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The Cop and the Killer Ch. 01

By: DAB32697



It had been an evening straight out of a romance novel, Miranda Wagner thought to herself.  Seated in the back of a stretch limousine with a crystal champagne flute in her hand, Miranda admired her professionally manicured nails as well as the sparkling diamonds and pearls adorning her wrists, ears and sleek neck. As her mysterious man of the evening filled her glass, Miranda shut her eyes and inhaled softly but deeply, breathing the enticing aroma of fine leather which covered the seats of this magnificent transport. As her full and ruby lips gently made contact with the rim of the crystal flute, the crisp bite of the chilled Dom Perignon tickled her tongue and soothed her throat as it went down. Shifting her lean and slender body, Miranda sexily crossed her legs toward her handsome companion and the stimulating scent of his Stetson cologne whiffed into her nostrils.  It wasn't often that Miranda found the scent of a man so appealing.  In fact, it had never happened. But this night had been so perfect, so romantic and so seducing that Miranda had inadvertently succumb to her innermost feminine wiles.

Miranda Wagner stood an imposing 5'11"; her body was a lean, powerful, finely tuned athletic instrument. Possessing exquisite feminine muscle definition from the tips of her toes to the top of her head and wrapped with sultry alabaster skin and delicate feminine softness, Miranda turned every head she passed.  Combining these with her platinum blonde hair that flowed fully and gracefully to just above her shoulder blades, piercing sky blue eyes, a sparkling white, pearly smile, ruby lips, firm and perky 34 C-cup breasts and the face of an angel; a face that looked ten years younger than Miranda's thirty-nine years, the woman's sexual allure to the male species was virtually irresistible. 

The limo suddenly made a sharp turn to the right and Miranda opened her eyes to find her gaze met by the deep and captivating stare of her companion. He was truly a man among men; a man that could melt any woman into a puddle of sexual submission and have her willingly fulfilling all of his deepest wants and desires in a matter of moments. Six feet three with dark olive skin, thick and greased black hair with penetrating dark eyes on a rugged face with a perfectly groomed goatee. His body was almost supernaturally powerful, toned and ripped with muscle to near Greek God perfection; he had a captivating smile, a hypnotic laugh, a heart melting Latin accent and possessed the charm of the serpent that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden.

Running the tip of a gold-ringed finger gently over the delicate and soft white silk-stockings that covered her long and toned legs, Miranda's heart thumped wildly as her body tensed upon feeling his lips make contact with the delectable skin of her perfectly sleek and alluring neck. Nervously twisting the string of pearls with her finger, Miranda took another sip of her champagne as she again shifted her body weight and crossed her legs the other direction.

"Are you alright?" He asked in his deep and sexy Latin accent.

"I'm fine." Miranda replied assuredly.

"Are you sure?" He continued. "You seem so nervous all of the sudden."

"Well, maybe just a little. I mean, it's not every day that a waitress at Denny's in East Los Angeles is swept off her feet like this." Miranda covered. 

"It should be everyday, my love." He hissed seductively; his lips and tongue just centimeters from her ear.

Miranda could feel is breath in her ear and felt his powerful hand sliding firmly and slowly down the front of her body. Miranda's pulse accelerated, her stomach spasmed and she felt dizzy. Turning her head and staring hard out the dark tinted window, Miranda saw it. 

"Oh my God!" Miranda almost shouted as she looked out the window. "Is that yours?"

The limo was cruising along a secluded access road on the outer perimeter of the Los Angeles International Airport, approaching a restricted area of private hangars where many of Hollywood's elite and certain others with more money that God himself kept their most exclusive flying toys. Miranda's eyes focused on a Gulfstream III, a wide-body private business jet that provided seating for up to nineteen passengers, long range flight capability and a maximum cruising speed of nearly 575 miles per hour. The sleek aircraft sat waiting in the night, gangway open with a red carpet rolled out on the tarmac in front of her brightly lit hangar. Her aluminum body glistened under the light.

"One of several." He replied with an ego-centric grin.

"I thought you said we were just going for coffee?" Miranda asked.

"We are. And what better place to have an after dinner coffee than in Seattle?" he said.

"Oh, I think I'm in love." Miranda whispered and pecked him quickly on the lips. She felt the bile rising in her throat. 

The limo came to a stop at the head of the red carpet and the door was opened by an enormous bear of a man in an Armani suit that Miranda could practically see her reflection in. His shoulders were massive, his neck practically non-existent and his body rivaled the size of a full moon. His arms were the size of any other man's legs, his eyes were deeply embedded in his puffy red cheeks and his goatee was as neatly groomed as her companions. Reaching his bear paw of a right hand in through the open door, Miranda slipped her much smaller hand into it and he helped her out. Miranda immediately noticed the 9 mm Beretta holstered just inside the man's jacket. 

Besides "Bear man" packing the heat, there was a stunning woman whom Miranda, judging strictly by her face, placed in her early fifties.  Though the woman's face was attractive with sharp and striking blue eyes and high cheeks, it was considerably worn by life and lined deeply; especially around her mouth, which Miranda found very comely and alluring none the less. Her body, on the other hand, said that the woman was at least twenty years younger than that. She wore a splendid navy blue flight attendant uniform complete with a silk scarf and classic hat. A pair of sparkling gold flying wings was pinned just above her surprisingly big and pert breasts; she had sexy long legs, a scrumptious looking ass, divinely curved hips, coal black hair that draped down to the base of her long neck. Her gold plated name tag read Tammy. Along with Tammy, two uniformed pilots, a man with Captain's bars in his mid forties and another attractive woman acting as FO was probably in her late thirties to just past forty. They all were waiting beside the gangway. Miranda's stomach knotted slightly and she sighed softly at the sight of the three crew members. It couldn't be helped.

Miranda's companion stepped out of the limo after her, they joined arms and he escorted her to the gangway. The crew members offered warm greetings to him and Miranda as he assisted her up the gangway and into the lavish interior of the aircraft. Much like the limo, it was all leather and shiny mahogany; a full service wet bar, loveseats and sofas, flat screen, plasma TV screens, internet, satellite phones, the works. Divided into two cabins, Miranda was led through the front cabin, where she noted two more men, both with dark complexions and lean, powerful builds, much like her companion; they too were wearing Armani suits and armed with semi-automatic pistols holstered inside their jackets. They sat almost soulless on the leather sofas of the front cabin and Miranda felt their icy stares on her as she walked through. Twiddle Dumb and Twiddle Dee, Miranda thought. Miranda then heard the thud of the cabin door closing behind her and then the muffled conversation between the pilots as they entered the flight deck. Bear man joined his two comrades in arms sitting in the front cabin while Tammy the flight attendant followed the couple into the rear cabin and shut the door behind them.

"Champagne?" Tammy asked in thick European accent.

"Please." Miranda's companion replied.

Tammy disappeared into the rear galley as Miranda adjusted her long Versace evening gown and seated herself on one of the leather sofas as her companion sank down into the leather cushion beside her, draping his arm around her sexily muscled, bare shoulders. Within moments the aircraft engines roared to life. Tammy reappeared from the rear galley carrying a silver tray with two more filled champagne flutes on it. They took their glasses, toasted them and then nuzzled nose to nose as the aircraft taxied out to the runway. Miranda's stomach had completely tied itself in knots and her heart raced. Tiny beads of sweat formed just under her hairline.  Miranda didn't notice that her body was trembling until her companion whispered in her ear.

"Nervous?" He asked.

"Not much on flying." Miranda lied.

And it wasn't from fear of flying or any fear for that matter that had Miranda in its grip. It was anticipation. Anticipation of what lay ahead; not the primary matter, but the secondary issues that had at the last minute presented themselves. Once again, it couldn't be helped. It was just the way certain situations played themselves out. Still, Miranda didn't like it and it was showing. It frequently happened to her. Far more frequently than it used to. In fact, it was happening almost every time now. That's why Miranda wanted out. She couldn't take it any longer. She had one shot to be free forever and God have mercy on her soul if she failed. God have mercy on her soul anyway.  But so far, everything was falling into place.  T-minus however long it took to fly to Seattle. 

The aircraft ascended rapidly into the night sky over the City of Angels, banked hard to the right and was soon northbound toward the distant Emerald City of Seattle, Washington. Tammy dimmed the lights of the cabin, flipped on the stereo that filled the cabin with soft, romantic music, and then she quietly exited the rear cabin to the front, closing the door behind her. Miranda's companion swallowed the last of his champagne, set down his glass and stood up. Facing down at Miranda and her gorgeous smile, he slipped off his tuxedo jacket and undid his bow tie. Miranda slid her body slowly down the sofa, spread her legs and teasingly rubbed the delicate fabric of her panties with the tips of her fingers. The white fabric was a perfect canvas for her candy-apple red fingernails.

Slipping off his shirt now, Miranda focused her eyes on his muscled torso, his dark nipples and his ripped abdomen. It repulsed her. He loosened his belt, undid his Armani slacks, let them drop to the floor and kicked them off his ankles, revealing a navy blue pair of jockey shorts covering what appeared to be a very large cock. Pulling his dark socks off his feet, he slipped is hands into the waist line of his jockeys.

"Wait! Turn around first." Miranda hissed.

"What?" he replied; somewhat incredulously.

"Turn around." She repeated. "Bend over and slip them down slowly. I want to take you all in."

With an almost sinister grin, he did as instructed and kicked the jockeys off.

"Now rise up slowly." Miranda instructed. "Run your hands up your body. Slowly. Imagine that they're mine, caressing you; wanting you. Close your eyes. See me in your mind's eye."

With just the slightest hint of hesitation, he did as he was instructed until he stood up right with his muscled back to her.

"Now turn around. Let me see you." Miranda hissed.

"And I'd better be seeing a lot more of you." He told her. 

"Are your eyes still closed?" Miranda asked.

"Yes." He replied.

"Good. Keep'em that way. And just wait till you see what I have for you." Miranda cooed.

He turned around, his eyes closed. He felt her hand slide around his shaft and stroke it gently to the head. A soft moan passed her lips.

"You want me to suck it?" Miranda asked.

"Oh, more than anything." He replied.

"You want to watch me suck you?" Miranda asked.

"Yes." He told her.

"Then open your eyes." Miranda said.

When his eyes opened, all he saw was the flash. The man was dead before he could hear the pop of the silenced round. His lifeless naked body dropped almost gracefully backward and hit the floor with a gentle thud. The bullet hole was perfectly centered between his eyes, at the top hitch of his nose. Unfortunately, he had felt no pain, Melanie thought.

"And suck on this, you motherfucker!" She hissed.

Miranda lowered the German made, 9mm Sig-Sauer P226 to her side. Small puffs of smoke still gently whiffing from the silencer attached to the end of the barrel. Thank God she had kept his hands away from her inner thighs where she had kept the weapon concealed. She had debated choosing another gown; one without a split seam along the front. The length was mandatory but the split seam was optional and unfortunately, it worked both ways. It made access to her gun very easy, but also ran the risk of her overzealous companion discovering it if he'd gotten a little too fresh. Either way, she was a professional. She would have made it work had she been found out.

Though she had no need to do it, Miranda quickly checked her quarry for a pulse, both by the neck and on the wrist. Nothing. Of course nothing! As if the bullet hole between the eyes and the brain matter spackled all over the side of the fuselage didn't tell the story well enough.

Miranda kicked off her shoes, stepped over the body and positioned herself against the wall separating the two cabins, just to the left of the door. When the door burst open, she would catch it and it would offer her just the cover she needed to complete the job.

"Oh my God! Julio!! Julio!!" Miranda screamed in her best bloodcurdling screech.

Within seconds, the cabin door burst open and Miranda caught it with gentle ease as Bear man and his two cronies charged in from the front cabin, guns drawn and moving toward the body of their boss in single file. It was almost too easy, Miranda almost snickered, as she closed her left eye, raised her weapon and squeezed off three rounds. She only needed three. Almost with domino falling precision, the three men toppled. Twiddle Dee, who was following up the rear dropped first, the bullet from Miranda's expertly, aimed shot entering dead center through his ear. Twiddle Dumb was just a step ahead of him and barely heard the whirr of the bullet that took down his rear before the back of his head disintegrated with Miranda's second shot. He didn't hear that whirring bullet. Bear man, hearing the thud of Twiddle Dee hitting the floor spun around mid stride just in time to be greeted with the same fate as his late boss. It was so fast that he didn't even notice Twiddle Dumb and Twiddle Dee were both already dead. The bullet hit squarely between his eyes and sheered through his massive head with ease. His bulk crumbled far less gracefully than his former employer and his lifeless body hit the floor with such heavy force that it nearly caused the plane to lose altitude.

Miranda shut the dividing door connecting the two cabins and then calmly surveyed the scene; stepping over the fallen bodies, Miranda checked each man for a pulse. Four for Four. Stretching out as if she had just awoken from a pleasant afternoon nap, Miranda let down her thick and flowing platinum blond and it fell gracefully down over her shoulders to between her blades.

"God Miranda, you are so beautiful." Tammy's voice cut through the eerie stillness of the cabin. Her accent was gone.

Miranda looked up to find Tammy standing with her arms folded over her chest in the now open doorway. The sight of her slender and sexy figure leaning up against the thin doorjamb caused Miranda's body to tingle with desire for the first time that night. 

"Thank you." Miranda replied with a seductive smile.

"There is no sexier sight on Earth than a beautiful woman holding a gun." Tammy said.

"Especially if she knows how to use it, huh?" Miranda replied. "And if you didn't look so fucking sexy yourself, I'd probably shoot you for using my real name. I'm Sabrina tonight, remember. Tammy?"

Obviously Tammy was the flight attendants alias for this evening. Tammy considered it for a brief second, rolled her eyes and smiled again.

"You even dropped your accent, too. Went from Paris, France to Paris, Texas, huh?" Miranda joshed.

"Oh yes." Tammy replied. "Forgive me. Memory loss. Comes with getting old."

"So, what do you think?" Miranda inquired. 

"I think I want you on that sofa with your legs open wide. I hear your pussy calling my name." Tammy hissed.

Tammy undid her silk scarf and let it drop teasingly to the floor as she began a seductive stride toward Miranda. Again, Miranda's body tingled with desire, a powerful wave of lustful heat flooded through her like a Tsunami and now her cunt ached desperately for this extremely sexy older woman's attention. Miranda was getting wet for the first time tonight.

Sinking down into the fine leather of the sofa, Miranda spread her legs as Tammy slipped off her jacket, stepping over the bodies and began to unbutton her blouse. Miranda could feel her wetness saturating her panties and this sent a fit of fury coursing through her highly aroused body.

"God, I want you so bad." Miranda hissed as Tammy's blouse slide down her tone arms, revealing a gorgeous pair of pert breasts in a black lace bra, straining to contain them.

"How bad?" Tammy asked, as she unhooked her bra and let slid it down her arms.

Tammy never had a chance to react. The bullet was through her brain and blasting out the back of her head before it even registered the flash of the muzzle.  Her lifeless body fell backward and rolled over Bear man's mass even before her discarded bra hit the floor. Tammy's body came to rest with her legs dangling over Bear man's breathless chest and her head rested on the boss man's stomach.

"Unfortunately, not as bad as I want out of this job, cunt." Miranda said coldly.

Miranda rose and strode casually over to the pile of human carnage. She studied Tammy's half naked body and sighed deeply. Even now, it was still getting her wet.

"Sorry, Elise." Miranda said to Tammy's glazed eyes. "You were the best teacher a girl could have. But I can't do this anymore. And thanks to your selection of flight crew this evening, you are also a great friend to the end."

Miranda ran a hand through her hair, straightened her evening gown and strode confidently toward the front of the cabin. Taking a last glance back at what she now knew was her last hit, save two more unfortunately, she turned off the cabin lights and closed the door behind her. Welcome to Seattle, ladies and gentlemen she thought to herself and marched toward the flight deck door. Now it was her heart aching and again, she felt the bile rising up her throat as she knocked on the flight deck door. There were tears of sorrow welling in her eyes. 

