Storiesonline.net ------- Inspecting the Inspector by Lubrican Copyright© 2010 by Lubrican ------- Description: Bob has been an Agent for the Inspector General's Office for sixteen years when he gets a new partner. She's young, and beautiful, and he tries to retain professional detachment. Then there's the fact that she's from another culture, which makes for some miscommunication sometimes. Imagine what could happen if they had to go under cover together. Wait! You don't have to! You can read all about it. Codes: MF rom reluc interr slow ------- ------- Chapter 1 I dropped my briefcase on the floor beside my desk and sank into my chair. It had been a long (working) weekend, and now it was Monday, and the work would just go on. I was sure Joe Sibliani, my boss, would give me some comp time if I asked for it, but I had four cases pending, and without a partner I wasn't going to be able to look for any slack time soon. There was a post it note on my computer monitor that said "Happy Birthday - Joe" on it. It wasn't my birthday, so I knew Joe had something for me. The "happy birthday" part wasn't necessarily an indication that I'd like whatever he had. It had better not be another case, though. I knew that. I was already overloaded, and he knew it. The public didn't really understand what cutbacks meant in a government investigative agency. What they meant was that already overloaded public servants - and that's exactly what I was - decided to retire early, thus reducing the ranks of experienced investigators even more, until the whole investigative mission began to implode. And without a watchdog ... well, the wolf rules. I levered myself up and out of my chair to go see Joe. I felt like I was in my sixties instead of forty-three. That came from too many hours at work, too many hours in the car getting to my next interview or case and back, and too little sleep. And I'm fifteen pounds overweight, but I don't have time to do anything about that. Joe is just as overworked as the rest of us. He was behind a mountain of paperwork when I stuck my head in his office door. "You bellowed?" He looked up. "I didn't bellow. I left you a note. And it was even pink, which I felt was doing my part to spruce up your area and brighten your day." "I'm overwhelmed at your enthusiasm" I said. "On second thought, I'm only whelmed." "Well," said my boss, looking grave. "I think you'll change your tune when you see what else I got you. I managed to get you a new partner. Try not to ruin her, OK?" "Her?" My eyebrows rose. I have nothing against women in law enforcement, especially the kind we do, which is basically white collar fraud investigations. I was an MP in the Army for seven years, and while I had some great male partners, there is a kind of built in competition between males, even when they're friends. But when you have a female partner, a lot of that competitiveness just disappears. It's easier to be a real team with a woman. Of course there is the potential for sexual tension, but I've found that if there's any attraction to start with, it tends to ease off after you get to know each other well enough. Especially if she's married. I've never married, but I respect the institution. And jealous husbands can kill you just as easily as anybody else. My surprise was more because fraud investigations don't seem to be a draw for most women. I don't know why. Maybe it's the attention to detail that's required, or the incredible crushing boredom of sifting through a mountain of paperwork to find one tiny clue. It is almost literally like looking for a needle in a haystack. But I've been doing it for sixteen years, and that gives you some perspective and time to refine your techniques. Suffice it to say I've developed a kind of magnet to search for that needle with. "Yes, her," said Joe. "She's young, but she's motivated. It would be nice if she stayed that way for more than six months. You have a way of wearing down a partner, and I would prefer that in this economic environment, that you refrain from doing that this time." "I'm not the one wearing anybody down," I said. "It's the job that's wearing people down." "Don't start with me," said Joe, but there was no heat in his voice. He knew the deal as well as I did. "Just go solve something so I can throw that in the face of the bean counters." "We're the bean counters," I pointed out, grinning. He frowned. "I mean the ones who are fucking up our nice, not-so-comfy existence by cutting the funds we have to work with." "Yeah," I said. "That's what all our customers say about us too." "Go break in your new partner!" snapped Joe. "And I don't mean break her." "Do I just get to pick any female I happen to see, or are you going to give me a name?" I asked, looking innocent. He sighed. "Kelani Tokorau," he said. "She should be in records, getting the rundown on the forms we use. "Kelani," I said. "Interesting." "No it's not. And behave yourself. This girl is young enough to be your daughter." "I'm starting to get interested," I said, grinning again. He looked straight at me. "Consider me her father, Bob. And you know how I feel about office romances. Don't make me transfer her. Or you, if she turns out to be as good an investigator as she is a good looking woman." "Yes sir, Daddy, sir," I laughed. "When was the last time you saw me chasing a skirt around this place?" "You haven't seen this skirt yet," he grumbled. "Now get out of here. Go solve crime!" I left and, instead of heading back to my desk, which is what I would normally have done, I went in search of a skirt named Kelani. ------- I served a tour in Korea while I was in the Army. Korean women don't age well, for the most part. But when they're young, they're amazingly good looking. There is a cultural thing going on which makes a Korean girl act humble and submissive. Trust me. At heart she is anything but submissive. And there is usually some language barrier to overcome, and if you don't understand what your man just said, it's not odd to simply sit and hope that further edification is forthcoming. So a lot of GIs come to the wrong conclusion and snap up the cute young things. Then they take them home to the U S of A where the girl can really flower. Sometimes it even works well for the couple. I know this because I had a lot of soldiers working for me at one time or another who had a Korean wife. Suffice it to say that the primary lesson I learned was not to assume that that darling young sloe-eyed girl, who casts her eyes to the floor and smiles and nods, is anything other than a tiger who isn't unhappy at the moment. This became important when I sauntered into records and saw Millie, our records clerk, showing pieces of paper to a young woman. Kelani was Oriental. Then I actually took time to think about the name. Kelani was Polynesian, most likely Hawaiian. Many among the unwashed masses of maledom think that all slant-eyed women look the same, and behave the same. Nothing could be further from the truth. While I'm not an expert on the subject, I was aware that Polynesian women are a little different than Korean women. I haven't known as many of them, only two, in fact, and neither of them well. But the sense I got was that they were more assertive and less subservient on a cultural level to begin with. That culture also ascribes the same level of importance to pleasure that the Koreans do to work. Captain Cook thought that the Polynesian girls were trying to seduce his sailors, when in reality, they were just curious as to whether these white men would make them feel any better than the men they were used to. It wasn't seduction. It was just how they lived their lives. Of course interacting with the white man fucked all that up, but that's another story. Millie looked up and said something. Kelani turned to look at me. Korean and Chinese women have round faces. Japanese women have a longer, thinner face, with lighter skin and a more delicate epicanthic fold in the eyes. Chinese and Korean women look sturdy, and are. Japanese women look delicate and fragile, which they can be. Polynesian women are a mixture of the two, with an oval face and almond-shaped eyes with a tilt that is there, but isn't obvious about it. They are taller than Korean women, but shorter than their Japanese counterparts. Generally, they are shapely and rarely have either flat chests or huge breasts. They look athletic, rather than stout. Kelani was all of those things, though softened somehow. There was a component to her looks that I couldn't classify. She had the requisite thick, blue/black, straight hair that draped down her back, held from misbehaving with a jeweled band. It wasn't a pony tail. It was more like the short train of a wedding gown. Except it was black, of course. I realized my heart rate had increased from its normal 70 beats per minute to my training heart rate of about 125 bpm. This girl wasn't merely good looking. She was ravishing ... gorgeous ... incredible. There weren't adjectives of a lofty enough nature to classify her. I suddenly realized I was in deep, deep trouble. Then I realized I was going to be in even more trouble when the two women staring at me saw the tent that was about to develop in the front of my slacks. "I'll be in my office when you're finished with her," I said. Then I turned and hurried to my desk, where I could sit down and hide my growing erection. ------- Kelani appeared within five minutes. She stood hesitantly in the doorway and looked at me. The standard setup for a field agent in the D.C. Inspector General's office is a room about twelve by twenty feet, within which there are two standard issue five foot desks, two four drawer file cabinets, two what I call night stands, two desk chairs, and two straight-backed interview chairs. If you're a GS-12 or above, you can usually get a couple of bookshelves. Otherwise you have to supply your own. Toss in the odd personal items of decor and there isn't a lot of excess room. Cover the desk with a computer monitor and keyboard, plus piles of case files and supporting documents, and ... well ... it looks like bureaucratic Hades. It can be, actually ... but never mind that. "Hi," she said. "Hi," I said back. "Uh ... I'm Kelani ... I think we're going to be working together?" Her voice had that lilting accent that many people mistake for British, but which I knew to be Australian. She didn't sound too sure of what she had just said. That's not strange. Being dropped cold into a government operation can be a confusing and even frightening experience. And she couldn't be a day over eighteen, so she had no experience. Except I knew that to be an Agent, she had to be at least twenty-one. Which was patently impossible for this woman. "Are you an intern?" I asked. Her cheeks turned pink. "I just graduated from FLETC," she said, her voice suddenly hard. It was the first exhibition of a trait I would see many times in the future, and come to respect. FLETC, which is pronounced Flet-see, stands for the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center. It's in Glynco, GA, not far from the Atlantic coast, and is where all federal law enforcement personnel go through basic training. You wear a blue uniform at FLETC if you're in basic training, and are therefore referred to as a Smurf by all the other students. Those other students are already members of the federal law enforcement community, whether it be the Park Service, Border Patrol, Internal Revenue Service, and on and on. The exceptions are the FBI and CIA, which train their Smurfs, or whatever they're called, elsewhere. But even they send their people to the advanced courses at FLETC. But Smurfs had it the worst, because they were the not-even-rookies-yet that everybody else looked down on. And it was a demanding course, with a lot of attrition. Which was why people who graduated from Smurf school didn't appreciate being mistaken for mere interns. "Oh," I said. "You look about seventeen." "I'm twenty-three!" she said, getting even pinker. "Well, I'm Bob, and that's your desk," I said, pointing at the other desk in the room. It had at least a hundred and twenty pounds of paper piled on it in manila file folders that were stacked a good two and a half feet tall. "Welcome aboard." She stood there, looking beautiful. "Are those my cases?" she asked, sounding a little less sure of herself. "Those are our cases," I said. "How many are there?" she asked, sounding awed as she took a couple steps toward the mountain of paper. "At the moment only four," I said. "That's four cases?" she gasped. "Sorry," I said. "I misspoke. There are actually only three on your desk. I'm working on the fourth one here." I patted the three stacks of folders, each a foot tall, that covered a third of my desk. "That's insane," she said. "That's the biz we're in," I replied. "What do I do?" she asked. Ahhhh. She had just scored a point. Instead of trying to impress me with her self-perceived talents and value, she was willing to ask for direction. It was a good sign. I realized I had just thought about her as a criminal investigator for the first time. That was a good sign too. Then I realized I was staring at her chest. Oh well. Baby steps. ------- Actually, it only took Kelani six days to get up to snuff on our cases, which was better than impressive. She was intelligent and had an eye for detail. She asked a lot of questions and had this way of stating "truths" that she then let me either confirm or correct. It was actually quite helpful to me too, because I had to present the cases to her in some coordinated, logical fashion. In the process something jumped out at me in one of them which turned out to lead to the missing piece of the puzzle that solved the case. I actually gave that lead to her as her first lead to run down. Then I used that case for her to learn how to write a final report on and present to the AUSA, which stands for Assistant United States Attorney. He took the case, but only because it was Kelani presenting it. He wanted to keep her in his office for as long as possible, and the only way to do that was to accept the case. I almost laughed, watching him drool over her. By then we had been working together for two months, and I had learned how to shut my libido down upon command ... sort of. It, meaning my libido, was a little like this mixed breed Black Lab puppy I had when I was a kid. When I came home from school that dog went absolutely apeshit until I had spent at least ten minutes paying attention only to her. Then she'd calm down and be a normal dog. When Kelani first came in in the morning my libido acted like that dog. I got an erection, had wild, crazy fantasies, and then slowly doused the fire with buckets of reason. Necessity is the mother of invention, so I invented a tradition where, for the first fifteen minutes of each day, we went over what we had done the day before, and what we were planning to do on that day. While I stayed seated at my desk. So she couldn't see what she had done to me. I said it was to make sure we both knew what the other was doing, but it was really just a way to let my vital signs return to normal after the adrenaline rush of seeing her for the first time each day. I'm serious. She was that good looking. Still, it was a rocky start for her because we didn't build the normal intimacy between partners that usually happens. I just couldn't take her out to drink beer and shoot pool and chase women. Or merely admire women if he was married. And then there was the sudden influx of visitors to my office with urgent, complicated, time consuming questions. They were all males, of course, and at least half of them were married. Doug Masters is in his fifties, has grandchildren and has been married to the same woman for thirty years, and even he came in and drooled over her. I talked to Joe and he had a meeting, while Kelani was out on an interview, and basically told the guys she had a Samoan boyfriend who was jealous, who had threatened my life, and who was being kept on a short leash by his girlfriend. That was all a lie, of course, but at least the gawkers slacked off and only salivated from afar. Five months into her probationary year, I knew I had a winner on my hands, and was going to try to keep her as my partner for as long as humanly possible. She was smart as a whip. She had made her own case right there in the office when she saw a janitor struggling with a trash can liner which kept slipping down into the can. She chatted with the guy about it, and he complained that the bags weren't tall enough. So she found the specification sheet on the bags and figured out that all the bags on the rolls in our office were two inches too short. That expanded to all the bags we could find anywhere. It turned out the contractor had set his machines to make the bags two inches shorter than required. It doesn't sound like much, until you realize he was making hundreds of millions of bags and charging the government for all the plastic he wasn't using. Then he used all that extra plastic to make even more bags to overcharge the government for. It turned out to be a fourteen million dollar case, and she made it in less than three weeks, based on chatting with a janitor. She always stayed in the office as long as I did, which was tough on her because my job was my life. Army life can be hard on a marriage. The closest I had come to getting married was being engaged, and all it took was one tour in Korea for her to find another bed to sleep in. I gave up women for a while, and got spoiled after that, having things the way I liked them, so I never let a woman get close enough again to threaten that. We were actually catching up with the backlog of cases, and she had only had one of her own cases refused by the AUSA. It was good to have a partner I could hand off to in a tough interview, and one I could trust at my back on a remote Corps of Engineers site where some employee had been skimming from construction funds and our presence announced his imminent long term change of residence from a nice bungalow with a wife and kids, to a four by six prison cell in Leavenworth, Kansas. Well the cells are bigger than that, I'm sure. But they're in Leavenworth, Kansas, for pity's sake. So all was going well. That didn't mean it was going routinely. There was still something there that was keeping us from having the same kind of partnership I had had in the past. Think of a wall, erected between two people, who have the magical power to wade through that wall to get to each other. But it slows them down. It's an impediment to free and easy communication sometimes. But you can get through it with some effort. I don't want to leave the impression that the cases suffered for it. They did not. We worked really well together. But there was this intangible thing there, an invisible elephant in the room, if you will. I'm not explaining this well. It was just different. And it was how I felt about her that made it different. I wanted to bang her like a drum. And you're not supposed to feel that way about your partner. So I erected the wall, to protect her from my base desires. It was for that reason that we didn't know as much about each other as normal partners would. I've had partners I didn't have to talk to at all about a particular subject, because I knew what they thought, and what they'd do in a given situation. That seamless, almost married kind of relationship was what was missing with Kelani and me. I did know a few things, though. I knew, for example, that she was from New Zealand, rather than Australia. I knew she had graduated from USC with a bachelor's in accounting. We worked out at the same time in the gym sometimes, so I was aware she knew some kind of Kung Fu/Jujitsu/magic stuff that made me completely confident she could take care of herself in a tough situation. She sparred with Jake Whittaker pretty regularly. Jake is a street fighting juvenile delinquent turned law enforcement officer, who took to kick boxing in the academy and held titles. I saw him land a blow on Kelani's head exactly once. She rolled over backwards and came up mad as a wet cat. She kicked the shit out of Jake without actually hurting him at all. Well, his pride was thoroughly bruised, but that was all. After that they just did workout fights, with neither trying to win. I knew that if she picked up a weapon, she'd be competent with it within three or four rounds. She fired her assigned pistol like she'd been born with it in her hand. Kelani knew I was ex-military and had been in the unit for almost seventeen years. She saw me lifting weights and working out, so she knew I was in decent shape. I didn't run anymore, because running had taken its toll on my knees. I swam instead, though not enough to shed those fifteen pounds. But the list of things we didn't know about each other was prodigious. I saw her eat many different kinds of food, but had no idea what she preferred. I intentionally avoided asking about her love life, because I knew if I found out some guy was tapping that regularly, I'd end up wanting to kill myself. Or him. At least for a day or two. And she never asked me about my dating life. She knew I wasn't married, but that was all. We didn't know what each other's hobbies or off-work interests were. We didn't know what stores the other shopped at. We didn't know where the other lived. I didn't know if she drank beer or not. It was a little like stories I had read, written by Isaac Asimov, where a human detective worked with a robot detective. They were a great team, but there was no real chemistry between them. And that was our status when Joe assigned us the case that changed both our lives. ------- These days, if Joe had a case to assign us, he didn't necessarily call me in as the senior Agent on the team. If I wasn't there, he'd brief Kelani on it and give her the file. When I got back, more often than