CutiePie1997
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This is a dead thread. We have moved on to other things.
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"Up Close & Personal" (closed)
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Homerun2611
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James (JT) Tyson
James "JT" Tyson had been working every source he had on the street, and every source any of his men had too. Six months ago, despite being only 28 years old, he had been named lead detective of the APD Narcotics Unit. In his blood he was a Longhorn, but his masters in criminal justice was from A&M, and the teasing he got about being an Aggie from his fellow UT alums was never ending.
Austin Texas was now as high tech as Seattle or Boston and with that influx of young wealth over the last 25 years, coupled with being the home of the powerful Texas State Capital and the 50,000 plus student population of the University of Texas, had culminated in an increasingly high drug trade, particularly high grade marijuana, cocaine and heroin. Thanks to his degree, and the fact that narcotics was a young man's game, he had been able to rise to the top quickly.
JT had been been up and down 6th Street all week working every piece of shit corner drug dealer he knew trying to find out what the Baker Boys had been telling them about the timing of fresh product. It had been widely rumored that this was the week the cartel lieutenants, well at least some key lieutenants of the Mexico subsidiary of the Columbian parent organization....He stopped and laughed, since when did cocaine running sound more like a Fortune 500 international conglomerate than the scum sucking pieces of shit they were? He guessed it was when they started diversifying their operations to better deliver smaller shipments more frequently through US and Western European borders, and their US sales alone topped a billion, and they were just one of the South American based parent cartels pushing their poison into our borders.
They were trying to tail as many of the Baker Boys as possible and had been for the last two weeks, but there were too many of them, and it appeared as if some of their Dallas and Houston operations were in town as well. But tonight so far was proving as unsuccessful as every other night had been. The conventional thinking was the meeting would likely take place out on one of the yachts on Lake Travis when it happened, so JT was a good 15 minutes away, even by siren from traveling down Lamar Boulevard, when the report came of shots fired in the warehouse district, in the heart of the city along the north shore of Lake Austin.
"Fuck!" he screamed as he put the bubble gum machine on the hood of his mustang, but 20 minutes later by the time he showed up on the crime scene the press both TV and print, and all the god damned You Tubers were already all over. His men already had the area zoned off, almost four square blocks as sentry and the the main meeting had all been attacked. He saw one of his detectives, "How many dead?" he asked. Tony Giancarlo had worked the warehouse district for the last three years, no one knew it better. "Twelve dead and nineteen injured...the worst of the injured have already been taken to the hospital, but those three are only suffering minor gun shot wounds and scrapes.....Boss, they are all saying they only saw one person shooting at them....and that's not all, they left the drugs!" JT shook his head, "what about the cash, their had to be massive cash?" Tony shook his head, "that's gone."
JT looked around, the crowd was growing, and he saw his buddy and former fraternity brother, Alex Jacobs, now the crime editor of the Austin American Statesman. Alex was trying to get his attention. JT waved him off, he had work to do, there would be no discussions and certainly no exclusives right now. He started to head over to talk to the wounded, all three were Baker Boys, he recognized two. "No fucking way one person did all this...not unless they were Superman...." was all he could think as he went to perform initial questioning of the men sitting there licking their wounds and trying to figure out themselves, what the fuck had just happened?
James "JT" Tyson had been working every source he had on the street, and every source any of his men had too. Six months ago, despite being only 28 years old, he had been named lead detective of the APD Narcotics Unit. In his blood he was a Longhorn, but his masters in criminal justice was from A&M, and the teasing he got about being an Aggie from his fellow UT alums was never ending.
Austin Texas was now as high tech as Seattle or Boston and with that influx of young wealth over the last 25 years, coupled with being the home of the powerful Texas State Capital and the 50,000 plus student population of the University of Texas, had culminated in an increasingly high drug trade, particularly high grade marijuana, cocaine and heroin. Thanks to his degree, and the fact that narcotics was a young man's game, he had been able to rise to the top quickly.
JT had been been up and down 6th Street all week working every piece of shit corner drug dealer he knew trying to find out what the Baker Boys had been telling them about the timing of fresh product. It had been widely rumored that this was the week the cartel lieutenants, well at least some key lieutenants of the Mexico subsidiary of the Columbian parent organization....He stopped and laughed, since when did cocaine running sound more like a Fortune 500 international conglomerate than the scum sucking pieces of shit they were? He guessed it was when they started diversifying their operations to better deliver smaller shipments more frequently through US and Western European borders, and their US sales alone topped a billion, and they were just one of the South American based parent cartels pushing their poison into our borders.