**   *

Amy Styles had never experienced a hangover like this in all of her thirty-seven years. Lying in the center of her king size bed, the room spun violently as her head throbbed mercilessly. She had already snoozed her alarm clock at least a dozen times and now the fucking thing was going off again. A fifteen year veteran of the Seattle Police Department and a homicide detective for the last seven, Amy now contemplated committing homicide herself as the relentless barking of her next door neighbors Scottish terrier now joined in the chorus with her beeping alarm.

Rousing herself now, Amy swung her aching body upright and dropped her long, muscular legs and bare feet onto the cold, hardwood floor of her bedroom. She felt the blood rush out of her head and the vomit rush toward her mouth. With her normally dazzling emerald green eyes now puffy red slits in her worn face, Amy ran a shaking hand through her scraggly auburn hair while she reached for the fifth of Absolut Citron on her bedside table with her other shaking hand. With just a couple of shots worth left in it at best, Amy guzzled the remaining contents of the bottle and her entire body cringed as the citrus flavored vodka went down her raw throat. Setting the bottle down once again, Amy focused all the conscious effort she possessed at the moment to hold the vodka down. She then fumbled her hand across the cluttered bedside table top in search of her cigarettes. It took a few seconds for the runners of her memory to break through the thick fog now clouding her conscious mind to remind her that she had quit smoking nine years ago. God, how many brain cells have I killed? Amy wondered. Sitting motionless on the edge of her bed, Amy closed her eyes and rubbed her face. What day is it? How long have I been out? Amy thought. Letting her hands run down her face, Amy turned her head cautiously and gazed longingly over her shoulder at the opposite side of her bed. There was nobody there. There hadn't been for a long time. How long now? Four years? Five, since Susan left her? Amy couldn't remember. In truth, she didn't want to.  No woman had ever captured Amy's heart, mind or soul like Doctor Susan McConnell. And certainly no woman had ever sexually pleasured Amy's body like Susan McConnell had either. 


The Cop and the Killer Ch. 01



"Oh, Susan." Amy sighed. 

It wasn't until her cell phone rang that Amy realized she was lying back on her bed, her underwear down around her knees, teasing and squeezing her left nipple and feverously thrusting her right middle and index fingers in and out of her now soaking wet pussy with images of Doctor Susan McConnell's beautiful face and gorgeous body running sexually rampant through her mind. Amy was so close to orgasm that she almost let the call go to voicemail, but she was already in enough hot water with her squad lieutenant over her drinking and the recent epidemic of tardiness and lethargy it was bringing about. Amy slipped her fingers out of her slit, rolled her twitching body over and could have sworn she heard her aching pussy shout, "Don't tease me like this you fucking bitch!" She reached over and snapped up her cell phone.

"Styles." Amy said with a frustrated sigh into her cell phone.

"You dead?" The gravelly voice of her partner, Detective Ted Cline asked through the phone.

"More like undead." Amy warily replied as she arched her back and jerked up her underpants.

"Yeah, you sound it. Jesus Christ Amy, why don't you just go ahead and swallow a fucking bullet or gut yourself like a samurai instead of trying to drown yourself in Stoli." Cline snapped.

"That would be Absolut, thank you very much." Amy shot back.

"Whatever!" Cline said. "It could be Popov for all I care."

"Is there some particular reason you're calling Ted? I mean other than to just break my balls and critique my particular brand of vodka?" Amy asked.

"Well, there is this little matter of seven DOA's found aboard a private jet that landed at Sea-Tac last night, but in truth I was really hoping for some phone sex." Cline rebuked.

"Okay, I think you have my attention." Amy answered, suddenly wide awake.

"About the phone sex or the seven DOA's?" Cline asked.

"Eat me, Ted." Amy roared, rubbing her temples.

"Been wanting to for years." Cline snickered.

"Now Ted, you know I'd never want to come between you and your beautiful bride." Amy said as she stretched.

"Didn't she spend the night with you last night?" Cline jabbed sarcastically. 

"Eating me out as we speak, my love." Amy giggled.

"Shall I pick you up?" Cline asked.

"No, I'll meet you there. Got to get your child bride off to school first." Amy snickered. "What's the twenty?"

Cline gave Amy the information on the location of the crime scene.

"Give me an hour." Amy told him.

"Hey, Shawna isn't really with you, is she?" Cline asked with a hint of anxiety in his voice.

"No, Ted. Randi is." Amy replied.

"Oh, thank God." Cline said relieved.

"Fuck off, Ted!" Amy snapped.

Amy put the phone down and stumbled to the bathroom. Ted Cline was 51 years old and had been married for six months now to a twenty-two year old former showgirl he'd met on a weekend getaway to Las Vegas with his ex-wife Randi in hopes of rekindling the passion in their faltering 23 year marriage. Oh well. 

Amy turned the water on in the shower, wrestled herself out of her raggedy flannel night shirt, slipped off her full bottom underpants then stared at her naked body in the full length mirror behind the door. Immediately her mind went back to the woman who had no doubt been the love of her life, Doctor Susan McConnell; a tenured vascular surgeon at Seattle General. Amy remembered how beautifully their naked bodies melted together in the throes of passion. How Susan's steady and skilled surgical hands used to trace with that magical precision over her body, knowing just the right hot spots and pressure points that would overwhelm every fiber of Amy's physical being with unbridled, illicit pleasure. And then when they slipped inside her. Oh my God! At this, Amy sucked in a deep orgasmic breath as she could almost feel Susan's long, sturdy and skilled fingers massaging deep inside her. Her pussy was tingling now, saturating with overwhelming arousal.

Despite the fact that her diet was mainly a liquid one anymore, not to mention that her daily exercise program had deteriorated considerably; okay, it didn't exist anymore. Then there were the several broken bones, three gunshot wounds, two stab wounds and countless black eyes and bloody lips she'd sustained in her years of duty in the protection and service of the citizens of Seattle; despite all this, Amy was most impressed with how appealing her thirty-seven year old body still was. If only her face had weathered those years as well as her body. Though she had piercing, deep and captivating emerald green eyes, Amy's nose had been broken probably one too many times. Her cheeks were high and her mouth was smaller than she'd like and her years of job stress, lack of a regular sleeping pattern, pour nutrition, heavy drinking and smoking had left deep lines in her cheeks.  It wasn't exactly angelic, but neither was it demonic or unattractive. Amy's mother liked to call it the face of a woman fulfilled. Not hardly! Most people called it cute. 

Closely examining her 5'9" frame in the mirror now, Amy ran the palms of her hands slowly all over her body. Her peaches and cream skin was surprisingly soft and smooth although a bit on the dry side this morning. Her auburn hair, though course and straggly at the moment was full and flowing, hanging down between her shoulder blades. Her shoulders were broad, tone and filled out with delectable and highly alluring feminine muscularity. Amy's arms likewise, were muscle toned to near feminine perfection, topped off with slender hands and long, sexy fingers with clear polish. Her neck was solid but sleek with an adorable Adam's apple. Her waist was trim; her stomach was flat enough to suit her but her six pack abs had not been visible for some time. Her torso was slender, her hips curved firmly and beautifully and they shaped her steel solid ass delightfully. Long and powerful legs that had no doubt carried Amy over almost every square inch of the Puget Sound area in her fifteen years on the force were now ripped wonderfully with sexy feminine muscle and curved exquisitely in all the right spots. 

With her mind still on Susan and her arousal building, Amy teased her half-dollar sized dark brown nipples with the tips of her fingernails. Protruding out like fresh pencil erasers now, Amy caressed her full and pert 36 C-cup breasts that were now very tender and sensitive with arousal. A sensual moan escaped her pouting, albeit at the moment, dry lips. For two mounds of womanhood that had never had any aftermarket enhancement, Amy's breasts were holding their own remarkably well for their age.

Amy slipped into the shower and the warm water doused her tingling, sexually charged body thoroughly. After washing her hair, Amy lathered her glistening body slowly and sensually. In her mind's eye, Susan was there and Amy found herself pressed up against the tile wall under the shower head, her body twitching, her heart pounding, and her lungs straining against the immense orgasmic pressure building up inside her to find air. Amy's hand slid down the front of her body, grazing the flat of her palm over her completely shaven mound; the tips of her fingers teased and massaged her swollen folds. Instantly, her index and middle fingers were deep inside her. Amy's hips bucked, her head rolled aimlessly from side to side as illicit pleasure coursed through her body; she thrust herself down on and against her penetrating fingers, riding them hard. With her orgasm racking through her now shuddering body, Amy seized the shower head directly above her in her free hand and her mouth sucked erotically on her bicep as she felt the inner walls of her pussy collapse under the force of her orgasm. Her fingers, hand and the inside of her thigh were doused with her juices; she could hear nothing but the pounding of her pulse in her ears. Gasping for air, Amy's legs turned to jelly and she sank her orgasm rattled body to the floor of the shower stall; steam had completely engulfed her like a thick cloud of smoke. With her legs twitching and her chest heaving, Amy slumped like a sack of horse meal against the wall, totally spent. Not bad, she thought. But not nearly as good as Susan McConnell, M.D. Jesus, was anybody?

Forty-five minutes later, Amy sipped her usual morning venti White Chocolate Mocha as she drove her silver, 2008 Mustang GT away from the Starbucks drive thru. With her stomach still queasy, Amy didn't know if putting something this heavy on it was the wisest of choices, but then again, wisdom had not been her strong suit recently, particularly where her well being was concerned. Amy headed south down Interstate 5 toward Seattle-Tacoma International Airport on a surprisingly sunny and clear February morning. Under bright blue skies and an unseasonably warm sun, Mount Rainier was out in all her majestic glory, as were the Olympics to the west and the Cascades to the east. 

With her hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in a pair of easy-fitting blue jeans, a low cut, long sleeve, white pullover that clung tightly to her slender torso and nicely displayed the girls and a tan leather vest. Amy rested her left wrist on the steering wheel, sipped her mocha with her right and pushed the accelerator near to the floor with her snake skinned, cowboy booted right foot. Having been born and raised to the age of eighteen in the suburbs of Dallas, Texas - Detective Sergeant Amy Styles loved her cowboy boots.

The crime scene wasn't anything like Amy had anticipated. Parking her Mustang at the edge of the police tape amidst the numerous police cruisers, unmarked cars, EMS and rescue vehicles, forensic vans and officials from the Seattle Port Authority, Amy slipped off her sunglasses and surveyed the scene. The Gulfstream III jet had skidded off the runway during landing, crashed through the perimeter fence, its nose gear had obviously been torn off and it finally slid to a stop just a few yards shy of a steep drop off into a heavily wooded area nearly fifty feet below.  The emergency escape slides had been inflated at both the front and rear exits; the forward now having been replaced by a short step ladder to allow the crime scene investigators access into the aircraft. The sleek jet showed no signs of smoke or flame damage and Amy could not detect any odor that would indicate fuel spillage.

With her badge clipped on her belt, just to the left of her buckle and her 9 mm Browning BDM holstered on her right side, Amy strode to the tape line, displayed her credentials to the young, burly uniformed officer on guard and stepped under it. Ted Cline was conferring with two more uniformed officers and a member of the forensics team just below the main cabin door.  Amy slipped her sunglasses back on and approached Cline. Ted Cline was tall and ruggedly handsome. Standing nearly 6'5", with broad and powerful shoulders, enormous hands, a trim waist and Olympic cyclist legs; his face was worn, his dark brown eyes were deeply embedded in his narrow, somewhat gawky cheeks and his cropped hair was so blond it was almost white. Cline was wearing a navy blue Hugo Boss suit that was pressed to perfection and a lavender silk tie. If there was a true Odd Couple partnering in the homicide division of the Seattle Police Department, it was Amy Styles and Ted Cline, with Amy playing the slob of Oscar Madison and Ted Cline being the epitome of fussy Felix Unger.

Cline dismissed the officers and glanced in Amy's direction. A shit-eating grin filled his lips and he slipped off his sunglasses.

"Boy, don't we look flush this morning. Randi took good care of you I see." Cline said.

"She's the best fuck I've ever had Ted; how could you possibly dump a piece of ass that good?" Amy replied.

"Long story." Cline answered.

"I have no doubt. And speaking of stories, why don't you tell me one?" Amy said as she motioned toward the disabled aircraft in front of them.

"I'll tell you half of one. Aircraft originated out of Los Angeles just before 1:00am this morning and touched down here at ten minutes past four." Cline explained.

"Declared an emergency?" Amy asked.

"Nope. According to the flight controllers, both here and at the center, descent, approach and landing were all textbook perfect. It wasn't until transmissions weren't responded to just after landing that there was any indication of a problem." Cline continued.

"Okay." Amy said incredulously and frowned.

"Captain of a Northwest Airlines heavy jet spotted the aircraft as he was taxiing for departure." Cline added.

"FAA been notified?" Amy asked

"Yep. NTSB, Seattle Port Authority too." Cline said.

"So what next?" Amy asked.

Cline smiled and motioned toward the open door to the aircraft.

"You tell me." He said.

Amy rolled her eyes, climbed the ladder and stepped aboard the aircraft as Cline followed. Two more uniformed officers stood guard near the forward galley. The interior of the aircraft looked as though a tornado had torn through it as debris of every kind from broken dishes and glasses to champagne bottles, pillows, blankets, oxygen masks were scattered all about. Cline stopped Amy and directed her toward the flight deck were two CSI's were at work in the cramp space.

"You guys step out for a second." Cline ordered. "Give Detective Styles a look."

The two CSI's stepped out of the flight deck. Amy snapped plastic gloves on her hands and stepped in to examine John Doe #1 - the flight captain. He was in the left hand seat and his body was slumped to the left, his head resting on the side window; the side window was splattered with blood and brain matter. Amy carefully studied the wound through the man's head and though her own head still ached, her criminal justice mind was hard at work. Cline gave her a few moments. Despite their child-like banter and crude sexual innuendo, Ted Cline held the utmost respect for Amy Styles as a homicide detective. She was a good cop. Even though she'd had seemingly more than her share of personal demons, the worst of which was a devastating break up with a woman she loved dearly; a break up that she had never truly gotten over, and now while her heavy drinking was beginning to concern him greatly, Cline knew that Amy Styles was still the best cop on the force and he would trust her with his life. No, not just a good cop, but she was a great cop! And a brilliant criminologist!  As people often refer to most police departments as the cities finest, Amy Styles was the type of cop they were referring to with that statement. She was by far one of the best and bravest law enforcement officers Ted Cline had ever encountered in his thirty year law enforcement career. And the man had once worked for the FBI. 

"Well Detective?" Cline began.

"Where are the rest?" Amy asked with her face pinched with deep concentration.

Cline led Amy into the front cabin where a handful of CSI's were meticulously scouring the cabin as a forensics expert was examining the body of Jane Doe #1 - a very attractive woman who appeared to be in her early forties with blond hair and dressed in a stunning Versace evening gown. Her body was lying on its side with what appeared to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound to her head. 

"Detective Styles, meet Jane Doe #1." Cline winched.

Amy squatted over the body and let her investigative mind continue to spin. Though he would never openly admit it, Cline loved Amy with all his heart. In many ways, she was the daughter he always wanted and he loved to watch her mind work. Her meticulous and deliberate observations, her overall comportment and her sheer resilience made her irresistibly adorable to him. 

"What do you think?" Amy asked the Forensic agent.

"What you see is most likely what you get." He replied. "Self-inflicted gunshot wound."

Cline was pacing calmly and patiently behind them, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his slacks.

"Do you have the weapon?" Amy asked.

The forensic agent, a chubby, balding man of 45 with a beet read face and thick beard named Frank Abernathy held up a plastic evidence bag containing a 9mm Sig-Sauer P226 with silencer.