not, she'd already have it broken out as to what needed to be done immediately, and what could wait until we had more time. And that's what happened with the Great Divide National Park case. Joe called Kelani in, while I was out getting our lunch and gave her the file. When I got back she had her elbows on the desk, fists supporting her cheeks, reading. "This guy is an idiot," she said. "What you got?" I asked, handing her a bag with a double cheeseburger and large fries in it. I also extended a cherry limeade. "You ever heard of the Great Divide National Park?" she asked. "Nope," I said. "Well it's in the Rocky Mountains, and they have this rustic camping operation up there. It's on government land, but run by a contractor. The only way in or out is by horseback. Snowmobile in the winter. But once you get there, they have most of the comforts of home. They have a dining room, for instance, where you can take your meals. Or you can take a plate back to your cabin." "Okay," I said, munching on my own food, fries, in this case. "The manager requisitions all the supplies, and he's been going through enough food to feed enough people to fill the camp year round. He's been doing that for the last four years." "And let me guess, the slots haven't been completely filled during those four years," I said. "Half-filled most of the time," she said. "It was being looked at to cut because not enough people were using it. That's when somebody noticed all the food going in there and notified us." "What kind of food?" I asked. "Steaks, prime rib, lobster, king crab, fresh fruits and vegetables, you name it." "Value?" "Haven't got that far yet," she said. "Some of it gets used up legitimately. And they get it in by chopper. Can we count transportation costs?" "Not usually," I said. "It's going to have to be the value of the supplies we suspect are being diverted, and it's going to have to be more than twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars for the AUSA to even look at it." "That shouldn't be a problem," she said. "Just my preliminary look suggests it's going to be at least half a million." "For food?" I was surprised. "There are other supplies too. He's either ordering more than he needs and selling some of it, or he's pocketing the fees for the people eating it. I guess he could be letting people stay for free." "It won't be that," I said. "If stuff is disappearing, it's being converted to money somehow." "Yeah, Joe said the same thing," she said. "He give us any direction?" "As a matter of fact, he did," she said. "Some Senator's wife is on the board of Friends of the National Parks and she's all upset about this." "That's not direction," I said. "That's just notice that it's going to be a pain in the ass." "Maybe," she said. "But that's why he wants us to go undercover and visit the camp." ------- "How do you want us to work this?" I asked Joe. Kelani was standing right beside me. "Take a bunch of camping gear and go as husband and wife," said Joe, shrugging. "How else would you handle it?" Images of camping with Kelani distracted me a bit. "Just go camping?" I asked. "Yeah," said Joe. "You can be a businessman who has defense industry contracts, and Kelani here can be your trophy wife. They'll buy that. I know you can handle yourself in the wild." He looked at my partner. "You done any camping?" She laughed. "More than you could ever imagine," she said. "I can play that role, no problem." "Okay then, problem solved. You two go up there, stay a week, find out where that stuff is going and whether the records match events on the ground. If it's obvious, just bust him then and there. Call us and I'll have the U.S. Marshals come in and get you or something. And if you need time to make the case, then just go home like all the other campers and finish the case when you get back. It ain't rocket science, Bob." And, just like that, Kelani was my trophy wife and we were going camping in the mountains somewhere together for a week. ------- We had to rent a car, because of the amount of gear we'd have to haul, which included sleeping bags, back packs with clothing for a week and various other crap which we honestly didn't know if we'd need or not. There was just too much of it to fly with. We included my lock picking tools, cuffs and weapons. That part was risky, because the flier advertising the "adventure experience" specified in no less than four places that no weapons were allowed. I didn't think they'd actually go through our stuff, though. I threw in several cameras. They would be expected, and we could use them to document various aspects of the case, including paperwork we didn't want them to know we had copies of. We gave ourselves two days to get from D.C. to the park. It would take most of another day to trail ride up to the camp, according to the information we'd received when we booked the trip. Then a week of beautiful scenery, fantastic fishing and all the wildlife we cared to photograph. Evenings provided entertainment of various kinds, from fish fries to mountain music, performed by staff members, to soaking in the hot tub while the air got frosty around you. And it only cost about half of what a week on a cruise ship in the Caribbean would run. Per person, of course. We made it to St. Louis the first evening, and checked into an economy motel. Per diem was covering everything, but we were expected to make it stretch, since we made cases on everybody else exploiting it. Kelani did most of the driving the first day and, to be honest, I caught up on sleep. As such we didn't spend a lot of time chatting. I was the only partner she'd ever had, so she wasn't really aware that most cops have a bond with their partner that is almost closer than the husband/wife bond. Of course in our business we weren't chasing crooks down alleys all that often, and I'd only pulled my gun once in sixteen years. Even then it had been because there were five bad guys, and just one of me to arrest them all, because my partner was stuck on the other side of a locked door. So the feeling of having each other's life in our hands wasn't at the forefront of our working relationship. I was more the mentor, and she was the bright up and coming star pupil at that point. We hadn't spent hours on surveillance together or smelled each other's farts and all that stuff. So when we checked in and started toward adjacent doors to adjacent rooms, and she said "Where we eating tonight?" I said "What makes you think I know anything about St. Louis?" She nodded and said "I'll figure something out. Be ready in twenty minutes." I left my jeans on, but changed shirts, putting on a button down. As I put my arm through the sleeve I felt a twinge of pain from the scar under my right arm where an Iraqi bullet had taken a chunk of one rib and some flesh out during Desert Storm. It was why I'd gotten out of the Army with seven years in and gone to work for the IG's office in Washington. I was pretty sure that when George H. stopped us before we got to Baghdad and actually conquered that fucking country, that we'd see old Saddam again. And the next time he'd know what to expect from the United States Army. I don't mind sacrificing for my country, but I want it to count for something, you know? I heard the tap on my door and checked my watch. It had only been eighteen minutes, but I wasn't going to quibble. I opened the door and almost closed it again. Kelani was dressed in skin tight leather pants, below a tank top that made it completely clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her hair was now in a thick pony tail that swished just exactly like a pony's tail would. She had on sunglasses, and hoops now hung from earlobes that I had no idea were pierced. "You ready?" she asked. "For this?" I asked, out of breath, my eyes darting all over her body. "You must be joking." "I take it I look like a trophy wife then?" She grinned. "Call the paramedics, because I'm having the big one!" I gasped, and then clutched at my chest. "Don't overdo it," she chided. "You're supposed to be used to this, remember?" "Darling," I said, dropping into my role as her older husband, "It would take me thirty years to get used to this." "Thank you!" she said, still grinning. "I worked hard picking this outfit." "Please tell me that's not what you brought to wear camping," I said. "Oh, I have more," she said. "But it's summer, and it's hot. Most of what I brought is pretty much the same. I thought I was supposed to be a young hottie who bagged an old fart." "I'm not an old fart!" I complained. "Of course not," she said too quickly and with almost no credibility. "Should I go shopping for better clothes while we're here?" "Uh ... no," I said. "It will be fine. In fact, it will work out very well. Everybody will be watching you, and nobody will pay any attention to what I'm interested in at all." "If you think so," she said. "Remember, I'm new at all this." "I'll remember," I said, looking over her shoulder to avoid letting my eyes drop to stare at breasts that were free as birds inside that skimpy tank top. "We'll go over things tonight. You'll be ready." "Okay ... good," she said. "You ready to go? I'm starving." ------- Chapter 2 She led the way to the car and I took the opportunity to reach down inside my waistband, grab my cock and pull it straight up. It would be less visible that way. My eyes never left the undulating ass cheeks packed into that black leather as she walked. I saw she'd put on heels that had maybe two or three inch spikes. They accentuated the hip roll. I could have watched her walk for hours. She turned and tossed me the keys. "You drive. I drove all day. I'll navigate." A car rolled by, full of young men who all leaned out of the windows of the car and catcalled to her. She calmly flipped them off. I was astonished. I had seen Kelani work, and her interaction with suspects and witnesses was good, but quite ordinary. I realized I'd never seen her in a social setting until now. We were out on the street, and she was acting like any other good looking girl going out to eat. She consulted a piece of paper that looked like a map. "Where'd you get that?" I asked. "I printed it off," she said. "On what?" I asked. "I brought my laptop and the small printer, remember?" she said. "Oh ... yeah." The printer was one of the things we didn't know if we'd need or not, but wanted along just in case. It had already proved its worth. She used it to guide me to a German restaurant I'd never have found if not for the map. "You like German food?" I asked. "I don't know," she said. "I've never had any. That's why I wanted to come here." I'd done a tour in Germany. Jaeger schnitzel with Bratkartoffeln - fried potatoes - was on my list of all-time favorite foods. The design of the place was pure American, but the food I could see on the plates we passed as the girl led us to a booth looked authentic. The place smelled good too. They had European beer glasses too, which meant big, and I saw one with that hazy yeasty look of good German beer. My mouth was watering as we sat down across from each other. The waitress left menus and Kelani flipped hers open and then put her elbows on the table and rested her cheeks on the heels of her hands. She was leaning forward, and the tank top let me see the inside swells of her nut-brown breasts. I salivated even more. "What funny names for things," she muttered. "I can't tell what anything is." "I'll translate," I said. I asked her a few questions and suggested she try Schweine schnitzel, with Spaetzle noodles. I was going to get the potatoes, so if she wanted something less bland than the noodles we could swap portions. When I asked her if she drank beer she nodded in the affirmative. The waitress came back and I gave her the order, adding a stein of Schwartzbier and another of Weissbier, so that we'd have two tastes at the table, light and dark, and she could choose which she liked better. She kept looking at the menu, asking questions, and I kept looking down her shirt. The waitress brought the beer, but Kelani ignored both glasses. Finally she closed the menu, looked at both glasses of beer, and chose the amber colored one. I left the Schwartzbier where it was so she could taste it too. She took a good swig, swallowed, and smiled. "I like that a hell of a lot better than Coors." "It's the difference between plain water and strong tea," I suggested. "No, it's just better tasting beer." She smiled. I told her to try the other and she took a swig of it. "That's good too. I'm glad I found out about German beer." An hour later we both sat back, stuffed, but happy. She was nursing her second beer, and I was on my third. "I could get used to this," she sighed. "German food?" "All of it," she said. "It's nice not to be in the office. It's nice to get really good food. I like going under cover." "Yeah ... well, it's not necessarily all Schnitzel and beer," I said. "Not that I anticipate this mission is going to turn out to be dangerous, but sometimes it all goes to shit and your ass is hanging in the wind, and all you can think of is how great it would be to have the four boring walls of your office around you again." "Maybe," she said. "But I'm going to enjoy it until that happens." I waved at the waitress for the bill. "That's as good a plan as any," I said. ------- When we left the restaurant, traffic had died down, and getting around in the city was easier. For that reason I asked if she wanted to do any sightseeing. We basically drove east until we got to the Mississippi River, using the big, silver arch St. Louis is known for as our guide. The Arch itself was pretty impressive. It looked too sleek and too thin to go that high up into the air, unsupported by any exterior wires or cables. There was a riverboat docked nearby, ablaze with lights. A sign said it was a floating casino. Had I been with one of my previous partners, we might have stopped and gambled a while, getting drunk and trying to pick up women. With Kelani in the car, though, I just headed back to the motel. I took one last look at her, fixing her look in my mind, and we went to our rooms. I jacked off, remembering what she looked like, and then fell asleep. ------- Since I still had the keys to the car, I knocked on her door in the morning and took my stuff on down. I started the car and found a public radio station to listen to Morning Edition on while we started the day. I didn't figure she'd want to talk. I hoped things wouldn't be strained between us. We were turning into a pretty good team, and I wanted that to continue. She came out of her room dressed in hiking shorts with cargo pockets on them, and a long sleeved sweat shirt. She had fabulous legs, if you like legs with muscles on them, and I did. She tossed her stuff in the back seat and slid into her bucket, fastening her seat belt automatically. "Hit it!" she said. I saw a Dunkin' Donuts with a drive through and that gave us something to get out of town on. We were heading west on I-70, which rapidly took us into rolling hills to the west of St. Louis. Traffic was light. We lost the public radio station an hour later. About all I could find was country music or loud preachers. There was a sprinkling of oldie rock stations, but I wasn't in the mood, so I just turned the radio off. I was just thinking of turning the AC on when she pulled the sweat shirt up and over her head. It was interesting, because dealing with her hair made it harder than the average woman would have to face. She was wearing a bright yellow bikini top under the sweatshirt. It went with her dusky skin beautifully, and showed a lot of that skin. "I'm not criticizing here," I said, looking over at her. "But what convinced you you'd need a bikini in the mountains?" "They have a hot tub," she said. "Oh yeah," I said. "You didn't bring something for the hot tub?" "I didn't think about using the hot tub," I said. "That's where people sit around for a long time and loosen up," she said. "You can pump them for all kinds of information in a hot tub." "And why do we need to pump the guests for information again?" I asked. "I like hot tubs!" she growled. "Where I came from they didn't have things like that." I let some silence fill the car. I had always had some minor curiosity about her background. Now the urge to probe got stronger. And partners shared everything... "So where did you come from?" I asked. "I was raised in a village called Tokorau," she said. "Wow!" I replied. "Named after your grandfather or something like that?" "No, I was named after it, sort of. It's complicated." "Fascinating," I said. "Where is Tokorau?" "It's on the southern island of New Zealand," she said, "just off the eastern coast. It's a Maori village. I'm part Maori." "And part... ?" I asked. "American," she said. "My mother was American." "Fascinating," I said again. "She worked for a whale watching outfit in Kaikoura, a town on the coast." "Whale watching?" I had never associated whales with New Zealand. "When the Maori had to give up headhunting and eating all the white men who came to spoil our paradise, they had to have some way of surviving, so they went into the tourist business. Now we just take the white man's money, instead of his head, heart and liver." She said it so seriously that I stared at her too long and drifted onto the rumble strip on the side of the freeway. I got the car back into my lane as she laughed. "Well, that's what white people want to believe." "Which part?" I asked. "They want to believe we were savages, cannibals and such like. It never happened, but it makes good stories for the tourists." "So how does one get named after a village?" I asked. "My mother died when I was little. I barely remember her. From then on, I was raised by my aunties and uncles. It would be called foster care here. I was shuttled between, and raised by, three different families. Nobody would actually admit it, but I figured out that my father came from one of those families, but nobody knew which one. When my mother died, they wanted to raise me as a native, but couldn't decide which name I should have, so I became the village daughter." "Wow," I said. "I guess it really does take a whole village to raise a child." She looked over at me. "Ha-ha." I ignored her sarcasm. "I don't know why, but if you'd have asked me if there were Americans living in New Zealand, I'd have thought not." "There are a lot of American ex-pats in New Zealand," said Kelani. "I guess a lot of GIs in World War Two were stationed in New Zealand and after the war a bunch of them came back to live." "So how did the village daughter end up in her mother's country?" "I was offered a scholarship at a stateside college. I jumped at it." "And stayed?" "Being the village child, my future would have been ... shall we say ... less than exciting." "In what way?" "I had no sub-clan elders - parents - to barter for me in a marriage proposal. And there is racism in all peoples, so I wasn't considered a good catch anyway." "You're kidding," I said. "There, my white features were considered odd and distasteful. I thought I could get away from that, but in America my looks were a burden too." "Guys hitting on you all the time," I said. "All the time," she said. "But I learned how to deflect unwanted attention. And since there was nothing to go back for, I decided to stay here and see what kind of life I could build in my mother's country." "Well, welcome to America," I said. She grinned. "And it only took you six months to say it." ------- She asked me about my military career, and interesting cases I'd worked while I was an Agent for the IG. That took us through Kansas City and into the prairie that was most of western Kansas and the eastern edge of Colorado. We had shared a little, which was a big step for us, though what we covered was something we should have known about each other within a month of working together. There was a forced quality to it, like we were trying too hard to get to know each other. Finally I started going over the game plan for what we'd do once we checked in at the reception area in the park. When we had beaten our plans to death, there was silence for a while, and she looked out the window of the car. "It's amazing," she said. "What's that?" "This country. It's so huge. Right now it looks like I'm looking out at some strange ocean." I looked at the vast stretches of wheat, rippling in the wind, golden and ready for harvest. I looked back at her upper body, graced by the yellow cloth of that bikini top. "At least you're dressed for the ocean," I quipped. ------- When we got into Colorado we stopped for gas and switched drivers. I took a nap, and woke up to see her spreading sunscreen on her chest and arms. Watching her hand dip down into that bikini top made my cock twitch. She saw me move and looked over at me. She didn't seem at all embarrassed about what I had apparently just seen. "Question," she said. "Answer," I replied. It was a little ritual we'd gotten into, and it almost always worked out well, because I almost always knew the answer to whatever question she had. "How far are we supposed to go to look married?" My mind flew off in the direction my balls wanted it to go. I managed to grab it and bring it back. "You've seen married couples in public," I said carefully. "We just act like them." "So I should kiss you once in a while," she said. "In the right setting, I suppose," I said. "And the other kinds of common touches married people engage in." "Are you going to grab my ass?" she asked, laughing. Again my balls sent my mind skittering down a slippery slope and I reined it in. "I doubt the occasion will arise where that is needed," I said. She stopped laughing, and shot me a look. "I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, Bob," she said. "I've known a few men like you, but not many, and of course I never had to pretend to be married to one." While I