They were trying to tail as many of the Baker Boys as possible and had been for the last two weeks, but there were too many of them, and it appeared as if some of their Dallas and Houston operations were in town as well. But tonight so far was proving as unsuccessful as every other night had been. The conventional thinking was the meeting would likely take place out on one of the yachts on Lake Travis when it happened, so JT was a good 15 minutes away, even by siren from traveling down Lamar Boulevard, when the report came of shots fired in the warehouse district, in the heart of the city along the north shore of Lake Austin.
"Fuck!" he screamed as he put the bubble gum machine on the hood of his mustang, but 20 minutes later by the time he showed up on the crime scene the press both TV and print, and all the god damned You Tubers were already all over. His men already had the area zoned off, almost four square blocks as sentry and the the main meeting had all been attacked. He saw one of his detectives, "How many dead?" he asked. Tony Giancarlo had worked the warehouse district for the last three years, no one knew it better. "Twelve dead and nineteen injured...the worst of the injured have already been taken to the hospital, but those three are only suffering minor gun shot wounds and scrapes.....Boss, they are all saying they only saw one person shooting at them....and that's not all, they left the drugs!" JT shook his head, "what about the cash, their had to be massive cash?" Tony shook his head, "that's gone."
JT looked around, the crowd was growing, and he saw his buddy and former fraternity brother, Alex Jacobs, now the crime editor of the Austin American Statesman. Alex was trying to get his attention. JT waved him off, he had work to do, there would be no discussions and certainly no exclusives right now. He started to head over to talk to the wounded, all three were Baker Boys, he recognized two. "No fucking way one person did all this...not unless they were Superman...." was all he could think as he went to perform initial questioning of the men sitting there licking their wounds and trying to figure out themselves, what the fuck had just happened?
CutiePie1997
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Three days later:
Marla King made her way slowly through an Austin Farmer's Market, checking out and sometimes buying the local fruits, vegetables, berries, and mushrooms. She loved to cook from scratch, and tonight she thought she might fire up her new gas grill and do a little barbequing.
Shopping wasn't the only reason Marla was in this particular market, though. She wound up at a very busy stand where a woman just short of her 40s was selling shish kabobs and curries made from organically-fed goats. The woman offered Marla a sample, then turned to help another customer who wanted a kabob for each of her three children.
As the woman was occupied, Marla inconspicuously dropped a heavy, sealed, manila envelope over the edge of the booth's back counter, right down into a crate half filled with supplies. Certain that no one had seen her, Marla turned away to continue shopping. Over the next two hours, she would drop, slip, slide, or toss six more envelopes into boxes, bags, crates, or other places where the packages would be found at some point later in the day.
Each had a simple note inside:
In addition to the note were 20 neatly stacked bundles of $100 bills, 100 per bank strap, for a total of $200,000.
As the note stated, Marla knew that mere money couldn't replace the husbands and wives, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, friends and lovers that these people and the other twenty people to whom she'd donated had lost over the previous months due to overdoses, drive by shootings, gang-on-gang violence, and more. But it was all she had to offer them.
Or not.
The ambush at the warehouse had been for them as much as it had been for her. She'd lost loved ones recently, and they'd been lost to actions taken by the very criminals she'd attacked three days earlier. Her attack on the Tererro Cartel, and the Baker Street Boys had been random in any way. Marla had planned it for more than a year. It had gone well, too...
...all except for the part where one or more of the survivors had seen her. Marla had big plans for Austin's drug pushing and crime committing population. And she couldn't do all she wanted if a description of her got out or, worse yet, an image of her did. Marla had contemplated wearing something to cover her face, but she'd feared a potential loss of peripheral vision.
Oh well, it was done. Three days had passed, and the Press didn't know what to make of this crazy story about a single person attacking more than 30 heavily armed men and then fleeing with millions of dollars in a green duffel. One news outlet had already dubbed Marla The Lone Rager after a confidential source claimed that one of the injured suspects had described their attacker as Totally insane, mad, loco, to think she could get away with what she did.
The Lone Rager, Marla mused as she bought a coffee at a push cart, then found a seat at a table under a sun umbrella. She'd never had a nickname she liked. She wasn't sure she liked this one either. It implied that she'd acted out of rage. She had, of course. But, it wasn't as though she didn't have justification.