"9 mm Sig-Sauer 226." Abernathy told her. "Found it next to the body."

Abernathy handed Amy the bag and she examined it carefully.

"Holds fifteen in the mag, right?" Amy inquired.

"Indeed it does." Abernathy replied. "Very sensible weapon; German made."

"So how many rounds were left?" Amy asked.

"Just one in the chamber; the other fourteen you'll find to your right and through the door. Well, except for the one in the cockpit." Abernathy said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Amy rose and Cline followed her to the rear cabin where several more forensic agents and crime scene investigators were actively and meticulously sweeping, dusting and photographing the crime scene. The bodies of Julio, Bear Man, Tammy, Twiddle Dumb and Twiddle Dee had obviously been tossed around in the crash. The rear cabin, much like the front was in total post-crash disarray. Amy took her time and carefully examined each of the bodies as Cline again paced patiently with his hands in his pockets.

"Do any of them have positive identification on them?" Amy asked of nobody in-particular.

"No Detective." A female voice returned. "Two Jane Doe's and five John's." Cline couldn't help but chuckle at the woman's description.

Amy stood up and removed the plastic gloves.

"So, Detective...Tell me a story." Cline said.

"Well, this has all the makings of a hit." Amy said matter of factly.

"Mob?" Cline asked with the hint of a fatherly proud smile on his face.

"No. I said it had all the makings of hit, I didn't say that's what it was. This is way too precise, far too clean and lacks of feeling to be a mob hit." Amy continued.

A tall and lanky woman in her mid thirties with short and cropped black hair, wearing a CSI jacket, tan kakis and white tennis shoes stared incredulously at Amy. 

"What do you mean by lacks of feeling?" She asked.

"Mob hits are more often than not rooted in a personal vendetta. Hence, they want to inflict a lot of pain to repay for personal wrongs done against them. The kills are usually pretty messy in terms of method; you know, slit throats, hooks in meat lockers, buried alive under fresh concrete, that sort of thing." Amy began. "But that didn't happen here. I mean, look at these."

Cline's smile grew. "Keep going." He said. "Listen and learn my dear." He offered to the lanky woman.

Amy continued. "A single shot placed with expert precision at the most operative points; right between the eyes, directly through the ear drum and at the bass of the brain stem. These poor bastards were dead before they even heard the shot or saw the muzzle flash. No pain whatsoever." Amy paused and glanced briefly at Cline to see him smiling proudly at her.

"Please go on." He said.

"The boy in his birthday suit is one Julio Salazar - big time international, black market arms dealer. One of the biggest; the Mob wouldn't have any reason or more to the point, the balls to touch him. So that means that this, for lack of a better term, was an assassination. Not a hit."

"What's the difference?" The lanky woman asked.

"Basically, who orders it, who carries it out and why they carry it out. A hit is personal, an assassination is business." Amy answered. 

"Please continue, Detective." Cline said.

"The three guys in the Armani suits were obviously his private security detail and the topless woman was more than likely the flight attendant who was obviously preparing to provide some very exclusive in-flight services when she suddenly found herself meeting her maker." Amy said.

Cline chuckled. "Nice way of putting it."

"The man in the cockpit was obviously the pilot." Amy continued. 

"So what about the woman in the forward cabin?" Cline inquired as a master to his apprentice.




The Cop and the Killer Ch. 01



"Ahh, now there is the rub, good Horatio." Amy said. "A most elusive and baffling lady in waiting so to speak." 

"What the fuck are you two talking about?" The lanky woman asked harshly.

"She didn't kill herself, did she?" Cline said confidently.

"No. But she does have a very interesting story to tell, provided one can read between the lines." Amy said.

"Then tell it." Cline said with a grin.

"She would have us believe that she was the assassin." Amy began. "Have we confirmed with Sea-Tac control whether the voice transmissions from this flight were male or female?" 

"Male." Cline replied.

"Very interesting." Amy said. "So, we can assume that the pilot was alive through landing. Based upon the track of the bullet, the assassin was obviously in the right seat." 

"So what is Jane Doe # 1 really telling us?" Cline asked.

"Two things: First, that the assassin was a woman." Amy answered. 

"You're saying that a woman did all this?" The lanky woman shouted aghast.

"Ever heard of Equal Opportunity Employment?" Cline jabbed playfully.

"I find that extremely hard to believe." The lanky woman said.

"Detective Styles?" Cline asked.

"Julio Salazar had himself a very hot date last night with a mysterious young lady wearing a Versace evening gown. While the three musketeers there waited in the forward cabin - Julio, our mystery woman and the flight attendant were going to have themselves a little sexual romp. Mystery woman obviously watched Julio and the flight attendant disrobe, then from her seat..." Amy made a gun firing motion with her thumb and index finger. "Popped them both in the head."

"Talk about foreplay." Cline said.

"Obviously she had her weapon holstered under her gown. Most likely on her inner or back thigh." Amy added.

"God I love it when you talk dirty." Cline said.

"As the weapon was silenced, there was no chance that the boys could have heard the shots; especially over the engine noise. So, our young lady then moved to a prime position near the cabin door, screamed of trouble and waited. The boys marched in single file, guns drawn and then fell like dominos as she picked them off from most likely behind that door." 

"Are you just making this up as you go along?" The lanky woman asked.

"Pretty much." Amy said. "Once the primary quarry was bagged, our mystery lady went to the flight deck and took the co-pilot hostage."

"The co-pilot?" The lanky woman asked.

"That's the second thing Jane Doe #1 tells us. She was the co-pilot." Amy said. "I noticed that the pilot's wrists had deep red divots all around them, indicating that he'd been bond and there were traces of sticky resin around his mouth. Somebody covered his mouth with duct tape. My guess is the assassin forced the co-pilot to buck and gag the pilot then the two of them swapped outfits.  Once she donned the Versace gown, the co-pilot got shot in the head at point blank range to make it look like a suicide. The assassin wiped the gun clean, marked it with the co-pilot's fingerprints and placed it appropriately. Then she returned to the flight deck, untied the pilot and held him at gunpoint from the right hand seat until they landed. She shot him in the head, intentionally ran the plane off the runway, activated the emergency escape systems and slipped off into the night before help arrived. What was the elapse time between loss of contact and emergency crews arriving on the scene?" 

"Somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen to twenty minutes." Cline told her. "The FAA is still trying to iron out a precise sequence of events."

"Canvas going?" Amy asked.

"What kind of a cop do you take me for?" Cline said. "So, give me the moral of the story, Detective."

"This was an assassination of a very powerful and dangerous figure." Amy said. "Very well funded, very well planned and executed by a highly trained, incredibly skilled professional killer. One that might be a little fed up with this line of work and her only way out was to stage her own death."

"Hence the suicide angle." Cline commented.

"Boy, you are a good cop." Amy said as she smiled. "And given the reputation of Julio Salazar and the nature of this situation, chances are good that the Feds will be taking over the investigation and we'll be left holding our limp dicks in the wind."

"And the chances of finding the assassin?" Cline asked, already knowing the answer.

"Negative 100%, my love." Amy said. "Professionals like her don't get caught. It's hard enough for their employers to even find them."

"I don't understand." The lanky woman piped up. "I've always thought that assassinations are targeted on one person."

"They are. But you're forgetting the prime code of assassination; or at least, one of many underlying the term: Assassination is perfectly legal and justified if you're on the right side." Amy said.

"How poetic." The lanky woman remarked.

"And with assassination often comes elimination." Cline added.

"Pardon?" The lanky woman replied.

"Assassinate the target. Eliminate the witnesses where necessary." Amy said.  

One of the uniformed officers appeared at the cabin door.

"Detective Cline, the FBI is here." He announced.

"Fun while it lasted though, wasn't it?" Amy sighed. 

"STYLES!!!!!" A booming male voice roared like a T-Rex through the cabin, startling everyone out of their wits. Everyone but Amy and Ted Cline.

Amy turned to behold her squad lieutenant, Nathan Ellis. Ellis was a broad, burly and powerful black man who stood just a couple of inches shorter than Cline, but was a much thicker man all throughout. He had an enormous beer belly that bulged out from under his grey suit coat and blue shirt. Black and shiny wing tips were on his shovel size feet, double chinned with a thick mustache, his shirt collar and tie seemed to be on the verge of asphyxiating him.

"Lieutenant." Amy nearly whispered.

"Outside! Now!" Ellis roared and stormed out.

Amy shrugged at Cline and then followed after Ellis as two Federal Agents in dark suits and even darker sunglasses entered the cabin.

Amy descended the step ladder and spotted Ellis near the tapeline, motioning her toward him with his finger. Amy felt a knot forming in her still queasy stomach.

"Yes, sir?" Amy asked humbly.

"As of right now, you are on indefinite suspension. I need your gun, your shield and your police ID." Ellis said extremely coldly.

Amy's anxiety was immediately replaced by rage.

"Suspended? In the name of God, why? What the fuck is this all about?" Amy demanded.

"The Ryan Wallace/Katherine Regal homicide." Ellis roared.

"What about it?" Amy asked. "It was cut and dry. His wife gave a full confession. She's on trial as we speak."

"She walked!" Ellis said. 

"What?" Amy said aghast. "She shot her husband in the head six times and then bludgeoned Katherine Regal to death with a fucking hatchet."

"Mistrial. Improper procedures in filing evidence, suspected forgery in logging the evidence, tampering with the evidence and a surveillance video of the investigating officer, one detective-sergeant Amy Styles engaging in a wild lesbian sex act with Ryan Wallace's widow - one Debra Wallace. On the very bed where she had brutally murdered her husband and his lover."

Amy's body spasmed and her stomach tied itself in knots. She felt the vomit rising up her throat like magma up a volcano. Her legs buckled and she felt sure they would give out on her any moment.

"Lieutenant, you have to understand..." Amy began.

"I've seen the tape, Styles. Very arousing to say the least. You ever thought of going into the adult film industry? You could easily become a fucking starlet." Ellis said.

The tears were building up behind Amy's eyes; she felt her throat closing up, her heart raced and she suddenly forgot how to breathe. She began to sweat. Ellis held out his hand, his thick fingers spread open wide.

"Your gun, your shield and your police ID, Styles. Now!!" Ellis demanded.

Amy's entire body was shaking almost uncontrollably and she could hardly hold her hands steady as she handed over the only three things left in the world that made her still feel as though she were alive: her gun, her badge and her police ID. Without them, she had no life. She did not exist. She did not matter. Just like that, Amy Styles was no longer a cop. And just like that, Amy Styles was as dead as the seven people aboard the aircraft behind her.

"IAB has already been notified and they're beginning their investigation. You are suspended indefinitely pending the outcome of that investigation. They'll be in touch so don't be taking any vacations." Ellis added.

Amy couldn't look Ellis in the eye. She'd probably never be able to look anyone in the eye again. Amy stared, hopeless and helpless at the concrete tarmac beneath her feet, fighting the welling tears with every fiber of strength she had.

"Lieutenant, I..." Amy barely uttered.

"Don't speak, Amy." Ellis said, his tone softening tremendously. The fact that he called her Amy brought her just the slightest inkling of comfort. "Don't say a fucking word. You know, you're one of the best police officers I've ever had the privilege of working with. Or at least, you were. But this is bad. It's impossible to predict anything in this world, but if I were you, I would seriously consider looking for another line of work."

"Like what?" Amy asked. "Lesbian porno movies?"

"I hear Spec's Liquor is hiring." Ellis said coldly. "Now get the fuck out of my sight."

Amy shuffled slowly to her car, the tears racing down her cheeks.

*** 

Miranda Wagner sat on the edge of the bed in her Extended Stay America Hotel room, staring at herself in the mirror and absentmindedly stroking her freshly cut and dyed hair. The platinum blonde had been replaced with shiny, walnut brown and the hair itself, much thinner, now curved gently up around the base of her neck, just barely brushing the tops of her shoulders.  Dressed in a University of Washington sweatshirt, snug fitting blue jeans and a pair of sneakers that she'd purchased at Wal-Mart, along with several other new wardrobe items and toiletries, Miranda exhaled a deep, cleansing breath. Sliding on the pair of tortoise-shelled rim glasses that contained no prescription, Miranda felt as though she had been transported back in time to her brief stint at the University of Southern California. She was the bookworm once again. But anything was better than what she had spent the last twelve years of her life doing. Miranda wrapped up the blouse, blazer and slacks of the pilot uniformed she had donned in one of the plastic Wal-Mart bags along with the shredded remains of identification and flight logs she had removed when she made her escape. 

Miranda felt paralyzing chills creep up her spine as she heard the pitiful sobs and the horrified pleas of the woman she had taken the uniform from and shot a point blank range stalking around in her memory.  After the pilot activated the reverse thrusters and the aircraft slowed, Miranda fired what she hoped and prayed would be her last kill shot through the man's ear. Having already taken out the co-pilot and now occupying her seat, Miranda knew enough about aircraft systems to deactivate the reverse thrusters and then throttled up full, sending the Gulfstream III racing off the end of the runway, it's weight sinking the landing gear deep into the wet ground. Breaking through the perimeter fence, Miranda throttled back full and the nose of the aircraft dropped hard as the front gear snapped off. The crippled aircraft slid fairly smooth across the grass and finally came to a stop just before the drop off. The emergency evac switch was directly above Miranda's head and less than thirty seconds after she'd thrown it, Miranda was sliding down the escape shoot out of the forward galley exit, her body like a missile sliding over the wet rubber through the gentle falling drizzle, holding the co-pilots catalogue case tightly in her hands. It took the better part of two hours to work her way around the perimeter of the airport and finally hail a cab on the curbside passenger pickup of the main terminal. The rain was falling much harder by then and since she was wearing a pilot's uniform, the cab driver didn't give her or the fact that she was soaking wet a second thought. Dropping her at the Extended Stay America near downtown, Miranda checked in under an entirely new alias and fictitious address from Fairbanks, Alaska and paid two weeks rent in advance in cash. It was near seven in the morning when she finally got to her room and collapsed on her bed. Her sleep was troubled, but long and she opened her eyes around four-thirty in the afternoon. That's when she walked to the Wal-Mart she'd spotted on the cab ride in, had her hair cut and died and made her purchases, paid for all in cash. 

Glancing at herself once more in the mirror, Miranda sneered, slipped off the grotesque pair of glasses and tossed them on the bed. I'd still like to get laid from time to time in this new life, she thought.

Stepping out into the cool of the evening, the plastic bag in her hand, Miranda was hit by a cool and refreshing breeze that carried the smell of the sea on it. The sun had dropped below the distant Olympic Mountains and the soft light of orange and purple remaining in the sky was breathtaking. Miranda strolled casually along the sidewalk, crossed the street and continued down a steep hill toward the Seattle waterfront. The famous Pike's Fish Market was buzzing with activity. People were chatting freely and laughing heartily as beautiful couples, young and old, were holding hands and necking. Miranda's heart ached.  All around her people were enjoying each other and enjoying their lives and freedom. If only they truly understood just how much others, people like herself, had sacrificed in order to provide them with these treasured privileges. Miranda had always wanted a family, she'd always wanted children. Did it really matter that she was gay? Homosexual couples had and raised families together. Why couldn't she? It just wasn't meant to be, she always had reasoned to herself. She was called to a purpose that few understood and even fewer could actually do. 

Well, not anymore!

Miranda strode casually among all the bustling gifts shops, restaurants and taverns that lined the famous Seattle waterfront, eventually coming upon a secluded pier that jettisoned a good thirty feet out over the filthy waters of Puget Sound. There was a construction project on the pier, evidently the future home of another waterfront gift shop or restaurant. Glancing around to make certain she wasn't being watched or followed Miranda snatched a brick off a stack from the construction site and slipped it into the plastic bag. Tying off the bag securely and making one final check over her shoulder, Miranda let the bag drop over the wooden railing of the pier and watched it disappear with a gentle splash of black water into the dark and murky depths of Puget Sound. Miranda sighed deeply. Now it was over.

