"Up Close & Personal" (closed)

The morning after the "Mayhem Massacre":

Captain Paula Lee shook her head in dismay as one of her detectives caught her up on what they were learning about the Tererro-Baker Street Boys shoot out. They weren't telling her anything more than what she was hearing from television and internet news outlets, which -- of course -- were getting their information from anonymous sources from within her department.

And she was freezing her ass off out here at 6am of the morning after, dressed to go pick up her sister at the airport. One of the cops from her squad scoped out the mid-thigh length skirt under which were black tights, then asked about her 4 inch heeled boots, "How do you catch a perp' in those things, Captain?"

"I don't, Detective," she snapped in a tone that told him he was treading on thin ice. "I shoot them from where I'm standing. Where's JT?"

Paula looked around for her lead detective, James Tyson.

"He's on it," responded Frank Reed, surprising Paula from behind. He pointed toward the now open roll up doors and James, barely visible in the otherwise shaded building's interior. "He was here when we left last night, and he's here now. I think he may have been here all night, dunno."

"What do you know?" she snapped, shutting him up.

Paula was vexed regarding what had happened here. She had a vested interest in the dealings between the Tererro's, the Baker Street Boys, and their associated individuals and organizations, an interest that was better left unknown and undetected by detective James Tyson.

She looked to Frank Reed, who was wearing a hurt expression. She rolled her eyes, found the roach coach that seemed to follow her officers and detective around from one crime scene to another, and told Frank to go get them a couple of coffees. She watched him walk away and wondered why she kept him around and why she'd fudged his test scores to help him pass the Detective's exam.

Then Paula smiled, remembering what he'd done for her with his mouth last night. Frank had only joined the Squad three weeks earlier, but he'd been going down on Paula's pussy for going on two years now. She'd been perfectly fine with him being an Investigative Researcher two floors below her Squad's own floor. But Frank had given her an ultimatum: let me take the test, or find someone else to lick your clit.

Paula treated him like little more than a go-fer. She was taking her time in clearing him from his probationary period so that he could be assigned a partner and cases. But truth be told, he was a good cop and an even better investigator. And Jesus Christ, could he suck pussy! She knew she had to advance him soon, but Paula hated the idea of Frank slipping away from her control and becoming more of a real cop, as he was destined to become.

The CSI assigned to the case continued his report to Laura. When he finished, she headed away from the others until she was far enough away to inconspicuously pull a burner cell from her jacket pocket.

"It's not here," she said once her party had answered. She listened, then stressed, "It's not here...! No! No! A dirty cop did not take your fucking money...! Jesus! No, I didn't take your money either. Whoever hit these guys, I think-- What? No … no! They were hit! By someone-- No, I don't know by who! If I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we...! I don't know … I don't know … no … no … yes, of course!"

A voice called from the distance, "Captain!"

"I gotta go … yes, yes, I'll keep looking for your fucking money," she growled, "And stay away from this, far far away from this. This is what you pay me for, so, don't get involved."

She looked toward the warehouse and saw JT talking to the CSI. She promised the man on the other end of the line, "I have my best man on the case. He'll find your money … and then … I'll get it back to you."



Tonight, three days later:

Roxy Taylor looked up from the precinct's front desk in time to catch another of the district's female cops heading out of the building and hollered, "Groove!"

Paula slowed, drew and released a deep breath, and turned back to the desk. Upon reaching the desk she said for the umpteenth time, "It's Captain, Sergeant."

Roxy laughed with a dismissive tone as she tossed a padded manila envelope out before Paula. "Yeah, I remember you telling me I'd be calling you Captain one day … back when we were in the Academy and you were copying off my Procedurals test in the back row."

Paula ignored the history lesson, particularly since it was truthful, and asked about the envelope, "What's this?"

"Dunno," Roxy said, already dealing with something else that a foot beat officer had brought up. Signing papers more out of habit than out of in depth review, she told the Captain, "Some bum brought it in an hour ago or so. It's for your boy JT. Don't worry, it's not a bomb. Just a flash drive."

"Detective Tyson you mean?" Paula corrected, already knowing her efforts at maintaining protocol were wasted on the woman who had already reached the highest rank and responsibility she'd ever dreamed of back in their academy days.

Roxy looked back to Paula with a dreamy expression on her face. "Did you see him in those black jeans the other day. My God! I swear, if you looked close enough, and believe me I did--"

"Jesus..." Paula was murmuring as she was turning away already.

"--you could tell even through the denim that he was circumcised--"

"G'night, Sergeant!" Paula called back, trying to block the description. She headed upstairs again using the stairs as she normally did. At the top, you could barely tell that the very fit woman had ascended two flights of stairs, two steps at a time. She dropped the envelope on James's desk, telling a Detective, "Make sure JT sees this when he gets in in the morning."

As she walked away, Paula had no idea that the flash drive contained the names of participants in the laundering of drug sales profits: Tererro Cartel members, Baker Street Boys, three local businessmen, a DEA agent out of New York, and four cops from this very precinct.

For all she knew, Paula "The Groove" Gruber's name was on that list, but she wouldn't know until her lead detective came to work the next morning.

Later Tonight, 3 Days Post Massacre...

Alex had helped her from the tub, and he had hugged her, only to feel her hug him back. “It’s okay Hanna, I’m not letting go...we’re going to make you better...if you let us?” He felt her body, her tiny, way, way too thin body relax, and he smiled, and in the most caring way possible, kissed the top of her head. The moment was too brief, he felt her start to tremble, he knew what it was before she told him, withdrawal. "Take me to bed, Alex," Unlike last night, he knew this wasn’t a proposition, she was about to collapse. "I need to go to bed. Please. And I need a fix. Can you get me a fix. I know I'm asking a lot, please. Just to get me through."

