushed him on his back, straddled his body, quivered as she lowered herself on his cock. "Mmmmmmm...that feels good...." She ground her hips hard onto the base of his erection, rubbing her clit with her fingers as they pleasured each other. Her tits were hanging over his face; he suckled her hard left nipple, felt her pussy grab his cock. He knew another orgasm was on its way. She was magnificent in bed. And he was doubly glad that she was a good looking cop, too. She wasn't beauty queen material, but women like that weren't his type. He liked ladies who were more approachable and didn't need to be coddled. Grace was one of those women. The Last Jar--Tim and Grace Ch. 01 She was nearing her next peak, and pushed her hips down on him even harder. He thrust upward at the same time. He wanted to time it so that they came together. He got his wish. When his rod started to jerk inside her, he felt her cunt squeeze him. "I'm coming again...humph!" he said. Tim felt his cock leap inside her, filling her with his spunk. He grunted, jerked and thrust into her pussy with the same energy he had shown the first time they made love. Meanwhile, her pussy was clasping his cock, rippling along its length, pulling more and more love juice from him. "Oh, Tim, I'm coming again..." her voice trailed off as her pussy took control. She slid up and down on his cock, gyrating wildly above him. What a lover he was! She couldn't resist how he turned her on. She milked him dry, then slumped onto his chest, exhausted. She was breathless. "My God, you sure know how to please a woman." She hadn't been so thoroughly satisfied for years. "Thanks, but you did most of the work." He was amazed at her orgasmic ability. Most women weren't able to have a multi-orgasmic experience like hers—especially on a first date. They wanted to establish some sort of relationship before opening their legs—which he understood. The fact that Grace made love to him tonight was a puzzle. He chalked it up to luck (his), loneliness (hers), and being from out of town. Funny how a hotel room turns a woman on. Is it the clean sheets? The anonymity? Or is it that it's a new venue that lets you suspend your ordinary life for awhile? He thought it was a combination of all of those factors. The way she responded to his body was about what he expected. Most of the women he dated liked that he was powerfully built—the baser instincts still run deep in humans, despite the social veneer we all wear. Indoor plumbing, clothes, airplanes and automobiles don't compensate for the hunter-gatherer that is deep within the male, and the hearth keeper who craves protection buried inside every female. In Grace's case, finding a man larger than her was almost impossible. To have him be a good lover as well as gigantic was just a bonus. But she wasn't going to modify her life for a man. She wasn't ever going to do that again. This has already been a good trip, she learned more about the case, and had some fun to boot. So she flatly rejected the idea that she'd get all dewy-eyed and plan on shacking up with him, leaving her career behind. She wasn't beholden to anyone now, and she liked it that way. Grace lit a cigarette. "Want one?" She offered the pack to him. "Nope. I don't smoke." "Suit yourself." She lit up, took a deep drag. That was always the most satisfying cigarette—after meals and with her morning soda didn't compare to the cigarette after great sex. Tim said, "Thanks for making love to me. You are a tigress in bed." He was still in shock at how many orgasms she had experienced. "You're no slouch yourself, you know." She was still quivering after their multiple climaxes. She hoped she could keep her mind on her job tomorrow. It helped that she was a smart cop; that wouldn't be a problem, she thought. But having him spend the night was definitely not the right idea. "I hate to be a party pooper, but you can't spend the night. I need my beauty sleep." Grace wanted to make the ground rules clear. "No problem. Want to get together tomorrow after the interview?" Tim was testing the waters, to see if she would be staying another night. He'd welcome a chance to make love to her again before she left for Seattle. "Let's see how it goes." Grace didn't want to commit to anything. Trouble was, her body did. She immediately projected another lovemaking session for the next day. Tim noticed. "You want to, don't you?" He saw how her nipple stiffened while they were talking about tomorrow's schedule. Damn it! She hated this! "You're a good detective, detective." She continued. "Well, I don't want to lie and say I don't want to see you. Besides, we'll have to compare notes after the interview