Miranda's step was now much lighter, her heart and soul much brighter as she continued her walk along the waterfront as the fading daylight turned to gentle and alluring moonlight. The sky was filled with stars and a gentle sea breeze whipped softly through her hair. Miranda turned east, climbed swiftly up the steep streets and wandered casually into the heart of downtown Seattle. In all her travels, Seattle was one of the few places she'd never been. Though she'd only been in town for less than twelve hours and her arrival was quite surreal, she felt a connection to the city. It was a big city yes, but it was also a very quaint and cozy feel about it. It had a beautiful heart. The closest she'd ever come to Seattle before now was by watching the occasional rerun of "Frasier".

Turning a corner now, Miranda found herself in the heart of what appeared to be a high-end avenue of four star restaurants, high-roller bars, quaint pubs and taverns. Miranda could hear more laughter and people enjoying their lives all around her. As she continued up the sidewalk, she listened to the trolley bells on the tour buses and heard the monorail roar by over head. Then she saw an all too familiar sign beaming with a soft green glow in the dark night and she felt her heart skip. A bright green neon sign that read - O'MALLEY'S IRISH PUB. Miranda's face lit up in a beautiful smile. Having been born and raised in Chicago, her mother the oldest daughter of an Irish immigrant and owner of an O'Malley's pub, Miranda felt as if she'd finally come home. Some of her happiest childhood memories were inside her grandfather's west side pub. It was only then that Miranda realized how thirsty she was and nothing quenched thirst like a pint of Guinness. 

The crowd was very light tonight and this rather surprised Miranda. The place was almost a carbon copy of her grandfather's place expect maybe just a hair smaller. A long, mahogany bar ran the length of the room with soft cushioned, high-back stools and brass plated rails ran the full length of the bar at foot level and also enclosed the two waitress wells at each end. The place was dimly lit, booths lined the opposite wall from the bar, low riding tables and chairs in the center between and there were pool tables, dart boards and pinball machines toward the rear, followed by the restrooms and the back door. There were three registers behind the bar, an enormous assortment of liquor bottles and several beer taps. Though it was geared for three, only one bartender was working tonight and there couldn't have been more than a dozen patrons. The TV monitors were all tuned into ESPN and ESPN 2. She didn't notice that two very longing and wanting eyes had just fallen upon her. 

* **

Amy Styles sat at the far end corner of the bar when she first saw the brunette wearing the University of Washington sweatshirt and tight blue jeans come into the bar. Guzzling the last of her second Absolut Citron cosmopolitan, Amy spotted her over the rim of her martini glass. The woman was a looker! Setting the glass down, the twenty-something, freckle-faced bartender named Erin, with long, glowing red hair, enormous green eyes, pale skin and big, adorable dimples wearing the tight green O'Malley's T-shirt and even tighter black jeans that accentuated her beautiful hips and voluptuous ass divinely, suddenly appeared and obstructed Amy's view of the woman.

"Another cosmo, Amy?" Erin asked with a beaming smile, her dimples seemingly blowing Amy kisses.

"Don't you think it's a little early, Erin?" Amy replied.

"For another drink?" Erin said, eyeing her closely.

"For stupid question, darling." Amy said. "Less cranberry juice this time."

Erin began preparing another drink for Amy with expert bartending skills. She could have easily acted as a coach for Tom Cruise while he was preparing for his role in Cocktail.

"More citron you mean." Erin whipped.

"That's my girl." Amy smiled seductively as she watched Erin work. "Erin, since I'm already buzzed, I'm sure you won't mind me asking this. How can you let such a gorgeous body go to waste on men?"

Erin was straining Amy's cosmopolitan from her mixing tin into a freshly chilled martini glass.

"Guess I'm what you call an old-fashion girl." Erin said as she dumped the spent ice from her mixing tin into the sink, set another cocktail napkin in front of Amy, squeezed the lime wedge into the glass and served Amy her drink.

"I'll drink to that." Amy said and she took a sip of her drink.

Erin turned to find the brunette in the University of Washington sweatshirt standing just across the bar from her. Erin's face lit up in a warm and welcoming smile and she set a cocktail napkin down in front of her.

"Good evening. What can I get for you?" Erin asked sweetly.




The Cop and the Killer Ch. 01



"Pint of Guinness please." Miranda said with a smile.

"Dark?" Erin asked.

"Oh, God yes. Thank you." Miranda replied.

"And put it on my tab." Amy said, slurring slightly as she pulled her glass away from her lips.

"Excuse me?" Miranda asked, almost whispering.

Amy took another sip of her drink and set the glass down on the bar. Erin was eyeing the situation closely as she filled a pint glass from the tap. Amy's eyes bore in on Miranda and she felt them doing so. They were captivating even if a little droopy. 

"Look, I'm not what you call a game player, okay." Amy said. "Right now I'm buzzing, I'm horny, I'm a lesbian and you're absolutely gorgeous, so I want to buy you a drink." Amy said.

There was an eternally long moment of silence as Miranda stared at Amy curiously. Erin quietly set the full pint of Guinness down in front of Miranda and waited anxiously. Amy picked up her glass and brought it to her lips.

"And now is when you tell me to go fuck myself, pay for your own drink and walk off." Amy said and sipped her drink.

Miranda smiled warmly and stuck the wad of cash she held in her hand back in her pocket. The scores of men and women who had offered to by her drinks in her lifetime were as numberless as the stars in the sky; but she had never had anyone be so gut-level honest with her from the get go as this woman had been. Regardless of where this night might lead, Miranda was certain that she would not easily forget this woman. It was very refreshing and even a little exciting. 

"No." Miranda said softly. "Now is when I say thank you and ask you if this seat next to you is taken?" 

"Please." Amy said as she scooped up her purse off the stool next to her and hung it by the strap over the back of her own. Miranda slid down on the stool beside Amy.

"Thank you." Miranda said with a smile. "I'm Miranda."

"Amy."

"Pleasure to meet you." 

The two women shook hands and each was quietly impressed and somewhat excited by the powerful grip the other possessed. Amy held up her glass.

"Cheers." 

"Cheers." 

They clinked glasses and drank. Miranda took a long, soothing slug, nearly guzzling half the pint.

"My goodness." Amy said. 

"Oh God. That hit the spot." Miranda said and set her glass down. "So, what were we toasting?"

"The end of an illustrious career." Amy said and swallowed the last of her cosmo. Miranda's heart skipped a beat and her stomach knotted.

"Really?" Miranda dropped her stare to the bar top and took a sip of her beer.

"Erin!" Amy called, holding up her empty glass. "This was perfect. Hit me again." 

"Coming right up." Erin said.

Erin cleared away the empty glass and mixed another cosmo as Amy bore her stare down on Miranda and smiled.

"So, what do you do? Or rather, what did you do?" Miranda asked and took another sip of her beer.

"I'm a cop." Amy said. Miranda nearly gagged but Amy hardly noticed.  "At least, I think I'm still a cop." She muttered primarily to herself.

Miranda's pulse rate went through the roof. She felt her heart pounding and her stomach spasming. Of all the women in the world she could have met tonight, why a cop? And why such a beautiful cop at that. Miranda was unbelievably aroused by Amy; the woman seemed to ooze divine sexuality from every pore - not to mention she was built like a brick shithouse and her long auburn hair and her sparkling emerald green eyes caused almost every one of Miranda's breaths to catch in her throat.  And now as she heard the woman reveal she was a cop, a strange feeling deep in the pit of her stomach only seemed to excite her all the more. Certainly explained the woman's firm and powerful handshake.

"You're a cop, huh?" Miranda finally managed to ask.

"Yep. Fifteen years." Amy said and smiled as Erin set a fresh cosmopolitan in front of her.

"Seattle PD?" Miranda queried.

"Yep.  Precinct 18, Detective First Grade, Sergeant Amy Styles. Shield number 48731. "  Amy told her.

"A detective, huh?" Miranda said.

"Got a Masters Degree in criminology from the University of Texas." Amy said.

"I thought I detected a little Texas twang in your voice." Miranda said. "Whereabouts?"

"Dallas." Amy answered. "And yes, I'm a big Cowboys fan."

"A Texas cowgirl solving murders in Seattle, Washington. My, how the roads of life twist and turn." Miranda commented.

"Tell me about it." Amy whipped.

"Wow. Well all I can say to that is if you're only a quarter as smart as you are beautiful, then Einstein had best watch his back." Miranda said.

Amy smiled warmly as Miranda's complement penetrated deeply into her soul. Amy suddenly felt her heart begin to pound and her core temperature rise. Miranda was as charming and captivating as she was beautiful and sexy. Amy hadn't felt her body tingle like this since the night she first met Susan McConnell. 

"Thank you." Amy said humbly, feeling her cheeks flush and her throat tighten.

"So, what happened?" Miranda asked.

Amy sighed. "Well, I can't really give any of the particulars. Let's just say I fucked up." Amy sipped her drink. "You ever heard it said that there is nothing that gets a man into more trouble than his dick?"

"Yeah." Miranda chuckled.

"Well, my dick got me into a shitload of trouble." Amy said. The two women burst into hysterical laughter, toasted their glasses and drank.

With Erin threatening to cut her off if she didn't eat something, Amy ordered some nachos and Miranda, suddenly realizing that she was starving, ordered an O'Malley burger basket. When the food arrived, the two women split the enormous bacon-cheese burger and nibbled continuously on the thick and greasy onion rings and Erin generously continued to refill the nacho basket. Amy drank two glasses of water while she ate as Miranda had a second pint of Guinness. When they finished eating, Erin cleared away the baskets and reluctantly made Amy another cosmopolitan, adjusting her pour ratio to equal more cranberry juice than vodka and triple sec. Instead of a third pint of Guinness, Miranda changed her tune and ordered a Jameson on the rocks. 

Miranda had spent most of the time listening to Amy and Amy didn't mind doing most of the talking. She needed to.  She told of her early life in Texas, her physically abusive father and her alcoholic mother. She told of her brother's death at seventeen and her sister's death in child birth at twenty-six. Both of Amy's parents were passed on as well now and Amy, with the exception of Ted Cline, who was like a second father, had no family left anywhere. She, like Miranda, was totally alone in the world. Amy had even recently lost her faithful old collie Sampson to old age. He was twenty-two. Amy skidded around the subject of Susan as best she could, saying only that it was a very painful break up and that she hadn't seen or spoken to Susan since. Amy knew that her drinking had played a part, as well as infidelity. 

The more Miranda listened, the more her heart began to break for this poor creature. Amy made two trips to the ladies room in the interval and it was then that Miranda questioned Erin, and the information that Erin provided only caused Miranda's heart to break further; and at the same time, make Amy all the more irresistible and sexy. Amy was one of the most highly decorated officers on the Seattle police force. She was a hero. She had received three stars of commendation from the mayor of Seattle, two from the governor of Washington and one special envoy from the President of the United States.  She had even been nominated for the Congressional Medal of Honor and for Police Officer of the Year. She had been wounded several times in the line of duty, saved the lives of seven fellow officers, dozens of civilians and closed more homicide cases than any other detective in the past ten years. She was just a few months shy of promotion to Detective-Lieutenant. Yet here she was on the verge of losing it all. What had happened to her? Erin summarized it in one word:

"Susan."

Miranda's mind spun as her heart continued to break for this beautiful woman she was now coming to have unbelievable respect and admiration for.  Amy Styles was a brave and selfless human being who had sacrificed so much in the service of her fellow citizens and yet carried so many emotional scars and been so badly mistreated by life. Even on the so called "recognized" right side of the law, those who dedicated their lives to its service got the shit end of the stick. Miranda had always believed she was serving the law in what she did. She was not a cold blooded killer who killed at random or at will. It was in the service of her country. The free world needed to be preserved at any cost and sometimes the best way to preserve it was a way that most people didn't want to hear about. What the world might be like if she had been doing this in 1938 and the names of Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin came across her desk? Regardless of the ethics or the morality, Miranda knew that she and Amy were on the same side, fighting the same enemy, protecting and serving the same people. 

And their jobs consumed their very hearts, lives and souls. They sat on the sidelines and watched the joy and happiness of life in the people they protected. Clearly Amy was resilient, resourceful, highly intelligent, kind, and compassionate; not to mention she was one of the most physically attractive women Miranda had ever laid eyes on. The more Erin spoke of Amy's courage and integrity, the more deeply aroused and attracted Miranda was to her. Her heart pounded, her pulse raced, her respiration soared and her pussy ached and saturated. As Amy returned the last time from the restroom and smiled sweetly, Miranda's entire body tingled with a want and desire she had never known before. Studying Amy closely, there was a deep and inviting warmth in the woman's gorgeous emerald eyes; almost an innocence of sorts. Her voice was soft and sensual and her creamy skin, as she and Miranda had already commenced the playful squeezes of the hand, was surprisingly soft and smooth. 

"So where are you from?" Amy asked.

"Chicago, originally." Miranda answered.

"The windy city." Amy said. "Actually considered joining the force there."

"Why didn't you?" Miranda asked.

"Too fucking cold and windy." Amy replied.

"It is that." Miranda said.

"So, what brings you to Seattle?" Amy asked.

Miranda sipped her Jameson and considered her response carefully. "Oh, you know how life goes. Things don't work out. Times often come around where you need a change. Throw caution to the wind and you want to start over."

The two women stared long and deep at each other as if trying to read the other's mind.

"So, have I told you how beautiful I think you are?" Amy slurred.

"Several times." Miranda giggled.

"Well make it one more." Amy smiled and swallowed the last of her fifth cosmopolitan. "Boy, it's getting late." She stood. "Time this gal returned to the john. Be right back."

Amy slipped off her bar stool, snatched up her purse and headed off toward the ladies room. Miranda's eyes zeroed in on Amy's sumptuous ass, wrapped immaculately in her tight jeans as is it swung ever so seductively away. Letting her eyes graze hungrily up the rest of Amy's tempting body, Miranda saw that Amy slightly turned her head and took a quick glance back it her. She smiled, almost seductively and continued on to the bathroom. 

Amy slipped into the small, dimly lit ladies room and stepped toward the first of two stalls. Suddenly she felt a pair of powerful albeit very sensual hands seize her biceps and before she could fully process what was happening, Amy was face to face with Miranda. For a fraction of an instant, Amy was gripped with fear, but with her body pressed firmly up against Miranda's, it immediately gave way to overwhelming arousal. Miranda was an incredibly powerful woman; her physical prowess and her sudden aggressiveness deeply excited Amy. The woman's body was deliciously lean and firm and the deep, penetrating stare shooting out of her captivating blue eyes was hypnotic. Amy could feel them reading deep into her soul and she could feel herself trembling deep inside. Her body was turning to mush in the woman's grip, her heart rattled wildly in her chest and she was breathless with anticipation.

"What are you doing?" Amy demanded in a frail voice.

"You need someone to love you, baby. And you need it right now." Miranda said with her voice full of assertive but gentle compassion.

Instantly, Miranda covered Amy's mouth with her own and slid her powerful arms around her, pulling the beautiful cop firmly against her. Amy's natural instincts kicked up briefly before she could stop them and she found herself resisting. Miranda's hand snapped up to the back of Amy's head, her fingers digging into Amy's silky soft hair. Probing her tongue against Amy's lips, they soon faltered and Amy surrendered her body and mouth to this mysterious and extraordinarily exciting woman.