was trying to figure out what that meant, exactly, she distracted me again. "Okay, so some hand holding, arms around each other, affectionate pushes and caresses. You'll be the older guy who bagged a hottie, and I'll be the hottie satisfied by the man with all that experience." "Something like that," I said. "Have you done this before?" she asked. "With a woman I mean?" "Nothing this protracted," I said. "I've been on missions with women, but usually they only last one day, or one evening or whatever." "So can you pull this off?" she asked. "Me?" I was shocked that she could even begin to question my capabilities. "Yeah, I think I can struggle through it. I just don't want you using any of that Kung Fu and kicking my ass because I touched yours." She laughed! Then she looked over at me. "I know it's play acting, Bob. I won't take it personally, if you won't take it personally when I do the same thing back to you, okay?" I thought she was absorbing all this awfully easily. But she was a big girl, so I took her at her word. "We'll be fine," I said. "As long as we remember it's just acting." "We'll be fine," she affirmed. ------- We avoided the urban center of Colorado Springs by skirting south. We got to the park around eight in the evening. Mountain Standard Time kicked that back to seven. We got directions to the tour lodge, which had a room ready for us, and an information sheet that told us where to be at seven the next morning. The tour lodge was built of logs. It was two stories, but hollow in the middle, with a twenty foot ceiling. There were mounted elk, deer, and bear heads on the walls. Smaller animals were mounted and posed on platforms that looked like the territory they lived in. It was almost like a museum. The guest rooms circled the balcony around the second floor. There were vending machines on the first floor and rooms for the staff. It was very rustic. When we entered the room there was a plank bed, larger than a double, but smaller than a queen, with a custom made mattress that felt like it was stuffed with old fashioned cotton tick. There were no linens. Guests were expected to bring everything they would need. Our room shared a bathroom with the room next door. The door to the other room was locked on the other side, as ours could be. There was a knob in the middle of each door that could be turned by hand, and which flipped an arrow on the other side of the door from "Free" to "In Use." You could lock your room, but you couldn't lock the other people out of the bathroom. "By the standards of my village, this is palatial," said Kelani, looking around. "I'm going to grab a quick shower." "Leave me some hot water," I joked. "Do you think they have hot water here?" she asked. "It's not that rustic," I chuckled. She rooted around in her pack and pulled out a towel and change of clothes. Then she turned to look at me, and I was caught standing there. I had been watching her, because she was just so much fun to watch. "Look," she said. "I don't want to pry or anything, but like I said, this is the first time I've been in this kind of situation. So how are we going to handle nudity?" "Nudity?" I repeated, feeling a little light headed. "We have to live together for a week. I can try to keep everything covered if it's going to make you uncomfortable, but it will make things kind of stiff between us." Things were already stiff between us ... in more ways than one. I wondered if her culture had a different view of nudity than the one she was in now. Maybe they were less hung up about their bodies. "Whatever makes you comfortable," I said. "If something bothers me, I'll let you know." "Good," she said, smiling. "I think that's best. I mean if we're going to be acting married, then we should learn to be comfortable with each other. We can think of it like being in a locker room." Then she lifted the tank top off her body. Right there in front of me. Before I could say or do anything she popped the button on her shorts and pushed both shorts and panties down. Just like that she was naked. Her nipples and areolas were almost black, and I saw that her black pubic patch had been trimmed to a long, thin vertical line. Bikini cut. The radical kind. She picked up the towel and, giving me only a glance, went into the bathroom. She left her fresh clothes lying on top of her pack. I didn't know what kind of locker rooms they had in New Zealand, but I was now interested in visiting the country and taking the locker room tour. ------- I'm not used to being off balance. I'm especially not used to a rookie putting me off balance. On auto-pilot, I got new clothes and my own towel out, and then sat on the bed and waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. When she did she was still naked, and was using the towel to pat her long, black hair dry. "They do have hot water, and I saved you some," she said. I think that what happened then was that experience and training took over. I was suddenly in mission mode in my head, which meant I was thinking of the next step in the mission, rather than what I wanted to do with that body. And the next step was for me to act as casual about all this as she was. She was in the process of getting dressed, which I dearly wanted to watch, but I needed her distracted to get to the bathroom without her seeing the evidence of my arousal. I stripped in record time and, using the towel as a shield, hurried to the bathroom. I took what I was going to wear with me. Beating off in the shower was easier and quicker than beating off in the motel room the night before. Of course that was probably because I had an even better image in my mind. My cock was angry and red looking when I was finished, and I was glad I didn't have to go out there where she could see it. She'd know immediately what I had just done. As odd as the circumstances were, I wasn't ready for them to be that odd. ------- When I came out of the bathroom, she was gone. I took a stroll around the lodge and found her sitting at a table with three other women. They were chatting animatedly. I looked around and saw three men sitting at a bar tucked in the corner of the room. They were drinking longnecks. The first thing I thought of was how often I'd seen bars being run by contractors on Government property, when most citizens would assume that would never happen. "There you are, darling," Kelani cooed at me as I approached. "This is your husband?" asked one of the women, a red head in her late twenties, who reminded me of Little Orphan Annie all grown up indeed. "Kelani, you little devil! When you said you picked a man with experience I thought maybe you meant a divorcee on the rebound, not GI Joe!" Kelani looked at me and then back at the woman. "He was a wild stallion, but he was the one I wanted. So I cut him from the herd and threw a rope on him." The blonde tittered. "I wouldn't mind taking him for a ride myself." She obviously thought she was paying me a compliment. The third woman, whose hair was as black as Kelani's, though much finer, looked at me. "Hi. Our husbands are over there," she said. She obviously expected me to join them and engage in the male version whatever was going on at the women's table. "Not much of a drinker," I said. I pulled a chair out, flipped it around and straddled it, sitting so I could lean forward against the back of the chair. "Evening ladies. I see Kelani has flocked with birds of her feather. I sincerely hope you are all going camping in the mountains tomorrow morning." The blonde tittered again. Little Orphan Annie licked her lips. The one with black hair said "Yes, Brad and I love to get away in nature for some intense personal time." Good, she was putting me on notice that Brad was her man, and I wasn't welcome. That was fine with me. Kelani said "Darling, let me introduce you to my new friends." She pointed to Annie. "This is Kathy - with a K..." She had obviously forgotten the woman's last name. "Tubbs," said Annie brightly. She pointed at the bar. "The one in the Dallas Cowboys hat is Steve, my husband." Kelani gestured towards blondie next. "This is Jennifer." She didn't even try for the last name. "Jennifer Keystone," the blonde tittered. I wondered if she ever said anything without tittering. "My husband is the one in the middle, John." "And this is -" "Wendy Stillson," said the one who wasn't interested. "Brad is the handsome one." My goodness she was resisting my charms. "How long have you two been married?" asked Kathy, who I would always think of as Annie. "Three days after we get back from this trip, it will be our six month anniversary!" said Kelani in obvious rapture. "You're practically honeymooners!" squealed Annie. "We'll have to make allowances for all the noise from your cabin." She grinned widely. Kelani's dusky skin got darker and she lowered her eyelashes. I had underestimated her. She was magnificently talented at this acting thing. And she had already provided an excuse for any slipups we might make by suggesting we barely knew each other, at least compared to those who had been married for years. Jennifer was having a giggling fit, her eyes darting from Kelani to me and back again, as if she were imagining the honeymooners making noise. "I try to keep her happy," I said blandly. "Wouldn't want her to get bored and go exploring." None of the women smiled. Now I was in dangerous territory. Kelani laughed, her voice rising and falling again so naturally that I thought she was actually laughing at what I had said. She looked at me and reached out to run a finger down my thigh, her nail leaving a momentary dented line in the fabric of my pants. "No other man will ever touch me," she said huskily. I heard a sharp intake of breath from one of the women. I couldn't tell who. "Oh my god," sighed Annie, answering the question. "I remember feeling that way about Steve. It seems so long ago now." Wendy stood up. "I have to go," she said. She seemed agitated. "It's late, and we have an early start." She started toward the drinkers. "Me too," said Annie, standing. She was wearing a well-filled western shirt. Their banter, or Kelani's comment, had affected her so much her nipples were showing plainly through the shirt. She followed Wendy. Jennifer wasn't giggling any more. In a flash of something that instantly told me the giggling was an act, she stood up. "Well if they're getting laid tonight..." she looked at Kelani, "and I know you are ... then I'm climbing on that bandwagon." She looked at the bar. "If, that is, John didn't drink too much." She looked at me, giggled hysterically, and was back in character. "Best of luck," I said, smiling. She dropped out of character long enough to say "Thank you," and then hurried after the other two women. Kelani turned to me. "So ... shall we retire too?" ------- Chapter 3 "Do you think they will?" asked Kelani as I closed the door to our room. "Will what?" I asked. "Get laid tonight?" "They'll try. You got them going. I was very impressed." "All I did was what I used to see the old women doing as they worked. They were practically pornographic when they chatted. Of course I didn't know the difference until I came to America. It took some getting used to. I kept saying things that were considered rude in polite society." I thought about the ease and comfort with which she had stripped in front of me, and confirmed in my mind it was also related to the culture she came from. "Well it worked," I said. "They're like hungry tigers," said Kelani, unrolling her sleeping bag. "Did you see the way they looked at you?" "Yes. Except for the black haired one." "Wendy? Yes. She's trying to convince herself she's still in love with her husband." "And you think she's not?" "You can pick up things when women chatter." "What else did you pick up?" "Jennifer swings both ways," she said. "You got all that from twenty minutes of casual conversation?" "I got that from the way she put her hand on my knee," she said. "Oh." "That's why I got so lovey dovey with you." "The newlywed angle was brilliant," I said. "I should have thought of that." "Well, I really do feel like I hardly know you," she said, as she unrolled my bag and laid it out next to hers. "I guess you're right," I replied. She surveyed the bed. "This is going to be crowded." "It's designed for people who like sleeping together," I said. "While I was walking around I saw an open door in one of the rooms. It had bunk beds in it. I can sleep on the floor." There was a knock at the door. I went to open it. Blondie was there. "Is Kelani here?" she asked. "Come on in," I said. Her eyes took in the whole room and stopped on the sleeping bags. "Hey," said Kelani. She bent over and unzipped my bag, going clear around the end. "Did you bring any mascara?" Asked Blondie. "I seem to have forgotten mine." Kelani unzipped her bag and then pulled one edge of mine to meet one edge of hers. She engaged the zipper and started zipping the bags together, to make a double. "I never wear the stuff," said Kelani as she worked. "I'm not much for makeup." "If only I had your skin," said Jennifer. "And your figure." She giggled. Kelani flipped back one corner of the bag, making it ready for occupancy ... by two ... and then stood, turned and smiled. "Sorry." Blondie lost some of her giggly glow. "Thanks anyway. See you in the morning." She ducked out of the door and I closed it. "A woman worth watching," I said softly. "You noticed it's an act too," said Kelani. "She wants people to think she's a dumb blonde." "I bow to your wisdom," I said, looking at our bed. "She was sure interested in the bed." "That's why I zipped the bags together. I didn't want her to think we were sleeping apart, even in sleeping bags. She's smart enough she may have seen through my act too. I am new at this." "I don't think so," I said. "You were good. You even had me believing no other man will ever touch you." "Thank you," she said. I saw her dusky skin darken more and she looked away. "You don't have to sleep on the floor." There was invitation in her voice, and it zinged me. I looked at the beautiful and obviously willing young woman standing in front of me. I had dreamed of this circumstance for six months. I had masturbated, countless times, imagining this scene. But I also had 20+ years experience with knowing that office romances rarely work out well. And we were on an operation. "I can't sleep with you, Kelani," I said. She looked surprised, which surprised me. "I know," she said, suddenly. "That's not what I meant. I just meant that we're both professionals and this is just something that has to be done. What if she comes back? What are we going to do when we get to the campground? We have to look married. I get your reluctance, but just because we share some warmth doesn't mean I expect anything else has to happen." My head seemed to warp a little bit as I tried to put her statement into some frame of reference that made sense. I decided it had to be a cultural difference again. My gut told me to sleep on the floor, because I was going to embarrass myself. I knew I wouldn't lose control and try to force myself on her. She could kick my ass six ways from Tuesday. But I could offend her. She was obviously putting great stock and faith in my professionalism, and I wasn't at all sure my professionalism was up to the task. At the same time, we needed to get past this discomfort that persisted between us. And if we could share a sleeping bag without anything going horribly wrong, that might be what would bond us together as partners, and allow us both to be more at ease. "Okay," I said. ------- The next hurdle was one I hadn't thought of. I usually just slept in a pair of boxers. They were comfortable and light, and it just hadn't occurred to me that I would have to appear in front of her wearing boxers on this mission. I had assumed we'd sleep separately. I mean it was obvious we'd be sleeping separately. And I had brought nothing else to sleep in. I could add a T shirt, but that was about it. While I was worrying about this, Kelani took off her clothes and slipped into the bag naked. "You're not wearing pajamas," I pointed out. "No, I'm not," she said. "I didn't bring pajamas. I don't even own any pajamas." "Well I'm wearing pajamas!" I insisted. "Of course you are," she said. "I wouldn't have it any other way." "My boxers are my pajamas," I admitted. "In my village men don't wear underwear at all," she said. "It serves no purpose." "How about keeping your clothes clean?" I argued. "In my village men become proficient at wiping," she said. "This conversation is going downhill fast," I said. I decided that was good. I mean she obviously wasn't trying to seduce me. Not if she was talking about skid marks in men's underwear. "If you say so," she said. "Hurry. It's bloody cold in here." "Your accent is creeping back," I said. "It does that when I think of home," she said. "I try not to think of home all that much." "That's too bad," I said, trying to concentrate on anything except the fact that I was going to climb into a sleeping bag with a very naked Kelani. "Home should be a good memory." "Yeah," she said. "Too late for that." "Sorry," I said. "It's in the past." Someone knocked at the door again. "Yes?" I called out. Blondie opened the door and stepped in. She stared at me, standing there in only boxers, with my pants in my hands. "I'm so sorry!" she said, not averting her eyes at all. "I thought when you answered it meant I could come in." Her eyes went to the bag. My eyes followed and I saw Kelani's naked upper chest suddenly visible. Somehow all that long, black hair had formed into a pillow of sorts, supporting her head and surrounding her oval face. She looked gorgeous. "Never mind," said Blondie. "I was going to see if I could get some of your body lotion. I forgot that too, it seems. But never mind. I'm so sorry. I promise I won't bother you again tonight." With that she turned, left, and closed the door behind her. ------- "Well that was rather transparent," said Kelani. "She's definitely suspicious of us. The question is why?" Before I could frame a response she said "Would you please hurry up? It's freezing in here!" I turned off the light and she moved over as I got in. I zipped the edge of the bag up and laid back. Only then did I realize I had forgotten to put on a T shirt. I blamed it on Blondie's distraction. She had looked me over too while she was there. Kelani rolled against me, and her breast pressed to my arm. She felt hot. "You're supposed to be warm, not cold," she complained. "You're not supposed to be rubbing your naked body all over me," I shot back. "I'm trying to get warm," she argued. "You're already as hot as a furnace." "I'm only touching you a little bit. Don't freak out." I tried to think of something other than the fact that one of the most beautiful women I had ever known was pressing her naked body against me. "So what do you think Blondie's agenda is?" I asked. "Jennifer? I don't know. I haven't been around her enough." "Well, you've been playing it as though you're not interested," I said. "I'm not," she replied. "I didn't mean to imply you were," I said. "You just said she kind of made overtures, and since she's obviously interested in us for some reason, I thought you might want to investigate that a little." "I'm curious about it," she said, wiggling against me. "But I'm not sure it matters. It's the contractor people we need to worry about, not the guests." "You have a point," I said. The point I was thinking about was on the tip of one of her breasts. I could feel it poking into my arm. I felt my cock arrive at full erection. Worried that she might somehow brush against it and unmask my obvious lack of professional detachment, I said "No offense," and rolled so my back was to her. "None taken," she said as she scooted up against my back. It got quiet. I could feel her hot breath on my back. I wanted to jerk off, but of course that was impossible unless I got out of the warm bag and went to the bathroom. It was tempting, but not enough. I wasn't sleepy. I was horny, and I knew sleep would come with difficulty. So I went over all the things in my mind we were going to be looking for when we got up on the mountain. I tried thinking up ways to get into the storage rooms, to see what was there and take some kind of inventory. I had decided that photographing the storage rooms was the only way to get good results, when I heard her snore lightly behind me. She wasn't having any trouble sleeping. Again I wondered about her culture, and how she was raised. Obviously she was comfortable in a situation like this, and able to do this without making it into a sexual thing. I'm pretty sure I didn't get to sleep for another hour or two. I woke at one point, and her arm was draped over me, her hand lying on the bag beside my chest. It was a casual kind of touch, something one might do in one's sleep. But it sure felt good. It was a rough night. ------- In the morning I woke early and just got up. I went to the john and got rid of both the piss hardon I had and the semen that was making my balls feel swollen. When I came out, she was up and still nude, waiting for the bathroom. She brushed by me without a word and closed the door. I got dressed and, probably because I'm stubborn and was trying like hell to make this into a casual situation, I stayed there and waited for her. She came out, combing out her hair with her fingers. Her nipples were stiff, protruding from her smooth, round breasts. I knew it was the chill of the morning - I could see goose bumps on her belly - so I picked up her pack from the floor and sat it on the bed next to me. She dug into it and started getting dressed. This morning she had skin tight designer jeans and a western, long sleeved shirt in a checkered pattern. Her oriental face looked odd above the western shirt, but I was distracted by the fact that she hadn't put on a bra when she put on the shirt. Her hands went to her head and I watched, amazed, as within what seemed like only a few seconds she had braided her hair into what looked like a complex French braid. She brought the loose end up and bit it with her mouth while she searched her bag for a scrunchie. Then she stood up and looked at me, sitting there in my boxers, shivering. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Are you okay?" "Yes," I said. "I just never saw anybody do that. That was amazing." "It's just hair," she said. "Grow yours long enough and I'll show you how to do it." "Right," I said. "Me, with a pony tail." I laughed. "You want me to wait for you?" she asked. Obviously the fact that I had waited on her had sailed right past her. It was one more indication that we hadn't created the partner bond yet. "No. Go ahead. I'll be out in a bit." When she left I beat off again. That's how bad I had it for her. Then I got dressed, got together all our gear, and went to find breakfast ... and my wife. ------- Breakfast was a continental style affair with cereal, microwaved breakfast burritos, fruit, pastries and a number of beverages to choose from. The assembled group consisted of the three couples we'd already met, and five more pairs. Only two couples had brought children. We had about half an hour to eat before a man who identified himself as Chuck showed up and whipped us into shape for the ride up to the campground. Chuck was one of those guys that all other guys hate. He was in superb physical shape, rugged looking and handsome to a fault. He had a smile a dentist would love to claim, and wavy blond hair. All the women perked up when he came into the room, and all the men got edgy. Kelani leaned over and whispered "If you're wondering what to get me for Christmas ... I'll take him." I wasn't amused. Chuck basically herded us out behind the lodge, where we found three summer interns hostling horses. They helped us load the pack horses, and choose mounts for ourselves, at which point I realized nine couples was a hell of a lot of people to take care of. Kelani had never ridden, and when Chuck offered to show her the basic ropes she jumped at it. I'm pretty sure she was fucking with me. She was a quick study on everything I'd ever seen her do. Then we were off. It was a typical trail ride, at first. The horses moved slowly. Many of them wanted to stop and crop at grass. Chuck rode up and down the line instructing people not to let them do that, and to "be in command" of the horses. I noticed that in all cases except one, the man was leading the pack horse with the couple's gear on it. The exception was Jennifer, who was neither giggling nor helpless this morning. I also noticed she had on mascara. We had rest breaks every hour. Chuck said they were for the horses to rest. We had been climbing ever since leaving the lodge, so the horses probably did need rest often, but none of the riders were used to being in the saddle for long stretches, and I think the rest stops were as much for us as our mounts. At the first stop Kelani struggled down from the gray mare she was riding. It was the shortest horse in the group, but it was still a long way to the ground for Kelani, who stood proud at five foot six. Still, she was animated as she tied the horse to a bush, per Chuck's instructions, and came toward me. I wasn't prepared for her to crush me in a hug. I was even less prepared for her to reach up and kiss me. It was a nice kiss, and I instinctively kissed her back. "Thank you for bringing me on this trip, honey. I love you," she sighed when the kiss broke and she leaned back. I saw Jennifer and Wendy both looking at us. Two of the other couples were also looking our way. At the third stop I sat down and leaned against a tree. Kelani came and sat down in front of me, between my legs. She leaned back and picked up my hands, pulling them around her and laying them on her stomach. She leaned her head back on my shoulder and whispered "This really is nice. We have mountains in New Zealand, but nothing like this." I didn't even realize what I was doing until I felt her braless breasts in my hands as I squeezed them. I jerked them away quickly as she stiffened. Then she relaxed again. She rolled her head to look up at my face. "You're good at this too," she said. "That's exactly what a horny old man would do to his hottie trophy wife." "Yeah," I said. I could feel blood rushing to my face. "Sorry for tensing up. I'll try to be better at this." "It's all right," I said. "If anybody saw it, they'll just assume you're modest in public." Then it was time to get up and get on the horses again. ------- Forty-five minutes later we rode into the camp, which consisted of fourteen cabins arranged in a big circle, around a hard packed stretch of ground that was laid out with cloth markers that designated it as a helipad. A multipurpose building sat at the bottom of the circle, perched on the edge of a drop-off. It was the chow hall at meal times, the dance hall in the evenings, a place to gather for games or just to talk during the day, and a storm shelter if needed. The bathrooms and showers for the entire camp were in that building. There was a long covered porch on the backside that provided a magnificent view of the valley below and the next mountain in the range beyond that. The hot tub was on that porch. The stables for the horses were along the trail leading into the camp. The cabins were very much like the rooms at the lodge, down the mountain. They were built of logs, with roughly finished interiors. They had electricity, but no running water. A single room held more of the plywood beds, but these had vinyl-covered foam mattresses on them. There were also two bunk beds in the cabin we were assigned. There were two comfortable reading chairs, and a couple of straight backed chairs made of branches, that were arranged at a small table. Each cabin had a small screened in porch on the front, with two Adirondack chairs to relax in. When we first arrived we were met by a woman named Janice, who Chuck kissed hello, and who assigned us cabins while we were still mounted. She told us to ride to our cabins, unload our pack horses, and then take all the stock to the stables, where we would be shown how to care for them. It took us about an hour and a half before couples started trickling back to the chow hall, where Janice had said a meal would be waiting. Lunch turned out to be sandwiches, soup, chips and a choice of sodas or juice. While we ate, Chuck pointed out various things in the building. There was a wall with big trail maps, both for hiking and riding. There was a closet full of games and sporting equipment. He explained how to use the toilets, which were chemical toilets. He explained that showers were on a timer, to conserve water, which was piped up the mountain at significant expense and was not to be wasted. One of the women I hadn't met yet asked how long the shower timers were. When Chuck said "Three minutes" there were some complaints. He said "Get wet. When the shower stops, soap up and take care of business. Then rinse off. That way the shower only runs six minutes, and you get squeaky clean. We're roughing it here, folks." Then we were released to explore, or nap, or whatever we wanted to do. Evening chow would be at five. Anyone who didn't think they'd be there was requested to let the cook know. The campers drifted off, most toward their cabins. Kelani took my hand and pulled me toward ours. "This doesn't look like a high cost operation so far," she said, walking slowly by my side. "We are in agreement about that," I said. ------- The helicopter arrived around two. We knew it was coming long before we heard it, thanks to a phone call from the agent pulling surveillance at the depot where the chopper picked up its load. It was a Bell, midsize, capable of carrying around 6,000 pounds of cargo. It had fittings for carrying a water sling. It could be used for fighting forest fires, carrying cargo or, if the seats were re-installed, could carry some passengers. I suspected the owner's bread and butter were short term government contracts. When it settled onto the dusty pad, the efficiency with which the bird was unloaded bespoke frequency and familiarity on the part of the campground staff that flowed in and received and stacked boxes, crates and plastic tubs full of various things. Empty boxes and plastic tubs went back on the airplane and then everyone backed away while the pilot powered up and lifted off again. The rotors had never stopped, and the entire unloading operation took perhaps ten minutes. The only problem was that, through the 300 mm lens of my camera, I could clearly see that only half of the boxes, crates and plastic tubs on board were unloaded. The rest stayed there as the bird flew away to the south. I got plenty of pictures. "Let's go be good neighbors," I said to Kelani, who had been watching through binoculars and was now reporting on her phone that the helicopter was headed south. It would be tracked on radar and a grid coordinate determined for where it next landed. We went down to the pad, where employees were picking up cargo and carrying it toward the kitchen end of the multipurpose building. I picked up a box and got in line. "You don't have to do that," said a young man, who had a patch sewn onto his brown shirt that said "Matt." "I'm not above working for my supper," I said. "And besides, I won't be able to get to the gym all week." Matt laughed. "You go hiking at all around here and you'll get plenty of exercise." "Good," I said. They let me help, but would hear nothing of letting Kelani lift anything. She just stood around and watched and smiled. She was the perfect distraction for the four young men and one young woman who all wore the same dark brown shorts and light brown shirts that signified they were staff. I noted the layout of the storage room, and the kind and quantity of security. The locks were mid-range, nothing special, and I was pretty sure I could pick them if needed. Since all this was allegedly Government supplies, no search warrant would be required. Kelani let me make two trips and then pulled me away, complaining she was bored. "Did you notice that neither Chuck nor Janice came out to supervise?" she asked. "I did. The kids all acted like everything was both normal and routine." "So how do they know what got here?" "I saw the girl sign something on a clipboard the pilot gave her. I got a picture of her doing it," I said. "Did he give her a copy?" "That, I can't tell you," I said. "I was too busy taking more shots of the inside of the chopper." "So how do we determine if what stayed on the helicopter was supposed to come off?" "I have pictures of everything that came off. One of the kids can look at that and testify to what's in each box, based on experience. Claims are turned in for payment, and those are itemized, so we should have no trouble determining whether or not what came off is everything being claimed." "But we have to have one of the staff help us do that," she said. "When the time comes, they'll beg to help us," I said. "They're kids, teenagers. This is a summer job for them. None of them will want to face trial to protect Chuck and Janice. Besides that, the owner of the chopper is going to have to be able to explain why he picked up more than he dropped off, and where it went. It wouldn't surprise me if Chuck and Janice try to blame all the losses on him anyway, saying he ripped them off." "No jury would buy that," she said. "Not with us testifying to what we just saw," I agreed. "Okay, so what now?" "Now we go play our role and see some sights and take some pictures." "I love my job," she said, grinning. ------- Chapter 4 We picked a trail at random and hiked up it for maybe half a mile. It was steep going in places, but both of us were in good shape. We stopped at a huge boulder that jutted out into empty space. Kelani climbed out onto it and tried to see over the edge, but the radius of the curve was too steep. "I wish I had a rope," she called back to me. "We can probably check one out at the camp," I yelled back. She came back toward me and, on impulse, I snapped a picture of her on the smooth curve of the rock. She dimpled and smiled. "You'd let me climb down over the curve?" she asked, jumping off onto the dust beside me. "You're a big girl," I said. "I'm not your father." "Well that's for sure," she said. We heard voices coming our way and I pulled her around so that her back was to my front. I put my arms around her, with my hands flat on her stomach. When two hikers appeared below us, it looked like we were just standing there, looking out over the beautiful vista. I glanced over my shoulder. It was Blondie and her husband. "Guess who can't seem to stay away from us?" I whispered. "You're kidding," she said. She turned suddenly in my arms and put her arms around my neck. She pulled my head down, her lips reaching for mine. It was a very nice kiss, and somehow my hands ended up on her butt, pulling her against me as she extended the kiss much, much longer than was necessary. When the kiss finally broke, Blondie and her husband were standing right beside us, looking on with obvious interest. "Hi," said the man. "I'm John Keystone. You've met Jennifer already." He sounded confident. "I'll get right to the point," he said. "Jennifer and I are swingers. We don't do it all the time, but when we get away from our normal territory, and meet a couple we're interested in, we like to spice things up a bit. And we're interested in you. I know this is a bit bold, but we've only got a week, so there's not really time to ease up to it, if you know what I mean." He stopped and they looked at us. "No thank you," said Kelani, her voice frosty. "Oh, come on, loosen up," said Jennifer. "You said you were from the south pacific. Everybody knows how casual you people are about sex. And I'm sure Bob here has been around the block many times before he met you. We just want to have a little fun." "Are you deaf?" asked Kelani. "I speak fluent English, and I said no thank you. You know what I like to do for fun, Jennifer? I like to kick box. That's what I do to mix things up a little. And if you lay one finger on my man, Jennifer, I'll kick you so hard your puke huruhuru ... short and curlies ... will look like a mustache." She left no question as to what she meant by pointing at Jennifer's crotch. Jennifer backed off, her hands up. "Now, now. No need to get testy about it. We just thought you two looked like you might like to expand your horizons a little bit. No harm done. You can't blame us for trying. You're both gorgeous." "Thanks," I said, reaching for Kelani's elbow. "We'll take it as a compliment. But we're not interested." "All righty then," said John, who didn't seem at all disturbed that we had reacted the way we had. "If you change your mind, you know where our cabin is." They turned and walked back down the trail. "Can you believe that?" gasped Kelani. "It takes all kinds," I said. "Didn't that piss you off?" she asked. "Why should it? They think we're gorgeous." "Oh yeah. I forgot," she said. "Forgot what?" "Nothing." She seemed to blush a little. "That kiss kind of took me by surprise." "Um ... you're the one who kissed me," I said. "Well yes. I guess I just didn't expect you to be as good at it as you are." "What the hell does that mean?" I asked. "Nothing." She backed away from me. "I'm suddenly in the mood to get a workout. Race you back down?" "That would be insanity," I said. "Chicken?" She grinned. She took off. I took my time. ------- I found out later that she passed John and Jennifer on the way down, and that she stopped long enough to castigate them with tongue in cheek for "getting me going" so much that I wanted to have sex with her right there in the open. Then she said "And wouldn't you know it? I went off and left my diaphragm in the cabin!" Then she took off again at breakneck speed and left them, no doubt staring at her as she ran and jumped down the precipitous slope. She was playing horseshoes when I got down. It was obvious she'd never played. One of the "nice young men" who worked there was showing her how to throw the shoes. He was standing behind her with his left hand on her waist while he moved her right hand backwards and forwards, trying to explain that he wanted the horse shoe to make one horizontal circle on its way to the pin, forty feet away. I watched as he stood aside - reluctantly, I thought - and watched her swing her arm back and then forward again, to launch the horse shoe, spinning end over end high into the air. It landed with a plop about five feet short of the pin. He moved in to "help" her again and I approached. "I'll take it from here, sport," I said. He looked at me, guilt all over his face. I said "Thanks," and smiled. He ducked his head, mumbled "No problem," and hurried off. "This is a stupid game," she said, launching another horse shoe, again end over end. It landed with the ends of the shoe straddling the stake. "That's three points," I said. "Really?" She got excited. "Just for doing that? Maybe it's not so bad after all." "The trick is doing that every time," I said. "How long until dinner?" she asked. "I'm starving." ------- She had to wait another hour and a half for dinner, which we did in our cabin after she pulled me toward it urgently, in case Blondie and John were watching. The wait was worth it, though, even if supper was served buffet style. The first night was steak, baked potato with a variety of toppings, fresh tossed salad, steamed asparagus, with the choice of five kinds of pie for dessert. The cook was a huge black woman who came out of the kitchen to make sure everybody was happy with their meal. She announced that her name was Eartha Toomey, and that if anybody wasn't happy, she wanted to know about it. She was formidable looking enough that I doubt she got many complaints. At the same time she was personable as she chatted with this or that diner before returning to her kitchen. Janice ate with us, and announced that there would be dancing that night, for those interested. She reminded us that the hot tub was open, and that it was possible that black bears were in the area, and to take precautions accordingly if we were going to be outside the camp during darkness. About half the couples drifted away. I noticed that Jennifer and John had apparently made friends with one of the couples I didn't know. They were heading off toward the Keystone cabin. I was surprised that their approach had actually worked. Then again, if you used that approach with someone who was like-minded, then it would work very well. Cut through the red tape and get on with getting down to business. Still, it seemed odd that they would be so open about it with strangers. I suddenly wondered if this camp had some sort of reputation that we didn't know about. If it turned out that swappers made this a regular on their list of places to visit, I was going to laugh my ass off. "The kids" as I called them, were setting up for the dance. All that meant, really was folding the tables up and moving them along one wall. The chairs were stacked around the walls. A karaoke machine was wheeled out and set up. One of the girls stayed with the machine to work it, and the other kids drifted out to go do whatever the young staff did during the evenings. I walked over to the karaoke machine. The girl's name tag said "Melanie." "What do you have on that thing, Melanie?" I asked. "Pretty much anything you want," she said. "What's your pleasure?" Kelani joined me. "Do you have anything by the Moody Blues?" she asked. Both Melanie and I stared at her. "Who?" asked Melanie. "Where'd you hear about them?" I asked. She glanced at me. "One of my ... um ... boyfriends ... before I met you." "How about Queen?" she asked Melanie. "Them, we got," said Melanie and she pushed buttons. We Are The Champions began issuing from the box. Kelani pulled me away from the machine a few steps and into a standard high school, rub-your-bodies-against-each-other clinch. "Where'd you learn how to dance?" I asked, putting my hands on her lower back. Her cheek was lying just below my chin. "The same boyfriend," she said. "You going to tell me about him?" I asked. "Now? Here?" She looked up at me. "That's probably not a good idea." "Why not?" I asked. "Because I miss him," she said. "And thinking about him makes me ... emotional." "Well, we wouldn't want that," I said. "Are you making fun of me?" she asked. "No ma'am," I said. "You do not have to kick my ass." "You don't make things any easier," she said. "Why's that?" "Because you remind me of him," she said. "You've reminded me of him ever since the first time I saw you." "So he was ... what's the right term these days? ... mature?" "So I like men with a little mileage on them," she said. "That's not surprising. It's common in Maori culture. Elders are revered and respected. Older men are held in high regard because they have survived. Many marriages are of older men to younger women." "Makes sense," I said. "Here in America, a hundred years ago, there was a group called the Oneida Community. They liked to match young women with older men and young men with older women." The music stopped. We were still the only ones dancing, and we had been dancing slow, so Melanie put on another slow number. Kelani started moving us again. "We talked about that in my sociology classes in college. The males are at their sexual peak at the same time the women are," she said. "I guess that's the theory," I said. "Sometime, maybe I'll show you Maori dancing," she said. "What's it like?" I asked. "Hula?" "It has similarities," she said. "Hula tells a story. Maori dancing has a different purpose." I was about to ask what the purpose was when two couples came into the room. One was not-so-Little Orphan Annie and her husband, whose