is over with." "In other words, yes. Good." Tim would find something for them to do between the interview and the bed. But the bed was definitely on the agenda. She was happy about that. Tim continued. "Tomorrow, I'll pick you up and we can go to the precinct together. I don't know who's coming to the interview, but the Secret Witness tip seems like a real good one. Woman called in, mid-20s, had three of the four markers we were looking for. I think she's one of the ones that were in the car. She might be able to shed some light on the way things went down." "Good that you've gotten a decent tip. Most of mine are bullshit." "Same here. I'd guess 90% of them are just looking for attention." "Or think we'll pay a reward for reading the news. I can't count the number of 'tips' I get where the caller just reads the news story. They don't even try to mix up the report. Just read it word for word." She lit another cigarette, blew a smoke ring, chuckled. "I know. Or they tell you about their dead cat or something equally stupid." Tim laughed. "Or want to know where the reward money is!" Grace guffawed. The couple continued to trade war stories and jokes for another hour. They were enjoying each others' company without the overlay of sexual tension and heart-stopping desire. Grace checked her watch—12:30. It was later than she thought. Despite the lateness, she was adamant about not letting him stay. "You know, you have to leave soon. I'm getting tired." "I know. I was holding out, hoping you'd change your mind." "Nope. You have to leave." She wasn't budging. "Even if I do this?" Tim reached for her breast, teased her nipple into a point. "Dddon't, I...need to...sleep..." Grace wasn't making a very good case for sleep. "After we're done, then you can sleep." He kissed her, devouring her mouth. She responded immediately, rubbing against his chest. He moved down her body, still kissing her, his tongue trailing across her belly, teasing her navel. He felt her torso quiver as he moved past her hips. Grace was panting now. "Please...put your tongue inside me..." She maneuvered herself to give him easy access to her damp center. Tim licked her pussy from top to bottom, then swirled his tongue inside her vagina. At the same time, he tugged on her clit with his thumb and forefinger, making her twitch with passion once again. He sucked some of her juice out of her pussy, deposited the lubricant onto her clit. He sucked it gently, feeling it grow inside his mouth. Then, he slid two fingers inside, again feeling her G-spot swelling. Now that she knew what would happen, she surrendered to his mouth and fingers. She could feel the buildup of fluid inside, knew she would squirt, wanted to squirt into his mouth. And when she felt her orgasm begin, her vagina clamped down hard on his fingers; just a few seconds later, her fluid came spilling out. Tim quickly switched positions, drank deeply as her come filled his mouth. "AHHHHHHHHHHH!" She was undulating on the bed again, out of control. Her torso bucked with abandon as she thrashed under his pleasuring tongue. At last, she calmed down, looked around, eyes focused again. "You're a stud..." she couldn't form any more words. Tim wasn't going to fuck her again tonight—he was content to make her come with his mouth. There was always tomorrow. "Think of me when you go to sleep tonight." Tim collected his clothes, got dressed. "I will, I will." She lit a cigarette, her hands shaking as she attempted to calm down. She wouldn't be masturbating after he left—all she needed now was sleep. Tim sat on the bed, watched TV for a few minutes. He muted the commercial, heard soft snoring behind him. Grace was asleep. He turned off the TV, covered her up, kissed her lightly. She curled up, turned over. As he left the room, he noted her room number in his phone. He'd need it to get in touch with her for the interview. A good night. Time for a drink and bed. Then we get to talk to the tipster. The Last Jar--Tim and Grace Ch. 02 "Well, that was an exciting interview, wasn't it?" Tim was driving, headed south on Kietzke Lane. "I could use a beer," Grace said. "How far is that brewpub we went to last night?" "Just a couple of minutes from here." He turned right up a narrow street, went three blocks, turned left, and pulled into the parking lot. They went up to the terrace, found the same table, ordered the same beers. "Gee, this is a really small town, isn't it?" Grace was amazed at how close everything seemed to be. "Well, yes and no. The important stuff is close by, but people have built houses 20 miles in every direction from the center of town. I'd rather live in town close to work, close