In the throes of a deep kiss, their tongues battling for dominance deep inside the other's mouth, Miranda gently wrestled Amy into the nearest stall. Never letting her mouth separate from Amy's, Miranda closed and locked the stall door and the two women dropped down on the commode, vehemently pawing at each other's bodies with their wandering hands. Miranda straddled Amy's lap, her tongue exploring the deepest recesses of Amy's warm and sensual mouth. Both women's chest where heaving, their hearts pounding relentlessly with the force and speed of NASCAR engine pistons. Amy's hands slipped under Miranda's sweatshirt and explored her lean and slender torso while reveling in the delicate feminine softness of her porcelain like skin. Miranda undid Amy's ponytail and ran her long fingers through the flowing auburn hair as it draped down the woman's shoulders and back. Miranda slipped her mouth off Amy's and lowered it to her neck, sucking and nibbling on the delectably soft, deliciously flavored flesh the woman possessed. Amy's eyes closed, her head rolled gently from side to side and low, sensual moans of pure ecstasy escaped her lips as Miranda feasted on her. God, it had been so long since anyone had loved on her with this much passion and intensity. With this much true want and desire for her. 

As Amy felt the tears of overwhelming joy building up behind her eyes, Miranda's mouth and tongue found hers again. This kiss was slower, but so much deeper. Instantly, Amy felt Miranda rip open her leather vest, the buttons popping like machine gun fire as they snapped apart. Still straddling Amy's lap, Miranda shifted her body back slightly and Amy now felt Miranda's hands unfastening her belt, unbuttoning her jeans and literally ripping the button down fly apart. Again the buttons snapping free sounded like a burst of machine gun fire. Their kiss broke and Miranda slid her middle finger into Amy's mouth. Reveling in the intense erotica of Amy slurping and sucking on her finger with her warm lips and hot tongue, Miranda then slid that hand quickly down the front of Amy's body over her flat, firm stomach, down into her jeans and under the delicate, elastic waist of her panties. Amy's body stiffened and she stared deeply into Miranda's eyes. The seductive expression on Miranda's face was unforgettable and Amy's hormones were set ablaze. Amy felt Miranda's fingers slide over her shaven mound, followed quickly by the flat of her palm.

"Oooh, a baby pussy." Miranda cooed.

Amy smiled almost innocently, Miranda thought and then heard Amy suck in a deep, orgasmic breath. Amy's body jerked and bucked as Miranda's fingers found the hood of her clit and began to stimulate it. Amy was completely possessed with unbridled passion as overwhelming illicit pleasure was coursing through every inch of her body and fiber of her being. Amy kneaded Miranda's breasts through her sweatshirt as Miranda's fingers delved deeper into her aching pussy. Amy's folds were swollen, seething, soaking wet and ultra-sensitive to Miranda's gentle touch.

"God, you're so wet." Miranda hissed.

Miranda slid her other hand down into Amy's panties and slid that middle finger back and forth over Amy's pulsating slit as she continued massaging Amy's clit and teasing her swollen folds. Amy's lungs were straining with all their might to find air against the tremendous orgasmic pressure building up inside her.

"Let's get your jeans off. I wanna taste you." Miranda said as she stood up.

Miranda grabbed the waistline of Amy's jeans and jerked them down. So overwhelmed, Amy was barely able to lift her body up enough to allow Miranda to pull her jeans and her panties down to her ankles. The woman's strength and her agile movements only added to Amy's arousal and desire to her already overloaded sexual circuits. Miranda jerked off Amy's cowboy boots, paid no attention to her tube socks and then jerked the jeans and panties clear of her long and sexy legs. Dropping to her knees on the cold, tile floor, Miranda spread Amy's legs and stared longingly at the beet red, swollen and glistening sexual center of this unbelievably beautiful woman. The musty scent of Amy's arousal drifted into Miranda's nostrils.

"Wow, what a beautiful little pussy." Miranda whispered. 

Amy braced herself in place by pressing her hands flat against the metal walls of the stall. Miranda teased the tip of her tongue along the delectable flesh of Amy's inner thighs, moving slowly down to her coveted prize. Amy's body tensed, her breath caught in her throat as Miranda's mouth circle just over her aching pussy. Miranda blew soft cool air and Amy's body jerked.

"You want it, don't you?" Miranda cooed. "Well hold on baby, because here it comes."

Miranda lowered her head and mouth to Amy's swollen folds and Amy's body jerked even more violently than before and she sucked in a deep, orgasmic breath as Miranda ran the flat of her tongue slowly and firmly over Amy's puffed out lips and soaking slit. Sliding her arms under Amy's legs and draping them over her shoulders, Miranda pulled Amy down just a smidgeon, and with her arms wrapped around her muscled hips and firm thighs and took Amy's folds into her ravenous mouth. Amy's mind reeled, her eyes spun in their sockets and her arms pushed out causing the metal walls to pop and groan under the strain. Letting Amy's right legs slide gently off her shoulder, Miranda teased the hood of Amy's clit with the tip of her fingernail on her left middle finger as she pushed her tongue deeper inside her. Amy was gasping desperately for air; every muscle in her body was straining against the immense orgasmic pressure building all through her. Tears of absolute joy and ecstasy were streaming down her cheeks while her heart pounded relentlessly, filling her ears with her thundering pulse.

Amy's clit was gorging as it sprang forth from under her hood. Miranda sucked briefly on her right middle finger while she continued teasing Amy's clit between her left thumb and index finger. Miranda took Amy's clit between her lips as she gently inserted her middle finger into Amy's pulsing slit. Amy's body spasmed as ear splitting, orgasmic wails were spewing from her mouth and echoing off the bathroom walls; she pushed out with tremendous force against the walls of the stall, straining to contain the orgasm that was tearing through her body. Miranda nipped, bit and sucked on Amy's clit as she pumped her middle finger in and out of Amy's now saturated and seething hole. She could feel the inner muscles of Amy's vulva snapping at her fingers. Bracing with all her might on her left arm, Amy seized the back of Miranda's head and pushed the woman deeper into her. Miranda inserted a second finger and pumped the two fingers together harder and faster. She could feel Amy's climax coming like a tsunami approaching the beach. 




The Cop and the Killer Ch. 01



Amy's eyes bulged wider than saucers and she let go of Miranda's head, bracing both hands again against the walls of the stall as she felt her climax coming. This was unlike anything she'd ever experienced; even with Susan. Miranda slipped her fingers out of Amy's pulsating hole as Amy threw her right leg back up on Miranda's shoulder and both her legs became vice grips around Miranda's head.

"That's it! Cum! Cum for me, baby. Cum in my mouth! Cum all over my face." Miranda cooed.

Miranda drove her entire mouth into Amy's seething mound like a famished lion and dug her fingernails into the soft flesh and powerful muscle of Amy's hips. Amy's entire body shuddered violently, another ear splitting wail shot out of her mouth and her climax exploded in and all around Miranda's mouth and chin.

"Yeah! Oh yeah! Yeah, that's it baby." Miranda said with her lips and chin now coated and glistening with Amy's juices. "Oh yeah! God, you're so hot!"

Amy's wailing continued for several minutes, slowly decreasing in volume, finally turning to soft and tender moans as she gasped for air and her body relaxed. Her skin was misty with perspiration while her hair was a jumbled mess, slightly damp from sweating and laid her hand gently over her eyes and forehead. Miranda slid her finger covered with Amy's juices up to Amy's lips.

"Here, baby; taste yourself?" Miranda hissed.

Amy took Miranda's fingers in her mouth and sucked on them deeply while her eyes stared passionately and erotically at Miranda. 

"Oh God, you are one freaky girl, aren't you?" Miranda said and both women chuckled.

"Get up here." Amy commanded.

Miranda stood, slid her hands up Amy's body and under her armpits and helped her sit up, then she straddled her lap again and they kissed deeply.

"My turn now." Amy whispered.

"Thought you'd never ask." Miranda replied.

They kissed again.

"Hey, what in the name of God is going on in there!?" An angry sounding female voice demanded from outside the stall.

"Two horny bitches having hot, kinky sex! Now buzz the fuck off!" Miranda shouted back.

Fast and furious pounding came to the stall door, nearly rattling it off its hinges. 

"Open this door this instant! Disgraceful!" The woman demanded. Miranda kissed Amy's mouth.

"Hold that thought." She said as she sprang up, spun around and opened the door to find a short, stocky woman in her fifties with wide hips, stubby legs, short gray hair, tortoise-shell glasses, and a crucifix hanging around her neck. "Yes?" Miranda said with a forced smile.

"How dare you say such a thing to me?" The woman said.

"All I said was yes." Miranda replied.

"I don't mean that. Two horny bitches having sex? Disgusting! I should call the police. Now get the hell out of there, I need to use the toilet." The woman said.

"There is another stall, you know." Miranda said.

"It's out of order." The woman snapped. "Now really, what the hell are you doing in there? Drugs?" The woman asked.

"Actually, I was eating some really sweet pussy. See!" Miranda said as she wiped Amy's orgasmic residue off her chin and then licked her fingers. "Finger licking good."

"Oh, dear Lord God! I'm calling the police." The woman said aghast.

"Excuse me!" Amy called from behind Miranda. Amy slipped her arm around Miranda's waist from behind and displayed a badge. "But it was police pussy this woman was eating."

"Oh please. My six year old grandson has a badge like that." The woman replied.

Amy slipped her other arm around Miranda's waist and displayed her back-up gun, a 9 mm Beretta.

"Does your six year old grandson have one of these?" Amy asked. Miranda struggled desperately to contain her laughter and keep the smirk off her face. 

"Oh my God. Well I never..." The woman began.

"What? Ate cop pussy? You have no idea what you're missing." Miranda finished. "Good night."

The woman was quivering with shock, disgust and fury as she turned on her heels and stormed out of the bathroom. Amy rested her head on Miranda's back and the two of them burst into laughter.

"Don't they take your badge and gun away when you're on suspension?" Miranda asked.

"Every cop worth his or her salt keeps back-ups." Amy said as she slid her arms snuggly around Miranda's waist and kissed the back of her neck. "So, where were we?"

"I think we were about to say good night, I'm afraid." Miranda said.

"But ..." Amy began.

"You honestly think she's going to leave quietly? Miranda asked.

"Probably not." Amy said as Miranda squirmed around in Amy's arms, caressed her cheek and kissed her.

"I don't think I've ever been happier to have met someone in my whole life. I had a wonderful time." Miranda said, gently grazing her lips over Amy's.

"But I didn't get to make you cum." Amy said.

"Oh yes you did." Miranda told her.

"Can I see you again?" Amy asked.

"I'll see you." Miranda said as she kissed Amy once more, slipped out of her arms and out of the stall.

"Wait!" Amy called after her. She started to follow her when she realized that she was naked from the waist down. Still weak and disoriented from the tumultuous orgasm that had nearly torn her apart, Amy dressed as quickly as she could and raced out of the ladies room without even stopping at the mirror.

Miranda was nowhere in sight as Amy scanned the dark bar room. The crowd had thinned out even more and Amy saw the disgusted woman that had single-handedly destroyed the most intense and erotic sexual encounter she'd ever experienced, whispering to a man that Amy deduced to be her husband. Poor bastard.  Amy actually debated shooting the bitch, or at least arresting her for obstruction of justice, but remembered that she was still on suspension. 

Amy returned to the bar to find Erin staring at her with a shit-eating grin on her face.

"What?" Amy asked with an innocent tone in her voice.

"Feel better?" Erin asked.

"Actually, I think I was just reborn." Amy replied. 

"Well I should hope so. My God, if you could only see yourself. You're glowing." Erin said with her warm smile.

"I ought to be. Did you see where Miranda went?" Amy asked.

"She left." Erin said. 

"Damn!" Amy said.

"You got her number, didn't you?" Erin asked apprehensively.

"No. And I didn't get a chance to give her mine." Amy said solemnly.

"Oh no." Erin said as she lowered her head. "You want a drink?"

"Yeah. Make it a double." Amy said as she plopped down on the stool again.

"How about a triple? On the house." Erin said.

"God, I love you." Amy told her.



The Cop and the Killer Ch. 02



When Amy Styles eyes opened, they were surprisingly clear considering how badly her head throbbed. Her bedroom was filled with daylight and she could hear a gentle sprinkling rain tapping softly against the window panes and on the roof. Lifting her head off the deep crater imbedded in her pillow, she focused her emerald green eyes at the digital clock on the bedside table; it read 3:02 pm. For a brief second, her mind and body flooded with panic: she was late for work again! But then the runners of her memory burst through the dreary hang over fog and reminded her that she had been suspended. Rolling over on her back, Amy stared at the ceiling and rubbed her temples. It was then that she realized her arms were still covered with sleeves. Glancing down over her body, she found that she was still completely dressed, right down to her cowboy boots, in the clothes she'd worn all day yesterday and last night. Resting the back of her hand on her forehead, Amy shut her eyes and her mind swirled. She had no idea how she had gotten home. The last thing she could recall was Erin, the knockout bartender at O'Malley's, standing over her and two other figures lifting her up. She could hear Erin's voice and smell her perfume, and then nothing. Suddenly Amy's memory fired another message through the fog and it whispered one word:

Miranda.

Amy's heart skipped a beat, her breath caught in her throat and a weak smile filled her lips as images of the mysterious and gorgeous brunette who had captivated her mind and had left her body in a pile of spent sexual putty on O'Malley's bathroom floor flooded into her mind. Amy swung herself out of bed and let her legs drop to the floor. Her boots clicked on the hardwood. Though she felt physically weak and drained, the standard morning ache of her body was far less brutal than she had anticipated. Instead, she felt her body tingling from top to bottom and the only thing that was truly aching, other than her head, was her pussy. The little girl had gotten herself one hell of a long overdue workout. Amy sat motionless for a moment and let herself stabilize; her stomach was queasy, as per usual, and the room spun. Still, Amy had to admit that she didn't feel near as bad as she should considering how much she'd drank. Perhaps after the release of so many dormant sexual hormones and the orgasm that tore through her like a category five hurricane, her body was somewhat empowered to fend off the effects of heavy alcohol consumption. Perhaps great sex was the answer to her drinking problem. Still, she felt like hammered whale shit and once she teetered into the bathroom and surveyed the external in the mirror, she looked like it too.

Amy stripped out of her clothes and sat down for her morning call of nature, which was somewhat difficult considering her memory was now bombarding her with sizzling hot recollections of her passionate sexual ravaging at the hands of mysterious Miranda. Amy's body was flooding with a wave of lustful heat and she eyed the shower stall with an intense, wanting stare. Suddenly her mind turned into an episode of Deadliest Catch and the awful realization washed over her like the pounding, frigid waves of the Bering Sea; Miranda had vanished almost as mystically as she had appeared and left Amy no way of contacting her. As her body instantly went cold, Amy felt her heart plunge like a muddy cinder block into the pit of her stomach and she half expected to hear it splash into the toilet bowl as it fell out of her body. Before she even truly realized it, Amy's throat tightened like a vice grip and tears were streaming down her cheeks. Amy had had countless one night stands with more women than she cared to admit in her lifetime, but had never been left feeling so lost and broken like this. The only time she had felt this much despair and hopelessness was when Susan had left her. Amy's bladder instantly opened like a valve on Hoover Dam and she pissed like a race horse while she cried like a baby.

Amy finished her call to nature then stuck her head under the shower, dousing her scraggly long auburn hair. The icy cold water helped to clear her head but did little to help her understand why she was so distraught. Amy half-ass dried her hair with a damp towel and slipped on the robe that hung behind the bathroom door. The robe was light silk, dark purple in color and fell several inches above her knee; a long ago birthday gift from Susan. Amy shuffled slowly to the kitchen, dragging her suddenly very heavy bare feet across the floor. Amy opened the fridge and took out two of the three contents inside - a gallon of orange juice and a half full bottle of Absolut Mandarin; the third content was a bottle of Absolut Citron. Taking a plastic Seattle Seahawks tumbler from the top of the towering stack of rank dishes in the sink, Amy filled it a third with orange juice and the rest with the orange flavored vodka. Fuck it, she thought to herself and guzzled it down in a few gulps. 

