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To Serve and Protect

By: patricia51



Detective Pat Gibson signed the case report she was writing and closed up her clipboard. Stretching, she turned off the interior light, put on her seatbelt and started her unmarked patrol car. She shifted it into drive and pulled out of the parking lot and back on the road. Glancing at the clock she saw it was right at 10 PM and decided she could deliver the report in the morning at court. She would go straight home now. Almost absently she picked up her radio mike and called she was back in service.

She had no sooner started home when the radio announced an armed robbery had been committed on the other side of the county. Pat activated the concealed blue lights and pressed hard on the accelerator. Before she had traveled even halfway the dispatcher announced two units were on scene and had apprehended the suspects. Pat continued on. As the detective on call she needed to arrive as soon after the crime as possible.

Her cell phone buzzed. Smiling, she slowed down and answered. "Yes Honey?" she asked.

Her husband chuckled. "Just wanted to let you know I heard that call on the scanner. I have the morning shift so I'm going to bed."

"Kiss the girls for me," answered Pat, referring to her 12 and 14 year old stepdaughters. "If this takes all night I'll try to meet you for breakfast at Jason's Restaurant."

"Okay Pat, love you."

"Me too Mike." Pat pushed the end button on her cell only to hear it buzz again.

"Gibson" she said.

"Pat, it's Jamie Saddler."

"Yes, Captain?" Pat answered to her boss, the head of the detective division.

"Pat I was at the station when this happened. I have the suspects here and have started the paperwork. Normally I'd just you tell to scoot for home but one of the witnesses is an English woman, a tourist visiting here. She's somewhat shook up and I would like you to talk to her. Take her statement, reassure her and get her back to her hotel. I realize its not really part of your duties but would you?" 

"Of course I will Captain. " Pat reflected, how nice of him, he could have simply ordered her to do this. Instead he made it seem like she was doing him a favor. "Be there is five minutes."

The minute she entered the station Pat realized why she had been reluctant to come by earlier. In her haste to get out of the house and on the call she had ended up with a mismatched outfit. Her badge, normally in a holder for her belt, had been put on a uniform shirt for court appearance, so she had grabbed that shirt and put in on. She had pulled on her jeans and then laced up her ankle length work boots. Only then had she discovered the jeans she had put on were not the loose comfortable ones she normally wore but the one size too small ones she wore when they went out dancing. Refusing to take her boots back off she had managed to zip them up while holding her breath. She had then thrown on her shoulder holster with her 9mm Browning Hi-Power sidearm covered by a black leather jacket. The whistles she received from two drunks sitting in the reception room of the station confirmed her opinion that she probably looked liked a butch streetwalker. 

The officer on radio watch buzzed the door open for her and waved. She swung down the hall and approached Captain Saddler.

"Hi Pat" the captain said as he handed her a statement sheet. "The lady has filled out her statement. Just need to get it signed and then you can get her back to her hotel. I appreciate you doing this. Oh, and she won't have to stay and testify. She's in room 3," He indicated with a motion of his hand.

Pat took the form and walked into the room. She smiled automatically at the blonde woman in the chair. As the woman turned around Pat suddenly caught her breath and leaned against the door jamb to steady herself. "Joyce!" she thought wildly.

Everyone in the department, everyone she knew here as a matter of fact, knew that she had moved to this side of the state after the collapse of her last relationship. What nobody was aware of was that relationship had been with another woman.

(Four Years Ago)

Pat stood staring in complete disbelief. She had managed to get off duty early from the police department she was working for. Stopping on the way home to buy flowers she had hoped to surprise her girlfriend Joyce at the small house they rented outside the city limits. And she had surprised Joyce indeed. She knew things had been not going well but the sight of the voluptuous red head in bed with Joyce; in THEIR bed; had confirmed her worst fears.

Joyce had shrugged unapologetically. Taller than Pat's 5'5" by four inches she was a tall cool blonde, completely the opposite of the darker haired and complexioned Pat.

"What did you expect? You're working all the time. You come home and go to sleep. I got bored. Besides, Jo in there is a lot more feminine than you are anyway."

That was obviously the end of that. Before forty eight hours had passed Pat had resigned her job, settled her bills and packed to leave. As she did, Joyce delivered the final shot.

"You think you're leaving me. But that will never really happen. I am the best thing that ever happened to you and no one else will ever measure up to me. One day you'll be back."

Pat had moved to the other side of the state and took a job with the local sheriff's department. Since she was already certified her training period, under then Sergeant Mike Gibson had been brief. She had enjoyed working with him both as her training officer and as her supervisor. She had learned he was a widower and had two daughters, 8 and 10. Meeting them at a department picnic she had fallen in love with them both and become their big sister, spending time at their house on an almost daily basis. Slowly she had found herself falling in love with Mike too. Two years ago when she was promoted to detective and he to Lieutenant they had married.

Pat had been happy. She had a wonderful husband and two step-daughters, who still considered her a loving but firm big sister. But Pat was never able to get over the feeling that this was all temporary, that Joyce was right and one day she would find herself leaving to return to her ex-lover. The only way Pat let it show was in their discussion of children. She had always wanted to be a mother and Mike was more than willing also. But Pat could not make herself take that final hurdle that would acknowledge the past was gone forever.

(The Present)

Pat shook herself and stepped in the office. The woman inside looked up and smiled. Pat realized that apart from the blonde hair this woman looked nothing like Joyce. she was in her early 30's, about 5' 6" and slender. Even in slacks and a simple blouse she looked almost elegant. But the major difference was the smile. This woman's was warm and friendly, a contrast to Joyce, who Pat suddenly realized had always looked like she was smiling from a sense of superiority.

"Hello Ms..., "Pat looked at the report "Clarke. I'm Detective Pat Gibson. If you would be kind enough to look over your statement and sign it, if it is correct, I can get you out of here. And I will be happy to take you back to your hotel and stay with you until you feel comfortable being alone."

"Thank you Detective Gibson. Please call me Liz." said the woman in a charming English accent. "I'm quite alright now no need for you to trouble yourself." Liz took the statement, read it and signed it.

"And I'm Pat," the other woman answered. Noticing that the fingers holding the pen still shook very slightly Pat added, "And it is no trouble at all. Captain Saddler tells me that due to the other evidence available you will not need to stay here and testify. So I can't have you leaving this part of the South thinking that this is what its all like. Give me the chance to demonstrate a little courtesy too."

"Thank you Pat, " Liz smiled. She handed back the statement and stood. "I certainly am ready for that."

Pat escorted Liz out of the station, pausing only to drop the statement off. She opened the passenger door to her car and closed it after Liz was seated. Jumping in the driver's door she called Dispatch with her destination and headed for Liz's hotel. On the way she had a sudden idea.

"Liz, would you perhaps like a glass of wine when we get to your hotel? I know you've had quite a day and I have too. There's a store up ahead that has a nice selection. Its just a thought but one glass would help you relax and maybe sleep easier."

"That would be lovely Pat," her new friend answered. "How about a dry white? I'm sure they have something at the hotel mini-bar, but those prices!"

Pat stopped at the upscale grocery store and purchased a bottle of a nice wine. Only a few more minutes passed and they arrived at Liz' hotel. After carefully locking the car Pat escorted Liz up to her room.

"Pat, if you don't mind, I desperately need to take a shower. Please make yourself comfortable and pour us the wine. There should be glasses and a corkscrew somewhere around the bar." Liz laughed. "I don't think they charge for their use."

Pat turned and searched. Not immediately finding anything but the glasses she absently took off her jacket and laid it on the dresser. She shrugged out of her shoulder holster, putting it with her sidearm and cuffs on top of the jacket. She sat in a chair and decided to remove her boots and socks. She wiggled her toes in the carpet. After all, Liz had said to make herself at home. Returning to the area of the bar she found the corkscrew. She realized the water had gone on in the shower. She heard a light humming from the bathroom from Liz. Pat swallowed suddenly as she realized that the shower door was only half closed. Was this some type of an invitation? An invitation that she realized she was hoping for. She hesitated, trying to maintain control of her voice.

"Liz?" Pat almost cursed listening to her voice waver. "Are you ready for a glass of wine?"

"Three minutes love," The English girl answered. "I'm almost done."

Pat poured the wine, concentrating carefully on her hands. She put the bottle on the sideboard and turned with the glasses in her hand as Liz exited the shower. She almost dropped the glasses. Liz was in a white robe. Obviously she had very little if anything on under it. Noticing the American girl seemed flustered Liz looked down at her dress, or lack of it.

"Oh my, Pat. Am I embarrassing you? I can change."

"No, no Liz," Pat almost cursed again. She sounded so eager! And she suspected she was blushing.

Liz took her glass from Pat, raised it and smiled, "Cheers."

"Cheers," Pat answered. She took a sip, then a longer almost gulp of the wine. She looked to see that Liz had just taken a small sip only. "Oh great," Pat thought. "I really am coming across as a country bumpkin here."

Liz took Pat's free hand and seated them both on the side of the bed. She crossed her legs and Pat's eyes were drawn to them. the robe had fallen almost completely away from Liz's legs, displaying them to Pat's gaze to within a couple of inches of their junction. Liz took one more sip of wine placed her glass on the nightstand and took Pat's hand with those now free fingers. Liz's other hand rested on the bed almost right behind Pat. Pat felt she could almost feel it against her back. She certainly felt the warmth of Liz's fingers intertwined with hers.

"Pat," Liz spoke softly, "Thank you for coming here tonight. I feel very safe now. There is only one more thing I would like to ask of you."

"Yes Liz?" replied Pat.

Looking deep in the American woman's eye, the blonde British woman simply asked, "Will you kiss me?"

For one stunned instant Pat could not react. Her eyes locked with Liz's. She saw there something she had not seen in a woman's eyes since long before Joyce. She saw caring and a soft passion that spoke to her in ways she had forgotten.

"Yes," breathed Pat, barely above a whisper. And then her lips met Liz's.

The kiss was soft, their lips just beginning to caress each others. Pat felt Liz catch her lower lip and suck it so gently, stretching it. The tip of Pat's tongue slipped from between her parted lips and began to explore Liz's mouth, which opened just enough to admit the other woman. Their tongues began to stroke each others, tasting and enjoying what they found. With a slight moan Pat opened her mouth more to Liz until their kiss deepened into a passionate embrace.

Pat's hands slipped around Liz, holding her and rubbing up and down the back of the bathrobe. At the same time Pat felt Liz's fingers begin to undo the buttons on her uniform shirt. Pat trembled and her hands moved to Liz's shoulders. As Liz undid the final button and pushed Pat's shirt back Pat's hands slipped under the bathrobe to tighten on Liz's shoulders. Liz let her hands continue, reaching around Pat to unhook her bra. Pat managed to take her hands off Liz just long enough to let both shirt and bra fall free. She gasped suddenly as Liz kissed her again and touched both her breasts. Immediately her nipples stiffened and her kiss became demanding while her hands reached to untie Liz's robe.  As Pat undid the tie on Liz's robe she felt the other woman's fingers cup her breasts and begin to lightly tap on her already hard nipples. In one sudden burst Pat opened the robe and pushed it back off Liz's shoulders. With that Liz stood, helping Pat to her feet and her robe falling at her feet, revealing she wore only high cut white lace panties. Liz kissed Pat again and again her hands falling to unfasten Pat's belt and jeans. Liz tried and failed to ease the too tight jeans down over Pat's hips. 

Stepping back just a bit, Liz looked Pat deeply in the eyes and smiled. Kissing Pat once more Liz slipped to her knees in a move that was so incredibly graceful it took Pat's breath away. From that position Liz eased Pat's jeans down to her ankles and helped her step out of them. Liz smiled again to see that under her practical clothing Pat was wearing black satin panties. Liz leaned forward and planted one long soft kiss in the middle of those panties. Pat drew a deep breath, knowing that her panties were already wet in that very spot.

Liz began to suck Pat's moisture through her panties. Her hands moved back up Pat's legs. Liz's fingernails lightly stroked up the back of Pat's legs as she delicately chewed Pat's increasing soaked satin. The nails slid in the creases where Pat's thighs met her round firm bottom then continues up over the cheeks. Liz's thumbs caught the elastic top of Pat's panties and began to draw them down. Pat shivered repeatedly as Liz's nails just barely scratched the smooth skin of her ass cheeks. Then Pat's panties where down and Liz doubled her efforts. Her hands climbed up Pat's stomach and returned to squeezing the other woman's breasts. Pat moaned and spread her legs as Liz's tongue began to stroke her wet folds and then slipped into her slit.

Pat tangled her hands in the English woman's blonde hair and closed her eyes in sheer delight. Liz's fingers were repeatedly stroking Pat's nipples, rolling them in small circles and gently pinching them at the top of each circle. Liz's tongue lapped up and down Pat's open slit. Each pass she dipped deeper and deeper into Pat's now soaking wet pussy. Every now and then Liz stopped and sucked Pat's swollen lips into her mouth. Pat began to arch her back, trying to push herself closer to Liz.

Realizing Pat's arousal Liz slid her tongue deep into Pat and began to move her head rapidly. At the same time her fingers tightened on Pat's nipples. With great care Liz began to pinch them in a rhythm matching her tongue as it stabbed into Pat. Faster and faster Liz continues her licking and pinching. Sensing from Pat's shaking the exact moment Liz found Pat's erect clitoris and seized it in her lips. As she sucked it her fingers locked on Pat's nipples, pulling them and Pat's orgasm rushed over her like a massive wave. Shaking and shuddering Pat moaned "Liz...oh Liz" over and over as her juices coated Liz's face.

When Pat had regained herself somewhat she lifted Liz to her feet and kissed her.

"Oh Liz, that was so wonderful in ways I can't even tell you. Now I want to give you the same pleasure you just gave me."

Liz smiled and touched Pat's face. "This in itself was pleasure enough for me. I wanted you the moment I saw you in the station. I know that this is a single night for both of us." Liz actually blushed before continuing. "There is something you could do...a fantasy you could fulfill for me." Without waiting for an answer Liz moved to Pat's jacket and fumbled for a moment. She seemed to hesitate and Pat saw the deep flush spread to Liz's neck.

"Liz, what is it?" Now it was Pat's turn to be soft voiced and concerned. "Whatever it is, its alright."

Liz turned around. In one hand were Pat's handcuffs. "I've always wanted someone to use something like this. But I was always afraid they would misunderstand and think that I was into pain or bondage. I just want to allow myself to be completely given to someone I know I can trust. I think that is you Pat. Please?"

Pat took the cuffs. She weighed them for a moment then kissed Liz. Almost giggling Liz stretched out on the bed. Pat knelt beside Liz and carefully locked one cuff around Liz's left wrist as loosely as possible. She leaned over to loop the cuffs through the headboard. As she did Liz lifted her head and licked Pat's breast almost capturing her nipple.

"So, that's the way its going to be huh?" Laughed Pat. She reached back and caught Liz's other hand. Lifting it over Liz's head to meet the other cuff and closed it. "Now my pretty." Pat pretended to scowl fiercely, "You are mine!"

Pat drug her tongue down Liz's arm. She paused at Liz's smooth shaven armpit and she began to kiss it. She moved from there over the shoulder and began to kiss Liz' neck. Pat moved up to one ear, licking the porch of the ear and tugging the earlobe with her teeth. At the same time Pat's hands slid up and down Liz's sides. As Pat kissed the hollow of Liz's throat her hands began to rub Liz's flat taunt stomach. Pat heard Liz suck her breath in suddenly and felt the muscles bunch under her fingers.

Drifting down for Liz's throat Pat kissed the beginning of Liz's chest. Her hands stroked upwards, her fingers reaching the bottom curve of Liz's breasts. Pat felt more than heard Liz gasp as the fingers and lips of the woman on top of her met on her hard erect nipples. For the first time Liz pulled and strained against the cuffs as Pat's warm mouth engulfed her left breast. At the same time Pat began to stroke Liz's other nipple, tapping it with her thumb and caressing the smooth full breast with her fingers.

Pat had settled her body over Liz. Using her elbows and knees to support her Pat held herself up far enough so only the pink tips of her breasts touched Liz. Pat let Liz's breast escape from her mouth bit by bit till her lips only held the rubbery nipple. The motions of her lips and fingers caused Pat's breasts to wobble around slightly, dragging her nipples over Liz's stomach and then the beginning of her mound. All the touches caused another low moan from Liz, echoed by one from Pat.

Pat moved again. She slowly shifted herself lower, following her tongue between Liz's breasts, then down to her stomach. She tongued Liz's navel while her hands moved to hold Liz's hips and her body slipped between her legs. Pat then trailed kisses down over Liz's mound till finally her lips led her to Liz's wet swollen lips. Droplets of nectar were caught in the fine blonde hair of Liz's pussy. Pat sucked all she could find into her mouth and kissed the soft insides of Liz's thighs. She slid under Liz's legs, leaving the thighs resting on her own shoulders and her hands cupping and lifting Liz's ass.

With her own passion building to an incredible level Pat began to lick her British lover wet slick slit. She rubbed her face into the lovely pussy, trying to reach as deep as she could inside her. Her tongue curled inside as her lips sucked and chewed on the outer lips. Liz locked her ankles and held Pat's head between her thighs lifting herself to the other woman's mouth. Greedily Pat followed the trail of Liz's sweet juices, following them down till they reached her wrinkled hole. One touch with her tongue to Liz's ass and Liz began to roll her head back and forth. 


To Serve and Protect



Captain Linda Shannon stared out the window of her new office at the Jackson County Sheriff's Headquarters, where she was now the new Commander of the Narcotics and Alcohol Enforcement Division. 

Tears rolling softly down her cheeks as she clasped in her hand a yellowing photo of her son and daughter. 

Just than Carol Gibson's cheerful voice fill the air, "Hi, Aunt Linda, I need you to sign something for me.” She slid the document across Linda's desk

Linda wiped her eyes and tried to hide the photo before turning to look over the application on her desk. "Are you sure this is what you want?" Asked Linda, her bright green eyes scanning the application for the Academy. "Being a law enforcement officer requires great dedication."

"Aunt Linda, Stephanie is going to medical school. I have always admired Dad, Mom and you for what you all do." Carol explained. "I know I have something to offer the Department." 

Linda looked into Carol's eyes as she spoke, than affixed her signature to the form. "I'm sure you will be a credit to this department Carol."

"Aunt Linda are you alright? You look like you've been crying."

"Everything is fine, just these allergies are making my eyes water." replied Linda in her soft soprano voice.

Linda watched as the lovely young woman left her office. Her thoughts racing back to the first time she had met the precious young girl in pigtails.



That day Linda had become the first woman to complete the Jackson County Sheriff's SWAT training program. Her final trial was the infamous Hogan's alley. A handsome young Mike Gibson she had befriended during her training had just set the course record at 3 minutes and 14 seconds.

"Hey Linda, spot you three seconds and if you beat that I'll buy you dinner." shouted Mike in mock torment.

Just what I need thought Linda, pulling the slide back on her Browning Hi-Power 9MM sidearm, more pressure. "You're on." She shouted back.

Mike watched in awe as Linda began her walk down the alley, targets falling at an alarming rate. Than Linda called out. "Clear." signaling she was done.

"I think you got him." said Lieutenant Saddler, the commanding officer of the Swat team.

Than came the announcement. "Detective Linda Shannon has tied the course record with Corporal Mike Gibson.

Linda smirked as she walked back, crossing her eyes and sticking her tongue out at Mike. "7 PM Friday and don't be late." She said with a smile.

Friday at precisely 7 PM Mike knocked on Linda's door. His mouth dropped when she answered the door. There stood Linda in a black cocktail dress her long shapely legs accented by the 4 inch heels she wore. Her dark hair and dress offset by the single strand of white pearls around her neck. Mike just turned as she glided passed him. As she reached the end of the walkway Linda turned to Mike and asked. "You are taking me to dinner aren't you?"

Mike finally found words. "YEAH."

After a wonderful dinner and some dancing. Mike asked Linda if she would mind if he checked on his daughters before he took her home. Linda smiled warmly. "Can I get a cup of tea there?"

Mike checked the girls’ room and went into the kitchen to make Linda her tea and a coffee for himself. Sitting in the living room Linda heard noises upstairs. Mike returning not finding Linda there went upstairs as he peeked into the girls' room to find Linda sitting in Lori's (his wife who had recently died of cancer) rocking chair reading Carol's favorite bedtime story to them. A position even after their breakup he would find her sleeping in when she would sit for the 7 and 5 years old girls while he worked second or third out.

Finally satisfied that the girls were asleep Linda quietly picked up her heels and tiptoed towards the door. "Thank you that was very nice of you Linda." Said Mike.



Linda stretched up on her toes to softly kiss Mike, her heart racing as their lips met. She felt his gentle caresses as he responded lifting her gently cradling her in his strong arms before laying her back on his bed.

The next few hours were heaven for them both. Linda had just gone through a terrible divorce. Mike's soft touch and gentle caresses soon had her lost deeply in a long deep passionate kiss. Linda tore at Mike's shirt and pants finally undressing each other. As Mike penetrated her warm moist depths, Linda wrapped her shapely legs around his waist locking her ankles behind him pulling him deeper into her.

Linda began to tighten her muscles as Mike slowly and gently started a rhythm inside her moist depths. Their moans of passion stiffened by hot passionate kisses. 

Mike slowly built Linda to a fever pitch she spasmed and rocked under him, feeling his thick hard member as it drove in and out her setting off a series of orgasms deep within her.

As her body recovered Linda gently rolled over on top of Mike, her velvety soft tongue gently trailing down his hard muscular chest finally to slip the head of his penis between her hungrily lips.

Linda tasted her own sweet self on his penis, mixing with the salty taste of the droplets of precum dripping from Mike's penis. Suddenly he let out a massive moan, as Linda pressed him deeply into her mouth and throat feeling the thick semen hitting the back of her throat Linda swallowed and gently tongued his member till his orgasm and jerking subsided.



Linda's thoughts returned to the present. She was expecting Pat Gibson soon. Her intercom buzzed "Sgt. Gibson is here to see you Captain."

"Send her in please, Thomas." Replied Captain Shannon

Pat Gibson entered the Office, her eyes scanning the room. "So this is how the other half lives. The two giggled like schoolgirls before Linda hugged and kissed Pat on the cheek.

"Please sit down, Pat. Can I get you anything?" 

Pat shook her head. "What's up boss? You didn't call me from the Academy just to ask me to tea."

Linda smiled softly "No Pat I didn't call you for that. How would you like to work for me again?"

"Linda I can't go undercover now. I just had the babies."

Linda held up her hand. “Still have that temper I see. I know you just had Bob and Danny. I'm their godmother, besides I want you commanding the Strike Force is that clear Lieutenant Gibson?"

"What?" Exclaimed Pat.

"Here, see for yourself." Answered Linda, passing her a copy of the latest promotion list.

Pat's eyes widened with surprise as she carefully scrutinized the list. Her name was at the very top. "Oh my god, Linda, does Mike know? I mean." Suddenly she threw her arms around her dearest friend.

"No, I though I would let you tell him about it." Linda answered in a bubbly voice. "Besides I Know he's been busy now that He is the Commander of Tactical Division."

"Pat, one word of advice before I sign these transfer papers." Linda paused for a moment to find just the right words.

The expression on both their faces changed from the carefree spirited conversation of a moment ago to those of officers talking of a serious matter.

"If you think I'm doing you a favor, forget it. Being the Commander of the Narcotics Strike Force isn't easy. First and foremost take care of Sue and the other officers under you. Remember they are very good at what they do you know that, Second be careful, there are going to be a lot of temptations out there. You’re going to be offered lots of money to look the other way." Advised Linda.

"I won't let you down Captain and certainly not my Officers." replied Pat in an official tone.

"I know I can depend on you, I knew that from the first time we met. Now get out of here and tell Mike." Said Linda. "See you Monday." She handed Pat her set of the official transfer papers.

Linda watched with a smile as Pat scurried off to find her husband and daughters to tell them the news.

Linda remembered fondly how Pat had handled her first undercover assignment. A smile brightened her face as she remembered the sight of Terry Roberts flying through the air before crashing through a wooden table in the warehouse she had followed Pat and Maria to. Pat's quick thinking had given Linda the chance to disarm and render useless Terry's huge bodyguard.

Linda fondly remembered decorating Pat for bravery at the Academy graduation exercises.

Pat found her husband talking with Detective Sue Adams. Sue, under Linda's careful training had become the department’s best undercover narcotics officer with a growing arrest record that was beginning to rival that of her lover and mentor Linda Shannon.

Both were ecstatic at the news of Pat's promotion and new assignment as Commander of the Narcotics Strike Force.

"Pat, Carol has asked to see us all together for lunch today." said Mike. "So I guess we should just meet in the cafeteria."

The group of officers soon met with Carol.



"Ok, Carol what did you want to see us about?" Asked her father.

Carol looked from her mother and father to Sue Adams, "I saw Linda today. She looked like she had been crying. She tried to hide a picture. I think it was of some kids."

"Linda has been acting a little strange lately." Agreed Sue. "To say the least."

Mike Gibson took a deep breath. "Well I guess this was going to happen someday. The picture is of Linda's children."

"Linda has children?" asked a startled Pat. "She's never said anything about having children."

"Linda was married to Joe Shannon, a bank loan manager. He never liked the idea of Linda being a cop and when she started deep undercover work he divorced her." Explained Mike.

"But Dad that couldn't have stopped Linda from seeing them." Said Carol. "Linda would have found someway."

"Bill argued that her work was too dangerous. Given the fact that a drug ring had placed a $100,000 bounty on Linda's head the courts agreed."

"And Linda would never do anything to hurt them." Added Pat. "That would have killed her if anything would have happened to them."

"Ok, we all agree on that, but what can we do?" Asked Sue.

Captain Mike Gibson looked at his wife, "Hon is Josh Williams still with intelligence?"

Pat nodded." I'll talk to him and see if he can find out where the Shannon’s live now."

A few days later Mike had the address of Miriam Shannon and her younger brother Joe. Sue had supplied the transcripts of the divorce hearings and a full copy of Linda's service record.



"I hope this will help you Captain Gibson." Said the senior-grade detective.

"Oh, I'm sure it will. Pat and I will have a talk with them and try to explain things to them." Answered Mike.



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

That night Linda spent another restless night. Sue curled up behind her hugging her preventing Linda from tossing and turning as had now become her custom to do.

"Linda, honey please tell me what's bothering you?" Whispered Sue her voice betraying her tears of concern for her beloved Linda.

Linda turned towards Sue snuggling into her warm arms. "Oh, god honey, I'm sorry I know I haven't been very attentive to your needs."

Sue brushed Linda's dark hair from her eyes as Linda's soft lips covered her's in a gentle intimate kiss. "I know this hasn't been easy for you Sue, but it's just that once I kind of made a deal with the devil, I have to work this out for myself." Linda explained.

Sue responded by kissing her lover deeply, Linda gently rolled Sue on her back as the two women kissed with growing passion and the lust that comes from love denied much too long. Linda's lips and tongue gently working their way down Sue's neck to the swell of her breasts. Than taking each nipple in turn into her warm mouth, her tongue teased each rubbery bud into rock hard points of sensitive flesh. As Linda slowly work her velvet tongue teasingly down Sue's toned body, stopping at her navel to tenderly swirl her tongue into it.

Sue moaned her fingers digging into the sheets. "OOOOHHHHHHH! God mmmmmmmm." As Linda continued her tender kisses and gentle caresses of her tongue down Sue's burning flesh. Till she found the pouting petals of Sue's swollen vulva. Linda sucked the moist folds of Sue's inner lips between her's as her fingertips gently teased the smooth flesh of Sue's shaking inner thighs.

Linda rolled her tongue gently just inside Sue's lips tracing the outline of her pussy from bottom to just under the hood of her exposed clitoris. Ever so softly taking the hard pink bud between her lips as her tongue fluttered over its tip sending Sue off into a twisting mass of lust filled moans and gyrations. Moaning in her own pleasure Linda slowly slipped two long slim fingers into Sue's quivering vagina carefully stimulating her sensitive g-spot. Sue arched her hips tightly towards Linda's probing tongue suddenly losing control she shook and spasmed under Linda’s gently caresses.

As her orgasm subsides the two women laid together drifting into a sound sleep.



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

The next morning at breakfast Mike told Pat of his plans to see Linda's children. 



"I'm going with you dad." Interjected Carol. "I started this I have to see it through."

Pat hugged her daughter. "Take her with you Mike, she's right. Carol you don't know how proud you just made me to hear you say that."

As Mike and his daughter drove across the county he warned her about getting her hopes up too high. "There is no telling what can happen. They don't know their mother at all and there is no telling what stories they have grown up with."

"I know dad, but Linda has never let us down. I can't do any less for her can I?" Quizzed Carol.

Mike could only smile. "Your mother was so right, both of us are very proud of you."

Mike stopped the SUV in front of an old home in one of the more affluent sections of the county. Taking his daughter's hand they walked towards the door. Before ringing the bell he handed Carol the two folders he had brought with them. "Ok, cadet let's see how you handle yourself."

Carol rang the bell, almost dropping the papers as she stared into the face of Miriam Shannon. It was a perfect twin to that of Linda's in almost every way. "Miss Shannon, I'm Carol Gibson and this is my father Captain Gibson. Could we please speak to you and you brother for a few moments? It concerns your mother."

Miriam led them into the living room and called her brother. "Look if she's dead we really don't care. She's never bothered with us and I doubt if there is anything you have to say we really want to hear."

Miriam's words cut Carol as deeply as any knife could have, but the determined young woman held her ground. "I think you should read these before you judge her." Carol passed the copies of the divorce transcripts and Linda's service record to Miriam who tossed them to the side.

Young Joey, a law clerk, began to read the transcripts as Carol tried to reason with his sister. Suddenly Carol's anger she tried to hold in check took over. "Listen here, you spoiled brat, you sleep safely in this big house because of men and women, like my parents and your own mother that put their lives on the line every day to protect you."

"Sis, I think you should read this before you say anything else." Joey said pointing to a passage of the transcript.

Miriam read the passages than looking at her brother said. "Why did dad lie to us for all these years?"

Carol handed Miriam a note bearing the Gibson's address. "Be here New Year's Eve. I think the three of you need to talk. I think you should also read the rest of the information."

Miriam nodded to Carol. "Just don't expect too much from me. It's going to take time."

As they left Joe and Miriam sat together reading their mother's service record. "God." said Miriam. "Look at this, six times decorated for valor, including the department’s highest award."

"And just look here." Joe replied pointing to her arrest record. "Not one narcotics arrest without a conviction. Letters of Commendation from the DEA, the States Attorney General's Office, and the State Patrol. Sis, I don't know about you but I've just got to meet her."

Two weeks later Carol again visited Linda. She showed her with delight her letter of acceptance to the Academy. "Oh, almost forgot New Year's at our house, everyone in full dress uniform." Not wanting Linda to question her, Carol made a quick exit.

On New Year's Eve Linda and Sue dressed in their formal dress uniforms and drove to the Gibson's home. Pat met them at the door. After the hugs and kisses were over. Linda asked, "Why are we all dressed like this?"

"Better ask her." Pat replied. "It's her party."

Before Linda could say a word Stephanie took her by the hands, As Carol tied a scarf over her eyes. "Just relax Aunt Linda we have a big surprise for you." The two girls lead Linda into the next room, as the scarf dropped from her eyes; they yelled "Surprise!"

Linda's hands covered her open mouth as she stood before the children she only hoped to see. Tears quickly rolled down her cheeks as she and Joey embraced. All eyes fell to Miriam as she slowly circled Joey and Linda. Suddenly she blurted out. "Mom" in a tearful voice ran to join Joey and her mother in their first family hug.

Seeing this the Gibson's and Sue left the room to allow the three time to get acquainted on their own.



To Serve & Protect: 10-7, 10-42



(Although they are not used everywhere in American law enforcement, the 10 code system is the most widely used police shorthand. When an officer announces "10-8, 10-41", he is announcing he is in service and beginning his patrol shift. He may call 10-7, out of service, for administrative reasons and will call 10-8, back in service when he's again available for assignment. The final call of the shift is 10-7, 10-42. This signifies the officer is out of service and has ended his patrol shift. In other words, "Don't call me, I'm going home." This combination announcement is also made at one other police function...)

Inspector Pat Gibson, Jackson County Sheriff's Department, Retired, curled her feet under her and rested her head on her husband's chest. She sighed comfortably. 

"What is it sweetheart?" asked Inspector Mike Gibson, Retired. He carefully placed his arm around his wife of 50 years. She felt so brittle and so light, her body wasting away from her long struggle with cancer. He kissed the top of her head, disturbing her snow white hair.

"Just thinking," she answered, She slid one arm under him, the other around him and laced her fingers. She listened to the steady rhythm of the pacemaker he had been given after his second heart attack. His chest was no longer the six pack of muscles and his arm was thin now, but his closeness still thrilled her.

"About what?"

"About all this," Pat indicated with a movement of her head.

Mike looked around and smiled. "It is quite a gathering isn't it?" The broad back yard of their house was covered in people of all ages. Two grills smoked with hamburgers and hotdogs. Metal washtubs full of ice and sodas were being constantly restocked. Kids played games, adults talked and a radio carried the music appropriate to their annual 4th of July party throughout the gathering.

"Children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Something that at one time I never even dreamed of having. And a husband who's as handsome today as he was that day I first met him so many years ago." Pat tipped her head and accepted a kiss from Mike. "Thank goodness Bob DuPree was running radar on Highway 143 that day.

Pat felt more than heard the sigh from Mike. "Honey, for forty years we've been over this. I know he was your best friend. But we got up those stairs as fast as we could." She looked at him and then continued. "Only one thing could have changed that day. But he wouldn't have been the man he was if he hadn't gone out in that parking lot that day." ...

***********

... Gunfire echoed through the area. Screams and cries were not confined to the open air. Captain Mike Gibson tried to make sense of the noise and conflicting reports coming over the radio mounted in their big SUV. He cursed, something he didn't often do and looked at his wife, who was sitting in the passenger's seat, talking on the cell phone. "What the hell is going on?" He demanded.

"Sniper in the city hall tower," Lieutenant Pat Gibson answered. "We have at least five people down. Bob Dupree and his partner are arriving now. More backup is on the way, but its going to be 10 minutes at least." 

Mike looked in the mirrors and spun the big vehicle to the left. "We can be there in three."

"Take Lavoir Street, it'll bring us up to the back and the rear set of the building should shield us," Pat advised.

They roared to a stop behind the target building. They both leaped from the vehicle. Mike pulled off his coat and tie. As Pat raced to the back of the Ford, Mike looked in the back two seats at the rest of the family. "Carol, when we go in, back up into that parking garage. You'll be safe there. Stephanie, you and Mikie look after the twins."

"Yes sir," came the chorus from their children.    Mike sprinted to the rear of the vehicle. Pat already had the back opened and the gear they kept at hand pulled out. She tightened her vest, strapped her equipment belt around her waist and chambered a round in her Glock. As Mike pulled his gear on she loaded his Smith and Wesson and handed it carefully to him. They turned their radios on and donned the brown jackets marked "Sheriff". Mike ran for the building's back door, fishing a key out. 

Pat started to close the door. She stopped, pulled off her shoes and threw them in before slamming the door. She chased Mike towards the building, running in her stocking feet. "I swear I am never going to wear heels again in my life, whether we're going to church and dinner out after or not. And I look ridiculous in this getup over a dress."

The two of them stormed up the service stairs to the main floor. Pat pointed right and they rushed up towards the fourth floor and the ladder to the tower. Mike was on the radio, demanding silence from everyone except the officers on the scene. "Talk to me Bob, tell me what's going on. Can you pinpoint his location in the tower?"

"Mike, he's on the north side. Be careful, when you come through that door he'll be right on your left hand." There was a woman's scream on the radio. "What's that lady?" they heard. "Oh My God. Danny, hold her here. Oh Shit, there's a little girl out there, Mike. I'm going after her."

"No," Mike called on the radio. "Hold your position."

The two officers heard the fatal moments over their radios as they charged up the stairway. Bob's twisting and turning made the first shot miss. Danny's covering gunfire caused the gunman to duck for a moment. When Danny reloaded, the man popped back up just as Bob caught the little girl up and ran for cover. Bob managed to shield the girl with his own body. Two high powered rifle bullets tore through him, penetrating the vest they were never intended to stop. In one last heave Bob managed to throw the child to cover before he fell lifeless to the pavement.

Screaming with rage Mike hit the wooden door at the top of the steps. Barricaded or not, the door offered little resistance to the infuriated former marine. He shook his head to clear it from the impact and swung his weapon to cover the man he saw.

Pat took an extra moment to come through the door, avoiding the wood splinters with her bare feet. She came in low since Mike had come in high. She called an order to the gunman. "Drop your weapon, NOW!" The man snarled and spun, the rifle barrel swinging towards them. Each officer fired twice, the classic "double tap" of their training. Hit four times, the gunman collapsed. 

When the cleanup was finished, there were two dead civilians, three wounded ones and a badge to be retired. Bob Dupree received the highest award the department had to bestow, and Mike had lost his best friend... 

***********

... Behind his glasses Mike's eyes wandered over the extended family. He smiled, remembering their friend, when his gaze landed on Lt Colonel (Retired) Bob Gibson, USMC. He felt Pat smiling. "I know who you're looking at," she teased him.

"Yes, well, when our youngest is old enough to be retired, I begin to think we're not as young as we think we are. And I bet, since we're looking at our children, I know whom you're looking at."

"Just Carol," Pat nodded towards Deputy Inspector Carol Gibson Wilson. "If I look too hard at Stephanie she thinks I need a pill or an exam."

"She's a good doctor, honey." Mike paused and admitted, "If a little over protective now that her parents are her only patients. And Carol, my gosh. All she wanted from the time we married was to be a law enforcement officer, like her mother."

Pat smiled. "Everyone has those special moments in their lives. I have been blessed with so many. The day I realized you were in love with me, the day we married. The days each of our children was born. And by no means the least, the day Carol and Stephanie called me 'Mother'." She laughed. "But having both parents as white shirt officers on the department didn't always make things easy for her ...

***********

... The man and the woman had the car rocking. He was stretched out as best he could along the front seat, his head propped on the door's arm rest. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his chest and his jeans were open. The woman was crouched over him, her smaller body in the 69 position. She was nude from the waist down. Her blouse was open and her bra pushed up to expose her breasts.

Because of the tight fit the woman's knees were bent and her toes pressed along the glass of the driver's side door. The man's head was tipped up between her spread legs. His tongue was rapidly flicking over and between her puffy lips. His hands grasped her hips, his fingers curled onto the swelling of her ass. He pulled her down onto his stabbing tongue as it dipped inside her and she groaned.

Her head bobbed up and down as she slid her lips over his erect cock. She paused at the top of each stroke to swirl her tongue over the mushroom head like she was licking an ice cream cone. Then she plunged back down over the shaft until her nose mashed against his groin. Both of them uttered wordless moans, encouraging each to further pleasure their partner.

The black and white cruised slowly down road. The two officers in it peered out at the passing bushes. The area was one of new residential construction and there had been a number of complaints about theft and vandalism. The night's briefing had reminded them to be sure to make frequent checks and run off any trespassers.

"There's a car over there in that little access road," Deputy Carol Gibson said.

"I see it," Deputy Roger Wilson commented. He reached for the radio. "Do you want me to call it in?"

"I can't see the tag." She shifted the cruiser into park and reached for her flashlight.

"Good lord, look at that car bounce," Roger breathed. He laughed. "Now why do you want to disturb them Carol?"

"Because its our duty to keep the area clear," Carol said with a straight face. Then she grinned, "And because its mean, but its fun." With that they got out of the cruiser, closing the doors carefully to make no noise and approached the car.

Inside the car the couple had shifted positions. She was on her back with her hips lifted in the air and her legs lying along his chest. She was almost bent double as he pounded his hips against. She humped up at him by arching her back, taking his thrusting cock all the way into her. Her fingers raked his back and her eyes were glazed over.

"Oh yes, yes, yessssssssssss," the woman crooned. Her arms wrapped around the man's torso. "Now honey, NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW."

"Yes baby, yes," moaned the man in reply. both bodies stiffened against each other. The man's head tilted as he released a torrent into the woman. She cried out in reply as she shuddered and met his orgasm with her own.

Roger kept his partner covered as she approached the completely fogged over driver's window. She turned her flashlight on full and used the front of it to rap on the window. There was a moment's pause, then the window rolled partway down. Roger strained to hear what was being said, a big grin on his face.

After only an instant, Carol jerked upright. She spun on her heel and all but ran back to the car, waving at Roger to join her. He slid into the seat, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "What in the world," he began only to have her cut him off.   "Not a word Roger." She started the cruiser, peeled into a U turn and drove out of the subdivision as though they were being chased. By the light of the street lamps he could see her face was completely rigid. Then he realized her face was also completely red. Good lord, she was embarrassed by, well, by whatever that was.

Behind them in the subdivision, the car window had been cranked back up. The man and woman snuggled together. She giggled. He smiled. She laughed. He broke into laughter and in a moment they were almost weeping they were so carried away.

"Think we scarred her for life?" he asked.

"I hope not," she replied." But after all, how many cops catch their own parents parking?" ...

***********

... "I wonder if she ever told Roger the whole story?"

"Maybe after they were married," replied Pat. "I certainly never asked her about it. It was all your idea anyway."

"Can I help it if I can't keep my hands off you? Besides, I forgot they were patrolling that area."

"For someone who claims he knows every bit of this county, when you get it wrong you get it really wrong."

 "Now I simply misremembered the numbering system on ONE street!" He protested.

"Yes, but I'M the one who got knocked on her ass," she replied. ...

***********

... The car slipped quietly into the store parking lot, its headlights out.

"8 Lincoln is on the scene, Dispatch," Pat quietly advised. "How do you want to handle it Mike?" she asked her partner and for the last 3 months now her lover and beloved.

"You wait here while I go around to the next street and go up two blocks. I'll park up there and radio you. We'll close in and catch him between us. And honey? Be careful. This is just a Peeping Tom report, but I have a feeling."

"Okay," Pat replied. She slipped out of the car, checking her walkie-talkie. Then she suddenly leaned back into the car and kissed him. "You be careful too."

Pat stood under a tree at the street corner and listened. Mike quickly but carefully pulled the cruiser around and sped off down the side street. Her thoughts followed him. Simply amazing. Tall, handsome and strong with a gentle, loving heart. And he was hers. What could he see in a tomboyish woman like her? He didn't even know her, that her last relationship was with another woman and she still had strong attractions to her own sex. Well, she never would have thought it, but her attraction to him outweighed any other in her life. She really loved him so much.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the squawk of her radio. "Damn it Pat. I was wrong. The house is two blocks up the street, not one. I just pulled in the complainant's driveway. Wait a minute," he paused, then "He's spooked, he's running! 8 Lincoln to Dispatch, officer in foot pursuit, south on Donaldson from the 100 block."

With Mike's first words Pat was moving. When she heard his full radio transmission she began sprinting up the street. She ran with her flashlight in one hand, the other on the grips of her weapon. She didn't draw it, nothing in this situation justified deadly force. She stiffened and slowed as she heard Mike's powerful voice ahead and to her side. "Sheriff's Department, Halt!"

Pat stopped. She turned towards a line of hedges to her right and strained her ears. She heard crashing noises and suddenly a body burst through the bushes and slammed right into her, knocking them both down. They fell heavily together to the sidewalk but Pat, with her martial arts training, reacted first. She rolled on top and struck a careful blow to the other's stomach with the barrel of her flashlight.

As the other person, crumpled Pat turned the light on the suspect. A man in his apparent 20's he had long stringy hair and a full beard. He was in stocking feet and dirty denim. Since he matched the description broadcast of the peeper, she straddled him and cuffed him.

Mike came through the bushes and took in the scene. "Hey!" he called, seemingly very indignantly. "I turn my back for five minutes and I find you on top of some other guy."

Pat pulled the wheezing suspect to his feet. She smiled the sweet smile that Mike had already learned meant to back up quickly. "Going to like sleeping on the couch when you come over are you?" ...

***********

... "Hey, that turned into your first felony arrest. That scumbag turned out to be wanted for everything but good manners. He went away for a long time."

"Still didn't help the bruises on my bottom."

"I think I worked very hard to help you over them. I applied a lot of massage therapy as I recall."

"Even used your hands for some it," Pat recalled with a smile.

They continued to snuggle and their eyes wandered. 

"Who do you suppose it was harder for? Being on the department, I mean?" wondered Mike aloud.

"Hard to tell. Carol was the first deputy with both her parents on the force. Mikie had to face both his parents were getting pretty up there in rank, AND he had a sister and brother who were both sergeants by then. On the other hand, people were pretty used to the Gibsons being around by then. He also made a pretty spectacular impression when he was still a rookie, even if we did cover up his famous words that night"...

***********

... For six weeks the Athertown area of the county had be terrorized by a pair of holdup men. They had robbed 8 convenience stores. Two persons, a clerk and a customer, had been seriously injured, apparently for not responding quickly enough to the bandits' demands. Deputy Inspector Mike Gibson had been assigned to head up the new Special Patrol task force and was given the case.

While detectives followed clues, Mike took the step of assigning heavily armed officers to the various stores in the area. During the hours of darkness, when the hold ups occurred, they remained secluded in the back rooms. They never interfered with rude customers or shoplifters and the store personnel had been carefully instructed to call them only in case of robbery.

Days had passed and nothing had happened. Mike had talked it over with Pat, but she had her own problems. As head of Internal Affairs now, she had the responsibility for investigating any complaints or incidents involving the department. She also had to keep a close eye out for corruption. It was not an assignment she was in love with, but it had to be done. She remembered the temptations of easy money from her time as commander of the Narcotics Strike Force.

Tonight it all seemed elsewhere. Their house was much emptier now. The older three children all out on their own and married. Carol and Mikie were both on the department and Stephanie was a well respected emergency room doctor. Just the twins remained at home, and now that they were teenagers they were always on the go. Tonight they were spending the night at a friend's. 

Mike relaxed in his old comfortable battered recliner. He and Pat had argued about it for over a decade. She insisted it clashed with everything and belonged at Goodwill. He claimed it "understood" him. Tonight he sprawled in it, wearing a pair of khakis. He was bare-chested, watching a baseball game and sipping a glass of iced tea.

Pat wandered through, wearing one of his shirts. She was barefoot and Mike carefully eyed her legs. They just got better and better looking, he thought. All of her did. Three children and twenty plus years of marriage just made her sexier.

She sat for a moment on the arm to the chair. "How's the game?"

"Boring." He reached for her with his right arm but she slipped away. 

"Too bad. I'll be back in a second. I need to change clothes."

"But I like your clothes," he called after her. "Oh well." he grumbled.

Two minutes later she was back. She still was wearing the same shirt. 

"I thought you were going to change?"

"I did," she replied. She sat on his lap, facing him. He realized the shirt was unbuttoned. That made it obvious she had nothing on under it.

"Oh," he observed. Then he said nothing at all as his arms pulled her close to him. His face slipped inside the shirt and between her breasts. She leaned against him. He fell back into the recliner and she followed him. His hands reached under her to grasp the firm round ass he so loved.

Back and forth, his face darted from one breast to another. He licked each one, then sucked the left one deep in his mouth. He followed with the right. His hands squeezed again and again, in time with his tongue rasping over her sensitive nipples.

Pat was almost whining with frustration as she fought to open his slacks without moving from where she straddled him. He lifted her in the air with his strong legs and she triumphantly pulled his cock out. He settled back down, his manhood hard in her hand. She raised herself, rubbing the head in her already wet slit. Straightening her back, she closed her eyes and slowly let her weight push him up inside her.




To Serve & Protect: 10-7, 10-42



"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Pat breathed. "Lovely." With her knees on either side of Mike, Pat was in the perfect position to control the speed and intensity of their lovemaking. She took her husband's hands and place them over her breasts. She winked at him as he smiled broadly. "You're always trying to get your hands on them anyway."

He responded by carefully sliding his palms in circles over the soft globes. Her already hard nipples bent and sprang back up again and again as he brushed over them. She began to slowly and lightly bounce up and down on his cock. At first she moved less than an inch. As the friction inside her and on her breasts increased she moved faster and farther.

Pat still tried to keep a moderate tempo. She didn't want her or Mike to come too soon. Nights alone in the house were meant to be savored. Still, his cock sliding up in her, so familiar after all these years and yet always so different, made her pulse quicken to a temple pounding speed.