He knew she did, and he knew he couldn’t do it. He took the name of her dealer, scribbled it, with no intention to use it. He swooped her up in his strong arms, cradling her as he might have done an infant, at this moment, she was even more helpless. He laid her down in the bed, still wrapped in the plush, warm towel. Her teeth were chattering as he kissed her cheek. God he hated heroine, it was a savage. “Just lie there Hanna, I am going to get you some help, just hold on!”

He shut the door, after dimming the lights. He wasn’t sure what to do, and then, almost as if someone whispered in his ear, “Katherine!” Hanna’s brother had set them up, almost three months ago. The first date had been great, she was smart, beautiful, sexy, funny, there was nothing not to like. There seemed to be strong mutual interest, they hadn’t had sex, but the kissing was hot. They had planned to go out a few nights later. However, she had an emergency, then he had an out of town story, she had a convention, so on and so on, and the trail went cold, not due to really either person’s fault. Busy people leading busy lives. She was an expert in narcotics, that he remembered. He called her hoping, she picked up on the first ring. “Alex, it’s about time!” Her voice was friendly, teasing, and he thought hopeful. “No, it’s eay past time, I’ve thought of calling you so many times...and there’s no excuse, I really enjoyed our date. Unfortunately though, this isn’t social. Rick’s kid sister found me tonight as I was leaving the paper. She’s a heroine and opeied addict, and she’s in bad shape. She’s going through withdrawal in my...” Katherine cut me off, “You’re lucky, I am walking out of the hospital, let me go grab what I need, I will be there in 15 minutes.” Alex breathed a sigh of relief, He felt like a trapped soldier who had just heard the sound of the cavalty’s Bagel as the cleared the ridge coming to the rescue. “ Katherine thank you!” She laughed, “Rick’s my friend too, plus I knew you were just trying to find an excuse to call me again.”

They hung up laughing and she was actually knocking in thirteen minutes. He answered the door, he just looked at her. “My God, I think I forgot just how naturally beautiful you are.” She smiled at the compliment, “Thank you, you look good two, but maybe this time you remember? So, where’s my patient?” She got right to work. Alex let her in the room, and left her to do what she needed to do. “I’ll be right here, if you have any questions.” After 15 minutes she came out, she had her on an IV, a mixture of saline, meds to take the edge off the withdrawal, and something to help her relax and sleep.

Alex remembered she liked white wine, and poured two glasses of Chardonnay and handed her one as they sat down on the couch. “So, uh, why exactly is she naked?” She smiled. Alex shook his head, “Well that’s a long story, it has been quite a night. Do you have time to hear it?”


There is a moment, right after you cum, when you feel embarrassed. As JT sat there, looking at the beautiful girl still straddling him, her hand and his stomach and chest drenched with his semen, he was basically naked, and she was exactly as she had been when she opened the door. She kissed him as he had asked. A slow, soft, sensuous kiss. His prick was still hard, and he twitched in her hand as he enjoyed it. She almost purred as she spoke to him, she literally had him in the palm of her hand, "Don't move. I'm going to get a warm cloth to clean you up."

As she walked into the kitchen, he was curious if she might steal a little taste of his offering, and if so, what would be her critical review? He didn’t ask, and in seconds she was back. She did as he promised and soon he was as clean as a whistle. Her voice was soft, naturally sultry, "I know you think I'm strange...But just as you promised me that you can make me happy … if you … if you just give me the benefit of the doubt … accept that I'm not fucking with your head..."

He laughed, he wasn’t sure why she didn’t want to be touched. Maybe it was that time of the month? Maybe she was just a giver, or needed to get a feel for a man, before being that vulnerable with him? James was a giver too, and she was beautiful. He so wanted to touch her, but he respected a woman’s wishes. No meant know to him, his Momma had taught him to respect women, he had three younger sisters. “Well, you kinda did fuck with my head, didn’t you?” He hooded down where the head of his cock was still in her hand, and they both laughed.

She stayed on his lap, but released him, the lust of the moment, at least temporarily subsided, she looked at him softly, "If I invited you to stay the night … do you think you could do so without needing to touch me? You know … in the way you've wanted to since the moment you saw me in the market this morning?" He nodded, but didn’t say a word. "I just … I just need to be held. Can you do that? Or … is it time for us to call it a night?" He leaned in and softly kissed her, then leaned back with a gentle smile, “I’d love to hold you...and I won’t try anything, but I would like to hold you in my arms...no, I’d love to hold you in my arms...” he got a spark in his eyes, “that is assuming you can control yourself!”

She got up, and went to her bedroom to change. James saw he had a text from a detective, his CO Paula had left an envelope the detective had put in the top drawer of his desk. He prayed it was some sort of lead. He was angry with himself as to how little real progress he had to show for nearly three full days of relentless work. He pulled back up his boxer briefs, and when she opened the door she looked both cute, and incredibly sexy in a pair of tight little boy shorts and a sports bra. Marla had one spanking little body, fit and curvy and delicious.