Marla sipped at her coffee and looked about the marketplace. At one point, she thought she caught a young, handsome man checking her out. After he'd looked away, she checked him out, too. And then she realized that she recognized him. She rose and crossed to stand over his table, meeting his eyes and smile.
"Haven't I seen you before?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "On the internet. That thing, that shooting. Those gang guys. I thought I saw you in a video shot."
Marla King made her way slowly through an Austin Farmer's Market, checking out and sometimes buying the local fruits, vegetables, berries, and mushrooms. She loved to cook from scratch, and tonight she thought she might fire up her new gas grill and do a little barbequing.
Shopping wasn't the only reason Marla was in this particular market, though. She wound up at a very busy stand where a woman just short of her 40s was selling shish kabobs and curries made from organically-fed goats. The woman offered Marla a sample, then turned to help another customer who wanted a kabob for each of her three children.
As the woman was occupied, Marla inconspicuously dropped a heavy, sealed, manila envelope over the edge of the booth's back counter, right down into a crate half filled with supplies. Certain that no one had seen her, Marla turned away to continue shopping. Over the next two hours, she would drop, slip, slide, or toss six more envelopes into boxes, bags, crates, or other places where the packages would be found at some point later in the day.
Each had a simple note inside:
Nothing can bring your loved one back.
Nothing can fix that kind of hurt.
But maybe you can do something
with this that will help you, your family,
and your community ease the pain.
Nothing can fix that kind of hurt.
But maybe you can do something
with this that will help you, your family,
and your community ease the pain.
In addition to the note were 20 neatly stacked bundles of $100 bills, 100 per bank strap, for a total of $200,000.
As the note stated, Marla knew that mere money couldn't replace the husbands and wives, sons and daughters, mothers and fathers, friends and lovers that these people and the other twenty people to whom she'd donated had lost over the previous months due to overdoses, drive by shootings, gang-on-gang violence, and more. But it was all she had to offer them.
Or not.
The ambush at the warehouse had been for them as much as it had been for her. She'd lost loved ones recently, and they'd been lost to actions taken by the very criminals she'd attacked three days earlier. Her attack on the Tererro Cartel, and the Baker Street Boys had been random in any way. Marla had planned it for more than a year. It had gone well, too...
...all except for the part where one or more of the survivors had seen her. Marla had big plans for Austin's drug pushing and crime committing population. And she couldn't do all she wanted if a description of her got out or, worse yet, an image of her did. Marla had contemplated wearing something to cover her face, but she'd feared a potential loss of peripheral vision.
Oh well, it was done. Three days had passed, and the Press didn't know what to make of this crazy story about a single person attacking more than 30 heavily armed men and then fleeing with millions of dollars in a green duffel. One news outlet had already dubbed Marla The Lone Rager after a confidential source claimed that one of the injured suspects had described their attacker as Totally insane, mad, loco, to think she could get away with what she did.
The Lone Rager, Marla mused as she bought a coffee at a push cart, then found a seat at a table under a sun umbrella. She'd never had a nickname she liked. She wasn't sure she liked this one either. It implied that she'd acted out of rage. She had, of course. But, it wasn't as though she didn't have justification.
Marla sipped at her coffee and looked about the marketplace. At one point, she thought she caught a young, handsome man checking her out. After he'd looked away, she checked him out, too. And then she realized that she recognized him. She rose and crossed to stand over his table, meeting his eyes and smile.
"Haven't I seen you before?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "On the internet. That thing, that shooting. Those gang guys. I thought I saw you in a video shot."
Homerun2611
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JT went to the men and pulled them away from each other to interview individually, but the accounts were remarkably similar. They had all heard gunshots, then multiple voices had created confusion, even shooting at each other, but only one of the three had seen any shooters at all, confessing they had hid behind boxes, one having a grazing shot in his shoulder. However, one had, and while it had been confusing, he was sure he had only seen one, and he was ALMOST positive it was a woman.
James had then walked the sites where all the bodies had fallen. He reviewed the ways they had been killed. If it was a single assassin, it was very odd to see anyone use such a wide variety of weapons. James doubted it was a single shooter, although forensics would soon show that at least all the bullets taken from the bodies and found on the floors, came from the same semi-automatic. The sentries were a different situation. James working hypothesis was there were at least accomplices, if not other killers. What was missing, at least for now, other than money, was motive.