to good clubs and restaurants, but still within an easy drive of mountains, desert, lakes and forests. I hate commuting. Seems stupid to sit in a car by yourself along with thousands of other people sitting in cars by themselves, just idling." "I know what you mean. I hate commuting too, but I do it because I can't afford a place close in." "Is Seattle expensive? I've never lived anywhere but here." Tim was showing his lack of exposure to other towns but he didn't care. He was comfortable in his ignorance. "You haven't? Wow! I don't think I've ever met any adult who was born and raised in the same town they settled in." "Well, you said you grew up in northern NJ. How long did it take you to move away?" Tim pointed out another parallel in their lives. Grace hesitated. "Busted again. I grew up there, and only moved away 4 years ago." She sipped her beer. "What difference does that make?" "Just goes to show that you probably wouldn't have moved if it hadn't been for your stupid chief of detectives not promoting you." "And my stupid boyfriend on his 'roids." "Dangerous stuff. We had an outbreak of steroid ODs at a couple of high schools a few years back. The teachers were buying the stuff and feeding it to the kids!" He paused, gripped the table tightly, anger showing in his normally placid face. "Thankfully, they are all doing hard time now. No kids died, but some of the parents wanted to string up the teachers. So did I." They sat silently, sipping their second round, processing the day's activities. A day that began with a routine, but was tossed into disarray with the accident. But the accident brought the other three players into the police's view. As it turned out, they didn't need to do any investigation at all—everyone the Reno PD needed to see was in the hospital emergency room. Tim was a conscientious cop, but also sensitive to families in distress. He realized that bracing them in the waiting room wasn't a good idea. Instead, a low-key introduction with a promise to contact later was all he needed to do. He figured that if Greg was as rich as Grace said he was, he'd bring a lawyer for the interviews. That didn't bother him. If there was nothing to hide, the lawyer would let Greg talk. If there was, then an indictment would be in the offing. It didn't matter to him either way. All he wanted was the truth. Following his train of thought, he asked, "Grace, do you think Greg will bring a lawyer to the interviews?" She thought for a moment. "Probably. This guy is loaded—makes Rick Davis look like a welfare dude. He probably doesn't go anywhere without legal protection." "Well, how about the others? Jessica and Paul? Do they have lawyers too, ya think?" "Not that they hired. If anything, Greg's probably got them all represented by his guy. "Ok. That helps a lot. If you're right, they'll all be lawyered up. How should I do the interviews?" "You're asking me for advice? I'm flattered, kind sir." She gave him a mock bow, then winked. "Shut up. Yes, I'm asking you for advice. You dealt with this Greg dude before. I hadn't met the guy before today, even though he probably pays enough taxes to foot my salary for a year." "More like 5 years, but that's another story for another time. He spent over 15 grand on a weekend stay at a hotel in Seattle, and flew there in his own jet plane." "Wow." Tim was impressed, now. "So he's rich, and likes to spend money. How should I approach the guy?" "Well," Grace raised her eyes to the setting sun, a beautiful sight illuminating the sky above them. A series of sculpted cloud formations took on the colors renowned in the western high desert—salmon, pink and purple splashed across the vista spread out beyond the mountains. "Just be polite, not accusatory, but insistent that you know exactly what happened in that room. Until we know, we can't determine whether a crime took place. And he's the only one who witnessed what happened." "Thanks, you're a big help." Tim raised his glass to her. "A toast to your smarts. I wish you lived down here; I could use your mind on some sticky cases I've had problems with." "I could use your body in some sticky places I've had problems with" she thought to herself. And she intended to use it tonight. Her body was revved up again, just like yesterday—fluttering heartbeat, dilated eyes, a light flush, and a very squishy pussy. But no, she wasn't going to do that all-in-for-a-man-thing again. Just stay in town through the interviews, get some more action in bed, and keep in touch. If nothing else, she'll have a place to go when she needed to get away from the rain. They ate at the pub, sharing more war stories about stupid cops who let cases get