He slipped into bed, as she hopped in next to him, she teased, "Can you handle laying next to this without putting your hands all over it?" He did not dignify the taunt with a response, he just opened his arms and let her settle in. Her head on his chest, along with one arm and hand. Her one leg draped across his thigh, he could feel the warmth of her mound as asclaid across him. He ran his fingers through her hair, and then caressed her shoulders, back and arms with soft petting and light tickles as the drifted off to sleep. JT slept as soundly as he had in a long time. When during the night they transitioned to spooning, neither one knew. James was the big spoon, her baddy cradled isn’to his, his strong arm, protectively over the top of her. He was sound asleep, he couldn’t helpl that as he slept, he got morning wood, nor how it was poking into her backside, as she awoke...

Katherine was in the Women's Changing Room when one of her coworkers entered, asking, "You up for a second shift? We could use the help.”

She was just about to say yes since she had nothing better to do. Her social life -- in particular her sex life -- had gone on vacation by itself, and recently there'd been nothing but work and Netflix for her. But then her phone rang, and her lips spread in joy at the Caller ID: Alexander "Missing In Action" Jacobs.

“Alex, it’s about time!”

He made his excuses and told her about his ailing addict friend, and she didn't hesitate to look to the other nurse and shake her head no before telling Alex, “You’re lucky, I am walking out of the hospital, let me go grab what I need, I will be there in 15 minutes.”

She had to slip back into the Secondary Drug Station to snatch up what she needed. What she was doing was considered a social service, and many of the doctors and nurses did it. But there was paperwork to be filled out, which always included the addict's name and her caregiver, in this case Alex, and Katherine seriously didn't want to deal with that right now.

Fifteen minutes to get there, fifteen minutes to get the girl on a drip, and Katherine was standing with Alex and a glass of Chardonnay. As if it was a waste of time and an inconvenience, she told him, "You know, I'm supposed to be binge watching Rake. The original Aussie version, not the American one with Kinnear."

She smiled wide, sipped her drink, and asked “So, uh, why exactly is she naked?”

“Well that’s a long story, it has been quite a night. Do you have time to hear it?”

"I should leave with her on the IV," Katherine answered, glancing back toward the open bedroom door. "So, yeah I guess I do."

They sat in the living room, and as they finished off the bottle of wine, Alex told those parts of the story he wanted to share. Katherine asked for an update on Rick and Christina. "I know as medical colleagues we should keep in touch better than we do, but, well, schedules and life and all that."

In truth, when she'd fallen out of contact with Alex, Katherine had been a bit hesitant to stay connected with the man who'd hooked them up. They followed each other's social media -- not the ridiculous Facebook crap but the medically leaning sites -- and dropped messages, but as far as life conversation, that had essentially faded away.

She asked about his work and what he was working on, and again after Alex had said what he wanted to say, a bit of a silence reigned for a bit. Katherine was studying the reporter for a moment with a sly smirk before she said very bluntly, "If you didn't already have a naked woman in your apartment right now, I might be tempted to take my clothes off and jump your bones."

Marla looked into her closet and drawers and wondered just what was the appropriate wardrobe for sleeping next to a man you weren't going to fuck but who you had just beat off to an amazingly explosive orgasm all over his belly and chest. Wool pajamas would be comfy, she thought with a wide smile.

In the end, she returned to her doorway wearing a sports bra and boy shorts. The fit her curves deliciously. As they slid into the bed, with James in just his boxers, Marla slipped up against him and wrapped an arm about his torso. He felt so good against her, and she was so tempted to just abandon her conviction to finish the night out without having mounted him.

But morning came and she found herself wrapped in his arm, spooning against him, and smiling at the more than obvious erection that was pressing against one of her butt cheeks. She rolled over and -- just as he blinked his eyes open -- planted a quick kiss on him lips before sliding out of bed.

"Don't move, freeze!" she warned playfully with her hands together in a finger gun gesture. She laughed, telling James, "I'm going to shower, alone! And then I'll make you breakfast. But in the meantime--"

She took her armed stance again, this time with one armed hand out as she did her best Dirty Harry impression, "Don't … make my day … punk."

She danced off to the bathroom, realizing only then that her contrary demands had actually been a mix of two of Clint's sayings from two different movies. Oh well, it was still funny. She stripped off her clothes, silently congratulating James for not having tried to remove them from her in the night.

The shower was quick, and when she was getting out, her phone chimed with a text. She opened and read the text, which was a link to an online news article. In it, an anonymous police department source, supported by an also anonymous hospital worker, said that a young Latino man who'd died in the Emergency Room the day before had claimed he was shooting up in the building in which the Mayhem Massacre occurred.

He claimed that that was where he'd taken a bullet that, it turned out, had been a ricocheted fragment of an AR-15 round, the rifle that Marla -- and some of the others -- had been firing. In addition, he'd kept repeating She didn't shoot me, she didn't shoot me, it wasn't her. It wasn't the girl.

In addition, the article said he'd asked two questions that had seemed contradictory: he'd first asked where Hanna was, saying that she -- whoever Hanna was -- had been with him; and then later in his last conscious moments before dying, he'd asked the same question about Howard.

It hadn't made much sense to the anonymous sources of the article. And it wouldn't have unless they'd known that some friends of Hanna Hughes had often called her Howard Hughes because sometimes she'd miraculously come up with dope money when no one else seemed to have a nickel to their name.

Suddenly Marla became concerned. She'd been certain that there hadn't been anyone in the building that night other than the two groups involved. She'd been in the building the night before and the morning of, scouting her routes, placing her weapons, and ensuring there were no squatters. How had she missed civilians in the building.

She had to find out who this Latino man was and whether or not there was in fact a second person there that night, a woman possibly nicknamed Howard.