Mike was loving it. The sight of his petite wife bouncing wildly on his erection brought his breathing to a pitch that made his chest look like a bellows. It was all he could do not to grab her and pull her all the way down on him, ramming upwards into her. Tonight she would set the tempo and he would follow.

Pat was moving faster and harder, using the strength of her still firm legs when suddenly the house was filled with noise as both their beepers went off. Mike's eyes came all the way open. "Oh SHIT. Honey!"

Pat looked wildly around her, hoping one of the beepers at least was in reach. Neither was. She reached out and grasped his shoulders. Using them for additional leverage she slammed up and down the full length of Mike's shaft. He grasped her nipples. Rather than pinch or pull them he simply held them tight and let her movements stretch them.

"Oh god bless meeeeeeeeeeee," cried Pat. She felt Mike stiffen completely as the first blast of his cum shoot up inside her. She dropped completely down, driving the spurting head against her soft spot. She leaned back, pulling her breasts into taunt cones and came with a long shuddering wail.

For just a few seconds Pat rested her torso against Mike's. Then duty overcame them both and they scrambled to find their beepers. They grabbed cell phones and dialed the numbers given them. Pat slipped off Mike's shirt and ran nude for the bedroom. Mike frantically stuffed his member back in his pants. He heard the toilet flush and Pat came back out hopping up and down trying to get in her jeans. She had pulled a t-shirt on and even in the moment Mike enjoyed the thought she wasn't wearing underwear.

Mike got through to his office. He turned pale. Pat was talking and met his eyes. She nodded.

As they both hung up Pat took a deep breath. "Okay, he's alright, not injured at all. I can't make the call official until I investigate the scene, but right now it looks like a righteous shooting. I'll go straight to the Corners." She hesitated. "Mike?" He looked at her and she continued. "Given the circumstances, wait until I call you to come. I know its your case, but its Internal Affairs now."

"Of course, Honey. Besides, both of us together could look like either double teaming or special privilege. Neither of what he needs. I'll go to the office though."

Mike got to the headquarters building and received a quick briefing from the lieutenant on duty. All he had available were the radio transmission, but pretty obviously Mike, Jr. had been involved in a spectacular gunfight at the little hamlet called Corners. Pat called him before he really had time to digest it and certainly before he had time to get impatient.

"Come on out here," she told him. "Everything looks good and Mikie is untouched, although pretty shook now that the adrenaline has worn off. We do need to discuss one thing."

Mike drove quickly but without running code. He scanned the parking lot when he arrived. Two huge holes in the storefront's windows and shards of glass scattered outside indicated what had happened. He parked. Pat was standing by the door, writing on her clipboard. 

"Captain Gibson," Mike said formally, although with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Deputy Inspector Gibson," she replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Can you brief me on the situation, please?"

"Certainly." Pat referred to her notes and statements. "At approximately 11 PM two masked individuals entered the store and confronted the clerk and two customers. The clerk was forced to open the cash drawer and all three were ordered to lay on their stomachs. They then heard Deputy Gibson's voice as he apparently challenged the alleged suspects. At least three handgun shots were heard before Deputy Gibson fired twice with his shotgun. Backup and emergency medical aid were summoned immediately. Both hold up men were pronounced DOA at County General. They have been identified as Lucas Pendleton and Billy Toliver."

Mike raised his eyebrows. "All these years since that night at the Senior Citizen's Center. I guess some old boys never learn."

Pat sighed. "I guess not. They got in front of a Gibson and a shotgun a second time, and this time they thought they'd shoot it out." She paused and resumed her official voice. "I have examined the store's videotape surveillance system which confirms Officer Gibson, in full uniform, confronted them and that each subject fired at least once before he did. There will be no department charges, but rather a recommendation for an award for valor. The matter will be presented to the District Attorney's Office. I will recommend it be sent to the Grand Jury where it can be reviewed again and then dismissed."

"WHEW," Mike let out his breath. "Sounds good." He looked thoughtfully at his wife. "What are you not telling me?"

She reached inside her jacket pocket and took out a statement form. "I made him rewrite it after I talked to the customers and the clerk. Apparently none of the three of them caught anything but the sound of his voice, not what he said. The video tape is silent. I told him I understood, but that he would have to learn some calm, even in situations of high stress."

Mike read the form. His eyes opened wide. "He really said that?"

"That's what he told me."

Mike handed the form back to Pat. "I WILL have a talk with our son. As tempting as it is when confronting two armed suspects, proper identification as a law-enforcement officer does not include the words 'Surprise Motherfuckers!'." ... 

***********

..."All good kids, everyone of them." Mike nodded in the warmth of the sun. In a few minutes Pat felt the slow rise and fall of his chest that indicated he was asleep. She continued to lay against him. For just now she wasn't in pain and she didn't want to risk moving. Her eyes fluttered shut.

Pat yawned deeply. When had she fallen asleep? The noise of the party seemed far away. At the same time she felt invigorated, better than she had in she couldn't remember when. Her head was still nestled on Mike's chest. Feeling the steady breathing she realized he was still asleep himself.

A grin crossed her face, matching the thought in her mind. Careful not to disturb him, she slowly slipped her hands to his sides. Then, just where she knew it would affect him the most, she tickled him.

"HEY!" Mike came immediately awake. Laughing, she sprang from the swing and darted down the steps onto the lawn. "I see you, you tease." Putting one hand on the porch railing he vaulted it. Landing lightly on his feet he spread his arms and stalked his wife. His eyes twinkling, he mock growled, "You're mine now, my pretty."

They both stopped. They looked at each other in amazement. Gone was the white hair, the glasses and the stooped postures. Gone were the wrinkles, and the aches and the constant pain. Pat looked at a tall man of about 30, with dark hair and eyes and a powerful build. Mike saw a woman in her mid-twenties, her smooth skin and curves hinting at the agility and speed she possessed. Both appeared as they had when they first met.

Pat sucked in her breath, looking past Mike. He turned and followed her gaze. Slowly they both moved towards the porch and the elderly couple still asleep on the swing.

"Mike?" spoke Pat softly. "I think that's us."

"They, or we, or us, or whomever. I don't think they're breathing." He answered quietly.

She looked at him and swallowed. "I guess that means we're ... dead."

They looked again and the porch was gone. A growing light caught their eyes. They felt themselves drawn towards it. Taking each other's hands they walked that way.

"Pat? Are you scared honey?"

"Never when I'm with you." She squeezed his hand.

"And what would you be scared of anyway, you two?" A familiar soprano voice asked them. The couple saw the slim figure and floating dark hair of their dearest friend.

"Linda!" Pat and Mike exclaimed together. They rushed to their long gone friend, heroically killed in the line of duty years ago.

"And about time, you two. YOU," she pointed at Pat, "Should have come home two years ago. But we knew you wouldn't leave without him. We thought the big lunk," She suddenly crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Mike, as she always done when she teased him, "here was going to live forever."

"We?"

"All of us who knew you and loved you. People you spent a lot of time with; people whose lives you only brushed briefly. Some people you never even both met." 

A crowd seemed to have gathered. So many people. One woman walked up and took Pat's hands.

"Hi Lori." Pat smiled. "Thank you."

Lori smiled. "Thank you, Pat. You were a wonderful mother."

"How did you know her?" Mike asked, looking at his first wife and then at Pat.

"Oh she was around. I never heard her, never saw her, but I knew she was there. I used to talk to her about the girls. Later I talked to her about all the children."

"I don't understand it," marveled Mike. He looked around. Bob Dupree smiled and waved. "I thought seeing you again would make me cry. All those things we missed. How much I missed you."

"Tears are a thing of the past now, Mike." Linda smiled. "I have the authority to tell you both this; 'Well done, thou good and faithful servants.' Or in other words, you were two good cops. Come on."

An inspector's funeral is elaborate. A funeral for two is incredible. Almost a mile of law enforcement vehicles followed the caskets to the small country cemetery where the Gibsons put their parents to rest. Hundreds of police officers from eight states stood around as the service reached its finale. An honor guard of Deputies and Marines stood by the caskets to give the final salute.

The Department Chaplain nodded at Carol. She reached down and switched her walkie-talkie on and turned the volume up. In succession, all the other officers did the same. Carol lifted her cell phone, already connected to the radio room and simply said "Now."

The radio spoke, amplified by the hundreds of speakers in cars and on belts. "Jackson County Sheriff's Office, all cars and stations on this frequency. Be advised that Inspector Mike Gibson and Inspector Pat Gibson are 10-7, 10-42. They are out of service," the dispatcher's voice broke and she carried on through her tears, "ending patrol."

The five Gibson children; Carol, Stephanie, Mike, Jr., Bob and Daniel, stood with their arms interlocked as the bagpiper began "Amazing Grace." Suddenly, Carol's head jerked up. For just a moment she had felt the warm, firm grip of her Father on her right shoulder. It had been matched by the gentle touch of her Mother for an instant on her left shoulder.

Carol looked at her siblings. They matched her gaze and she realized they had all felt it for that one moment. They knew their parents were still watching over them, still protecting them and would until they met them again one day.

                   (The End)

(That's the end of this story but not the end of this series. I have two more stories already underway, Linda_s is writing her second story in this series, and Mike and Pat have been invited to make a guest appearance in another author's series in 2004. Hope to see you all again as those stories appear.) 



To Serve and Protect



The moon hung like a huge, silver dish over the mountain. A clear sky allowed so much light that Mags almost didn't need her headlights. She could see far beyond the reach of the beams, out into the spookily gray distance, up to where the road curved and snaked to the summit. The South Carolina night breathed warmly and seductively, and she understood why so many retirees were flooding the state. Who could resist such a night? Who would want to? Yet, along with the people traveled troubles. Paradise always harbored a snake or two. She knew. She had been a police officer for enough years to understand how criminals trailed money like blue tick hounds. The retirees brought golf clubs and jewelry and electronics and a hankering for lonely, isolated places. Criminals could smell affluence, sharks honing in on the blood scent.

Tonight, though, her shift had been uneventful. She had traversed the county without adventure--except for a single, property damage accident that hardly seemed worth noting. Neither driver had been drinking, and both showed her respect despite her 5', 106 lb. frame. Even with her size and beauty, she never hesitated. She earned respect. As she pushed toward the curve, she looked forward to a night of uninterrupted sleep. Her bed would greet her like a panting puppy.

As she rounded the curve, she spotted the car in the distance. Pulled off, blinkers flashing, she couldn't miss it. Without hesitation, she flipped on her bubble lights and radioed the dispatcher. She pulled in behind the Ford Explorer and called in the plate, although she expected nothing. The Explorer had Indiana plates, and dispatch rarely had information on out-of-state plates.

Waiting for dispatch, she looked around, wondering where the driver had gone. What was the Explorer doing so far from the Interstate? Retiree? Perhaps. Tourists generally rolled the Interstate straight through to the coast, Charleston or Myrtle Beach. They didn't get stuck on lonely mountain highways. 

When dispatch offered nothing, Mags slipped out of her cruiser. The radio attached to her shoulder kept her in touch as she approached the vehicle. Flashlight in hand, she walked to the driver's side. Empty. She glanced over her shoulder as if expecting to find the driver behind her, but the road was empty. Odd, but not too odd. Mechanical trouble seemed to be the problem, and the driver was probably a man. Women tended to stay with the vehicle until help arrived. Men set off in search of help, as if a garage would be open at midnight. She wondered sometimes at the lack of logic. Even if the driver found someone--not all that likely--what could they do before morning? She looked in all the windows, noting some golf clubs, a bag. Tourist. Probably someone who had left the Interstate and become lost. But where was he?

She returned to her cruiser, apprised dispatch of the situation, and pulled away from the Explorer. Since she hadn't seen the driver already, she guessed he had continued up the mountain. Being a tourist, he couldn't know he was heading away from civilization, not toward it. She drove slowly, on the lookout. It was likely that some driver had already picked up the stranded man and offered help, which was fine with Mags. If she found the tourist, her night wouldn't end until she had found safety for him. She would just as soon sleep.

He was walking on the shoulder, a dark figure in the moonlight. "Damn," she cursed as she flipped on the bubbles again. She would lose an hour of sleep at least. As she neared, he stopped and faced the approaching car.

What struck her immediately was his sheepish grin. He looked like someone who had made a mistake and didn't want to admit it. An innocence showed through, but she ignored that. She had been fooled by innocent looks before. In her line of work, looks were deceiving. Better, to judge by actions. She stopped the cruiser, climbed out slowly, and approached him.

As she neared, she noticed he was handsome. To her practiced eye, he seemed 6', 170, short brown hair, brown eyes, no distinguishing scars. He wore a tan jacket over khaki Dockers and Nike jogging shoes. His hands hung by his side, as if showing he had nothing to hide. Broad shoulders, slim hips, she guessed him to be roughly her age--35. His grin held as he looked at her, and she understood the look. Men looked at her a lot.

"Good evening, officer," he began. "You must have passed my Explorer back there."

"Do you have some identification?" she asked.

"Sure." She watched carefully as he fumbled in his jacket pocket and removed a wallet which he offered.

"Drivers license," she said. "And please remove it from the wallet."

He stepped forward, handed her his license, and stepped back, understanding the need for space between them. Under the flashlight, she read the license. He was her age and from Indiana. The photo didn't do justice to his face.

"What are you doing so far off the Interstate?" she asked. In the back of her mind, she harbored a suspicion that he had driven down to conduct some drug business with some of the dealers who lived in the mountains, a good place to hide nefarious activities. 

"Actually, I was trying to find someone, and I ran out of gas."

"Oh?"

"I know this sounds improbable," he continued. "But I met her over the internet. She lives around here somewhere. I stopped in town for directions, but I forgot to buy gas. I guess I was a little anxious to see her. Anyway, when the engine stopped, I decided I'd try to walk."

"And who is this friend you're trying to find?"

He grinned. "Well, she's a cop, and she's cute, and her name is Mags."

For an instant, she couldn't believe her ears. "That's me," she stammered.

"I thought so." He tilted his head to one side. "And I have to admit that you're even prettier than I imagined."

She felt a blush rush up her cheek.

"Before you guess the wrong screen name," he continued. "I'm Indy."

Stunned, she could only repeat his name. "Indy?"

"I should have called or left email or something," he said. "But I had this idea that surprising you might be better. I guess not."

"No, no," she said quickly. "It's just that...well...I never dreamed...."

"I don't know what came over me," he said. "I got to thinking about you, and I asked myself what the hell I was doing in Indiana when you were here. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"I...I...no, not stupid." She looked around and then handed back his license. "Here. We should probably get out of the road. Come back to the cruiser."

Walking back to the car provided her time to think. She was surprised and flattered and anxious all at the same time. He looked better than his photo, more alive, and his voice was nice, and she had no idea how she was going to handle the situation.

Inside the cruiser, she radioed dispatch to let them know everything was all right. She was aiding a stranded motorist, nothing more. Leaving the bubble lights on, she faced him.

"I don't know what to say," she began.

"You don't have say anything," he answered. "Haul my sorry butt to a gas station so I can get some gas and a ride back to my vehicle. I'll get out of your hair."

"Sure," she said. She started the engine, killed the bubbles, and made a U-turn. As she roared off, she stole a glance at him. Was he disappointed? 

They rode in silence down the road, past the blinking Explorer. She wondered what he must be thinking. She had talked to him a hundred times via computer, and yet face to face, she couldn't think of anything to say.

"I must seem pretty stupid," he said. "Running out of gas. I guess I was a little distracted."

"Happens to all of us," she answered. What was she doing? The man had driven 600 miles to see her, and she was treating him like just another unlucky motorist?

"Seems I'm full of bad ideas." He laughed. "Beautiful moon, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Which is more important the sun or the moon?"

She glanced at him. What was it, a riddle? "Sun, I guess."

"Moon," he answered. "The sun shines during the day when it's light, but the moon shines at night, when it's dark." He laughed.

"You like night?"

"I like moonlight. It's softer than daylight. Imperfections disappear but essential beauty remains. Women are softer in moonlight, men stronger. Special light."

He spoke as he wrote, which was the reason she had liked him in the first place. He was a writer at heart, an intellect foaming with words, with phrases, with images that had captured her imagination. 

"You should put that in a story," she said.

"I have." He laughed. "Every good line I think of or hear goes into a story."

She had the sudden urge to reach over and touch his leg, to feel the muscle beneath the cloth. Why? What about him invited her touch? She didn't, she couldn't. How did she initiate things? Did she want to? She felt confused, more confused than trying to sort out a fracas between three drunks.

Silence was the third rider. She longed to say something, but she didn't know what to say. She hadn't been so shy since high school, since Ray Stine, the halfback she had always wanted to date. Yet, every time she had been around Ray, she had shunned any hint of intelligence and wit. Tongue tied, she could barely answer "hello". And she had never gone out with Ray. For some reason, Indy had the same effect on her.

Tolliver's Shell was open all night. She pulled in, and he opened the door.

"Thanks," he said. "I appreciate the lift."

"I'll take you back," she said.

"You don't have to."

"It's on my way."

He looked at her a moment. "OK, let me get a can of gas."

While she waited, Mags wondered about herself. All her police training dictated that she take command of the situation, that she act quickly and forcefully. Yet, with Indy, she seemed to have no confidence. Was it the surprise of his visit, or was she really scared? Fear wasn't new to her. She was often afraid, but she always acted anyway. Why was this time different? Because he could write? Because she had daydreamed about him? Because he seemed too good to be true, a fantasy better left untouched?

Before she could answer, he returned with a can of gas which she had him put in the trunk. Who wanted to ride around with gas fumes?

"You're a heart breaker," he said as they left the station.

"What?"

"That guy at the counter wanted to know how I earned the right to ride in the front seat. Seems you're famous for making everyone ride in back."

She laughed. "Billy Tolliver buys me a beer any time I go into the Over Easy, that's a bar down the street. If speeding didn't add points to his license, he'd blast through my radar trap every day. I frisked him once, and he liked it way too much."

Indy laughed. She liked the sound. He had an easy, natural laugh.

"I imagine some of the guys would opt for a strip search."

"Never strip search a male," she answered. "Frisk, pat down, but no stripping."

"Pity.'

She glanced at him, noting the playful grin. While they had kidded about frisks and pat downs while talking on-line, she wondered if he would stand for such a thing.

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked to change the subject.

"Not yet. Any recommendations?"

"You can try the Huston Hotel in town, but I'd go out to the Ramada by the Interstate if it were me."

"Huston that bad?"

"Not really, but it can get noisy."

"I'll remember that."

They traveled the remaining miles in silence. She wondered what he was thinking. Had he driven all day just to stay at the Huston Hotel? Was he disappointed in her looks? She felt the urge to touch him, to make sure he was real, for she almost felt as if she had been dropped whole into one of his stories. Was she dreaming?

They pulled behind the Explorer, and she popped the trunk. Bubble lights flashing, she watched him fill the vehicle and place the can carefully in the back. Finished, he started the engine to make sure the battery wasn't dead. Motor running, he stepped out again.

"Mags," he said. "This wasn't exactly what I had imagined when I set out, but I appreciate your help."

"Get in your car and follow me," she said.

"What?"

"Follow me," she repeated. "You can't stay at the Huston Hotel."

"Wait."

She didn't wait. She marched to her car, slid behind the wheel, and put the cruiser in gear. Killing the lights, she pulled around the Explorer and roared away. She watched in her mirror as the Explorer lights came on, and the vehicle pulled out behind her. She smiled. She wasn't exactly sure what she had done, but she was glad she had done it. She told herself she was being hospitable. Southern hospitality demanded that she put him up for the night. Yet, some part of her wondered if the night might produce more than gentle snores and cascading moonlight. Some part of her yearned for more. Would that part be satisfied?

Mags led the short drive to her house, mindful of the headlights behind. As she neared her drive, she slowed, wondering if he would follow. She considered herself brave for telling him to follow, and he was brave for following. After all, they really didn't know each other. She had spoken to him often enough, flirted outrageously, but that wasn't a relationship. What kind of relationship could they have? As she waited at the bottom of her drive, she told herself not to expect too much. Fantasy was always more satisfying than reality. She couldn't funnel too much hope into his arrival.

She drove slowly up the drive to the dark house. She pulled into the garage and climbed out as he parked. He grabbed his bag out of the back and paused a moment to gaze at the moon, that wonderfully bright orb. 

"Come on," she called. "You want a beer?"

"Sounds wonderful," he answered.

"You'll have to excuse my house," she said as she pulled a Coors Light out of the refrigerator. "I didn't know you were coming."

"It looks great...as do you."

She smiled as she handed him the bottle. "You're just glad to have a place to sleep."

"Damn straight." He laughed. "I've slept in the Explorer before, and believe me, it's not my idea of posh."

His laugh was easy, and in the light, she noticed the gleam in his brown eyes, nice eyes. He twisted off the cap and handed the beer to her, taking the other from her hand. He twisted off the second cap and held out the bottle in a toast. 

"To Cutie Cop, the prettiest thing to ever pick me up."

She clicked her bottle and sipped, watching his face. He had an innocent face, without the deep lines of drug abuse or smoking. 

"That tastes very good," he said.

"Are you tired?" she asked. "That was a long drive."

"Sure, I'm tired. But I want to talk to you--if you don't mind."

"I was wondering if you wanted to soak in the tub for a few minutes. It does wonders for cricks and pains."

"I'd love it. But I didn't bring a suit."

"It's out in the dark," she said. "No need for a suit. Wait here."

She hurried to the hall and grabbed a beach towel from the linen closet. 

"Here." She tossed the towel. "Follow me."

The back yard glimmered in the moonlight, glistening with the first hint of dew. She marched across to the tub. He helped her pull back the cover. Punching the controls, the tub came alive, bubbling and seething with heat. 

"You can change inside," she said, leading him back to the kitchen. "I'll meet you out there."

She didn't wait for an answer but marched to her bedroom where she began to strip. Since she was a police officer, she maintained a precise discipline. She removed her weapon first and placed it in its box in the nightstand by the bed. Then, she unbuckled her belt and hung it on the peg in the closet, careful to make sure it was balanced. Then, she untied her shoes and placed them against the closet wall. Next, she unbuttoned her shirt. Most nights, she would remove all the insignia and badges, but she was in a hurry this night. She hung up the shirt, stripped off her kevlar vest, and hung it up also. Next came the T-shirt that kept the vest from chafing. Then, pants, the pockets of which she didn't bother to empty. Socks were tossed in the hamper, and she was reduced to athletic bra and boxers. She knew how she looked in the bra and boxers, and it wasn't exactly feminine. No lace or silk to charm anyone. In her line of work, utility and comfort were the only concerns. Bra and shorts joined socks in the hamper, and she stepped out of the closet. Grabbing a brush off the bureau, she pulled the rubber band off her ponytail and released her blonde hair.

This was usually the worst part of her day, those minutes before bed when she brushed the hair of her mirror image and rehashed her day, her life. The woman who looked back was small but busty, in wonderful shape. She could run a mile in under eight minutes, and she could bench press her weight. Her skin was taut yet soft, and her body hadn't yet felt the dire effects of gravity. Actually, her bras helped her, keeping her natural shape. Her thighs were lean and firm, her throat smooth. She wasn't in love with her hair which she found too stringy, but she liked her nose, her blue eyes. She knew she was an attractive woman. Half the men she arrested leered or made passes at her. That was another reason Indy seemed different. He hadn't made a crude joke about her chest. She finished her hair and took a last look in the mirror. God, her nipples were already rising. Luckily, it would be too dark to see in the tub. On the way out, she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body. She looked for her beer and discovered Indy had taken it out for her. Grabbing two more from the fridge, she stepped into the cool, wet grass.

He sat immersed in the hot water, bubbles rolling past his chin. She paused by the steps, placing the two extra beers.

"I brought yours." He waved a bottle at her.

"Thank you. Now, if you please....."

"Sure." He turned away, his gaze running down the hill to where the forest met her back yard. She dropped the towel and lightly stepped into the tub, sinking into the hot currents, facing him. 

"Now," she said.

He turned and handed her the bottle. "Is all this land yours?" he asked.

"Just down to the woods," she answered. "That's where the state park starts."

"Full of deer?"

"You wouldn't believe."

The beer tasted as good as any she had had in a long time. Something about his being there made her happy, almost giddy, a girl again. When was the last time a man had driven a hundred miles to see her? She didn't want to remember.

"This place is beautiful," he said.

"It's my bit of heaven," she answered. "Especially on nights like tonight. I love to sit out here and watch the stars."

"I like the moon," he said. "All the bubbles seem like mini-moons floating in the water. You could lose some time out here."

"It's nice out here even on cold nights," she said. "You get all hot and sweaty and then run for the house."

"I bet your tush gets cold."

She laughed. "Not me, I'm too fast."

"I want to thank you for taking me in," he said. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me."

"We serve and protect." She quoted the police motto. "But I should thank you. I don't often have company out here."

"That's hard to believe. I would imagine guys are parked in your drive every night. You're one pretty woman."

She hoped he couldn't see her blush. Yet, a thrill danced up her spine. She had wanted him to find her pretty, desirable. She wasn't quite sure why she wanted that, but she did.

"Can I ask you a question?" she started.

"Sure."

"Why did you drive all the way down here?"

He turned and gazed across the yard, into the forest where darkness oozed between the trees. "I don't really know how to explain it. I mean, I was sitting there, thinking about risk. I'm not really a big risk taker. I turn down more opportunities than I pursue. I guess I'm kind of a coward. But I knew I wanted to meet you, and the only way to do that was to take a risk. I've been scared a long enough. So, I hopped in my car and started driving. What did I have to lose, a day or two? Seemed like a fair trade."




To Serve and Protect



"But what if I had been lying? What if I was fifty and ugly and married to some foul mouthed redneck with two teeth and a mean temper?"

"Then, I would have lost nothing, would I?" He faced her. "I didn't have you while I hesitated. If you weren't what you advertised, I was out nothing but a false dream. You can't gain without risk, Mags."

"And I thought you were just being romantic."

"When you think about it, romance is mostly risk. You toss your heart into the ring, do some wonderfully stupid stuff, and pray the other person is touched."

"But romance doesn't often work out, does it?"

He sipped his beer. "Think about it. Think of the thousands of people you've met in your life. Start in pre-school and work forward, male and female. Out of those thousands, you've actually liked a few hundred--if you're lucky. Out of those few hundred, you've felt strongly about a handful." He held up his hand to show her. "Out of those, one, maybe two, you've actually loved. No, romance doesn't often work out. The failure rate is tremendous. There are a lot of psychologists who make a good living sorting through the failures, as if people were supposed to succeed often. If love were a business, we'd all go bankrupt." He laughed, a good laugh. "Any time you stretch you heart to make a connection, the odds are you will never make it. Fact of life. Should you stop stretching? I don't think so. You recognize the risk, the loss, and smile in the mirror."

His words carried a weight she had never felt before. If she concentrated on the words, he didn't sound much like a romantic. Yet, he had driven so far. 

"Am I worth the risk?" she asked.

"Let's look at it this way. If someone had suggested that I would be sipping beer in a hot tub with a beautiful blonde, I'd have driven down here months ago."

"You should have."

"I told you. I'm not a big risk taker."

"Why not? You seem to understand it so well."

"Give me your hand."

She hesitated only a moment before she reached out to him. He clasped her hand and held it.

"Think about this. You're alone and naked with a strange man in a swirling hot tub. No one knows he's here. He's bigger, stronger, and demonstrably unpredictable. If he wanted to harm you, what are the chances you could stop him?"

A queasy feeling erupted in her stomach. While she might be combat savvy on land, in the water, superior strength might prove telling.

"You're safe," he said. "I'm really a nice guy. But I think far too much. When I stop to consider all the ways my heart and body might be broken, I become paralyzed. I can't move. Neither can you."

She pulled herself across the tub and sat by his side, almost but not quite touching.

"How's that for risk taking," she laughed.

He laughed and sipped his beer. The moonlight cast shadows that rendered him even more handsome. He turned and smiled and slowly brought his face to hers, his lips finding hers. His kiss was gentle and tentative, far different from the kisses she had become accustomed to, those mashed lips and clicking teeth kisses of some guys. Despite the heat, a chill bubbled up her spine. 

"That was nice," she said.

"Delicious."

"Do you always kiss the cops who stop you?"

"If they were as pretty as you, I'd do a lot more than kiss."

"Like what?"

Her heart was beginning to beat faster. The romantic two-step had begun, that flirtatious dance of passion and desire. She smiled, waiting. He smiled, his eyes locked on hers. The moment of risk had arrived again. What would he do?

His face slowly approached hers. His lips found her, and her first taste of him reminded her of chlorine. She started to laugh, unable to control herself. One of the most romantic moments of her life had been reduced to pool water. 

"What?" he asked. "Something I said."

"Your lips," she managed to say. "They taste like chlorine."

He chuckled, and the chuckle grew into a laugh. "Chlorine," he said. "Well, I guess that's too damn bad."

She was amazed by his speed, the way he turned and took her hair and brought her lips to his. Despite the sheer power of the kiss, it was not hard, not the teeth rattling kiss some men planted on her. Firm, sensuous, the kiss sent an electric shock running the length of her body. She didn't know why, but the kiss was much more than a kiss. It was sheer energy, passion. She found herself eagerly returning the kiss, wanting to help him feel what she felt. Was it legal to feel so alive?

She sensed his hand before she felt it. His fingers displaced the water by her breast, sending currents dancing over her nipple and skin. The brief warning kept her from jumping when those fingertips brushed her nipple, making it tingle with need. As those magic fingers massaged her nipple and made it grow, she let her tongue brush against his teeth, feeling his mouth. French kissing had never been a big turn on for her, but for some reason, she wanted to explore his mouth, wanted his tongue to explore hers. The fire inside burned a little brighter. His hand seemed to draw her nipple from her breast, making it harder and longer than she could remember. How did he know she loved to have her breasts rubbed and stroked and touched? How did he know how sensitive her nipples were? How could he know?

The kiss broke, but his hand stayed on her breast, kneading, rearing. She took a sip of beer, but it couldn't douse the burning inside. 

"Like that?" he asked.

She nodded, unsure of her voice. If she tried to speak, she was afraid her voice would crack or simply not exist. His hand moved to her other breast, to the finger-starved nipple. She wondered if he could touch her all night, if she could orgasm beneath the stars as he treated her body like an altar. 

"You have beautiful breasts," he said. "I want to kiss them."

"Yessssssssss," she whispered.

He turned her and brought her around to sit on his lap, her upper body clear of the warm, swirling currents. As water dripped from her nipple, he caught the drops on his tongue, until a single drop hung like glass from her hard tip. His tongue moved slowly, delicately, until it touched the drop without touching the skin, and the drop slid into his mouth. She quivered. She had never had any man worship her breasts so. His tongue flicked her nipple, and she moaned. The tongue tip swirled and circled and tiptoed around her nipple, making it ache for more. She felt as if her nipples had swollen so tight they threatened to explode. So much blood surged through her breasts, the pain seemed unbearable. But the pain was utterly delicious, a throbbing she wished would never go away. 

His tongue was a kind of tease, a creature that began to ooze over her skin. Her skin was so engorged and sensitive that she swore she could feel every little bump and valley of that tongue. His tongue seemed like sandpaper, roughly making her gasp with delight. What was he doing? How could a tongue do that to her. She scooted closer to push her breast into his warm mouth, and for the first time she felt the shaft. Hard, thick, it brushed her hair, and a new thrill rushed through her. She felt a sudden urge to grab him and use him, but she resisted. She wanted this exquisite torture to last, to ferry her through the moonlight until dawn chased the stars from the sky. Shivering, reining in her desire, she let his mouth overwhelm her breast. A scream welled up in her throat. Pure joy sang like a soprano through her nerves. His lips and tongue and teeth formed a symphony that made her breast sing with fever. What was he doing? Why did she care? His mouth moved from one breast to the other. She moaned. She panted. She gripped the feeling with both hands and held on for sheer life. This was the passion she had sought through the years. And yet, as good as it was, she knew it was only beginning.

With a wonderful nibble he pulled back. "Lie back," he said. "I want you to float."

She leaned back, and he caught her, helping her float on the bubbles and currents. The water rushing along her back felt like creatures running over her skin. 

"Close your eyes."

She closed her eyes, feeling herself being split in half. The half in the water was warm and floating and stimulated. The half in the air felt cool, wafted by the night breeze. Her nipples sipped at the air. Her thighs radiated heat. She floated, his hand under her. She felt his other hand begin to splash water on her body. Not general splashing, specific splashing, shooting water across her nipples, sliding over her sensitive skin. The water heated her for an instant before slipping away and exposing her to the cool. The alternating hot and cold made her heart beat faster. Like a light being switched on and off, her body reacted to the changes, seeking to accommodate the water. The feeling was exotic, something she had never experienced before. Hot and cold and rocking, floating, almost without any weight at all. Bubbles nibbling at her skin, tribbles dancing across her back and legs. Warm water cascading over breasts and tummy and thighs. The feeling seeped into her pores, leaped across nerve endings, and soothed her.

She wasn't sure what happened next. She had no idea how he achieved the feeling. Perhaps the combination of alcohol, heat, cool, and attention created some chemical reaction in her brain. Perhaps her subconscious leaped to the forefront and commandeered her senses. She could never be sure. She could only be sure of the effect, what happened to her.

What she became aware of was the separation of her being. One moment, she was Mags, the cop, complete and glued together. The next moment, she felt herself sinking, collapsing in upon herself. The moon dimmed and disappeared. The stars winked out. The night sounds faded. For a moment, she was completely immersed in the dark, in the night. The feeling was eerie, and yet, she wasn't afraid. She felt safe and perhaps...liberated. Yes, she felt free, completely and utterly free. It was as if she had shed her cares with her body. No little nit nagged at her, no small pain. She existed in that between world, that world between waking and asleep. 

Then, before she could luxuriate in that between universe, she popped back into the night. Only, this time, she was no longer inside her body. By some defiance of time and space, she had popped out of herself. Instead of being locked inside, she was outside, floating, looking down at herself and him. She watched her body float, watched him splash hot water over her. Her body shivered even though she wasn't inside, and her nipples arched into the steam. His shoulders gleamed with sweat. His hair hung down across his face. She looked like a blonde angel, her hair spread out around her head. He was some dark haired god ministering to that angel. The most erotic scene she had ever witnessed, she watched, fascinated by it. Despite the fact she no longer had a body, her mind reveled in the scene. God, they were soooo sexy.

She floated, watching them, with them and yet apart. The feeling was unique and not frightening--until she thought about returning. How would she return to her body?

While the scene below seemed incredibly beautiful, it was something viewed, something watched, not something enjoyed. Watching brought limited satisfaction. She wanted to feel those hands and lips and tongue. She wanted to experience, and so, almost as if conscious, she willed herself back into her body, back into that floating altar where he worshiped. As if she had never been away, she found herself back in that body, feeling those swollen nipples that ached with need, the fire deep inside. The ache and need felt more delicious than the floating. God, she loved his touch.

"Don't move," he told her.

She floated as he moved away for a moment. Then, the air bubbles shifted into high gear, creating that foaming, churning bath that bouyed her, massaging her. 

"Like that?" he asked as he sucked her nipple.

"Yesssss."

With gentle slowness he pulled her to one side, testing the bubbles, positioning her body until a stream of rising bubbles caressed her bottom, slipping along the groove and up her front, a steady stream of erotic visitors to stimulate her most sensitive flesh. She quivered as the bubbles cavorted against her body, tiny effervescent messengers of pleasure. The stimulation began to build. That cavalcade of bubbles rubbed her incessantly. She had never found the bubbles so exciting before, so passionate. She let her legs drift apart to allow the bubbles full access, to let them twist along her folds. She watched him place his hand in the flow, directing the bubbles inside her. She wanted to scream. Those tiny air pearls penetrated, stimulated, felt alive inside her, roaming only to be released to bubble to the surface. The feeling was heavenly. She couldn't remember being so stimulated, so alive. She wanted to squirm, but she didn't dare. She wanted those tiny visitors to find her, use her. Her heart began to beat faster. Holding still required as much will power as she could muster. Desire mushroomed inside her; passion swelled. Every nerve and muscle wanted to move, but she couldn't. To move was to lose the delicate stream of hot bubbles. His lips and teeth raked her nipples. She suppressed her scream. The moon hung like a light overhead, and she concentrated on its beauty as her need soared. 

"Take me," she gasped. "Take me."

He stood, and she saw how excited he was, how hard. She wanted to touch him, but he pushed her hand away. With slow care, he moved around and between her legs. She spread for him, seeking him, her body still floating. Then, she felt him, his masculinity brushed her. Waves of heat and desire wafted through her. She felt her body open like a second mouth to suck in him. His hands found her bottom as he sank into her, as her greedy body devoured him. 

She had never known anything quite so sensual. She floated on the water while he gently stroked her, mingling bubble and heat and water inside her. The slapping sound excited her. The desire demonstrated by his body excited her. She felt her body clasp and unclasp, compressing the water around him, finding a heat she hadn't know possible. His hands kneaded her bottom. Her nipples, exposed to the air tingled with anticipation. The water inside her seemed to amplify his throbs. She sensed the pounding of his heart. 

Her orgasm was real and alive, and it pounced upon her quickly. Uncontrollable, it surged through her. 

"Oh god, now," she gasped. "Now!"

He didn't need urging. He was ready, more than ready. She clamped down like a vise as he shot bubbles of heat into her body, his chest shuddering with the effort. A muffled scream escaped her as her orgasm rushed to find his seed. She felt as if the thing were alive, greedy, hungry. It sought to feed on him, use him, own him. Like fireworks, it lit up the sky for a brief intense moment. It was the explosion of unexpected lust.



To Serve and Protect



I heard the shower go off and knew Zack was up. I grabbed a towel out of the linen cabinet in the hall, dropped my briefs in the hamper and wrapped the towel around my waist. I headed down the hall towards the bathroom when the water stopped.

**

Jason and I had had such a pleasant evening. While shopping we laughed and joked and played around. Then I supervised while he cooked. The look of pride and wonder on his face as he ate his own creation was funny and it filled me with a good, warm feeling. Even the silence by the fire was pleasant too. Then I went to bed and had another really hot dream in which I woke up with the last of my spasms spewing cum all over my belly. What he can do with his hands in my dreams has got to stop. In my dream, he had skimmed his hands over my body, from foot to shoulder over and over. Every square inch of my skin became sensitive to every little stimulus. The light breeze from the window, the almost butterfly light feeling of his body hair before his hands skimmed, and his warm breath on my skin had my writhing. No wonder I was coming all the time. As I lay there, I thought I heard a faint whirring sound. Then I caught on that it was a treadmill, the one in his office. I decided to get up and take a shower. I searched for a towel and hopped in the shower. I let the warm water pulse on my head, trying to clear the last vestiges of erotic dreams from my mind. While under the spray I realized how close I was to falling in love with Jason. It has always been my biggest fear of falling in love with someone who wouldn't or couldn't love me back. And I think a straight man probably couldn't return my feelings. Oh he might be curious and want to sleep with me, but I doubt if it would go any further.

I turned off the water and grabbed the towel off the shower curtain rod. I was drying my body off when I heard the door open. I opened the curtain and was drying my hair when I saw Jason walk in. He stopped and just froze. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him lose his towel. I continued to dry my hair, knowing that what I looked like didn't matter to him. I turned around when done to hang up the towel on the towel bar and turned to say good morning. I was absolutely shocked with what I saw. Jason is a little taller than I am. He is definitely stronger and heavier. He was sweaty. He had a tan and his chest was covered in straight, dark hair. It was so thick, in about a four-inch swath from mid sternum down to his privates, that you couldn't see the skin under it. The hair slowly thinned out as it trailed up to his shoulders but didn't go over them, into the dip of his armpits and at the end of his abdominal muscles. In a word: gorgeous.

He also had one of the most impressive erections I have ever seen. It was thick and long and so hard that it stood up at a greater than forty-five degree angle. Then I looked in his eyes. He was staring at my body. Then he looked in my eyes, he looked confused. If this were a gay guy, I would be in his arms and soon both of us would be calling in sick and fucking the day away. This was different. I grabbed the towel back and wrapped it around myself and walked by him to my bedroom. I quickly got dressed and decided to make some breakfast for the two of us, hoping, praying that things wouldn't become awkward. Last night had been so pleasant.

Jason came into the kitchen just as the toast popped up. He was wearing slacks and a white shirt. He had a jacket in his arms and he was trying to tie his tie. I placed the toast on the table along with the large cheese omelet and bacon as well as the carafe of coffee. I walked up to him and brushed his hands away from the mess he was making of the tie. I pulled it apart and tied it for him, concentrating on the knot and the length of the ends. I didn't realize that Jason had stopped breathing. His shirt was wrinkled as if he had just pulled it out of the laundry; same with the pants. I finished and looked up at Jason with a smile. I froze. He looked at me and the look was hungry. It was also really confused. I swallowed hard then moved back, telling Jason to sit and eat. We did, in strained silence, both of us avoiding the others' eyes. He got up and said he would probably be late tonight and walked out. I think I finally took my first deep breath since I had finished with his tie.

I spent the day doing what I always do when I'm confused and working out a problem. I cleaned. I organized. I found a huge mound of clean laundry in the laundry room. I folded it all except for what needed to be hung. He wore white crew socks. He had several white t-shirts. He wore basically the same outfit all the time, a white dress shirt and tie with slacks of black, navy, tan, or slate gray. He also wore white knit cotton boxers. But he also had a large quantity of low-cut briefs. They were the simple three for $10 you can find at any department store. I really wish I could see him in them. He probably wore them for working out. With those low hanging, huge balls and elephant trunk cock, he would need that support. Okay, I need to stop this. I placed all the folded laundry on Jason's bed then went to find an iron and ironing board. Then I tackled every dress shirt he had and every pair of slacks. I even went into his closet and grabbed every tie he had. I pressed them all. It took three hours and my back was sore when I was done, but I wasn't thinking so much about Jason anymore. I put all the hangars up in his closet and then attacked his shoes with polish and rag until they sparkled. When that was done, I reorganized his cabinets, refolding sheets and towels so they fit better in the linen closet. Then I stripped the beds and changed the bedding. I dusted and vacuumed. I felt like a damn fool for being so wound up like a horny teenager. But I was. I really wanted something to happen between Detective Jason and myself.

**

I was driving home from work after a fruitless and frustrating day. I couldn't concentrate, which was just as well nothing came of all the countless interviews we did with Matthew's faculty colleagues and Zack's neighbors. I couldn't get it out of my head. The feel of his hands on my neck and chest while he was tying my tie had electrified me. I also couldn't get the image of his naked body in the shower out either. He had a nice wedge of curly, golden hair on his chest that ran from the hollow of his shoulders to mid sternum. Then he had a trail from around his navel down until it swirled and thickened around his cock. And that was another interesting thing. I have been naked with other men countless times. But that was the first time I noticed another guy's equipment. I found myself wondering what it would be like to touch and taste, what it would look like hard and then what it would feel like pressed against my belly as I thrust into him and what it would feel like hard and steely inside me. Then I had stood in front of him with one of the hardest, steeliest erections I have ever had.

I felt like a jerk. I was also so damn confused. This isn't me. I've slept with fifteen different women in my life. What the hell is this? Okay, so I haven't slept with anyone in the two years since my divorce. Okay, so I can't deny the undeniable connection I feel whenever I even think about Zack. But I'm not gay. I'm curious. I never gave it a thought before, but I can't deny that two nights of extremely hot dreams had me horny enough to try just about anything. But it wouldn't be fair to Zack. He could get hurt because I was only curious and didn't want anything more. Not that I wanted anything more. Not really. Not much.

I was still telling myself why this disturbing attraction wasn't what I wanted when I got home. I walked inside and smelled something heavenly. I stood in the kitchen and looked in the oven and the pots on the stove. There was a beef stew bubbling gently on the burner and fresh bread baking. The counters were clear and none of the preparation dishes were in the sink. I walked through the house, noticing a candle burning on the table in the living room. I went into the laundry room and saw the pile empty. I walked into my room to change and found a stack of folded laundry on the bed, much less than what I had washed. I opened the closets and found all my shirts and slacks hanging, pressed perfectly. Then I noticed the bedding was changed. Hell, I never even make my bed. I walked further down the hall, looking for Zack. I found him in his room at the desk, bent over his laptop, typing away. He had glasses on and his hair was mussed from where he had run his fingers through it. I felt something shift in my chest and I slowly began to realize that perhaps I did want more. For once when I came home, it actually felt just like that, a home.

"What have you been doing all day, Zack?"

I startled him. He threw down his glasses and smiled at me. Then he blushed. "I'm sorry. I needed something to do. I guess it got out of hand. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'm impressed."

"How about dinner?"

"Let me change first."

I turned and went down the hall. As I changed my clothes, I kept thinking about how much fun I've had the last couple of days. Then I realized that I've been having more fun than I do with almost anyone else, even Martin who I think of as a brother. Then I thought about dinner and what would happen after. Nothing! I won't let it. But it's going to be a long night.

**

We ate a strained dinner. Conversation was forced and uncomfortable. I wanted to reach out and smooth the frown line between his eyebrows. The tension was strong. We hadn't had this before. I knew what it was but he was going to have to make the first move. To be truthful, I was tired of fighting it. Three long nights of erotic dreams that only partially gave me the release I craved wasn't going to cut it. It had been over eighteen months since Matthew left me. I had stayed alone that whole time. I didn't realize until now how ready I was to move on. Maybe it took his death to allow me to move forward. But it probably had more to do with Jason. He was beautiful. And thanks to the shower scene, I knew he was incredibly well made.

Dinner was soon over. We had simply stopped trying to talk and just let the silence sit. It wasn't uncomfortable. At this moment I realized that for the rest of my life I could look across a table at him and be content. I could sit and listen about his day and know he would listen just as interestedly at mine. I'm afraid I went ahead and fell in love with him anyway. The moment made me light headed. I stood and cleared away the dishes. He offered to help and I declined. He went into his room and I heard him walk down the hall to his office. He was going to work out. I finished up with the kitchen then walked down to my room and sat at my laptop again. I half worked and half waited to see if he would come to me.

I heard the clinking of the weights for a bit then I heard the whirring of the treadmill. He jogged on that thing for a good half hour. Then I heard it stop. I gave up any pretense of working. I held my breath as I heard his footsteps moving down the hall. He walked past my closed door and moved into his own room, and then I heard him walk into the bathroom and the shower start. I started breathing again. I typed a few more lines of code into the program I was working on. Then I heard the shower stop. A few minutes later, he appeared at my door wearing a towel slung low on his hips. I looked up at him.

"What do you need, Jason?"

"I need... I want... I don't know."

"Tell me. What do you want?"

"This is crazy. I shouldn't be here."

"What do you want?"

"Send me away Zack."

"What do you want?"

"Zack..."

"What do you want?"

He swallowed hard. "I want you to suck my dick."

I stood and walked towards him. He had beads of water on his shoulders. The hair on his chest was straight and thick and still had a few water droplets in it. I don't think I have ever been more aroused, or more nervous. I took his hand and led him towards the bed. I pushed him back when his knees hit the bed and he landed on the mattress. I pulled the towel away from him. He was already hard. I knelt at the edge of the bed and trailed my hands along his thighs. All the soft hair on his legs and warm skin made me shudder. I kissed his inner thigh about halfway up. Then I trailed my tongue along the skin, feeling the hair pull slightly. I moved higher and higher, nipping and kissing his skin. I moved up until my nose nestled against his scrotum. Then I nipped at the skin below his testicles. Jason moaned at the contact. I nuzzled his balls and kissed the sensitive skin. Then I moved up his shaft with my tongue, twirling and lapping with equal finesse. Before I took him in my mouth, I nipped at the flared ridge, running my tongue around it. And then I took the head into my mouth, wringing it with my tongue, swirling it around and around the flare of the salty, leaking tip. Each lap had him groaning, each bob of my mouth had him moan. Then I moved down and took him entirely down to my throat. Each deep push had him raising his shoulders off the bed and crying out. I looked up at him while moving on him, wringing pleasure from him. A rosy flush has spread across his chest and cheeks. His stomach muscles had tightened and each swirl of pleasure had him lifting and arching off the bed. I moved on him for many minutes, feeling him tense and stiffen further in my mouth. Then he almost sat completely up and cried out while spurting into my mouth. Each spasm of his release had him twitching hard against my tongue, as I tasted his semen. He was thick and sweet and I never wanted it to end. But all good things do. He collapsed back on the mattress with a satisfied sigh, spent and limp. I cleaned him up a bit then let him fall from my mouth against his hip.