When James walked out, Alex was waiting for him, and he walked over. Suddenly he realized he had a cameraman with him. "Since when are you on TV?" Alex smiled back, "I am too good looking solely for print!" he joked. James trusted him, they were good friends who went back all the way to college. Fraternity brothers at Delta Tau Delta, best known as the same fraternity as Matthew McConaughey, JT and Alex were about 10 years younger, but knew the actor well as he was a frequent visitor and benefactor of the frat.
He gave Alex the background and primed him, and then the cameras came on. He would catch a bit of heat afterward, but he wanted to get a message out. This, so far at least, did not have the look of either an internal or a competitive cartel play, this was a hit apparently on both the Terrero Cartel and the Baker Street Boys. He wanted to get that message to all, and hopefully avoid world war three. Not that he would mind these guys all killing each other off, but unfortunately it would not work that cleanly, and lots of innocent people would get caught in any such crossfire.
Alex asked the key question, "If not a competitive cartel or another gang, what then is the motivation?" Alex was a veteran, and this had all the signs of a professional kill, but why? JT looked up at him, "At this point, we honestly don't know...but we will, I promise you that!" The lights went off and the two agreed to grab drinks or dinner soon. Given that JT hadn't known Alex got the TV gig, they obviously needed to catch up. They commisserated on how their jobs seemed to prevent them from finding any woman who lasted more than a night or two, but acknowledged that wasn't likely changing anytime soon. A handshake and a slap on the back and they said good night, good morning would have been more accurate as it was now almost 3 AM.
The next two days brought nothing but cold lead after cold lead. JT began to believe that maybe this was a one person job, as it was almost impossible to keep something like this, this quiet. JT needed a break and headed to the farmer's market. He'd grab some fruit for smoothies and some zucchini to cook up for dinner with maybe some fish. As a confirmed bachelor he had been forced to become a pretty damn good cook.
There was a neat little open air restaurant, good coffee and some bunson burner flames where they cooked up a pretty good veggie omelette. He was relaxng when he saw her across the way sipping coffee, she was very natural, almost no makeup, but young, attractive, and even casually dressed, he couldn't help but admire her rockin' body. He probably stared too long, as she seemed to notice him. 'Shit!' she was coming over. He sat up a bit straighter and smiled, knowing he had been fully caught in the act.
But as she got closer, she seemed far from offended and he relaxed, his smile becoming more natural, "Haven't I seen you before?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "On the internet. That thing, that shooting. Those gang guys. I thought I saw you in a video shot." He stood up and nodded, "Yeah, that was me...I'm James Tyson..." He held his hand out friendly in greeting, "I'm a detective and leading the investigation...and you are?...and would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?" It probably wasn't the smoothest, but he didn't run into that many women, other than in bars or the health club...or on the job...and well, hell, she had come up to him....
James had then walked the sites where all the bodies had fallen. He reviewed the ways they had been killed. If it was a single assassin, it was very odd to see anyone use such a wide variety of weapons. James doubted it was a single shooter, although forensics would soon show that at least all the bullets taken from the bodies and found on the floors, came from the same semi-automatic. The sentries were a different situation. James working hypothesis was there were at least accomplices, if not other killers. What was missing, at least for now, other than money, was motive.
When James walked out, Alex was waiting for him, and he walked over. Suddenly he realized he had a cameraman with him. "Since when are you on TV?" Alex smiled back, "I am too good looking solely for print!" he joked. James trusted him, they were good friends who went back all the way to college. Fraternity brothers at Delta Tau Delta, best known as the same fraternity as Matthew McConaughey, JT and Alex were about 10 years younger, but knew the actor well as he was a frequent visitor and benefactor of the frat.
He gave Alex the background and primed him, and then the cameras came on. He would catch a bit of heat afterward, but he wanted to get a message out. This, so far at least, did not have the look of either an internal or a competitive cartel play, this was a hit apparently on both the Terrero Cartel and the Baker Street Boys. He wanted to get that message to all, and hopefully avoid world war three. Not that he would mind these guys all killing each other off, but unfortunately it would not work that cleanly, and lots of innocent people would get caught in any such crossfire.