The end of day three...the beginning of day 4

"I shouldn't leave with her on the IV...So, yeah I guess I do." Alex took a deep sigh. "I've known Hanna since she was 11 maybe 12, and she was the sweetest kid. I don't even remember how she tried heroine, it is amazing all the ways dealers find ways to introduce that poison to kids. I don't think Rick has any idea how far she has slid, I couldn't believe it and I've tried to get her in rehab before. But I'm pretty sure she is now a prostitute....selling her soul for those damned drugs..."

He told the rest of the story, but Katherine got the idea, he was not going to give up on this girl, even if he was pretty sure she had given up on herself. He filled her in on Rick and Christina, they were engaged, and planning to return in the fall to get married. They had fought off dysentery, how hard could marriage be?

He told her about the massacre, with the hours she worked she had heard of it, but had no idea of the magnitude. He did not lead on that Hannah was the only living witness, why put her in that position? There were moments that they just looked at each other, and with each word, each passing moment, all he started to think about was how much he wanted to kiss her, but was there any chance she was thinking the same. That answer came soon enough.

"If you didn't already have a naked woman in your apartment right now, I might be tempted to take my clothes off and jump your bones." She could see the smile on his face. "You do understand the naked girl got that way on her own, and is still naked only because she was shaking too hard to get dressed? You on the other hand...ever since you walked back in this room, I've been trying to figure out..." He closed in, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her in for a soft, and then increasingly more intense and more passionate kiss. "....when and how I could do that!"

Alex closed again, this time the kiss was intense from the very outset...how in the hell had he not figured out how to call her back earlier...the sexual electricity was off the charts, of course, he like her, had way too much pent up energy! He didn't break the kiss but brought his hands down to the hem of the shirt of her scrubs and began to pull it up and over her head...her naked and jumping each other's bones sounded perfect...he hoped she would let him continue...he was just beginning.


He woke to the feel of her lips on his, but it was too short, and she was gone. He had hoped the night might have changed things a bit, and she had a clever set of Clint Eastwood lines, and it wasn't as if he thought they were going to wake up and make love, fuck, whatever, but he did think she would want to cuddle and kiss and enjoy each other a bit. She was holding back, big time, and again he wondered why?

While she showered, he looked around and made coffee. Found some eggs, mushrooms, butter, onions, green pepper and swiss cheese. By the time she walked in he was just about to add the cheese. He looked over his shoulder, "Yep, he can cook too...and there are still talents that you need to see, trust me." Breakfast was light and he told her he hoped their might be a break in the case, he would find out soon enough. She tried to pry, but ultimately respected that he had a job to do.

He had to go home and shower, change and get to the office. She walked him to the door, he turned and pulled her in. "Last night was great, but is there something about me that you don't trust, if this is going somewhere, I need you to trust me, like I do you...but as much as I like you, it can't just be your rules. Trust needs to go both ways. I'd like to see you again...let me know?"

James went home and showered and was in the office by 8 AM. Another cup of coffee and he was at his desk, and then remembered the package. It was a flash drive and he ran it through their scanner to make sure it wasn't full of viruses. It was clean, and...HOLY SHIT. This was another torpedo in the Baker Street Boys-cartel battleship. JT wasn't sure what to do next. There was a small mountain of evidence here, proof of RICO violations, money laundering, crooked cops, politicians, all on the take. He had no idea who to call first? The Feds, Internal Affairs, the District Attorney. He knew the first line of protocol was his boss and he left a voice mail for Paula, "We need to talk immediately! Call me."

He was looking again at the contents of the file, the implications of what he was looking at were incredible. Suddenly his cell phone rang, he assumed it was Paula, but when he looked at the screen it read "Angelina Koustakos" Angelina was a friend of sorts, she owned the neatest little stand in the market. He had been buying her shish kabobs for five years. Two years ago they had a cup of coffee, he heard her life story, how her parents had brought her over when she was less than five years old. He had given her his card and told her if she ever had an issue, she had a friend in the department.

The call was interesting, when she went home last night, she found she had an envelope and it had $200,000 and a note in it. She was thrilled and scared, and she needed advice. He knew her son had been killed by the Baker Boys, and the coincidence was odd to say the least. He asked her to bring it in, he would take a look, but she should take it...and do something good with it.

He hung up the phone. He also was supposed to see Alex later that morning at his apartment, he had "huge news". New information was pouring in, and he needed to connect dots...so many dots!

Alex with Katherine Gibson:

Katherine was greatly enjoying the conversation with Alex, even if some of it was of a tragic nature. She saw her own share of drug related tragedy in her job, and sometimes it amazed her that she hadn't seen such horror within her own family. How had the Gibson Family been so lucky when so many other families hadn't?

After her suggestive comment about getting naked with him, Katherine was very quickly in Alex's arms. It had been so long coming, and when he reached to begin undressing her, she lifted her arms to allow her scrubs top right up over her head. She resumed the kissing Alex had begun and began to work him out of his own shirt when suddenly she stopped and backed away from him.

"We can't," she said with disappointment. She glanced toward the guest room door, but then told Alex, "No, not because of Hanna."

She laughed and blushed, then explained bluntly, "It's been a long time since I've been with a man or even thought I was going to be with one and … well … I'm a mess..."

Katherine's hands were together just below her generous bosom and their basic, comfortable, working bra, and she half pointed a finger downward and finished, "...down there."

She laughed again, nervous and happy and embarrassed, and she took Alex into her arms and held him while she kissed him, passionately but not as hungrily as before. She begged, "Not tonight. Please? I want our first time to be beautiful, and trust me--"

Katherine laughed again, adding, "--I'm not beautiful right now. Please, Alex. I want to be with you so badly. Thursday night. I don't work Friday, do you?"