I had unzipped and was fisting my cock. I was close, but I slowed down, remembering every moment of having him in my mouth. Then I felt Jason's hands on my arms. He was pulling me up. He pushed me down on the mattress, pulling off my shirt as he went. Then he unbuckled my belt and pushed my pants and underwear off. He grabbed my socks at the last minute so I lay in front of him naked. I was so hard and I started to ache because he had pulled my hand away from my cock. He was lying on his side, and he was looking at my erection. He seemed to hover over me, trying to decide what to do. Then he slowly moved down and licked at me tentatively. I almost came. Then he continued to lick at my head. He lapped it like an ice cream cone. It was heaven, but it wasn't enough. I wanted to grab his head and push him down. I wanted to yell and let him know that it wasn't some clit he needed to lap at. I wanted him to take me in his mouth and help me trip. Instead he kept building me up, aggravating an already aroused situation. Then the most wonderful thing happened: he took me in his mouth. He moved up and down, tentatively and slowly. I built; I twitched. I felt my whole body tighten. I kept thrashing my legs; I gripped the sheets below me and tried to hang on. Then the build up was too much and I felt the end start. I came hard, spurting deeply down his throat. He choked and pulled away. I kept spurting, it hit my belly and I kept crying out. When the last of my release left me, I completely relaxed and fell back on the sheets and grinned.

"What is that look for?"

"I'm just amazed."

"About what?"

"I never thought you would reciprocate."

"I have to admit I was curious."

"And what did you think?"

"Not bad." Then we both started laughing. Jason looked in my eyes and the smile faded. I really wanted him to kiss me. But it didn't happen. 

"Look, Zack. I know I'm asking a lot. But, do you think maybe we could..."

"You want inside, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Okay"

I reached out and stroked Jason until he was standing hard. Then I kneeled on all fours, and Jason stood behind me. His hands gripped my hips and it was a tender gesture. He didn't drive right in, but moved slowly, rubbing himself back and forth along my hole. He was leaking against me. His thumbs rubbed back and forth against my ass as he pushed forward. It was a tight fit; it had been a long time for me. But he was slow and gentle. He kept moving forward in slight pulses, rocking into me infinitely slowly. Then he was seated in me and I felt myself swell. He rocked out then pushed back and I exploded. My arms collapsed under me and I cried out. I was still dribbling in tired spasms when Jason pulled out and flipped me onto my back. He knelt between my legs and braced himself on his left arm, cupped below my shoulder. He used his free hand to guide himself back to me. When he was inside me completely, he stayed in place, lowering his chest to rest lightly on mine. He moved his hand up to stroke my chest.

"You're trembling, Jason."

He smiled at me and cupped my face. "So are you."

Then he started to move. I felt every steely, veined inch of his shaft as it brushed back and forth across my ring. His satiny tip kept bumping into my prostate. I was really hard still. I normally can only manage to cum once or twice, but at this rate, it could be all night. I watched everything he was feeling mirrored on his face, in his eyes. They were dilated and glassy. His breath got short and his nipples brushed against mine as he continued his silky glide. I could tell he was close. I felt the muscles on his belly tighten. His motions became less smooth and more forceful. His pleasured gasps became low moans. God I loved him. I felt the end approaching. His moans became heated growls and animalistic cries. I felt him thicken, stretching me tighter. Then he hit my prostate ten times in rapid, hard thrusts making me clench and spurt against his hairy belly. Just as I felt myself come down, relax from the waves crashing through me, Jason erupted, crying out his pleasure and driving into me hard. After I felt his cock twitch one last time, he collapsed against me, burying his nose in the hollow between my neck and shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him, stroking his back lightly. We fell asleep like that.

I awoke some time later to find Jason rolling off of me. He stood up and I braced my arms up and was about to ask what was going on. He put his hand over my mouth and whispered that he heard something. He snuck down the hall to his room. I got out of bed and pulled on some jeans and my t-shirt. I was getting ready to follow him into the dark hall when I was grabbed from behind.

"I think you should stay here."

I turned to see a man I had never seen before. He was younger and his clothes looked a bit rumpled, as if he hadn't changed in awhile. He also looked absolutely insane. A fact proven by the long, mean knife he held in one hand and the gun in the other. "Who are you?"

"Sit on the bed and shut up. We will wait here for the slut cop."

I sat and prayed that Jason would stay away or else find out what was going on. But he had me sitting in full view of the door and the mystery man hid in the shadows. Jason came back into the hall. He had pulled on his jeans and had his gun. I tried to make him stay away. I willed that he would get the panic in my eyes and stay. But he didn't. He headed straight towards me.

"Zack. Are you okay? What's wrong?"

He said it as he came in the room and was hit in the back of the head by the mystery man. He slumped to the floor. He was dazed, but he didn't go out. Then he tackled the guy around the legs. He went down but not before slashing Jason's arm. Blood welled out and he dropped his gun. I picked it up, but the assailant knocked it out of my hand. Then he backhanded me. He turned and raised his gun to shoot Jason. I didn't think; I just leapt. I heard an explosion just an instant before my back felt like it was on fire. I collapsed onto Jason. Just then the lights in the room came on and two uniformed officers broke in the room and shot the mystery man in the arm. I rolled over so my head was in Jason's lap. I was only vaguely aware of the police arresting the man. Jason demanded an ambulance before cupping my face. He kept chanting my name. I pulled his head closer. I knew I was blacking out. I whispered the truth to him, in case I would never have the chance again. "I love you."




To Serve and Protect



**

Martin arrived just as I got out of the exam room. They stitched up my arm and he rode with me up to the surgery wing, waiting for word. Martin gave me a run down on the asshole shooter. Apparently, he was the son of the dean at the college where Matthew taught. He seduced Matthew and blackmailed him to keep the affair going. He then talked him into dumping Zack and moving in with him. When Matthew made noise about leaving and going back to Zack, he came up with the bomb. Matthew told him he was leaving and in a rage, stabbed him. He left with the bomb and planted it in Zack's car. When he didn't die, he followed me to my house after we interviewed him and waited for us to be asleep.

Martin was a pal; he brought me a shirt and waited while I paced in the waiting room. He didn't ask, he didn't question: he was just my good friend. All the while I paced, I kept thinking of Zack's last words: "I love you." It kept going through my head. I kept remembering the wonderful evening we shared. I have never known such incredible connection before. I had only meant to say goodnight. I didn't mean to ask him to suck me off. I certainly didn't plan to return the favor. But at that moment, still shaking from the most amazing orgasm of my life, it just felt right to take him in my mouth. I had just planned to fuck him from behind. If I didn't see his face, I wouldn't be connected. But feeling him cum around me, I wanted to see him. That moment of connection, watching his face as I pushed into him was the best moment of my life. The truth is, in just a couple of days, what he said was true. I loved him. I was confused, I was scared, but I was also guilty. I didn't save him; he saved me. If he had shot me instead of Zack, I would be dead now. To protect and to serve is any cop's motto. Boy I sure failed there.

The surgeon came out and told us that he would stay in ICU for a few days, but should recover. I actually broke down right there. Martin got a hold of me and took me someplace private. He didn't ask, which I am grateful for. I pulled rank once I calmed down and sat down in his room. I got up to get a cup of coffee or answer nature's call. But I didn't leave him. Not for almost forty-eight hours. Then he opened his eyes. At that moment I was overwhelmed, so grateful he was awake. I was also never more ashamed. Ashamed of the way I had treated him and ashamed at how I had failed him. His eyes were open for just a minute, but he smiled at me. Then he drifted off to sleep. I left the hospital, looking for answers to the bombing, the murder, and everything else. Call me a coward, but I left.

**

I awoke in the hospital. I was expecting to see Jason. I had opened my eyes once and saw him. He looked tired. But I have never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life. But he wasn't in my room. I drifted in and out for a few hours. I awoke late in the afternoon to see Martin sitting by my bed. He told me everything. Who the man was, what he was doing, and why he tried so hard to kill me. It all made sense. It wouldn't have changed anything, but it was good to know why Matthew left. The last piece of my old life fell into place and I was ready to move on. I know I probably shocked him, but what I told Jason was the truth. I loved him.

Over the next couple of days, Martin came to see me often. It's funny, but we actually became rather good friends. But Jason wasn't there. Slowly I came to realize that all my worst fears were true. Jason could be curious, but not love me. He didn't stop by once. Eight days after I entered the hospital, they were ready to send me home. Martin actually came by and drove me. When I got home, Martin went to the trunk and got out my suitcase and laptop from Jason's house. I guess that answered that. I didn't realize how transparent my facial expression was until Martin cupped my shoulder after setting my bags down. He helped me get settled, lying down on my bed. He set the phone near and was getting ready to leave.

"I promised myself I wouldn't ask, Zack. But I can't seem to help myself."

"You want to know if Jason and I..."

"Yeah. I guess I do."

"Yes. The night of the shooting."

"I see."

"You disappointed? Upset?"

"You don't understand. I saw the way you looked at him when we showed up at your door. The thing is, he was just as sunk as you were. Reminds me of when my wife and I met."

I actually smiled. "What happened?"

"I was this anal, stuffy kid. I couldn't relax if you gave me ten Valium. I would enter a room and immediately rearrange the shelves. She just looked at me and me her. She understood me. She took my neuroses and loved me for them. We got married three days after we met. Just one look, that's all it takes."

I felt tears well in my eyes. He understood. Even though it was one sided, Martin understood. "I'm glad it worked out for you, Martin."

"Don't be so sure it won't for you. He's dealing with a little guilt right now."

"Why?"

"Now you would have to understand alpha cops. The psychology is macho and boring. He feels like he let you down. Like he couldn't protect you. He just needs time."

"There are a few more obstacles Martin."

"Don't doubt. Call me if you need anything."

With that he was gone. I rested the rest of the day. Then I took a shower and started working. I had eight days to catch up on. Work actually helped. I got through a whole pile of it. I did so much that I completed three projects two weeks early. It helped. All right, it didn't help, but it kept me from losing my mind. I had been out of the hospital for a week and he still hadn't even called. I got angry, really angry and mean. I cursed him six ways until Sunday. But it didn't help. I missed him. I would lie awake at night, hard with wanting him, dreaming about him when I could sleep. I kept myself from asking Martin about him when he would come by. But I still loved him.

After two weeks, I started to go back to work. One day when I got home, I spotted a familiar car in my driveway. Jason. I walked up to my door and he opened it and pulled me inside.

**

Oh God, I had missed him. I had listened daily to Martin's lectures. But it wasn't until I was sitting at home last night and I found myself chopping vegetables for a new recipe I found in a cookbook and how much I wanted Zack to watch and joke with me that I knew that I had to be with him. Nothing else mattered: not my failure, not my job, not the whole gay-straight thing, nothing.

I pulled him inside, hungry for the sight of him. I looked in his eyes and just melted. I loved him, that simple. He was smiling at me. I saw the love in his eyes and I knew how stupid I had been by staying away. Then he masked his emotions and I knew I had hurt him, deeply.

"Why are you here Jason?"

"I've missed you. God, I have. I want to fuck you so bad."

I watched as hurt clouded his eyes. Then he blinked it away and nodded. He held out his hand to me. Oh no, he thought I was just here for sex. And he loved me enough to swallow what he needed and give me what I asked for. If I hadn't loved him before, I would have fallen right then. I took his hand and he led me to his bedroom. He turned to unbutton my shirt and I took his hands. I pulled him close. I cupped both of his cheeks with my hands and ran my thumbs under his eyes. Then I lowered my lips to his and brushed them over his; just a simple kiss. Then I deepened the contact, open lips, closed mouth. Then I tentatively touched my tongue to his lip. I traced his lips with my tongue. Then I moved forward and completely claimed his mouth, brushing his tongue over and over with mine. It was one of the simplest but also the most erotic kiss of my life. I was so hard and I pulled his hips against mine, grinding myself into him. He was hard too and I felt him duel with me. Jeans and underwear separated us, confined us, but we were connecting. I pulled away from his mouth and pulled at his clothing until he stood before me naked. Then I dropped my clothes and stood before him hard and ready. But somehow the hurt hadn't quite left his eyes. I would give anything to get it to go away. And I knew just what to give.

I pushed Zack down on the bed and followed him. My chest pressed against his and our cocks dueled. Then I flipped us over so he rested on top of me. I started kissing him again. It was a strange turn of events, but I found my home. I was more satisfied with one kiss than I had been over the past four years with and without my wife. Maybe I wanted this all along, maybe I was gay from the beginning, but I don't think so. I think I just wanted Zack more than I wanted to spend my life with anyone else. I pulled away from the kiss and cupped his face again.

"I want you to fuck me. I want you inside me."

"You don't have to Jason. Really."

"Yes I do. I want you to. Please."

He nodded then got up and opened his drawer by the bed. He grabbed a bottle of something and told me that it would be necessary. Then he flipped me over on my stomach. He pulled me up on my hands and knees then started caressing my ass. I felt him kiss each cheek then lick along my crack. When he hit my hole I almost collapsed. I reached down to grab my cock. But he took my hands in one of his and kept me away from my dick. Then he started lapping away at me. I felt him lick and suck and nibble at my ring. I was in agony; the pleasure was too great. I kept squirming. I was biting the pillow below me. I kept feeling myself loosen. Each time I opened a bit more, he moved in deeper. My thighs were trembling and I collapsed against the bed. I was so hard and just wanted to hump against the mattress, just to relieve the pressure. But he pushed me down and kept me still. I was writhing on the bed. I have never felt anything so incredible. I was begging and pleading for Zack to end it. I was on edge and needed to trip.

Zack flipped me over. He grabbed the bottle and squeezed some of the liquid on his fingers. Then he applied them to me and rubbed around my sensitized hole. Then I felt him enter me. I squirmed at the blunt entry, but it didn't hurt. Then he coated his cock until it was dripping with lube before lowering between my legs. He lowered to my chest and guided his dripping tool to my hole. He kissed me lightly before pushing forward. He had worked me well, but this was brand new territory for me. I winced and then cried out as the head breached me.

"It's okay baby. I know. It'll be better in a minute."

He kissed me deeper and then rested his chest completely on me and grabbed my cock. He started stroking me fast, until I was hard again. I didn't realize it at first, but he was pushing forward as he stroked me. When he was seated, he let go of my mouth. He flexed his cock inside me and brushed something deeply inside. I cried out and squeezed him hard. He shuddered then started thrusting into me. I felt him move, accepting him. I was in awe at the new sensations. I had never known such fullness. He kept moving inside me, trying to remain gentle, but he was losing the battle. I decided then and there that it didn't matter how gentle he was with me; I would take it. I kissed him hard and told him not to hold back. It was all it took and he gripped my hips hard and started pounding into me. It was even better than before. He kept pushing into me, probably my prostate. But it was too much. I exploded against his belly. When he felt me squeeze him in release, he shuddered but somehow kept from tripping. He started pounding into me harder and faster. The hair on his belly, that wonderful silky trail was grazing against the head of my still hard cock. His movement forced my cock to be wedged between our bellies. My coarser hair was sending needles of pleasure through my penis while his soft ones sent a gentle caress. I was tripping again. It was less than two minutes later and I was shooting again, this time taking Zack with me. 

When his spasms stopped, he collapsed on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him, cradling his head to my chest and savored being close to him. Zack didn't know it yet, but he was moving in with me. We were going to share my house and sleep in each other's arms each night. I loved him and he was going to stay with me. It wasn't going to be easy, but we would work on it. That's all that matters. When he had recovered a little, he nuzzled my chest with his nose.

"Zack?"

"Yes Jason?"

"I love you."

That's all that really needed to be said.



To Serve and Protect Back to School



(This is the latest of our epic I would appreciate any comments you have it the only way we can make you happy with our writing thank you)

It had been 3 months since Pat had been transferred to the Sheriff's Department Training Division.

Pat and Mike anxiously awaited the arrival of their good friend Linda for the Academy's graduation exercises.

"Linda over here." shouted Mike as she entered the auditorium. The three friends hugged each other warmly. 

"God, Pat you look wonderful, you’re hardly showing at all!” Exclaimed Linda. The trio made their way to the seats being held by Carol and Stephanie, Mike's daughters.

Linda whispered to Mike. "Does she have any idea what's going on today?" Smiling, Mike just nodded. The proceeding seemed to drag on; finally, the cadets were called up to receive their diplomas.

The Sheriff than announced that one final award was to be given, and introduced Lt. Shannon to present it. As Linda made her way to the podium Mike grinned like the Cheshire cat, whispering to Pat "How I sure enjoy seeing the top brass having to snap to whenever Linda wears that little medal around her neck."

"I'm going to make this short. I know how much you rookies and one family want to celebrate." announced Linda. "So I would like to present the Department's third highest award for bravery, the Legion of Merit, to a very dear friend and one of the finest Officers I have served with." Letting her voice trail off, before shouting,” Sergeant Patricia Gibson." Lt. Shannon removed the bronze medal hanging from its blue ribbon from the presentation case and as Sgt. Gibson stepped up in front of her the lieutenant pinned it to her left breast pocket, stood at attention and crisply saluted. Linda then stepped aside to allow Sgt. Gibson to bask in her deserved accolades.

The Gibson’s and Linda sat at a smaller table at the graduation party. Linda leaned to Pat and said “Looks like one of your rookies is lost." 

Pat laughed “Officer Adams, she was the honor cadet this year you know. Two seats over here," called Pat.

Officer Adams introduced her mother to the group of senior Officers and soon they were chatting and laughing like old friends. All was going well. Sue Adams was on a cloud being surrounded by two of the departments most decorated and revered Officers. Then she asked Linda about the Medal of Valor. "I prefer not to talk about it," Linda simply said. Sue persisted in asking Linda, even though the senior officer was showing signs of irritation." Let it go rookie you don't need to know." said the annoyed lieutenant. 

"It’s just that it’s awarded so rarely it must have been something spectacular,” blurted out the young Officer. 

"YOU THINK SO." screamed Linda her eyes narrowing.” Let’s hope you never have to live with it!" tossing her napkin to the table the lieutenant stormed towards the bar. 

As Pat stood Mike said "Let her go they will help her." Mike pointed to the 7 remaining officers who were present that night, huddling around Linda.

"Bitch!" said Adams. "I was." 

Mike cut her off, "SIT DOWN, I'll explain, Even with Linda's cover being compromised it should have gone easy," Mike paused. His voice shaking as he remembered the events of that night. "We got all but two; Linda and I chased them into a divided alleyway." "Linda went left, I took the right, I made a mistake not one of you rookies would I could see to the end of the alley and holstered my weapon." taking a deep breath he continued,” next thing I know I'm looking at two goons with guns pointed at me I just knew it was over right than and there." "Than I heard Linda shouting "Police Officer" throw down your weapons and put you hands where I can see them.” They turned with their guns still drawn Linda shot and killed them both." "A bitch, Adams? Hardly. You didn't hold her while she cried and retched after she realized what she had just done."

Linda hanging her head sheepishly returned to the table apologizing to Sue and her mother, turning to Patti her friend's bottom lip quivering as she hugged Linda "Thank you" was all she said.

A few weeks later a soft knock came on the lieutenant's door as Carol Gibson poked her head into her office. "Aunt Linda err, I mean Lieutenant Shannon may I see you please?" 

"Sure honey why so formal?” asked Linda. 

"Linda it's about my boyfriend, he said he got these free at a dance we went to." Carol passed two small pills to the lieutenant. 

"Hmmmm, ecstasy.” Linda carefully tagged the pills as evidence."Aaahh, Carol you did tell Mom and Dad about this didn't you?" handing the young girl a form to sign. Carol shook her head. Linda smiled, "Trust them Carol I do."

The next day found Lieutenant Shannon rummaging thru personnel files of the newest rookie officers. She carefully checked and rechecked the files seeking out a rookie who was; smart, and could think quickly on his or her feet, and finally young enough to interact with high school students as a student teacher. "I take it you're searching for another rookie for your team, Lieutenant." 

Linda's head jerked up to find Captain Saddler standing over her. "Rookies aren't known yet on the streets Captain." She replied.

"Linda while I have you here, you know Captain Edwards is retiring in three months?" Asked the Captain. "Narcotics will be looking for a new division commander." 

"And what does all this have to do with me?" asked Linda, knowing full well what he was getting at. 

“Linda your record is exemplary and you have the respect of every Officer in the department something a division commander needs and besides that you've been recommended."

Linda shook her head and smiled.” I’m a street Officer Captain. Right now I'm happy at just commanding the strike force."

Linda signed for the 2 files, rookie Officers Sue Adams and Josh Crane. She than spoke to the Officer’s field training partners. On her way to her office she stopped to see an old friend her own former field training partner when she was a rookie, now the division's desk sergeant. "Harry what's the word on these two?" Linda quizzed as she brought coffee for them both. 

"Crane's a good man listens well but doesn't think much on his own. This one though." Harry paused taking a sip of his coffee. "Well she kind of reminds me of another rookie come through here, know it all always trying to improve the way things were done real pain in my ass, Ma'am." 

"Thanks Harry have Officer Adams report to my office at end of watch will you please?" "Oh, and Harry. You call me Ma'am again and you'll retire walking a beat." Linda said desperately trying to keep a straight face.

Linda was busy filing reports when Officer Adams knocked on her door. "Come in, Sue. Shut the door behind you and take a seat." ordered Linda. Linda watched as Sue slid into the chair in front of her desk, adjusting her uniform skirt. "Officer Adams I want you to think carefully about what I'm about to ask you to do." The Lieutenant's voice was deadly serious. "What I need is a new face to do some undercover work." She paused a minute, her eyes searching Sue's sparkling blue eyes. "Talk it over with your parents first. I see you still live with them." "Than let me know what you decide.” 

"Yes lieutenant, and thank you." Sue answered. Linda grinned as her eyes were again drawn to the perky young blonde as she left her office.

Two nights later Linda sat watching the news, when the doorbell rang it was Sue Adams. "Excuse the hour but I've made my decision I want to try." said the shapely young officer. 

"Come in." Linda invited. "I was just going to make some tea would you like a cup?" Linda asked her eyes scanning the lovely officer. Sue was about an inch taller than her, with much fuller breasts and hips. Her long blond hair hung neatly in a ponytail, and a set of crystal blue eyes that seemed to draw you helplessly to them. Linda returned with the tea setting the server down on the coffee table. Sue had been checking out old pictures.

"Ballet I see." Sue said in a hauntingly seductive voice. "You look cute there as the Swan Princess." 

"Sue, you can be so annoying at times!" Linda exclaimed. 

Sue smirked "Why? Because I know what I like?" Not giving Linda a chance to answer she pressed her tender lips against Linda's. As she broke the kiss Linda's eyes were transfixed by Sue's sparkling blue one's. Trying to answer Sue again drew Linda's yielding body to hers this time her tongue actively searching the warm depths of Linda's mouth. One arm supporting Linda's back, as her other hand slowly undid the tie wrap of her robe. Linda let out a soft moan as two of Sue's slim fingers gently penetrated her swollen lips. Her knees weakened as Sue curled her fingers into a J, rubbing the smooth spongy mass of tissue on Linda's upper wall. Sue added more pressure as she massaged in and out and from side to side, her thumb circling the older woman's distended clit as Linda's body bent back loud moans of pleasure filling the air. Linda's body seemed to become an extension of Sue's questing fingers surrendering to them till a great wave ripped through her feeling her own sweet nectar running slowly down her thighs leaving her gasping in Sue's arms.

Leading the still trembling Linda to her own bedroom Sue seductively undressed, drawing the smitten woman's face to her firm breasts. Linda gently sucked and licked each, Sue's deep moans urging her on. Linda went to her knees, softly pressing her tongue through the neatly trimmed blonde curls surrounding Sue's aromatic womanhood. Sue's hands on either side of Linda's head guided her tongue as it tenderly ran over her swollen clitoris. Before Linda pointed her tongue wiggling it deeply inside as Sue rolled and thrust her hips out to meet Linda's tongue, sending Sue into a fury of spamming joy. Looking down, Sue could see both the need and hunger that filled Linda's bright green eyes. Linda on the other hand felt a gentle submissive glow only once before been brought out by a woman and never by any man. Now as Sue slipped seductively into the older woman's satin sheeted bed, Linda knelt down softly beside Sue, her warm breath on the gentle curve of Sue's hip. Linda's fingertips and nails teased feather-light over Sue's trim hard body, her tongue caressing the Goosebumps rising on the young woman's flesh. A feeling of love sweeping through her that Linda had not felt in years began to burn into her tummy, spreading out through her as her lips softly covered Sue's in a passionate kiss. Soon soft smooth flesh softly rubbed against the other's freely. Aromatic juices mingled with each other's as the two women became lost in the blissful state that only two women together can know. Moans of pleasure filling the cool night air as they gently caressed and rubbed together. Shivers built and fell between them as suddenly Sue's now lust filled eyes began to roll back into her head, her shuddering orgasm and gasps where all that Linda needed to feel as her own wonderful spasms spread through her. The two women curled up arms and legs intertwined as sleep gently over took them both.

The next morning Linda awoke to find Sue standing there holding a tray filled with sliced fruit and fresh tea. Sitting beside Linda the two laughed and fed each other till it was time to go to work.

The next day Sue was being transformed into Joy Hastings a college senior majoring in teaching. Under Linda's careful eye, Sue dressed conservatively enough not to draw suspicions from the faculty or parents but just sexy enough to hold the boys interests.

Joy began to teach her classes warming to the boys, it had been rumored had been involved with the free distribution and then sale of the drugs. Sue's charm and self-assured nature soon had her easily making purchases from the group. Within weeks she had wrangled one of the boys into allowing her to buy enough for her "sorority sisters".

Going to the apartment, she called Linda telling her this weekend to review the tapes of her wire. And what she was able to find out about the drop off of a new shipment this Monday.

It was a bright Saturday morning when Sue brought her evidence to Linda's home. Sue also had noticed the way Linda had submitted to her previously sexually. The shapely Officer had packed a very special outfit just for Linda.

Sue knocked on Linda's door. The Lieutenant let her in, taking the files and envelopes of tagged pills and recording tapes Sue had made from her wire. "Linda I'm going to change while you check my files.” smiled the stunning young officer. As Sue changed in the bathroom an instant of fear gripped her, what if she was mistaken? Linda was easily the best woman in martial arts in the department. shaking her head she had gone to far now as she checked her red lipstick, adjusted her soft black leather halter top and hot pants set, and finally the 4 inch black heels accenting her long shapely legs showing the firm muscle tone.

Nodding to her in the mirror Sue lastly picked up Linda's silver backed hairbrush holding it in her hands as she quietly walked down the stairs to the small den where she had left Linda reading and listening to her files and tapes.” Fantastic work," complimented Linda, without bothering to look around as she heard Sue approaching behind her. "Linda, we need to talk about your attitude,” Sue said. 

"What are you........Linda went suddenly silent as she turned to see Sue standing over her.

"You were very rude at the graduation party Linda weren't you?"  Linda bowed her head softly replying "yes." 

"YES WHAT?" hissed Sue.” And get undressed." 

"Yes, Miss!" replied Linda. As she slowly removed her tight jeans and tank top standing and wiggling out of her panties. Sue sat in a soft high-backed chair, Linda shivered as she lay over Sue's lap. It had been ages since this had been done to Linda; she also sensed the need in Sue too, as she lay over her thighs. Sue's hand gently caressed Linda's firm cheeks before placing her palm on the small of her back. SMACK! Linda jumped with a start as she felt the hairbrush sting her cheeks. Sue raised the brush again bringing it down on Linda's other cheek feeling her wiggle under her. This time Linda moaned, and Sue felt a sticky wetness on her thigh. Linda's moans grew in intensity as the blows from the brush turned her cheeks from pink to bright red, Sue felt Linda's body tighten than a warm rush over her thigh as she realized Linda was cumming. Linda faced Sue her eyes puffed and moist, her soft voice trembling with lust as she spoke.” Sue you are only the second person to ever make me feel like this.” Sue hugged the panting older woman tightly felling Linda's heart pounding against her breasts as they shared one of the most intimate of kisses.

"Linda what is it?” Asked Sue startled by Linda's response to her spanking. 

"Sue it wasn't just the spanking, Where do I start?" a shaking Linda held Sue tightly to her. Explaining her one and only previous love besides her exhusband. Becky was Sue's complete opposite Sue's peaches and cream complexion in complete contrast to Becky's dark ebony skin. But both women held the same strange power over her heart and mind. No one not even Mike knew of Becky. 

"Where is she now?" asked Sue. Getting dressed Linda drove Sue to a small church cemetery. 

"Becky was shot and killed by a drug dealer when I was a rookie." 

"And Mike and Patti where do they fit into you life?" 

"Nothing more than very good friends. Oh, we've had sex and I enjoyed it with both of them alone and together." was Linda's response. Linda and Sue spent the rest of the night and some of the next morning as Linda poured out her heart to Sue.

"Sue I have only really ever loved one other person in my life that was Becky.” Tears now rolling freely down Linda's cheeks as she added "And now there is you." Sue and Linda spent Sunday night together both had suddenly fallen deeply in love there was no more unresolved feeling only the warmth of their kisses and hugs till the loud buzz of the alarm jolted them back to their waking thoughts. That day Sue and the rest of the Narcotics strike force donned their vests and bright blue Jackets with the words "Narcotics Squad" emblazoned on the back in large yellow letters. Linda herself inspected their weapons. "Buy an automatic it could save you life." Linda told Sue coldly.

They waited patiently as one by one the student dealers got their supplies and as they left were snatch up by the waiting officers. "Some people just don't learn." remarked Linda to Sue as a large woman began to close her trunk. Linda stealthfuly moved behind the woman. "Hello Marie, you're just having one of those day's." As the woman lashed out at Linda. The Lieutenant easily blocked her punch and brought the larger woman to her knees in a painful Aikido hold, than handcuffed her. 

Sue Yelled "GUN!!" Linda turned to see a boy with a pistol in his hand. Linda drew her Browning, Sue and she blocked the two possible escape routes he had from the school. 

"Drop the weapon!" shouted Linda. "Don't do this son just put the gun down." As Linda spoke from the corner of her eye she spotted two girls leaving the school building. She quickly moved to the side stepping between the boy and the students. The startled boy fired. A split second later Sue discharged her service revolver. The boy staggered back into a small alcove. 

"What do we do lieutenant? Asked Sue. Turning to see Linda laying on the schoolyard a crimson stain now spreading over her blouse.

Pat Gibson was on her way to pick up her daughters. They had begged to go with her for her check up, when the dispatcher's voice crackled over the radio, "All units stand by. Shots fired. Officer down at the high school SWAT One respond code 3." 

Pat floored her cruiser hitting its strobes and siren. She would be on scene in less than two minutes. As she entered the yard she pulled her car between the fallen officer and where she saw some of the strike team holding at. "Sue tell them to contain only wait for SWAT." She ordered. "Than get back here and help me with Linda!"

Punching up Mike’s cell phone; "Mike, its Linda she's down." 

"Six minutes." said Mike his voice cracking. 

"1L20 to dispatch where's that paramedic?" 

"ETA 2 minutes. All units, Sgt. Gibson is ranking officer at scene."  Sue held her lover's hand and softly cried. At that moment Linda groaned regaining her senses. "Sue, the kids?" 

"Their ok lieutenant." 

"What's happening?” choked Linda.

"Don't try to talk Linda." Pat said in a soft comforting voice. "The strike force has the suspect contained, the paramedics are almost here, and so is swat."

The paramedics arrived checking Linda, as the SWAT Team quickly reinforced the members of the strike force. Pat reported to her husband. Than she and Sue took 2 units and played leap frog clearing the way for the ambulance carrying their friend.

About an hour later Mike and most of the SWAT and narcotics teams burst into the waiting room. He looked quickly around and saw his wife and Sue.

"She's in surgery Mike." called Pat as she hugged the sobbing rookie officer.

Mike paced anxiously back and forth stopping only once to punch the wall. His voice trembled with emotion as he spoke. "She'll be ok she's a strong woman you'll see." His words equally trying to convince himself as much as comfort those gathered there.

Suddenly the doors opened as a tired looking salt and peppered haired woman entered in scrubs. "Relax she's going to be fine the bullet missed all her vital organs." A collective cheer came from the officers assembled there as they took turns hugging the doctor. "Here lieutenant you'll need this we found it in the back of her vest." explained the doctor as she prepared to leave.

Mike clenched the bullet in his fist. Turning to the others. "It's a Black Talon."




To Serve and Protect Back to School



Early the next day Linda woke to find Sue and Carol sleeping at either side of her bed. Patti opened the door to Linda's room crossing over to kiss her friend.” They haven't left your side all night." 

Carol awoke. "Aunt Linda." her voice still thick with sleep. Linda hugged her softly. 

"Carol you need your rest honey I'll be fine." 

"But it was." 

SSSHhhh, "No Carol it wasn't your fault, it's what you had to do, Pat take her home now she needs her bed." "You too Officer Adams rise and shine!"

Two weeks later Mike brought Linda to her home where Pat and Sue were waiting at her door."How does it feel to be home?" asked Pat. 

"Great I think Mike hit every bump in the road on the way home.” Linda said with a smirk. 

"NAG, NAG, NAG." griped Mike. As he was closing the SUV up when Pat took his arm, 

"Take me home honey." she whispered. 

"But Linda she may need help." replied Mike. 

"She doesn't need us right now." Pat motioned to the door. 

"HUH?" Mike replied dumbfounded. "OOHH." There were Linda and Sue locked in a passionate embrace as their kiss broke. Sue picked up Linda's bag and helped her inside their house.

(My thanks to Marian our editor and her red pencil and to Patricia 51 for giving me the confidence to attempt to write this instead of just making suggestions to her)



To Serve & Protect: Concrete Angel



(The title of this story is borrowed from Martina McBride's heart-breaking song of the same title. There is no sex in this story, only sadness. Not even Pat and Mike can save everyone. And even the very toughest person can reach the end of her rope.)

The siren wailed its long call, rising and falling. Sergeant Pat Gibson reached down and flipped the switch to "yelp" as she slowed for a red light. The car's dash-mounted blue light splashed its rays across the other cars as they inched out of the way or stopped.

Three minutes later she pulled up to a non-descript battered house in a slightly run-down area of the city. Blue and red lights sparkled all over the lawn. Two marked units, a car that could only belong to a detective and an ambulance were pulled into the yard. Pat stiffened as she climbed out of her car and saw the black vehicle marked "Medical Examiner". That meant it was bad.

It got worse. When she ducked under the yellow tape around the doorway she saw the ME and squatted down beside him. Her heart sank as she saw the small form under the blanket.

Her friend looked at her and touched her hand. "Its really bad, Pat. Brace yourself."

Pat lifted the edge of the blanket. The little girl under it couldn't have been more than 10 or 11. Her face was elven like, but pinched because of inadequate nutrition. Pat swallowed hard, her hand momentarily brushing her own midsection where she was just showing.

She rose unsteadily and went to talk to the detective standing with a gaunt white male. At close range the reek of alcohol was almost overpowering.

"Hello Sam," Pat nodded to the detective.

"Hi Pat," the young black detective responded. "This is Mr. Dee McCrae. He tells me that his daughter Sarah slipped and fell over a chair. He tells me she's quite clumsy and often falls. He didn't realize how serious it was for sometime. He thought she was trying to act up." The officer turned to the man, struggling to keep the distaste he obviously felt out of his demeanor. "Is that correct, Mr. McCrae?"

"Yeah," the slurred words came out. "She's always falling. I didn't know nothin' was wrong."

Pat looked Sam in the eyes. The detective shook his head, indicating he knew the whole story was crap. She turned to the ME, "Doctor?" she asked formally.

"No," he flatly replied. "These injuries were caused by a beating. There are bruised impressions of multiple handprints on her body. Furthermore, its obvious that some of these injuries are old untreated ones, possibly even badly healed broken bones. I have no hesitation in pronouncing this death suspicious and a possible homicide." 

Pat nodded and reached under her jacket. Pulling her handcuffs free she walked towards McCrae.

"Dee McCrae, at this time I am placing you under arrest. Turn around and place one hand on your head."

"Oh no you don't," the still half-drunken man replied. "Ain't no woman cop taking me to jail, especially over that little..." His voice trailed off.

Pat's normally caring green eyes had turned to ice, her face to stone. In a voice barely above a whisper, but as hard and as determined as steel, she said, "Oh please, yes. PLEASE resist."

Dee McCrae was 6 inches taller and 100 pounds heavier than the woman in front of him but the look in her eyes quailed his protests. Without any need of assistance from the uniformed officers, Pat cuffed him and marched him to the nearest black and white.

"Watch your head," she instructed mechanically as she put him in the back seat and closed the door. She watched the car drive off and turned back to the crime scene. She swore to herself that she would dot every 'I' and cross every 'T'. That son-of-a-bitch wasn't getting away with this.

"Anything from the neighbors?" she asked Sam and the uniform officers present.

"Nothing. No one saw anything, no one heard anything. The complaint was anonymous."

"Its not going to be after I get done," Pat vowed. She scooped up some notebooks and flipped through them. "Sam, get us a search warrant. I want to look through these. Apparently this one is a journal of some kind. It might prove useful."

Two months after that night Dee McCrae had been indicted for willful murder. Lieutenant Mike Gibson was discussing the case with their closest friend and Pat's former boss, Lieutenant Linda Shannon.

"What do you think? Will he plead it out?" she asked.

"I think he will. The DA has announced plans to seek the death penalty and McCrae is terrified of the thought of dying." Mike grinned mirthlessly. "Of course after a few years in prison he'll wish he had taken the gurney and the hot shot." Linda nodded. They both knew what child killers faced in prison. The average mob hit man or bank robber made life a living hell for them. One imprisoned drug dealer of their acquaintance, upon being asked about the brutal yard beating of a convicted molester had only replied "Fuck him, he got what he deserved."

Mike leaned forward. "Linda, I need to talk to you about Pat."

"I know Mike." She sighed. "It seemed such a good idea to assign a dedicated and caring woman detective to investigate abuse cases. And since she's pregnant, its a safe place to utilize her investigative skills. After all, she's never first on scene. The uniforms and the precinct detectives are always first. She's as good as we knew she would be. Her case closure rate is astounding, not only convictions but she's decisively cleared several innocent people. But..." she raised one eyebrow and looked at Mike.


"But she's about to go over the edge," Mike said. "This case may have pushed her to the limit. We learned it in the Corps. Even the toughest Marine can reach the point were one more death is more than you can handle. She's driving herself too hard. She can't let go of it. She won't cross the line, but if she has to be on the job 24/7 until she can nail that bastard's coffin lid down, she will. Its not now that I'm worried about. She's working too hard but she knows she has another life to take care of and is acting accordingly. Its after that worries me the most."

"I agree," Linda nodded. "I'm going to recommend that one detective in each precinct be trained to handle these cases. Perhaps Pat might be available as a back up or as a specialist, but asking one officer to deal with every case like this is too much. Even for someone as strong as your wife."

The evidence against McCrae became overwhelming. Pat had coldly canvassed the neighbors again and again until sheer persistence made them admit they had seen, and ignored, what was going on at the McCrae's. She brushed aside their excuses. "It wasn't any of our business." "I didn't want to get involved." Added to the physical evidence at the scene and the mute testimony of the damage inflicted on the child, the testimonies sealed the case. The court appointed attorneys conferred with their client at the start of the trial and gave in.

A week after the plea bargain that saw Dee McRae sent to prison for life, Mike came home after his shift. Pat's unmarked car was not in the garage. 

"Carol, has your mother called?" he asked their older daughter.

"Yes, Daddy, but all she said was that she would be late."

Mike walked back to his car. Lifting the mike he called Dispatch, "Dispatch this is SWAT1. Is D-David 24 10-8?"

"Negative SWAT1. She went 10-42 over 30 minutes ago," the dispatcher replied.

Mike stuck his head back in the house and called to Carol that he would be back before too long. He took his car down a series of winding back roads and down a dirt strip to the county cemetery. Slowing, he looked over the area until he spotted Pat's unit. He parked next to it. Quietly he approached his wife, who was kneeling beside a grave. He knelt beside her and put his arm around her.

She looked up at him. Tears cut a path down her face. "Why Mike? I know we can't save everyone, but why can't we save the kids at least?" Her hand remained on the small headstone, moving in tiny circles as though she could somehow both offer and take comfort from the little girl even now.

"Shhhhhhhhhh, I know honey." His arm tightened around her. "I don't understand it either."

"All the people I've talked to, if only one of them had spoken up, this little precious girl could have been saved. If Dee McCrae didn't want his daughter, why didn't he give her up for adoption? Why couldn't I save her? Mike, I read those notebooks of hers. Again and again she wrote all she wanted was someone to love her. We would have loved her. She could have become our daughter." Her chest shook with sobs. The barriers every cop has to keep up were crumbling before this final emotional onslaught and with a strangled wail of "Oh GOD, WHY?", she fell completely apart.

Few things are more helpless than a strong man who knows he can't fix a crushing blow to someone he loves. Mike wanted to cry with and for Pat. He wanted to curse the man who had betrayed what Mike considered to be the most important aspect of manhood; the protection of his family, even at the cost of his own life. All he could do was to pull his distraught wife's head to his chest and hold her as she cried herself out. His eyes were fixed on the small stone angel standing at the headstone, her hands outstretched. He knew who had paid for that angel when he balanced the checkbook recently. It was how he had known where to find Pat. He held her and by that wordlessly let her know how much he loved her.

Finally, after her chest stopped heaving and she was silent against him, Mike tipped her face up to his. He softly kissed her and then helped her to her feet. She grunted as she rose, the evidence of her advanced pregnancy showing.

"Its time to go home now, Pat. Our children are waiting."

"I know Mike. I just, I just don't want her to be alone."

The early evening had been warm and still. Suddenly a breath of wind passed across their faces. The leaves of the tree shadowing the little grave rustled.

Somehow a smile came to Pat, though it was small and sad. She looked to the sky. "Okay, I can take a hint. She will never be alone again."

The two officers crossed themselves, walked to their cars and drove off. The breeze had died away. In the stillness the shadows of the leaves fluttered once more over the angel and the headstone she guarded.

(The End)

(Dedicated to Al, a wonderful and patient field training officer who became an outstanding detective, and who finally burned out because he cared so much. Thank you Marian, Dotti and Linda for your support and your insistence I post this. I love you all.)



To Serve & Protect: Internal Affairs



by  Patricia51 and Linda_S

Lieutenant Linda Shannon studied the report in her hands. She knew there would be nothing there she had not read and thought about four times already but it gave her an opportunity to collect her thoughts and decide on the best tack to take. She realized that investigating accusations of officer misbehavior was an extremely important job. That still didn't mean she had to like it. And this particular investigation promised to be explosive, both on a personal and a professional level.

She looked over the report that accused Officer Pat Gibson of rape. She had already pulled Gibson's service record and checked it. Excellent ratings and a commendation for achievement. Certainly nothing that would indicate anything like this. She shook her head and decided rather than summoning Gibson she would go and find her. The fewer people that knew of this the better.

Shannon walked through the station to the detective division squad room. She made a quick survey and at once picked out the officer in question. Gibson was joking with a couple of other detectives. Lieutenant Shannon quickly glanced over her, noting she was shorter than her own 5'7" and had dirty blonde hair. She also noted her soft curves and the swell of her jeans and shook her head suddenly to get her mind back on business.

"Officer Gibson?" she called. "Could I have a moment of your time please?"

"Yes Lieutenant" Pat Gibson answered. She followed Lieutenant Shannon down to her office and at a gesture closed the door behind her and took a seat. She looked the senior officer over as Shannon settled herself. Pat searched her memory, recalling what she knew of her from her husband Lieutenant Mike Gibson. She had been a highly successful undercover narcotics officer until her cover was blown in a spectacular arrest that saw her decorated with the department's highest award, the Medal of Valor. She also admired the Lieutenant's long trim legs in the rather short skirt she was wearing.

Pat was suddenly jerked back to reality by Linda's voice. "Officer Gibson, I have to inform you that a complaint has been filed against you charging you with rape." Linda slid a copy of the statement to Pat.

Pat gasped and clutched the report, staring at it as if she hoped somehow her vision alone could change what it said. How could this be happening? Why would Liz have made such a accusation? This could ruin her career. More than that, it could ruin her entire life. She and Mike had finally agreed to have a least one child of their own to go with her two stepdaughters. She had thought her past was all behind her and now it was rearing up again.

"But this is all a lie," Pat burst out.

"I don't like this any more than you do Officer Gibson," replied Linda. "But as of right now you are suspended from duty. I will have to take possession of your sidearm, handcuffs and badge."

For a moment the balance could have tipped either way. Linda touched the wood grips of her Browning automatic in the concealed holster at the back of her skirt. She prayed the wild look in Pat's eyes would not take control and force her to draw her weapon on a fellow female officer. She sighed almost audibly when Pat slowly placed her cuffs and sidearm on the desk. Linda scooped up Pat's weapon and unloaded it. She held her hand out to Pat, who placed her shield in Linda's hand while her soft green eyes, filled with tears, remained fixed on it. Linda took it and carefully locked all three items in her lower desk drawer.

"Okay then Pat," Linda told her. "I want you to tell me exactly what took place the night you took Miss Clarke back to her hotel room after the robbery attempt."

Pat hesitated. Was she about to bury herself? Should she demand a lawyer? Then she recalled talking with Mike about Linda when they had both been on the same promotion list to Lieutenant. He had commented on Linda's transfer from Narcotics to Internal Affairs.

"As long as we have to have people to keep an eye out for crooked cops," He had told her, "And we always will, Linda is one of the best for the job. She's smart, honest and you can trust her with your life." He had paused for a moment, "I know that."

Taking a deep breath Pat launched into a full description of that night. She held nothing back. Completely embarrassed by revealing her night long affair with another woman she actually began to relax a bit as she saw both understanding and compassion in the other woman's eyes. Somehow telling the story both made her feel better and also helped her hold back tears as she realized the position she had put herself in.

Linda nodded at the appropriate places, encouraging Pat to trust her with the full details of what had happened. When she had first been given this case she had contacted a friend in the State Attorney General's office and asked him to run a quiet check on Pat's background beyond what her transfer application had said. She thought she was probably the only person on the department who knew about Pat's previous relationship with another woman. She wondered if Pat had told Mike and decided she probably had not. Pat's words showed she was more frightened about her marriage than her job. 

Linda's years of undercover and investigative experience had given her a sixth sense that warned her when someone was lying. She was sure Pat was telling the truth. Now they would have to prove it. She did not want this officer's career or her life ruined. Linda thought of Mike. She had been recently divorced when his first wife Lori had died. Mike had been a SWAT sniper, often assigned to cover her at drug buys. They had helped each other through some rough times and had a brief affair that ended when Pat joined the department and Mike began to fall in love with her. For a moment Linda almost let her smile show as she remembered betting Mike 20 dollars he would propose to Pat. She won her bet within 60 days of making it. She also knew that Mike loved Pat and would not be threatened by her interest in other women. He had not been bothered about Linda's own interest in attractive females. They simply had not been right for each other, but he and Pat were.

Bringing her thoughts back to the present Linda stood up and announced "I believe you Pat. Now all we have to do is prove it and I have an idea about that." 

A short time latter a knock came on the door of the hotel room belonging to the complainant. When the strikingly beautiful blonde woman opened the door Linda presented her identification and announced, "Miss Clarke I am Lieutenant Shannon of the Internal Affairs Division of the Sheriff's Department. I need you to positively identify this Officer as the one who raped you." With that Linda lead a handcuffed Pat in.

With one almost furtive look at Pat's downcast face the other woman announced, "Yes, that is the woman Lieutenant."

"All right Ms. Clarke, if you will just sign here," Linda turned her back on Pat and spread some papers on the table by the window. No sooner has she done that when suddenly Pat slipped one slender hand from the cuffs and swung them violently at Linda's head. The lieutenant crumpled bonelessly to the floor. Liz gasped and turned completely white as the enraged younger officer swung to face her.

Pat began to scream at the suddenly terrified blonde. "Do you have any idea what you have done to my career and my life? You accuse me a crime that could put me behind bars for the rest of my life! Why ... HOW could you do this?"

Liz stammered desperately, trying to back away from Pat. She stopped when her back touched the wall. "I needed the money from the civil settlement I asked for."

"You needed the MONEY," raged Pat. "This will destroy me. Worst of all this will destroy my family."

Liz snapped back, " Who cares. You're a fool. You had to hit her. You're a cop. It doesn't matter that you didn't do anything. I would have got the money and your department would have covered it up."