name I couldn't remember, and another of the couples I hadn't been introduced to yet. That problem went away as Annie brought them over to us. "This is Kelani and Bob," she said to the couple with her. "Kelani is from New Zealand and Bob does something for the government." She smiled at us. "And this is Rhonda and Ted Breckenridge. Ted owns a Radio Shack store." Hands were shaken all around. Annie's husband produced a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of sloe gin, which Annie snatched from his hand. Melanie abandoned the karaoke machine long enough to point out a cart with cans of soda on it, and a pan of ice. There was also a selection of Hostess treats. I noticed everything was name brand, and all prime brands. No cost cutting was going on in the edibles arena. Tom, as Annie's husband turned out to be, mixed drinks for everyone. The ladies all got sloe gin mixed with Sprite, while the men got bourbon and Coke. Rhonda and Ted were probably in their thirties, and were looking for more upbeat music. Melanie had it, and soon rock and roll was blasting from the speakers. Kelani wanted to dance but I shook my head. I look like a robot low on oil, and with severe joint disturbances when I try to dance fast. Annie pulled Kelani away from us men and, like they were at a high school dance, the women started gyrating. It was interesting. It had been a long time since I watched two women dancing. It was fun. Kelani was her normal beautiful self. Annie was taller and much bustier. I decided Annie wasn't wearing a bra either, based on the shimmy under her shirt. Kelani's breasts also moved, but not as much. Tom leaned in. "So what do you do for the government?" "Contractor," I yelled back. "I have some defense contracts." "Really? What kind?" We had decided that, since Kelani and I both knew all about trash bags now, that's what I'd say I did. I told Tom about it, and how many bags we produced every year, and what mil thickness they were. Pretty soon his eyes glazed over, just as we thought would happen. I stopped talking. He leaned in again. "My wife thinks you're hot. You got me laid last night." My errant thought about this being a haven for swapping couples, graduated into a theory at that point. "Happy to be of service," I said, smiling. "I got laid too." "I bet you did," said Tom, his eyes on Kelani. On a hunch I just asked. "Are you guys into swapping?" He looked at me. I could tell he was already on a buzz from the whisky. "Hell yes," he said. "And you already know Jennifer and what's his name?" "John," he said. "Yeah, we've known each other for a few years. Do you know them? Have they been holding out on us?" "No. They propositioned us up on a trail this afternoon. We're not into that kind of thing. Is that why people come here or something?" "Well, not here, exactly. I mean sometimes here. There is kind of an informal group of us. This is the second time for us here. But we kind of keep in touch, and if somebody has an idea of where we can all meet, then the ones who can make their vacations work or whatever get together. This is just one of the places." "I see," I said. "I didn't mean to pry. It just sounded like you might be leading up to offering to switch." He had the decency to at least look abashed. "Well, your wife is really a knockout, and we're always looking for new members." "I can imagine," I said. I wondered briefly what that life must be like. Casual, meaningless sex, with multiple partners, who might be drunk at the time. What fun. The only thing better might be getting your ass kicked and then handcuffed with your own cuffs. I went to Kelani and held my hand out to her. She took my hand and tried to get me to dance. I leaned in and spoke in her ear. "Tom and Annie here are also swappers." She stopped and stared from me to Annie, who was still dancing and grinning happily. "What the fuck?" she asked. I jerked my head toward the door, and she followed me. "Some of these people - hell maybe all of them, for all I know - all belong to a kind of informal club. They decide where to get together and then party hard. We happened to land at one of their get togethers." "And now they all want to have sex with us," she said. "That's about it." "So what do we do now?" she asked. "It doesn't affect our mission. We just say no." "Good," she said. "You're not mine, but if you were, I wouldn't want to share you." ------- It was dark outside. I still had her hand, and for whatever reason I kept it as we walked slowly toward our cabin. I'd like to say it was all for show, but I'd be lying. "This could work in our favor," I said. "They'll all be busy at the orgy and that will give us plenty of time to get into the storeroom and document what's there." "Okay," she said. "Sounds good to me." We went into the cabin and I made a call to Joe, to give him an update. He laughed when he found out about the swapper's convention, and made a crack about how much I could probably get in trade for Kelani. Then he told me not to tell her what he'd said. I hadn't intended to anyway. Kelani wanted to know what time we'd go sneaking around, and I said we should probably wait until after midnight. She wanted to know what we were going to do until then. I suggested napping. She called me an old man, but we ended up on the bed under the sleeping bag, in the dark, fully dressed. It wasn't nearly as interesting, but I felt a lot safer. I set the alarm on my watch, and we both eventually fell asleep. ------- The probe went beautifully. The storage room wasn't even locked. Kelani counted items while I photographed things. She went outside for the first shot, to see if the flash leaked. It didn't and after that we didn't worry about anyone seeing anything. The inventory took three hours, but we knew it would be worth it. By the time we got back to the cabin we were both tired. "I'm skipping breakfast in the morning," she said in the dark. We had decided not to turn any lights on upon our return, in case anybody was up for whatever reason. "I'll see if I can get you a plate or something," I said. "You're a good boss. How'd you do last night?" she asked. "About what?" "It didn't weird you out to sleep with me?" "Weird isn't the word I'd use," I said. "Okay, that's good, because I'm sure I'd have frozen if I had to sleep in a bag alone." "I doubt it," I said. "Well, if you have no objection, I'd just as soon keep sharing the bag." "I guess I can live with that," I sighed, thinking about whether I should go beat off before I got in bed, or just wait until morning. "Okay then, hurry up. It's cold." I admit it. This time I left the T shirt off on purpose. Then I slid into a cold bag, with a beautiful naked woman. This time, her skin felt like ice. ------- I had only been in bed a few seconds before disaster struck. Well, perhaps disaster is the wrong word, considering how things turned out. But it started out as disaster. "Oooooo, you're so warm!" she moaned as she wiggled up against me. I was on my back, preparing to turn on my side again, as soon as I had the bag fully zipped up. In her exuberance about soaking in my warmth, she threw a leg over mine, and brought her knee up, rubbing her leg against mine. "I'm sorry, but you're so warm!" she moaned. Then her knee ran into my erection which, unknown to me, had escaped through the fly of my boxers. The inside of her knee slid over the cloth of my boxers, and onto the bottom of my cock. The temperature difference between cloth and cock was apparently noticeable. "What's that?" she asked, as her knee stopped, pressing my prick against my belly. Maybe it was instinct, or curiosity, or just an impulse to use her hand to gain information. For whatever reason her hand reached, her knee lifted, and the next thing I knew she was gripping my very erect penis. Her hand squeezed. It moved fractionally up and then back down. Her breathing stopped. Then I heard her intake of breath. "Is that your ngarengare?" she asked, her voice very high. I didn't have to ask for a translation. "Um ... I'm sorry," I said. "It's not supposed to be outside my shorts." "But what's it doing hard?" she gasped. I was speechless. She had said she'd had boyfriends. There was no way this was the first hard penis she'd ever had in her hand. "I don't understand!" she said. "Oh come on!" I snapped. "Don't tell me you don't know how you affect men." Her hand squeezed again, and then suddenly let go and vanished. "But you're gay!" she blurted. Her hand was just as suddenly back, fumbling for and then grasping my manhood again. She sounded close to panic. "Aren't you?" ------- I've been around a while, and around the block plenty of times. I've survived military combat, street combat, the slings and arrows of love gone bad, worthless bosses and supervisors who wasted good air just by breathing it. In thirty years of driving I've avoided both tickets and accidents. And all of this I credit to being able to adapt, improvise and overcome. I'm not easily surprised. Kelani astonished me. I was so discombobulated by her casual announcement that she knew I was gay ... and by the firm assurance in her voice that she knew I was gay ... that my whole body flexed, bounced up off the bottom of the bag, and I completed a ninety degree twist, landing to face her. Her hand gripped my cock the entire time and an imaginary observer might have thought she pulled on it, turning me in the bag. At my violent movement, though, she let go again. "Why on God's green earth would you think I was gay?" I gasped. "Bob, it's all right!" she said, urgency in her voice. "There is no shame in being gay." "I'm not gay!" I said, much too loudly. "Am I not supposed to talk about it?" she asked. "I thought it was okay as long as you weren't in the military." I felt like I was in some horrible nightmare. It was too surreal to be actually happening. One second I was thinking about turning away from her so she wouldn't know I was on fire for her, and the next minute she was telling me I was gay and she was fine with that. I took a breath. "Why did you say that? Did Joe put you up to it? Randy? Because this isn't funny at all!" She was very quiet suddenly. I could feel her breath on my face. She was breathing harder than usual. "You're not gay?" Her voice sounded suddenly like she was about ten years old. "Kelani," I said patiently. "I am not gay. I was engaged, and it fell through because I was gone all the time, not because I was gay. Did somebody actually tell you I was?" "No. But every other guy in the office is always hitting on me, or making comments. You know how guys are. But you've never even looked at me. I just thought they put me with the gay guy so there wouldn't be any problems until they figured out if I can hack it or not." I blinked. I swear I actually thought what I said next was true. "Then you're not very observant. You need to pay a hell of a lot more attention to detail, or you won't hack it." "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, sounding upset. "I pay attention to detail. You haven't had to make a lot of corrections to my reports. I do pretty good at interviews too, if I do say so myself. That's because I studied body language, and I use that knowledge!" "If you paid attention, you'd notice that every day when you come in I stay seated for at least ten minutes. That's because if I stood up you'd see the erection you give me every day just by walking into the office!" "Don't yell at me, Bob!" she said. "I wasn't watching you because every time I look at you I think of a man I knew in college. He taught me many things, among them what love feels like. But it wasn't all happy. The first time I saw you, I thought of him. You were handsome. Then you behaved like a wise man ... a survivor. I was worried that I would make a fool of myself, and deciding you were gay actually helped, because that let me banish thoughts of you as a man whom I might wish to be with ... like this." I lay there, thinking about how she had wanted me, just like I had wanted her. It was something too near dreams coming true to just take in easily. "Shit," she whispered. "I feel so stupid!" "Don't," I said. "I did everything I could think of to hide what I was feeling." "And last night," she groaned. "I was afraid you'd smell how excited I was, even though I knew nothing would come from it. I mean here I was in bed with a warm, exciting man whom I respect and like. And I was feeling sorry for myself because I knew nothing would happen, and now I can't even imagine what it must have been like for you!" I wasn't going to tell her what it had been like. But she wasn't finished. "And the way I paraded around naked in front of you, just assuming it wouldn't affect you because I wanted to act like we were sisters!" "I had dreamed of seeing you like that," I said. "I should have stopped you, but I was too weak." "Weak?" She snorted. "You're the strongest man I've ever met, Bob. You had me naked in this bag last night. You could have done anything you wanted with me." "Based on what you said to Blondie today, you'd have kicked my ass so far into next Tuesday my dick would have looked like I was smoking a cigar." She laughed, which made me feel better for some reason. "I don't think you get it at all," she said softly. "While I was glad I didn't have to play any games with you, that doesn't mean I didn't dream about what it might be like if you weren't gay. I like you, Bob. I like you a lot." "Great," I sighed. "I've been trying to avoid an office romance, and you want one." "Would that be so bad?" "They usually are," I said. "The powers that be frown on them. If we got involved, the first thing Joe would do was transfer one of us out of the unit." "Well that's not fair," she said. "Nobody said romance is fair," I replied. "So ... what now?" I lay there in the dark, a willing woman only inches away from me ... a woman I had wanted from the moment I set eyes on her. I knew what I wanted. I was pretty sure I knew what she wanted too. But the life of a cop is one of discipline. Discipline is called for all the time, whether it's refraining from acting as the judge, jury and executioner when you know someone is dirty, to resisting the temptation to use your power to enrich yourself, whether in large or small ways. Cops who make it ... and make a difference ... are steeped in discipline, because it's discipline that keeps you alive and employed when you're a cop. "I cannot believe I'm going to say this," I said, "but it's very late. We're both tired. We have to be able to function tomorrow, because the mission comes first. Things are happening very fast and we need time to think and talk. So I think we should go to sleep and pick this up later." "Really." Her voice sounded interested, of all things. "Really," I said. "I think we'll both be a lot happier if we take some time before we make any decisions to do things that can't be undone." "But we keep sleeping together ... like this," she said. It wasn't a question. It was a point of negotiation. I wasn't going to get up at four in the morning and freeze my ass off unzipping and re-zipping bags. "For tonight, okay," I said. "We may decide not to tomorrow night. Let's leave that open." "Okay. And if I roll against you, tonight, it's not the end of the world," she said. "Do you think that might happen?" I asked. "Yes. I'm sure of it." "Wait one," I said. I rolled over and put my back to her. "Okay," I said. She scooted over. Her arm went over me and she tried to weld her hot body to mine. She kissed the middle of my back. "Mmmmm. Thank you." I sighed. My cock was as hard as stone. I reached down and pulled my boxers out to get it covered again. "You're welcome," I said softly. "I think." And, believe it or not, we both went to sleep. ------- Chapter 5 It was almost ten when she woke, which woke me. She was on the inside, which meant to get out she had to crawl over me. That might have been delightful, except that she needed to pee and it was chilly. She scampered to the bathroom and, when she came out, she didn't "parade" around naked. She went to her pack and got on some clothes so she could get warm. I realized she was going to avoid the issue when she said "I'm going to the kitchen to see if they have anything for us, since we missed breakfast." "Be there in a jiffy," I said. Ten minutes later I was walking toward the chow hall. Eartha was more than happy to cook us both eggs. She crumbed up left over bacon and threw that in, adding in some cheese, and produced two omelets that were delicious. "So what we doing today?" asked Kelani, around a mouthful of omelet. "Fishing? Horseback riding?" I suggested. "Do you know how to fish?" She snorted. "I lived a thirty minute run from the ocean. Fish was a staple in our diet." "How did you catch them?" "If the water was nice we swam and speared them. Sometimes we used nets. It depended on the season and what fish were around." "Have you ever fished American style?" ------- An hour later we were standing at the edge of a small mountain lake that basically interrupted a stream on its way down the mountain. We were using lures, and I had explained the techniques of trying to make the lure appear alive to the prey. She lasted about half an hour, casting and reeling in, only to cast again. "Is this supposed to be fun?" she asked. "Some people live to do this." "Boring people, right?" she suggested. "The fish taste good," I said. "Yes, but it would take us all day to catch enough just to feed one family, much less the whole camp." "I don't intend to try to feed the whole camp." Just then she got a bite. The experience of pulling in a fighting fish energized her for another half hour, but when we trudged back up the trail for lunch all we had was the one she'd caught. It was almost one, so when we turned that one in to the kitchen staff, they said said they'd cook it up for her for supper. It had warmed up considerably and after lunch she wanted to go for a walk. She picked a trail that had a sign that said "scenic overlook" and set a pace that I was hard put to keep up with, even though I had at least six or seven inches on her in terms of height. The trail led to a place where there was a sheer cliff face rising to the right of the trail, and where an observation deck had been built jutting out into space on the left. The deck wasn't large, maybe ten by ten, but there was a sturdy railing around it. Below us was a drop of probably a hundred feet, at the bottom of which was the stream that fed the lake we had fished at that morning. Out in front of us were the Rocky Mountains. There were benches along the railing and she sat down on one, patting the seat beside her. "You've been in this business for twenty some odd years?" she asked. "Something like that, if you include the militatry." "Did you ever work with female partners before?" "Yes." "And how many of them did you end up taking to bed?" She was very direct, was my little Kelani. "Two," I said. "Out of how many?" I coughed. "Um ... two." She looked at me again, longer this time. "I see," she said. "In both cases the women got attached to me. I mean I didn't go after them. Things just got complicated. When you work as closely together as we do, emotion seems to creep in." "I can understand how that could happen," she said. "This is serious, Kelani," I said. "Neither of those relationships worked out." "Why not?" "It's a mixture of things. Some of it is thinking about each other instead of the job. If the job happens to be dangerous, that can be fatal. And then there's the whole issue of worrying about the other one getting hurt. Then it's inevitable that sooner or later one of you wants to cut a corner for some reason, and that puts the other one on the spot, because partners are supposed to keep each other honest. Plus you're usually trying to keep it a secret, because you don't want the boss to find out and transfer one of you, and that makes things tense. You can't show how you feel in public, and you feel like you're sneaking around. It just doesn't work." "So what happened to them?" she asked. "One moved to the San Francisco office. The other accepted a position with the FBI." "And you didn't go with either of them?" "Nope. I like my job." I looked at her. "My turn." "Your turn for what?" "Tell me about this guy in college." She was quiet for a while. "I'll tell you, but not now. Tonight." "After supper?" "In bed." "Do you really think sleeping together like this is a good idea?" "It worked fine last night," she said. "I'm not sure my control will be so good when I'm not exhausted," I said. "I'm not worried," she said. "What about your other boyfriends?" I asked. "I'll tell you all that tonight," she said. "Why not now?" "Because it is light, and you can see me, and I don't want you to be able to see me when I speak of these things." I sensed the tension in her. It made me curious. She was very businesslike when she needed to be, but she was also carefree and smiling at times. I had never sensed any darkness in her past, but it sounded like there was something there. "Fair enough," I said. "What are the next steps in this investigation?" she asked. I was surprised that she wanted to change the subject, but I went with it. In the best of all worlds, depending on how close we could get to pinpointing the destination of the helicopter after it left the camp, there would be some kind of surveillance of future flights, to see if there were any patterns, and to see if we could document where the supplies left on the chopper were unloaded. That person was in theory, receiving stolen goods, because the camp was claiming the cost of everything in their claims for reimbursement. Eventually there would be a raid and evidence would be seized. After that would be a visit to the wholesaler where the food and supplies were issued, and going through their books. Then there would be a visit to the Helicopter company, and the