She had no idea what kind of schedule an internet reporter kept, and she didn't know whether or not his new story was a life-sucking-bitch, like some could be. She kissed him again, pressed her lower body into his -- she could feel his erection so conspicuously -- and promised, "You won't be sorry."


Marla opened the bathroom door and was flooded with the smell of breakfast. She smiled, then laughed. When was the last time a man had made her breakfast after a night of sex? Oh yeah, Idlib, when she was looking for a contact who'd disappeared after a gas attack. She donned an oversized tee shirt and a pair of loose fitting running shorts -- each with nothing underneath -- and made her way out to the kitchen door. Marla just stood there watching James finish before he finally caught sight of her.

"Yep, he can cook too...and there are still talents that you need to see, trust me."

"I bet," she said with a devilish smirk. They ate and chatted, and when he was leaving and told her she needed to trust him, Marla said, "I do trust you. I just … there're some things I have to work out. I was fucking with your head last night, JT. Either of them."

She laughed and kissed him before continuing, "I thought I was ready to make love to you, but..."

"I'd like to see you again...let me know?"

"Me, too," she said before giving him more of a see you later, honey kiss than a put your cock in me now one. "I'll text you about lunch or something. Promise."


Paula was sitting in a back booth in an out of the way café in a neighborhood far from her District, having breakfast with her Tererro contact when her phone chimed with a call, then a voice mail, both from JT. She would listen to it later. Right now she was doing her best to keep her associate happy and, thus, keep her head on her shoulders.

They'd been arguing back and forth -- quietly, inconspicuously -- about the Mayhem Massacre, which some of the Press was now calling the Mayor's Massacre for his inability to solve the growing drug-related crime in his city. Paula was in a tough spot, because as a cop it was her job to help the Mayor solve crime, while as a well compensated associate of the Tererro's, it was her job to ensure that they didn't find their own arrests as part of the solution.

"We found our money," the Tererro contact suddenly said, deep into the conversation.

Paula just stared in disbelief. She asked with confusion, "You found … your money? And you're just now telling me this?"

"It's on the street."

Again, Paula stared, dumbfounded. "Whaddaya mean it's on the street? $7 million dollars … on the streets."

"Not all of it," the man continued. To Paula he continued, "Whoever stole our money is spreading it around the city … donating it."

He explained that the grapevine had uncovered half a dozen people either with big mouths or radically altered spending habits. Marla's notes had warned about such, but apparently some of the recipients of her goodwill hadn't gotten the message.

"Captain, we don't care about the money," he said in a casual tone. "We spend $7 million on jet and boat fuel each month bringing in our product."

As if to demonstrate, as the waitress delivered his third espresso, he pressed a $100 bill into her palm, gave her a flirty wink, and told her to buy something nice for herself. She smiled broadly, winked back, gave Paula a scrutinizing, even somewhat jealous glare, and departed.

Watching the waitress's shapely ass as it left, he continued with Paula, "We only want to know who hit us. And that's your job."

They finished their conversation with Paula promising to find the people behind this. She left, gaining another dirty look from the barely legal waitress who -- though she wouldn't know -- would be naked with the Tererro contact later that day on her way to eventually becoming his well compensated play thing.

Back at the District, Paula ran quickly through tasks and contacts and phone calls trying to get caught up and eventually found herself calling JT into her office. It was barely past 10am and she was pouring two short whiskeys as she asked, "Where the fuck are we with this Massacre."

Alex & Katherine, Paula & JT

Alex was concerned he was moving too fast, she had probably been kidding, and here he was moving in, taking her in his arms, and barely moments later, starting to peel her top of over her head. He backed off his kiss, only a second, and was beyond delighted when she raised her slender, toned, and sexy arms over her head. It was a simple and submissive gesture, but it turned him on more than the most provocative dirty talk.

He let out a part sigh, a part moan, when she reached and started to undo his buttons, this was really happening?!?! Then, as suddenly as it started, it all stopped. "We can't," My eyes lowered, and I felt the wind get sucked from my sails. Damn professional ethics, I thought, perhaps we just kill here...who would know? The thoughts that go through your mind when you haven't had sex, let alone sex with a woman like Katherine, in what had to be going on six months. "No, not because of Hanna." Okay, now he was confused, then why were they hitting the breaks? He stayed silent, looking bewildered.

"It's been a long time since I've been with a man or even thought I was going to be with one and … well … I'm a mess..." 'Huh...' she looked amazing, stunning, better in scrubs then many women would I a full gown. Then she pointed and his eyes traveled down, "...down there." 'AH...' Hmmm, this was a challenge. "It's been a long time for me too...so long..." How could he explain, in the mood he was in, he would gladly copulate a bird's nest, go down on it even, much through the sticks and straw, as long as that nest was between her legs.

He was trying to find the words, but instead they kissed again, and it was good, but the heat had been turned from scorching to simmer, he wanted to turn the knob back up, "Not tonight. Please? I want our first time to be beautiful, and trust me----I'm not beautiful right now. Please, Alex. I want to be with you so badly. Thursday night. I don't work Friday, do you?"

He leaned a bit back, and smiled and just stared at her and as he did, he knew, she was worth waiting for. "You don't know how much I don't want to stop...how much I want to keep going, and going and going....Okay, Thursday...I want it to be special too, but all I need for that is you...but, if you want dinner, dancing, anything you name it....as long as we come back home together. I have Friday morning off, so we have all night...I do TV on the six o'clock news and have to be in the studio by 3:30...but my Friday night is then free...in case you want a twofer?" He winked and teased, MY GOD he wanted her. She kissed him and pressed in, tormenting the poor man, in such a good way, "You won't be sorry." Of that, he had no doubt.