Pat advanced towards Clarke with a cold rage on her face when suddenly Linda's voice cut in. "Don't Pat! She's not worth it." Liz swung around with a complete look of shock as she saw Linda standing up, a tape recorder in her hand.. Linda smiled grimly. "Looked good didn't it? Pat swung the cuffs past my head and I slammed my hand on the table to sound like she hit me." She unlocked the other cuff. "Officer Gibson, perhaps you would like to read Ms. Clarke her rights after you put these on her? A little more securely this time Pat."

"My pleasure Lieutenant," Pat's wordless expression of thanks to Linda brought a broad smile to the senior officer's face. As Pat directed Clarke ahead of her down the stairs Linda could her the voice reciting, "You have the right to an attorney. If you give up the right to an attorney, anything you say..." Pat's voice trailed off as the two other women disappeared down the stairs. Linda sat abruptly in the chair and heaved a deep sigh of relief before following the two of them.

On the way back to the station Pat wondered why Linda was whispering into her cell phone instead of using the radio. When they arrived at the station Linda told her to book Clarke and then join her in Captain Saddler's office. When she entered Linda was sitting on the edge of the captain's desk and Patti once more found her eyes drawn to Linda's long lovely legs. She scolded herself "Pat, don't you EVER learn?" Still, she knew that Linda, that is LIEUTENANT Shannon she corrected herself, was nothing like Clarke.

Captain Saddler was on his feet the moment Pat came in. "Job well done, both of you." He paused. "Although Ms. Clarke deserves more after what she put you through, I expect we'll simply deport her when all is said and done." He looked at Pat and added, "That will allow us to seal the file on this whole investigation. No one but Lieutenant Shannon, the Sheriff himself and I will ever see it."

"In the meantime," Linda beamed, "We have some things for you." Taking a box from the desk she returned Pat's sidearm and handcuffs. She took the Detective's badge from the box and shook her head. "I'm afraid I can't return this, though." 

Before Pat could do more than open her mouth to protest, Linda winked at her and asked, "Captain, would you do the honors?"

Captain Saddler's smile grew broader. He stepped up to Pat, and as though by sleight of hand produced a different badge. "Congratulations, SERGEANT Gibson," as he presented her with a Gold Sergeant's Badge.

Pat threw her arms around Saddler and Shannon in turn. "Thank you both," she exclaimed.

"You're the one that passed the exam Pat, not us," Linda grinned. "Now stop staring at that badge and put it on. Oh, and you'll be coming with me."

As Pat looked questioningly at them both, Captain Saddler added, "Beginning Monday morning you have a new assignment as a member of Lieutenant Shannon's brand new Narcotics Strike Force. Now get out of here and start your weekend early."

Pat walked out of the office on air. She followed Linda out the station door and towards Linda's unmarked car. Linda, noticing Pat daydreaming, started walking a bit faster, getting ahead of the other woman. She looked over her shoulder and grinned exuberantly. "Race you to the car," she called out and took off running.

Pat was caught completely by surprise for a moment. Whooping happily she chased the other woman to the supervisor's car. Despite running in heels and a skirt Linda beat Pat by two steps. She pulled open the driver's side door and grinned at the other officer. "You're buying dinner," she announced. "We're celebrating."

Pat's face fell just a little. "Mike is in Atlanta at the SWAT supervisor's course he's attending. The girls are at their grandparents this week too."

Linda triumphantly held out her cell phone. "Call Atlanta," she ordered. "The number's already programmed in. They'll put you right through to him. He's expecting your call but doesn't know what its about."

As Pat talked to her husband the events of the past few hours really seemed to sink in. As she babbled away to Mike her arm went around Linda's waist without even really realizing what she was doing. Happy for her new friend Linda hugged Pat back and smiled as she listened to the bubbling conversation.

Pat finally hung up and squeezed Linda again, still not letting go in her excitement. "Mike says thanks and to take you to dinner on us and if you want to get drunk to buy you drinks all night." She impulsively stood on her toes and kissed Linda on the cheek.

"Wow," Laughed Linda, "Was that from Mike too?"

"Nope, that was from me. Thanks again."

"You're welcome," Linda replied, kissing Pat back on her soft warm cheek.

For a moment both women looked in each others eyes, each still with an arm around the other. They both knew something was stirring. Neither was sure what it was, but both knew it called out to them.

Linda shook herself and broke the spell. "You drive," She told Patti as she walked around to the passenger door. "Let's go to Regonetti's for that dinner. The food is great and I want to talk to you about our first assignment."

On the way over the chatter remained light. Twice though Linda looked out of the corner of her eyes to see Pat's eyes on her legs. Unable to resist a bit of teasing, Linda found the opportunity to stretch and let her already short skirt ride far up her legs. When they reached the restaurant Linda's directed Pat to park the car in a corner of the lot under a shady tree that hid it from the entrance. "When you're working undercover you never want to let anything advertise you're a law enforcement officer, " She advised. "And a car like this screams 'Unmarked Police Car.'"

As they walked towards the entrance Linda took Pat's hand in hers. Smiling brightly Pat held it and squeezed it. Going through the entrance and into the dining room neither one dropped the others hand till they were seated at opposite sides of a cloth draped table. A waiter brought menus and a wine list. In keeping with her promise Pat ordered a nice merlot and they each enjoyed a glass.

"Okay," Linda announced as they set their glasses down. She leaned forward across the table to Pat. "Without looking directly at them, check out the couple behind me and to my left by the window." Pat let her gaze wander casually across the room, taking in the attractive brunette woman in a very tight outfit and her male companion. 

"The guy in the three piece gray suit is Robert Terry, known as "Terrible Terry". He is perhaps the biggest drug trafficker we have to deal with in this area. He's our unit's new assignment. The woman with him is his girlfriend Maria. And she is your new assignment. Once we have your cover built properly I want you to get close to her. What he knows she will know too."

"That's fine Lieutenant," Pat replied. "But how in the world am I going to get close to her."

"Two things Pat," Linda said. At Pat's arched eyebrows Linda continued. "First, from now on its Linda. Second...," Pat almost leaped upright when she felt Linda's bare toes press against the inside of her thigh. "Second, "Linda winked broadly and barely stifled a laugh at the mixed look on Pat's face, "Maria is quite fond of smaller attractive women."

"Linda," Pat began, a dark blush coloring her face, "I know what happened between Clarke and I must color your perception of me but I can't, I mean," She began to stammer, "I couldn't, I'm not, oh hell," She ended helplessly.

Linda reached across the table and took Pat's hands. She squeezed them. "I want you to flirt, Pat, that's all." Linda looked deeply into the other woman's eyes, "I know what you came here to escape." Pat flinched. "AND it will never be revealed by me, no matter what the circumstances. Yes or No, I will never put you in a position that you will be forced to do anything you do not want to."

Pat looked at Linda, unshed tears brightening her eyes. "Well then, in that case we better set the groundwork because Maria is looking this way with not a little interest." Pat leaned forward, pulling Linda across the table and kissed her fully on the mouth. The kiss continued as Linda, surprised in spite of herself, returned it. Her eyes closed as their mouths continued to press together and she felt the tip of Pat's tongue slip between her own lips for just a moment.

As the two women broke apart Linda stared at Pat. "Are you sure about this?" she asked quietly.

Pat returned her look. "I'm sure about everything." She suddenly giggled. "Put your shoe back on and lets get out of here." She threw a couple of bills on the table and called over her shoulder, "Race YOU this time."

Linda hurried, but Pat was already at the car with the doors opened. As with most police cars the interior light did not come on with the doors opening so the area under the tree was covered in shadows. As Linda came up she was almost startled when Pat took her in her arms and passionately kissed her. The kiss turned openmouthed almost at once as tongues began to explore each other. The two female officers held each other close, letting their hands roam over each other's backs. Pat pushed her jeans covered leg between Linda's, exposed as they were by her skirt, and rubbed up and down. With an audible gasp Linda cupped Pat's firm curvy bottom through her jeans and squeezed.

The two of them almost fell into the car, still holding one another. Pat's smaller frame covered Linda as the they clung to each other. Linda almost had her legs around the other woman's fuller body. The deep kiss that had begun outside the car continued. Pat's hand touched Linda's left breast and began to rub it through her blouse. Linda could feel her nipple, already hard, becoming even more erect as Pat's palm rubbed the lace bra across it.

Suddenly both women jumped as a car horn sounded in the parking lot. They sat upright, automatically separating and trying to adjust their clothing. They broke into a relieved laugh simultaneously as they realized someone was just trying to locate a car in the dark lot.

Shaking, Linda pulled her door closed and slid next to Patti. "Drive," She ordered. "I only live a mile from here."

"Should I run code?" Pat asked innocently.

"Vixen!" Replied Linda with mock indignation. "Just don't get us caught."

Pat followed Linda's directions, driving quickly. Her mind was in a whirl. 'Caught', what an appropriate word for what worried her. What in the world was possessing her? She had just escaped a situation that could have had disastrous personal and professional consequences for her and she was plunging back to that same cliff edge. Shouldn't she stop this while she could?

Unknown to her almost the same thoughts were spinning through Linda's mind. A fellow officer and the wife of a dear friend and colleague! The whole thing was insane. Linda thumbed the remote to open her garage door. As soon as the car came to a stop she closed the door.

Both women turned to each other. Perhaps either would have spoken but Pat's eyes dropped to Linda's long enticing legs displayed below a skirt that was caught up almost to her waist. Linda's eyes riveted to where her fingers had opened Pat's shirt nearly to her jeans and the white swell of her breasts half out of her bra. Their eyes met. The look carried both their doubts away in a flood of rising passion as their mouths met again even as they pulled themselves from the driver's door of the car.

The kiss never faltered as Linda fumbled open the back door of the house. They all but reeled down the hallway to the bedroom. Their path was marked by the scattering of their tops and bras. Linda and Pat both managed to put their weapons on the hall table. Linda kicked her shoes off again and tore at Pat's jeans. Pat managed to lever off her black running shoes and unzipped Linda's skirt as they came through the bedroom door.




To Serve & Protect: Internal Affairs



Pushing frantically Pat managed to get her jeans to her feet and kick them off as Linda's skirt finally fell free. With one mad burst Pat pushed Linda back on to the bed and fell beside her. The two women, now only in panties, clung to each other, their mouths searching each other's. Pat rolled on top of Linda and wrapped her arms around Linda's neck. Pinning the other woman down Pat's lips slid down to the junction of Linda's neck and shoulder. Pat caught the skin in her teeth and bit and sucked it while she rubbed her breasts against Linda's. Linda arched her back and begged, "Oh God, Pat, please, pleaaaaaaaaasssssssseee," The last was a drawn out gasp as Pat's fingers caught her nipple and began to roll and pinch it.

"Pat, " Linda pleaded, "Pat, turn around. I want you as much as you want me."

Instantly the other woman turned her body so the two of them were now in the classic position. Linda reached up and pulled Pat's panties down her legs.. Pat only pulled the crotch of Linda's aside and immediately began to suck and lick Linda's soaking swollen lips. Feeling her touch, Linda all but tore Pat's panties from her in a haste to seize the other's full bottom in her hands and pull her full bush down to waiting lips.

The two women were completely turned on. They both threw subtlety to the winds and went down on each other as only two women can. Linda pulled Pat's pussy right down on her face. Setting her chin she tipped her head slightly and began to lick up and down Pat's slit in long, fast strokes. Pat. on the other hand, used her stiffened tongue to dart deeply inside Linda, curling and dragging it against her vaginal walls. Both slipped a finger inside the other to aid themselves in bringing the other to orgasm.


Linda's tongue strokes became faster and faster as she felt Pat begin to shudder on top of her. Pat was using her whole head to drive her tongue in and out of Linda's pussy. Pat's fingers reached around to Linda's smooth tight ass and gripped both cheeks. She dug her nails in and lifted Linda against her stabbing tongue. With that grip Linda began to shake wildly in the throes of her own build up. She reached for the top of Pat's slit and took her clit in her lips and began to suck it and shake her head. Pat screamed and rammed her face into Linda, impaling her as her nails raked Linda's ass. Linda cried out in return. Both woman erupted, pouring their juices over the other's faces in long shuddering orgasms.

When the shaking and trembling reduced itself somewhat Pat managed to turn herself and take Linda in her arms. They kissed again, their faces sticky against each other, the taste of each other on their lips. As they collapsed to one another Linda managed to pull the sheet over them and they fell into a deep sleep.

(Thank you to all who have been kind enough to read this. Thank you very much to those of you who comment on what you liked or didn't like. Yes, the police procedure is not perfect but we tried. Apologies to Liz, who became the villainess of this piece. Liz, it was all Linda's idea! A large thank you to Marian, who proof read this and fixed a number of errors. Stay tuned for the next installment in the series "To Protect and Serve - Undercover Operations")



To Serve & Protect: Night Watch



(This story contains scenes of both sex and extreme violence. Please do not read it if you are upset by either. The only actions portrayed I advocate are those of the hero and heroine. Incidentally, anyone who would treat a woman as the opening scene does, well, let's just say they get theirs.) 

The woman moaned. This wasn't fun anymore. Hands gripped her wrists and ankles. She was spread-eagled on a cold marble slab of some kind. She dully felt the man enter her, his rigid cock driving immediately up inside her bruised pussy.

She tried to respond, but she no longer cared. She had met this good-looking guy in a club. She remembered having a drink with him, then another after she came back from the ladies room. After that it was hazy. They had left the club and driven around. She had found herself so aroused. When he suggested they have some fun she was all over him. She had freed his cock from his pants and sucked it like a lollipop. She had reached under her own skirt ands wiggled her fingers under her panties. 

He had stopped the car and slipped out of it, teasing her. She had reached out to him and he had taken her hands, pulling her from the car. They had run into the dimly lit building, down some stairs, she thought, and then into this room. He had taken her in his arms and began to kiss her. His kisses had been demanding, almost brutal, but they only inflamed her desire.

He had stripped her clothes from her and pushed her back onto the slab. In one move he had penetrated her, stifling her cries with a deep kiss. He had ground his body against hers, almost battering her with the deep thrusts of his cock. His bare chest had scraped back and forth over her breasts, making her nipples stiffen and become incredibly sensitive. She had wrapped her arms and legs around him and urged him on.

He said not a word. Harder and harder he thrust into her. Her hips bucked up to him, meeting his every movement. Her mind reeling with the sensations, she felt him swell inside her, and she met his blast of cum with an orgasm of her own. He had withdrawn immediately, pulling away from her attempts to hold him.

Then the nightmare began.

Hands suddenly gripped her ankles and wrists. One by one the men circled her, each one taking a turn with her. One by one they forced their way into her, showing no regard for her, as though she was a lump of meat. Her canal filled with cum till it was overflowing.

She wanted to weep but couldn't. She wanted to resist but was unable to move. She realized she had been drugged. Terrified, she saw the man standing over her head bring the knife up and, breaking the bonds of silence, she screamed as it came towards her...

Sergeant Pat Gibson snapped the disposable gloves on and squatted to lift the cover off the body. Although she had seen a number of dead bodies before, the sight of this one sickened her. She dropped the flap of the plastic bag and stood up.

"The same as the others, Doc?" She asked the tall, thin Medical Examiner.

"The same as the other three, Pat. It appears to be a ritualistic killing of some kind. I suspect I'll find the same drugs in her system too. The same evidence of sexual abuse. I'll call you when I have the autopsy report ready." He hesitated and then stepped to the side, bringing her over with a motion of his hand.

"Have you seen the doctor that Dr Morgenstern and I recommended?"

Pat sighed deeply. "Yes I did, Stan. Thank you, but the answer is the same. Its astounding I was able to conceive Mike, Jr. at all. No more children for Mike and I."

"I'm sorry," assured her friend. "Sheila Morgenstern doesn't make mistakes, but I had hoped."

"So did I. We wanted another child, but Stan, I have so much to be thankful for already. It'll be okay.

Pat's cell phone rang. She answered it. The conversation consisted almost completely of "Yes, Sir and No, Sir." After ending the call, she looked at the phone and shrugged.

"They're all over you on this one aren't they Pat?" Dr. Stan Wisder asked.

"Yes, that was the Sheriff himself, asking if I need any help, assuring me of his support and gently reminding me that everyone's ass is going to get hung out if we don't catch this guy. I have four detectives working for me. Every beat officer has descriptions of our Jane Does and instructions to talk to everyone about them. If we could just ID one of them and start a back trail, we might figure this out."

Doggedly Pat and the officers assigned under her followed the case. They took the pictures of the four victims and made the rounds, showing them to cab drivers, store clerks, gas station attendants, any one who had frequent contact with the public. 

"We keep coming up empty Mike," Pat said moodily one evening at home. "Nothing anywhere."

"Okay honey, there always is something." Mike replied. Although his career with the sheriff's department had primarily been in uniform, Mike had been an excellent detective as a corporal. "what do we have?"

"We have four women, approximately all the same age, same general appearance. The lab reports indicate they were all murdered with probably the same knife, certainly the same type of knife. They were drugged, probably mixed into a drink."

Mike cut her off. "The drinks, Pat. Hit the clubs in the area they were found. Let's put some feelers out about the underground clubs too." He studied the toxicology reports. "What's this?"

Pat looked over her husband's shoulder. "Yeah, that struck me too. Traces of a chemical compound similar to a pesticide found on the skin of two of the victims. Somehow, that rings a deep bell, but I don't know why. And Mike, this has to be solved and soon. The murders all happened in the new moon, and the next one of those is only a week away."

Pat leaned on the bar of a small underground night club known, rather unoriginally, as The Rave. The uneasy proprietor was protesting his complete innocence of anything to do with selling alcohol without a license or running a business of any kind. Two heavy set bouncers stood nearby. Two equally heavily built uniform officers stood with them.

"I've begun to lose patience with you, Ralph. I don't give a rat's ass about your business dealings and wheelings. However, I can if you keep evading me. On the other hand, cooperate and you record brownie points good towards your next need for a "Get Out Of Jail Free" card. Tell me about the girls."

"Okay, Sergeant Gibson," the man sighed. He laughed. "Its true what the word on the street is." Pat cocked her head and made a come on gesture. "As tough as everyone knows your husband is, they say its worse to cross you." He held up his hand. "Yes, I know positively the last girl was in here. I remember her sitting at the bar, and the creepy guy who picked her up."

"Creepy? How so?"

"Just made my skin crawl is all I can tell you."

"Okay, Ralph. Seriously, here's my card. Office and cell phone numbers are on it." Pat laid down a picture of the last victim, showing the wounds she had suffered. The owner sucked in his breath and turned green. "Call me if you see him again."

"I will." He looked at the picture again. "You can count on it. Someone who would do that... well, I don't cover for things like that."

Four days later, on the night of the new moon, Pat's cell phone rang, about an hour before dusk.

"Sergeant Gibson? Its Ralph. The guy was in here and he just left with some female. She's about 25, blonde and wearing a black dress and shoes. I'm sorry, I was back in the storeroom and just saw them leaving. I had Tiny go out after them but they were already gone."

"Thanks Ralph. You get one big point for this. If you ever need it, call me." Pat rushed from the office and into her car. She called Mike and told him what was going on.

"What do you think Pat? Where could they be going?"

"Mike, I don't know." She paused, "Why does that chemical compound keep ringing in my ears? It means something but I can't think of what."

"Talk it through, honey," her husband advised.

"Okay, its similar to the inhibiting agent found in commercial pesticides. There are traces only, on the skin, not ingested."

"Son-of-a-BITCH!"

"What is it Mike?" Through the phone she could gear him call to Carol he had to go out. Then she heard first the back door and then a car door slam.

"There's an abandoned pesticide plant out about 5 miles off State Highway 27. The EPA closed it years ago. How damn stupid can I be?"

"Give me directions and I'll meet you there."

Mike and Pat arrived at almost the same moment at the falling down gates leading through the fence line surrounding the plant. Without fanfare they slowly drove their cars through the half ruined factory. Pat suddenly turned into an alley between two buildings. Mike followed and they both got out.

"Fresh tire tracks," He pointed out.

"And there," following Pat's finger Mike saw a high heel shoe laying by a metal door. "Ralph at The Rave told me the woman was wearing black, including her shoes."

Suddenly Pat shivered. A breeze began to whistle down the alley. She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Mike, is it just me or is it getting colder?" She took a deep breath. "And what in God's name is that smell? Its not chemicals, it smells like, like..."

"Like dead bodies in an open grave." Mike answered quietly. "I remember it from the Gulf."

Pat's hands shook just a bit as she reached into the car and picked up the radio mike. She was almost relieved to see her husband looked rather pale. Almost. His left hand was gripping the chain around his neck. Pat knew he always wore his Marine Corps dog tags and a religious medal. She rather suspected it was the latter he had in his fingers.

Swallowing hard, her free hand pulled the small silver cross out from her shirt. Pat had not been especially religious for much of her life. After marrying her staunchly Irish Catholic husband, she had started going to church with him and the girls. The cross had been a present from Carol and Stephanie the day they baptized Mike, Jr. Right now she was very glad to have it.

Pat keyed the mike, "Dispatch this is D-David 24." The only answer was a rush of static. "Dispatch this is D24, respond please." Nothing.

"Any unit, any available unit this is SWAT 1. Officers need assistance." Mike was using his walkie-talkie. There was nothing but the hiss of the carrier wave.

"Maybe its the buildings."

Mike walked rapidly down the alley way. Coming into the open he started calling again. Pat's radio was mute even from that short distance. She opened her cell phone and pushed the buttons for 911. Looking down she saw "no service" blinking at her. She put it back on her belt. Moved by a sudden impulse she turned the ignition key. The engine sprang to life. Well, something worked.

As Matt trotted back down the alley towards her, Pat found herself up against the far wall, her gazed fixed on the door and her hand on the grips of her sidearm.

"Its in there, Mike." After a moment she added, "whatever 'It' is."

"Are you alright?"

"I feel like what's-her-name when she's surrounded by vampires."

"Wouldn't mind her here right now. The character, honey, not the actress," Mike hastily added as Pat glared at him. He walked to the door. "Its stuck."

Mike finally wrenched the door open. Pat wrinkled her nose as a cold current of air poured from the doorway. The air carried the foul odor with it.

"Pat, honey," Mike said quietly. "I want you to get in your car and get the hell out of here. Go for help."

"There's no time for that Mike," she responded. "I'm not leaving you. I never have left you, I never will. And I don't run from anything on this earth." She lifted a hand as he opened his mouth. "I know you're about to say something about the children. I think if we don't go in there now, they may be facing something much worse than not having us before long."

"We're cut off, Mike," she gestured around them. "No phone, no radio. The cars will start though. Somehow I think we're being told if we leave now, we'll be allowed to. But if we do," she swallowed, "I have a feeling whatever is happening will be done by the time we can get back here with help."

"You're right," Mike admitted. "I hesitate to accept whatever is giving us an out is doing so from altruism."

Suiting his actions to his words, Mike opened the trunk. He hesitated over the shotgun, then reached far into the back and removed a zippered gun case. He took a dully finished Colt AR15 from it. Inserting a 20 round magazine, he then pulled the charging handle. Placing the weapon on "safe" he shrugged into a black nylon vest and put 4 more full magazines in its pockets.

Pat had brought out a second Glock and loaded it. She attached a clip-on holster to her belt. The pistol rode butt forward on her left side. Mike turned and handed her a spherical object. Her eyes widened. 

"Mike, what the hell are you doing with this? These," she amended as he placed two more hand grenades in his vest pockets.

"Souvenirs from this year's Marine Corps Reserve training. Be careful."

"No kidding," Pat muttered. She carefully checked to make sure the safety wire was around the handle and the pull pin was bent in place. She put it in her jacket pocket. "Ready?"

"I wouldn't go in there if I was you all," a cracked male voice echoed through the alley.

Both cops spun around, aiming their weapons at the sound. They lowered them as they realized they were covering a white haired elderly man, leaning on a cane.

"Sir, what are you doing here? This is a very dangerous place."

"You're telling me Missy?" The old man snorted. "Weird men dressed in robes, carrying a young woman. Up to no good I can you that. Don't like that smell, don't like anything about it. Your man is right there, young woman. You should skedaddle out of here."

Pat rolled her eyes. "What is this? Male chauvinist day? I took the same oath you did Mike. To 'Serve and Protect'." She had a sudden thought and dug in her pocket. "Sir, please take this, its my cell phone. Please try to call 911 and keep trying till you can get through. Give them our location and tell them Officers Mike and Pat Gibson need help." 

The old man accepted the phone, mumbling under his breath about "Youngun's with no respect for their elders."

The two officers checked their equipment once more and entered the door, leaving it open behind them. The old man limped slowly after them. He listened for a minute. Stuffing the cell phone unused in a pocket, he followed them in.

The moment the door closed the radio sprang to life. "Dispatch to SWAT 1, Dispatch to D-David 24. Mike, Pat, please come in. You've been out of contact for an hour. What's your 20? Answer, PLEASE."

Mike and Pat gingerly followed the current of cold, foul air. They went down two flights of stairs, carefully covering each other every step of the way. They were well below street level now. The only illumination was from their flashlights.

They were suddenly brought up short before a locked metal reinforced door. Pat passed her hand over the tiny aperture the keyhole made and shivered. The air was freezing on her hand. Straining her ears, she thought she could hear chanting.

"This is it," she whispered. She checked both her pistols to ensure a round was chambered and the safeties were off. Mike pulled her back around the nearest corner and took the grenade Pat offered him. He removed the safety wire from the spoon and straightened the pin. 

For ten seconds they looked in each other's eyes. Mike whispered a prayer and Pat answered "Amen."

"I love you," Mike said.

"Always," Pat answered.

Mike pulled the pin, let the handle fly and rolled the grenade towards the door. He ducked back and gathered Pat to him.

The explosion ripped through the old building. Braced for it as they were, the two cops recovered and sprinted for the doorway, now blown wide open. Mike ducked through first, with Pat behind him.

"Everyone Freeze," bellowed Mike.

The room was crowded with shadowy figures in dark robes. The only illumination was from flickering torches on the walls. The figures standing over the woman being held were motionless, except for the one thrusting between the woman's legs. He suddenly arched, held that pose for a moment and then stepped back.

A low hiss came from the crowd. The man at the head of the altar laughed and said, "Oh, the police. How nice. Convenient timing too. Too late, as you fools always are, to stop us. But right on time to provide for the master."

As though the statement was itself was a conjurement, a dark ball appeared in the center of the room. It expanded. The room temperature dropped even farther as though the darkness was feeding upon the warmth there. The indistinct blob coalesced into the vague outline of a human form clad in a black, hooded robe. It seemed to stand on the air in the center of the room. 

The entire group moaned fervently and fell on their faces. "Master, master, master," they chanted. Only the two cops stood. The figure turned in the air and they felt the burning glare of unseen eyes. 

"Who dares to stand in my presence?" The voice was resonate with evil. Pat shook, more afraid than she had ever been in her life. She saw Mike was ashen. She touched him. The contact somehow strengthened them and she stopped her trembling.

"They are unbelievers, Master."

"They WILL believe." the figure stated. 

Both the Gibsons felt the creature's stare settle on them. Visions swam through their minds. Each saw their heart's desires fulfilled. Power, sex, authority, wealth; all could be theirs. Base cravings buried deeply in the dark corners of their minds were brought forth, examined and satisfied. The evil voice pierced their thoughts, "All these things will be yours, if you will only fall down and worship me." 

Mike stared at the creature. "I know who you are," he whispered. "I reject you. You and your promises are empty." His voice began softly, then rose to the full power it was capable of, "FUCK YOU!" He lifted the rifle he knew was useless, and aimed it at the dark shape.

A shocked quiet descended over the vast room. The hooded creature directed its attention to Pat.

"And you? What do you say? The man won't be so brave in a minute. If he's lucky I'll simply let my servants tear him limb from limb and drink his blood alive. But I will only be that merciful if you come to me woman."

Pat's bright contralto voice rang through the dark and the shadow. "And the horse you rode in on, buster." She defiantly stood beside her husband, both pistols ready.

The dark shape laughed inhumanly. "That two humans think to oppose me! You have refused my offer, take the consequences then. I will strip the flesh from your bones bit by bit, yours and that of your children. Dark and cold will be your fate. You will despair and try to hide yourselves but you will be unable to. Endless night will be your portion. I will..."

"Oh, SHUT UP!"

A deafening silence fell over the room. Trying to keep both sides of Mike covered, Pat risked a glance backwards. Her mouth dropped open as the old man from the alley limped past her. She gestured to him. "Mister, get back behind us, please. We'll try to cover you. You need to get out of here."

The old man advanced past Mike. He turned to face the both of them. "You two are good kids. I'm proud of you. Now you handle them," he jerked his head towards the stunned crowd. "I'll handle loud mouth." The old man turned towards the demon. The cane dropped from his hand. In front of the stunned crowd he began to get bigger and brighter. The demon's eyes widened.

"YOU!"

"Me."

The now brightly shinning figure sprang for the dark one. The sound of their unearthly collision shook the entire building. As they grappled, Mike saw the leader raise the sacrificial knife over his head. The assault rifle jumped to his shoulder and the first shot rang out. The knife fell from a nerveless hand as the target crumpled to the floor.




To Serve & Protect: Night Watch



As though that was a signal, the crowd went into a frenzy. Some tried to escape. Some turned on each other. Some rushed the officers. Guns, knives, chains and clubs appeared. Mike threw a grenade to each side and he and Pat ducked the explosions. Jumping back to his feet, Mike advanced towards the figure of the helpless woman. He fired carefully aimed shots each time one of the worshippers attempted to reach her.

Pat followed her husband. She knew Mike's whole attention was on rescuing the woman. She determinedly covered him, firing to either side at anyone she thought posed any threat to him. A man rushed towards Mike from their left with an uplifted knife. Pat shot him twice without a thought, much less an order to halt. A woman to her right lifted a revolver and Pat dropped her instantly. She couldn't believe it. She and Mike weren't vigilantes, they were cops.

She didn't realize that she had spoken aloud until Mike answered her. "No honey," he flung over his shoulder. "This is a war and we've been picked as soldiers. Well, picked as Marines anyway, I was never a doggie." He dropped to one knee, changed magazines and emptied it in quick 3 round bursts.

Then they had reached the altar. Pat holstered one weapon and quickly checked the young woman. She was breathing. Pat almost cursed under her breath as she saw the bruises on the woman's pelvic area. Hearing a shoe scrape on the concrete, she turned to find one of the men who had been surrounding the stone trying to back away. Seeing his robe hiked up into his still open pants, Pat realized he was one of the men who had been raping the woman, and he still clutched a gun. Aiming her pistol lower than normal, she fired twice. Matt spun, to see the man writhing on the floor, his hands clutching his groin.

"Nice shot."

"Thanks."

The blinding mixture of the dark and light shapes filled the room. Forces beyond human comprehension were in conflict. Pat and Mike felt dizzy. Mike saw the robed figures nearest the battle begin to fall and knew the climax of the battle was at had. He scooped the inert form of the woman up in his arms. He set her carefully behind the protection of the granite altar. Pulling Pat down beside her, he covered both of them with his body. 

A massive but silent explosion swept over them. Protected as they were by the granite block, they were still buffeted by the release of the forces involved. When thing stopped falling around them Mike popped over the marble top of the altar, his rifle swinging to cover the room.

"It's okay," came the now familiar old man's voice. Mike helped Pat stretch the young woman's quiet form on the slab. Mike pulled off his vest, now empty of magazines and grenades, rolled it and pillowed her head. Pat snatched off her black leather jacket and covered the woman as best she could.

Looking around the shambles of the cavernous room Pat shook her head. Bodies lay all over in the contorted positions they had fallen. The grenades had torn holes in the concrete blocks and a fine dust covered everything. "What a mess."

"DAMN, but that was fun." The old man spun his cane in a blinding circle. "I haven't got to fight that son-of-a-bitch one on one in decades now. Thanks for inviting me to the affair. And not to worry Pat, I'll take care of the mess. Well, most of it anyway. I'll leave the ones around the altar to show that you did your job too."

"Who ARE you? What did you mean we invited you? 

The old man smiled. "You know who I am, Mike. And Pat, your willingness to face the evil here was all the invitation I needed." He raised a hand as his words sunk in and Mike, realization on his face, started to kneel. "None of that, Mike! My ancient foe, now he demands subservience. He looks for worshippers and makes them his slaves. I look for companions, for fellow warriors against the dark. You two are that. And more than you two. I see your children and your children's children all as fellow warriors, be they cops or soldiers or doctors, or simply loving men and women. An ever-growing army that will 'Serve and Protect'." His head turned and for a moment they caught again the brilliance concealed beneath his old man's face. "Your friends are here. I'm proud of them too."

With that he was gone. All that remained where the eight bodies at the altar and the still unconscious woman. 

"Mike! Pat! Are you down here?" Lieutenant Linda Shannon's voice echoed throughout the chamber. She burst through the ruins of the door, her Browning in both hands. Behind her came Deputy Bob Dupree, Mike's onetime partner, and a dozen other deputies. Seeing the two were safe, they lowered their weapons.

"Wow, what a mess," observed Linda, unconsciously echoing Pat's earlier words. "What happened here?"

Somehow Mike and Pat were able to stammer out a story of freak conditions that prevented them from summoning aid and an account of a struggle to rescue the almost victim from a band of armed men. Fortunately the swarm of law-enforcement, rescue and even news crews enabled them to coordinate their stories. The few inconsistencies were blamed on the confusion of the situation.

Finally finished, they trudged wearily towards the parking lot. Linda appeared and stopped them in the corridor. After making sure they were alone, she looked at them and whispered, "I know a lot more went on there than you're telling. But I trust you. If and whenever you can tell me, I'd like to hear it."

Mike nodded. Pat squeezed Linda's arm and they left the station.

"Honey?" Pat turned her husband around to face her. "He," and Mike knew exactly who she referred to, " Said you knew him. And you did." Mike smiled and fished out the chain around his neck again. He showed her the medal he wore."

"Him?"

"Well honey, he is the patron saint of police officers."

"WOW."

The two officers finally reached their home well after daybreak. The house was empty. Pat found the note Carol had left, telling them that a neighbor was taking them to school and Mike, Jr. to daycare. Pat blessed Mrs. Welborn for her thoughtfulness.

She collapsed into a chair, suddenly so spent she couldn't hold herself up. Mike pulled off her jacket and then carefully unstrapped her gun belt. He left to put their weapons up in the locker they kept them in. When he returned he knelt and carefully untied her boots and took them and her socks off. Pat could tell he was exhausted too, but in a burst of strength he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the master bathroom. When he pushed open the door, the steam billowed out and Pat could hear the water running in the tub. 

Mike kicked the door closed behind them. He softly kissed her as he helped her out of her filthy clothes. His clothes followed and he settled them both in the tub. She leaned back against his chest, his legs on either side of her. He dipped the washcloth in the hot water, covered it in body wash and began to gently wash her whole body. The soothing touch of her husband's hands, even over her breasts and sex, all but put her to sleep.

After he finished cleansing them both Mike helped Pat to her feet. He let the water out of the tub and turned the shower on. Warm but not hot, the water sluiced their bodies clean and restored some of their energy. Pat suddenly giggled as she felt something bump against her leg.

"MIKE! Don't you ever get tired?"

He laughed. "It must be something you feed me darling, because I never seem to." He lifted her to the bathroom floor and they dried each other off. Pat's eyes sparkled as she threw her arms around Mike and kissed him. His strong arms lifted her face even with hers, her toes dangling well off the floor. She clung there, laughing and waving her legs as he walked the two of them their bed.

Feeling it behind her, Pat let go and tumbled onto the fresh sheets. Mike stood over her for a minute. His eyes caressed her petite, shapely form. Her short, dirty blonde hair fell across her face. Mike thought then, as he had always thought, how beautiful she was and how lucky he had been she had come into his life.

Pat reached out a hand to her husband. He sat on the edge of the bed and their fingers locked. He was so handsome, she thought. Strong, and yet as loving and tender to her and the children as he could be. She wished she could have given him more. He was a great father, she thought, not realizing that at the same moment Mike was thinking what a fantastic mother she was.

He bent to her and kissed her. Her mouth opened immediately to him. She rolled onto her side and he matched her movement so they lay facing each other. The kiss deepened, becoming passionate but still loving. She ran her fingers over his chest, delighting in the swell of the muscles and the feel of the hair. He took the breasts he thought the sexiest in the world in his hands. He brushed each nipple with his thumbs, letting his fingers touch every bit of the firm globes.

Pat slipped her lips to the side of Mike's neck. She licked down over the pulse point, softly sucking the skin there. The throbbing seemed to echo through her own body, quickening both their heartbeats. He responded by swirling his tongue in her ear and nibbling down the shell with tiny bites.

She slid her shorter body down his and threw her leg over him. Hooking it behind him she pulled their bodies together. His powerful leg lifted hers and the head of his cock pressed against her open slit. She jutted her hips and with a satisfying lunge he slid all the way inside her.

For a long breathless moment they simply held each other. Arms wrapped around bodies and their mouths met again. Mike rolled onto his back, his hard cock still buried in her. He kept her body next to his, his arms locked around her back. She slid up and then back down, flexing her lower body. She slipped her hands under him, gripping his shoulders.

Her breath was warm and her tongue a delicious living entity in his mouth. Her hard nipples scraped back and forth over his chest. He pushed up into her. She rode his cock, feeling each meeting of their bodies driving it deeper and deeper into her. She crooned wordlessly as the up thrust of his hips ground the head of his shaft deep into her pussy and rubbed it against her spot. 

Faster they moved against each other. Both of them felt fulfilled, the joining of their bodies making them as one. Her body tensed and her internal muscles clamped tightly onto his cock. He swelled inside of her, locking them completely together.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh," Pat breathed as she felt Mike's cock empty itself into her. The hot spurt filled her, washing her back and forth as though waves rocked her. She cried, "Mike!" and fell to him, his cock pulsating inside her pussy. When the spasms subsided for both of them, she simply laid her head on his shoulder and went to sleep. After insuring his arms held her tight, as his cock softened in her, Mike fell asleep too.

Weeks later Mike pulled up to their family doctor's office. He got out of the truck, then paused as he looked through the window and saw his wife heading for the door. Pat came out of the doctor's office with a very strange look on her face. Mike opened the passenger's side door and helped her in.

"What is it?" He asked anxiously as he got back in the driver's side. "Are you alright? What's been making you sick?" He quieted as Pat held up her hand.

She sat there for a moment, thoughts chasing each other across her face so quickly that Mike was unable to read them. She opened her mouth twice without speaking.

"Honey?"

Pat reached over and took his hand. Her eyes shown with joy mingled with disbelief. "I'm pregnant," she said simply.

"But, but, but...Pat," Mike stammered. "All the doctors, they said you couldn't, we couldn't; I mean, what happened?"

"They don't know Mike." She looked at him. "I believe Dr. Morgenstern used the word 'miracle'."

Nine months after the battle Pat gave birth to twin boys. Comments were made at their christening about the two boys being given the same middle name. Linda and Bob were the godparents. When the service was over, the Gibsons and their friends left the building with Robert Michael Gibson and Daniel Michael Gibson, each in a parent's arms. As they came down the steps, Pat saw an elderly man leaning on his cane across the street. He smiled at her, lifted his cane in a wave and disappeared into the crowd.

(The End)

(Thank you to my editor and best friend Marian as always. Thanks to Linda_S for her invaluable suggestions and support. And finally, thanks to the real life man who became Mike in these stories, just for being you. Feedback is always appreciated.)



To Serve & Protect: Officer Down



(This is the eight story in this series. I have tried to put enough information into it so that if you have never read any of the others you can still enjoy this one by itself.)

The woman circled slowly around her intended prey. She carefully kept her weight balanced, sliding one foot after the other. She narrowed her circle, closing in on the man before her. He looked around wildly. Since she had the door blocked, he attempted to scramble over the bed. She lunged when he was midway through his attempt and pulled him down.

In spite of his struggles, she pinned him under her. Giving him a feral grin she declared, "You're mine, my pretty. And your little dog too!"

"No, no, a thousand times no," responded her victim in a high falsetto.

The woman threw back her head and gave an evil chuckle of triumph. However, in doing so her attention wavered and he suddenly flipped her off him. Before she could recover, he had smothered her under his much larger body. Trapping a wrist firmly in each big hand, he leaned down and licked the side of her neck.

"He who laughs last, laughs best," he murmured just before his teeth grazed her throat. He sucked the soft skin and began to bite gently.

"Michael Thomas Gibson, don't you dare! I am not going out today with a hickey!" She locked her legs around him and twisted her petite yet strong body. As she did, he abandoned her throat and rolled with her. He locked his mouth to hers and wrapped his arms around her. Still kissing her deeply, he ended on his back, pulling her on top of him.

"Better?" 

"Much," she giggled. She slipped down her husband's body, feeling his hard cock slide over her stomach and then between her breasts. She dipped her head and took him into her mouth, sliding her lips over his shaft until she had completely engulfed him. She felt him throbbing in her warm, wet mouth. She began to suck him, her lips moving up and down on him, until he was so hard it felt like his cock was iron.

She released him. She kissed his ball sack and then ran her tongue up the underside of his cock until she reached the head. Lapping it, she looked up towards him and winked.

With that he suddenly reached down and caught her under her arms. Pulled up by his powerful hands, she spread her legs until her pussy was right over his raging cock. She rose onto her knees and in one motion brought herself down onto him, driving him all the way up inside her.

"Oh yeah, Pat," Mike sighed with deep contentment. His hands grasped her hips and held her firmly as she began to flex her knees, bouncing rapidly up and down on him. Her hands cupped her breasts, her fingers playing with her nipples.

Pat felt herself building rapidly. "Nothing like a nice pre-work tumble to start the day right," she thought to herself. Her strong firm legs sped up their contractions. She brought herself higher and higher each time she rose up, until only the head of Mike's cock was in her. Then she dropped herself all the way down, ramming him up her, his cock head slamming into her g-spot.

"Michaellllllllll," her husband's name came out in one long, deep moan as she locked her herself down onto him. His only response was to pull her down onto his up thrust and empty himself into her.

Pat leaned forward, snuggling on his still broad chest. Her arms went around his neck and his around her back. They held each other in comfortable silence, until the alarm clock by the bed started its infernal racket.

"Daylight's a'wasting, Honey," Pat commented as she leapt from the bed and scampered for the bathroom. 30 minutes later they were showered and getting dressed. 

"Hold on, Mike." Pat unpinned the left pair of silver bars identifying him as a Captain and adjusted them. Stepping back she smiled, "Now you look ready to meet the world as the responsible senior police official you are." She finished dressing in her favorite jeans and a blouse. Finally she threaded her pancake style holster through her belt and loaded and holstered her service weapon. He had swung his equipment belt on at the same time, putting his S&W in the breakfront holster he favored.

"So what are you and Stephanie going to do today?"

Pat smiled as she pulled her jacket on. "Mostly girl things. Its so nice to have a day off together. We're going shopping, eat lunch and run all those accumulated errands you always beg off."

"Me?" Mike attempted to put on an indignant face but couldn't hold it and began to laugh. "Well, I know there's some reason I keep you around."

"Just one?" Pat said innocently as her fingers brushed over the front of his uniform trousers. With a wink she slipped out of their bedroom, calling for their younger daughter.

After a very happy morning of shopping, Pat and Stephanie settled in at one of their favorite Italian restaurants for lunch. Pat contented herself with a salad, enviously watching her daughter devour an entire plate of pasta. She sighed, remembering when she could do that too.

"Mother?" Stephanie interrupted Pat's thoughts. Although Pat was not her birth mother, she and her older sister had called and thought of Pat as their mother for many years.

"What, sweetheart?"

"You and Daddy aren't upset by my not wanting to be a cop are you?"

"Good lord, no Honey, not at all. You want to be a doctor for goodness sake. We think its fantastic."

"Well," Stephanie squirmed a bit, "Its just with Carol on the department and all, I wondered if you wanted me to do that too."

Pat reached over and took her daughter's hands. "You follow your dreams. Your father and I are thrilled. Besides, it will be nice having a doctor in the family when we get old and gray. You will give family discounts won't you?" Pat's eyes twinkled.

"Twenty-five percent right off the top," Stephanie answered with a straight face.

"I just wish you could be going full time to college right now. I know," Pat raised her hand, forestalling Stephanie. "I know you like being an EMT. Its good experience and heaven knows your brothers get into enough scrapes and situations that its very good you are."

"Okay, Mom. Now what would you like for dessert?" Amusement danced in Stephanie's eyes as her mother groaned.

After lunch, Pat and Stephanie ran their errands one by one. The next to the last stop on their checklist was a visit to the bank to cash an expense check Pat had received from the department. That would allow them to avoid writing a check at the grocery store and still leave some money left over for a family evening out.

Although she had not mentioned it to her younger daughter, Pat had an ulterior motive for the bank visit. Knowing the fulfillment of Stephanie's dream to be a doctor was going to be expensive, Pat intended to chat quickly with a friend who was one of the loan officers. While money was not a problem yet, it wouldn't hurt to explore some of the financing options open to them.

"Honey, would you cash this with Mrs. Johnson?" Pat fished the check out of her jacket. She waved to one of the tellers, who smiled back. "I've already signed it. I need to talk to Mrs. Rabinowitz for a minute."

"Sure, Momma." Stephanie got in line and Pat headed to the loan officer's office.

"Hi Pat, how are you this morning?"

"Just fine Sarah." Pat answered. "Sarah, sometime when you have a little spare time, could you rough up some figures and costs for different loans? I guess an equity line of credit or perhaps a new mortgage would be best."

"Sure, Pat," Sarah replied in surprise. "Its none of my business, but can I ask why? Your house is paid for and you don't have any outstanding loans." She laughed, "Although you might if you could ever persuade Mike to buy a new truck."

Pat laughed along with Sarah and explained. "So we've saved some money," she concluded, "But hardly enough to put five kids through college, much less pay for medical school too. But I don't want her to have to work and go to school at the same time. I did and Mike did, but not to get grades like they want for med school."

"Oi vay," Sarah put on a mock Yiddish accent. "So instead your daughter marrying a nice doctor she's going to be one?" Pat burst out laughing. Although Sarah and her husband were two prominent members of the local Conservative Temple, they both had deep Southern accents and the attempt at speaking otherwise fell flat on its face.

The mirth was brought to an immediate halt as two masked men burst through the bank front doors. They carried drawn handguns.

"Nobody move!" Shouted one of the men. "Do as I say and no one will get hurt."

For an instant Pat debated drawing. They were both in front of her and she had clear shots. Then two more masked figures slipped through the door. The last one locked the bank doors behind him and then sprinted to the side door and secured it too.

"Oh great." Pat thought swiftly, holding her hands in plain view. Four holdup men. No, she corrected herself, one was female. Far too many to take any chances with. It was better to simply wait the situation out and gather as much information as she could. They were only after money, and that could always be replaced. She started taking mental notes as the holdup crew fanned across the floor. One remained at the door. The second, the spokesman, moved into the middle of the room. The other two fanned out to the cashier windows, vaulted the railings and started scooping up the money.

She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. A heavy set man near the far end of the room slipped a hand inside his coat and then withdrew it. Pat caught the flash of what might be a gun butt.

"Don't do it, don't do it," she tried to plead silently with the man. It seemed to work. He relaxed and held his hands away from his body.

Everything was going quickly. As perverse as it sounded, in one way Pat was very glad it was. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen some confusion getting behind the counter but that was it. She was certain someone had tripped the silent alarm and deputies would be responding. The last thing she wanted was a hostage situation, especially with her daughter involved.

The leader had been taking quick glances at a stop watch. "That's it, time's up," he announced suddenly. Stuffing the watch in his pocket he waved to the two figures scooping from the cash drawers. One turned and rushed out while the other, seemingly too excited to pay attention to the command, moved further to another cashier.

"I said, MOVE!" shouted the leader. The second bandit lifted his head. Startled, he attempted to vault over the counter through the window. There was a ripping noise and suddenly money went flying all over the floor. The robber sprawled out and then began to frantically pick up the bills next to him.

A distant electronic wail seemed to galvanize everyone. "Cops are coming," the leader shouted. "Leave it, lets go," he directed the man on his knees trying to grab the flying currency. The man rose and started towards the door. The another siren answered the call of the first one. Then a third one, closer than the first two.

The closing sirens seemed to trigger a reaction in the heavy set man. Suddenly his hand darted inside his coat and he brought out a heavy automatic. "FBI!" he shouted. "Nobody move!"