away, stupid prosecutors who screw up in court, witnesses who turn chicken on the stand, perps who pay their lawyers more per hour than the cops make in a month, and the idea that no matter how good a cop you are, there's some perp out there who is going to get away with something, and brag about it to his buddies. But then again, that guaranteed that there wouldn't be any shortage of perps. Because most of them got caught eventually. Much later, they were relaxing as the waiter again took the table decorations from the rest of the deck. Just like yesterday, the last jar mocked them, sitting there with its sprig of mountain lupine. Grace idly ran her finger around the top of the jar. "Do you think they want us to leave?" She asked, teasingly. "I don't know, but I think that's a fine idea," Tim replied, reaching for her hand and slowly massaging her fingers. The shock of his touch ignited her responses anew. "Ok." She was ready. So was he. In the truck, he slipped his hand between her breasts. Her nipples sprang up hard, sensitive to his touch. She stroked his massive arm, feeling her pussy get wetter and wetter as they came closer to the hotel. He pulled into valet, waited for the attendant to open her door. "Good evening, and welcome to the Peppermill," he said. "Thank you," said Tim. "Take care of her," motioning to the truck. "I'll take care of her," placing his arm around Grace's waist. The couple leaned against each other as they crossed the lobby to the elevators. "Remember your room number?" Tim asked. Grace seemed drunker than the night before. "Of course I do. I'm Polish, not stupid. And besides, you're the one that went the wrong way in the lobby." "Yep. Just testing you." In truth, he was completely turned around inside. He didn't want to look like a complete idiot, though. Especially since it seemed like another night of sexual fireworks was in store. Grace opened the hotel room door and all but flung him onto the closest king bed. She grabbed his shirt, stripped it off his massive chest, was still awed by the sheer size of his torso and arms. Her pussy gushed cream, dribbling into her panties and wetting her thighs. She was almost ready for an orgasm, and he hadn't even touched her. "Come here," she whispered, throwing her blouse aside. She wound herself around his body, sought his mouth for a hot, passion-filled kiss. Her sex was throbbing now, as their tongues mingled with desire. Tim slowly pulled her jeans down, found her panties glistening with her wetness. He slipped his hand between her shapely thighs, began to stroke her in rhythm with his thrusting tongue. She clamped her thighs around his hand, began to quiver with the throes of her first climax. "Ohhhhhh...." She gasped, unable to keep her balance. She fell sideways, still clutching his chest, pulling him atop her. Tim slid out of his pants, letting his cock bounce outward until it was pointed directly at her mouth. She took him inside, holding his cock and sucking him hard with one hand; at the same time, rubbing her pussy with her other hand. His cock grew even larger, until he nearly blew his load in her mouth. "Wait, don't suck me off yet..." he gasped. "I... want to fuck you, not just shoot in your mouth." "Ok, then fuck me!" her voice husky, thick with lust. He lay on his back and watched as she lowered herself onto his hot ramrod. "MMmmmmmmm, that feels so goooood...." She said, almost delirious with pleasure. She moved up and down atop his cock, on the upstroke feeling just the tip quiver inside her; on the downstroke, mashing her clit onto the base of his stick. After just a few strokes, she felt her insides convulsing with passion. "Yessss, uhhhh, huh huh huh....!" She was clawing his chest, riding his cock with abandon, gripping his massive thighs with her own well-shaped legs, shaking from head to toe as her orgasm created a full-body earthquake. Her vagina clamped down hard on his stick, and a flood of cream soaked his belly and the sheets. Tim was on his way, but wanted to hold on so that she could have another spasm. He wasn't disappointed: she continued to ride his cock until she began to quiver again. "You're making ....me....come...again...." she wailed. This time the climax started deep inside her vagina, as if the others had been foreplay. She felt a hard spasm in her belly that jerked her whole body. Then, it seemed like her vagina was turning inside out with all the crazy snapping, pulsing and throbbing it was doing. "DAMN!!!" she screamed, completely out of control. Her legs shook and her eyes lost focus, her arms akimbo, useless for anything. All she noticed was Tim's rock hard body underneath her, and his