Alex asked the key question, "If not a competitive cartel or another gang, what then is the motivation?" Alex was a veteran, and this had all the signs of a professional kill, but why? JT looked up at him, "At this point, we honestly don't know...but we will, I promise you that!" The lights went off and the two agreed to grab drinks or dinner soon. Given that JT hadn't known Alex got the TV gig, they obviously needed to catch up. They commisserated on how their jobs seemed to prevent them from finding any woman who lasted more than a night or two, but acknowledged that wasn't likely changing anytime soon. A handshake and a slap on the back and they said good night, good morning would have been more accurate as it was now almost 3 AM.
The next two days brought nothing but cold lead after cold lead. JT began to believe that maybe this was a one person job, as it was almost impossible to keep something like this, this quiet. JT needed a break and headed to the farmer's market. He'd grab some fruit for smoothies and some zucchini to cook up for dinner with maybe some fish. As a confirmed bachelor he had been forced to become a pretty damn good cook.
There was a neat little open air restaurant, good coffee and some bunson burner flames where they cooked up a pretty good veggie omelette. He was relaxng when he saw her across the way sipping coffee, she was very natural, almost no makeup, but young, attractive, and even casually dressed, he couldn't help but admire her rockin' body. He probably stared too long, as she seemed to notice him. 'Shit!' she was coming over. He sat up a bit straighter and smiled, knowing he had been fully caught in the act.
But as she got closer, she seemed far from offended and he relaxed, his smile becoming more natural, "Haven't I seen you before?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "On the internet. That thing, that shooting. Those gang guys. I thought I saw you in a video shot." He stood up and nodded, "Yeah, that was me...I'm James Tyson..." He held his hand out friendly in greeting, "I'm a detective and leading the investigation...and you are?...and would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?" It probably wasn't the smoothest, but he didn't run into that many women, other than in bars or the health club...or on the job...and well, hell, she had come up to him....
CutiePie1997
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"Yeah, that was me...I'm James Tyson..." He held his hand out friendly in greeting, "I'm a detective and leading the investigation."
"Ooh," she said with an impressed tone, taking the offered hand. "Detective ... and in charge, too."
"...and you are?"
"Marla," she said quickly, still maintaining hold of his hand. Her interest in the man had peaked with discovering that he was more than just some beat cop or paper pusher down at the precinct. "Marla King."
"...and would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?"
Her smile only widened. With a tone that bordered on seductive, she answered, "Absolutely."
Marla sat in the chair opposite him, then set her cloth bag between her feet. She couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he knew there was $600,000 on the concrete between her ankles, waiting to be delivered to three more family members of victims of the criminals he was investigating.
"Is it true...?" she began with excitement but barely louder than a whisper, as if asking things she shouldn't, "The internet says a woman did this. The Lone Rager!"
She laughed aloud. Her ignorance of the case may have been feigned, but her delight in the ridiculous nickname was real. She added with more laughter, "Men all over Austin are asking themselves if their wives are on their period and whether they should bring home flowers after work … or maybe not come home at all."
As if the floral Gods had been listening, a young Latino girl came by selling flowers, singularly or in small bouquets. Even though her Spanish was fluent and flawless, Marla spoke to the girl with poor grammar and a horrific accent, buying just a single blue Bachelor's Button. She dug into her purse, found a $5 bill, wrapped it around a $100 bill, and slipped them both into the can hung around the girl's neck.
"This is for you, Detective," Marla said, offering the long stemmed flower out. She laughed again. "I don't honestly know the etiquette regarding a woman giving a man flowers or even if there is one, so, let's call this a citizen giving a police officer a token of her delight at his dedicated and tireless work to keep her and her fellow citizens safe."
She reached the flower out, leaned in closer, and said reassuringly, "Don't worry. This isn't a bribe."
They chatted some more about the case, with Marla trying to learn more without sounding at all like she has anything more than a casual interest in the case … or in James himself. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. And she was very quickly learning that he was just the kind of man whose bone she would jump in an instant, if she wasn't so engaged in her current mission.
Then again, as they talked, Marla began to wonder whether or not it might be a smart idea to keep as close to this man as possible. James was, after all, in charge of the investigation into the deadly attack that she herself had conducted.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Marla suddenly blurted out. She laughed, then blushed, then apologized, "I'm sorry, that-- I'm sorry, that was blunt. I just … well, I don't know anyone here in Austin. I just moved her, literally. Been here, what, ten days?"