Amy's body spasmed and she lurched reflexively forward, dropping the tumbler and she seized the edge of the counter, driving her fingernails deep into the finish. Hacking and gagging on double spent phlegm and straining every responsive muscle with all her might against her body's objection, Amy clinched her watering eyes closed and clamped her mouth tightly shut as she battled to keep her breakfast of champions down. Her body shuddered violently and chills raced up her spine. Finally, it passed and Amy exhaled a deep, vomit flavored breath.

"Jesus Christ!" She muttered.

Amy shook her head and eased herself back up into an erect position, cautiously releasing her grip on the counter. Steadying herself now, she exhaled again and took a slug directly from the bottle of Mandarin. Amy cringed slightly as the vodka rushed down her raw throat. She rubbed her hand over her eyes, taking quick and shallow breaths. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? She wondered. I got suspended yesterday. Wait, let's get real okay? I got fucking fired! The next natural step was to get shitfaced drunk, which I did. Now that has passed and here I am the day after. Now I've got to figure out what to do with the rest of my fucking life. Oh, who the fuck cares? Amy swallowed more vodka and cringed as it went down. Shuffling now toward the kitchen table which was cluttered with empty pizza boxes, half eaten cartons of Chinese takeout, empty beer cans, liquor bottles, soda cans, newspapers, magazines, unopened mail and numerous pieces of other garbage, Amy looked beyond it and gazed out the bay window into her next door neighbor's backyard. Two small children, a little boy of about two and a little girl of four or five, were chasing a gray Scottish terrier around the lush green yard. A weak smile filled Amy's lips and tears welled in her eyes. Amy adored children and had always wanted at least six or seven of her own. She wanted a family; a real family. A family like the Bradford's from the 70s TV series Eight is Enough. Fuck the Brady Bunch though. At least a family like the Bradford's was plausible and could handle a lesbian mother and stepmother. The Brady's were fucking aliens who would probably have her burned at the stake. Amy stared aimlessly at the children and the dog for what seemed like days and her heart ached the entire time. Her musing was suddenly interrupted by the doorbell. Amy set the bottle down and trudged begrudgingly to the front door.

The view out Amy's front door and off her tiny square front porch was one that most people would kill for; especially those who were fans of Frasier. Amy's one story, two bedroom, 1300 square foot house sat on a hill, probably not two full miles from the downtown skyline and just a hair over a mile from Seattle Center where the Space Needle and several other popular tourist attractions of the emerald city were located. She had bought the house thirteen years ago and for the first four years, would start her day seated on her small front porch with a cup of coffee and a cigarette. Since she'd quit smoking nine years ago, Amy now sat on the inside window sill of the front bay window in the mornings to drink her coffee. As Amy swung the front door open, she was nearly shocked out of her skin as forty-eight breathtaking, long-stemmed roses: twelve red, twelve yellow, twelve white and twelve pink, arranged beautifully in an enormous crystal vase, where staring Amy in the glazed and dazed face. The arrangement was so large that Amy could only see the tips of the deliveryman's fingers clutching the sides of the vase and he seemed to be struggling under the weight. Amy gasped, slapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes bulged as she beheld the gorgeous flowers.

"Ms. Amy Styles?" A shaky male voice strained from behind the flowers.

"Uh-huh." Amy replied, her voice muffled by her hand.

"I'm Kevin from Emerald City Florist. These are for you." He said, thrusting the arrangement toward her.

"For me?" She asked.

Amy dropped her hand from over her mouth to her chest and patted it just above her thundering heart as she stared in bewilderment with watery eyes. 

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, straining.

"Who in the world would be sending me flowers?" Amy mumbled loud enough for Kevin to hear.

"I don't know, ma'am. I just deliver them. Could you help me with these before I drop them, please?" Kevin asked desperately.

Amy took the enormous vase in her hands and lifted it with ease out of Kevin's faltering grip. She ran her eyes over them in child-like wonder and her nose was instinctively sniffing the immaculate blooms. Her smile grew.

"Thank you." Kevin said, seemingly impressed by the woman's strength. "I need to get your signature of receipt."

Amy swung the immense floral arrangement to the side and ran a passing glance over Kevin as she stepped over to the coffee table just to the right of the foyer in the living room. Kevin was in his late teens to twenty at the most and he was at least three inches shorter than her with extremely wiry limbs and a rail thin body. His hair was black and thinning, gawky complexion and he wore copper rimmed glasses that were two sizes too big for his narrow face. Amy used her foot to shove a couple of empty pizza boxes and a few empty beer cans off the coffee table and set the vase down in the center. Brushing her hand gently over the magnificent blooms with a most innocent and humble smile, Kevin quietly noted, Amy's hand bumped the greeting card protruding out from the gorgeous floras; her name was scrolled in elegant, handwritten cursive on the bright green envelope. Not the usual business card size, but a hallmark greeting card. Amy was completely overwhelmed, her eyes were watery, her cheeks were flush and moist, her lips were trembling and her whole body was shaking; Kevin noted these observations quietly and with a soft smile as he scanned the invoices on his clipboard. He saw these kinds of reactions almost daily with hundreds of other women and it always made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. He liked his job. 

"Deliver to Ms. Amy Styles; 1457 Fifth Avenue North - Seattle, Washington." Kevin read off. "That's you, correct?"

"Uh-huh." Amy stammered.

"Sign here please." Kevin said, holding his clipboard and pen toward her.

Amy's hands were trembling as she took the clipboard and scratched out her signature. Her stomach was fluttering with what felt like a thousand butterflies as her heart thumped. She had a sinking suspicion as to who the flowers might be from, but she was almost afraid to let her mind dwell on it. Amy was so preoccupied and anxious that she practically threw the clipboard and pen back at Kevin as her hands furiously tore open the envelope of the card and yanked it free. It was a musical card that resembled a classic wedding invitation, pure white with emerald green calligraphy that read simply: "For you." Amy's excitement was seething and swelling just below her skin, her veins were pulsing and she was on the verge of jumping up and down as she opened the card and the soothing voice of Marvin Gaye singing his hit song Sexual Healing played. The calligraphy inside the card read "From me" and just below, written in the same cursive hand as on the envelope:

Your Turn!

(206) 390-2278

Miranda 

Amy squealed under her breath like a high school nerd who'd just been asked to the senior prom by the captain of the football team. She pranced and danced around the small foyer as Kevin stared dumbfounded at her.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Ms. Styles?" He asked.

Amy stopped suddenly and stared at him, panting like a marathon runner. Kevin smiled coyly and dropped his eyes toward his hand.

"Oh! Oh! A tip!" Amy snapped as she patted at the pockets of her skimpy robe. "Oh! Oh! Oh shit! Honey, I know you probably hear excuses like this a lot, but I just got fired yesterday and I don't have any cash on me."

"I understand. Well, you have a nice evening." He said and turned to go.

Amy glanced quickly over herself and then back at Kevin.

"Wait!" He turned back to face her. "Are you gay or straight?" Amy asked matter of factly.

"Pardon me?" Kevin stammered.

"Are you gay or straight?" Amy repeated.

"I'm straight." Kevin said, as a slight smirk came across his lips.

"Great!" Amy chirped as she took a couple of steps backward into the house, untied the belt of her robe and jerked it open, flashing him her lean naked body.

Kevin's jaw dropped practically to his chest and his face flushed beet red. His eyeballs nearly slipped out of their sockets.

"Cash may be King, but a fine naked ass is definitely Queen." She said as she turned her back to him and let the robe slide down her arms and off, bearing her bare back and bottom. She lifted and stretched out her leg and caught the edge of the door with her toes. Amy slowly ran her hand over her shaven pussy, slipped her index and middle finger into her slit and spread her folds slowly. The last thing she heard as she pushed the front door shut in Kevin's face was him sucking in a deep gasp and the clipboard and pen hitting the floor. The front door slammed in his face and Kevin promptly joined his clipboard and pen on the floor of the porch when he fainted.

Amy sprinted to her bedroom with the card in hand, her heart pounding relentlessly. For a brief instant, she couldn't believe what she had just done – flaunting her body at that kid like a stripper on stage. She was a mature woman and a police officer for God's sake. But she was too exhilarated right now to even care. He had brought her such a wonderful gift and she wanted him to feel at least half the exuberance and stimulation she felt. And Amy hadn't been this excited or hopeful in years and over such a brief acquaintance nonetheless; but she was too exuberant to even care about that right now. Miranda had done something to her. Amy didn't know what exactly and it was certainly more than just having eaten her pussy. The thought came in a word and Amy shoved it from her mind. But still it came and Amy's heart pounded even harder. Her body tingled and felt very warm. But it wasn't just lustful heat. This warmth was coming from some place deeper within her. It wasn't of her flesh; it was of her soul. The thought came again in that word and again, Amy wouldn't let herself think it. But it was so hard not to. Amy raced through her bedroom door and snatched up her cell phone. She was still completely naked.

***

Miranda Wagner's lips filled with her gorgeous smile and her face radiated a glow of absolute joy. Miranda's respiration rocketed, her stomach fluttered and somersaulted, her heart leapt into her throat and her pulse raced when she felt her recently purchased cell phone begin to vibrate in the pocket of her snug fitting jeans. She knew exactly who it was and her hand trembled with excitement, along with the rest of her body as she reached for her phone. She was walking on air through the gloomy and cool Seattle afternoon.

There was nothing more she had wanted to do last night than to stay with Amy; the woman had clearly done something to her. Captured her in a way Miranda had never truly known before; everything about the woman lassoed Miranda's mind, captivated her heart and touched her soul. Detective-Sergeant Amy Styles! The most beautiful cop in the world, Miranda thought, with that silky, long auburn hair, that lean and slender, perfectly curved body, that beautiful and alluring face, those big and firm breasts, those strong and sensual hands, that delicious mouth, those sweet and luscious lips. Not to mention her delectably succulent, tight little pussy; and those eyes!! Those big, warm, inviting, gorgeous emerald eyes! 

As Miranda floated through the streets of Seattle after their passionate rendezvous in the ladies room, a fierce battle between hard reality and longing romance raged in her mind. This couldn't happen right now. She was in no position whatsoever to start a serious relationship. She had no job, no real place to live yet, no car and there were no guarantees that she was totally free and clear of her previous life and profession. Her employers were the best of the best in the world at what they did. They wouldn't have recruited her otherwise. And Amy was a police officer. Despite the fact that she was on suspension, a cop was a cop. You could take the cop off the job, but you could never take the job out of the cop. Amy was a brave, intelligent and honorable peace officer who took her job of protecting the innocent and serving the cause of liberty and justice to her deepest heart and soul. That would be apparent to anyone. Just from their brief acquaintance, Miranda knew that the phrase "Seattle's finest" was modeled after Detective Amy Styles. Regardless of what her bosses and the rat squad said, Amy was a good cop. The citizens of Seattle should be honored to have a courageous and noble woman like Amy on their police force and sleep all the more peacefully because of it. 

So why does she have to be so damn beautiful? Miranda wondered. And why does she have to be such a deep and passionate lover? Even though I've barely sampled the honey, the woman is clearly a sex goddess. And those eyes! Those warm, compassionate and inviting eyes! Miranda was torturing herself now. Sex was one thing, but love was another. Miranda couldn't believe that word was even coming into her mind. But it was. If Amy's eyes said anything at all, they told Miranda that she could and would love her with all her heart, mind, body and soul for as long as they both shall live. Miranda had felt her throat tighten, her heart race and her stomach spasm while her eyes had welled with gentle tears. After her slow, floating walk back to her room at the Extended Stay America, Miranda had drifted off into the most peaceful and restful night sleep she'd had in over twelve years with the beautiful Seattle detective starring in her dreams.

Miranda woke early, feeling more rested and refreshed than she ever had in her thirty-nine years of life. She showered, dressed then ate breakfast at the nearest IHOP, scanning the classifieds in the morning paper while she sipped her coffee and munched on some lightly buttered toast. She would have much preferred a venti cinnamon dolce latte' and a fresh, moist oatmeal muffin from Starbucks, but she had to exercise vigilant discipline and change her routine. Her plan was to acquire a cheap and sensible used car, find a low profile job and her own apartment. She had a mere sixty-five hundred dollars in cash and wanted to simply blend in to the Seattle populous and prayed that she would eventually fade into obscurity and live out her life peacefully and semi- normally. Disregarded and eventually forgotten by the powers that be. Extravagance was to be avoided like the plague and she had no problem with that. And at the moment she even considered her usual morning Starbucks leaning too much on the side of extravagance. Having been born and raised on the streets of West Chicago, the daughter of a German descended factory worker and an Irish descended school teacher, extravagance was not something she was accustomed to anyway. The nearest she'd ever come to it was at her grandfather's pub and based upon the general rule of thumb, O'Malley's Irish Pub was modest at best. Miranda had certainly had tremendous exposure to overwhelming extravagance through her work, but that in itself had tainted it severely. In her mind, extravagance seemed to be the root of all evil in the world, because the reality was that at the heart of extravagance was money and money was indeed the root of all evil. So its absence in her life from now on was perhaps a small price she'd have to pay for her horrendous and heinous sins.




The Cop and the Killer Ch. 02



But now there was a problem. Despite her carefully conceived plan whose only chance of success depended crucially on her remaining utterly insignificant, invisible and isolated, Miranda had inadvertently stumbled onto the most uniquely significant and wonderfully extravagant commodity she'd ever encountered: Amy Styles. Miranda had of course planned to and counted on having casual sexual relations with women she found appealing. It was perfectly normal for any healthy adult. It was a natural human need. What she hadn't planned for and counted on was meeting a woman like Amy. Somebody like her comes along only once, if you're lucky. Though she'd only known the woman less than twenty-four hours, Miranda knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that Amy was very special. Her entire career, and hence her very life, had been sustained on how well she could read and interpret people. Of course that was ultimately for the purpose of taking their life. Joining your life with another and sharing it equally with theirs for as long as you both shall live was another matter entirely. Love, marriage and family were indeed extravagant commodities and Miranda knew she couldn't afford them. At least, not now. But still, Amy Styles was here now. And Miranda didn't want her to go away. As insane as it sounded even to her innermost self, Miranda had already fallen madly in love with the woman and was confident that Amy had, or was at least, falling in love with her. And love would conquer all. 

Miranda paid for her breakfast, leaving a very generous tip and then walked down the street to the nearest Starbucks. She got herself a venti Cinnamon Dolce Latte' and a big, moist, oatmeal muffin. She sat out on the covered patio while she ate her muffin and sipped her latte'. It was then that she spotted the shop just across the street. She made her decision regarding Amy. Miranda finished her muffin, tossed the wrapper in the trash can, picked up her latte' and headed across the street toward Emerald City Florist.

***

Miranda slipped her buzzing phone out of her pocket, flipped it open and raised it to her ear. Strolling casually along an ascending sidewalk, Miranda wore faded blue jeans that fit snuggly and accentuated her beautiful long legs, alluring hips and slim waist. She wore a long sleeve, red blouse that clung tightly to her slender torso under a simple denim jacket with a pair of baize cowboy boots on her feet. The cowgirl from Dallas had gotten her hooks into the beauty from Chicago already.

"Oh, please let this be the most beautiful cop on the Seattle police force." Miranda said into the phone.

Amy was still completely naked as she sat on the side of her bed with the phone to her ear. Her hand patting her chest directly over her pounding heart.

"Formerly anyway." Amy said in a shaky voice with her body trembling. "You don't know how glad I am to hear your voice. I was afraid I'd never hear it again."

"Take it you got a delivery." Miranda said.

"Nobody has ever sent me flowers before." Amy told her humbly.

"Now that should be a crime punishable by death." Miranda replied.

"They're beautiful, Miranda. I've never seen flowers so beautiful before." Amy said.