"Well, that's torn it," Pat thought. Flipping her jacket back with a practiced move, she drew her Glock 9 mil. She thumbed the safety off, her free hand speeding to meet her gun hand. Her body turned to one side, moving slightly to distance herself from Sarah and angling to cover the two gunmen nearest her. "Sheriff's Department!" she shouted.

Trying to keep the two holdup men focused she spared a glance at the other side of the room. The lead criminal's pistol had started moving towards her. "Why doesn't the FBI guy shoot? Can't he see the guy drawing down on me?" flashed through her mind. "Its almost as if..."

"OH SHIT." All FIVE weapons were turning towards her. The FBI man was a fake, rung in to, to what? Expose any plainclothes officers in the bank? That didn't make sense. Part of her mind screamed at her to drop her weapon, but the cop was in full control and it was too late as she shot twice at the farthest gunman. She swung her weapon towards the next one, feeling like it was dragging through cold molasses. The sights swept over the fake agent and the pistol bucked twice more. She saw the gun muzzles steadying on her and she braced herself. Then two hammer blows threw her backwards and all she could see was the white ceiling and all she could feel was the cold, marble floor under her.

"Oh MY GOD!" Frank Colbert almost numbly lowered the muzzle of his gun. This wasn't supposed to happen. No one ever got hurt in their robberies, they planned them too carefully, with a host of safeguards and backup plans.

Today had been no exception. Everything had been carefully scouted and mapped. Not just the escape routes from the bank either. Casing the inside had involved the use of mini-cams and the drawing out on an old warehouse floor a full scale outline of the bank's interior. They knew just how long it would take to do their business and practiced it against the expected arrival time of the police.

Everything had been going according to plan until Murphy struck. The door at the far end of the tellers had been locked and they had wasted precious seconds getting it opened. Of all ridiculous things, the bag Sam was using caught on a sharp projection on the last cash drawer he visited and the money spilled everywhere. 

They all remained calm. Someone had hit the silent alarm, as expected and the police were coming. He had given Brian the nod and Plan B had gone into operation. Pretending to be an FBI agent, he would heroically arrest the robbers. The other three members would arrive, making up the rest of the "FBI Task Force" and take away the gang members and the money, as evidence.

What the plan didn't take into effect was the petite woman by the loan office turning out to be a cop and apparently deciding to back up the supposed Federal Officer. The unexpected shout and appearance of her firearm had startled everyone, including Brian, into turning their weapons towards her. She reacted by shooting, first Charles and then Brian. And he, Frank Colbert, had just shot a cop.

The screaming that had rung through the bank during the gunfire stopped. There was only a second's pause though before a young woman at one of the windows screamed "Mother!" and scrambled towards the fallen police officer. In reflex his gun swung towards her but he was able to hold his fire and command her "Stop!"

She halted. Looking frantically at him she pleaded, "Please. I'm an EMT. PLEASE, let me see to my mother." She looked sharply at him. "You don't want a dead cop in here. They don't like it much." He hesitated and she added, "Much better a live hostage than a dead heroine, damnit."

"Okay," Frank granted. "But you see to my people too." He reached down and picked up Pat's fallen service weapon.

"Of course I will." Stephanie reassured him. Kneeling beside her mother she assessed the wounds, while thinking to herself. "His PEOPLE, eh? Then I wasn't wrong. That so-called FBI agent is in on this too. This is pretty deep. I need to let someone know. How? Think, Stephanie, think."

Captain Mike Gibson was sitting in the office of Captain Linda Shannon, Commander of the Narcotics and Alcohol Enforcement Section. In his position as Commander of Tactical Response, which included his beloved SWAT as well as the Bomb Squad and K-9, he was discussing various possible upcoming raids with her. They were eagerly comparing ideas, each hoping for a chance to get back out in the field. While they had settled in to the desk bound administrative positions their ranks compelled, they both missed street police work.

They had left the door open and the scanner on Linda's administrative assistant's desk was crackling with the stream of routine calls a law-enforcement agency always had to deal with. Both their heads turned slightly towards the sound of the dispatcher sending two units to investigate the report of a silent alarm at the Planter's Trust Bank.

"Hope that's another false one," Mike commented. "Pat and Steph were supposed to run by there."

"Well, it would be the fourth one this month," Linda replied. "Wish the commissioners would pass that resolution levying a surcharge after a certain number of false alarms."

They resumed their conversation only to be interrupted by the "Beep, beep, beep" signaling an all units call. "All available units, we have an armed robbery in progress at the Planter's Trust at 1427 Walnut Street." The dispatcher took a deep breath and continued. "We have a report of shots fired and an officer down. Repeat, shots fired and an officer down at the Planter's Trust."

Linda shot an immediate look at her oldest friend. Mike had turned completely white. "Hold on," she said as she tried to remain calm. She picked up the phone and called the dispatcher's office on the intercom. She identified herself, spoke rapidly and listened before hanging up. She turned to him and took a deep breath.

"Its Pat, isn't it?"

"Yes. Bob Johnson called from inside the bank. Apparently there was a shootout involving her, an FBI agent and the bandits. Its pretty confusing, but he saw her get hit. He's not sure who else might be hurt."

He nodded as he walked to her phone. He picked it up and punched an intercom number. "Saddle up," was all he said. They left the office together.

"Mister," Stephanie said as calmly as she could manage. "There's a first aid kit in the lounge. May I get it?"

"No. I can't afford to let you out of my sight." The leader waved to the robber standing by the door. "You go. Pick an employee to show you where it is."

"I'll show him," Sarah Rabinowitz offered, her face white.

"Thank you, Ms. Sarah," Stephanie said.

Moments later Steph had the well stocked emergency kit in her hands. Using the scissors provided she carefully cut away her mother's shirt. One round had taken her in the stomach, the other in her chest. Checking behind Pat with exquisite care, Stephanie discovered the bullets had lodged in her mother's body. Working quickly to stem the blood loss, she bandaged the wounds and turned her mother on her side to keep the good lung from being flooded.

After finishing with Pat, Stephanie checked both the other gunshot victims. Fortunately neither was wounded as seriously as Pat. She bandaged one's shoulder and arm. Then she approached the FBI agent. She quickly took care of him. One bullet had creased his side and the other had hit the fleshy part of his thigh. He was awake and cussing a blue streak about "That Bitch" who had shot him.

Steph added it up in her mind. Four empty shell casings by her mother. Four wounds. That FBI agent was definitely in on it. Her mother didn't make mistakes like shooting the wrong person. Saying nothing she finished her first aid and returned to Pat's side as the bank phone rang.

Outside, Detective Josh Williams from the Intelligence Division set up. He was the Department's trained negotiator. His first step was to call the bank. He was calm and collected, talking quietly to the man he figured was the main suspect.

Before Mike could do much more than establish the perimeter, two vehicles painted in monotone dark colors with blackwall tires pulled up. One was a standard Ford LTD, the other was a panel van. Three men exited them. One waved a folder in the air. "I'm Agent Fording of the FBI. Who's in charge here?"

"I am," Mike replied. "Captain Gibson, Tactical Response. This is Detective Williams who's our negotiator."

"Well, that's great, but we'll take over now. Bank Robbery is a Federal crime and falls under our jurisdiction."

"I don't care," responded Mike with some heat. "This is our county and its," he checked himself before giving too much away, "its one of our officers who's been wounded in there."




To Serve & Protect: Officer Down



"Captain?" interjected Josh diffidently. "There's an FBI agent inside also. He's apparently been wounded too."

"Captain, that settles it then. I will take over."

"The hell you will." 

Back in the bank events were moving. "Okay," announced the leader. I want everyone into the vault. Move now and you won't be hurt." The bandits carefully searched the bank. They found two other people hiding in offices. Everyone was moved to the vault.

In short order everyone but Stephanie and Pat had been secured in the bank vault. The leader had given in to Steph's pleas that moving her mom would be too dangerous. He had agreed and gone back to waiting by the phone. At his nod the vault had been locked.

Stephanie knelt beside her mother. She used a wet towelette to wipe her mother's face. She struggled to control her worry. Her mother's eyes were open but not focused. Her face was white and drawn. Stephanie spoke in low measured tones, reassuring her mother that everything was going to be alright. She realized she was using the same type voice her mother used when something frightened or disturbed her.

Stephanie had only been four years old when her birth mother had died. Four years after that Pat had come into the lives of her family when she had been assigned as her Dad's new partner. She and her sister had taken Pat to their hearts when she began to spend more and more time with them after meeting her at a Departmental picnic. They had watched her and their father grow closer and finally fall in love. It had not been immediate, but several years after the marriage, Carol and Stephanie had come to realize that they no longer thought of their father's wife as "Pat". She had become "Mother".

Stephanie's eyes blurred. Shaking her head with determination she began talking again to her mother. Whether she could hear her or not, Steph wasn't sure. She knew it helped, that it gave her mother a point to focus on.

"Who are you talking to?" snapped a voice from behind her.

Managing not to jump, Steph looked over her shoulder. "To my Mother. I'm trying to keep her conscious." 

"Alright," the man said. He stooped and picked up Pat's folder with her ID card and gold badge. "Lieutenant Gibson, huh? What's your name?"

"Stephanie Gibson."

"Okay Stephanie Gibson. Thanks for patching up my people. He paused. "I'm sorry this happened. I wish it hadn't. If things had gone right no one would have been hurt."

Stephanie nodded. The man moved back towards the front window. When Steph looked down she saw her mother's eyes were a bit clearer now and looking at her. 

"Its going to be okay Mom. I've stopped the bleeding." She continued to talk like that for a sentence or two more. Then as inspiration hit her, she continued in the same low, soothing voice, "Mom, is the FBI guy a fake?" Pat feebly nodded.

Stephanie resumed talking. At the same time she looked around. She spotted her mother's purse, contents spilled beside her. She reached down carefully. With only a brief glance down, she opened her mother's cell phone and pressed a speed dial number.

Outside the bank Linda had walked away from the argument between Mike and Agent Fording. She didn't like the agent's usual FBI "I'm in charge" attitude but at the same time she knew Mike was too close to the situation to see clearly.

She leaned on the side of a squad car and took a deep breath. Her cell phone rang and she looked at it, first in annoyance and then in shock as she recognized the number. 

Stephanie's heart leaped when she heard Linda's whispered voice. She leaned closer to Pat, which brought her nearer to the phone. In amongst the continual stream of reassurances to her mother, Steph filled Linda in on what was happening inside the bank.

"Okay," Linda took the chance of replying, "I've got it. Shut the phone off before anyone sees you. I know what to do. It will all be okay sweetie." 

Closing her phone, Linda walked back over to the still arguing pair. With an apologetic smile at Fording, she collared Mike and pulled him off to the side. "Let me talk to him for a moment, Agent Fording. Hopefully I can make him see sense."

Once they were out of earshot Linda began. "Don't move, don't flinch, don't jump, Mike. Just remain calm while I tell you what's going on." In quick words she told him what she had received from inside the bank and the plan she had devised to handle the situation.

Mike took a deep breath and calmed himself. Acting as a professional again, he threw an angry look at the FBI agents, waved his arms wildly at Linda and then stalked off.

Fording smirked and entered the FBI van to conduct his own talks with the robbers. In an astonishingly short time he emerged to announce that the robbers were giving up.

As everyone exited the bank with their hands in the air the FBI team quickly searched them, relieved them of their weapons and cuffed them. The wounded gang member and the wounded agent went into one ambulance, the others into the unmarked van. The agent who had entered the bank exited with the two bags of money in his hands. He stood aside for a moment as the ambulance crews rushed into the bank. He casually opened the trunk of the car and threw the bags in.

Agent Fording got in his car. The second agent with the money got in the van and the last one climbed into the ambulance with the two injured men. With a curt "Thank You" from Fording to Linda, the three vehicles started out of the parking lot.

Frank sank back against the hard metal bench in the back of the van. He exchanged smiles of relief with the rest of the team. They had made it. The third "agent" would find an excuse to stop the ambulance and tie up the driver. They would meet at a designated location and get the two wounded men to a doctor who asked no questions and answered none.

Suddenly brakes screeched and they were all thrown in a heap as the van skidded to a stop. The rear door flew open under the blows of some strange tool and then there were two assault rifles and a shotgun covering them. 

"Nice try," One of the urban camouflaged officers said, with a tight grin that had no hint of mirth in it. "No cigar."

Frank and his compatriots were carefully taken out of the van. There was a commotion from the front of the van. A female voice shouted, "Mike. NO!" Frank found himself pressed up against the side of the van. A very large officer in SWAT gear had a forearm across his throat and a pistol aimed between his eyes.

Frank struggled to breath. A strangely detached part of his brain noted that the barrel of the pistol looked to be about the size of the Holland Tunnel. His eyes dropped to the front of the man's uniform. The embroidered nametape sewn to the jacket read "Gibson."

"Oh SHIT." Frank thought numbly. "Well, if you're going to fuck things up Frank, do it right. Shoot a cop, who's husband is a cop too." Numbly he watched as the enraged man thumbed the hammer back on his pistol, ignoring all cries and pleas from the other officers.

The confusion and uproar was penetrated and silenced by a young voice. "Daddy?" The man twisted his head to look and Frank's gaze followed his. The pressure on his throat eased a bit, as the young woman from the bank, Stephanie he thought, came towards them.

The young EMT walked up to the man and touched his arm. "Daddy, put it away and go see to Momma." When the officer stood fast, the young woman continued, "NOW Daddy. She needs you. And we all need you. Don't throw everything away. He's not worth it."

Stephanie trembled for a moment. She had never seen her father so filled with anger. Then he relaxed and stepped back, carefully uncocking his S&W. His eyes met hers and softened. "You always could tell me what to do Princess." He turned and almost ran to the ambulance, jumping inside just before it roared off.

"Thank you," came in a wheezing voice. Steph looked at the gang leader as color returned to his face. Two deputies firmly grasped him by the arms.

"Its okay. You let me see to her. I thank you for that. Besides, I hardly want my father to go to prison for blowing your head off in front of 50 witnesses."

As the able-bodied crooks were lead away, Deputy Sue Adams touched Stephanie's arm. "Come on Steph. Ride with me. We'll get someone to take your mom's car home later." Stephanie nodded and slipped into the passenger side of Sue's unmarked unit. Sue started the engine, clamped the portable blue light on the roof and gunned the car.

The hospital was packed. Linda had gone to pick up the boys from school. All five Gibson children crowded around their father. Linda kept her arms around the twins and Sue stayed with Mike, Jr. Carol was in uniform, having been called off patrol with her partner Roger Wilson. Stephanie kept a close eye on her father, holding his hand.

Inspector Donaldson, the commander of the Central Precinct came through the outside door. "Any word?"

Mike shook his head. "She's in surgery, that's all we know."

A man in his late fifties came out of the operating room. "Captain Gibson?" he asked. At Mike's nod he continued. "I'm Dan Clancy, head of Emergency Surgery. Your wife is going to be just fine." A cheer went up from the assembled officers and family.

"Incidentally the two injured robbers are going to be fine too," Dr. Clancy added. Turning to Stephanie, he continued, "And you, young lady, did an excellent job of bandaging them. More importantly, its thanks to your actions that your mother is going to live."

Stephanie blushed. The Doctor wasn't through yet though. "Before we operated I talked to Lieutenant Gibson, your mother, I mean. She was pretty determined to tell me about you and that you have your heart set on being a doctor yourself." At Stephanie's startled nod, he went on, "Have you thought about what kind of specialty you might go into?"

"Yes, Doctor Clancy. I'd like to become an Emergency Room Doctor. Its why I became an EMT in the first place."

"Well, it so happens that the foundation that supports the hospital offers scholarships to deserving young people in the community who want to go into medicine. One is specifically designed for your interest. You promise four years here in the ER and the foundation will pay your way through medical school. I would be happy to go over the details with you and your parents. I would also be happy to sponsor you for it."

"Wow." Stephanie struggled to come up with other words. She couldn't. She threw her arms around the doctor and hugged him.

"Oooffff. Now then young lady, that's no way to treat an old man. Besides, when you come here as an intern I'll be working you so hard you'll never want to see me again, much less hug me." Doctor Clancy struggled to maintain a serious face but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

Stephanie let him go, but at the same time stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "Can we see her now?"

"Yes you can, but two at a time only. Mike, you can stay, but the rest of you need to take turns and don't tire her out. She needs rest.

The days flew by and Pat was released to come home. The administrative hearings had all taken place while she was in the hospital and the shootings had been pronounced "Good". She remained on convalescent leave. She had been firmly ordered by the Sheriff to stay home as she had attempted to slip into her office after only a week out of the hospital. 

After several weeks there came an afternoon when Mike and Pat were alone in the house. He had made lunch and had settled down in his recliner to read.

"Mike, come here," came the call from the bedroom.

"What is it, honey?" Mike responded breathlessly as he rushed into the room. Pat was standing on the far side of the bed, clad in her old terrycloth robe. "Should you be out of bed?"

"Close the door, Mike." She directed. "And for goodness sake you heard the doctor the other day! I'm fine."

Mike closed the door. As he turned Pat walked around the bed. She slipped her robe from her shoulders. Mike gasped. Pat was wearing her black silk baby doll nightie. She had on matching black high heels and nothing else.

"Are you sure," Mike almost stammered, both from the rising excitement he displayed by the immediate swelling between his legs and from concern.

"I am not made of glass, Michael Gibson. I'm fine, I'm healed," she called over her shoulder as she turned to the bed. Kneeling on the edge she leaned forward onto her hands. She looked back with a roguish smile and winked. "And I'm so damn horny for my husband if he doesn't get over here in the next 5 seconds I'm going outside dressed as this and see if I can't get someone else to take care of me."

Pat wiggled her bottom and grinned as Mike walked across the floor, shedding his clothes as he did. "No need to go to strangers," he smiled broadly as he took her hips in his hands. "Now where were we last time?"

(The End)

(Thank you Marian, for being the best and sexiest editor ever. Thank you Linda, for your support and suggestions. And thank you reader, for your feedback and comments. I appreciate them all.)



To Serve and Protect: Palm Beach



(The characters from "Silk Stalkings" are copyright by Stephen J. Cannell Productions. No infringement is intended. For "Silk" fans, this would have taken place between "Partners - 2" and "Glory Days". For my own "To Serve and Protect" series, this would be somewhere in the last half of "S&P: Mike and Pat", after the incident at the Senior Citizens' Center but before the end. As for airport security, this story is set long before 9/11.)

"Lance! Lorenzo! In my office. Now."

Sergeant Chris Lorenzo cocked an eye towards the open glass door the summons had issued from. "Wonder what Cap is excited about?"

Sergeant Rita Lee Lance shrugged, an action that caused her entire body to move in a way that Chris found wonderful. She rose from her desk and started towards their commanding officer's office. She looked over her shoulder "If you come along Sam, you'll probably find out."

"Right," Chris said sheepishly, tucking his momentary appraisal of his partner into the back of his mind. He followed Rita into Captain Harry Lipschitz's office. Even as he did so, he couldn't resist the opportunity to enjoy the way Rita's legs moved under her short skirt.

"Close the door and sit down," growled Harry. He raked through the papers on his desk.

"What's up Cap?" asked Chris as he and Rita settled themselves in the two chairs before the over-burdened desk.

Harry found what he had been looking for. He looked at the papers he picked up, then peered over the top of his glasses at the duo.

"You recently arrested a bunco artist going by the name of Roland Shelby, real name Edward Green.

"Yeah," nodded Chris.

"A real piece of work," Rita added. "He was running a 'Detective Agency' that purported to check on cheating spouses. Only he didn't have a P.I. license, a business license and his so-called 'operatives' were just muscle. He discovered there was more than one way to make money out of the job. If the partner was really cheating, he'd blackmail them by threatening to reveal the affair and promise to keep it quiet for large sums. If his half-assed investigation showed that the partner was innocent, he'd manufacture evidence that they were playing around. He found the clients paid better when they thought they were getting something for their hard earned bucks."

"He surprised us," recalled Chris as he leaned back in his chair. "Most con artists come quietly when they're caught, protesting their innocence to the end. Green pulled a gun and tried to make a fight of it. Not a good one, but a fight never the less."

"Well, this is why," Harry waved one of the pieces of paper he had been holding. "Green is wanted in Georgia for murder. Apparently he ran the same game up there and one of his attempted blackmail victims ended up dead."

"So what's that got to do with us?" inquired Rita.

"Murder is a good bit more serious than flim-flam, even with Blackmail thrown in. Green just lost his attempt to fight extradition. Two deputies from the Jackson County Sheriff's Office are flying down late this afternoon. They'll take charge of him and carry him back to Georgia. You were the arresting officers so I want you to meet them, walk them through everything and get them on their way with happy memories of Palm Beach."

"Okay Cap."

Harry rummaged through more papers. "Here's the complete file, including copies of the extradition order as well as descriptions and photos of the Georgia cops. And be careful. Green's bully boys have probably fled the area but keep a lookout for them anyway."

Rita and Chris left Harry's office. Rita got her pocketbook from the desk drawer she kept it in and Chris donned his jacket.

"Your car or mine?" asked Chris.

Rita eyed Chris' car with her usual uncertainty. "Let's take my Jeep. We want to be at the airport before the Georgia cops arrive, not after they've left again."

"Sam, you wound me. And my car." He checked his watch and frowned. "We've got plenty of time. What's the hurry?"

Rita smiled and opened the passenger door. She sat down slowly, deliberately allowing her short skirt to ride up her shapely legs. Chris pursed his lips in a silent whistle as it became apparent that Rita's underwear was basically nothing more than a couple wisps of black lace. Regaining his composure, he closed the door and sprinted around to the driver's side and climbed in. Unable to be more affectionate in the parking lot, their hands crept together for a moment before Chris started the car.

"Your place or mine?"

"Your loft. Its on the way to the airport. We'll be able to spend an extra ten minutes together."

"Outstanding!"

The moment they closed the door behind them Chris and Rita were in each other's arms. He kissed her as her arms went around his neck. Their tongues dueled together and his hands found the back of her legs. His fingers ran up the smooth, firm thighs, lifting her short skirt and then slipping under the hem of her panties. He lifted her in the air and she kicked off her heels. 

For her part, Rita clung to Chris, letting her body rub against him. Her legs dangling as he carried her towards the bedroom, she freed one hand and fumbled between them, pushing his sport jacket off and she began to unbutton his shirt.

As Chris moved them towards the bed, he released Rita's bottom long enough to unzip her skirt. Then as he carefully bent over and laid her on the bed, his fingers caught the hem of her panties and slid them down her legs. She, abandoning the last buttons of his shirt, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his slacks.

Chris tried to fight his way out of his slacks and underwear. Since he still had his shoes on, he overbalanced and with a muffled cry fell on to the bed. There was a loud thud as his holstered sidearm, still attached by the belt to his slacks, hit the floor. Chris stifled a curse. Intending to check to make sure all was right with his weapon, he saw Rita had squirmed out of her blouse and bra and had stretched out on the bed. One arm was draped fetchingly over her head. The other was pointed towards him and a crooking finger was beckoning him.

"Oh lover boy," Rita whispered with a naughty grin.

Chris had fought his way back to his feet intending to finish undressing. When Rita spoke, he stood still for a moment, his eyes drinking in Rita from her head to her toes. For so long they had fought this attraction, refused to acknowlege it, resisted its very existance. Now she was his and he was hers.

"Lover boy," crooned Rita again and Chris came alive.

By actual time it may have taken him longer than three seconds to get the rest of his clothing off. To the Sams it seemed an eternity. Then Chris had Rita back in his arms again and was showering her with kisses, even as his arms pulled her smaller lithe body against his.

Rita twined her arms around Chris' neck, running her fingers through his hair. Tongues met as the two detectives exchanged passionate kisses. Chris cupped Rita's breast, running a practiced thumb over the nipple. Rita slipped her leg between Chris' and became to slid her thigh along his stiff cock. The partners ran their hands over each other, enjoying the feel of each other's bodies. Chris ran his free hand down Rita's side and along the outside of her leg. Rita slipped a hand between them, touching Chris' flat stomach.

Without losing any contact, Chris rolled over onto his back, pulling Rita on top of him. With a happy cry, she sat up, straddled him and lifted herself into the air. Reaching down, she grasped his cock and guided it to her. She rubbed the head back and forth in her slit. Chris responded by pressing his palms against her breasts and stroking them in big circles. When Rita decided enough was enough and lowered herself onto Chris' raging hardon, he slid his hands down her sides and gripped her hips, pulling her down even as he thrust up and into her.

Rita rode happily up and down on Chris' cock. Unable to resist, Chris gave a whoop and cried out "Ride 'em cowgirl!" She responded with a grin and proceeded to bounce even harder and faster, holding one hand over her head as though she was riding in a rodeo. Chris did his best to buck her off, without actually doing so, but she hung on. And she hung on for a lot longer than eight seconds.

Finally Rita moaned, arched her back, and slammed herself down onto Chris. He pulled on her hips and held her in place as she wiggled wildly. Chris gave another yell and emptied himself in Rita. She released moments later, mingling the two detectives' offerings together. As their spasms slowed, Rita leaned forward, pillowing her head on Chris' shoulder. The duo snuggled together, whispering endearments to each other.

Two hours later, two happy detectives pulled up to the terminal at the Palm Beach Airport. Flipping down the visor sign that read "Police - Official Business", they parked in the "Reserved" area and went into the terminal. They scanned the arrival/departure board until Rita pointed.

"There we are. Flight 218. On time and arriving at Gate number 7."

The two Homicide detectives strolled down the concourse and settled in at the waiting area. It was only a few minutes before they heard the announcement that the flight they were waiting for had landed and was at the terminal.

"Sam, do you think we should have made some kind of sign?"

"I don't think so Chris," Rita replied. "After all," she flipped open the folder, "We have pictures right here."

"So we do." Chris craned his head over Rita's shoulder. "Say, she's kind of cute." Rita made a sharp movement with her arm and Chris gave an "Ouufff" as her elbow jammed into his stomach. "I just meant it as a general comment Sam, give me a break."

"Deputy Pat Morrison," read Rita. She turned the page. "Well, well, who do we have here? Sergeant Michael Gibson. Speaking of cute..."

"Well, not bad if you like your guys tall and muscled and dark," replied Chris, for lack of anything better to say.

"Oh I do," purred Rita. Before Chris could come up with a better comeback the passengers began to deplane and the partners stepped up to examine them.

"There they are," Chris gestured towards a duo coming down the jet-way.

"Quite a contrast," commented Rita.

Chris nodded. The male topped 6 feet by a couple of inches. His black hair was cut in a very short, military style. Around 200 pounds, his body gave the impression of strength. He was neatly, if conservatively, dressed in dark blue slacks and sport coat. 


The female was a good eight inches shorter than her companion, just slightly taller than Rita. Her dirty blonde hair was also cut short, although certainly not as severe as the guy's was. She wore fairly tight jeans, black running shoes and a white man's shirt under a leather jacket.

"Hmmmm," Chris muttered under his breath as the couple, apparently recognizing Chris and Rita as fellow officers, waved and began to work their way towards them. 

"What?" 

"Looks like Deputy Morrison might be the kind who would think you are cuter than me."

"Now Chris, don't jump to conclusions. We've worked more than one case involving lesbians and there was hardly a butch among them. Besides, what difference would it make? They're here overnight, they'll be gone tomorrow, I've got you and I don't lean that way anyway."

"Oh, I don't know. I remember Solange giving you that back rub once when you were hung over. Seemed to me you enjoyed her hands on you a lot."

"Fully clothed, in public and if she was trying to seduce me, well, it would have been with you thrown in too, even back then."

By then they had reached the two out of state officers. The male removed his sunglasses, revealing large dark brown eyes. 

"Hello, You all must be the Palm Beach PD officers." His voice was deep but controlled. His Southern accent was obvious. "I'm Mike Gibson and this is my partner Pat Morrison."

"I'm Rita Lance and this is Chris Lorenzo."

"Hi," the female officer smiled. "Nice to meet you both." Her voice, although definitely that of the South, didn't have the deep accent of Mike's.

Rita noticed that both Georgia cops looked them over, as Chris and she were doing to them. Mike seemed a bit dubious about Chris' outfit. Apparently pink shirts were not de rigueur in their department. His examination of Rita was quick and approving, although no more than she would expect of a polite man. 

Pat had also looked over Chris. Rita thought that wasn't too bad, Chris was definitely worth looking over. But then the woman spent a bit longer examining her than Rita felt comfortable with. Rita turned abruptly to Chris.

"Let's get down to baggage claim."

"Good idea," Mike said. "We need to reclaim our sidearms. I feel about half naked with out mine."

"But you're cute anyway," said Pat. Rita felt surprised. She had wondered if perhaps Chris was right, but then that comment seemed more like something Chris would say to her. It bespoke familiarity and friendship and perhaps a bit more. She shrugged.

The two Georgia cops each had a suitcase and a garment bag. Mike carefully snatched up the locked metal case with the red "Unloaded Firearms" tag on it that most cops referred to as "Steal Me First" tags. Mike opened the case and deftly passed Pat one holstered weapon before slipping out of his sport coat and donning a shoulder harness. Pat undid her leather belt and ran it through the slits of her pancake holster and resettled her leather jacket.

"So what's on the agenda?"

"Well," replied Chris. "We thought we'd take you on a quick tour of our operation, run you by the jail to see Green and then get you settled at your hotel."

"Sounds good," said Mike. Pat nodded her agreement. "We're supposed to have a rental car waiting for us. How about we pick it up and then follow you out to your station?"

"How about this?" suggested Rita. "Pat, you ride with me and Chris can go with Mike."

"Sounds good," replied the Georgia cops, almost in unison. Rita hid a grin at Chris' hang-dog expression. He found a moment to slide up next to Rita as the foursome walked to the car rental counter.

"I wanted to ride with you," he whispered.

"It will be good for you Chris," Rita answered with a straight face. "You can do some male bonding and all. Harry told us to be nice to them."

The drive to the station was without incident. By the time they arrived, the two females had learned a good deal about each other. Both were single and making their way in a business that still tended to look at females a bit dubiously. Both accepted that was how things were and were willing to go the extra mile to prove themselves every day. Both of them tossed off any thoughts of romantic relationships although both admitted past affairs that had not ended well. They discussed their partners and found each thought they had a great one. Rita told Pat about Chris' parents and his ex's and Pat revealed that Mike was a widower raising two young daughters. They both agreed that maybe someday, someday not being anytime soon, they both would like to have children of their own.

As they pulled into the Homicide Building parking lot and climbed out, Rita was struck by something. The casual tones she had used to hide her relationship with Chris had seemed to strike an echo when the other female officer declared the same lack of interest in romance.

Rita's considerations were swept away when they all entered the station. Captain Lipschitz was yelling for them the moment they passed through the office doors. There was a hasty introduction as Harry told them not to bother getting comfortable.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this," he said to the Georgia deputies, "But your prisoner is gone."

"Escaped?" blurted Mike.

"Worse and someone's head is going to roll over this. Somehow, the upgraded charges never made it to the jail. Therefore no one knew that he was charged with more than Fraud and when someone showed up and posted bond for that offense they simply released him."

"I'll be damned," observed Chris.

Harry pointed at his detectives. "You two hit the streets right now and find Green. The airport is covered as are the highways. He's not the kind to take the bus but the depot is being watched anyway. More than likely he's gone to ground and is hoping to wait it out until the heat dies down some."

Turning his attention to Mike and Pat, he continued. "I've been in touch with your Sheriff and he says not to come home without your prisoner. I don't mind you going along with Lorenzo and Lance. You're out of your jurisdiction but you are sworn and certified peace officers and you can act under color of their authority as long as you are together. Let me remind you that on your own you have no more authority than any ordinary citizen. So be careful."

Upon leaving the office, Rita went immediately to her desk and grabbed the phone. She was lucky on the third try. After a short conversation, she hung up and motioned to the other three.

"We're going to meet a snitch of ours, Cotton Dunn. He's a con-man from the word 'go', but he would never dream of hurting anyone. He's the kind that just baits the hook and lets the suckers line up to let themselves get taken."

Pat laughed. "I've known a couple of those, both in Jackson County and where I used to work before that."

"Oh, so you're not originally from the coast?" Chris noted.

"No, I first started out as a city officer north of Atlanta."

"How did you end up on the coast then?" Inquired Rita.

"Actually," Pat laughed, "I was on my way to Jacksonville where I had an interview with the PD there." She looked at her partner. "I got stopped for speeding, forgot I still had my sidearm in the glove box and got myself arrested. Fortunately a certain Sergeant managed to straighten everything out before I spent the night in jail myself."

"Yep," noted Mike. "The first time I ever saw her she was in handcuffs."

The foursome shared a laugh, then sobered.

"Guys," Chris said. "Rita and I will have to go to this meet alone. Cotton might clam up when confronted with people he doesn't know. "And really, Cap is right, you shouldn't go poking around here in Palm Beach."

"I agree," said Mike immediately. Pat nodded. "We'll go to the hotel." They exchanged cell phone numbers and Mike promised to call with their room numbers as soon as they were checked in.

"You might as well relax for a bit," said Chris. "We have to stroke Cotton and even he is going to have a time finding this character."

Chris and Rita met with Cotton, who declared that people like Green were a menace and caused trouble for everyone else. He would look into it. The two Palm Beach detectives began checking known haunts without success, fielding a call from Mike giving them the hotel information.

About dark, the twosome decided to break and eat. Since they were near Rita's apartment they went there and she fixed them supper. They snuggled together on the couch, reviewing the mostly negative information they had accumulated do far. they were still discussing their notes when the phone rang.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Rita made notes on the pad of paper she always kept by the phone. "Thanks a lot, Cotton." She hung up and turned to Chris. "Cotton came through. Our Mister Green is hiding down by the waterfront while he negotiates for a late night boat ride out of the country."

"Great." While Chris laced his shoes, Rita pulled Mike's card from her wallet and dialed first his cell phone, and when there was no answer, his hotel room.

"No answer at either number."

"Maybe they're at dinner, Rita," suggested Chris. "I doubt they've left the hotel."

When the Sams reached the hotel they poked their heads in the restaurant, and for good measure, into the hotel bar. No Mike or Pat. They went to the third floor where the deputies had adjacent, but not adjoining rooms. No response came from Pat's door. Impatiently, Chris rapped hard on Mike's door.




To Serve and Protect: Palm Beach



"Just a moment," came Pat's voice. There was a slight pause and then the chain rattled. The door swung open, and both of the Sams felt their jaws drop.

Pat was holding her pocketbook with one hand while digging into it with the other. She produced a twenty dollar bill just as her head came up. But what rocked the Palm Beach officers was that she was wearing nothing but one of the hotel towels wrapped around her. Chris mentally noted that her legs, although not as good as Rita's were worth more than being covered in jeans all the time.

Pat was speaking as her gaze lifted. "Boy, that was fast, we only ordered about 10 minutes..." her voice trailed off as she saw Chris and Rita, rather than the apparently expected room service.

"Ah, Hi!" Pat attempted to smile. She stood there, shifting from one bare foot to the other, even as the bathroom door opened and Mike came out. Like Pat, he was wearing only a towel. Now it was Rita's turn to decide that Mike looked very good, if maybe a little more muscular than Chris, and certainly with a good deal more hair.

"Honey, my wallet's on the dresser if you don't have enough... ohhhhh SHIT!" Mike turned red. He seemed to be considering diving back into the bathroom before he realized that it was a little too late. 

"Oh dear," was all Rita managed to say. Chris was speechless. He finally gained enough possession of himself to suggest that they come back in a few minutes.

"How about we meet you in the lobby?" suggested a still blushing Mike. "I assume you have news about Green?"

"Who?" replied Rita, still in a bit of shock. Realizing how out of it she sounded, she hastily rallied and agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, after a quick planning session the foursome headed out. Once again Pat rode with Rita and Mike with Chris. As they had agreed, when they reached the dock area, the guys pulled to the front door and the girls around back. Marked units were standing by around the corner. The hope was to quietly arrest Green and any of his henchmen, rather than create a possible stand-off by an overwhelming show of force.

Slipping through the doors, the two pairs of officers carefully searched the sprawling building. A muffled conversation from an office built into one corner drew them in that direction. Arm signals spread the foursome out in a tight arc as they hopefully closed in on their quarry. Weapons were quietly drawn and safeties snapped off.

Just as they neared the office, the door suddenly swung open and Green emerged along with another man, unfamiliar to Chris and Rita. They had taken no more than two steps before they spotted the officers and froze.

"Police!" commanded Rita sharply. "Hands in the air and don't move."

Neither of the two suspects showed the slightest bit of resistance as they complied. Chris unhooked his handcuffs, a move that Pat matched from the far side of the arc.

Rita's eyes flicked to the doorway behind Green and the other man. Was that movement? Even as the thought crossed her mind she saw the black muzzle of a pistol appear from one corner of the opening. Unable to make out a target, she flung herself at Chris even as she screamed a warning.

The Sams went down in a tumble as Rita slammed into Chris. Shots rang out, fortunately over their heads. The two Palm Beach officers rolled apart, their weapons swinging towards the unseen shooter.

From her angle Pat had the best view of the doorway and could make out the shadowy form doing the shooting. Her handcuffs dropped to the concrete. Her right hand rose, bringing her weapon up as her left hand streaked to take the pistol in a two-handed grip. Instead of aiming, she used the instinctive point and shoot method, firing as soon as her training told her the gun was on target.

There was a loud clatter as the shooter in the office fell, his weapon skittering into view it dropped from his hand. However the danger was far from over. Both Green and the other man produced hidden pistols and began to frantically spray bullets around. Unaimed though they were in the panic the subjects showed, the danger was very real as one shot barely missed Mike as he threw himself to the side and dropped to one knee. Two other shots chipped concrete between Rita and Sam. Faced with the utter recklessness of the two men, the officers had no choice but to return fire. Eight shots, two from each cop, tore into the suspects, ending the gunfight.

Sirens sounded and tires squealed as the back up units arrived and officers poured into the building. Chris and Rita took charge, arranging for the scene to be cordoned off and preserved, pending the arrival of Internal Affairs and the Shooting Review Team. Quick examinations had proved that the three men were dead.

Hours later the foursome reassembled at Homicide. All were still shaken from the shooting but being the experienced officers that they were, they were holding together. Rita smiled to herself at the aptness of that phrase. Not only had she and Chris managed to hug one another, she had seen Mike sweep Pat up on his arms, holding the petite female officer completely off the ground as he held her tightly, a grasp that she returned with interest. 

The Jackson County Deputies had to put off their departure for a couple of days until the Shooting Review was completed. All four officers were cleared, the shooting declared "Justified". Mike and Chris went off to the airport to make new reservations for the Georgia duo. They had announced after they completed that chore they were going to spend the afternoon working on Chris' car. Mike fancied himself a bit of a mechanic and itched to work on the Charger.

Left alone, Rita and Pat chatted about nothing for a bit. When Rita asked the other woman what she wanted to do while the guys were off bonding, Pat hesitated for a moment. She looked Rita over carefully, her gaze lingering on her as it had the first time they had met.

"Can I ask you something Rita?" 

"Oh boy," thought Rita. She had sensed something coming on and hoped it wasn't what Chris has thought at their first meeting. She had come to really like Pat and Mike and hoped a budding friendship wasn't going to be spoiled by a pass. Then she relaxed. After what she had seen between the two out-of-town officers there was no way that Pat was interested in her, or Chris or anyone else for that matter. 

"Rita, can you take me shopping?" Seeing Rita's jaw-dropping expression, Pat looked confused. She hesitated and then plunged ahead. "Rita, the way you dress. You make it so sexy and yet it seems so effortless and, damn it, practical. You've probably noticed that I'm sort of tomboyish. Well, I am but, I'd really like to be able to knock someone's socks off. The way you do Chris."

Rita smiled. "From the looks of things, I think you have already knocked Mike's socks off."

Pat blushed. "That wasn't the first time we've been together. But we have to be careful. Not only would they split us up as partners, but there's Carol and Stephanie to think about. I don't want to be blatant about what their dad and I are doing and I certainly don't want them to think that I'm trying to take their mother's place."

"You do love him though."

"More than I ever thought I could. And the girls, I adore them."

"I think I understand."

Pat laughed. "I know darn well you do. You might fool everyone else about how you and Chris feel about each other, but you don't fool me. I saw that even before you both risked your necks for each other in the dockside shootout."

Rita opened her mouth to protest, then saw it wasn't going to do any good. Instead, she surrendered. "Okay, lets go knock the socks off your guy."

Hours later the two women finished their exploration of Palm Beach's shopping districts. They arrived back at the hotel with less than an hour to go before the time they had told the guys they would meet them for supper. Giggling like school girls, Rita helped Pat carry her packages up to her room and change. While Pat dressed, Rita called Chris on his cell phone.

"Hey, there. How are you and Mike doing? Everything wrapped up? Good. Okay, meet us over at the Club Rialto for supper." She listened and laughed. "Oh yes, you're going to be surprised. DON'T say anything to Mike. He's the one in for a treat."

Mike and Chris were comfortably seated on a pair of bar stools when Rita came through the door. From the gestures the two guys were using, she guessed they were deeply engrossed in the usual male practice of swapping 'war stories' about their adventures on their departments. Chris, somehow sensing her arrival, looked over Mike's shoulder and smiled.

"Over here, Sam." Chris called.

Mike turned around. He peered past Rita, obviously looking for Pat. 

"She's making sure of our dinner reservations," Rita assured him. "Let's go, I'm starved."

The guys each tossed some money on the bar and stood up. Rita took the lead, chatting brightly about completely inconsequential matters. Chris looked at her in puzzlement. When she was sure Mike couldn't see, she winked at her partner.

"What's going on?" Chris whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"You'll see."

The trio swung around the corner. Rita had snagged Chris' arm and slowed him enough to let Mike get in front. As they reached the maitre'd, a woman standing there turned around and both Chris and Rita had to slam on the brakes to avoid running into Mike's back.

Rita had never really saw someone's mouth actually fall open in surprise. Mike's did. He stared in amazement at his partner. For it was his partner who was standing there, but a Pat he had never seen before.

Gone was the leather jacket, the jeans, the assorted t-shirts and men's shirts she usually wore. Instead of her running shoes or leather ankle boots, Pat wore black open-toed high heels, her painted toenails peeking out. Mike's eyes traveled up her legs, covered in sheer silk stockings that showed off her well formed legs. A dark blue skirt, cut two inches over her knees, was topped by a ruffled cream colored blouse. 

Nor did the transformation stop with her clothes. Rita had gone all out, taking the other woman to get her hair and nails done, as well as spending time with a cosmetologist that Rita trusted. All in all, the transformation was astounding.

Pat looked at Mike. Unable to resist, she twirled around. "Not bad huh?"

"Wow," said Mike quietly. "Honey, you look gorgeous."

"Thank Rita. She's the one who arranged for the whole thing."

"Thank you Rita. And Chris? Stop staring at my partner and stare at yours."

The four officers laughed and went into dinner. The conversation was enjoyable as they all swapped stories of adventures and misadventures that all cops seem to experience. Pat and Mike contributed spiritedly, although Mike couldn't keep his eyes off his partner. From the way the two Georgia deputies shifted their chairs bit by bit, Rita was willing to bet there was a lot of subtle touching going on under the table. As she and Chris were holding hands under the table cloth she decided it was no one's business but their own.

Supper was followed by a trip to the secluded club tucked away at the back of the hotel. The foursome shared a drink or two and danced to the music provided by a local band. Observing the proprieties, Chris and Rita switched off an occasional dance with Pat and Mike and sat out most of the slow numbers, although they managed two dances together that allowed them to hold each other.

The other pair was completely lost in each other. The Sams understood. Away from home, the visiting partners had an evening when they didn't have to hide their relationship and were determined to make the most of the opportunity. Eventually they all said goodnight. The last sight Chris and Rita had of the visitors that evening was as the elevator doors closed. Mike had swept Pat up in his arms and the two of them were kissing. Chris wanted to bet Rita that kiss wouldn't break until the other two cops were in bed. Rita declined, knowing a sure thing when she saw it.

The Sams arrived at the hotel and, as was now their habit, the girls rode together as did the guys on the trip to the airport. The Georgia visitors checked their luggage, including their sidearms and checked in at the airline counter. On the way to the gate, Mike contrived to drop back with Rita for a moment.

"Rita," Mike smiled. "Thanks for what you did for Pat."

"I enjoyed it," she smiled back. "I'm glad you liked it." 

"I did," the tall officer admitted, "But not completely for the reasons you might think." As Rita's questioning look Mike elaborated. "Don't get me wrong, I think she looked incredible last night and I'd love it if she keeps at it. But I think she looks marvelous all the time, no matter what she's wearing."

"It WAS all her own idea, the make-over I mean. She wants to be more what she thinks you want in a woman. More feminine, I guess."

"It gave her a huge boost in confidence and I thank you for that." Mike hesitated. "I don't know all the details, but at sometime in her past, someone really hurt her. Its made her doubt herself. I think she realizes now she is a match for anyone. Its not easy, she feels she's always competing with the ghost of Lori, my first wife."

"Is she?" asked Rita quietly.

"Not at all," Mike declared. "I loved Lori. She gave me our daughters and she'll always be a part of us. But she's gone and now I love Pat. Just like you love Chris."

"Has EVERYONE figured that out?" Rita all but moaned.

"No, certainly not. But two people in the same position as y'all are? Of course we spotted it."

The two of them rejoined Pat and Chris at the gate. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged, along with promises to call, write and visit. Then the Georgia cops were gone and Chris and Rita headed back to the office.

However the story didn't end there. It ended several months later when Chris found Rita with her feet propped up on the bottom drawer of her desk, an envelope in one hand and a square of stiff paper in the other.

"What gives, Sam?" asked Chris, noting the broad smile on his partner's face.

"Its from Mike and Pat."

"Oh? What's up?"

Rita leaned forward, offering the paper to Chris. He took it settled back and started to read aloud.

"Lieutenant Michael Gibson and Detective Pat Morrison invite you to join them when they exchange their vows... Hey! They're getting married! Good for them."

The two detectives shared a smile, then looked away as the same thought crossed their minds. "Maybe SOME day...".

(The End)

(Hugs and kisses to my editor and friend Marian, who worked hard on this despite the fact she had never seen Silk Stalkings and had no idea why I kept calling Chris and Rita "Sam". Since I can never leave well enough alone, any mistakes are mine made after she returned the story to me.) 



To Serve & Protect: Pat and Mike



(This is the fourth story in our ongoing "To Serve and Protect" series. The other stories can be found by following the link to my stories. While Linda carries on the adventures of our law enforcement friends following "Undercover Operatives" I decided to go back a bit and tell the story of how Pat and Mike met and fell in love. The events here take place before any of the events of the other stories, except for the flashback in the original Serve and Protect.)

Pat Morrison kept her eyes determinedly fixed on the unfolding road in front of her. Piled all around her in her battered 85 Ford were all her worldly goods. She had left the interstate behind several hours ago and was now nearing the coast, which meant she was now on the other side of the state from where she had left that morning. The other side and her now former lover Joyce. Pat slowed for a moment and blinked tears back. Setting her jaw she pressed again on the accelerator and sped back up.

As her car came around a curve Pat noticed a marked cruiser on the side of the road pointed towards her. She looked down at the speedometer. Great, 70 in a 55. She looked in her rear view mirror and groaned when the unit pulled out after her and activated its blue lights. She pulled right to the side of the road, shut off the engine and waited. "Wonderful," she thought. The pinholes in her pocketbook where her badge used to be would probably not impress this guy at all. She fumbled her driver's license out.

The officer pulled behind her and got out. He approached the car carefully, as all police officers do who want to see the end of their shift. Pat rolled the window down and extended her hand with her license before the officer, a sheriff's deputy Pat noted, could ask for it.

"Thank you Miss," the deputy acknowledged politely. "May I see your proof of insurance also, please."

"Certainly," Pat answered. She leaned across the car and opened the glove compartment. She had just a moment to realize what a mistake she had made when her now former service weapon was exposed. She heard the rasp of the officer's weapon against the leather of his holster and froze even before his shouted command.

"DON'T MOVE," the deputy commanded. She heard him activate his shoulder mike, "9L Lincoln to Dispatch. Officer needs assistance. I have an armed subject at my location."

"9L Lincoln 10-4," the metallic voice of the dispatcher answered. "All units, Officer needs assistance. Highway 143 by mile marker 38 southbound."