equally hard cock inside her. She then felt his spasms begin, with a huge thrust from below, as he took his pleasure at last. "Shit, I'm coming!!!" He yelled, thrusting upward with all his strength. Funny, he missed his workout today, but he didn't mind one bit. He pumped his spunk inside her, thrusting over and over. This was lovemaking par excellence. At last, they both calmed down, satisfied. Grace reached for a cigarette. "You are marvelous, dahling." "As are you, my dear." He lay next to her, watched as she lit up. Too bad she lived in Seattle. He could see making a go of this for awhile. But perhaps it was best with a long distance relationship. Kept things fresh. Tim said, "I'm actually tired now. That wait in the hospital was a real drain." Grace replied, "I know, it sure was. I'm getting tired myself. And besides, we drank more tonight than yesterday too." "True." Tim took care of himself, but he did drink nearly every day. It was his only real vice. "Well, I'm going to go home, you can get some rest, and what say we go somewhere outside the city tomorrow?" "What about the case?" Grace wasn't sure going out of town was a good idea. "It'll keep 'til the suspects are ready to talk. I don't think any of them are flight risks, especially with Jill in the hospital. And if they were, it would be simple to just get Greg's plane to land someplace." He wanted to give them a couple of days to reconnect with Jill, get used to her brush with death. "If you think that's Ok," Grace said. She still was reluctant to do that, but after all, it was his case, not hers. "I'm sure of it." He stretched, kissed her softly, teased her nipple into rigidity. "I thought you were tired," she said, slowly becoming aroused again. She hadn't felt like this in years. "I thought you were tired too," he replied. Was she ready for another round? Didn't seem possible considering how many times she came just then. Tim's questions were answered when she lay on her back, motioned him to her. "Please eat me out, I want your tongue inside me..." she whimpered. "My pleasure." Tim scooted down the bed to gain full access between her still-quivering thighs. He slid his tongue between her pussy lips, felt for her clit with his mouth. He gently sucked on it, making her eyes roll back in her head. "Mmy God, that's good...." She was rising along the climax rollercoaster, feeling her body respond to the movements of his tongue. He slipped his index finger inside her, massaging her G-spot like the first time they made love. Grace surrendered to the double stimulation of his tongue on her clit and fingers inside her pussy, began to shake, rolling back and forth on the bed. Then, suddenly, her toes curled, legs tensed, and her torso bucked and shook as another orgasm rumbled through her system. "AHHHHHHH, OH MY GOD!!!!" She was again launched into the stratosphere by the talents of her Reno lover. Feeling her climax made Tim's cock hard. Almost without thinking, he scooted up to kiss her. She tasted herself on his mouth, exciting her even further. Before he reentered her, he teased her clit with the tip of his penis, a move designed to make her beg for him. It worked. "Put your cock inside me, now..." she whined. Her legs were already shaking, and her vagina was swelling, preparing itself for more penetration. It wasn't fair that he was taking such advantage of her. Just because he was huge. Not only in his body, but he was as well-endowed as he was well-muscled. He entered her pulsing vagina without resistance, sliding in to the hilt. They slowed their lovemaking this time, making it tender, making it last. Tim was in complete control now; his first climax was tough to hold back, but now he had his second wind. Grace, meanwhile, was just happy to have a man inside her; especially one who was as wonderful in bed as he was. They slowly explored the joys of soft lovemaking, barely breathing, barely moving. Arms and legs interlocking, kissing with tenderness, feeling each others' pulse in unison, bodies locked in the ageless dance. It felt like Tantric sex—almost motionless, letting the small sensations created by a breath, a stroke along a muscle, a slight quiver—become deep pools for reflection, and for rest. Their souls became intertwined along with their bodies. The idea was to meld physical, emotional, and psychic desires into one all-encompassing whole. But eventually their passionate natures began to assert themselves, as Tim thrust harder into Grace's love tunnel, and Grace began to thrust back with equal energy. After a few minutes, they were pounding each other with pure abandon, each of them grunting and gasping as their mutual peaks