"Yes you have. They just didn't come from me." Miranda said.

"That's what makes them so beautiful." Amy told her. "There from you."

Miranda felt her throat tighten and her heart skip a beat. 

"How'd you know where to find me? You left so suddenly last night that we never had a chance to exchange contact info." Amy said.

Miranda was already prepared for this question and had spent the past few hours deciding how to respond.

"I have my ways." Miranda told her.

"Oh really?" Amy asked with a smile. "Well, if those ways of finding complete strangers in a city as large Seattle are only a quarter as good as how you pleasure a woman sexually then I'm about to become the luckiest woman alive."

"First of all, you're not a complete stranger. Secondly, you can't become the luckiest woman alive because I already became her when I met you." Miranda replied.

Amy's emerald eyes glistened with welling tears and she patted her chest over her heart again.

"Seriously now, how did you find me?" Amy asked in a cracking voice.

"For the past twelve years I've been a field operative for a highly clandestine agency whose prime directive is the preservation and protection of democracy and freedom at all costs. Our field of expertise is best known by conspiracy theorist as black operations, or black ops. We gather intensive background research, acquisition targets around the globe, pinpoint their precise locations, intricate surveillance, deep undercover infiltration and permanent elimination of any and all threats, human or otherwise, to the principles of democracy, freedom, liberty and of course, national security. I was the best they had. But, I recently retired." Miranda said.

"Fascinating." Amy replied with an amused tone.

"So you see, for me to find the most beautiful woman in Seattle was a piece of cake." Miranda said.

"I should think so. All you have to do is look in the mirror." Amy told her.

"Be careful. You keep talking like that and you might just make me fall hopelessly in love with you." Miranda said.

"That would be fine. As long as you don't mind me falling hopelessly in love with you." Amy said.

"That's kind of my plan." Miranda said.

"And since the foundation of any long term relationship is honesty and trust, would you now please tell me how you really found me?" Amy said, firmly but with a still very pleasant tone.

Miranda sighed deeply as she continued down the sidewalk with the phone to her ear. If only Amy knew that the story she had just heard was indeed the truth.

"I got your address from Erin; the bartender at O'Malley's." Miranda lied. "And I told her that she was never to make that known to you or else I'd come back and slit her throat. So don't ever broach it with her, okay?"

"Okay." Amy said with a chuckle. "God, I'm so happy you called. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

"Actually you called me." Miranda laughed.

"True." Amy replied.

"And I haven't been able to get you off my mind either." Miranda replied. "I told you I'd see you. So when can I?" 

"Whenever you want." Amy told her.

"How about right now?" Miranda asked. "I could be there in less than ten minutes."

Amy's naked body flooded with carnal heat and desire. She wanted Miranda all over her right now and even touched herself. She was soaking wet, the scent of her arousal drifted into her nostrils and a large wet stain had materialized on the sheet where she was sitting. Amy's eyes then shot around her dilapidated bedroom and she was suddenly on her feet, hustling back out into her living room. She could feel her sex trickling down her thighs. She surveyed the virtual landfill the room had become, as well as the dining room and kitchen.

"Could you give me a couple of hours? I'm not exactly in a position at the moment to receive guests." Amy told her.

"Are you naked?" Miranda asked slyly.

"As a matter of fact, I am." Amy told her.

"Then I'll be right over." Miranda replied.

"Oh, as much as I'd love it, I really don't want you seeing me or my place in this condition. Why don't you pick me up at six or so? We could go out to dinner." Amy suggested.

"Dinner? You're what I want for dinner. And dessert too." Miranda said.

"I know. But I haven't had a woman take me out for a romantic dinner in a long time." Amy almost hissed. "You can still have me for dessert though. And breakfast too."

"I'd love to. Where would you like to go?" Miranda asked.

"Well, since you're fairly new to Seattle and since it's already starting to clear up, I can think of only one place. Sky City Restaurant." Amy said.

Having been so deeply engrossed in her erotic conversation with Amy, Miranda hadn't even notice that the sky was clearing and the sun was now shining.

"Sky City, you say? Would that be the slow revolving restaurant at the top of the Space Needle?" Miranda asked.

"It would." Amy replied. "One of the most sought after, romantic restaurants in the world." 

"I'll pick you up at six." Miranda said. "Oh, I hope you don't mind driving. I'm kind of between cars at the moment." 

"Actually, I'd much prefer walking. It's only about a mile and a half from my place." Amy told her.

"See you at six." Miranda said.

"I can't wait." Amy said and she put the phone down.

Amy dashed back to her bedroom and threw on a pair of gray sweat pants and a T-shirt. She glanced at the digital clock on her bedside table as she pulled her hair back in a ponytail. It read 3:21pm. Amy pulled on some socks, jammed her feet into a pair of old sneakers and set to work cleaning her house.

By 5:45pm, the house was cleaner than the day she bought it and smelled of fresh cinnamon potpourri, lemon pledge and carpet deodorizer. Amy took the final garbage bag out to the street and tossed it on the pile of the previous twelve she'd filled in the last two and a half hours. And while the house was now spotless, Amy was grimy and sticky from head to toe. She returned all the cleaning supplies to their place under the kitchen sink and slid the vacuum cleaner back into the hall closet. Giving the house a quick final survey, Amy sniffed her armpit and nearly vomited. Now it was her turn to get clean before her date arrived. My date! Amy thought and her heart skipped at beat. Amy jotted a quick post-it note, informing Miranda to just come on in and make herself at home. Amy stuck the note on the front door and started undressing as she headed for her bedroom and the shower.

Miranda fell in love with Amy's house the moment she saw it. It was just the right size, shape, color and location for a young couple, she thought. The front bay windows were just the right touch. Miranda ascended the front porch steps and then paused briefly on the tiny porch to ogle the picturesque view of downtown Seattle and Seattle Center. The evening had turned crystal clear and cool. A breeze carrying the smell of the sea whipped through her hair. Miranda found Amy's post-it note on the door, smiled seductively and slipped into the house, locking the door behind her. Scanning the living room, Miranda's love for Amy's house only deepened. The living room emanated an aura of cabin-in-the-woods quaint and coziness; the hardwood floors were recently polished, a large Oriental rug lay centered beneath the antique coffee table. The sofa and loveseat where a match set made of old English leather and the rustic hearth and fireplace were constructed out of pure Pennsylvania limestone.

"Amy?" Miranda called out. No response.

Sliding off her jacket, Miranda draped it over the arm of the sofa and then stepped through the colonial style archway into the dining area; scanning the room, her heart leapt at the sight of the antique china cabinet against the far wall just beyond the round, mahogany dining table and matching chairs. Another bay window looked out over the driveway and into the neighbor's backyard beyond. Miranda glanced into the quaint little kitchen and inhaled deeply. The house smelled so clean and fresh. Miranda continued through the dining room and into the hallway. She scanned the first room off the hall which was set up as Amy's home office. It stunned Miranda to see how neat and tidy it was. If only she'd seen it two hours ago. Miranda continued up the hall past the guest bathroom and entered the master bedroom. 

The king size bed, made up to military specs was against the far wall and yet another bay window looked out into the small backyard. It was then that Miranda heard the water running in the shower and her glanced followed the sound to the right and found the bathroom door ajar with a light cloud of steam drifting out. Miranda heard Amy humming a sweet tune and a smile filled her lips. The woman sounded so happy. Miranda stuck her head through the doorjamb and her gaze instantly bore in on the fogged up shower stall door. The silhouette of Amy's gorgeous and glistening body was visible through the cloud of steam. Miranda's body tingled with electrifying carnal desire as she watched Amy lathering and washing her beautiful body slowly and sensually. Feeling her aching pussy saturate and her hardening nipples spear into the lace of her bra, Miranda undressed quickly and then slipped her naked body silently through the door, stealth fully approaching the shower stall. Amy continued her harmonious humming and even sang a few chorus as Miranda moved toward her. Miranda opened the shower door and let her eyes voraciously devour Amy's soaking wet, lathered up, glistening naked body.

"Why Officer Styles..." Miranda said. "Surely you of all people should know that it's illegal to be that fucking beautiful and sexy in the state of Washington."

Amy turned slowly to face her with a beaming smile on her lips and a delighted sparkle in those emerald eyes. Her hair was soaking wet and it clung to her glistening wet body.

"Well, then I guess you're gonna have to arrest me then. Of course, that would certainly be the pot calling the kettle black." Amy said.

"Up against the wall then. Spread'em." Miranda ordered.

Miranda could feel Amy's lustful stare tearing through her body like a volley of bullets. It set her ablaze with passion. Amy turned slowly back toward the tile wall with that intoxicating stare not leaving Miranda until the last possible second. Amy placed her hands on the wall and spread her legs apart. 

"You better frisk me before you try and cuff me." Amy purred.

"My pleasure." Miranda replied.

Miranda stepped up and slid her arms around Amy's lean torso, pushing her body firmly up against the woman's back. The warm water doused Miranda's body as she melted into Amy's. She wanted to almost climb inside the woman's body. Sliding her hands slowly up the front of Amy's body, Miranda reveled in the softness and the glossy wetness of her skin. Finding her perfectly round and pert breasts, Miranda sensually kneaded them as she felt her own pushing deep into Amy's back. The sensation was the most erotic of her life. Amy's eyes rolled with ecstasy and she lowered her head as a soft and tender moan escaped her lips. Miranda pushed and grinded her mound firmly against Amy's platinum ass. Amy's nipples were fully erect and as hard as pebbles when Miranda's fingers found them and began teasing them. Amy gasped softly as Miranda pinched them between her thumbs and index fingers; Amy leaned back, melding her body deeper into Miranda's and let her head fall to rest on the woman's shoulder. 

"You know, I think I might have to confiscate these. Could be considered as deadly weapons." Miranda whispered softly in Amy's ear.

"Not as deadly as this though." Amy whispered back as she turned her head slightly and covered Miranda's mouth with her own.

Miranda's embrace around Amy's body tightened as their kiss deepened; the feel of Miranda's warm and lean body melting into hers engulfed Amy with a sense of being loved and desired in a way she'd never had before. Miranda's sensuality and her overwhelmingly powerful physique excited Amy deeply. Amy's arm went up and around Miranda's head; her hand coming to rest on the back of it and her fingers gripping Miranda's now soaking wet, silky hair. As their tongues entwined, their mouths sealed tightly around each other and they could taste each other's soul. Amy slowly squirmed around in Miranda's embrace, sliding her arms down and around the woman's sleek and sexy body; their breasts rubbed firmly up against each other. As the steam engulfed their seething and glistening bodies, their hands explored each other; their fingernails gently grazed the wet and lathered flesh. Finally coming up for some desperately needed air, the two women stared deeply into each other's eyes. Miranda gently caressed Amy's cheek with her finger tip.

"So beautiful." She whispered.

"What have you done to me, Miranda?" Amy whispered back.

"The same thing you've done to me." Miranda replied.

Their mouths found each other again and they entwined in a passionate, engulfing embrace. Their kiss was deep, slow and sensual; a kiss of love. Miranda slid slowly out of Amy's mouth, pushing her gently up against the wall as she glazed her lips and tongue down Amy's chin and then feasted on her neck. Miranda continued her descent down Amy's body and sucked her protruding right nipple into her mouth. Nipping the rock hard, fleshy nub gently between her teeth as she molded the breast with her long fingers, Miranda felt Amy's body stiffen and her respiration sky rocket. Grazing the tip of her tongue across Amy's heaving chest, Miranda could feel Amy's heart pounding; she took the left nipple into her mouth as she gently pinched and twisted the right. Miranda sunk to her knees as she continued grazing her tongue and lips down Amy's delicious body with the tips of her fingernails sliding sensually down behind; the aroma of Amy's intense arousal was already drifting into her nostrils.

Miranda suddenly let out a slight gasp; her fingers had crossed a very coarse and hard stint of flesh just a couple of inches below Amy's left breast. The scar was about two and a half inches in length along the side of Amy's torso.

Amy glanced down and observed Miranda studying the scar and gently stroking it with her finger.

"Oh my God! Baby, what happened?" Miranda asked softly.

Hearing Miranda calling her baby stabbed Amy in her deepest soul and she felt her already weakened legs buckle. And when Miranda glanced up at her, the depth of compassion, genuine concern and love in those gorgeous sapphire eyes melted what was left of Amy's heart. She wanted to hold Miranda in her arms for the rest of her life. Though she could hardly believe it, Amy knew that this woman was the one she'd been searching for all her life. The woman she thought she'd found in Susan. With her emerald greens captured in Miranda's sapphire blues, Dr. Susan McConnell was finally laid to rest in eternal peace within Amy's heart, mind and soul. 

"Oh, I got stabbed breaking up a bar fight about thirteen years ago." Amy told her. 

"This doesn't hurt you, does it?" Miranda asked.

"Oh, it can still give me a twinge from time to time." Amy told her.

Miranda kissed the scar so compassionately and gently that Amy's eyes nearly collapsed under the heavy veil of tears welling behind them.

"There. All better." Miranda said in such an innocent tone that Amy's heart stopped. Their sensual gazes remained locked. With her eyes moistening and her smile beaming, Amy stroked Miranda's hair, sliding it gently behind her ear.

"Are you okay?" Miranda asked. "You look like you're about to cry."

"I just never dreamed I could be so happy again." Amy told her.

"Me either." Miranda smiled. "You want me to make you happier?" She smiled lustfully.

"No." Amy said as she forcefully pulled Miranda to her feet and slid her arms around her waist. "As I recall, it's my turn to make you happier."

They fell into a deep kiss again. Amy slid her arms down Miranda's back, over her scrumptious bottom and lifted the woman off the floor. Their kiss broke and Miranda reflexively wrapped her legs around Amy's body. Their eyes locked in an intense, lustful stare. Miranda's body instantly turned to putty as she felt the extent of Amy's physical power all around her. It excited her deeply. She could feel the flexing, bulging muscles carrying her with ease. They exited the shower and Miranda wantonly caressed Amy's face, neck and shoulders as she carried her into the bedroom. And Miranda truly did feel swept off her feet. She felt like a true lady; completely safe, protected and treasured in the arms of her powerful lover. Though Amy was physically shorter, Miranda felt smaller and fairer. Amy emanated the spirit and character of a warrior and Miranda would happily submit to her dominance and strength. Deep in her heart and soul, Miranda had always wanted that kind of lover; a woman that would engulf her in a powerful, protective embrace and Miranda would feel completely sheltered from anything and everything the world might throw at her. Amy Styles was now that lover. Miranda knew that she was completely safe in Amy's arms. 




The Cop and the Killer Ch. 02



Amy tossed Miranda onto her bed and crawled seductively up on top of her on all fours like a lioness stalking her prey. Their bodies were drenched, glistening in the fading daylight. Amy hovered over Miranda on her hands and knees and Miranda stared up longingly into those gorgeous emerald eyes. The inviting warmth in them, though now a bit obscured by carnal desire, spoke to her in volumes. Miranda knew that Amy would probably give her life in an instant for her. The warrior spirit within the beautiful cop would treasure, guard and protect Miranda to the last. Miranda's eyes welled with tears, making her captivating sapphire eyes glisten. The carnal desire instantly faded from Amy and her face filled with compassion and concern. The inviting warmth and love in those sparkling emerald eyes poured out like faucets now.

"Baby, what's the matter? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Amy asked.

Miranda smiled and touched Amy's cheek. "You think it's too early for me to tell you that I'm in love with you?"

Amy smiled warmly and kissed Miranda gently on the lips. "Not at all. Because you see, I fell in love with you the instant I first saw you." 

Miranda's body began to tremble and a single tear slid down her cheek; Amy caught it with the tip of her finger.

"Your turn." Amy whispered and covered Miranda's mouth with her own.