In reality, she'd been in and out of Austin for the last ten months. But it had only been over the last two weeks or so -- just before learning the date of the drug sell -- that she'd allowed herself to enjoy some of what the town had to offer above and beyond its dark and dingy bars, heroine shooting galleries, and filthy alleys and Squats where she could gather information on her targets.
"I'm sorry, you're probably married … engaged … otherwise attached," she offered, giving him a way out in case he had no interest. Then, to show she was more liberal than most, offered, "Maybe your interest isn't in women at all...? Be a shame, but … I'd understand. I like men. Why shouldn't other men like'em, too, right?"
Her lips spread in a sly smile. Marla was about as liberal a person that there ever was when it came to such things as sexual preferences. Her attitude was that so long as what you did behind your bedroom door wasn't hurting anyone, enjoy.
Regardless of what James's answer was, Marla would tell him that she had an errand to do and needed to take off. She would tell him it had been good to meet and speak with him, and then thank him for the invite to sit and -- if they were going to see one another again -- trade phone numbers with him. Then, she would need to finish her business for the day.
"Ooh," she said with an impressed tone, taking the offered hand. "Detective ... and in charge, too."
"...and you are?"
"Marla," she said quickly, still maintaining hold of his hand. Her interest in the man had peaked with discovering that he was more than just some beat cop or paper pusher down at the precinct. "Marla King."
"...and would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?"
Her smile only widened. With a tone that bordered on seductive, she answered, "Absolutely."
Marla sat in the chair opposite him, then set her cloth bag between her feet. She couldn't help but wonder what he would think if he knew there was $600,000 on the concrete between her ankles, waiting to be delivered to three more family members of victims of the criminals he was investigating.
"Is it true...?" she began with excitement but barely louder than a whisper, as if asking things she shouldn't, "The internet says a woman did this. The Lone Rager!"
She laughed aloud. Her ignorance of the case may have been feigned, but her delight in the ridiculous nickname was real. She added with more laughter, "Men all over Austin are asking themselves if their wives are on their period and whether they should bring home flowers after work … or maybe not come home at all."
As if the floral Gods had been listening, a young Latino girl came by selling flowers, singularly or in small bouquets. Even though her Spanish was fluent and flawless, Marla spoke to the girl with poor grammar and a horrific accent, buying just a single blue Bachelor's Button. She dug into her purse, found a $5 bill, wrapped it around a $100 bill, and slipped them both into the can hung around the girl's neck.
"This is for you, Detective," Marla said, offering the long stemmed flower out. She laughed again. "I don't honestly know the etiquette regarding a woman giving a man flowers or even if there is one, so, let's call this a citizen giving a police officer a token of her delight at his dedicated and tireless work to keep her and her fellow citizens safe."
She reached the flower out, leaned in closer, and said reassuringly, "Don't worry. This isn't a bribe."
They chatted some more about the case, with Marla trying to learn more without sounding at all like she has anything more than a casual interest in the case … or in James himself. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. And she was very quickly learning that he was just the kind of man whose bone she would jump in an instant, if she wasn't so engaged in her current mission.
Then again, as they talked, Marla began to wonder whether or not it might be a smart idea to keep as close to this man as possible. James was, after all, in charge of the investigation into the deadly attack that she herself had conducted.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Marla suddenly blurted out. She laughed, then blushed, then apologized, "I'm sorry, that-- I'm sorry, that was blunt. I just … well, I don't know anyone here in Austin. I just moved her, literally. Been here, what, ten days?"
In reality, she'd been in and out of Austin for the last ten months. But it had only been over the last two weeks or so -- just before learning the date of the drug sell -- that she'd allowed herself to enjoy some of what the town had to offer above and beyond its dark and dingy bars, heroine shooting galleries, and filthy alleys and Squats where she could gather information on her targets.
"I'm sorry, you're probably married … engaged … otherwise attached," she offered, giving him a way out in case he had no interest. Then, to show she was more liberal than most, offered, "Maybe your interest isn't in women at all...? Be a shame, but … I'd understand. I like men. Why shouldn't other men like'em, too, right?"
Her lips spread in a sly smile. Marla was about as liberal a person that there ever was when it came to such things as sexual preferences. Her attitude was that so long as what you did behind your bedroom door wasn't hurting anyone, enjoy.
Regardless of what James's answer was, Marla would tell him that she had an errand to do and needed to take off. She would tell him it had been good to meet and speak with him, and then thank him for the invite to sit and -- if they were going to see one another again -- trade phone numbers with him. Then, she would need to finish her business for the day.