shattered the night. After they were done, Tim said, "If we keep this up, I may have to move to Seattle." Grace replied, "No, if we're close, we'll get tired of each other. Let's just do this every few months, OK?" "Sounds good. Smoke?" "Thanks." Grace took a long drag, contemplated what she'd proposed. And why not? They were both consenting adults. The Last Jar--Tim and Grace Ch. 03 Tim looked over at Grace. She was filing her nails, a rare event because they were normally so chewed up from her job. The past few days she'd been able to pamper herself like it was a vacation. She even went to the hotel spa and had a massage and facial. The effect was immediate—it took 10 years off her face, erasing all the minute wrinkles that seemed to collect when you neglected yourself. She wondered—was she babying herself for Tim? She typically didn't go in for the 'girly' pursuits of shopping, pampering, or anything else. Her whole focus was solving cases. It wasn't in her plan to start going to spas just because she was the object of a man. She perked up after he and Greg disconnected. "So now we get to talk to the famous Greg Turner." "Yep. You'll be in the observation room, just like with Jill. Flo will be there too, like before." "Ok. You know, you Reno cops aren't bad." She tickled his chest, drawing a trace around his pectoral muscle. It looked like it was carved from solid marble. "Neither are you big-city cops from Seattle." He reached over her back, dragged her to him as if she were a rag doll, squeezed her hard around the waist. She gasped involuntarily, not expecting any physical contact before the interviews. He mashed his mouth to hers, thrusting his tongue inside. She shivered, sucking on his mouth as if it were her last source of oxygen. They stretched on the bed, winding their legs around each other. Grace ground her pussy along Tim's leg, leaving a wet track on its surface. She began to pant, as their kiss intensified. She could feel his erection growing alongside her pussy. She moved to rub her clit against the tip of his cock, knowing it could set off an orgasmic explosion without warning. Tim maneuvered himself so that he was kneeling between her legs. She slowly slid her pussy up and down his shaft, drenching it with her cream. She was close to coming, but wanted it to last awhile. Teetering on the edge of a peak was a trick she learned to heighten her responsiveness. But this time it wasn't going to wait as long as she wanted it to. After just a couple of minutes, her legs were quivering in anticipation of a huge climax. Her muscles flexed, her stomach tensing, preparing for the explosion. Tim moved forward, placing just the tip of his cock at the entrance of her drooling tunnel. The change in position pushed her over the edge. "Mmmmmmmm, uh huh, wow...." Her spasms began at her vagina, flowed down her thighs, then up her torso to the center of her chest. Her breathing was uneven as her climax blasted through her brain. Her pulse raced as her vagina throbbed in unison with her heartbeat. She clawed at his chest and back, completely out of control. "Fuck me now, deep!" she said, gasping. Tim slowly entered her fully, watching her face as she continued to climax. Her eyes closed as he scraped the inside of her body with his long stick. She seemed to be in another dimension, babbling uncontrollably, blinking back tears as she soared to a place she had only dreamed about. Many times she'd awakened, sweaty, wet, out of breath, sticky and swollen, after experiencing hot sexy dreams. When she dreamed like that, it took a long time to calm down, usually with a lengthy masturbation session. This was the first time she had felt that way while she was awake. "Ttim, I'm...still coming..." she stammered, continuing to throb without stopping. She was a mass of nothing but sensation as her body responded as if she were a teenage boy. Tim was trying to keep up with the Amazon, and lost control when she soared aloft for the fourth time. "Get ready, I'm coming now!" He yelled, pounding into her with all his strength. The room reverberated with their mutual howls, elemental in their lust. After several pulse-pounding, torso-twitching minutes, they calmed down. Grace was still vibrating, quivering with post-orgasmic bliss. "I didn't think we'd have time for sex before the interviews..." she stammered, trying to hold herself together. "There's always time for sex, interviews or not," Tim said. He stretched, flexing as Grace reached for a cigarette. They were both quivering, but knew they had to bring themselves back to center—to become cops again. Slowly, they both came back to earth. Grace spoke first, with a quaver