Amy lowered her body down on top of Miranda as her tongue delved into the deepest reaches of the woman's warm and luscious mouth. Miranda's fingernails scratched softly up and down Amy's muscled back and Amy soon slid down Miranda's body, feasting on the scrumptious wet flesh of her neck and chest. Amy took Miranda's throbbing pink nipple into her mouth and sucked it like a nursing infant. Miranda's body writhed, her tender moans echoed off the walls and her head rolled gently from side to side as Amy's mouth moved back and forth between her erect and wanton nipples. Amy continued her descent down Miranda's heavenly body. The sensation of Amy's rock hard nipples grazing down her stomach was tantalizing, sending incredibly erotic and illicit chills up her spine. Amy's lips and tongue covered every inch of her quivering abdomen; she could already scent Miranda's arousal drifting up from below. Amy ran a hand through her soaking wet hair and stared up Miranda's body, her gaze instantly seized by those gorgeous blue sapphires.

"God, you taste so good." Amy purred.

"And it only gets better, my love." Miranda cooed back.

Amy smiled and continued sliding down toward her prize. Miranda spread her legs to accommodate Amy's body; Amy rose up onto her knees and lifted Miranda's long and sexy leg. Taking her by the foot, Amy hungrily sucked on each of Miranda's adorable toes as if they were tiny cocks and then ran her tongue slowly down Miranda's foot, along her calf, down around her knee and finally to her inner thigh as the leg slowly lowered to the mattress. Miranda rose up on her elbows and watched Amy sink down on her stomach between her legs and slowly tease the tip of her tongue around the pulsing slit and quivering, puffy folds. Stroking the beautiful, completely shaven and smooth vulva of her lover gently, Amy exhaled a burst of cool air and an orgasmic gasp escaped Miranda's mouth as her body jerked with seething anticipation. Amy wetted her middle and index finger in Miranda's lubrication and slowly inserted them, spreading the glistening pink lips. 

"And you thought I had a beautiful little pussy." Amy said. 

Amy exhaled again and the sacred flesh of Miranda's inner core quivered as it was flooded with a gentle burst of cool air. Miranda's body jerked, a deep moan bellowed from her lips as she cupped her breasts in her hands; her eyes spun and her head fell back. Amy slid her fingers slowly in further. Miranda's pussy was incredibly tight. Amy felt Miranda's inner muscles clamp down on her fingers as her warm juices saturated them. Miranda was lying flat on her back now, teasing and squeezing her breasts and nipples. Her head rolled slowly from side to side as Amy began to slowly pump her fingers in her lover's tight honey pot.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh Yes! Oh Baby! Oh God baby, I love you so much! YEAH! YEAH!" Miranda wailed as Amy intensified her pumping action.

Amy began twisting her hand as she pumped her fingers in and out, increasing her speed and intensity. The scent of Miranda's sexual essence was intoxicating, the squishing and popping of her pussy only filled Amy with more desire. Miranda's body writhed, her back arched and her head rolled. Amy could feel the pressure building inside the woman, watching her beautiful muscles convulse and constrict. Amy clamped her mouth tightly over Miranda's gorging clit and battered it relentlessly with her tongue as she continued pumping her fingers in and out of the woman's body. Never had she tasted such sweet and delectable nectar. Miranda's orgasmic wails turned to piercing screams as Amy's mouth carnivorously feasted on her. Amy felt her own pussy saturating, draining like a dripping faucet on to the bed. Miranda seized fistfuls of the sheets as her body tumbled and twitched wildly about; the unbridled orgasmic pressure coursing through every fiber of her being was immense. Her chest heaved as her lungs strained and ached for air. Suddenly, Miranda fell silent as she sucked in a deep breath that she did not release. Her mouth was wide open, her eyes spun and every muscle in her body locked. Amy felt Miranda's pussy spasm; her inner muscles clamped down on her fingers and then in an instant, a tremendous inner pop and a drenching, orgasmic tidal wave exploded out of Miranda's pulsating pussy. It splattered all over Amy's hand, her forearm and face. Miranda's body shuddered violently as she finally exhaled an orgasmic scream that reverberated off the walls and rattled the window panes. 

Amy's face glistened with Miranda's nectar as she slid slowly up beside the woman's twitching body. Amy surrounded her with her warm body, snuggled her in her protective arms and kissed her gently about the face and neck as her orgasm passed. Miranda's eyes shut as she draped an arm over her face; her gasping breaths and wailing moans of ecstasy began to ease as Amy held her close. Finally, Miranda rolled her body into Amy and the two lovers held each other close, gazing deep into the other's soul. They caressed and stroked one another and kissed softly. Soon the intense passion slid between them once more and Amy rolled her body on top of Miranda and captured her luscious mouth. Miranda foraged the tips of her fingernails teasingly along the skin of Amy's back. The kiss broke and the lovers stared longingly at each other.

"I don't deserve you, Amy Styles." Miranda whispered.

"No more than I deserve you, Miranda Wagner." Amy replied. "So I guess that makes us a perfect couple."

"So we're a couple now?" Miranda asked.

"Why not? You want to try getting rid of me?" Amy replied.

"Never. You're a part of me now. More than anyone else ever has been or ever will be." Miranda told her.

"And you're a part of me now too." Amy said. 

They fell into the throes of a deep kiss again; their damp, naked bodies melting into one another as the passion of a lovers kiss engulfed them.

"So now what?" Miranda asked.

"Now you're gonna take me to dinner." Amy said.

"Oh, so only you get an appetizer, huh?" Miranda said playfully.

"But you get first dibs on dessert." Amy replied and kissed Miranda's mouth.

"Seattle's most beautiful cop with whip cream and a cherry on top?" Miranda said.

"Whatever turns you on my love." Amy replied with a seductive grin.

*  *  *

Half an hour later, the two women stepped out on to Amy's front porch in the cool of the starlit evening. As Amy locked the front door, Miranda stood behind her and held a black suede jacket that Amy gracefully slipped into. Amy wore a tight-fitting dark purple, long sleeve turtle neck that wonderfully accentuated her lean, slender torso and full breasts. She also wore snug black jeans that did equal wonders for her sexy legs and fleshy hips with a large black belt around her trim waist and high heeled, black boots on her feet. Amy zipped up the jacket, stuck her house keys in her pocket and looked up just in time to get a kiss on the lips and feel Miranda's hand slip into hers with the sensuality only one lover could give to another. Amy's heart skipped several beats and her breath caught in her throat: It had been so long since she'd had anyone to hold hands with. With glowing smiles and thundering hearts, Amy and Miranda descended the front porch steps hand in hand; Amy rested her head on Miranda's shoulder and they strode together down the front walkway to the sidewalk and on down the hill. 

As they moved along the sidewalks of the Emerald City, Miranda again listened to the laughter and happiness of the people around her. Feeling Amy's head on her shoulder, the aroma of shampoo and conditioner drifting into her nostrils, Miranda squeezed the woman's hand tighter. Though they received a few bizarre glances from other pedestrians, Miranda hardly paid them any mind. Just twenty-four hours ago she had walked along these very streets, feeling completely alienated and isolated from the rest of society. She had heard their laughter and watched them enjoy their lives and their loves, all the while wondering if they truly understood the sacrifices others made to provide them with those gifts. Now here she was, laughing and enjoying her life for the first time in years and was holding the hand of the woman she loved and breathing in her fresh scent. She, and Amy too, were now a part of the world that they both had sacrificed so much to protect and nourish. 

Miranda released Amy's hand, slipped her arm around her shoulders and rested her head against Amy's. Amy immediately reciprocated by sliding an arm around Miranda's body and taking hold of her sensual hand on her shoulder with the other. As they approached a street crossing, an elderly couple stood waiting at the tour bus stop. They stared in disgusted askance at the "queer couple" approaching them. Amy and Miranda kept their focus forward but listened to the "old geezers" crumble about the indecency, immorality and their lack of respect for others by their public display of homosexual affection.

"I don't think they like what they see." Amy whispered as they passed by.

"Well in that case, they're gonna hate this." Miranda replied as she gently took Amy by the chin, turned her head toward her and kissed her deeply as they walked.

The old woman gasped with blatant disgust and crumbled even louder to her husband something that Amy and Miranda hardly heard or even cared about. Their kiss broke as they burst into laughter.

The Sky City Restaurant at the top of the Space Needle was bustling as Miranda and Amy stepped off the elevator. Told that it might be as long as thirty minutes before they could be seated, Amy slipped her badge out of her jacket pocket and within two minutes they were seated at a prime table along the grand observation windows that overlooked the city. The lights of Seattle and the surrounding area twinkled like the stars, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The sky to the west was a soft glowing purple, guarded by the dark silhouette of the Olympic Mountains. The moon was full and rising over the summit of Mount Rainer; the snow covering her majestic peak glistened in a faint shade of blue. The Bainbridge and Bremerton ferries were just balls of bright white light as they cruised steadily back and forth across Puget Sound. 

Taking seats across the small table from each other, Miranda ordered a glass of Chablis while Amy opted for an iced tea. They shared an ordered of Washington Dungeness crab cakes for an appetizer and giggled at the irony of their earlier discussion of appetizers. Miranda had a Caesar Salad while Amy sampled the Baby Spinach Salad. Miranda fell hopelessly in love with the Cedar Wrapped Klamath River King Salmon which was herb marinated wild salmon served with foraged mushrooms, wild rice pancakes, pinot noir beurre rouge and micro herbs. Amy chose the Seafood Trio which consisted of grilled salmon with wild mushrooms ragout, Bering Sea scallops with Washington apple slaw, Gulf prawns with beurre rouge that was served with seasonal vegetables and roasted heirloom potatoes. They also shared a side dish of grilled asparagus. 

Though there was much to say and far much more to know, the two women barely spoke and spent most of the idle time between the meal courses just holding hands across the table and staring deeply at each other as the spindle top restaurant made its gradual 47 minute revolution. Each woman privately wondered what she had done so wonderfully right in her previous life to deserve the beautiful creature that was sitting across the table from her. There would be time for words later; right now they were perfectly content to just stare into the eyes of emerald green and sapphire blue.

Miranda paid in cash. If Amy was curious as to why Miranda had no credit or debit cards, she hid it well. They took the stairs up to the Observation Deck, snuggled up together as they sat outside on a bench and sipped on cappuccinos, every so often nuzzling noses and kissing softly. The wind off the mountains and off the Sound was blustery and they were both soon chilled to the bone. They rode down the glass elevator, kissing and necking all the way and making the young woman operating the elevator very uncomfortable. She was very cute. They wrapped their arms around each other as they exited the elevator, Amy resting her head on Miranda's shoulder once again. The night had turned very cold but neither woman noticed. The warmth each felt deep inside over who was just now holding her tightly shielded them from the biting chill in the air and wind. 

"Did you see the look on that poor girl's face in the elevator?" Amy giggled as they strode along the sidewalk.

"I think she would have probably been more comfortable having the Seattle Al-Qaida cell in there with her instead of us. God, she was so tense." Miranda replied. 

"Can you imagine what would've happened if the elevator had gotten stuck?" Amy laughed. "And we would've been trapped in there all night."

"It wouldn't have altered my plans any. I still would've wanted and taken my dessert." Miranda said and kissed Amy's mouth. 

"You think she would've been into it?" Amy asked slyly.

"Into what?" Miranda asked, already knowing the answer but wanted to hear Amy say it.

"The sexual awakening of her life. A naïve, young innocent beauty trapped in an elevator with two gorgeous, mature , sexy ladies and having them sexually ravage her to a level of illicit pleasure she's never known before." Amy hissed.

"Why you dirty little minx!" Miranda shouted playfully. "That girl was probably no more than seventeen."

"Oh come on! You can't honestly tell me that it didn't cross your mind." Amy shot back.

"Did I say that it didn't?" Miranda replied.

"So it did cross your mind! And you call me a minx? You dirty old woman." Amy joshed.

" She was a looker, I'll give you that." Miranda said.

"That girl could sexually slay the entire roster of the Seahawks with just that ass all by itself." Amy replied.

"Uh-huh. And that little pussy is probably so sweet it would leave granules of sugar stuck on your lips and between your teeth." Miranda offered.

"Okay, I think we need to walk a little faster now." Amy said. 

"Fuck that, let's run!" Miranda snapped.

"But I'm in heels." Amy said.

"And whose fault is that?" Miranda laughed.

"YOU FUCKING CUNT!!" A raging male voice tore through the air followed by the crashing slam of a car door. Amy and Miranda stopped dead in their tracks and scanned quickly around.

"No! Please don't hit me! Please!" A terrified sounding female voice screamed.

"Where the hell is it coming from?" Amy asked.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The enraged male voice came again followed by a bloodcurdling scream of a woman.

"Look! Over there!" Miranda said, pointing into a small and deserted parking lot just off to their left.

The small parking lot ran narrowly alongside a three story office building and was dimly lit. A white, Ford Taurus station wagon was parked along the perimeter chain-link fence opposite from the building. There was a large, thick man standing just outside the driver side door with his back to the street and he appeared to have a much smaller woman pinned against the car and was beating her savagely. The woman's screams were bloodcurdling initially but were now becoming muffled and weak as the man pummeled her mercilessly. He was roaring and raging like a wild animal.

"You fucking bitch! You useless, motherfucking cunt! You worthless, cock-sucking, miserable whore!" He raged at the top of his lungs. The woman's body was crumpling as he pounded her.

"Call 9-1-1 right now!" Amy commanded Miranda.

"Amy, wait! Let me..." Miranda shouted, but Amy was already racing across the parking lot at full speed, rage shooting out her emerald eyes like bolts of lightning. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a standard police issue .38 caliber revolver. Miranda snatched her cell phone from her pocket and dialed.

The man threw one final punch into the woman's face and she slumped to the ground with her face hideously battered, bruised, bloody and swollen. She was just barely alive. The man took a step back, swung his enormous leg back and prepared to deliver a fatal kick to her head.

"Police Officer! Freeze! Get your hands up where I can see them!" Amy shouted authoritatively, still running up fast.

He moved so quickly that all Amy saw was a blur. Instantly, the gun was smacked out of her hand and the man's enormous hand was around her throat, choking the life out of her.

"Ain't so tough without your gun, are you bitch?" He growled. "Maybe next time you'll mind your own fucking business. Oh wait! There ain't gonna be no next time for you, cunt!" He squeezed her throat tighter. 

"Think again, asshole!" Amy managed to squeak out. 

Grabbing his wrist with her right hand and applying as much pressure as she could near the center vein with her middle and index finger, his grip faltered as a sudden numbness invaded his hand. Amy was able to seize his thumb on her neck with her left hand and jerk it violently backwards. She could taste the remnants of her Seafood Trio in her throat as the bone in his thumb snapped. The man screeched like a wounded hyena and instantly, her neck was free. Maintaining her grip on his wrist, Amy smashed a judo kick violently into his soggy gut. Toppling forward after the impact, Amy jerked him toward her by his arm and slammed her knee into his face, breaking his nose and busting his lip. The sudden violent impact to his face caused his eyes to flood with tears, temporarily blinding him. Still holding tight to his wrist, Amy wrenched his arm nearly out of its socket as she winched his faltering bulk around, drove her foot hard and deep into his kidney and forced him face down to the asphalt with a hard smack. Spreading his legs apart with her foot as he lie in a dilapidated pile on his stomach, groaning almost piteously, Amy delivered a final kick just beneath his balls as she suddenly produced a pair of handcuffs from her jacket pocket. With the skill and speed of the seasoned cop she is, Amy snapped on the cuffs in just a couple of quick flicks of her hands. Miranda approached calmly, clapping her hands. Amy quickly patted the man down and stood to greet Miranda's applause with a smile. 

"Do you always carry handcuffs on a date?" Miranda asked.

"Just like American Express; I don't leave home without them." Amy replied.

"You do have more of them, don't you?" Miranda asked, eying her seductively. "After all, the night is still young."