Pat heard another voice, a deep baritone audible even over the radio, "Dispatch, 9L, this is 9C Charles. I am enroute and will be there in 5."

Pat could hear the distant wail of a siren as the officer behind her instructed her, "Miss, place your hands slowly behind your head. Do it NOW." After Pat complied, he told her "Straighten up, keeping your hand behind your head. Do it NOW." He kept her like that until the first backup unit arrived. In short order Pat had been removed from the car, searched and cuffed. She maintained her calm, mad only at herself for forgetting to tell the officer about her weapon before the whole thing started.

"Miss Morrison?" Pat was able to recognize the male voice she had heard over the radio. "I'm Sergeant Gibson of the Jackson County Sheriff's Department." She looked up and categorized the man in front of her. About 6' 2", 200 pounds, well built, with short black hair. His eyes were invisible behind his sunglasses. "Please turn around." Strangely that statement seemed to sound more like a request than a command. She did and felt him take the handcuffs off. Turning back she saw he had removed his sunglasses and that he had smiling brown eyes, although somehow; even in the turmoil, Pat caught a glimpse of something faraway and sad in them.

"Miss Morrison, or I suspect I'm more correct when I say Officer Morrison, would you please tell me why you didn't identify yourself to Deputy DuPree when he first stopped you? It would have saved a lot of trouble."

Pat gaped. "How did you know?" she asked in surprise.

Sergeant Gibson laughed. "Pretty easy actually. You have a Glock 9 mil in a highride holster, obviously an off duty rig. Bob DuPree told me you almost anticipated his orders during the stop. You've either been busted a lot or you've been making arrests yourself. Finally, the FOP (Fraternal Order of Police) sticker that's on the bumper. Its not the one given to associate members, its the one given to real cops. So...?" He left the open sentence hanging in the air.

Pat sighed. She explained her situation, without going into deep details, about breaking up and deciding to leave her job and where she had been living. She didn't exactly say so, but she left the impression the breakup had been with a boyfriend.

By the time she finished she and the Sergeant were leaning on the hood of his squad car. He had called the other units off and reported all under control at the scene. He became silent for a moment than waved the original Deputy over and spoke to him for a minute in private. Returning to Pat he handed her the keys to her car and smiled. “Well, 24 hours is close enough for professional courtesy. Please put the darn pistol in the trunk and drive carefully.”

“Thank you,” Pat managed to reply. She smiled for the first time since she had walked in the door and caught Joyce in bed with that red headed woman. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Gibson replied. “Where are you headed?”

Pat pondered that question for a moment. “I really don’t know,” she admitted.

“Well if you don’t know, this is a pretty good place to be,” he replied. ”We’re on the coast, its not so hot as it is inland and our department is hiring. I don’t know you at all, but I can tell you don’t get flustered in a bad situation and that’s half of being a good cop.”

“And the other half?” Pat raised an eyebrow at the Sergeant.

He walked to his car and opened the door. He smiled. “You already know it, I can tell.” With that he climbed into his car and left, waving at her as he did.

Pat walked back to her car. She opened the trunk and placed her pistol inside. She looked after the departing cruiser and waved back. “Oh my,” she thought. She hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to guys anytime lately. Something about him though seemed to touch her. She looked around. “Wonder what it would be like to work here?” she thought.

Two weeks later Deputy Pat Morrison was sworn into the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department and assigned to the Uniform Division at the Central Preceint. Since she was already a state certified peace officer she went immediately to work.

Inspector Robert Brett walked Pat down to the briefing room. "Pat, usually we start new officers on the afternoon or morning shifts. However, considering your experience and the recommendation I received I'm going to put you on nights. You'll be partnered with another officer to teach you this part of the county and where the trouble spots are. You have, of course, county wide jurisdiction but we provide all the law enforcement in an pretty big county so learn this precient first. "

Pat nodded but then asked, "Recommendation? Who made one, someone from my old department?"

"No, right here as a matter of fact," Inspector Brett replied as they entered the briefing room. "Lieutenant Donaldson," he called. "Over here."

Pat met her shift supervisor and was introduced to the other officers on her shift. She found them the usual group found in any law-enforcement community, young and older; black, white and Hispanic; male and female. Lieutenant Donaldson waved them to their chairs and looked at the door. He tapped his fingers and gave an exaggerated sigh. The other officers laughed.

Just then a man came rushing through the door. Pat recognized him as the Sergeant she had met at the traffic stop.

"Ah, Michael Gibson, how nice of you to join us," the Lieutenant said. "And two minutes early! We are honored."

"Stuff it Will," was Gibson's comeback. 

"Mike, this is Deputy Pat Morrison," Donaldson introduced the two of them. "You'll be her FTO (Field Training Officer). Pat, I fear this disrespectful Sergeant is the best we can offer you at this time. If you have any problems with, punch him out and I'll write the paperwork to cover you. Now if we can get on with the briefing, please."

After roll call they went out to the line together to pick up their car. Pat looked at Mike. "You made that recommendation didn't you?"

"I did, Pat," he answered. He tossed her the keys with a grin. "You drive. Let's go learn the county."

Pat laughed. "Okay Mike." They got in the car and pulled away, already talking like old friends.

Pat and Mike made good partners. They quickly learned each others' quirks and were able to anticipate what the other was going to do in a given situation. After the three month probationary period finished they were assigned as permanent partners.

As close as they became they did not share off duty time together a lot. Occasionally they would go get a beer after changing clothes but by and large they parted at the end of their shift. They learned the basics about each other, homes and education and training. Pat learned Mike was a widower with two young girls and Mike knew Pat was single. Neither of them dated, Mike because he announced he had no time and Pat because she simply wanted to be by herself to recover from Joyce. There seemed to be no particular policy or opinion in the department or even in the county itself about same sex dating but Pat saw no one, male or female she was interested in. She did notice a very attractive dark haired narcotics officer talking to Mike on occasions but decided not to pursue anything with anyone for the time being.

After nearly a year on the job Pat found a notice in her box one day detailing the upcoming Department picnic. She thought about skipping it, until out of the blue Mike called her and asked if she would be there. To her surprise, she not only said yes, but found herself looking forward to it.

That day dawned clear and sunny. Pat was not the greatest cook but had managed to produce a bowl of potato salad she thought wouldn't kill anyone. She dressed in shorts and a loose top and sandals. She drove to the county recreation area by the pool. She had thrown her bathing suit in the car but didn't intend on swimming.

Pat was surprised and pleased by how many people stopped to her to say hello and introduce her to their families. She had met officers from the other precients on a random basis as well as the members of the Detective Unit assigned to Central. She worked her way through the crowd till she saw Mike. He waved and then turned to say something to the woman beside him. Pat recognized the woman as the narcotics officer she had seen before. The female officer kissed Mike on the cheek and left. Pat slowed for a moment. She shook her head. For one silly moment she had almost felt like she was jealous. "Nonsense," she thought.

For the rest of her life Pat told everyone that her complete downfall into domesticity started when she reached that picnic table. Before she even sat down she had fallen in love. Specifically with two preteenagers, Carol and Stephanie, Mike's two daughters. Carol was 12, serious and looked like her father. Stephanie was 10, bubbly and obviously took after her late mother. They smothered their father's partner with attention and demands for attention. Pat took them swimming, helped them eat too much junk food, played games and participated in various races and contests with them. By the end of the day she was exhausted. She helped Mike load everything in his pickup, including two very sleepy girls. 

"Pat?" yawned Carol. "Would you come home with us and finish the story you were telling?"

"Story?" Mike raised an eyebrow. 

Pat smiled. "I don't know how we got started on it, but I was telling them an old Rudyard Kipling story, "Puck of Pook's Hill". Tell you what Carol, if your dad doesn't mind I'll finish telling you the first adventure tonight, but the rest will have to wait."

Reaching Mike's home all four of them piled onto the couch together. Both girls snuggled beside Pat as she continued her story. Sometime near the end of it she fell asleep.

Pat rolled over the next morning and blinked her eyes. Where exactly was she? Then she heard a pair of giggles and as she opened her eyes just as the girls launched themselves at her. A wild tickle match ensured with all three surrendering at the end. Finally Mike's head poked around the doorway.

"Hey, if its safe now, breakfast is on. Come and get it."

That was the first night Pat spent in the spare bedroom at Mike's house. It would prove to be anything but the last. Over the next few months she became a fixture at the Gibson home. As partners they had the same work schedule so they began to fall into a routine of when the four of them went out to eat, what night was movie night and when they simply all sprawled around the house together. Pat became the older sister the girls had always dreamed of, the person they could share the hopes and fears of the young women they were becoming. She adored them and they loved her.

At the same time she was growing closer to Mike. She didn't talk much about her past. Mike talked a great deal about most things, except for the details of the loss of his wife. Pat knew she had died a few years back from cancer and he had been raising the girls alone for some time. Neither of them pushed things, letting them develop on their own.

Their first kiss was practically an accident. A late video night saw the next morning arrive with both of them asleep on the couch. Mike was slumped against the arm of the couch and Pat was snuggled on his shoulder. They were under a blanket, apparently provided by the girls. They stretched as they awoke and Mike simply leaned down and kissed her.

"Good morning sleepyhead."

"Me?" Pat replied. She kissed him back. "Look who's talking."

They went and had breakfast, neither of them actually realizing the line they had crossed. Four merry young eyes had seen it though and thoroughly approved.

One night the shift was shorthanded. Pat and Mike took separate cars. Around 4 AM as Pat checked the businesses on her beat she noticed the side door to the Senior Citizen's Center was ajar. She sighed and pulled up. Mrs. Robertson, the center's director, was a darling but was always forgetting to lock up. Noticing the battery was running low on her walkie-talkie she put it in the charger. She briefly called in as she got out of the car and walked up and into the center. 

Pat's instincts screamed at her as she entered the building. Dropping one hand to her holster she was unable to draw it as two shadowy figures pinned her against the wall. One managed to get her sidearm away from her as a third figure demanded frantically to know what was going on. Pat realized she had interrupted a burglary in progress. She knew she was in a very bad situation: no radio, no backup and with three men who were not thinking very clearly. Two were arguing they should "use her" and the third was in favor of simply shooting her right now. Pat didn't like either scenario and tensed herself to try for her backup weapon concealed in an ankle holster. A five shot 38 snub nose wasn't much but it was all she thought she had.

Suddenly a beam of light illuminated the three men, followed by the unmistakable "Cha-Chink, Cha-Chunk" of a pump shotgun being chambered. Mike's voice sounded from the darkness, "Billy Toliver, put that weapon down or I'll blow your goddamn head off your shoulders."

"NO SIR! Please!" the man with Pat's weapon all but begged in reply. He laid Pat's Glock on the floor and raised his hands over his head. 

"And get over there Lucas Pendleton and you too, James Beck. On your knees all three of you. I haven't shot anyone in a while and I'm worried I might forget how unless I stay in practice." Mike delivered his words without a hint of sarcasm and only an effort kept Pat from joining the three burglars. "Damn. he's scary when he needs to be," she thought.

In short order the other officers Mike had summoned arrived. They carted the suspects away, the three men still looking over their shoulders as though they expected Mike to start shooting any minute. From the look on his face Pat wasn't sure they were wrong. She had never seen him so angry. He turned to her and his expression changed to deep concern.

"Are you all right, Pat?" He deftly unloaded the live round from the shotgun's chamber and switched off the light attached under the barrel.

"Now I am," she swallowed. She holstered her weapon when another officer passed it to her. Mike noted her fingers still shook. He spoke quickly to Lieutenant Donaldson and then took Pat's elbow. 

"Come on. We're going to the station. Someone will bring your cruiser."

Once they arrived Mike told her to change clothes, they were off shift early. Pat went to the female locker room, showered and changed into civilian clothes. Mike was waiting for her in the hallway. He had also changed. He took her arm again.

"You can pick up your car later Pat. We're taking my truck right now."

"Where we going?" Pat mumbled as the adrenaline drain began to catch up with her.

"Home. I need a drink and you do too." 

Pat took a deep breath as she collapsed on Mike's couch. She was still shaking from her close call and was thankful her friend had insisted she come home with him. She was vaguely glad it was just the two of them since the girls were spending their school break at their grandparents' farm. She reached up and took the drink Mike handed her. Tossing it down in one fluid movement she choked, then relaxed as the whiskey burned through her.

"Feeling better?" Mike asked her, his voice soothing.

"Yes, much," she answered. She set the glass on the side table and took his hand in hers. "Thanks."

"Good. Then I can ask one question, okay?" Mike said.

"Of course, Mike," she replied.

"What in the HELL did you think you were doing?" Mike erupted. "You went in there without calling for backup, without describing the situation to dispatch, without planning at all. GOOD GOD woman! Don't you realize you could have been killed? Don't you realize what that would have done to the girls? Don't you realize what that would have done to ME?"

Pat stared in amazement at her partner. She couldn't understand why he was so angry with her. Then she looked again. Mike was not trembling with anger. He was trembling with ... with what? Fear? Anxiety? And then she realized what was going on. Her heart filled and she again took his hand and knelt beside him as he sat on the couch.

"Mike," she whispered. "Look at me." He raised his head and looked into her eyes. She touched his face with her free hand and smiled. "I love you too Mike."

His response was to pull her up into his arms and kiss her. Then he held her and rocked on the couch. They kissed again. This time the kiss deepened. Her mouth opened to his questing tongue. She moaned. It had been a very long time since she had been kissed, especially by someone who loved her. She returned his kiss fiercely, exploring his mouth too. Then the fire ignited in both of them.

Pat's pulse was pounding in her temples. She used her strong legs to push Mike down on the couch and all but threw her petite body on top of him. She kissed him again and again. Recklessly she pulled her jacket off and threw it away. She had not worn a bra and her hard nipples bored through her thin t-shirt and into his chest. 

Mike pulled her close to him, his strong arms tightly around her. One hand dropped to her tight jeans and clamped on her firm round ass. She responded by slipping one small hand between them and sliding it down between them and then between his legs. She felt his erection trying to burst through his jeans. Her fingers fumbled at his zipper, trying to free him. He pulled her shirt over her head and fastened his mouth to one of her breasts.. She ripped opened his belt and finally managed to free his cock. Her head came back as she felt Mike's warm mouth engulf her breast, sucking it deeply in as his tongue caressed her nipple.




To Serve & Protect: Pat and Mike



Pat managed to unbutton and tug Mike's shirt off. His hands were at her waist, unzipping her jeans and pushing them down over her hips. She felt her panties follow and wiggled to help them along. Mike's cock pressed against the inside of her thigh and she froze for a moment. She hadn't been with a man in over four years now. Celibate for a year and a half and previous to that exclusively with her now ex-girlfriend. She had always been bi, rather than gay, but was she ready for this again?

As brief as her hesitation was, Mike picked right up on it and stopped, releasing her breast and moving his hands to a less intimate location. He took a deep breath. ""What is it, Pat?" He somehow managed to sound concerned rather than wildly frustrated, although he seemed to be just that.

"Mike," Pat stammered. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw us off. It's just," she hesitated. "It's just I haven't been with, well, you know, a guy, in a long time." She looked in his eyes. "I really want you, Mike. I just got scared there for a minute."

Mike took a deep breath and looked back. He smiled. "That's okay, Pat. I can wait for you, until whenever you feel comfortable. I just, well, I was afraid, you know, I was doing something wrong." Unbelievably he blushed. "I'm not that experienced, at least with different women."

"Michael Thomas Gibson," Pat demanded in mock anger. "Just how many different women have you been with?"

She was astounded when he looked back at her and answered, "Three. That is, if you count you, Honey." 

Pat's head swam a little. She opened her mouth and began, "Mike, I have to tell you I..." She stopped as he firmly pushed her mouth shut.

"Not important, honey. Whatever and whomever was then, this is now. Okay?"

"Okay." She smiled. "Mike, I'm not using birth control pills." Her hand brushed against him again. "However, I can think of something else." As she leaned forward and kissed him again, her fingers opened his jeans and took his still erect cock out. She slipped to her knees and bent her head. A thought passed through her mind. Her last experience with oral sex like this had been with Joyce's strapon. She dismissed it instantly. No playing, no pretending. This was Mike and she wanted to do this.

Pat ran her tongue up and down the length of Mike's swollen cock. Returning to the head she teased the tip of it, using the very tip of her tongue to caress the slit. Pat licked up the small amount of precum already showing. The groan from Mike told her she was doing just fine. With a mischievous grin she nibbled the head.

"Pat!" came a strangled cry. 

She giggled. "I'll behave." She lowered her head again and took his cock in her lips. Slowly she began to dip her head, letting more and more of Mike fill her warm, wet mouth. As she did she began to gently suck. She slide up and down his cock. Each time she took a bit more of him into her mouth. Mike was not huge, just a nice regular cock. Finally her lips reached his groin and she began to act in earnest. Her lips slide almost all the way up until the head was barely in her mouth. The she went all the way down on him, taking his whole member in her mouth. The suction increased as did the speed. She felt Mike tremble.

"Pat! Oh my gawd. Honey, I'm cumming. Now!"

Pat felt his cum flood the back of her mouth. Instinctively she swallowed. "Not bad at all," she thought with a smile.

Mike pulled her up into his lap and kissed her again. She put her arms around him and relaxed. 

"Mike?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Take me to bed, please. Just hold me and let me fall asleep in your arms. Can we do that?"

"Anything you want Pat." He scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

The next three months were wonderful, but at the same time frustrating. They couldn't be open about their feelings and relationship at work. Like almost all law-enforcement agencies, the Department did not allow involved couples to be partners. Pat and Mike knew they would be eventually split up, if nothing else by the fact that Pat had taken the examination for Detective and was awaiting the results. But they would deal with that when it happened.

The girls were both aware that their dad and Pat had moved to a higher level in the relationship. The couple did not try to hide their affection from the girls, but at the same time they did not sleep in the same bedroom when the girls were home. Pat kept her apartment, both as a symbol of independence and as a very nice place to get some time to themselves.

The day finally came. The results of the Detective Examination were to be posted and Pat had received an official envelope she knew contained her test results. She waited before roll call for Mike, who entered the empty office she was in with an envelope in his hands too.

"What's this?" Pat indicated Mike's package.

"Something I'm already aware of," he replied with a grin. "Sometimes it's good to have a friend in the Commissioner's Office. It lets me get prepared for things."

"What things?" demanded Pat.

"I'll tell you in a minute," answered Mike. "One, two, three. Open your envelope."

They both opened their envelopes and scanned the contents.

"Mike," Pat lowered her orders and looked at him. "I've been promoted to Detective. I will be assigned to the squad here at Central."

"Congratulations, honey, " Mike looked around and quickly kissed her.

"But this means we won't be able to see each other, " Pat protested. "Didn't he understand?" she wondered.

"Well, since I've been promoted to Lieutenant and reassigned back to SWAT we wouldn't have that opportunity anyway," said Mike. He hesitated, "Besides, there's a better way to handle this now."

"A better way?" Pat demanded. "What are you talking about? And you seem to be taking this pretty well."

"I told you I had advance warning. As for taking it well, that remains to be seen," Mike replied. Then Pat was completely staggered as Mike produced a small box from his jacket pocket and knelt. "Pat, will you marry me?"

For one whole second Pat hesitated. Thoughts poured through her mind. She had no doubt that with Mike this was an all or nothing deal. Forever was not just a word with him. Could she commit herself to such a relationship when even two years ago she would have thought the very idea of spending her life with a man would have seemed ridiculous? Was she ready to change from being a big sister to Carol and Stephanie to being a mother? Did she really love Mike that much and did he love her?

All this went by in a second. "Yes," Pat said softly.

For four weeks the couple scrambled to set up the wedding. Pat had genuinely thought a wedding was never going to be in her future and had not planned for one. Mike had of course, in true male fashion, only been expected to show up for his first wedding and was of little help in thinking of things that should be done. All the hysterical running in circles was finally solved in 10 minutes when the exasperated couple were practically dragged into his office by the Department Chaplain, Father Cunningham. He pointed out the Department was still receiving an occasional report of a couple in a marked unit necking like teenagers. They were to get the blasted license, decide on their witnesses and attendants and meet back in his office in one week for him to perform the ceremony.

"Oh, and Mike?" the priest added. "Linda Shannon tells me you owe her 20 dollars. Don't forget she's at Internal Affairs now."

"And who is that?" Pat asked so sweetly Mike almost broke into a sweat.

"She's an old friend I lost a bet to," he answered. "And won one from."

At the end the ceremony was simple. Half a dozen close friends and Mike's parents attended. Pat had two bridesmaids, her step-daughters to be. The girls wore simple dresses and Mike and Pat both wore their best uniforms. They were cops and had decided to be married as such. Father Cunningham had them hold hands and recite their own vows to each other. The ceremony was quickly brought to a close with the Chaplain's blessing and the newlyweds kissed each other.

Their get away wasn't quite as smooth as they had hoped. They found a gauntlet of fellow officers lined up and they had to run wildly to Mike's truck through a blizzard of rice and well-wishes. Someone had opened Mike's truck and filled it with balloons and they got even more rice as they cleared enough space to jump in and make their escape.

They had let it slip they were going on a cruise out of Florida. In reality they only drove less than 100 miles south to a small, quiet resort on a coastal barrier island. They were actually only going to stay the weekend. After that they were doubling back to pick up the girls and head to Florida for real, to Disney World. Pat had come up with the idea.

"Mike, we're going to have our whole lives together. Can we start becoming a family too?"

His response had been to hold her so tight and close she finally had to elbow him to get loose before she suffocated.

Arms around each other they checked into their ocean view room. Mike fetched ice and made them a couple drinks while Pat opened her suitcase and began looking through it. 

"Damn, damn, damn," Pat muttered as she scattered clothing from her suitcase.

"What?" asked Mike, as he set her drink on the night table and raised an eyebrow..

Pat blushed. "Mike, I had bought... well... a special outfit to wear for you tonight.. Now I can't find it. I must have left it at home."

Mike walked up behind her and put his arms around her. "No you didn't," he said softly. "Every outfit you brought is special." 

He dropped his head to her shoulder. He kissed the skin where her t-shirt had slipped down. Very gently his lips began to dance up her shoulder to the beginning of her neck. Pat gasped as he nibbled her neck and then gasped again as his hands covered her breasts. He squeezed them carefully and then began to stroke her nipples through the cotton. He pressed against Pat and she felt his already hard cock against the curves of her ass.

Mike's lips moved slowly up the side of Pat's neck till they reached her ear. He tugged on the earlobe and then began to swirl his tongue over the shell. At the same time his fingers trapped her nipples and scraped the material back and forth over them, increasing their sensitivity. Pat responded by pushing her ass back and rubbing her pantied cleft against the still growing bulge in his boxers. Mike's tongue entered the porches of her ear and Pat stiffened with a low moan.

She raised her arms over her head. Mike took the hint and pulled her t-shirt up over her head. Pat turned and locked her arms around her husband's neck she pulled him down till their lips met. After only a brief taste their mouths opened to each other and their tongues glided over each other. Pat felt herself began to shake, even as Mike ground himself against her mound.

Mike slipped his hands down to her bottom and lifted her completely up in the air. Still kissing he carried her to the bed. They tumbled onto it, scattering clothes and luggage to the winds. Mike rolled onto his back, pulling Pat on top of him. He kissed the hollow of her throat as he pulled on her panties. Pat tugged at his boxers and he lifted up as they managed to get the final each items of clothing out of their way. 

Pat straddled Mike, kneeling over him. She set her wet slit over the length of his shaft and began to rock back and forth. The friction of his cock sliding along but not penetrating her pussy caused her gasp. She ground herself against the mushroom head of his cock as her sliding brought it against the top of her slit and her clit. Mike's palms covered her breasts and his thumbs began to strum her nipples until they felt as hard as his cock.

Pat groaned deeply. In one fluid motion she raised her hips till she felt the tip of mike's cock enter her. Without hesitation she slammed down, riding him all the way up inside her. "Oh God, Mike, Mike, MIKE," she chanted over and over as her husband's powerful hips drove him to meet her each time she bounced. He pinched both nipples and held them, letting her stretch them as she heaved up and down. Her hands rested behind her on her calves as she knelt over him. Suddenly her head tipped all the way back and she screamed wordlessly as a powerful orgasm flooded over her.

Pat collapsed forward onto Mike, her breasts crushed against his bare chest. Their lips sought each others again and then she rested her head on his shoulder. She sat back up after a few moments of catching her breath. She looked at Mike in surprise.

"Mike, you're still hard!"

He laughed deeply. "Are you complaining honey?"

"Good Lord, NO!"

Mike rolled form under her and stood on the floor at the edge of the bed. Laughing again he caught her ankles and turned her onto her back and pulled her towards him. Returning his laughter Pat pretended to resist. She caught the bed pillows and as Mike lifted her almost effortlessly by her ankles she pushed them under her hips. Now raised to a level matching him, he held her ankles against his shoulders and pushed forward. Still wet and open she felt him slide right back inside her at a completely different angle.

Mike pumped back and forth. Holding Pat's legs right up against his torso his cock filled Pat completely. With her hands tangled in the bed sheet she closed her eyes in helpless delight as he thrust in and out of her. His rising moans gave clue to his approaching orgasm. Pat brought her legs down from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist. The petite woman's shapely muscular legs pulled Mike forward. He leaned till he fell towards the bed, catching himself on his outstretched arms. With that he began to buck almost violently into Pat.

"Yes, yes, yes. Mike, please, please darling," Pat all but begged.

"Oh... My... God... ," Mike responded, his voice rising in pitch and volume. Then in one final heave Mike crushed himself to Pat. She felt his cock swell and a blast of cum jetted into her. That sensation swept away her final grasp of control and she came as they both called each other's names again and again.

They both awoke hours later, still tangled in each other. Pat kissed Mike and held him.

"That was fantastic, honey," she smiled at him.

"It was indeed," Mike looked down at his lovely new wife, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Ready for maybe a shower, supper and another go around?"

That night, showered, fed and having made love again, Pat gave a deep purr of contentment and snuggled deep into the loving arms of her new husband. As she feel asleep, she had a passing thought. She wondered if she could send a "Thank You" card to that red headed hussy Jo?

(Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks to my "bestest" friend Marain for her proofreading and editing efforts as always. Also as always, please let me know if you liked it and why.Or hated it and why. Linda and I will keep writing, please keep reading.) 



To Serve & Protect: Temptation



(Many thanks to all of you who have read, enjoyed and commented on this series. My compatriot in crime, Linda, and I, have enjoyed writing them. This story jumps time again, this time almost 20 years into the future from the others. It's not necessary to read the other stories to enjoy this one, I hope. But it might make sense faster if you do.)

Pat Gibson tipped the man who had brought her bags up to her hotel room and closed the door behind him. She looked around for a moment then closed her eyes and let herself fall backwards onto the king-size bed. Following a muffled "Oof" at landing; she relaxed, twisted her body and yawned. After 5 minutes she reluctantly opened her eyes and got off the bed. Too much to do to take a nap right now.

She picked up the phone on the nightstand, checked the instructions and punched in a series of numbers. As she waited, she levered her feet out of her black running shoes.

"Jackson County Sheriff's Department, Uniform Division, Sergeant Wilson speaking," a clear contralto voice answered the phone.

Pat grinned. "Inspector Gibson, please."

"Whom shall I say is calling?" inquired the voice on the other end. Pat could hear the woman trying valiantly to smother a laugh.

"This is Deputy Inspector Gibson, and stop wasting my time, Sergeant. I swear, every little whippersnapper seems drunk with power just because she answers the phone for..."

"Oh for goodness sake, Mom," Sergeant Carol Gibson Wilson interrupted the tirade. "Quit practicing how you deliver the 'Welcome' speech you give the new cadets. I heard it from Aunt Linda when I went through the Academy." 

Pat laughed along with her daughter. "How are you feeling today honey?" Carol had taken a nasty tumble two weeks previously while involved in the foot pursuit of a robbery suspect. She had badly twisted her knee, an injury that fortunately had been saved from being aggravated by her landing on top of the subject.

"I'm fine Mom. I get to work regular hours, 8 to 5, just like a normal person. Daddy's office is warm and comfortable and I sit down and relax the whole time, just answering the phone and keeping his schedule."

"In other words baby, you hate it."

"Momma, I am so incredibly bored I can't stand it! I want to be back out on the street with my husband Roger and that twit of a younger brother you named after Dad. They're having all the fun and I'm missing it. Police work is on the streets for goodness sake, not in the office."

"You'll be back out there shortly." Pat paused. "Enjoy it darling. We did." She sighed. "Now its up to you and your husband and your brother. Much as we miss it, your Father and I are a little too stiff in the joints for street work. Oh well, let me speak to your Father."

Pat heard her oldest child call "DAD! Mom's on the phone."

"Hey honey," Pat's husband of over 20 years greeted her. "How was the trip?"

"For an only five hour drive it was tiring. I just thought I'd let you know I'm here. I'm in room 613 and as soon as I get dressed I'm going to wander down and get signed in."

"Okay honey, see you when you get back. I love you."

"I love you too, Mike."

Pat pulled out a clean uniform and dressed in the dark blue slacks and open collared white shirt that marked her as a senior police official. She debated momentarily putting her sidearm on. She was in a hotel full of cops, after all. A certain movie to the contrary, she didn't think diamond thieves were going to be raiding the conference. 

She carefully checked her reflection in the mirror. The gold leaves on her collar balanced the gold badge and nameplate. Satisfied that everything shone she picked up her briefcase, stuffed her room card in her back pocket and headed downstairs.

The registration desk was easy to spot over by one of the conference rooms on the ground floor of the sprawling hotel. Not only was it festooned with signs but there was a milling crowd of men and women-enforcement uniforms. 

Pat joined the line. Looking around, she didn't immediately see any familiar faces. There would probably be several people she knew though. The state was large but the ranks of the upper level cops were pretty much not unfamiliar with each other. 

Just then Pat heard a voice behind her. "Pat? Pat Morrison?" She turned.

"Jim Davis! How are you?" Memories came flooding back to Pat of when she was a rookie patrol officer in that other city so many years ago. Jim had been just as new as her. They had graduated from the Academy together. Jim had asked her out several times, before realizing that, as she had tried to delicately put it "Men were not her cup of tea".

He looked pretty good. A little heavy set around the middle that bespoke of too much desk work and not enough exercise. He wore silver oak leaves on his collar points and his badge was gold. Engraved on it was "Assistant Chief".

"Congratulations, Jim."

"Thanks Pat," Jim replied with more than a hint of smugness in his voice. He always had been full of himself, Pat recalled. Although not really a bad guy, he had been convinced he was god's gift to women. He had hit on her several times, even when it was open knowledge that she had been living with another woman in a state much more than that of roommates.

"So what are you doing here?" Jim's face clouded a bit, as he realized that Pat's presence at this training seminar indicated she probably was fairly important in whatever department she was with.

"I'm a Deputy Inspector, Jackson County Sheriff's Department. I'm head of our Academy and therefore in charge of training too, which is why I'm here. And its 'Gibson', not 'Morrison'."

His eyes dropped to her nameplate. The expression on his face was priceless, a mixture of chagrin at not picking up on the obvious, coupled with sheer amazement. "You're married? I thought you were gay!" He burst out loudly, causing other nearby heads to turn their way.

Pat couldn't resist. "Oh I was. Just had to find the right man you know." She loved the shocked expression on his face. While indeed she had found the right man, she had never been gay. Rather she had been bisexual with a distinct leaning towards other females, at least at the time she had been working with him.

One of the people who's heads had turned headed their way. He was a tall, strongly built black man in his late forties or early fifties. He had a uncertain smile on his face. When he reached Pat he stopped and asked, "I beg your pardon, but 'Gibson'? Are you by chance Mike Gibson's wife?"

"Yes I am," Pat replied.

The man's face lit up with a broad smile. "Hi there, I'm Jack Washington. Many years ago, Mike and I went through SWAT Commander training together and two years ago we were both at the National Academy Course at Quantico. Even without the pictures he showed of you and your family, I would have been able to recognize you just from how much he talked about you."

"Well! I sure am glad to finally meet you Jack. Mike has talked about you for years too." Pat took a minute and introduced Jim. "This is Jim Davis. He and I were rookie cops a lifetime ago."

"Listen, a group of us are getting together in the bar for dinner and a few beers. Why don't you both join us when you get signed in?"

"Sounds great."

Registration took only a few minutes. Pat headed out to the bar with Jim following behind. 

"Speaking of behind and behinds," Pat thought, "Jim is watching mine rather closely. I hope that's not trouble brewing there." She dismissed the thought. She had certainly handled bigger problems than him before.

The beer flowed freely and the laughs rose as the group of senior officers traded stories about themselves and their departments. Pat had a particularly great time talking with Jack. When she shared her story about getting knocked on her ass once by a perp because Mike had confused the street numbers during a call, Jack laughed the loudest. When she told them how he had to make it up to her, she thought he was going to cry from the laughter.

"I didn't know that one, Pat," he finally managed to gasp. "He talks about you so much, but that one he never brought up. I can see why."

Pat took advantage of a break in the conversation to lean over to Jim. "Jim, as an old friend I need to mention one small thing to you." At his wide grin, Pat continued sweetly, "If you put your hand on my thigh one more time I'm going to break it off and shove it up your ass."

Joyce Smithers sat in her chair in the lounge and listened to the woman across the tiny table babble on about what a wonderful time she had shopping. She nodded her head, making an occasional murmured "Really" and "How nice" whenever the other woman paused for breath. That didn't seem to be too often.

What had happened to her life, the mature, attractive blonde woman wondered. It had been years since she had had an actual relationship with another woman. She had partied and been the popular girl for so many years. Then one day she had woken and discovered that time had caught up to her after all. 

Now, she thought bitterly, she dated younger and more empty-headed women. Like Theresa there. Shopping and parties seemed to be all she cared about. Just like she had been once herself, she knew. She had thrown away the one woman who had really loved her, the one woman who had cared for her as a person. She had been so sure of her hold over Pat, so sure that even though Joyce had hurt her deeply, that she would come running back to her. It hadn't happened. The very qualities in Pat that had driven Joyce crazy back then; her independence, her self-reliance, her ability to think for herself; the things that Joyce desperately wanted in a woman now, those things had kept Pat from coming back.

She wrenched her attention back to Theresa.

"Can we go up to our room now. please? I want to show you those shoes."

Inwardly she groaned, then forced a smile on her face. "Of course we can, sweetie." She signed the bill on the edge of the table and stood. She held her hand out to Theresa and moved towards the door, bypassing the loud table of uniformed cops. The cops started to stand up, apparently breaking up their get-together. As she rounded the table, a petite female officer turned and suddenly Joyce was face to face with her ex.

The two women stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Joyce looked her old lover over, barely aware that Pat was doing the same. 

"Pat."

"Joyce." 

For long moments they simply studied each other. Pat thought Joyce looked very attractive. Her blonde hair was as carefully styled as ever, without a hint of gray. She looked simply elegant; still tall, still immaculately dressed.

"You look good Joyce."

"So do you Pat," replied Joyce in a thoughtful tone. Her ex did look good. There were some gray strands in the dirty blonde hair. Pat's hips seemed a bit wider, her body more rounded and fuller. It was almost as if she had... Joyce's mind shied away from a thought. She considered Pat more closely. With a start, Joyce realized the most attractive thing about Pat was the look of content and happiness she wore. It seemed like a permanent fixture.

Joyce became aware of Theresa's insistent tug on her arm. "Please, Joyce. I want to go to the room." The tone of voice was almost a whine. Joyce caught a glimpse of amusement in Pat's eyes but then saw it replaced by a look of sympathy that somehow was even more irritating. How dare Pat feel sorry for her.

She whirled, took Theresa's hand and marched off. She determinedly did not look back. If she had, she would have seen that Pat was considering Theresa, and her expression had become more thoughtful. However when they reached the elevator bank she snuck a quick look over her shoulder. Pat was nowhere in sight.

Pat had checked he watch and realized she had an early morning ahead of her. She headed up to the room, thinking about Joyce and the woman she had seen with her. Pat had first decided the other girl was an airhead, but after having watched the way Theresa had clutched Joyce's arm she wasn't sure of that any more. There was a real attraction there.

When they reached their room, Joyce showed proper appreciation for how much money Theresa had spent for shoes that matched half a dozen pairs already in the closet at home. Of course, she herself probably had that many similar ones, if not more. She still really enjoyed shopping. She just wanted Theresa to appreciate more.

"Honey?" the object of her musings spoke brightly. "How about we hit that scrumptious new club across the street? I hear the band is really yummy."

Joyce smiled at Theresa. She knew the smile was strained and hoped that the younger woman didn't pick up on the patently false aspect of it. "You go ahead, baby. I have the beginnings of a headache and think I'll just lay down for a bit."

"Okay," Theresa accepted Joyce's statement. For a moment, a look crossed the younger woman's face that Joyce couldn't identify. She moved slowly to the door and turned. "Are you sure?" Joyce nodded, almost hesitantly. Theresa lingered a bit longer and then was gone. Well, that was surprising. Joyce had always assumed that given a choice, Theresa would immediately opt for the party, for the club, for the dance floor. She hadn't thought staying at home at night was on her list of "fun things to do". Maybe she was underestimating again.

Joyce leaned back in the reclining chair provided in her suite and let her mind drift back to past. She closed her eyes and remembered her first meeting with Pat, so many years ago...

"I can't believe it!" Joyce fumed to herself. "I'm gone for a couple of hours and someone broke in. What the hell is going on, its like nothing's safe anymore, like," She suddenly broke off her silent tirade because she smelled a whiff of cigarette smoke. With a gasp, she realized that she had walked right through the door and whomever had broken in might still be there.

She rushed across the street to where the elderly Mrs. Roberts lived. The widow of a World War II Navy Officer was old but by no means senile. She listened to Joyce's spilled words. The older woman all but pulled Joyce inside her house, slammed and locked the door, and then called the police.

"Now then," she told Joyce. "You sit there and try to calm down a bit, dearie. I'll make us some tea."

The water wasn't even boiling when a black and white patrol car roared down the street, its lights flashing. A small officer leaped from the front seat, drew a revolver and checked the front door. Another car pulled up to the side of the house and the cop in it ran around back. The first officer entered the front door.

A few short minutes later the two uniformed figures emerged from the house. The second, taller cop got into his car and drove away. The smaller one used his radio and then started across the street. Mrs. Roberts opened the door and invited the him in as he came up the steps.

"Thank you Ma'am," came a contralto voice. Joyce realized the officer wasn't a him at all. She entered, doffed her Stetson style hat and ran her fingers through her short, dirty blonde hair. "I need to speak to Ms. Smithers, please. I understand she reported the break-in from here."

"I'm Joyce Smithers."

"I'm Officer Morrison, Ms. Smithers. I need some information for my report, please."

The female officer unfolded her metal clipboard and took out an incident report form. Step by step, she filled it out, asking Joyce the necessary questions in a calm, soothing voice. Midway through the writing, Mrs. Roberts managed to get them both seated on the couch and served them tea.

After completing the form and reassuring Joyce that she would arrange for the beat car to check frequently during the next few days, Officer Morrison had seemed a bit reluctant to leave. Their elderly host, enjoying the unexpected company, had prolonged the stay by regaling them with tales of the adventures her late husband had in the South Pacific during World War II, where unfortunately he had been killed.

The older woman proudly showed them pictures and letters sent home from ports and bases around the Pacific. She gestured to a larger picture mounted in a silver frame. "Wasn't he handsome?" Both younger women agreed. "I always thought he looked just like Henry Fonda."

During the recitation Joyce had seen the police woman looking at her out of the corner of her eye a couple times. Once, when they both stretched a bit during one of the pauses in the older woman's flow of chatter, their fingers brushed against each others. Joyce felt a tingle, but couldn't tell for sure how the other woman had reacted.

Finally the police officer rose from her seat, saying she needed to get back on patrol. She thanked their host warmly, for the tea, for the stories and for her quick actions in getting Joyce safely inside and calling the police. She then turned to Joyce.

"Here's my card, Ms. Smithers. My office number is on the front. I've written the case number on the back of the card. You'll need it when you pick up a copy of the report for your insurance company." The woman donned her hat again and smiled at Mrs. Roberts. "Thank you for the tea Ma'am." She turned to leave and whispered to Joyce, "Henry Fonda? I thought he looked like Roger Smith."

Joyce went back to her house and began to clean up. All afternoon the image of a woman in uniform kept popping into her mind. 

That evening the doorbell rang. When Joyce answered the door she found the woman officer from that morning standing at the door. Joyce knew this wasn't an accident. In the back of her mind she had somehow come to expect it.

"I just stopped by to see if you were alright," the woman cop began hesitantly. She was out of uniform now. She wore an open leather jacket and jeans. Under the jacket she had on a light blue t-shirt. In spite of all that, she did not seem at all butch. Maybe it was her eyes. They were deep and warm. Blue, Joyce thought, only to decide a moment later they were green. 

"Please come in Officer..." Joyce began. She blushed as she realized she had not remembered the other woman's name.

"Morrison, Pat Morrison, Ms. Smithers," the woman cop replied.

"Joyce."

Pat followed Joyce into the house. Both walked slowly, their eyes on each other, moving as though they were in some dream. Neither spoke again until the door was closed and they were standing in the living room.

The policewoman spoke first. "I, I don't know what I'm doing here." 

"Yes, you do," Joyce replied softly. 

With that simple statement Joyce leaned over and kissed Pat. At first it was no more than a light caress of lips. The two women's hands tentatively brushed over each other. The hesitant kiss broke for an instant and the two women looked into each other's eyes. Joyce saw confusion and passion and more in Pat's eyes. There was a longing there, and somehow she knew it was matched in her own eyes.

Slowly they came into each other's arms. Their lips clung, then Joyce tugged Pat's bottom lip. The release of it was immediately followed by her tongue gliding into Pat's open mouth. The kiss deepened. Pat's arms tightened around Joyce and pulled her right against her firm body.

Joyce's embrace matched Pat's. Their hands roamed and touch and fondled. The two gay women kissed wildly until suddenly Joyce's hand touched something hard under Pat's jacket, and even in the moment she couldn't resist whispering in the other woman's ear. 

"Baby, you won't need the gun. Or the handcuffs either, although we might have fun with them."

Pat tore off her jacket. She peeled her shoulder holster off and carefully place it on a nearby chair. Automatically, she covered it with her jacket. She turned back around and blinked. Joyce was gone.

She smiled. At the archway to the hall was a shoe. When she reached it, she saw another shoe a bit farther on. The trail down the hallway was littered with Joyce's clothing. Pat passed through an open door, into what was obviously Joyce's bedroom. The tall slender blonde was stretched out on the bed, wearing only a wisp of black lace panties.




To Serve & Protect: Temptation



"Are you coming to bed fully dressed?" Joyce inquired.

With almost eye defying speed, Pat shed her t-shirt, bra and kicked off her shoes. She wiggled her jeans down her hips. For a moment she stopped, embarrassed at the contrast between her plain white cotton panties and Joyce's sexy lingerie. Then she stepped out of the tight denim and crossed to the bed. She knelt on the edge, her hands gently running up and down the slender curves of this exciting woman.

"Please, Pat, kiss me," breathed Joyce.

Pat slide her hands up Joyce's sides and covered the blonde woman's body with her own. Her lips locked onto Joyce's. Tongues clashed as both women strove to explore each other's mouth while hands roamed freely, discovering the wonderful sensitivity of their bodies. Legs covered and caressed legs, hard nipples jutted into soft breasts and already damp panties rubbed together.

Joyce was athletic, but although smaller, Pat's exercise regime was for strength, and she pinned the taller woman beneath her. Joyce gasped as Pat slowly worked down her body. Her hands captured by her side, she surrendered to the sensations. Pat's lips seemed to cover every inch of her, from her jaw line, down her neck and to her breasts. The gentle tug of lips gave way to the scrape of teeth on her achingly hard nipples.

Joyce's legs parted as Pat's oral trek down her body resumed. Kissing and licking, the other woman left a trail down her stomach and over her mound. Pat paused, catching the hem of Joyce's drenched panties in her teeth. With a sudden jerk of her head, the policewoman tore the flimsy material and buried her face in the now exposed blonde bush.

"Oh my God," moaned Joyce. Her hands dropped to the head of short cut hair between her legs. Her eyes closed as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Pat's tongue seemed to be everywhere. One moment it was dragging up and down her open slit. The next moment it danced over her swollen clit. With a quick tilt of her head, Pat suddenly drove inside her, rasping along her slick inside walls. Hands snaked back up her body to catch and hold her breasts.

Pat's lips closed on her clit and tightened. As the first shock ran through Joyce's body, fingers closed on her erect nipples and pinched them> With an unrestrained scream Joyce tried to slam Pat's face all the way inside her as a tremendous orgasm took her.

When the spasms stopped, Joyce pulled Pat up to her. She kissed her, tasting herself on the other woman's lips. She sighed, then glee bubbled to the surface. She pulled back a bit and said "Now your turn, darling. Get on your hands and knees." When Pat responded with alacrity, Joyce knelt behind her new lover.

Pat had a lovely body. More boyish than her own, it was taunt and muscular but still fully a woman's body. Joyce kissed the small of Pat's back, then ran her tongue between the firm globes of her ass. Pat shook and moaned when Joyce's tongue brushed her rosebud

"Yes," Joyce smiled wickedly. "You like that, don't you baby? Well, hold on." She crouched further behind Pat's upraised bottom. One slender finger slid between the smaller woman's legs, parting the puffy lips of her pussy. Joined by a second finger, they slipped back and forth, working along the open pink slit and forward to fleetingly touch Pat's throbbing clit.

Faster and faster worked Joyce's fingers. Her tongue licked along the perineum, rasping the sensitive skin. At the top of each stroke, she paused to wet the tight puckered hole there. Carefully she maintained her pace, feeling Pat's body tense and her moans of passion grow louder and louder.

Joyce realized her new lover was reaching the point of no return. As she felt the first shudder run through Pat's body, Joyce suddenly shifted her entire body. Rolling onto her back she squirmed under Pat. Her free hand reached up to Pat's back, pushing the dripping vagina down to her own eager waiting tongue and open mouth. As her tongue curled deeply in Pat's pooled nectar, Joyce's other hand slid up the cleft of Pat's bottom and, in one swift movement, she drove her two soaking fingers all the way into Pat's ass.

Pat screamed. She flooded Joyce's face with a rush of her juices. The sensation of being penetrated deep in her ass contrasted completely with the softness of Joyce's mouth on her cunt. She came violently, losing control of he arms and legs in the onset of her orgasm. She all but smothered Joyce when she helplessly fell on top of her.

When sanity and strength returned, the two of them were curled together in a mass. Amid the smiles and soft touches came an unspoken commitment to each other.

Joyce returned to the present. She blushed as she realized that during her daydream her hand had crept between her legs. She stood and walked to the mirror. Well, she had screwed that up so long ago. Not only had she taken a side lover but when caught she had affected to be indifferent. Partly she had been, sure of her own attractiveness, but what Pat had never seen was the facade she had hid behind to cover her guilt.

Joyce shook her head. That was the past. She decided to go join Theresa. As she clicked off the lights and closed the doors, she had another thought. She wondered if Pat was completely over her. She knew she had never gotten over Pat.

Over the next two days, Joyce saw groups of cops moving all around the hotel. Once only did she catch a glimpse of Pat, talking animatedly to a large black male officer as the two of them entered one of the conference rooms. On the spur of the moment, she decided to see if she could find Pat's room number.

Joyce approached the desk, having waited until the older clerk had been replaced by a young guy just out of his teens. She had previously adjusted her blouse, opening the top two buttons. She gave the young man a winning smile.

"Excuse me. I need to get the room number for Miss Morrison. She's one of the police officers attending the seminar here. I had it and I'm afraid I misplaced it."

"Ah, ma'am, I'm afraid I'm not able to give out room numbers without the permission of the guest." The young clerk's voice trailed away and his eyes bulged as Joyce leaned on the counter. His eyes were glued to the display of her breasts straining against her half-opened blouse.

"Please? She's an old friend and I want to surprise her." Joyce leaned a little farther and the young man almost fainted. He gulped, turned one eye to the computer and frantically typed.

"I'm sorry," the clerk said. "There's no one listed by the name of 'Morrison'."

"Oh, thank you very much." Joyce frowned as she turned away. She silently berated herself. Why hadn't she thought to look at Pat's nametag the other day? The answer to that was, of course, simple. Pat had been 'Morrison' and therefore she would always be 'Morrison'. "God," Joyce said aloud, as she was struck by a sudden thought. Had there been rings on Pat's left hand?