Hanna screamed out, and Katherine put on her top and went in and adjusted the drip level. She stayed an hour longer, constantly tweaking the levels, but when sh left, Hanna was sleeping soundly. It was nearly 2 AM, and they kissed on last time, "Thursday, I can't wait...and Katherine....thank you!"


JT tried to focus on work, on the information in front of him, but he was frustrated he couldn't reach Paula, and he was replaying his departure from Marla. "I thought I was ready to make love to you, but..." BUT...but what, I'm not really attracted to you...She said she wasn't fucking with him, but all she seemed to do was fuck with him. He had never been a game player, never big on trying to guess what someone was thinking. He wanted to give it a try, but if she kept pulling him in, just to push him away...well then...that just wasn't him. Maybe she was too young for him? He stopped thinking, they weren't in a relationship yet, it had only been one date...RELAX...he'd see if she called, the ball was in her court, but damn she was sexy!

Paula was a loose canon in a lot of ways, sometimes James liked it, other times it drove him crazy. He saw her pouring the two whiskeys, "I hope those are both for you?" he said with an obvious bit of disgust in his voice. "For fuck's sake Paula, it's 10 AM!" They had that kind of relationship, respect and a comfort with calling each other out. "Where the fuck are we with this Massacre." It was a fair question, she had given him plenty of rope, and so far, at least as far as she knew, he was striking out. It still pissed him off. "Well if you answered your god damned phone or at least returned my calls you'd know!"

They stared each other down for a minute, the pressure was getting to both of them. Then he closed, their was always a strong, natural attraction between them, and with the tension high, hormones were flying. He smiled, "This case is about to get a whole lot bigger. A whole lot! That package you were handed last night...by the way, any idea who delivered it?...Anyway there was a flash drive in there...Paula, you won't believe what was in there...I mean bank accounts....dirty politicians, dirty cops ...all on either the Terrero or Baker Boy's payrolls...some folks in this precinct...the money they lost in the massacre according to these records is nothing...I called the DA, they have already frozen $107 million in off shore and numbered accounts...people are going down here...I am sorry, I did try to call you, multiple times...but I had to move, we had to get that money tied down...those mother fuckers are going to feel this...feel it bad...and when people get that mad they make mistakes, head's roll...you know the drill...here, let me sow you what I've got...the DA has an encrypted version already as does Internal Affairs and the FBI...they said a grand jury could get called as early as this week...

She looked over his shoulder as he brought up the file...the Terrero's were careful not to let the cops know which of them had turned, they felt it would make them sloppy. She didn't seem surprised by the names on the list...or the names that weren't. Suddenly there was a knock on the door...Jillian Cassidy, the sexy, long legged Federal prosecutor walked in, her handsome junior attorney with her...."Good morning Paula, JT...well this case just got way more interesting, didn't it?"

Paula with James; Jillian.

As soon as James began to explain what was on the flash drive, Paula began to panic. What were the chances she was on it? Pretty good, she feared. She'd been in the Tererro's pocket for more than a decade! She drained her tumbler of the shot, then drained the one James had passed on.

But as she scanned down the list of names as he scrolled down the accounting lines. She knew almost all of them, and like James had said, this was big. She pointed a couple of times in shock, saying I knew he was dirty or No way, her?

The knock on the door caused the tense Paula to nearly leap out of her skin. She let a breath escape, not having even realized she was holding it, then crossed around behind her deck to close the door as she asked, "Jillian, you're already up on this, I presume?"

The Prosecutor, the CO, and the Detective got right to it, talking about what they knew, what they didn't, what they assumed, and what they needed to find out.

"This flash drive, it came from the warehouse shooting, JT?" she asked James, unaware yet that it had simply been dropped in his lap. After he explained the source, she asked, "And we trust this...? Verification? Or have you had time to look into yet?"

They discussed what was needed to ensure that they didn't get caught up in a reputation-destroying hoax of Biblical proportions. The Force, the County DA, and the Feds were still reeling from a scandal a couple years earlier that had involved an over eager CSI who'd fabricated evidence in a case against a Federal Judge. Fourteen people had lost their jobs by the time the investigation finished just six weeks ago, and three of those people -- a cop, a prosecutor, and that very CSI -- were awaiting sentencing for the crimes of which they'd been found guilty.

Paula's phone chimed, and she excused herself from the conversation. After she left the room, Jillian looked to James with a bit of a hungry expression and sly smirk. They'd very nearly had a thing some time back, but there had been a misunderstanding about what she'd wanted from him. James had heard that Jillian might have had a thing for his reporter friend, Alex.

She'd tried to explain that what she wanted at the time was to date both of them, but their wires had gotten crossed. James had heard I want to date you and I want to date Alex, and when he passed, Jillian had assumed James didn't want to put his friend in the position of a love triangle.

The misunderstanding had been that Jillian hadn't been asking to date them both separately. She'd wanted to date them together! As going out in public as a trio, going dancing as a trio, and going to bed as a trio … as in ménage à trois. But it hadn't happened, and she began dating someone else, and she'd simply never tried to explain herself to James.

"So, whaddaya say we get together tonight over drinks," she suggested with that sly smile that she knew he would understand as meaning more than paperwork and case files. "And you can tell me more about this … what're they calling it, the Mayor's Massacre?"