in her voice. "How do you want to handle this?" She asked. Tim replied, "Just like we planned. Greg will probably be lawyered up, and I wouldn't be surprised if all of his crew used the same attorney. Just respectful, but insistent. I'll do the questioning—boss's orders." "No problem here. I still think they're flight risks, though." "Not likely. You saw how they hovered around Jill in the hospital. The family connections run deep here, even for transplants. No, they're not going anywhere, as long as she's laid up." Grace blew a cloud of smoke into the center of the room, away from Tim's face. "I hope you're right. It would suck big time if they didn't show up today." Tim replied, "Well, then we could get warrants right away for failure to appear, and then we'd have something to hold them on. Like I said before, I don't think this Turner guy is looking to escape from this. If he's as rich as you say he is, there's too much at stake for him to toss it off for the asshole. Even if he did hate the guy." "Well, let's get ready for this. I didn't bring a uniform—figured it wouldn't be any use down here. But let me update my boss on what's going on. Just take a minute." "Sure thing. I've got to do it too." They each retreated—Tim to his laptop, Grace to her iPad. Grace wrote: Found the guy who was in the room when Davis was killed. Name is Greg Turner, superrich trader. Same guy who was in Seattle with the widow, Jessica Davis. I spoke to him while he was in town, but didn't think he was involved in the Reno death. The people in the car fleeing the scene were Jessica, the widow, Turner, Jill Davis, the daughter, and Paul Pendleton, a college kid from Seattle. Jill was in a bad car wreck after her interview; she's laid up in ICU, out of touch for a few days at least. Gave an interview just before the crash, said she wasn't in the room when the fatal shot was fired. Also said that Rick attacked Jessica. Turner and Pendleton backed them up. Turner wounded Davis twice, non threatening. Interviews with the other three are scheduled for this afternoon starting at 1 PM. Reno PD did a good job on the scene. No footprints, but good forensics work with slugs, trajectories and piecing together the sequence of shots. I'm actually getting along with their lead dick. They didn't know that Davis put Turner in jail. Turns out the charges were bogus. I'll report back once the interviews are done. Dan Fuller, Chief of Detectives for the Seattle PD, answered her rambling post in one sentence: Good work, keep me posted. Grace stared at her screen. Shit. That's what you get to do when you're Chief of Detectives? I want that fucking job; it looks like less work and more pay to me. Tim wrote: A curious case. I've met with the Seattle police, and they didn't know that Davis put Turner behind bars because of his court testimony. The rest of the story tracks pretty well. That BOLO we put out was for the daughter's car; she came in for an interview but was in a crash right afterward. She's laid up at Renown in the ICU, out of touch for at least a few days. Interviews scheduled with the other three witnesses today starting at 1. Probably will all come with lawyers—the main guy is a billionaire (with a big B), so he's probably got top end representation. More than likely lawyered up everybody involved. I'll get back to you after the interviews are done. I don't feel real comfortable charging this guy with anything if it's not man one, at least. But since he didn't fire the fatal shot, he's probably in the clear. What do you think? Joe Schatz replied, Greg Turner is a big wheel in Reno politics. Lots of campaign contributions, well connected all over the world, not a street hood with a snoot full of shit or a meth head with no teeth. If you want to take him down, be damned sure, and I mean DAMNED sure, you've got enough juice to nail him and put him away. Otherwise, we'll look like idiots, and all the goodwill we built up taking down the rapist-murderer who killed Brianna Denison will come crashing down. You're lead on the investigation, and I trust your judgment, but consider what would happen to your career if you got egg on your face with someone who has the governor, half a dozen heads of state and the President of the US on speed dial. Tim sat back, nonplussed. Greg Turner was that powerful? My God, what had he stepped in to deserve this? Grace peered over Tim's shoulder, looked at Joe's response. "Turner has you guys scared? He doesn't scare me. I'm taller than he is." She lit another cigarette. "You know, you smoke an awful lot," he said. He didn't know whether it was habit or addiction; either way, she was stinking up his