The next morning Pat came through the hotel front door following her morning run. She was absorbed in checking her pulse and didn't see or hear Joyce approach until the other woman spoke.

"Still three miles?"

"Just two for a long time now, I'm afraid," Pat answered ruefully. 

"I do have to say that you look a little broader in the hips and the stomach then you used to." Joyce commented, wondering what response she would get.

"Well, having children causes that," Pat replied, looking as though Joyce's catty comment was of complete indifference to her. "I never did work off the results of the twins."

"Twins?" Joyce realized how silly that sounded and tried again. "So you're sleeping with men now?" She groaned to herself. Good God, she was coming across as an idiot.

Pat laughed merrily, "Just one I must confess. My husband Mike. That's why you couldn't find me when you asked at the desk. My last name is 'Gibson' now. It has been since, oh, about two years after we broke up."

Joyce flushed. "How did you find out I asked about you?"

"Don't worry, the young man was so dazzled by your charms he would have never said a word. But the assistant manager was in her cubbyhole around the corner and heard. When she realized that someone was looking for one of the law-enforcement guests, she notified the conference staff. They ran a computer check, my maiden name popped up me, and they contacted me. When I checked with the clerk, he described completely the woman who had made such an impression on him." Pat giggled, and Joyce was once again struck by how relaxed the once always-determined and driven woman was. "After all Joyce, you were asking about a guest and didn't know her last name. For all she knew," for a moment Pat's eyes seemed far away and her mouth tightened, before her smile returned, "You could have been a stalker."

"I'm sorry," Joyce apologized, realizing it seemed lame.

"Its okay," Pat assured her. "Rather flattering in a way, to know you were asking." Pat hesitated. "Joyce, how about lunch today? I have a long break between seminars and we could catch up when I don't desperately need a shower."

"Sure," replied Joyce, already thinking of where to send Theresa shopping.

Lunch was pleasant, but at the same time a strange undercurrent ran through the conversation. Pat concentrated on talking about all that had happened over the intervening years. She proudly showed the collection of pictures of her children that made her pocketbook fairly bulge. She told about Mike, how they came to be together and the years they had shared together.

Joyce, on the other hand, kept turning the conversation back to the days when they were together. Pat would question and prod and get Joyce talking about her travels and what she had been doing over the years, but Joyce would always steer the conversation back to the "good old days."

"Pat?" Joyce asked after they had declined dessert and asked for their bills. "I want to ask you something that's been on my mind since I saw you here the other day."

"Well," Pat tried to smile, but felt herself come on guard. "You can always ask. I don't absolutely promise to answer."

Joyce reached across the table and took Pat's hands in hers. "Have you ever wondered what would have happened if I had not been so caught up in myself back then? I mean, if we had stayed together. Do you think we would have made it as a couple?"

Pat flinched almost imperceptibly at the touch of Joyce's hands. The long ago feel of her hands was somehow disquieting, and at the same time almost comfortable. She tried not to pull back but simply accept the touch as nothing important.

"I suppose I have a time or two Joyce. Who doesn't think back on what might have been? But I'll tell you, Might-have-been is a poor substitute for what I have now." Feeling uneasy at the whole situation, Pat slipped her hands free and stood up, snatching her bill as it was laid down. "I have to go," she blurted and headed for the cashier after dropping a tip for the waitress on the table.

Pat didn't look back. If she had, she would have been even more uncomfortable with the smile playing on Joyce's lips.

That night, Pat was dreaming of making love to Mike. She had her arms wrapped around her beloved husband. He was effortlessly holding her up in the air, her toes 8 inches off the ground. One firm hand was on her back, the other clamped firmly on her butt. Her body bumped against his and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She giggled as she felt his hard cock trapped between them. She wiggled her midsection, eliciting a groan and a muffled "I'll get you missy" from him.

She stopped his mock complaints with a kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He kissed her back, their tongues dueling. Her legs tightened and relaxed around him, making her mound slide up and down on his rigid cock. She felt a touch of moisture from him on her belly, trickling down to mingle with her own wetness.

"Mike, Mike, Mike," she gasped. "Take me to bed."

Her husband carried her down the hallway to their bedroom, closing the door behind them with a push of his foot. He walked her backwards to the bed, bending over to release her onto the covers. She feel back, wiggling all the way onto the bed, her legs open and her arms stretched over her head. She closed her eyes, already arching herself to meet him as the edge of the bed sagged to his weight. She felt the head of his cock touch her open pussy and his breath sweet on her face.

Sweet on her face? What the heck? She opened her eyes and all but yelled. The form crushing her into the bed wasn't Mike, it was Joyce. She looked wildly between them. It wasn't her husband's cock sliding deep up inside her but rather Joyce's strapon. 

"Oh My GOD!" Pat sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat poured off her. In spite of having quit over twenty-five years ago, she craved a cigarette. She threw back the covers and walked to the desk top fridge. She dumped part of the contents of the ice tray into a glass and smothered the cubes with Scotch. The smoky taste burned down her throat, making her cough and waking her up. She moved to the sink, added water and walked to the window. She drew the curtains, knowing the darkness of the room prevented anyone from seeing her, and looked over the sleeping city.

"What the hell am I thinking?" she asked herself aloud. Her mind roved back to her breakup with Joyce, then to her one-night stand with Liz and subsequent weekend with Linda. She sat down, sipped her drink, and recalled the conversation when she had finally confessed everything to Mike. She remembered kneeling in front of him, tears in her eyes as she came clean to him about everything. She had been terrified of what might happened but determined to be honest about her mistakes.

Then he had smiled, so gently, and asked her two questions. "Is it ever going to happen again?" Her throat so tight she had not been able to speak, she had violently shook her head. "Okay, then, case closed." At her incredulous look, he had suddenly given her a wicked grin and asked, "So how should we thank Linda for saving your life?"

But that was one time and one time only she reminded herself. And it hadn't been as simple as that. There had been a lot of work put into regaining the stability of their marriage. Of course, covering each other in more than one gun battle was one hell of a way to reestablish trust. For over 20 years now she had been a one-man woman, only Mike's and Mike only hers. Not that she didn't look occasionally at an attractive guy or a girl, but she had actually never even dreamed about anyone besides Mike. Now she had. She buried her head in her hands, then laughed aloud as her drink, forgotten in her hand, spilled all over her. As she moved to the shower she decided she simply would see no more of Joyce. She would erase the images from her mind and that would be the end of that.

The final day of the training seminar arrived. Pat had managed to duck Joyce. The only time she saw her, the other woman was with Theresa. Pat noticed the young companion seemed to be genuinely attracted to Joyce, and felt a great sense of relief. She wondered if Joyce had even realized how strong Theresa's feelings were for her.

At noon, the leading instructor made a final presentation, summing up what they had covered on the latest techniques and methods of training, both of new police officers and of conducting in-service refresher training for veteran officers. At the end, he grinned and said, "See you tonight at 8 for the dinner and the dance. Until then, relax."

Pat made a beeline for her room. She laid out her formal uniform with the long skirt and then ran the tub full. Adding bubble bath and lighting a couple of candles, she sank gratefully into the hot water, determined to think of nothing for as long as she could.

She had been enjoying her bath long enough to start wrinkling, and was concluding it was just about time to be climbing out, when she heard a knock on the room door. 

"Who is it?" she called, hoping it was someone she could tell to get lost.

"Its Joyce."

Pat reluctantly pulled herself out of the tub. She dried off and pulled her short terrycloth robe around her. Tying the cord around her waist, she went to the door and opened it.

"What is it, Joyce?"

She stood fidgeting in the doorway. "May I come in?" 

"Sure," Pat led the way back to the living area. She was curious what Joyce wanted. She didn't think about how she was dressed, not realizing that Joyce's eyes were fixed on the subtle sway of her bottom and the movement of her legs. "Want some coffee?" she threw over her shoulder as she bent to take the papers and manuals off the second chair and dump them on top of the table.

"No thanks." Joyce remained standing. A look Pat couldn't interpret was fixed on her face.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Pat remained on her feet too. She finally broke a silence that seemed to stretch as long as the last 25 years.

"What is it Joyce?"

Joyce opened and closed her mouth several times. She realized she couldn't come up with the words she wanted. Perhaps actions could speak louder. Stepping close to her ex, she took the smaller woman in her arms and kissed her.

Pat was surprised. She felt Joyce's soft lips on hers. Long buried memories surfaced and her lips parted slightly. Their tongues touched. It was all so far-away in time and yet so incredibly familiar again. Pat's arms rose jerkily, uncertain and then her hands rested on Joyce's hips.

Joyce's heart beat wildly. Yes, this was happening. She could feel Pat respond. Her right hand slid between their bodies, seeking the opening of Pat's robe. Her fingers found it and she felt Pat draw a deep breath as her hand slipped under the cloth to Pat's warm smooth skin.

Joyce's fingers gently explored the once so familiar smoothness. The sash of the robe opened a bit more and the kiss deepened. Joyce's hand slid up to just below Pat's breast when her fingertips encountered a ragged scar. Involuntarily she moved slightly back.

As slight as that movement was, it let Pat regain control over herself. She broke the kiss, stepped back and caught Joyce's hands in her own.

"Pat, what are you doing?" Then Joyce's curiosity broke through and she asked, "And what was I felt?"

"Second question simplest. That was a bullet scar. I have two of them. And they're part of the answer to the first question." Pat continued to hold Joyce's hands. "Joyce, I've listened to you and thought about you. I remember what we had together. Joyce, it was good, so very good once. But its over now, long over and done with."

"But you still find me attractive, desirable."

Pat looked at her long ago lover. Once again, Joyce caught the look of sympathy, this time mixed with understanding.

Of course I do, but that's not the point Joyce. I find other women sexy, I find other men sexy too." She laughed. "Mike's pal, Jack Washington, for example. Yummy. But I would no more have an affair with you than I would with him. I'm married, Joyce. That's the end of it." 

At that moment there came a demanding rap on the door. "Open in the name of the lawwwwww," came from the hallway. 

Pat rolled her eyes. Tying the sash of her robe she jerked open the door.

"If that was supposed to be your Martin Lawrence imitation, well, don't quit your day job." 

Joyce stood still as Pat ushered a tall man into the room. She instantly recognized Mike.

"Hey, company?"

"Honey, this is Joyce Smithers. Joyce, this is my husband Mike Gibson."

Mike looked at Pat in her short robe. He lifted one eyebrow. Pat shook her head. Mike smiled and blew her a kiss.

"What was that?" asked Joyce, confused by the silent actions.

"Mike asked me if I had been having sex with you. I told him 'No' and he said 'okay'."

"How do you know your wife and I didn't have sex together?" demanded Joyce, glaring at Mike. "You may not know it but she and I were lovers long before you came into her life. And you may not like it but she's still attracted to women, still attracted to ME."




To Serve & Protect: Temptation



"Joyce, knock it off." She was surprised by how calm the deep voice was. "First and foremost, I know all about you, and Pat's attraction to other women for that matter. Both are things we dealt with long ago. Second," Joyce saw his eyes settle on Pat and the warm look between the two of them made her realize that she had never had a chance. "Second. I know she didn't have sex with you because she told me she didn't. I don't need anything more than that."

Joyce nodded. "You're right Mike. I'm sorry I acted the fool here." She turned to Pat. "I'm sorry I thought I could just grab you back. And I'm ashamed of myself for even thinking that I would do such a thing. Seeing you reminded me of what I lost."

"Its okay Joyce." Surprisingly it was Mike that answered. "Pat didn't get over you in a hurry. It took a lot of time and a misstep or two before she worked everything out." His eyes rested on the woman he had fallen in love with so many years ago. "Those missteps didn't come between us. There's only us."

"I see that," Joyce answered ruefully. She opened the door and started to leave.

"Joyce?" When the other woman paused Pat continued, "I know what you told me about Theresa. But there's a lot more there than meets the eye. Encourage her. Show her the world that exists beyond the pursuits she's fallen into. Don't let something else special slip away." 

Joyce smiled. "You always could see the best in people. Goodbye Pat. Mike," she hesitated, "I'm glad I met you. Take care of her." She closed the door.

Pat looked at her husband. "Mike," she swallowed, "I WAS tempted."

"So was Adam, honey. He never sinned until he said 'Yes'. You said 'No'. That's the end of that." He suddenly wrapped her up in his arms. "Have I told you lately how much I love you? And that I think you're the sexiest woman I've ever seen."

Pat laughed aloud and kissed him. Just as in her dream, he held her in the air. But this one wasn't going to change. Once more she wrapped her legs around him. Holding tight, she freed her arms and cast her robe to land where it wanted. "Flattery will get you everywhere, my darling."

"I'm going to make you prove that," her husband replied as he carried her to the bed.

"You better!"



To Serve & Protect: The Stalker



The young woman moaned and twisted under her lover. His bulk pinned her helplessly to the bed. His kisses ravaged her mouth, his driving tongue exploring every bit of it. She arched her back, meeting the hard thrusts of his cock with savage punches of her hips. Every stroke plunged deep into her open, dripping pussy. His chest mashed her throbbing nipples back into her full breasts and ground them in circles as he pounded her with all his strength.

She screamed as she felt his body tense. Then she was crying out again and again as his cock slammed into her g-spot and he emptied himself in her. In the throes of her orgasm she raked his back, leaving the deep scratches she always did to mark him as hers. She felt his hot seed filling her womb and knew this time they would beget his child.

She shuddered and opened her eyes. Her hand slowed its motions from between her splayed wide legs. Her clit pulsated and her vaginal muscles still held onto the three fingers she had plunged deeply into herself.

Rising, she walked to the dresser in her apartment. Almost absent-mindedly, she sucked her fingers. For one brief moment, she imagined she could taste his cum there. She picked up his framed picture from where it stood amongst the candles and flowers she kept it surrounded it with. 

"One day, my love, one day you will be mine." Her blissful expression darkened as her eyes sought the picture of HER on the far wall. Stapled to the old dart board, it bore the rents caused by the knife stabbed in the middle of her face. "And you, you bitch, you'll not stand between me and the man who loves me anymore. Soon, Pat Gibson, very soon Mike will be mine, as it was always destined to be." 

Days passed. She kept a close eye on her rival, closer than she was able to keep on her beloved. One night she slipped into the backyard of the Gibson home.

Peering into the French doors leading out onto the low built deck she could see much of the family room. Her heart leapt as she saw Mike settled in a recliner. His son sat in his lap and his two daughters perched on the arms of the chair. She strained her ears but could only catch the low, soft rhythm of his voice. Undoubtedly, he was telling them a bedtime story.

She ground her teeth as that woman entered. Pat scooped the little boy from his father's lap and carried him into the back part of the house. The girls kissed their father and followed. Windows briefly showed lights and then went dark.

She drank in the sight of Mike as he stretched out in the recliner. She thought of all the things they would be able to do together once they were together. It would be so wonderful.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of Pat. The interloper was only wearing a t-shirt that barely covered her bottom. She swung herself onto Mike's lap, facing him. Her arms went around his neck and she wiggled her butt against him. Leaning forward, she seemed to whisper something in Mike's ear. 

Whatever the words were, they produced an immediate reaction in Mike. He suddenly stood and scooped her up into his arms. Kissing her, he carried her out of sight. Knowing what was taking place, the watcher shed a tear, rushed back to her hidden car and drove home.

How could he do that? What could he possibly see in that short tramp? She had heard stories about Pat. She wasn't a fit mate for a man like Mike. The woman examined herself in the mirror. She was tall and slender, fit and trim. She took care of herself. Mike had to have noticed. He had smiled at her several times and complimented her. She knew he secretly wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was time. Tomorrow she would see that obstacle removed.

Early next morning, Pat dropped Mike, Jr. off at the pre-school he attended. After hugging his mother, the four year old rushed over to his teacher, Ms. Rachel. Smiling, he handed her an apple.

"Thank you very much, Mikie." The return smile from her made the young boy almost burst with pride. He immediately went to his seat and pulled out his drawing pad and colored pencils in preparation for the first class.

Pat giggled. "Stealing the attention of my son, are you? Rachel, when in the world are you going to get married and have a couple of your own?"

"I don't know Pat. It seems every guy I meet is married or gay. Or both. And heck, I've got 25 children right now. Where would I fit any more?" They both laughed. As Pat turned towards the door, Rachel called after her. "Pat, don't forget about the fund raiser next week. We're counting on you to do your magic act."

"Okay Rachel." Pat walked over to her son and kissed him. With a flourish, she pulled two quarters out of the boy's ear. "Here's your milk money, Mikie."

Pat drove to the Central Precinct. Parking her unmarked unit in front she entered the door. She stopped for a minute to talk to the dispatcher on duty, always the quickest way to find out if anything interesting or exciting was going on. After checking her in-box, she caught up on paperwork. Frowning over one open case, she decided to hit the street.

As she left she looked at the time. Sticking her head in the dispatcher's officer she asked. "Kay, can I use one of the phones? I left my cell in my car and I need to call my son's pre-school."

"Sure Pat."

Nodding her thanks, Pat called and got through to Rachel. Her friend instantly agreed to keep Mikie until Pat could swing by if she ended up running a bit late.

As she expected, running down the lead she had come up with carried her past her usual quitting time. Checking her watch she figured she had just enough time to stop by the house on the way to school. She called out-of-service as she pulled up and ran inside.

One advantage of her irregular hours was that she could often arrange to swing by the house and get something healthy when she needed to nibble, avoiding the hamburgers and fries that so many cops fall victim too. Thankful that Rachel had agreed to keep Mikie for a few extra minutes, she was munching a handful of carrots when the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Don't talk. Just listen," came a muffled female voice. Something in the tone of the woman's voice made the hair on the back of Pat's neck stand up. Reaching down, she hit the "Record Message" button on the answering machine. There was a pause. The voice called "Say hello now," and then a familiar little voice in the background spoke up.

"Mommy?"

"Oh God, Mikie? Who is this? What are you doing with my son?"

"I told you not to talk you bitch. Just do. Get in your car right now and drive. You'll find directions in an envelope in your car. And don't call the station. I'll know about any attempt to contact your husband or any lookout placed on your son. Come alone and completely unarmed or he dies. Hang up and go."

Pat carefully hung up the phone and considered her options. There was a self-assurance in that voice that made her think the woman was indeed somehow capable of knowing if she called the department. She walked back to the bedroom, undoing her belt as she did. She slipped off her holster and placed her sidearm in the drawer she and Mike kept their weapons in. Straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath she walked to her car.

She looked in the back seat. A plain white envelope was perched there. She opened it and scanned the contents. There was an address. Her heart sank as she saw the list of cell phone numbers and the warning that they were being monitored. She realized someone with this much access could very well have the capability to do exactly as she threatened.

However... Pat flipped open her clipboard and rummaged through the storage compartment. She pulled out a stamped envelope. Stuffing the letter inside, she addressed it to her friend Lieutenant Linda Shannon's home address. Cutting through a store parking lot, she paused to drop the letter in a corner USPS mailbox.

She found the address without difficulty. She couldn't think of why it seemed vaguely familiar but it did. Following her instructions, she parked in the back and walked up to the door. She turned the knob and came in.

"In here," came the female voice. Pat knew she had heard it before now. She cautiously walked into what was apparently the living room. She saw the woman standing there and her jaw dropped.

"YOU!"

"Me," the woman answered smugly. She held Mikie's shoulder, pulling him back when he would have run across the room.

"what is this all about? What are you doing?" Pat asked.

"You know damn well," the woman spat. "You stole my man." 

She went off into a torrent of ranting abuse. Somehow among all the words and curses and name-calling, Pat manage to discern the woman's fixation on Mike. It frightened her. It frightened her badly because she was absolutely sure that Mike had no idea about this. Therefore this woman was completely off in her own world. Coupled with the knife she held in her other hand, Pat was as terrified as she had ever been in her life.

Finally pausing for breath, the woman glared triumphantly at Pat. "But now it all ends. You aren't going to be a problem anymore. Pick up that little pretty pill on the counter. Slowly now. Its such a shame, you killing yourself. But I have your suicide note right here."

Pat looked at the woman. The look in her eyes was wild. She definitely was insane. There was no use pointing out the innumerable flaws in the woman's logic. Pat's "suicide" would never be bought nor would Mike have any interest in this female. And that was frightening in itself. The next person "standing in the way", when Mike did not respond, might be any of the children. She carefully picked up the pill, her eyes boring into the woman's friezened gaze. Pat pointed her free hand at her and warned. "If you harm my son, not even death will keep me away."

"Take it, take it or your son dies," the woman laid the knife blade on the little boy's throat. 

Pat looked defiantly at her. Then she tossed the brightly colored pill in her mouth and swallowed. For a seeming eternity both women stared at each other. Then Pat's face grimaced. She shook as pain crossed her face. Her hands clutched her mid-section and she fell, first to her knees, and then helplessly onto her side. Her body stiffened, spasmed and then lay still.

"Mommy!" Mikie cried out.

"Shhhhhhhh, its okay little one. I'll be a much better mommy than that slut ever dreamed of being." Triumphantly she walked to Pat's body. "And a much better wife than this bitch could have imagined." She kicked Pat in the ribs, once, then again.

Suddenly hands shot up and grabbed her foot. They twisted and the crazed woman sprawled onto the floor. Pat surged to her feet. Grabbing Mikie, she pushed him towards the door. "Run baby. Don't look back and don't stop until you can find someone to call your Daddy." She turned and faced the other woman with a look in her eyes that had frightened large, muscular men.

"What, how, you're supposed to be dead! I saw you take the pill."

"Nope." Pat pulled a small bag of M&M's from her pocket. "The hand is quicker than the eye."

The other woman gave an scream and charged Pat with the knife. Pat spun and kicked the hand with the knife. The blade went flying and she completed her spin by slamming her foot into the woman's stomach.

Every other time Pat had used that maneuver, the subject had immediately hit the floor and stayed there. But then she had never had to deal with an insane woman before. With scarcely any hesitation, the woman lunged into Pat and drove her against the wall. Her hands closed around Pat's throat and began to squeeze. Pat tried to break the hold with an up thrust of her arms. No luck.

Pat's vision began to gray. She dropped one hand to where she had put her keys. They hung on a small wooden stick thrust through her belt. Completely innocuous, the stick was in reality a deadly weapon in the right hands. Pat snatched it out. Curling her fingers around until a short stub protruded, she lashed out. The kubotan stuck the woman in the nerve center at her solar plexus.

Insane rage or not, the blow dropped the woman like a shot. Pat supported herself against the wall and gasped for air. Then her training asserted itself and she pinned the helpless woman on the floor. She used her belt to secure the woman's hands behind her back. As she did so, she checked to make sure the woman was still breathing. The blow she had used was a very dangerous one that could be fatal if delivered with too much force.

The door suddenly burst into splinters as Mike came through it without slowing down. He frantically looked around the room. Seeing Pat on her feet standing over the kidnapper, his shoulders sagged with relief. He scooped her up in his arms and held her close as three other officers entered.

"Is Mikie alright?" Pat gasped.

"He's fine, honey," he husband assured her. "He was running down the street as we came up. He's outside with Sue Adams."

Pat closed hers eyes. "Thank you, God." Another thought struck her. "How about Rachel Johnson?"

"She's okay. She's at County General with a concussion, but she's awake." Mike eyed her. "How did you know to ask?"

"Pretty simple now that I'm calmer. She wouldn't have let Mikie go with anyone without word from us. At the same time she wouldn't have been suspicious of her." Pat pointed with her chin to the other woman. "Rachel probably turned her back to call one of us and then she was hit. I was worried how hard she might have been struck."

"I didn't want to hurt her but she wouldn't believe me when I told her I was there for him." Both officers turned. The woman had been cuffed and two male officer held her. The hatred in her eyes could almost be felt as her eyes burned into both Gibsons. "I just wanted you dead. Mike," her expression turned to pleading, "I was doing it for us. I was doing it so we could be together. I would have never hurt your son, unless she had made me do it."

"Get her out of here." Mike indicated with a gesture. She screamed again and struggled against her bonds as the officers literally carried her out of the apartment.

Pat shook her head. "I could almost feel sorry for her. Almost." She looked at Mike. "How did you know it was Kay Little? You must have figured it out to have arrived when you did. Its unbelievable that she had me come right to her apartment."

"I had thought I would meet you at the school," Mike responded. "We could pick up the girls and go out for dinner. So I was already on the way when the report came about a teacher being assaulted and a child missing. When I got there, the place was in an uproar. The Principal pulled me to the side right away and told me about Rachel and that they couldn't find Mikie. I called the house and your cell phone as I drove home. No answer. Then I called back and ran the messages on the answer machine. Thank God you hit record." 

"When I listened to the recording at the house, I knew something was familiar. It nagged at me until I made the connection. Who would be in a perfect position to know if you called me or reported the kidnapping? A dispatcher, of course. That's when the voice rang a bell. No matter how muffled or how she tried to alter it, I recognized it from listening to her on the scanner in my office. That's why it didn't seem familiar to you."

Pat shook her. "But it should have. I even talked to her today. The dispatchers always have the best inside information and the best gossip. I even mentioned I probably would be running late today to pick up Mikie where she could hear me. She was in a perfect position to put the envelope in my car without being noticed."

"Well, she had been planning this for sometime. Sam searched the radio room and discovered that she did indeed have a secret line she had rigged up. If you had called the station or if anything had gone out on the air she really would have known."

"Somehow I didn't think she was bluffing," Pat agreed. She surveyed the doorway. "You know, you really are hell on doors. Good thing we haven't had to pay to replace any of the ones you've broken getting to me."

The two wrapped their arms around each other and left the building. They were almost bowled over by a small form who flung his arms around his parents' legs.

"I did what you said, Mommy," Mikie said proudly. "I ran away and then I saw the police cars and I knew Daddy would be in one of them so I waved my arms and yelled." He looked crestfallen. "It was okay to yell, wasn't it? I know you tell me not to, but I was," he fumbled for a word for a minute, not wanting to admit he was scared, "excited."

Together, Pat and Mike scooped him up. "It was just fine buddy," his father told him. "We're proud of you." 

"Lets go get your sisters. I want to tell them how brave you were," added his mother. "Sue, would you make arrangements to get my car back to me?" Pat asked their friend. Sue smiled and nodded.

As the three of them climbed into Mike's car, Pat looked severely at her husband. "Now when we have time, you and I are going to have a long talk about you smiling at other women."

"Honey!"

"I know, Mike, I know. Big old friendly bear that you are, everyone wants you."

"Yes, but only one woman can have me." He kissed his wife deeply.

"Yuck. Do you two HAVE to do that in public?"

(The End)



To Serve & Protect: Undercover Operatives



by Patricia51 and Linda_S

(Note: This is the third part of our ongoing series. You do not have to have read the previous two installments in this series to enjoy this story. But it WILL make a lot more sense in a hurry if you have read them.)

"Not there! Lower. And for heaven's sake faster."

"Faster? How fast does it need to be?"

"Faster than what you're doing, Pat. I can barely even feel anything. And you're all out of position."

"Linda, show me again where you want me to be."

"Left hand there. Right hand there. A little bit higher.. higher... right there. Okay, now twist and HEAVE."

This time it worked. Lieutenant Linda Shannon of the Sheriff's Department landed flat on her back. Pinning her to the mat at the Regional Police Academy gym was her friend and newest undercover officer Sergeant Pat Gibson. The follow through on the take down maneuver had been executed perfectly. The other woman smiled down at her boss only to almost lose her position when Linda tried to flip her in a surprise move.

"Good, Pat." Linda smiled with pleasure at the failure of her attempt. She slapped the floor twice and Pat got off her, responding to the signal. The two women walked over to the bench where they had deposited their gym bags and sat down. They each opened a bottle of water and relaxed.

"Pat, you're really doing well. I know you think I'm pushing you, but it won't be long until unarmed tactics will be all you have. You are an exceptional shot but in the position you'll be in you won't be able to carry a firearm. Is Mike still teaching you improvised weapons?"

Pat nodded. Her husband, SWAT team commander and former Marine Mike Gibson was not happy about his wife going into a deep undercover narcotics operation. But he accepted it and was doing his best to prepare her.

"Okay then," said Linda. "I'm going to take a shower. You need one too," she pointed out.

The Sergeant leaned her dirty-blonde head next to Linda's dark haired one and whispered. "Is that a recommendation Lieutenant? Or an offer?"

"PAT!" Answered Linda in a strangled voice, torn between indignation and laughter. 

"I know," replied her friend. "We promised to let that weekend be a delightful memory. I couldn't resist it though. I'm headed home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

Linda smiled as Pat gathered her things and sprinted for the gym door. Linda herself headed for the showers. She passed the doors to the open bay showers and instead entered one of the private ones reserved for department white-shirts, that is Lieutenants and up. She locked the door, reached into the shower stall, turned on the water and pulled her exercise clothes off. As soon as the water became hot she entered with her shampoo, conditioner and body wash. She closed the stall door and leaned into the water.

Linda mechanically washed while she smiled to herself, remembering that lovely morning two weeks ago. It had been so long since she had awoken in someone's arms. She had lain there just watching Pat sleep, enjoying her soft breathing and the warmth of her body. She had brushed a lock of hair from Pat's face and that movement, gentle as it was, had startled the other woman awake.

Pat had turned her head and smiled at Linda. She reached out with both arms and drew Linda close to her, meeting her lips with a long soft kiss. The kiss deepened and Linda had taken Pat in her arms also. They had tasted each other, letting their tongues explore each other's mouths again while their bodies came together. The kiss had deepened. Pat had pulled Linda's slender body over her shorter, more rounded one. Her hands had clutched Linda's back, then slid down to the cup the firm, taunt cheeks of Linda's ass.

The two women strained against each other. Smooth thighs rubbed each others' womanhood, becoming slick with the juices freely given. Stiff nipple wobbled against stiff nipple. Kisses became quick and fast, pulling at each others lips and taking turns sucking wiggling tongues. Yet even as Linda shifted to bring her wet bush directly against Pat's pussy there was none of the wild need and urgency there had been the night before. They made love like old dear friends, moving more gently than passionately, allowing each other to respond to unspoken directions.

Pat spread her legs and used the bottom of her feet to stroke up and down the sides of Linda's thighs. Linda moved her whole body in a circular motion, letting breasts, stomach and mons all together stimulate Pat. Her wet slit moved up and down, kissing Pat's swollen lips and firmly letting their clits rub one to the other. 

Linda felt her pulse quicken and moved faster against Pat. Still the mood was of gentleness. Almost inaudible moans of pleasure replaced loud cries. Linda watched Pat close her eyes, hold her breath and then let it out in one long gasp as a long shiver overtook her body. Linda herself closed her eyes and felt herself more float away than be swept away as her own orgasm came over her like gentle waves on a shore.  Linda started. She found herself leaning against the back wall of the shower cubicle. One hand was cupping her breasts, allowing the thumb to rapidly flick the nipple. The other hand was buried between her legs. Two fingers parted herself and rubbed up and down in a frantic massage. She ground the heel of her palm against the top of the slit. She pinched her nipple and released a deep groan as she plunged her fingers inside her and brought herself to a shuddering orgasm.

Recovering, Linda finished her shower. She dressed and combed her hair, looking at herself in the mirror. Following that morning She and Pat had decided not to carry their relationship any further. Primarily of course was the fact Linda was now Pat's direct supervisor. Secondly, they found that thought they enjoyed each other in bed their non-sexual attraction was more that of good friends rather than lovers. Finally there was the issue of Mike, Pat's husband and Linda's longtime friend. Still though, Linda thought it had been a lovely weekend. She was still smiling as she left the shower room and made her way down the hallway.

"Errrrr, excuse me Lieutenant?" asked a contralto voice.

Linda turned to look at a young female officer in a cadet's uniform. "Yes?" she smiled.

The young woman hesitated, "Lieutenant is everything all right? I thought I heard a groan or something like that from your shower."

"Oh," replied Linda, refusing to blush. Her eyes swept more closely over the cadet, taking in the blonde hair, blue eyes and nice figure under the uniform. "Had a bit of a muscle pull. Everything's all right. Thank you," Linda looked at the woman's nametag, "Cadet Adams."

Linda walked briskly out to her unmarked car. She drove to the Sheriff's Department and took the stairs up to the second floor annex marked "Narcotics Strike Force". For a moment she savored the sign painted on the window in the door at the end of the area. In large letters it proclaimed "Commanding Officer". Under that in smaller letters it read "LT Shannon." She entered, unlocked the center drawer and took out the folder containing the information developed by the DEA and the State Attorney General's Office. She looked again over the cover developed for SGT Pat Gibson. It was good. She closed her eyes for a moment and said a silent prayer it would be good enough.

Linda sighed, reached for her phone and dialed the extension for SWAT. "Mike I have to talk to you. Can you meet me at Hogan's Alley?"

"Sure Linda, say about in one hour?" responded the deep voice on the other end.

Hogan's Alley was the Academy's combat training range. Mike had held the record until Linda tied it while she and the then SWAT sniper were dating. They still talked there when they needed privacy.

"Hi Mike," called Linda as she saw the SWAT Commander approach.

"Alright Linda, what's up?" Linda walked to Mike and handed him Pat's cover file. He read over the documents and handed the file back.

"Mike, that cover is better than any I have ever done before. I know you're worried about Pat, but god Mike, she's good, maybe the best we've seen for an undercover operation." She walked back to her car and locked the file in the trunk.

"OK, OK, I get the point. I'm worrying too much about her but she is my wife." He hesitated. "And I don't think I could go through it again."

Linda knew he referred to the death of his first wife from cancer. She smiled determinedly. "And I'm pushing her hard, I know. The deal is this: I stop pushing her and you stop trying to coddle her."

Mike hugged his one time lover and still dear friend. "Deal."

As the two senior officers prepared to depart the Academy Superintendent asked them to demonstrate the course to the current cadet class. Neither of them had to be asked twice. Soon a cadet was holding two 50 dollar bills to go to the winner. The course was timed with penalty seconds added for any shooting mistake.

"You first Mike. After all, you're not getting any younger," giggled Linda.

Mike made a face of false anger and drew his S&W Model 1076 40 caliber sidearm. He began the walk down Hogan's Alley. As he moved down the course ,targets would randomly appear: some good guys, some bad guys. The objective was to hit the bad guys only. Linda never seemed to tire of watching how agilely Mike could move for such a big man. She heard Mike call "Clear", the signal he was done. Then came the announcement; 3 minutes 15 seconds, perfect score.

"Damn," thought Linda as she pulled her Browning, "One second off the record."

"I'm not THAT old," yelled Mike in a mock taunt. Linda comically crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at Mike's words.

Linda now started her walk. Mike watched closely at the grace with which Linda moved through the course. He knew that grace was not that of a star athlete but came from years of ballet training. Linda called "Clear" and the two friends waited for the announcement; 3 minutes 14 and one half seconds, perfect score.

"Okay!" cheered Mike. "You win this time." Leaning closer he added, "Looks like you have an admirer too." He motioned with his head towards a female cadet. Linda almost blushed as she recognized the cadet from earlier.

As she pocketed her winnings Linda leaned close to Mike. "Mike, I need to ask you something, something important." At his questioning look she plunged on. "Mike, that never bothered you, did it? I mean..." she titled her head towards the female cadet. "It wasn't the reason we broke up, was it?"

"Good golly no, Linda. We simply weren't ready I thought then or still actually. Too much baggage for us both. But it certainly wasn't THAT. Why?"

Linda couldn't bring herself to say anything more. "Just wondered. Thanks for the money," she said as her eyes twinkled.

Mike laughed. "I'm going home and see if I can't get some sympathy there. Bye Linda." He started off and turned. "Take care of her."

"I will."

Linda spent the next few weeks coaching Pat on handling her new identity. She was amazed at how Pat easily responded to her trick question at very inopportune times. Linda also made sure Pat was comfortable with the handling of "works" (a junkies needle, spoon and other items for the use of drugs).

"Ok honey" Linda told Patti, "that's all I can do. Don't worry, I'll always be nearby".

That night Pat and Mike cuddled together on their couch, just enjoying their time together.

Mike broke the silence and said, "Hey, I think Linda has an admirer now." He filled Pat in on the aftermath of the shooting match at the range. "I hope so, she's been lonely for so long."

"You don't mind?" asked Pat, not realizing she was echoing Linda's words from that day.

"No, of course not," her husband replied. "I knew Linda was bi before we dated. I never found it a threat. Not then, certainly not now. I just want her to be happy," Before Pat could respond Mike tipped her head back and looked into her eyes. "You're not jealous of her and I having dated at one time are you? She's my friend, but I love you."

Oh no, I'm not jealous darling," Pat replied. Thoughts of Linda and Liz and even of Joyce filled her head. She took a deep breath. "Mike, I have something important I want to tell you."

What she was going to say was interrupted by a soft knock on the door frame. They both looked to see the two girls looking in. "Dad," Carol, the older daughter said hesitantly, "Can we have a word with Pat?"

"Sure, sweetie," answered her father. "Would you like me to leave?"

"No Dad," the younger Stephanie broke in. "Please stay."

The couple sat up on the couch as the girls approached. Mike slid over to allow Carol and Stephanie to sit on either side of Pat. 

"Pat, we know you're going on an undercover assignment," began Carol. "We thought," she stopped for a second, "We thought we should tell you how proud we are of you, and how happy we've been that you married Dad." Pat took and squeezed Carol's hand. Stephanie took Pat's other hand and did the same. Carol looked at Stephanie for a second, who nodded at her older sister. "We're proud to have two parents who are cops. We lost one mother. PLEASE come home safe to us... Mother." With that the girls fled the room.

Pat turned to Mike, her eyes shinning. "Did you?" She began.

"No," interrupted her husband. "I had no idea and I did nothing to plant that idea. It was all them. But they're right, you come home safe." He paused. "Thank God, Linda is watching out for you. There's no one I trust more. Okay," he said brightly, trying to lighten the mood. "What did you want to tell me?"

Pat found she could not say anything to break the moment. "Nothing, except to tell you I love you."

The following day saw "Pamela Goodwin" move into the same apartment building as Maria, Terry Robert's girlfriend. Not right next door, but on the same floor and conveniently close. The move was timed for when Maria was home and she came out to watch the activity as three brawny men (all plainclothes officers) moved Pat in.

Pat saw Maria watching. She had checked out the guys and then Pat noticed she was inspecting her. Pat looked right at Maria and smiled. The older buxom Maria approached. "Hi there," Pat smiled. "I'm Pamela Goodwin."

"Maria Smith," the other woman replied. looking Pat over carefully with a slight frown of puzzlement. Then her face cleared.

"I know you. Didn't I see you one evening at Regonetti's?" questioned the larger woman. "With your girlfriend I think. Or at least an attractive woman I seem to remember you kissing.

"I DO eat there sometimes," admitted Pat, without any additional mention of companions. "I don't remember seeing you though."

"Well you were quite occupied."

Pat looked over the other woman, carefully taking in her large but firm appearing body. She allowed a touch of frank appraisal enter her scrutiny. "I'm amazed," she admitted. "I can't imagine overlooking someone as attractive as you."

Maria made a face. "I was with my boyfriend. He's rich and knows how to pamper a woman. But being with him rather limits my chances for," she looked knowingly at Pat, "meeting like minded women."

"well," answered Pat. "I assure you, I'm not interested, at least not in your boyfriend." She let a little emphasis creep into her voice on the last word.

Pat sensed she had set the stage enough for a first meeting. She smiled and told Maria, "Nice to have met you. Let me get started putting these things up. I hope to see you again."

"You will I'm sure," replied Maria with an almost predatory look as Pat nodded and entered the apartment, closing the door behind her. Pat took a deep breath and moved to the phone. She knew it was being continually swept for security and called the number she had memorized.

"Contact made," she reported. "all going well."

Beginning the next morning Pat would leave each morning to go to her "job". In case she was ever followed, her cover had arranged for her to be officially employed downtown at a telemarketing company. By arrangement with the owner Pat was assigned to a cubicle in the back. She actually just fussed with papers whenever anyone approached as though she was performing secretarial work. She left the building only for lunch and to go home. She was not allowed any contact with her family.

Over the days Pat attempted to become as visible to Maria as she could without being obvious about it. She often "accidentally" met the other woman at the mailbox or out in the hallway. Maria became more and more enamored of the smaller woman and went to great lengths to impress her. She invited Pat to lunch several times and also had her over for a drink on more than one evening when apparently she was not on call for Terry. Pat was able to remember snippets of information Maria told her and passed them to Linda. 

The only downside to the situation was Maria's unabashed desire for Pat. The redhead took every and any opportunity to touch Pat, sit close to her or make suggestive remarks. Pat tried to play a middle road, flirting enough to keep things going, but not enough to extend an open invitation to her. Finally though, one afternoon Maria stopped Pat in the hallway.

"Pam," she looked at the other woman. "How about tomorrow night we go eat some dinner together and then go clubbing? My treat."

Pat knew it had reached the point where she needed to agree to keep the information conduit open. "Sure, Maria," she smiled at the larger woman. Love to."

"Pick you up at seven then. Wear a nice dress," Maria instructed. "I like my dates to look nice."

"Well, that really put it out in the open," Pat thought. She went into her apartment and made her routine call.

The next night Pat dressed for her "date". She had dated other women before and thought nothing of going out with another woman but she definitely was put off by Maria. She did wear a nice green dress, fixed her hair and makeup and was ready when Maria came to pick her up. Her last glance in the mirror almost made her laugh, she remembered picking out this dress in a long day of shopping with her... daughters Pat thought decisively, not step daughters anymore, and a wildly reluctant Mike. He had protested and moaned and complained the whole day (except at lunch she recalled) but he had been obviously delighted at the bonding she had made with Carol and Stephanie. Sighing, she replied to Maria's impatient call, "Be right there."

Hours latter Pat was exhausted. Who could have thought an evening dinner and dancing could seem like a week? Maria had never stopped acting as though she was showing off her newest toy. She had wrapped her arm around Pat continuously, holding her in a proprietary fashion. She had barely allowed Pat out of her sight even in the ladies room. When they danced she insisted on holding Pat and having her follow her every lead. Wouldn't have been so, Pat thought, if Maria could have danced worth a hoot. Finally Maria announced it was time to head home. Stifling a sigh of relief Pat rode back to the apartment building in the cab Maria had summoned and made it safely to the door of her apartment.

"Thanks for a lovely time Maria," Pat told her.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, you're not telling me its over are you?" purred Maria. She put her arms on either side of the smaller woman. "I would think at least a goodnight kiss is in order." She put her arms around Pat and pulled her almost roughly to her. She bent her head and began to kiss Pat. Almost at once her mouth opened and her tongue began to demand entrance into Pat's mouth. Pat had no choice but to accept the kiss and return it. Whether it was Maria's association with Terry or her calm assurance that Pat would fall right into her arms, Pat realized her attraction to Maria was rather perfunctory. When Maria's hand closed on her breast and began to squeeze it hard Pat seriously considered using Linda's move on her.




To Serve & Protect: Undercover Operatives



Fortunately she didn't have to. Maria's cell phone rang. Grumbling she answered it. Her expression changed and she almost simpered. "Yes, Robert. I'm home right now Robert. Just went out for supper." She paused and then continued with a bit of a whine in her voice. "Right now? You KNOW how much I hate that warehouse, even with the suite there. Yes, I'm on the way." She sighed and disconnected. She took Pat's face in her fingers and tilted it up. "I have to go. Next time you're mine." Maria turned and walked to the elevator. 

Pat's knees almost buckled as she entered the apartment. Locking the door she leaned against it for a minute. Then catching her breath she realized she had been presented an opportunity and the cop in her took over. She kicked her heels down the hallway and grabbed a pair of jogging shoes. Pulling them on she peeked out the door and ran for the stairs. Hurrying down them she saw Maria get into a cab. Pat memorized the cab number and watched which direction it disappeared in. She returned to the apartment and called her control number and passed on the information. She then collapsed on the couch.

Several hours latter Pat heard the soft code knock on the door. She opened it and Linda slipped in. Linda looked at Pat and immediately took her and held her.

"Rough, huh?"

"Yes," Pat replied simply. "She's about as subtle and romantic as a kick in the ass."

"Here honey, these will make you feel better." Smiling Linda produced several letters from Mike and the girls. Linda's heart sank as she watched Pat's eyes become puffy and fill with tears as she savored each of the letters, reading each several times before handing them back.

"Okay, Pat," Linda told her softly, "We got a good line on where Terry is operating out of tonight by checking with the cab company. Good work there." She hesitated. "Pat? Can you hang in there? Or do we need to pull you out?

"Pull me out?" Pat said indignantly. "I've had rougher times wrestling with DUI's. We're close, Linda. I'm sticking it out."

"Okay," Linda hid a smile, knowing that Pat just needed a boost. She turned serious. "This is just about it. I will have someone on you 24/7, I will always be on call and I'll be on you when you're," she jerked her head towards Maria's apartment, "with Princess Charming there."

"Deal," Pat laughed. She stood on her toes and kissed Linda. "Thanks, Boss." Her eyes twinkled again.

Three days latter Pat notified Linda she and Maria would be going out again and this time Maria had promised they would go somewhere with "no interruptions." Linda was waiting outside the apartment with two unmarked units when the two women left. Tonight Maria was driving a Mercedes that a quick tag run showed belonged to Terry Roberts.

As before, Maria insisted Pat sit right next to her in the car. She played with Pat's leg in the car and escorted her into the restaurant with one hand firmly clamped on Pat's bottom. She boasted to all who would listen or not about her "conquest". Pat had never been embarrassed so by any other date in her life, female or male. 

During the course of the meal Maria consumed a number of glasses of wine. She pressed more on Pat, who was able to carefully ditch a lot of it in a nearby potted plant. She knew she had to keep her wits about her. Finally the dinner ordeal ended and Maria, tipping very poorly as she paid for the meal, walked "her girl" out to the car. She leaned to Pat and kissed her. "Now somewhere for desert," she winked. As she leaned to Pat her hand touched Pat's pocketbook. She lifted it and threw it in the back seat muttering, "You won't need that, baby."

Pat froze. Her cell phone was there. Linda and she had discussed her wearing a wire. Given the possible situation she might end up in the decision was made for her not to wear one. Pat prayed that Linda was trailing her but dared not look.

Linda was indeed behind Pat. She and the other two cars switched off to keep Maria from growing suspicious. All was going well until suddenly Maria floored her car and ran a red light, leaving blowing horns and the trailing cars behind her.

"I HATE fucking red lights," Maria observed. Now Pat was really shook. She summoned her courage and remained calm. All she could do now was play it by ear. 

"Damn it, lieutenant, we lost her," one of the officer's radioed Linda.

"Oh my God!" Linda thought. She thought rapidly and issued her orders. "You two try to pick her up on her last heading." Linda decided to gamble. If they were going back to the apartment building all would be okay. If not; they had traced the cab from the other night to a block of warehouses. One of those could be the final destination. Linda spun the wheel and slammed on the gas.

Linda reached the block and turned her lights off. She crept through the alleys around the warehouses and saw one that still had activity going on. She pulled up under a burned out light and parked. As she slipped out of the car she breathed a prayer of thanks when she saw Maria's car pull up to the same warehouse.

Pat was keeping a tight grip on her emotions. She knew that if push came to shove she could handle Maria. It was whomever else she would find at the destination she worried about.

They pulled up next to a warehouse and Maria got out. Leaning down she told Pat, "Come on honey. It might not look like much but there's a private office with a bedroom upstairs. And we're going to use that bed."

Pat got out and followed Maria. She stiffened just for a moment as a cigarette lighter flared for an instant, showing the unmistakable front of an unmarked car. Buoyant now, she followed Maria, who unlocked the door and went in. Pat realized the door was self locking. looking around she bent quickly and grabbed a small piece of wood. As she entered she jammed it in the catch. She almost sighed when she heard the door close without the click of the lock. She followed Maria upstairs. On the way she passed several men. She deliberately pretended not to notice at least two were openly armed.

Linda had rushed to the outside door. She grinned as she saw what Pat had done and followed her fellow officer upstairs. In dodging the inside guards she lost sight of Maria and Pat. Fortunately she was able to follow the noise Maria made. "Sometimes its good when someone won't shut up," she thought. She was even able to find a small dirty window to look into the office/bedroom Maria and Pat were in. 

Maria took Pat in her arms and told her, "Enough delay. I've waited long enough for you. And I'm not waiting any more." She hungrily kissed the undercover officer, pushing her back towards the bed. Her hands roamed over Pat's petite form, almost pinching in her feverish excitement. Impatiently she wrenched at Pat's blouse and buttons went flying. One hand drove inside Pat's bra and tugged it down to free her breast. The other hand lifted the hem of her skirt and slipped between Pat's legs.