Homerun2611
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"Marla...Marla King....Absolutely" He walked around behind her and held out her chair, "It is nice to meet you Marla King...I wish I could say I am used to attractive women coming up and introducing themselves at the market...make that anywhere...bu I would not be telling the truth and that would be a bad place to start...wouldn't it?" He was teasing a bit, but also tying to nicely suggest that he was attracted, which he most certainly was, hoping that the attraction might be in any way reciprocal.
She was curious, but he guessed most people were, about the shooting. Austin had tough areas, but was far from a crime mecca, and that type of body count stayed on the front page. He answered the questions, but he was more watching her, he liked her confidence, her easy sense of humor, and that smile was killer...of course he had no idea how killer it actually was?
She did shock him though when she spoke to the young flower girl, her command of the language was lacking, but she got her point across. He was embarrassed, he had considered doing the same for her, but was afraid it would be too forward, and he didn't want to scare her off. She had no such reservation, and he was far from scared. She paid the girl, and he knew she tucked something inside the five dollar bill, but he assumed it was another single, maybe a five, at most a ten, a nice gesture which he liked that she didn't make a show of it, not embarrassing the girl. However, if he had known it was a hundred, that would have been different, his spidey senses would have tingled and questioned, but for now, it just remained a sweet and generous gesture.
She handed him over the flower. "This is for you, Detective...I don't honestly know the etiquette regarding a woman giving a man flowers or even if there is one, so, let's call this a citizen giving a police officer a token of her delight at his dedicated and tireless work to keep her and her fellow citizens safe." But then she said a most interesting thing, "Don't worry. This isn't a bribe."
He cocked his brow, there were few words that raised his alarm bells more than the 'B' word. "A bribe, now why might you need to bribe me? Are you planning to do something wrong...be a naughty girl?" He laughed, not wanting to go to far and let funny become creepy. "It is I who feel bad, I should have been the one to buy flowers for you...you now have me at a bit of a disadvantage, I think I owe you a surprise..." He looked with his handsome eyes and classic features into her face, "I only hope I have a chance to repay." Okay, for him, he was flirting his ass off, much more than usual, maybe it was because she had come to him, maybe it was because it had been so.....sooooo long, and there was something about her he was finding incredibly sexy!
They talked a bit more, more talking than flirting, or so he thought, and then again suddenly, "Would you like to have dinner with me?" she blushed, it was cute, but before he could even answer, "I'm sorry, that-- I'm sorry, that was blunt. I just … well, I don't know anyone here in Austin. I just moved her, literally. Been here, what, ten days?" She then tried to back pedal a bit from her forwardness, she was a tough girl at times to get a word in edgewise with, making sure he wasn't married, or gay!
He laughed, "Well I've lived here the better part of ten years, and I am free as a bird. At best I was going to meet some buddies at a bar and catch the Astros game over a couple of beers, but this sounds like a far superior option." He was smiling, almost laughing but didn't want to embarrass her, "..and no, I am not married...nor gay....I promise I am as red blooded as any american male can be...well one who hasn't had a date since I don't know when..." Suddenly his eyes grew wide, had he over assumed, "You are asking me out on a date, right?" He waited for her response a bit embarrassed.
"If you like Mexican, there are a few Chuy's around, but the one on Barton Springs is the original and I have been going there ever since I was at UT. It is casual but good, with a great selection of margaritas and cerveza, if you drink that is?" They agreed on Chuy's and exchanged numbers and he got her address.
He watched her as she walked away, and she looked as good from the back as she did from the front which was saying something. He purchased what he needed to from the market and went home. He tried to work, plan out where he stood in the case, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. He went for a run, and then hopped into the shower around 6. He tried on three different shirts before settling on a white casual crew neck shirt with a couple of buttons, and some jeans. He was too excited, but this was such an out of the blue surprise. He pulled up in front of her place, and when she opened the door she took his breath away for a second.
He tried to be cool, kissed her on the cheek hello, and escorted her out to his mustang. He had his arm lightly around her to the car, opening the door and helping her in. Likewise at the restaurant he hustled around, once parked and opened her door, and again guided her into the restaurant, his hand, ever so lightly, on the small of her back. It would be 10 or 15 minutes until a table cleared so he got them chips and salsa from the salsa bar and then joined her at the bar, she had already ordered, and he ordered one of their famous margaritas on the rocks with salt....they clinked glasses, it was then he realized how very little they knew about each other, bu they had all night to find out?