questions for them. Previous patrons of the camp would be interviewed and asked how many people were in their camp. All that information would be compared with what the contractor had reported and charged the government for. Everything would be bundled for the AUSA to look at. Maybe there would be a Grand Jury, or perhaps he would just seek indictments based on the raw evidence. By the time we had roughed out the possibilities and options, and what each of those might lead to, it was time to head back for evening chow. Kelani was served her fish, along with a trip to the buffet, which was seafood that night, including lobster and King Crab legs. We sat at a table with another couple we hadn't met, named Judy and Kurt Phillips, and their son Kevin, who looked to be about eleven. She was a realtor and he sold trailers. I found out that night how many different kinds of trailers there are in the world. They were nice people, though, and didn't invite us to swap partners, so we ended up playing cards with them after dinner while Kevin watched a movie from the considerable selection of DVDs the camp had in a rack on the wall. Kurt suggested a men-against-women spades game. Kelani had learned to play in college, and Judy was very experienced. It had been years since I played. The women thrashed us in the first game, going over five hundred while Kurt and I only had 247 points. They beat us in the second game too, but only by forty-five points. When that game was over Judy stood up. "I'd stay and play again, but two out of three means I own my husband for the rest of the night, and I have plans for him, so we're leaving now. We must do this again. Kelani, I'll partner with you any day of the week." Kelani beamed and we watched them walk away. She turned to look at me. "Interesting tradition they have," she said. "Don't even try it," I said. "I could never own you," she sniffed. "It is not the Maori way. Aroha Tuatahi are partners. They cannot own one another." "I love it when you speak Maori," I said. "You sound so mysterious. What does it mean?" She stood up. "I'll explain that tonight too." Then she held out her hand to me. ------- When we got to the room I went to the bathroom. When I came out she was already in bed. The clothes she had been wearing were on the floor. She was lying on her side, her head propped up on one hand, supported by her elbow. Her dark eyes glittered in the light of the overhead bulb. She watched me get undressed. I left my boxers on. As I went toward the bed, she flipped the top bag back. It exposed her nakedness ... and it was no accident. "The light," she reminded me. As I got in she put her hand on my chest. "Do not turn away from me right now," she said. "Later, perhaps, but not now." Her hand moved to my shoulder, which she gripped gently, and pulled on, rolling me toward her. She scooted up against me and, for the first time, I felt those firm, hot breasts on my chest. She wiggled her left arm under me and put her right one around me. It was impossible not to do the same, and in a handful of heartbeats, we were embracing each other closely. I felt her breath on my chest, and put my nose in her hair, which smelled wonderful. "First I need to explain the Maori concept of Aroha Tuatahi. My people believe that each person is born with a spirit that matches only one other perfectly. That person is your Aroha Tuatahi, or spirit mate. A man may take two wives, but only one will be Aroha Tuatahi. In America some call this your one, true love." "I'm familiar with the concept," I said. "I don't buy into it. I think you can fall in love with many people." "The elders would agree with you," she said. "But they would insist that while you might love many, there is only one Aroha Tuatahi." "And I suppose there is some mystical way of determining who your ... however you say it ... is," I said. "That was never explained to me," she said. Her fingers moved on my back, aimlessly, almost nervously. "I was told my Aroha Tuatahi was probably another half breed, like me. There were no other half breeds in the clan, nor in any of the clans up to three days run from my village. Most considered me damaged and thought no man would want me for more than kairau ... a prostitute." I heard pain in her voice ... more pain than simply being predicted to be a prostitute would cause. "Most?" "One Papa (she pronounced the 'a' long, making it into pay-pay) - uncle would be the American word - took special interest in me. It was not like your American uncle, though. All men in the village were Papa to me. This one, though, decided to find out if I was different from a real Maori girl on the inside." "He raped you," I said. I felt the urge to tighten my arms, but refrained. "He wouldn't have called it that. I was expected to submit. I fought him, but he was too strong. He said it was to be my lot in life anyway when I grew up." "When you grew up?" I felt a chill run down my spine. "I was twelve." "Shit." "Twelve is old enough to marry, though few girls are sought for at that age," she said. "They are a very moral culture, actually. Had the others known he took me by force they would have punished him. He said I would disappear if I told anyone what he had done, and that no one would miss me." "I'm sorry, Kelani." "Not as sorry as he was," she said. "When he came back for seconds I bit off his ngarengare ... his penis." "Damn!" "When the others heard his screams they came. There was no way he could explain that. He died anyway. Bled to death." "Damn!" I gasped again. "There is no Maori word for oral sex," she said. "It is a perversion to them. When they found his penis on the ground in front of me, and my mouth bloody, they refused to even try to stop his bleeding. Of course I was even more damaged goods then, but at least the men left me alone." "So you didn't have lots of boyfriends," I said. "I had none. And, as I grew up, because I wasn't taught the female ways, and had few friends, and wasn't sought after, I read books. I read everything I could get my hands on. There was a big box of books in the council house. I had read all of them two or three times by the time I was fourteen. No one thought to send me to school, or stop me from going either, so one day I followed the other girls who went to school. There was a Pakeha teacher - a white woman - and she liked me. She gave me more books and then tutored me. It was wonderful, even though we both knew that if I didn't marry a white man, I would be a prostitute in Aotearoa." "Aotearoa," I repeated. "The Maori name for New Zealand," she said. "It means land of the long, white cloud." "What a crappy childhood," I said softly. "Not really," she said. "I had no idea how crappy it was. It was just my life. I didn't know any better until I got to America. College opened my eyes." "How did you manage that?" I asked. "It can't have been easy for a girl such as you describe to get to America." "Nothing could have been easier, as it turned out. All this time I knew very little about my mother. My aunties just said she was a good woman for a Pakeha. Then, on the day I was eighteen, a white man came to the village. He was a Mormon missionary. They were scattered all around the south island. I had seen some of them before. They loved to talk about their religion. Anyway, he asked for me, and when I was called, he gave me an envelope. In it was my birth certificate, and a letter from my mother." "Wow," I said softly. "She said she was sick with cancer they couldn't do anything about, and that she was sorry she had to leave me. She wrote how she decided that I should be raised by my father's clan, but that she wanted me to have options later. The birth certificate, she said, would prove I was an American citizen. It said my last name was Mortenson." "But you go by Tokorau?" "I knew nothing of my mother. That name sounded strange, and felt stranger on my tongue. It wasn't my name. But that comes later. She had left money with the Mormons and, if I wanted to, that money would get me to America. The man who brought these things said that, because I was the daughter of a Mormon, I was eligible for a scholarship at BYU." She kissed my chest, very gently. "I jumped at the chance, of course. There was nothing for me in Aotearoa. There were white men, of course, and many of them would have been happy to bed me. And I met women in Kaikoura, who were married to white men. But finding real love with a white man in my country is neither easy nor assured. Being bedded is easy, but that doesn't mean the man loves you. I wanted to find my Aroha Tuatahi." "I thought you graduated from USC," I said. "That's because of the second man who was in my life," she said. She wiggled against me. "I wish you did not have on those shorts," she murmured. "But I do," I said. "You may wish you had been more of a man and less of a gentleman later," she said. I wondered what that meant. But I was fascinated at the life this amazing woman had led, and I wanted to hear more. "Go on," I said. "I was lucky," she said. "People at BYU befriended me and took care of me. They taught me social rules and protected me from emotional and physical harm. It was there that people helped me go into court and change my legal name from Mortenson to Tokorau. Even though I did not miss my village, it was my name. It was all I had left of my old life. I admit it also made me stand out, and I wanted to stand out in this strange and wonderful land. There were so many amazing beautiful things, and so many beautiful women. I thought Tokorau would sound exotic. I was foolish back then, though I still think of those years as the best of my life. I was so lucky that the Mormons took care of me." "You were lucky," I said. "College can be a dangerous place for an innocent young woman." "I wasn't innocent," she said. "I knew five ways to kill a man with just my hands and feet." She stopped and then giggled. "And one with my mouth." "That's horrible!" I said. "Not when you do it to a rapist," she said. "That's something I don't understand about America. They have the death penalty, but they want to be so careful about how they kill the convicted. I mean death is death. Break his neck and he dies. Maybe it takes a few seconds, but then he's dead! Shoot him in the head and he dies. Maybe his body shakes and jerks for a while, but he's dead while it happens. Dead is dead! Why go through all this nonsense of making him happy, and then putting him to sleep, and only then killing him?" "Let's move on," I said. "Lying here with a naked woman who is talking about biting men's genitals off and how to kill them efficiently is giving me the creeps." "I wouldn't bite your ngarengare off." "Famous last words," I said. "Tell me about the man you liked." "Mmmm," she said, and suddenly her leg was over mine and she was rubbing her pussy on my thigh. I felt a surge of blood try to enter my penis, but there was no room for it. "Professor Thornton." "Professor?" "Professor Thomas Thornton, Asian studies. I was his teaching assistant. It was my work study position, even though I was only a Freshman." "And he seduced you?" "He asked me if I would let him prove to me that a man could treat a woman with respect and still make her sexually happy." "He knew about your ... papa," I said. "Yes. He was fascinated with my experience as a mixed race child in Maori culture." "And I take it he proved himself right." "He taught me to love sex," she said. "What happened?" "What do you mean?" "You're not still with him," I explained. "Oh. His wife wasn't as open minded as he was." "Did you know he was married?" "Of course. I had met her before." "Then why did you think it would be a good idea to have sex with him?" "In my culture a man may have more than one wife," she said. "I know that American law prohibits this, but a married man with a mistress is little different than a man with two wives." "I would have thought the Mormons would be accepting of that idea," I said. "They are wonderful and fascinating people," she said. "But they are very little like the popular conception of them. Very few of them think having multiple wives is a good thing. And they are not at all tolerant of sexual things outside of marriage. When his wife cried foul, my scholarship was withdrawn. They let me finish the year, but that was all. I had not joined the church yet either. My grades were good, though, and Tom helped me get a scholarship to USC. Once I got there I decided it was better to be a star student than be happy in bed, so I put in the basket for a while. "In the basket?" "It is a saying in my village. You call it the back burner." "So how did you end up in law enforcement?" I asked. "In my senior year I went to a job fair. There was a recruiter for Government service there. I thought he was cute so I talked to him. When he found out I was trilingual he said I should take some tests. After that I was invited to an interview. I didn't even know it was the Inspector General's office until I got there. The man who interviewed me wanted to take me to bed." "Please don't tell me he propositioned you," I moaned. "No, but I could tell. He talked about all kinds of things except law enforcement and the IG's office, and then said if I could pass the course at FLETC I would be hired. So I went, and they hired me and they gave me to you, and here I am." "They didn't give you to me," I said. "Yes they did. When Joe said I was going to be your partner on probationary status, he said I should think of it as you owning me. He said if I did that, and listened to everything you told me, that criminals would quail in fear all over the world. That's a quote." I had to laugh. Joe had a lot of confidence in me. But he put himself out on a limb saying things like that to a young woman who didn't have American culture down stone cold. "When he said I owned you, he didn't mean that involved having sex with me," I said. "I know that, silly," she said. "And I didn't plan to. But things have changed." "Just because you found out I'm not gay doesn't mean things have changed," I said. She laughed. "That's the first thing I ever heard you say that was truly stupid." "It's not stupid. I already told you about office romances." "Yes ... you did. This is something else I thought much about today. You are a traditionalist, so you think about things in a traditional way. I understand that very well. All the men in my village are very traditional." "You're saying I'm set in my ways," I said. "I haven't heard that phrase," she said. "I was thinking more along the lines of stubborn." "Okay. I can live with that. I'm stubborn." "Yes, and in some ways, at some times, that is a very good quality. But it can also limit your experience. Look at me. I am stubborn about finding my Aroha Tuatahi. I hoped Professor Thornton was my Aroha Tuatahi, but he was not. Since then I have left men in a basket because none of them smelled of Aroha Tuatahi to me. I could have had many experiences having sex. And I love to have sex. But because I am stubborn I have not allowed this." "That is an example of how being stubborn is a good thing," I said. "And I know being stubborn about office romances is a good thing too." "You think it is a good thing," she said. "One of the bad things about being stubborn is that it also limits the way you think about things. If you stubbornly believe something, you don't examine it, or look for other ways or beliefs. It limits your options. "And I suppose you have thought of options where an office romance will work," I said. "Maybe," she said. "I haven't thought much about that. But I am not as convinced about their inevitable failure as you are. And in any case, there is much more we have to learn about each other before it is time to explore new ways of having an office romance." What I heard her say is that we weren't going to do anything in that sleeping bag that night. She was hopping on board the slow boat to Nirvana. Of course I was a little confused about all this, because while she was saying that she was subtly rubbing her pussy against my thigh, masturbating slowly, using me as something to rub against. I realized I was unhappy, and that it had to do with the fact that nothing was going to happen inside that bag that night. I remember moving my left hand to her hip. I think it was an unconscious way to help her masturbate. "What kind of things?" I asked. "With you, I do sense something like Aroha Tuatahi," she said. "It has been there all along, but I ignored it because I thought you were gay. We need to explore that. If you are my Aroha Tuatahi, then I will talk with you about ways I can think of to make an office romance turn out well." I felt the prickle of danger along my spine, but decided it was her fingers drifting up and down my back. "And how is it you arrived at the conclusion I might be your wara-?" "Aroha Tuatahi," she said. "It is a combination of many things. I've told you some of them already. I was attracted to you even when I thought you were gay. You are a gentleman. You care about me in ways most men would not. I respect your judgment. Well, except that your judgment about not wanting to mahimahi. That means-" "I can figure out what that means," I said. "That doesn't mean we are soul mates." "Of course not. But I have very strong feelings for you ... stronger in some ways than for any man I have known." "Tell me about the men in your life since Professor whoever," I said. "You cannot lessen the impact he had on me by pretending to forget his name," she said. "It is because of him that I wish to lie with you." "And why is that, exactly?" I asked. "Since Tom, there have been men who I found were mildly interesting. But only mildly. None of them made me want to be fully a woman with them." "No one?" "Not in four years." I started to point out that I had apparently gotten her going, but it occurred to me that would be too easy for her to just agree with. So I changed it to "So what happened?" "The first time I saw you I felt a tremble in my Te-Koru." She felt for my hand on her hip and rolled back enough to pull it to her flat stomach. "Here," she said. "Only Tom had made me feel that, and even then, not often. He was very vain and proud. "Sometimes it was difficult to like him. But he knew how to make my body sing, and sometimes I wanted him to shock my Te-Koru. When you did the same, simply by looking at me, I didn't know how to feel about it. But you only taught me investigations. You didn't flirt, like Tom, or tease, like Tom. You made me respect you. I wanted to go to work every day, even on days off. I wanted to be around you. I knew ... thought ... you were gay. I thought that was a waste, but I respected your decision to be so. And eventually I realized I liked you. I've never liked a man before. They were just there. They had to be dealt with. But they were almost always a pain in the ass. You weren't." "Well thanks for that," I said, grinning in the dark. "When I found out you were not gay, everything about you took on new meaning. I know how men react to me. I knew then how strong you were. I already knew you to be a man of principle, and I realized that to choose the path you chose meant you respected me too. I realized I had never felt about any man like I feel about you. Today, all I could think about was what it would be like to feel you pressing on me, your ngarengare shocking my Te-Koru. But even so, whatever we were doing I liked being with you, even when it was boring, like the fishing. I was content to be with you even if that meant I could not be in bed with you. And here ... right now ... I love what we are doing ... even though I want much, much more. If you are not my Aroha Tuatahi, then I must never meet him, because if I felt more strongly about a man than I feel for you, I would be unable to function." "If only it were that easy," I sighed. "It is that easy," she said. "If we believe it is true, then it is true." "If we believe that the sky is canary yellow, does that make it so?" I asked. "Do you believe the sky is canary yellow?" "Of course not." "Then what is the point of arguing about that?" "I told you. Romances between superiors and subordinates are frowned upon," I said. "Frowns never killed anybody," she said. "No, but they can kill a career." "And do you want Joe's job?" "Hell no," I said. "Then make love to me and I will tell everyone how wonderful it was, and you'll never have to take Joe's job." I laughed again. She was refreshing in a faintly juvenile way. "They would send you away," I said. "It would kill me." I was shocked I had said the last few words. They had come unbidden to my lips. But they had come from my heart. My heart knew what I wanted, even if my brain refused ... stubbornly ... to accept it. "Maybe they would not send me away," she said. "Maybe they would send you away." I hugged her, squeezing her tightly. I loved the fact she was so unjaded as to think that Joe would intentionally lose his most senior agent, rather than an admittedly beautiful ... but probationary one. "We cannot see what is along the path," she whispered, "unless we walk the path." I only had one bit of resistance left in me. I tried a little humor to deflect her one last time. "Walking paths does not interest me right now. I'd rather stay here with you," I said weakly. Her hand came off my back and pushed at the waistband of my boxers. "Take those off," she whispered. "They are only in the way now." ------- Chapter 6 I had had sex, occasionally, since the woman I had wanted to marry dumped me. But I had forgotten what it feels like to make love. There was no hurry, urgency or frenzy. Kelani climbed on top of me and stretched out, writhing slowly. There was a sensual nature to the way she rubbed her body against mine. She scooted up for kisses, and then spent fifteen minutes kissing me in fifteen different ways. She started with "I love this," after a long kiss, then