Pat had never experienced another woman before who was so rough and uncaring of another woman's feelings. Her first instinct was to fight back. She realized that until Linda arrived with backup she was alone and her only option was to go along with Maria. "What the hell," Pat thought, almost irrelevantly "Its not as if she can get me pregnant." With that she opened her mouth and accepted Maria's tongue.

Maria took Pat's acceptance as a license to do what she wanted. She fondled and squeezed Pat with enthusiasm unaccompanied by grace. Maria kissed roughly and demandingly, pinching Pat's nipples so hard a gasp escaped from the undercover officer that Maria mistook for passion. She grinned at Pat and shoved her in a sprawl onto the bed. "Yeah, Pammie," you like that don't you?" She kicked her shoes off and pulled her panties down. Straddling over Pat she lowered herself down, commanding the other woman, "Eat me Pam. I know you want me you little lesbian slut."

Pat reeled mentally as she tried to maintain her control. Grimly she hung onto one thought. "Linda would be here soon, Linda wouldn't let her down." As Maria pushed her pussy against Pat's face she fixed her mind; if she had to do this, it would be Linda, she would make love to Linda. Pat kept Linda's face, Linda's body in her mind as she reached out and cupped Maria's bottom in her hands. She imagined it was Linda she licked and lapped and sucked, Linda she darted her rolled tongue in and out of, Linda who rode on her face. She transformed Maria's broad soft ass into Linda's firm taunt one and when the moans of pleasure were replaced by cries signaling an orgasm Pat tried to hear them in Linda's soprano voice.

Linda had ached to intervene but knew if she did they would loose Terry. While they might gather the evidence in the warehouse and get his henchmen he wasn't here himself. They needed to bag everyone.

Maria had got off Pat with a grunt. Reaching down she had patted her cheek, telling her "Pretty good there, babe. You eat pussy really well. Now I got a treat for you." Moving to the desk Maria opened the bottom drawer. She turned with a large black strapon in her hands. Hiking her skirt she tied the harness on and settled the dildo in place. "Take those panties off, Pammie. I'm gonna give you a fucking you'll never forget."

Striding back over Maria reached under Pat's skirt and felt her. "Yeah, nice and wet." Without any additional kind of foreplay she laid down on Pat. She fumbled the head of the strapon against Pat's pussy and in one motion pushed it into her.

Pat's fantasy about Linda had fortunately excited her enough that she did have sufficient lubrication to keep Maria's immediate entry into her from hurting her too much. Pat had spread her legs since there was no other option open to her and tried to relax. It was not her first experience with a strapon, but certainly her least favorite one she was sure. As before, she closed her eyes and pretended. She pretended it was Mike making love to her.

The mere physical contact actually aroused Pat's body, although not to the pitch it normally achieved. Maria simply fucked her in the missionary position, She was not completely unskilled in the use of the strapon. She shifted her hips, and moved about to actually give Pat some pleasure. She moaned at the penetration of her pussy and finally lifted her legs to give Maria an angle to enter her deeper. The rubbing of Maria's large breasts against her smaller ones made Pat's fantasy shift back and forth from Mike to Linda until they both became a confused blur.

Linda heard a noise. Voices were approaching. She moved away from the door of the bedroom suite. She waited with bated breath. All the other guards and workers she had slipped by would not be expected to approach here. Was it him? 

It was Robert Terry in the flesh. With him was a large heavy set man Linda pegged for a bodyguard. They both went to the door of the suite, opened it and entered without knocking. Linda tensed. She heard Terry speaking, "Damn woman. you brought another dyke here?" He didn't sound too upset Linda thought and she moved closer to the door on catlike feet.

Pat, to her own surprise, was rapidly building to an orgasm when the door opened. The desire immediately went away when she found two more people, both male were in the room. And both eyeing her. The body guard was grinning and rubbing himself through his pants. Pat's suddenly worst fears were immediately realized when Terry spoke.

"Okay Maria, glad you brought another playmate. Hope she likes two big dicks as much as the last one did. Sam," the bodyguard looked at him expectantly, "She can suck you. I'm going to see if Maria has worn out that little cunt of hers."

Linda snatched out her cell phone and faded into the shadows. She punched 911 and rapidly identified herself and her location to the dispatcher. "Officer needs assistance, NOW."

"Backup on the way Lieutenant", replied the dispatcher. "SWAT has been standing by and is enroute too." Linda broke the connection and called Mike's cell phone. As he answered she could hear the siren blaring. She described the situation, including the layout of the warehouse.

"Seven minutes, Linda," Mike told her. For the first time in the years she had known him she heard his voice tremble. She could almost feel him make a massive effort to get himself under control. "Can you buy us the time?"

"Yes," said Linda. "I promised you Mike." She hung up and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing," she thought. She threw open the door to the office/bedroom and marched in. 

Two male and two female heads turned towards her in surprise. Ignoring all else she walked right to Pat, put her arms on her hips and announced "So here's where you are, you little tramp! You've been sneaking out ever since you moved out and I'm telling you its not going to go on any longer. Another woman is bad enough but I find you with two MEN as well? When I get you home I'm taking a belt to that ass of yours."

Linda grabbed Pat's hand and pulled her off the bed. "You can dress latter. Come on." She pulled Pat towards the door, paying no attention to the others standing with their mouths open. Ten steps... six steps... three steps... almost there...

The hulking bodyguard slammed the door and shoved a pistol in Linda's face. Her heart sank as she finally recognized him. "Nice try there," he mocked her. "Boss, you know who this is?" He pushed Linda against the wall, covering her and Pat as he quickly searched them. With a triumphant snarl he wrenched Linda's Browning from her concealed holster. "This is the famous Lieutenant Shannon of the Sheriff's Department Drug Squad. This bitch put me away for five years. And if she's a cop then this other one probably is a narc too."

"SHIT," burst out Terry. He glared at Maria. "And you brought them right here." He looked at Sam. "Waste them," he ordered.

Suddenly the whole warehouse shook as an explosion ripped through the building. Terry's goons ran towards the sound. Gunfire sounded, first just several shots, then a crescendo of reports. Over the tumult a familiar baritone voice could be heard even without a loudspeaker: "This is the Sheriff's Department! You are completely surrounded. Lay down your weapons and come out with your hands over your heads."

"Don't shoot, Sam," Terry reconsidered. "we'll need a hostage to get out of here."

"Yeah, but we'll only need ONE hostage Boss." Sam leered at Linda. "But, hell, as much as I'd like to kill this one, a lieutenant's a pretty good one. And I'll show those bastards we mean business." He switched his aim to Pat.

Linda searched her mind for a diversion. As she desperately thought Pat suddenly spoke.

"Hey Maria," the gangster's girlfriend turned and glared at her. "I have to tell you I really do like women. Too bad you were such a lousy fuck."

Even under the circumstances Maria hissed and slapped Pat across the face. The blow sent Pat staggering back right into Terry who lowered his gun for a second. Pat whirled and dropped to one knee. "Left hand THERE, right hand THERE," she chanted almost under her breath, her hands flashing in the movements Linda had taught her. "Twist and HEAVE!" With that grunt suddenly Terry was flying across the room to land on an old table.

"Well, I asked for a diversion," thought Linda. "I just never expected it to be so good it almost froze me too." With that she half turned and slammed a foot into Sam's fat gut. His gun went off as he doubled over. Fortunately Linda heard no cries of pain. The gunshot hurried her. Facing the bodyguard now she nailed him in the jaw with a front snap kick that made his eyes roll back in his head before he collapsed. Linda kicked his gun away and snatched her Browning from his belt. Turning she heard Pat speak.

"Stay right there, Maria," the petite officer warned in a cold voice. "You got one free shot in and I owe you, so don't give me the opportunity to collect." Linda almost laughed watching Maria back away from the woman she stood 5 inches taller than and outweighed by 60 pounds. It was clear who had the upper hand here. At that moment the door burst wide as a certain six two SWAT commander came through it without bothering to open it first. Taking in the situation he let his MP5 dangle by the strap and crushed his wife to him.

A moment latter Maria stammered, "Who is THAT?" From her position with her head resting on Mike's chest Pat replied shortly, "My husband, the tough one of the family." Maria stared unbelievingly. Her glance switched from Pat to Terry's still motionless form back to Pat and then to Mike towering over her. And with that Maria fainted.

Linda and a few of the SWAT team cuffed and read the suspects their rights. The heavily armed team led what was left of the drug lord's gang to the waiting police vehicles for transport. Linda placed her hand softly on Pat's shoulder. " She was outstanding Mike, now get her home. I can take care of what needs to be done here. Pat take a few days off and I'll finish the reports."

"Okay," Pat answered. She stepped away from Mike for a moment to touch Linda's hand in a gesture that was more intimate than most kisses. Mike, his eyes brimming with the tears he had held under control, simply looked at her and said, "Thanks." With that they left the warehouse.

Going home Linda ate a small chicken Caeser salad and listened to some relaxing music before take her shower and retiring to bed. Thoughts of Patti and Mike still filled her head as she tossed restlessly in bed. She finally reached into her night table and took out a nice size soft latex dildo. She caressed it softly before licking and gently sucking it. Slowly slipping it between her legs between her swollen lips gently pressing its length in and out, her hips beginning to move rhythmically to the gentle thrusts. She moaned deeply as images began to fill her mind; images of Mike, his hard body thrusting over her in sharp contrast to the soft gentle caresses of Patti, her teasing talented tongue snaking over her hard clit. A loud scream echoed through the room as Linda's muscles began to contract then spasm wildly, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her body. Linda took long deep breaths as her body relaxed, stretching out and turning on her side as a soft smile came to her lips. Sleep finally pulled its welcome shade over Linda's tortured thoughts.

Three evenings later Linda pulled up to the Gibson house and parked in the driveway. She had been called early in the afternoon by Pat who had asked if she would stop by for supper. Linda had been very busy, but Pat had prevailed on her. She knocked on the door and heard Pat's distant voice answer her, "If that's you Linda, come on in."

Linda entered the house. Out of habit she locked the door behind her. "Pat, where in the world ARE you," she called.

"Back here, Linda," came the reply. "Hurry, I've got something I want you to see."

Linda navigated down the hall to the back bedroom. The door was closed. "Goodness Linda," said Pat, apparently recognizing even her light footsteps. "Get in here."

Linda opened the door and walked in. She stopped. No illumination was present except for dozens of candles. Their light flickered around the room. Linda blinked twice as Pat got off the bed and walked up to her. Her friend was dressed only in a sheer black lace negligee.

"Linda, aren't you coming to bed?" asked Pat.

Linda struggled for words. "Pat ... we promised ... I can't." Rallying herself she added, "You know how I feel. But Mike is my best friend and I just can't do this to him."

Linda was so wrought up she didn't hear the quiet footsteps behind her until a pair of familiar muscled arms slipped around her waist and tightened. Mike's deep voice whispered in her ear. "What do you think you would be doing to me Linda? And why do you think I would mind?"




To Serve & Protect: Undercover Operatives



"Mike?" Linda, for the first time in years was caught completely off guard.

Pat smiled at Linda as she walked up to her friend. "I thought it was about time I came clean. I have told Mike everything. About you, about Liz, even all about Joyce."

"I told you I didn't mind," Mike rumbled, "It still doesn't threaten me regardless if its you or Pat."

"We've agreed this isn't going to be a habit Linda," added Pat as she dropped her negligee and brought her face so close Linda could feel her warm fragrant breath on her mouth. "But just for tonight Linda, our darling Linda, we both want to love you." Pat kissed Linda softly.

Linda opened her mouth as Pat's kiss deepened into a passionate search of her mouth. She felt Pat's fingers rapidly undoing the buttons of her blouse. At the same time Mike dropped his lips to the side of her neck. Even with Pat's kiss Linda couldn't help but gasp a bit as Mike began to nibble the side of her neck. His teeth caressed her, exciting her as he had always been able to do without the slightest hint of being rough. She could feel both bodies tight against her, the heat from them both beginning to overcome her.

Pat pushed Linda's blouse over her shoulders. The moment it was low enough Mike unfastened her bra and both of them slipped the clothing away till Linda was nude to the waist. Instantly Pat kissed her quickly on both eyes, her nose and chin, then descended to the hollow of her throat and began to drag her tongue down between Linda's breasts. Pat kissed each breast, running her tongue over each soft globe from the nipple all the way around. She licked and kissed under, beside and between each breast and then returned to seize one firm pink nipple in her lips and the other in her fingers.

Linda caught the back of Pat's head and stroked her ears through the rumpled hair. She felt Mike's hands at her waist, unzipping her skirt and drawing it down over her hips to fall on the floor. His lips moved to Linda's ear, where his tongue ran over the edge and then dipped into the porch. His hands brushed over her hips and ran up her ribcage. His fingers touched the sides of Pat's face. As though rehearsed Pat began to kiss lower down Linda's body, darting and swirling her tongue in the other woman's navel. Mike's hands immediately cupped Linda's breasts and barely squeezed them. His fingers tapped and rolled her nipples, moving so gently for such a big man.

Linda was going wild at the sensations flowing through her body. She could only tremble helplessly as the Gibsons worked together to give their friend pleasure. She felt Pat's hands slide down her hips and catch the waistband of her panties. Cool air flooded over her bottom and wet bush as her panties were pulled down her legs and Pat dropped to her knees in front of her. At the same time Mike began to move down her back, treating each bump on her spine to a kiss. Then he was kneeling behind her.

Linda shook even before both of her lovers' mouths touched her. Pat drug her tongue all around Linda's pussy and then parted her and ran her tongue right inside Linda with one swift push. Meanwhile, Mike massaged and rubbed her ass cheeks, squeezing them in his muscular hands before opening her and moving his face into her cleft. He licked all around her wrinkled hole, tapping his tongue tip on it and wetting it thoroughly before he began to gently push his tongue against it. Pat had begun a rhythmatic series of strokes. She began at the bottom of Linda's slit and lapped upward in one steady stroke. At the top she let her tongue flutter against Linda's clit. She dipped her head and repeated the move.

Mike's tongue pushed through her anal ring, entering her and starting to move to match Pat's movements. Linda almost felt more than heard a groan from Mike, matched by a giggle from Pat muffled in her pussy. She looked down and was able to catch a glimpse of the head of Mike's cock and Pat's hand stroking it. Linda found her hips moving back and forth trying to move each tongue deeper in her. In response the couple increased their speed and Linda suddenly shuddered and cried out as she came.

Pat and Mike both stood and hugged Linda. "One down," announced Pat, "Mike? If you would, please." 

"Gladly, my dear," Mike replied. He spun Linda around, kissed her and in one sudden movement lifted her right up into the air. He lowered Linda along his body. Realizing what he meant Linda spread her legs almost into a split. She felt the head of Mike's cock push against her. They both wiggled until she felt him begin to penetrate her. Slowly, carefully he lowered her onto himself until they contacted each other. Grasping her butt with both hands he began to walk toward the bed with Linda impaled on him. Smiling in her eyes he would kiss her, push her up and lick a nipple, then lower her back again. He reached the foot of the bed and turned around so his back was to it. Winking at Linda he called out, "Look out below," and fell straight back onto the bed. 

Linda's dance training let her react by bending her legs up so she landed on her knees. Mike slammed back against the mattress and Linda's weight drove her right down on Mike's cock. She uttered a loud cry as the force of the landing buried him deeper in her pussy than she had ever thought possible. Her internal muscles grasped him and she began to both rock back and forth and then bounce up and down.

Linda closed her eyes as she rode Mike's rock hard cock in her. His hands were on her breasts again, rolling and tugging her incredibly stiff nipples. She felt the bed shift and a another presence close to her. Opening her eyes she was looking right at Pat's soaking wet bush as the petite woman stood over her husband. Linda reached forward and drew Pat's fragrant pussy to her eager mouth. 

Mike's hips were all but tossing Linda into the air as he slammed upwards into her. Linda could barely keep her tongue in Pat's pussy. She rolled it and stabbed it again and again into her friend's pussy. For a moment her tongue was joined by one of Mike's fingers. he plunged it deeply into his wife and the withdrew it. Moments latter Linda understood as Pat uttered a loud cry and leaned forward as Mike's lubed finger plunged deep into her ass. Only her grip on Linda's hair kept her from falling as she jammed her pussy onto Linda's face.

Linda took Pat's clit into her lips and sucked. Her tongue flicked over it. The bouncing from Mike only intensified her grasp on Pat's clit. She felt Pat shudder. At the same time Mike's cock fucked her to the point of no return. She jammed herself down on him and rotated her hips, grinding herself on him. Both women came together in a wild orgasm that saw them both collapse on the bed.

Linda regained herself a minute latter. She was on her back and Pat was on her hands and knees licking the results of her two orgasms from her thighs. Mike was on his knees behind Pat. Linda saw Pat rock back and forth, taking her husband's still hard cock deep in her pussy. Mike was grunting and calling both their names as he suddenly cried out and shook as he shot a massive blast of cum into Pat's pussy. With that, all three cops fell in a pile together.

Mike rolled onto his back and drew Linda to him. She laid on her side and rested her head on his shoulder. Pat spooned against her, her face against Linda's neck, her leg thrown over Linda's legs. As Linda fell into a sound sleep she felt Pat's arm reach over her and saw the other two interlock their fingers.

Two months later Linda knocked again on the Gibson's front door. She briefly wondered why the sudden invitation. After the events of the Terry investigation she had seen a great deal of Pat and Mike both, but only on duty. It wasn't that they were avoiding her she was sure, there just didn't seem to be time. Indictments had been secured against all the people arrested in the raid. Maria had been granted immunity in return for her testimony and the DA seemed confident convictions were certain. None of the officers had been seriously injured and all three of them were back on the job immediately.

Along with the invitation to dinner had been a brief department form notice informing her that Sergeant Gibson was being transferred to the Police Academy effective Monday. No explanation had been attached. Linda was sure her being here would lead to the reasons for that. She blushed to herself remembering the events of that wild night. She knew that was not the reason behind this dinner. The invitation had been to dinner with ALL the Gibsons.

As Linda mused on those thoughts the door was opened by Carol. "Hi, Aunt Linda. Please come in. Dad, Mom and Stephanie are in the family room. They want to tell you something before dinner."

"Hi, you guys," Linda greeted the other three as she came in. They all smiled and Pat kissed Linda on the side of the cheek. "Thanks for coming," Pat smiled at her friend.

"Pat," asked Linda. What's with the transfer. Is something wrong?"

"Oh no, nothing is wrong at all. Carol honey, would you bring the wine and the glasses in? And before you ask, yes, you both can have a little sip tonight."

Mike opened a nice bottle or merlot. He poured a glass for himself, one for Linda and the two very small ones for the girls. He looked at Pat.  "No wine for me Mike," Pat smiled.

"You're right about THAT," Mike answered, a broad grin on his face.

"Why not?" asked Linda in puzzlement.

"Because..." answered Pat, drawing Linda into a sudden family hug along with her husband and daughters, "Pregnant women shouldn't drink."

(Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Yes Linda, I can say that, I'm from the South. Excuse her please, she's a Yankee. Thanks agin to our wonderful Marian for proofreading this. Love ya'! Feedback is always appreciated. Stay tuned for our next chapter when Linda will be joined by Officer Sue Adams in "Back to School") 



To Serve and Protect: Virus Ch. 01



Based on the series of stories by patricia51 and Linda_s ©

This is Part 1 of an unfinished story where Linda will examine her life and watch over her loved ones while comatose (it's not the one where Linda dies in a shootout). It's also a crime story, so be forewarned of violence and its consequences.

As with my other stories, there is a long story buildup before any lovemaking takes place, and the lovemaking happens slowly and carefully. It's always my hope that the story itself will interest you enough that you want to keep following it while enjoying the sex scenes.

Thanks again to patricia51, Linda_s and LadyCibelle, my editor, for making this story possible. 

* * * * *

Crime scenes are not pretty. This one was worse than most.

Lieutenant Linda Shannon drove up to the crime scene and was directed to a parking area by a Sheriff's Department patrol officer. The man who had summoned her, Officer Josh Crane of the Narcotics Task Force, waved hello. The patrol officer, Darrell Evans of the Jackson County Sheriff's Department, conferred with Crane, came over to Linda and extended his hand. 

"What appeared to have happened?" Linda asked the patrol officer.

"Two guys going duck hunting found a human corpse. Male, Caucasian. Can't tell what he looks like. Most of the back of his head is missing and his face is pretty messed up."

"Where is the corpse?" Linda asked.

"Down there." The patrol officer pointed. The crime scene was an abandoned rock quarry which now contained a lake. A land speculator had bought the quarry a couple of years back, hoping to build lakeside homes. In the meantime, he issued hunting permits to men with shotguns, for a fee considerably higher than what the county normally charged, hoping to lure potential buyers.

The patrol officer continued: "The two men and their dog were walking through here –" a stand of high grass – "and the dog flushed a quail, I guess by accident. The older guy took a potshot at the quail and downed it. It fell over the lip of the quarry. The dog went to fetch it and came back howling and whining, scared to death. The dog's still pretty skittish. That's him hiding behind the older guy."

"Don't blame him," Linda said. She liked animals and didn't like bird hunting. She would have cited the man for reckless discharge of a firearm – shooting from the hip, extremely dangerous - but this was more important.

Josh Crane came over and saluted. "Lieutenant."

"Officer Crane, what are you doing here? You're Narcotics."

"Yes, ma'am. The patrol officer you talked to is a buddy of mine from training. He gave me a call – he found signs that this might be a drug-related homicide."

"How so?" Linda turned and asked the patrol officer.

"I'll show you." The patrol officer led Linda and Crane to a rocky outcropping. Beside it was a narrow trail leading down to the water. A dead man lay face down in the mud a few feet from the pond. A dead quail was near the body.

"Come with me and look at the man," Evans said. "There are signs of torture, even without moving him to look at him. And for some reason his shoes are missing."

Linda raised her eyebrows and looked at Crane. He had an explanation.

"I have an idea those shoes are identifiers. I think we may know this guy."

The patrol officer led Linda and Crane down the path. Crane offered Linda his hand but she refused aid. Evans continued to talk as they approached the body.

"I don't know how long he's been here, but my guess is less than a day. Can't tell if he fell where he was shot, or was thrown here."

"I'll check it out," Linda said. "But you said something about torture?"

"Just look. The fingers of his right hand are broken. Eyeballing it, it doesn't appear he broke them on somebody's face. You can see bruise marks on him right through his shirt. And look at this." Evans went over, picked up a twig, and pushed up the dead man's left pant leg. "I've never seen this before. Someone sliced off a good-sized chunk of flesh. I think it happened after his death."

Linda bent and looked closely. "You're very observant. We'll have to get a ruling from Doctor Taylor, but I believe you're right."

"Learned it from Officer Crane here," Evans replied. He's got a really good idea for detail."

"I agree," Linda replied. "That's what got him on the task force on his second try. He's been a good investigator ... when he has the time." It was an inside joke. Crane was moonlighting as a sign-language interpreter at the state university. He primarily helped Samantha Black, his girlfriend, but he would help anyone who asked.

Right now Crane was looking more than a little green in the gills. Linda turned to him. "You look like you need to go up and talk to the witnesses. I'll check out this poor guy, and then I want to come up and look at the area above the path."

Crane gratefully climbed back up the path.

Linda turned her attention to the dead man. It looked like he had taken a shotgun blast to the back of the head, from very close range. That fit the drug-related killing pattern, but it wasn't conclusive. Neither were the signs of torture, although those certainly fit the type of punishment criminals would give an informer. The interest was in his lack of shoes and the cut on the dead man's leg. Linda wondered ...

"Any signs of whether he was killed here or elsewhere?" Linda asked.

"Nothing conclusive," said Evans. "I guess his killers could have thrown him into the water if they really wanted to conceal him a while longer."

"Maybe they tried," Linda said. "I'm going back up in a minute to see if he was dragged to the edge and tossed over." 

Evans asked: "Josh – Officer Crane, that is – said something about the missing shoes being an identifier?"

Linda replied: "You've heard of school kids getting beaten up or even shot for their fancy shoes?" Evans nodded. The trend had passed somewhat, but some people still put hundreds of dollars into their footwear and about 10 bucks into the rest of their clothes combined, or so it seemed.

Linda continued: "We know a couple of people who try to out-Imelda Imelda." The joke, about Philippine ex-First Lady Imelda Marcos, was lost on Evans, but he nodded blankly. Linda continued: "Meaning they really like their shoes and spend drug profits buying the fanciest ones they can. Sometimes they only wear a pair once and put it away, then buy a new pair for another couple hundred bucks. I'm thinking of one guy who liked to do that. He had a fancy tattoo on the back of his left calf, too."

It hit Evans. "I see, said the blind man," he joked.

"Don't give up your day job," Linda replied with a grimace. Then she softened a little. "You're good at what you do. Secure the area while I talk to the witnesses."

Linda went back up the path and met the two hunters, a man in his late fifties and a kid who looked to be fresh out of high school. Uncle and nephew, she guessed. Their names confirmed it. The dog, which had seemed afraid of everybody, brightened up when he saw Linda. He pricked up his ears and smiled. Then he sneezed.

"Bless you," said Linda to the dog. The dog panted. It was a hot day, after all.

"Can you show me the route you took when you found the body?" Linda asked.

The older guy, Jake Kinney, led the way back to his pickup truck. "Tommy and I, we drove up here and got out. Buford hopped out the back before we got fully parked, and we gave him his head. He went into that tall stand of grass there and went into a crouch. Guess it'd been too long since he was fed." He grinned. Linda didn't grin back, nor did she act embarrassed. 

"Most of the grass between here and the quarry is pretty high," Linda commented. "Was he shy, or does he like tall grass?" She didn't expect a duck to favor the tall grass – Buford would have gone down by the path to look for ducks.

"Don't rightly know, ma'am. Anyway, soon as he did his business, he kinda kicked at it. That must have flushed the quail. I took a hipshot at it and took it out. Sent Buford after it. He went down the path OK, but he came tearing back up like he'd been spooked."

Linda tried to make her next comment sound casual. "Did you fire your weapon any more than that one shot?"

"No, ma'am," said the younger guy. "Uncle Jake, he likes to shoot anything with wings. We'd tried some other spots before this one." Then he got the drift, unlike Uncle Jake. "Ma'am, we pick up all our shell casings. Uncle Jake's got powder and shot and a reloading apparatus. We don't litter. You can check what we fired and the shells we got left. I promise, we didn't get near that guy until we went back to the truck and called the Sheriff's Department. The shot we've got is bird shot anyway – you might kill a guy with it but you wouldn't tear his head off."

"Thank you for the information," Linda said. "I didn't figure you'd kill a man by accident. Can you show me the exact route you took? But hold on a minute."

The reason for holding on was the imminent arrival of a University vehicle. The driver, Peter David Moskow, hopped out and got out a video camera, recorder and microphone equipment. He also got out a mask – it looked like an old-fashioned gas mask from the 1940s, which is what it was. He donned that and secured it while getting the video equipment ready.

"This man will follow us, videotaping as you describe your actions," Linda said.

"Like on Cops or something?" Uncle Jake said. He seemed mighty pleased at the chance to be on TV.

"Something like that," came a Darth-Vader like voice from behind the mask. "Please go ahead and state your names for the camera, and let me get some perspective shots. Lieutenant, please count off twenty-five steps at two feet apiece so we can put a distance marker there."

After Linda had marked off the space and returned to the scene, she and Pete started following the pair as they described their travels. During a break in the action, Linda asked Pete about the gas mask.

"You can't come from West Texas and not breathe dust," Pete said in that voice. And I breathed about 30 thousand cigarettes, second hand, at school parties in college. I've had bronchitis and sinusitis and asthma since I was a boy. Better safe than sorry in all this high grass."

"Whatever," Linda said. After some initial resistance, she had liked Pete. He had helped a lot on an earlier case where a police officer was killed and a man barricaded inside a house was wounded – Pete, through studying video footage of the event, had cleared the barricaded man of the capital murder charge. The man was her lover Sue Adams' father, upset because his daughter was living in an openly gay relationship. Sue's father had since left town, but Sue's mom had befriended Linda and her friends on the force.

Pete had later approached the department with a proposal to set up a video and computer laboratory in the Sheriff's Office to analyze crime scenes. Although the expense had cost Linda her promotion to Captain, she hadn't minded too much – money wasn't a problem with her, and she wanted some more experience as a Lieutenant before becoming an overall supervisor. Pete was also working for the University, videotaping teleconferences and lessons for people in the healthcare field for continuing education.

The quartet and the dog started out along the path Uncle Jake and Tommy had blazed through the tall grass. Uncle Jake gave statements, with Tommy adding an additional comment or two. Pete sometimes asked for distance markers to give perspective. 

"This is about the point where Buford flushed the quail," Uncle Jake said at last. "I was about thirty feet behind him, I 'spect. Tommy was back of me about two steps." While Linda walked to the spot where Uncle Jake had stood, Pete asked what had happened then.

"I took one shot and the quail went over the lip of that hole in the ground there. Buford took off running toward that path. He came back up out of there maybe fifteen seconds later, yelping and whining."

"Back the way he came?"

"No," said Tommy. "He must have smelled something ... he cut a big swath to your right." He pointed camera right, and then went to an area of the grass which looked somewhat disturbed. Pete signaled him to stay where he was, and then focused his camera on the area. He saw plenty of agitated grass highlighted by a dog's paw prints in a muddy area, with the back two legs dug deep in the ground like the animal had gotten traction for running. He then swung around and looked at Linda, who was crouched low studying the ground.

"What do you see, Lieutenant?"

"The grass here is pressed down pretty flat and there are signs of two or three people's footprints. Come have a look." 

Pete did, leaving the two hunters where they were, and recorded the scene. He followed Linda back to the spot where the quail had been flushed and continued on. Buford had taken the shortest route to the lip of the quarry; the drag marks were off to the side, indicating the grass had been used to make the ride smoother.

"Look at that," Linda said suddenly. It was a spot where Buford's path had intersected with the drag marks. Pete focused his camera and zoomed in. The grass was smeared with dried blood and brain matter. Tommy, who came over to look, suddenly got a "hurl" look on his face. 

Pete said: "Maybe the dog got a sniff of this while returning, and panicked. Tommy, why don't you go over and show how Buford went around this when he came back."

They trailed the drag marks to the edge of the quarry. It looked like, rather than go to the bottom with the corpse, two people had dragged him that far and flung him off the edge.

"Okay, Lieutenant. Do you have any hypotheses?"

"The blood isn't fresh. I'd say the victim was killed some time earlier and brought here. It may have been at night. Two people threw him out, hoping to hit the water, and didn't stay around to see if he made it or not. The mud's wet enough to cause a splashing sound."

"And, for the record, the moon set at an hour after sunset last night – I looked it up," came the Darth Vader voice. "I wouldn't want to negotiate that path in the dark. Has anybody called the Medical Examiner yet?"

"I did upon seeing the body," said Josh Crane, who had somewhat recovered from his nausea. "But they may be a while getting here. I think the wagon is at the site of a house fire. A kid was trapped inside and died."

"Where was the house fire?" Linda asked. Crane looked through his notebook and gave an address. Linda cursed.

"That's a known drug hangout. A guy named Miguel Espinoza crashed there a lot. He had fancy shoes and a tattoo on his inner calf. Thank you, Officer Crane – tell Officer Evans a thank you as well. File your report with your Sergeant. And, if you are a praying man, say a prayer for that little kid's soul."

"Will do, Lieutenant."

The dog sneezed again and sounded like he was coughing. Linda went over to him and said, "Bless you, Buford."

* * * 

The Narcotics Task Force met in an unused classroom at the police academy two days later. By prior agreement, Pete Moskow and his regular camera operator, Liz Guerrin, were also present. 

Lieutenant Sam Cronin checked his watch and stirred uneasily. It was very unusual for his boss to be late. Cronin could handle the meeting by himself, but he deferred to Lieutenant Shannon whenever possible. She had been denied a promotion to Captain by a budget cut, but another Lieutenant had quit the force and Cronin had passed the exam and made the cut before Linda got the bad news. Cronin had applied to head the Narcotics Task Force under Shannon's overall supervision, and he stayed on as second-in-command despite their equal rank.

Officer Sue Adams, the Lieutenant's first recruit for the task force, also stirred uneasily. She knew Linda hadn't been herself for the last day or so. No wonder, given that crime scene and the revelation that the fatal torching of a house had been related to the murder. But Linda seemed very tired and short of breath. She had passed on a lovemaking session with Sue the previous night. Sue was hoping to make it up tonight. 

Finally Linda walked into the room, rather slowly. She sat down in a chair as Cronin perched on the edge of the desk. Pete gave a signal and Liz started rolling tape.

"DNA testing proves that the deceased was, indeed, Miguel Espinoza. A known drug dealer out on parole for a controlled-substance-sales conviction. He was still dealing a little on the side, and we put the arm on him. Work for us or go back with at least fifteen more years of a prison cell.

"He went back as if nothing had happened," Cronin continued, "but he did tell us of some new boys in the area. Turn to the next page in your handout." Cronin looked up to Liz's camera and talked to it. "We'll insert the PowerPoint slide presentation of the mug shots here." Pete nodded; the slides weren't ready yet. 

Cronin went back. "One guy is Yakov Olinsky, a former member of the Israeli Army. Dishonorably discharged for his role in a drug ring over there, he sneaked back to the States and is alleged to be a gun for hire. His specialty is the Uzi and the knife. Regard him as extremely dangerous, and underline extremely a couple of times. If he wanted to kill you and you didn't know it, you'd never know it. They'd be fitting you for a halo within two seconds of his approaching you."

Cronin mentioned a couple of names more familiar to the task force. One was a biker dude known as Curly Bill McKenzie, nickname taken from an outlaw leader of the 1880s. Curly Bill's specialty was the shotgun, and there was a strong possibility he had pulled the trigger on Espinoza. 

Curly Bill was chief lieutenant to Carlos Ramirez, suspected lord of a dozen drug rings up and down the southeastern United States. One of the criminals Fidel Castro had dumped on the United States during the Mariel boat lift of 1980, he seemed to be the living embodiment of Al Pacino's Scarface – but notably smarter and less flamboyant than that character. There were no obvious ties or flaunting of money; Ramirez lived alone in a fairly modest house, with plenty of visits to ladies of the evening – but no divulging his secrets, except perhaps to one down-and-out streetwalker whose mutilated corpse had surfaced more than a year after her disappearance.

By this time, Linda had arrived. Pete signaled Liz to stop tape and replay it through her camera so Linda could see what had been said. Liz set up again, Linda introduced herself, then walked to the main desk and sat on the edge. Cronin vacated it for a chair. Linda looked worse than usual as she spoke.

"Turn to your next slide. That's a picture of the house that burned three days ago. A family of four lived there. Dad and Mom and two daughters. From rumors on the street, the house was a drop-off and pickup point for hard drugs, with a 'respectable' family living there rent-free for appearances' sake. It almost goes without saying that the parents won't talk, but the younger daughter did. Sergeant Gibson [Patricia Gibson, of Family Welfare Services and a close friend to Linda] is working with her now. 

"She said two masked men came in and ordered everybody out except for Espinoza, who was 'playing cards' with Dad. Maybe he was, I don't know, that's what the girl says. All of them got in the car and took a long drive in a hurry. When they got back into town, they spotted smoke coming from the house. The older daughter bolted from the car and ran back in to get some mementos. That's when the flashover hit – where heat and smoke build up until there's no more room and it turns in on itself, burning all the oxygen and everything else like a blowtorch. She didn't make it halfway across the living room." 

Linda bowed her head and took several deep, rasping breaths. Pete whispered to Liz, "Stay on her. Don't flinch." Liz shot him the finger with her free hand, but held the shot. Linda looked up.




To Serve and Protect: Virus Ch. 01



"I heard that and saw that," she said. "But it's right to show how devastating this can be to a cop. We have an arson and two homicides to investigate here, one of them for no reason at all. Torching that house didn't get rid of the evidence a murder had appeared there – Dr. Taylor could find a needle in a haystack or DNA evidence in a pile of ashes. All it did was kill a little girl and intimidate an entire neighborhood. We'll have to formulate a plan to tie this evidence to the likely suspects, and if they aren't guilty, to find out who else could have done it. I am open to suggestions."

Liz panned across the room and stopped when a hand went up. Sue said: "An undercover operative?"

"A good idea," Linda replied, "but we have to dig really deep to find someone who they won't know, or maybe someone they think they know but won't suspect."

"What about me?" Liz said suddenly. She passed the camera unceremoniously to Pete and went to stand by Linda. "I'm an addict. In recovery, clean for a year, but an addict."

Linda eyeballed Liz up and down. "Suppose they make you use again?"

"Then I'll have to clean up again. Besides, I have some things going in my favor. I frequent the clubs a lot, I look like a butch lesbian, which I am, and I can talk my way out of a lot of tough situations."

"You are not a trained police officer, Ms. Guerrin." That from Lieutenant Cronin. But Sue Adams raised her hand again.

"I have an idea this could work, Lieutenant. She knows a lot about the Sheriff's Department and the crooks around here know it. If we feed her phony tips about corruption in the department and she passes it along, the drug lords will see her as a pipeline of information. If we send out a detective or two on a bust and he or she pockets the drug money, she could tell them. Then they try to get the detective in their pocket. The detective reneges on a promise, they try to kill the detective, and we jump on them. I doubt Curly Bill or the other guys will change their M.O."

Linda looked Sue over up and down. "Sounds awfully risky to me, Officer Adams. You are asking not only Ms. Guerrin but an unnamed officer to put his or her life on the line and risk a horrible death. Maybe more than one."

Sue replied, "Lieutenant, we do that every day. It's a question of whether they are stronger or whether we are stronger. To put it simply, it's the real war against terror. Do we win our small battle or do they?"

Cronin replied: "Mighty profound, Officer." Pete panned over to Sue, who gave a high sign for the camera. She said: "Mr. Moskow and I worked it out beforehand. He was going to ask why we fight this war on drugs anyway, why we don't give it up like they gave up on Prohibition. I wanted to tell him that the cruel people will rule no matter what the method – liquor, harder drugs, sex, stealing, whatever – unless they know in advance that someone's going to stand up to them."

Pete gave a shrug and then cursed himself as the camera made a big tilt up and down. Everybody else in the room laughed.

* * *

That night, Sue got home early and made preparations for a night of lovemaking. She made Linda's favorite tea and a good meal from her mother's recipe, checked the bed to make sure everything was in shape, and checked the sex toys for what would suit Linda's mood. She drew a bath, scrubbed herself thoroughly, and set up another bath for Linda. She got some water and put it into a humidifier to loosen Linda's lungs, and turned the humidifier on low, adding some scented oil that gave the room a pleasant scent.

She got out Linda's favorite photo album and laid it on the coffee table, and looked through the photos of Linda, which never failed to give either of them a warm glow. Sue had included some pictures of herself, including those of her graduation, those from her commissioning as a police officer, and several of her in really nice outfits – including one rather revealing swimsuit shot. Sue knew Linda loved her in any outfit, but the swimsuit shot was a favorite because of the look in Sue's eyes when she looked at Linda behind the camera. Besides, Sue wasn't really past that vanity stage where she didn't want to look beautiful for the right person. 

Sue took a phone call from Pete as she waited. Pete had wrangled jobs for himself and for Liz at the university, broadcasting regularly scheduled advice programs to people seeking re-certification in just about anything related to a hospital. Liz was doing her stand-up comedy act at various and sundry nightclubs, and Pete was videotaping the shows – he told interested parties that he was trying to get her on Last Comic Standing or its equivalent, and was compiling an audition tape for her. What he didn't tell was that he had a second camera checking for possible drug suppliers, scanning the audience. Both Linda and Sue had put in appearances at some of the clubs which favored lesbians. Neither of them wanted to get hit on, so one would drop off the other and wait for a call asking for a ride home. Sue had been visibly taken aback by some of the club atmospheres, and she suspected Linda had as well. Both of them, and Pete as well, were concerned about what would happen to a recently-clean person like Liz when confronted with some of the things that happened in those clubs.

At long last, Sue heard Linda's car in the driveway. She put the finishing touches on the meal and the tea, put a bathrobe on over her clothes, and turned on a string of Christmas lights in the dining room. Sue would have preferred to eat by candlelight, but the smoke was a bit much for Linda.

Linda came into the front door and stopped while Sue held her in a long hug. Sue could feel Linda's heart racing. Sue let Linda stand there for a while, hoping for a hug in return, hoping Linda felt well enough for the lovemaking that was to follow. At long last came the return hug. Sue stroked Linda's neck and chin, and kissed her softly on the lips. She didn't want to push it.

Linda let out an appreciative "OOOHHHH," when she saw her favorite dishes cooked. She took a mouthful and swallowed, savoring the warmth of it going down her rather sore throat. Sue had provided plenty of lemons for the tea, and Linda took advantage by eating several slices whole. Whenever Linda put out her hand, Sue touched it with a gentle caress. By the end of the meal, Linda was definitely feeling better.

The night was far from over. Sue turned on some nice music in the living room, sat down beside Linda and went through the photo album again. There was a photo set of Linda in her ballet costume, quite a few years after Swan Lake, where she had been a ballerina undercover at a dance touring company. The ballet brought back many memories for Linda. She had killed two men trying to kill Mike Gibson, and after that the two of them had made love for the first time. Ordinarily Linda, now settled with Sue, wouldn't have brought it up. But Sue, after her relationship with Linda had deepened and she had become close friends with Mike's daughter Carol, had found out a lot about what had happened. She used that knowledge to apply to her love for Linda. 

Sue and Linda had tried the "butch and femme" roles, with Sue being the butch, soon after their first time together. Sue didn't think of herself as 'macha,' as her Spanish-speaking colleagues referred to certain strong women. Linda was one tough cop, but she had a deeply human, vulnerable side and sometimes she wanted to be brought down a peg or two so she could enjoy life more. So, occasionally, Sue would discipline Linda with swats from a hairbrush. She did that this time as well. Linda cried sometimes, not from pain but from gratitude that Sue wasn't totally intimidated by her lover; that the two of them could be free with their emotions. As soon as this spanking was over, Linda sat up, drew Sue to her and gave her a fierce kiss.

Sue normally dressed like a college student when she wasn't in uniform, and wore college-student nightclothes. But sometimes she liked to look sexy. So when she drew her robe aside, she had on a beautiful gown and sheer panties. Linda loved it. Sue wouldn't let Linda undress her, though ... she undressed Linda one button at a time, with Linda moaning frustration and sometimes holding her breath. Linda did that often when she was building tension, and sometimes Sue had to tell her to breathe. Linda was more reluctant than usual this time. Sue attributed it to her sore throat.

Sue decided this would be Linda's night. She wouldn't let Linda get her off until Linda had gone through orgasm and beyond. She gave Linda a couple extra swats with the hairbrush, then put it aside and began massaging her buttocks. When Linda seemed to enjoy it, Sue moved away and began unbuttoning Linda's blouse to massage some other things.

Linda's breathing came heavy, and her eyes tended to glaze over, when she was really aroused. Sue didn't think Linda's breathing was unusual in this instance. But, just in case, she brought out some medicated ointment to massage into Linda's chest and throat, and let Linda sip some tea. Sue undid Linda's pants and panties, and pushed them down until Linda's bare bottom was exposed. Then she put some more of the medicated ointment on the reddened buttocks. Sue cleaned off her hands with an astringent and began massaging Linda's back up and up, then down and down. Linda moaned.

Sue was a toucher and feeler. Although Linda never talked about her previous lovers, Sue knew two of them – Carol's parents, Mike and Pat Gibson. Carol had never said anything about what had passed between her mom and stepfather and surrogate aunt, but she had told about what Pat and Mike did together, and Sue had picked up the rest from Linda's reactions to her own actions. So Sue knew Linda loved to be stroked and caressed, made love to in the old-fashioned sense of the word, before the main event.

So that's what she did. Linda closed her eyes as the practiced fingers moved all over her body, touching zones that only an experienced lover can find. Sue lifted Linda's breasts one at a time and suckled on them, then kissed in between. She left a line of kisses up and down Linda's neck to the shoulder, and kissed her hands and wrists. She turned Linda over and kissed her legs from ankle to buttock, especially behind the knees. She held Linda's legs together and traced the artificial shallow clefts between them, gradually separating them on each pass. She felt Linda's hip bones, laid her hands on them, and rocked them back and forth as if she were already thrusting into Linda's womanhood. 

It was just about time for the main course. Sue gradually sat Linda up on the couch, knelt beside her, and began kissing her tummy. Again she placed her hands on Linda's hips, feeling Linda thrust back and forth. Linda's eyes ranged from glazed to closed, and her breath came in heavy, short rasps when she wasn't holding it in. Sue kissed the thigh nearest to her. Then she slid her knees off the couch to the carpet. Linda's thighs parted as Sue went down to Linda's knee, the back of it, and then to the other knee. Now Sue knelt between Linda's thighs and began kissing, licking and sucking her way up to what was a very wet space between them. At the same time, she rocked Linda's hips back and forth with a steely grip, settling her in for the thrusting motion of her tongue.

For some reason, Linda's sex juices tasted different. Maybe it was the tea, Sue didn't know, but she liked it. As she licked up and down the vulva, stiffening her tongue into a point so it thrust into the vagina, she tasted a sweetness that hadn't been there.

Linda was crying out, almost as if she were in pain. She seldom did that, even with Sue, and Sue loved every minute of it. Sue used the heels of her hands to hold Linda's pelvis in the thrust, while her fingers danced around the pubic region, feeling for the muscles quivering and sending their sensations through the skin. She wasn't disappointed. Linda was heading for the orgasm of a lifetime, and Sue was arcing in her own right, feeling the tremendous thrill only one lover can feel for another.

Linda blew up. She thrust so hard into Sue's face that Sue was knocked backward and fell over, hitting her head on the coffee table. Linda rose up into an almost standing position, let out one more cry, and fell to her side.

(To Be Continued)



To Serve and Protect



Pat supported Liz with one hand on the small of her back. The forefinger of her other hand began to stroke Liz's wet pussy. Two other fingers joined that one rubbing up and down between Liz's lips. At the same time Pat pushed her tongue against the tight anal ring until ,lubed with Liz's own wetness, it opened. Pat rolled her tongue and pushed as deep as she could into Liz's ass, moving her tongue to touch Liz on the inside of her anal cavity. As she tongued and sucked Liz's ass two wet fingers went into Liz's other opening. Pat began to move in and out rapidly.

Liz was moaning loudly. Her cries of passion and twists and turns against her restraints completely drove Pat crazed. She ground herself against the bed. Her tongue and fingers moved faster, the deep musky taste of Liz's ass and the squeeze of the internal muscles against Pat's fingers made Pat add her thumb to touch Liz's clit. At the very first touch against the unhooded clit Liz screamed Pat's name and loosed a flood of juices. Liz's orgasm triggered Pat again and the two women came almost violently together.

It was many minutes before either woman recovered enough to move. Pat struggled up to Liz, unlocked the cuffs, and tossed them aside. They kissed each other again. This time the kiss was the deep gentle one two lovers exchange. They held each other and drifted off.

Pat startled away. The clock by the bed read a little after 5 AM. She looked at Liz who was sleeping quietly. carefully Pat got out of bed, dressed and went to the bathroom to fix herself up. When she came out she picked up her jacket and turned to the bed. carefully she bent and kissed Liz. She thought there was no response but when she got to the door Liz whispered.

"Pat", the sound froze her for a moment. "Thank you, and have a wonderful life."

Pat turned and whispered back, "Thank you, Liz." She closed the hotel room carefully behind her.

Dawn was just appearing on the horizon as Pat walked to her patrol car. She took a deep breath and released it. She suddenly realized that all the ghosts of her past had been put to rest during that night by a lovely stranger who showed her that what she could have now was more than the past had ever offered . She no longer dreaded her past or feared her future. As she unlocked her car she took her cell phone out and punched the first stored memory.

"Hi," she said as the familiar baritone voice answered, "We still on for breakfast?" After getting a satisfactory reply she continued, "Good. Meet you there... and Honey? Start thinking of what names you'd like for our children." She ended the call and smiled. It was going to be a beautiful day.

(Thanks to everyone who has been kind enough to review my stories so far. Please continue. Tell if you like it, hated it or fell asleep in the middle of it. Thanks to my wonderful friends who offer me advice and encouragement. I love you all.)