clothes. "But that's not the important thing. The important thing is getting through the interviews and figuring out whether there's enough evidence to charge this Turner guy with a crime that's more substantial than firing a gun in the city limits. Right now, that's all I've got." "Ok, but I hate crooks, even really rich ones." She could tell there was a split in their viewpoint—she had a more proscribed sense of justice than Tim did. Tim seemed to think that perps were frail humans who just needed a second (or third) chance. Grace saw perps as germs that needed to be stamped out. It kept her isolated from her contemporaries, but also meant that her cases were usually bulletproof. "Can we agree to disagree, just this once?" Tim wasn't going to back down, but he didn't want to get completely shut out of the bed of his lanky lover. "Well, I guess so," she teased, sticking out her tongue. "I don't like it, though, not one bit. The only reason I'm doing it is because you're so goddamned good in bed." She paused, reflecting on the last two days. "And fucking big. And handsome. And strong." "Whatever your reasoning, it works for me." Tim continued, "Well, it's just about time. Can I shower here?" "Of course. As long as I can join you." The two naked lovers stepped into the shower, jockeying for position. "Let me wash your back," Tim said, playing the spray across her face and breasts. "Sure," she said, reeling from his touch. She felt his arms behind her, soaping her back and shoulders. He dipped his arm across her shoulder blade, dripping soapy water down the center of her chest. "Mmmm, that feels nice," she sighed, leaning against his body. The shower sprayed both of them, stimulating them in different ways. The stinging needles aroused his skin, making it tingle. Grace, by comparison, was relaxing from the slower velocity of water sluicing off his body and slipping down her torso. A rivulet of warmth traveled between her legs, arousing her in spite of the work ahead of them. She wriggled, squeezing her thighs together, as their mouths searched for each other under the showerhead. Tim's cock pushed between her legs, sliding between them and catching her off guard. "You know we have to go to work soon," she gasped, trying to calm down. "Don't do that, you'll make me want to fuck you again." "But I want you to fuck me again," he said, sliding back and forth. "What's wrong with a quickie in the shower?" His stick was fully engorged, and he felt her pussy lips open around the tip. Her wetness mixed with the water, her tunnel swelling and opening, delicately beckoning him. "Please, fuck me now," she begged, pulling him inside. "With pleasure," he said, balancing her body on his thighs. He held her like she was weightless, the water continuing to drench them. She ground her hips into his torso, opening her mouth to him, scratching his back. He thrust against her, pinning her against the shower wall, until she was whimpering with her climax. "Goddamn it, you are a fabulous lover," she hissed, almost losing her balance. Her orgasm surprised her with its intensity—she nearly passed out, it felt so good. Her whole body throbbed with the delicious sensations. Tim held on through her first climax, but couldn't wait for her second. "Ahhhhhhh," he sighed, pushing into her. He thrust so hard he was afraid he'd break her in half. Luckily, she was strong enough for him. "Nice shower, eh?" he said, kissing her dewy face. "Yep, I'll say," she replied. She was still feeling the spasms in her thighs, quivering with pleasure. They emerged from the shower relaxed and ready for the day's activities. Tim dressed in the plainclothes he'd worn; Grace slipped on a pair of slacks and a short sleeved blouse. She strapped her holster on, then donned a light jacket. "I need to get my guns from the safe downstairs." "I'll get the truck while you get your guns, Annie Oakley." "Sounds good, sheriff," getting into the swing of Reno life. It wasn't Seattle, but not a bad town altogether. Grace stepped to the hotel counter. "I need my firearms from the safe." The desk clerk, oddly enough the same one who checked her in, was manning the counter. "Right away, ma'am. Are you enjoying your stay?" She was trained to ask, even though she was terrified of the response. But luckily, she needn't have worried. "Yes, very much. Reno seems like a nice town." "I am glad." What a relief! This woman could probably step on her like a bug and she'd never notice. Grace stepped onto the porte cochere where Tim had pulled up. "Ready?" he asked. "Yep. Let's do it." She wanted to know exactly what happened in that office. And now she'd finally get a chance to find out.