added "and I love that," after more. At one point she moved up until I felt her breast rubbing my face. I sucked the nipple and she froze. "Oh, and I love that," she gasped. "I have missed that so much!" She made me give her fifteen minutes of nipple love before she moved back down for more kisses. "I love that you are not in a hurry," she whispered. She sucked on my tongue, and then said "But now I want you to hurry. I need to be filled now." She rolled off of me. I got carefully over her. Her hand came to my aching prick. I admit I had used up all the patience and slow I had in me. I took her roughly. But suddenly I couldn't stand not being in her, and as I thrust and penetrated her, only the fact that I could feel copious lubrication and her own pelvic thrust, signifying she urgently wanted what I was giving her made the guilt go away. Her groan of satisfaction only spurred me on. I felt like I was raping her as I withdrew an inch and then slammed hard back into her, grunting like some animal. Her hands fluttered on my back. One dropped to my ass and pulled in time with my thrusts. Her voice came in my ear, praising me, asking for more. Some of it was unintelligible, Maori, no doubt, or maybe that third language she had alluded to, which I hadn't identified, but which I probably also could not understand. Her first orgasm announced itself when she stiffened, her strong body resisting my crushing thrusts. Her internal muscles fluttered, rippled and then gripped me like a fist. Instinct made me push hard and rub the base of my cock back and forth across her clit. She cried out, again in words I could not understand. Without planning or warning, all my feelings for her overwhelmed me. I concentrated on what I was doing, and where my penis was. With a whimper, I felt my balls clench, and suddenly soothing semen was rushing through my cock, leaping into her body like otters leap into the stream. I wanted nothing else at that moment, nothing in the entire world, than to be doing what I was doing ... cumming in Kelani. ------- I'm convinced we lost our minds that night. The world backed away, and all that existed was the space inside those two sleeping bags, zipped together. Kelani had not exaggerated when she said she liked sex a lot. She was insatiable. We literally made love until we were too exhausted to continue. At one point, because she could not reach my lips if I was on top of her and in deep, she mounted me and fucked only the first two inches of my cock, moving slightly, but also manipulating her pussy muscles such that they squeezed and released my knob, almost like she was jacking me off. I knew she had learned this with her professor, because she was too good at it for it to be something she had just discovered, or was exploring. And she could tell when I was about to cum too, because just as that happened she stopped kissing me and said "Shock my Te-Koru, Bob." Then, as I spurted, she slammed herself down, taking me deep until I had nothing left to give her. Eventually, though, as I said, we were both exhausted and, entwined in each other's arms, we finally slept. ------- I will admit here, and just hope that Joe never reads it, that the next three days were more like a honeymoon than a criminal investigation. We did gather the data we needed. I found out, for instance, that Chuck and Janice were married and did not, in fact own the company, even though their names appeared on all the documentation. I found this out by the simple expedient of expressing interest in expanding my contracting into this area, and asked Chuck how he had gone about arranging with the government to establish the camp. He told me the real mover and shaker was a man named Jeff Rudolph, and that all he and Janice did was run day to day operations. As long as they turned a profit, Jeff was apparently happy. I also learned that they transmitted all information about the camp to Jeff, and that it was Jeff who took care of all the paperwork, leaving them all their time to make the campers happy. "So it's Jeff who determines whether or not you're making a profit?" I asked. "Yup," said Chuck. "Every so often he calls up and says how happy he is and to keep up the good work. I've only met him once, and that's when we applied for the job. If we need anything we call Emily, his secretary and it happens." "I suppose the person I need to talk to, then, is Jeff," I said. "Yeah," he agreed. "Sorry I can't help you." "You have helped me," I said, grinning. "You've helped me have one of the best vacations I've had in years." He grinned back. "Please feel free to mention that to Mr. Rudolph when you see him." "I'll do that," I said. Now that I knew Chuck and Janice weren't actually the ones ordering supplies, they were no longer on the suspect list. Jeff Rudolph was. Besides that and a few other things we did to establish the facts and circumstances, I spent my time playing the part of a stud horse. That's what it felt like sometimes. The way she looked at me made me feel like I was being evaluated for the strong points I might bring to a foal. At any moment she might press up against me and say "I need a private word with you, Dear," which I soon learned was code for "I want you naked and on top of me within ten minutes!" It seemed like everything we did turned her on. Horse riding was the worst. Whether the horses were going uphill, and she was leaning forward, rubbing her clit against the saddle, or going downhill, at which point her pussy was glued to the base of the saddle horn, she always got off a horse horny. If we were riding alone, she wanted to be taken in the open air, clothed or not. One day she arranged with Eartha for a picnic lunch, and we hiked until she found a place to spread the blanket. She wanted to make love both before and after we ate. Her early life experiences and cultural upbringing notwithstanding, she had no distaste for oral sex. She loved both to perform it, and to have it performed on her. She was quite verbal about guiding me and telling me just what to do, and where to do it. All women should do that, because it got her where she wanted to be quickly and often. It got me where I wanted to be often too, with my penis deep inside her, looking at that lovely face as I gasped and bucked, ejaculating in her yet again. The dance she had alluded to was sinuous and slow, like the hula in slow motion. It was a striptease as well, that ended with her fingers showing me what she wanted - penetration. She hummed while she danced, and the tone of her hum clearly established that she loved being naked in front of me, and loved even more what that did to me. She didn't want to play cards after supper. Instead we sat in the hot tub. If no one else was there, and it was dark, she'd take off that yellow bikini top and sit on my lap for nipple love. Then, not even drying off, we'd run laughing to our cabin to mate like our lives depended on it. I honestly have no idea how many times we made love during that 72 hour period. I know it was more than I would ever have believed two people could do so, even if they really were on their honeymoon. And yet, when the week was over and we rode back down to the lodge, I felt more rested than I had in years. The first thing she said once we had our gear loaded in the new rental car was "Let's find a motel now." I knew her well by now, and knew what was on her mind. I teased her by saying I was hungry. "Find a motel and I'll feed you," she said, not missing a beat. I finally had a burger two hours later. ------- We stayed in the Denver area for another week. That's because the inventory we had transmitted back to the office was a clear indication that there was a problem. The Air Force had identified where the chopper landed and inquiry at the office of deeds revealed it was a ranch on the west side of the Rockies, owned by D & R Enterprises. D & R Enterprises was the beginning of the trail to more than thirty businesses, one of which was the company registered (without their knowledge) to Chuck and Janice Allen, whose mail box was located, along with a phalanx of other mailboxes lined neatly up along the road that entered the D & R Enterprises ranch. Just beyond that, however, was a high security gate, with enough electronic surveillance to discourage any but the most well prepared, uninvited visitor from trying to poke around. The Air Force was good enough to take Kelani and me up with them the next Monday, where we monitored the chopper that took off from the High Plains Helicopter Service, which was another in the stable of the thirty D & R Enterprises. It had been loaded with boxes removed from a local wholesaler's van, and then flew to the camp. When it left the camp, it flew to the ranch, where boxes, crates and plastic tubs Kelani and I were quite familiar with, were unloaded and moved into one end of a huge ranch house. Empty tubs were loaded on the chopper, which went back to its base. Apparently they swapped out empties when a new shipment was received. The wholesaler's records would be examined at a later date. We briefed Joe on the phone. He said he'd arrange for Colorado assets to be used to continue surveillance, and for us to turn in the car, fly back home, and start putting the case together. The honeymoon was over. ------- Obviously we didn't announce our new relationship to the office. The first burp came when Joe called me into his office a week after we got back. Our travel vouchers were on his desk. He wanted to know why we hadn't gotten separate rooms after we left the camp, during the week of surveillance we pulled. "It was just habit to bunk together," I said carelessly. He stared at me. We had told the exact truth on the vouchers. It would have been easy to rent two rooms and stay in one, but it would also have wasted money and been a lie, both of which were things we investigated people for. "What other 'habits' did you two decide to get into on this trip?" he asked. "You want me to ask her to marry me?" I offered. "Don't make light of this, Bob," he said. "You know how the agency feels about things." I did, in fact, know that there were at least three pairs of married Agents working for the IG. None of them were stationed in D.C. but they were in the same office together. I had thought a lot about that over the past week. The idea of not having Kelani in my life was already unthinkable. I hadn't mentioned it to her, though. What we had was fantastic, but I couldn't believe it would ever be permanent. She could do a lot better than me. "I'm not making light of anything," I said. "There is no problem. She has a boyfriend in Utah. If she wanted to, she could kick my ass so hard it would look like I was smoking my own dick. She did a great job on this case already, and she's just getting started." Joe knew me well enough not to take anything at face value. "Just don't screw up a good thing, Bob," he said. "I put her with you because I trusted you to be mature enough for both of you." "Take her out for a beer," I suggested. "Talk to her. Ask her anything you want to." He snorted. "If my wife found out I took Kelani out for a beer she'd cut my balls off," he said. "Then take your wife along too," I said. "Just don't give us a hard time for telling the truth on a travel voucher." He stared at me grumpily for a few seconds, and then said "Get the hell out of my office. You have work to do. ------- Chapter 7 Kelani was, in fact, just getting started. Her accounting degree had given her the tools she needed, and her own inquisitive and tireless curiosity gave her the perfect attitude to relish doing white collar investigations. Soon she had reams of paper to go through, and disks of data. For three weeks she came to work, ignored me all day, and kept her nose in either handfuls of papers, or the computer screen. She took notes and prepared spreadsheets. I handled the upkeep on all our other cases, while she dug into D & R Enterprises. Twice she snarled at me for interrupting her and breaking her concentration. At night, though, she left work behind. She didn't want me to come to her house, which was in a part of town where she said I'd be distracted all the time, arresting her neighbors. So three or four times a week she came to my house and paid attention to being my lover. That sounds chauvinistic, but it wasn't. That's because I paid attention to being her lover too. She brought out things in me I thought were long dead. And being lovers didn't always mean just having sex. She had never read a Harry Potter book or seen the movies. I had the full set of books. The last book had just come out, and I had it, but hadn't read it yet. So, over a period of weeks, she would spend at least an hour a night reading, curled in one of my easy chairs, while I puttered, or read or just sat and watched her read. Then we might watch a movie, or go to a park, or window shopping. Eventually she would say "Take me home. I need to speak with you in private." And then we'd go home and just tear up my bed. ------- It took her five weeks to unravel the tangled web that Jeff Rudolph had woven to hide the fact that, professionally, his primary activity involved ripping off the United States Government. She traced the thirty companies in D & R Enterprises back to him in one way or another. His wife was not on any business documents, and apparently stayed at their gated mansion in Las Vegas. The Ranch on the western Rockies was his playground, and the place he most often wheeled and dealed. There he had the privacy and setting in which to do complicated business deals. Surveillance established that there were almost weekly shindigs at the ranch, by invitation only. What was interesting was that an awful lot of Government contracting officers got invited to his parties. Most of them arrived without their wives, but then there were carloads of pretty young women who arrived without escorts either. It was pretty obvious what the food stolen from the camp was being used for. That food was being stolen was something Kelani established quickly and easily. The wholesaler's records showed what was being supplied, and one of the D & R shell companies that did all the accounting for the lodge and camp prepared detailed records of how all those supplies were used up at the Lodge and camp. Through very clever accounting practices, the number of guests, and the fees collected from those guests, were reported in completely different formats, and separate quarterly reports. So the only way it could be determined that more food was being requested than was actually needed, was to compare reports that looked like apples and oranges. That would have been enough, but Kelani went ahead and found fuel discrepancies in claims for the flying service. They only had one chopper, but sent in claims for reimbursement for enough fuel to have flown two routinely. There were documented discrepancies in fifteen of the other shell companies, all of which were doing business with the Government in one fashion or another. Her preliminary estimate for what D & R Enterprises had overcharged or stolen from the Government, was 3.2 million dollars. And that was just for one year. The food alone added up to half a million. Joe was ecstatic. The AUSA looked over what Kelani had put together in a briefing, and frowned. He complained it would be a complicated case, with all the shell companies, and different business locations, and disparate kinds of contracts involved. But he said he was interested, and would put together a Grand Jury to investigate charges of theft of government property and funds, as well as wire fraud, for the electronic billing the companies did. Then he told us he wanted us to go find Jeffrey Rudolph and shake his tree, to see what dropped out. "It's way too early for that," I said. "We're still identifying what kinds of documents we're going to need to seize. If we roust him now, a lot of those documents will suddenly get lost." "That's one of the things I want you to be very specific with him about," said the attorney. "Tell him he needs to make sure that all his companies records are in pristine condition, because we're going to be holding him personally responsible if anything is missing." "Why put him on notice?" I asked. "Because this case will take years to prosecute," he said frankly. "Unless he wants to make a deal. If we get ten or fifteen million back, and avoid an expensive and extended prosecution, we're better off than if we try to go after everything." "Based on what I've been seeing, he could be into the government for as much as twenty-five million or more," said Kelani. "Which it would take us ten years to prove, during which time he'd declare bankruptcy, and we wouldn't get squat in the end. I say put the pressure on him to make a deal now. If that doesn't work, we can drag him through the dirt then." Which is how Kelani and I ended up on the fourteenth floor of an office building in Las Vegas, Nevada, walking into the offices of something called Sin City Property Development Company. ------- We were met by a typically pretty young woman who said her name was Emily, and asked if she could help us. We asked to speak with Mr. Rudolph. She asked us what the nature of our business was, and I said "Property development." Emily told us to have a seat, and she would see if Mr. Rudolph could see us. She then went through a pair of ten foot tall doors that looked like they were made of solid, carved oak. Ten minutes later she opened one of the doors and said "Mr. Rudolph will see you now." Jeffrey Rudolph had that tanned look of a man who spends a lot of time outdoors in Florida or California. His skin wasn't dried out like Las Vegas residents often suffer. He had thick, medium length blond hair, and a car salesman's smile. He looked to be about my age, but was possibly in his early fifties. "I'm Jeff Rudolph," he said, standing up. "How can I help you?" I badged him and told him he was under investigation for false official statements, larceny of government funds, wire fraud, and quite possibly other offenses involving most, if not all of his shell companies gathered under the banner of D & R Enterprises. The only warrant we had with us had been issued for the ranch. The idea was to shake him up and see what he said, and then take him to the ranch, where a search team would be waiting. Things didn't quite turn out that way, though. He picked up his phone and punched a button. He didn't look worried at all. "Emily? You know that comp time I owe you for the overtime you put in last week? I want you to take it, starting now. Please lock up on the way out." He hung up the phone, sat down, and said "Now what's all this nonsense about?" I thought it was extremely interesting that he'd called his secretary, and told her to go home, instead of calling his attorney. ------- Jeffrey wasn't in the mood to make any statements or deals. He said it was all bullshit and that he'd be happy to show us the ranch. He stood up and said "Shall we go now?" I hadn't been ambushed in a long, long time, which was why I wasn't prepared, when we left his office to find sweet little Emily standing to one side of us, holding a very shiny nickel plated semi automatic pistol that looked like a Taurus 9mm. She had locked up. She just hadn't left. Jeffrey stepped away from us as Emily said "Don't move!" She sounded scared enough that I didn't move. Jeffrey said "Cover him, honey, but keep your eye on the other one too." "I called," said Emily, babbling in her nervous energy. "The jet will be ready when we get there." Kelani moved and Emily's shrill voice yipped "I don't want to shoot you, but I will!" "Nobody's shooting anybody," Jeff said smoothly. He stepped behind me and patted my sides, finding my shoulder holster. He relieved me of my Sig Sauer. He felt on my belt for my cuffs and pulled them too. "We're just going to cuff these two to something so they can't get loose for a few hours. By the time somebody finds them and lets them loose, we'll be living in luxury, just like I promised you, baby." "We'll freeze your assets," I said calmly. He laughed. "You think I'm stupid enough to keep my money in American banks? I have friends in high places in countries that don't give a crap what the FBI thinks." I decided not to correct his impression we were with the FBI. I try not to quibble when a scared young woman is pointing a loaded pistol at me. He moved over to Kelani and basically felt her up, searching for her weapon. He stood behind her and put my gun in his waistband. Then he reached around and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them hard. "Where you got it, honey?" he said under his breath, and reached his right hand down to grope between her legs. I saw her right knee bend, and her foot came off the floor six inches. "Don't!" I warned, but it was too late. Kelani's heel came down on his instep as her right elbow slid up his arm and she leaned forward. Her elbow caught him on the temple and he staggered sideways. "Stop!" screamed Emily and her pistol tracked over toward Kelani, who was moving parallel to Rudolph. She whirled and her foot impacted his knee. I heard the dull crack of broken bones and winced as Rudolph let out an agonized cry. Emily's gun went off, but I could tell she shot way high. Then my handcuffs were flying through the air, whirling on the axis of the chain that connected them. They caught Emily right on her forehead and her head snapped back. The gun went off again, neatly puncturing the ceiling. I reached for my backup gun in the holster on my right ankle. It was a Chief Special, chambered for .357 Magnum. It only held five rounds, but I carried Black Talon hollow points in it. As I stood up Jeffrey Rudolph shot me with my own pistol. He hit me in my left shoulder and the standard issue government 9mm ball knocked me backwards to the floor. I looked over at Kelani in time to see her