She laughed. She'd never liked Austin's Mayor, and had even contemplating running against him in the upcoming election. If she could make some movement on this case, she just might seal the election for herself. Then it was the Governorship, then a Senatorial race, then who knows … Attorney General or even POTUS.

As she listened to his answer, she shifted her position on the desk against which she was leaning, causing the slit in her dress to show a leg all the way to above midthigh.

Marla, after JT left:

No sooner had James left then Marla was at her laptop reading the email about the junkie supposedly killed at the Massacre. She called the hospital on a burner and -- pretending to be family -- asked some questions about Juan. They couldn't tell Marla anything more than she'd already read due to privacy concerns.

She headed down to the hospital to ask about him, the mysterious Hanna, and the even more mysterious Howard. Again, nothing of value. She finally gave up on this quest and decided upon a different tact: she went looking for writer of the article, who just happened to sit in the desk across the aisle from one Alex Jacobs.

Jillian, James, Paula...and Introducing Carlos Estoya

James knew she would be coming and they would be working close together. Few women made him less comfortable or more horn then Jillian Cassidy. They almost had a history, the first night they had spent together at a club, he thought they were going to make history, perhaps even that night. It was a Saturday night, almost three months ago, James and his good friend and former fraternity brother Alex Jacobs had decided they had worked enough hours that week, month and year and deserved a night out. They both loved dancing, and without going into details, knew their cocks were getting way too familiar with their own right hands, rather than the warm mouth, soft touch or tender cunt, of an attractive woman.

Dress shirts, nice pants, they had agreed to meet at LIT, one of Austin's swankier night spots. Their shirts untucked, they were sitting at the bar Alex was drinking a beer, while JT swirled his bourbon on the rocks. Suddenly James felt a hand on his back, but it was up, inside his shirt, "Good evening detective, imagine finding you here?" JT felt the purr of the hot DA's voice in his ear, but as he turned toward Alex, the first thing James saw was the woman standing behind him, her almost as hot friend, Kathy.

Although bi, with a strong preference for the female side, Kathy was similarly sliding her hand up Alex's shirt, and JT watched him arch his back, unwittingly mimicking exactly James’ own action. JT swiveled on his stool and with her hand still inside his shirt, it too swung around until James was facing the stunning brunette, her palm now directly over the nipple, attached to his well sculpted pecs. "Find something you like Jillian?" James used her name with an heir of familiarity they had not really achieved from a professional sense, but their current position was far from professional.

The night had gone on to hot dancing, kissing in corners, and out on the floor. The two girls liked to sandwich a man, and more than once he felt a hand go down his pants and fondle his hard prick, and was quite certain it hadn't always been the same hand. As he and Alex got drinks, they discussed accelerating their exit, JT taking home and bedding the brunette, and Alex the strawberry blonde. However, as they walked back, he overheard Jillian, "Fuck that Alex is hot too, I can almost feel him in my ass already!" Little did JT know, she had already proclaimed that he would already be occupying her vagina, or that Kathy would be straddling her mouth. Both men looked at each other, they were too good of friends to fight over any one girl, and Alex felt genuinely bad for how his friend had just been dissed after having been thoroughly cock teased for the last two hours!

As Jillian looked over his shoulder, he felt her breath on his neck and as much as he hated himself for it, he knew his cock was raging hard. Paula got a call and was surprisingly urgent in her need to respond and left them alone in the room. Jillian took the opportunity to prop herself up on the desk, and made quite the show of sitting down and crossing her legs, smiling the same sort of wicked smile she had flashed as he spun in his bar stool that night! "So, whaddaya say we get together tonight over drinks,...And you can tell me more about this … what're they calling it, the Mayor's Massacre?"

He looked up, a bit of fire, desire, mixed with anger in his eyes, "Are you sure you'd want that...you know, Alex won't be there?" His words had a hiss to them, but she laughed them off. Fuck, she was so confident and sexy, and he wanted to fuck her, hard, let her feel the man she had so easily dismissed last time. "Oh, I think we will be okay...plus I have something I think I want to clear up...how does 8 work?" She winked and recrossed her long, gorgeous legs. He wondered if her wording, "behind us" was explicitly referencing her statement that night about wanting his good friend in her, clearly beautiful and ever so tight, ass! He heard Paula walking back, "Sure, 8 works, but shhh about this." He brought his index finger to his mouth quickly and saw Jillian nod, she obviously understood discretion. She had quite the good reputation that she carefully maintained, despite being the wanton alley cat he knew her to be.

Paula came back in and he changed the topic, despite a quick thought about how enjoyable these two women might be to have in bed with him together. "You asked about verification, I haven't had much time, but here is what I know. Teh amounts in the bank accounts are to the penny, and the account in Miami, as an informant for the MPD, and under quick pressure, he gave up that at least that account belongs to the Tererro's. Honestly that is good enough for me to believe much if not all of this is real. I assume we set up tails on the individual listed here, but who does it, it wouldn't take much for some honest cop to loop his friend in and give them warning? IA (internal affairs) is going to have to know...and Jillian, who do you want to talk to in justice?"

He looked at Paula, she was usually so cool, but right now, looked a bit like a deer in the headlights. "Are you okay boss? Was there something that happened on that call? Do you need a minute?" Little did he know, she needed a lot more than that.


Carlos Estoya had come to the Statesman from the Des Moines dispatch. He had been a reporter for ten years, but this was big time and in working with and under Alex he felt like very much the fledgling cub reporter he had once been. The Mayor's Massacre was the biggest thing he had ever worked on, and Alex Jacobs had been unbelievably generous in sharing his sources, all but one that was, which is why Alex was out.