roundhouse kick snap into Emily's head. Sweet Emily collapsed like a rag doll and Kelani dropped to the floor just as Rudolph fired at her with my gun. The desk was in his way and the bullets went high. "You bitch!" he screamed, "You broke my fucking leg!" and I saw him trying to get up. I knew there were at least ten rounds left in my pistol, so I brought my backup up and shot him center mass. My Sig went flying and he screamed. Within seconds Kelani was standing over him, her own Sig, pulled from her thigh holster, pointing at his head as her foot kicked my pistol away from his hand. She looked over at me. "How bad?" "Through and through, I think," I said. "Do what you have to do." "Call 911," she said. "He's bleeding pretty badly. Nice shooting, partner. You got him in the shoulder." "Fuck," I groaned. "I was aiming for his heart." ------- I called 911 and then Joe. I was starting to feel the pain, and my arm was pretty bloodied up. Rudolph was in much worse shape. The Black Talon had hit the shoulder joint and shrapnel had removed half a pound of flesh. They took him straight to the hospital and into surgery. Las Vegas PD showed up in the mood for a raid, but Kelani explained things to them. Another ambulance came and I had to leave her there to fend for herself. I found out later she made a lifelong friend of the LVPD CSI and they directed the processing of the scene together. She said it was interesting to see the lengths they would go to to find and retrieve every bullet fired. I was trying to convince the doctor that with the bleeding stopped, there was no reason I couldn't leave the hospital when Kelani showed up and asked the doctor if he wanted her to handcuff me to the bed. She dangled my own handcuffs in front of her as she suggested it. He laughed, said he wanted me to stay overnight, but that he was sure I could go home in the morning. Once Kelani was sure I'd stay in bed, she went to find out about Rudolph. She came back to tell me the prognosis was good that he'd live, but bad that he'd ever have full use of the arm again. I asked where Emily was, and she snorted. "Once she regained consciousness, saw all the blood, and I arrested her for attempted murder, she begged to roll over on her boss. Apparently he was going to take her to Nueva Gerona, which a little island south of Cuba. He threw around a bunch of money and made friends with the Cubans. He has a villa down there that his wife doesn't know about." "Worked out okay," I said. "Except for you getting shot. I'm not wild about that part," she said. "As well you should not be. And now, please take off your clothes." "What? Why. You are injured!" "Yes, and I need to inspect you to make sure you are not," I said, trying to stop from grinning. "I'm the inspector here," she said. "Until you are healed." "And I need to inspect the inspector," I said, straight faced. "You just want to see me naked." "You've a very smart inspector," I said. "You'll go far in this outfit." She decided to ignore me. "There is something we need to do when you get well," she said. "What's that?" "We need to get married," she said. "Oh really?" "Yes." "May I ask what brought this on?" "Of course," she said ... and then was silent. "What brought this on?" I asked. "You are my Aroha Tuatahi," she said. "I know this now." "I'm honored," I said. "And you have given me the gift of life in my Te-Koru ... my womb." She patted her stomach as she said it. "I wish for him to bear your name, and so it would be good that we marry before you get yourself killed." "You're pregnant?" I felt weak. The talk of marriage was something that didn't bother me. I had thought about the possibility of that for weeks. True, I didn't think it would ever actually happen, but the idea of it was actually quite pleasing to me. "Yes," she said. "I have missed two cycles, and the doctor says I have killed a rabbit somehow. I was going to talk to you about this, but I got busy preparing the case to show to the AUSA, and then we came here and those idiots tried to kill us over money. I am learning that Americans can be very stupid sometimes." "Very," I said, searching for something to say. "Plus, you were right. I am tired of having to hide that I love you. I want everyone to know. And I want everyone to know you have given me this special gift." She patted her stomach again, and then looked at me closely. "You are not smiling. I suppose there is some stupid rule that says Agents may not marry." "No. No rule," I said. "I'm just surprised. I didn't see it coming that you'd want to marry me." "Then you're not very observant. You need to pay a hell of a lot more attention to detail, or you won't hack it in this organization. I believe you told me that a few months ago when you were resisting shocking my womb." "I am blinded by my love for you," I said. She smiled. "You can be so full of shit, Bob. But that's one of the things I love about you. You are a good man. You are my Aroha Tuatahi, and I am yours. We will be together forever." "I can't wait to get started being together forever," I said. She seemed to relax. "Good. I will tell Joe that we need time off to be married. I like your house. Can we just live there?" "Not unless you kiss me first," I said. "Am I allowed to? You are injured." "You're allowed to," I said. She leaned over and kissed me gently. I put my good hand behind her head and held her there for a long time. When I let go and she pulled back, I said "I love you, Kelani Tokorau. I am honored to be Aroha Tuatahi to you." Her eyes got misty. "Maybe you are not too injured. Am I allowed to make love with you in the hospital too?" ------- My arm was still in a sling. Rudolph's lawyer was in Joe's office, ranting about how we broke his knee and destroyed his shoulder, almost killing him during a routine arrest. He was calling us incompetent. Kelani was sitting in a straight backed chair and looked a little stiff. When the lawyer finally wound down, she said "May I speak?" Joe perked up and leaned forward, frowning slightly. "We went there only to inform your client that we were investigating him, and to serve a search warrant and offer to let him observe the search. We didn't have to do that. We could have searched and left a copy of the warrant at the place searched. You know this is true. For our trouble I was shot at four times, and my partner was shot in the shoulder. Your client entered into a conspiracy with his secretary to kidnap two federal agents and flee the country. In my mind, he was in the commission of a felony and attempting to flee, so I disabled him." "You broke his knee!" yelled the lawyer. "The manual clearly states that the knee, elbow and head may not be struck with a baton," said Kelani calmly. "It says nothing about my foot. And I would remind you that your client was already in possession of my partner's weapon. I was in fear of my life. I defended myself." "Then you shot him!" screeched the attorney. "That is not true," she said. "If I'd have shot him, he would be dead. My partner shot him. His poor aim may be excused by the fact that your client had shot him already." "Well, I've got witnesses who will swear that my client has never picked up a gun in his life. He discharged that weapon accidentally, and I find all this defensive talk on your part very convenient. I think you're both out of control, and we're not going to stand for it. Nothing has been proved that my client has done anything wrong at all. I'm putting you on notice that we're going to sue. This was police brutality in its worst possible form. I want copies of everything you have!" Kelani stood up. "Joe? Is our presence here required further? I wish to separate myself from the babbling of a fool." "Go back to work," said Joe. "I'm not finished with her yet!" snapped the lawyer. "You've had your say," said Joe. "And it was a nice try at getting at our files before Rudolph is formally charged. You'll get what a judge says you can have. Now leave. We have work to do. If you would like, I will instruct Agent Tokorau to assist you in leaving. Of course if you resist she may feel she has probable cause to believe that you are violating the disorderly conduct laws of this city, and may feel compelled to arrest you, and turn you over to local authorities." "How dare you threaten me!" gasped the lawyer. "I'm not threatening you," said Joe. "I'm giving you valuable information. You've seen that my agents are quite capable of taking someone into custody even if he resists arrest." The man blustered, but beat a hasty retreat. Joe turned to us. "Don't think you have all the time in the world to finish the fraud case just because the perpetrator is going to be locked up for the next twenty to thirty years for kidnapping and attempted murder. His wife is filing papers claiming that half of everything is hers, and that since she's divorcing him, she wants her half now. We don't even know how much he has, and if it all belongs to the government, I don't want her to get a cent." "Got it," said Kelani. "When's the wedding?" he asked. "We haven't decided yet," she said. "You should have just gotten married in Vegas," he said. "I hear you can do that in half an hour there, and all it costs you is fifty bucks." Kelani turned on me. "Why didn't you tell me this?" "Because I don't want to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world in a ceremony officiated at by an Elvis impersonator," I said. She frowned. "Are you BSing me?" She turned to Joe. "Is he BSing me?" Joe held up both hands, palms out. "He is not," he said firmly. "I have given him stern instructions never to BS you in any way, shape or form." Kelani looked at us both again. "Soon," she said. "We will be married soon." "Good," said Joe. "Maybe then the men in this office will get some work done." ------- We got married in a very small ceremony in the chapel of a church that one of the other Agents in our office attended. Kelani didn't care who came. I invited everybody in the office, just to be polite. I was surprised at the turnout. All the wives came. I got the feeling they wanted to physically confirm that she was coming off the market. The only person who cried was Kelani, who sobbed and clung to me, saying she was so happy she didn't know what to do. I just kept kissing her until she calmed down. People were looking everywhere except at us. It was hilarious. They were embarrassed to see a newly married man comfort his wife by kissing her. What did they expect? Moving her things into my house took all of two hours. She traveled light. I found out that probably a quarter of the clothes she owned had been purchased just to go under cover. Her office clothing was easily half her wardrobe. Her amazing capability to remember bits and pieces of what she'd seen on a document a week ago (and where that document currently was) enabled her to put together a devastating case against D & R Industries, and Jeffrey Rudolph. His U.S. assets were frozen, much to the consternation of his wife. He was convicted of the conspiracy, kidnapping and attempted murder charges and ended up with thirty years. Emily testified against him, and got five years. Meanwhile, Kelani kept piling up evidence of his frauds, until it was obvious that Mrs. Rudolph not only wasn't going to retire in the lap of luxury, she might not end up with her own silverware. The Government might not be able to get its hands on the cash he had stashed in Cuba, but they could take everything else he had. And if he was convicted of all the fraud, it was likely he'd never get out of prison to spend a dime of his ill-gotten gains. The Grand Jury started their investigation in March, and in April Kelani gave birth to our first child, a son. She had insisted it was a son all along, and hadn't looked at the ultra sound at all. He was gorgeous, with thick, black hair, and just the suggestion of an epicanthic fold. I stared at them, thinking I had the perfect wife, who was the perfect mother to the perfect son. She named him Matiu, which means gift of God. Joe pulled her out of the field and made her the office accounting specialist, available to work on everybody's cases with her amazing knack at digging evidence out of reams of paper. For her 24th birthday I wanted to fly us all to New Zealand, and go to her village. I wanted to show them what she had become, and show off my four month old son. She refused. "I didn't leave anything behind in my village," she said. "I do not need to return there to retrieve it." Life was good. Matiu grew fast and fat on breast milk so copiously produced that I had to help swallow it, lest she leak on the sheets at night. She said she liked both her men to feed at her breasts. Then, in April of 2009, when Matiu was a year old, she weaned him and said her womb was ready to be shocked again. That was the first time I learned exactly what she meant by her Te-Koru being shocked. It was also the first time I realized that, while we were undercover in Colorado, she was trying to get pregnant with my baby. So I shocked her Te-Koru again, and by her 25th birthday in August, 2010, she was just beginning to bulge nicely. Matiu already loved what he called his little sister, who was growing in mommy's tummy. He kissed said tummy and talked to it regularly. I did too, for that matter, though I spent a lot more time kissing other things. And then the postman showed up at the office one day with a piece of registered mail for Kelani. It was a package, nondescript, wrapped in brown paper. The return address was from a name neither of us recognized in Utah. There was a letter attached to the outside with enough tape to ensure it didn't fall off, even if it went around the world a couple of times before it got to her. She opened it and read quickly. "It's from the Mormons," she said. "My mother left some things in their care, with instructions for them to send them to me when I was twenty-five. There's a letter from her in the package, and a diary, and a bracelet." She sat there, looking at the package. "You going to open it?" I asked. She picked it up, turned it over several times, as if examining all sides of it, and then set it back down. "I'll open it at home, tonight." "Okay," I said. "You worried?" "I don't know what I am," she said. "I never thought I'd get a chance to learn anything about my mother. Her diary is in there. And a letter to me. It could contain anything." "You want to go home early?" She shook her head. "No. It will wait. It's waited twenty years. Another few hours won't hurt." The package lay there, in plain sight, for the rest of the day. ------- She was more patient than I would have been. She waited until Matiu was in bed and asleep before she slit the paper covering and opened the box. The diary looked like a diary. She pulled out a stained envelope with free flowing script across the front: Kelani Mortenson. Under that was the date: July eighth, 1987. She tore it open and I left, to give her some privacy. I sat down and turned on the TV, with the volume low, more to have something to do than because I wanted to watch whatever was on. A few minutes later her cry had me up and running, the hair standing up on the back of my neck. She sounded like she was in anguish, and the first thing I thought of was that something had gone wrong with the baby. She wasn't holding her belly. Nor was she bent over, but her face looked like something awful was on the page she held in her hand. I saw the gleam of silver in her other hand, and saw it was a bracelet. She looked up at me. Her eyes were unfathomable. "What's wrong?" I asked. She extended her arm and handed me the letter. ------- My darling Kelani. I can barely stand to write this, knowing it will be the last thing I get to say to you. I have cancer, and they found it too late to be able to do anything. I waited too long to write this. Now I fear I'll leave something out before I seal it and give it to the missionaries. There is so much to tell you. I so wish I could be there to tell you in person. When you get this you will be a grown woman. The last time you heard from me was when you were eighteen. I write this now with memories of my own eighteenth year stark in my mind. I was young and foolish, and you might have been at eighteen too, so I told you then only who you were, and gave you the option to go to America if you wanted to. I don't know what you chose to do, but I know that by now you are wise enough to learn the rest. The name Denise Mortensen is a lie. I had to change my name because I married foolishly, and when I divorced him, he was so enraged he swore he'd kill me. I was befriended by a girl, a Mormon, who took me with her to Salt Lake City. The Mormons sheltered me and, when my ex-husband showed up in Utah, asking questions, they helped me change my name and sent me to New Zealand, where I operated a house that provided a place for Mormon missionaries to stay while they did their work. I took work as a secretary in a company that took tourists out on boats to see whales. The company was owned by the Maori, and I was exposed daily to strong, handsome young men who had smiles that could melt a woman's heart. I was lonely. I was weak. I became pregnant with you. I loved you from the start, but there was more than one man who might have been the father. Please don't think badly of me for that. I could not resist the smiles ... their joy of living. They were magnificent young men, and they made me feel alive and loved. All of them offered to take me as a wife, once it was known I was with child. But it was possible to choose the wrong man, and so I could not choose. I decided to raise you by myself. I never thought I would get sick. But I did. And now I have so little time before I must go. So I spoke with the elders of the village where the men I thought of as your fathers lived. They told me of Maoritanga, and said you would be raised and cared for by the whole village. I made them promise to let you go when you were eighteen, if you chose to go. I simply tried to make it so you had a chance to grow up in a community where you were loved. But you deserve to know who you really are. My married name was Kathleen Wharton. My maiden name was Kathleen Crawford. I was raised in Ohio. Your grandparents are gone, but I have a brother. When I left Ohio and went into hiding, he was in the Army, stationed overseas. I could not tell him what was happening, because I didn't have his address. I received one letter from him, forwarded to me in Salt Lake City, but the return address was damaged and could not be read. I meant to try to find him, to let him know where we are, and that he has a niece, but I didn't, and now it is too late. Maybe the Army can help you find him. His name is Robert Nathaniel Crawford. He is all you have left of blood kin in America. I hope you can find him, and tell him I'm sorry. I have only two things I can pass along to you. One is my diary. It is silly, but it is all I have left that describes my childhood in any fashion. The other is my graduation bracelet, a gift from your grandparents to me. I will entrust these things to the Mormons, who have been so kind to me. I loved you desperately, my darling, and it tears my heart out that I must leave you now. I will always love you, and watch over you. Your mother. ------- I blinked at the tears filling my eyes. It was signed: Kathleen Renee Crawford, also in flowing script that I recognized, now that I knew whose it was. Kelani offered me the bracelet. I knew what would be inscribed on the inside: Kathleen Renee Crawford, class of '81 "You are my uncle!" groaned Kelani. "This cannot be!" "The other letter," I said, my voice choked with emotion. She peered into the box and, finding nothing, opened the diary. The envelope had gotten wet, which was why the return address was unreadable. I had gone through a phase of using a fountain pen, because I thought it was refined ... special. "It's an apology to her," I said softly. "I was in Germany. I knew her divorce was ugly, and I knew Randy Wharton was a first class asshole. But I wasn't a good brother during the divorce. When I got back from Germany she had disappeared. Then Desert Storm came around, and after that I joined the IG. I kept meaning to find her, but..." Kelani looked up at me, tears running down her cheeks. "When the recruiter told me about working for the government, I thought I might be able to get access to information about my mother. I hoped to find something about her." She blinked rapidly half a dozen times. "I found you instead!" She looked amazed. "You're my Papa! ... My real Papa!" I sat down in a chair. I sighed. "My sister is dead. I waited too long." She stood up, and came to sit on my lap, with her arms around me. We just held each other for a while, mourning together. Finally she pulled back. "What are we going to do?" "About what?" "You're my uncle!" "I'm your husband," I said. "Can we even do that in America?" "We already did," I said. "I would think that with your background, it wouldn't bother you at all." "It just seems odd to think of you as Papa," she said. "Then don't," I said. "I'm not going to think of you as my niece. I can't. You're Kelani. You're my mate, my Aroha Tuatahi. I love you, and I will always love you." She sagged against me. "You're right, of course. I was just shocked, that's all." "You were already shocked," I said, sliding my hand over her bulge. "So we just don't tell anybody?" she asked. "Sounds like a plan to me," I said. "Should I destroy the letter?" "Of course not," I said. "It's all you have left of her." Kelani kissed me, and I felt better, because it was a regular Kelani kiss ... completely normal. "That's not true ... in a way," she said. "Oh yeah?" "She left me something else ... she left me you." ------- The End ------- Posted: 2010-12-01 Last Modified: 2010-12-08 / 08:37:42 am ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------