When they got the tip on dead junkie, Carlos had called Alex, but had not gotten a reply. He had been told to run with it, and he did, his first big story at the large paper, but now he was back at his desk, trying to think through how to possibly find this Hanna or Howard or both of them. His head was down, trying to think of local junkie sources of Alex he might tap into when he heard her. "I'm looking for a Carlos Estoya, is he here?" His head popped up, no one had ever come in asking for him, and certainly no one who looked like that! It was a woman, young beautiful, she didn't look like a junkie, but was there any way that while he was trying to figure out how to search for Hanna, she might have found him?

Marla King (as Holly Wilson) with Carlos Estoya

Without looking up from her keyboard, a Copy Clerk pointed Marla toward a desk in the middle of the busy newsroom. She still wouldn't have been certain where she was going if it hadn't been that only one of the desks was occupied, the rest of the reporters off doing whatever wherever.

Carlos Estoya looked up at her and donned an expression that was familiar to her. She smiled; generally speaking, she was tickled when a good looking man -- or even an attractive woman -- gave her that approving look.

"Hi, Carlos Estoya?" she asked, offering out a hand. After he confirmed, she said, "Holly. Holly Wilson."

She took the chair next to his desk, then weaved her tale. "A friend of mine … old friend actually, haven't seen her in years, unfortunately. Her name is Hanna."

Marla didn't have a surname for the missing female junkie but she'd read Carlos's article repeatedly and took a stab at what he would ultimately find to be true. "Hanna Hughes. She's been missing for years. I talked to her parents a while back, and they said the last place they know she was for certain was right here in Austin. She, um … she got involved with heroine, and ... well, I read your article … and I was thinking that maybe she might be the Hanna you were looking for 'cause she mentioned a friend named Juan the last time she talked to her parents. I … I heard the guy at the hospital, Juan … I heard he died of a drug overdose?"

She knew the young Latino had died of a bullet wound, but Marla didn't want to sound too informed. They chatted for a bit about what he knew and what he didn't, and as she stood to leave, Marla asked, "If I gave you my phone number, do you think … well, could you keep me up on what you learn about Hanna. It would be … well … her parents--"

A tear welled in Marla left eye and ran down her cheek. She began to speak again, let the words get caught on a single sob, then finished, "They'd be grateful … and … and so would I."

She offered out her hand again, and this time Marla held Carlos's just a tad longer, as if wanting him to think she was being a bit intimate with him. She was, of course. She'd already shown James she wasn't above using her feminine wiles to make a contact. Carlos might very well become a valuable one as well.

Paula and Jillian with JT

When James asked if she was alright, Paula responded without really considering the question, "Yeah, sure, of course."

The call she'd taken had been a seemingly meaningless call from a friend which had actually been a coded message for her to call her Tererro contact back on her other phone, the burner.

What they'd had to tell her wasn't pretty: they'd sent a Fixer out to speak to one of the people who'd been given an envelope filled with $200,000 of their stolen money, the inquiry had become an interrogation, and the man's attempt to flee had become a fatal accident when the man ran across the road and got hit by a UPS truck.

"Jillian, can I speak to you," Paula asked, gesturing that they needed to leave for some privacy. To her Detective she said, "JT, stick to this. Do what you do best."

Paula headed out, but before she left, Jillian leaned over close to James and said, "I'm free Saturday night. There's a new club in midtown. You may have heard of it … Kitty Kitty Kitty. And JT … why don't you invite your friend Alex."

Jillian checked to see if Paula was looking her way, and when she saw the Captain involved in a conversation, she leaned in closer and took James's ear lobe between her front teeth and bit it hard enough to get a pained reaction from him. Then, with a smile and a laugh, she turned and left, calling back, "I'll meet the two of you at the door."

Kitty Kitty Kitty was surely an establishment the Detective had heard of by now, despite having only opened 6 weeks ago. It was, essentially, a sex club for patrons who arrived in threesomes or above. Jillian had a membership, which would be needed for her to get her minimum of two guests inside with her.

You need to clear out your PMs.

Marla

After she'd finished talking with Carlos and was she was leaving the Austin American Statesman, Marla caught an image on the muted television on the wall in the lobby, and her stomach turned over at the familiar name under the image of a corpse on the ground covered by a plastic sheet.

"Can you turn that up?" she asked the woman behind the visitors desk.

The woman didn't have control over the television's controls and just shook her head. Marla hurried outside to check the news on her phone but didn't find anything of value, then looked at her social media feeds. She searched her Twitter, and sure enough she found a Tweet with a couple of hash tags she followed:


Oh my God, Gregory, Marla thought to herself as she found more Tweets and then, finally, an online news article that showed Parker's home in the background, the very place where she had delivered an envelope of $400,000 two days earlier, twice the payment to others because of his loss of four family members in a house fire for which the Baker Street Boys were responsible. She'd warned every recipient of the Tererro's money to keep the compensation to themselves and to avoid attention by spending the cash frivolously or in large, unusual payments. What did you do, Gregory, to attract attention?

She got an Uber to Parker's general neighborhood, then walked past the house without stopping or even seeming to show the scene unfolding there much attention. Her decision to be inconspicuous turned out to be a good idea as she spotted at least three sets of men who appeared to watching the crowd for the face or faces that might be responsible for the Massacre.

Marla went home, opened a bottle of wine, and drank it in its entirety while soaking in the bathtub and blaming herself for the man's death. How could you be so stupid, Marla? she asked herself repeated.