She was curious, but he guessed most people were, about the shooting. Austin had tough areas, but was far from a crime mecca, and that type of body count stayed on the front page. He answered the questions, but he was more watching her, he liked her confidence, her easy sense of humor, and that smile was killer...of course he had no idea how killer it actually was?
She did shock him though when she spoke to the young flower girl, her command of the language was lacking, but she got her point across. He was embarrassed, he had considered doing the same for her, but was afraid it would be too forward, and he didn't want to scare her off. She had no such reservation, and he was far from scared. She paid the girl, and he knew she tucked something inside the five dollar bill, but he assumed it was another single, maybe a five, at most a ten, a nice gesture which he liked that she didn't make a show of it, not embarrassing the girl. However, if he had known it was a hundred, that would have been different, his spidey senses would have tingled and questioned, but for now, it just remained a sweet and generous gesture.
She handed him over the flower. "This is for you, Detective...I don't honestly know the etiquette regarding a woman giving a man flowers or even if there is one, so, let's call this a citizen giving a police officer a token of her delight at his dedicated and tireless work to keep her and her fellow citizens safe." But then she said a most interesting thing, "Don't worry. This isn't a bribe."
He cocked his brow, there were few words that raised his alarm bells more than the 'B' word. "A bribe, now why might you need to bribe me? Are you planning to do something wrong...be a naughty girl?" He laughed, not wanting to go to far and let funny become creepy. "It is I who feel bad, I should have been the one to buy flowers for you...you now have me at a bit of a disadvantage, I think I owe you a surprise..." He looked with his handsome eyes and classic features into her face, "I only hope I have a chance to repay." Okay, for him, he was flirting his ass off, much more than usual, maybe it was because she had come to him, maybe it was because it had been so.....sooooo long, and there was something about her he was finding incredibly sexy!
They talked a bit more, more talking than flirting, or so he thought, and then again suddenly, "Would you like to have dinner with me?" she blushed, it was cute, but before he could even answer, "I'm sorry, that-- I'm sorry, that was blunt. I just … well, I don't know anyone here in Austin. I just moved her, literally. Been here, what, ten days?" She then tried to back pedal a bit from her forwardness, she was a tough girl at times to get a word in edgewise with, making sure he wasn't married, or gay!
He laughed, "Well I've lived here the better part of ten years, and I am free as a bird. At best I was going to meet some buddies at a bar and catch the Astros game over a couple of beers, but this sounds like a far superior option." He was smiling, almost laughing but didn't want to embarrass her, "..and no, I am not married...nor gay....I promise I am as red blooded as any american male can be...well one who hasn't had a date since I don't know when..." Suddenly his eyes grew wide, had he over assumed, "You are asking me out on a date, right?" He waited for her response a bit embarrassed.
"If you like Mexican, there are a few Chuy's around, but the one on Barton Springs is the original and I have been going there ever since I was at UT. It is casual but good, with a great selection of margaritas and cerveza, if you drink that is?" They agreed on Chuy's and exchanged numbers and he got her address.
He watched her as she walked away, and she looked as good from the back as she did from the front which was saying something. He purchased what he needed to from the market and went home. He tried to work, plan out where he stood in the case, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. He went for a run, and then hopped into the shower around 6. He tried on three different shirts before settling on a white casual crew neck shirt with a couple of buttons, and some jeans. He was too excited, but this was such an out of the blue surprise. He pulled up in front of her place, and when she opened the door she took his breath away for a second.
He tried to be cool, kissed her on the cheek hello, and escorted her out to his mustang. He had his arm lightly around her to the car, opening the door and helping her in. Likewise at the restaurant he hustled around, once parked and opened her door, and again guided her into the restaurant, his hand, ever so lightly, on the small of her back. It would be 10 or 15 minutes until a table cleared so he got them chips and salsa from the salsa bar and then joined her at the bar, she had already ordered, and he ordered one of their famous margaritas on the rocks with salt....they clinked glasses, it was then he realized how very little they knew about each other, bu they had all night to find out?
CutiePie1997
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- Jun 22, 2016
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When James returned from checking on the table to sit with her, Marla was thinking the same thing he was about not knowing each other very well. After some basic chit chat, Marla began spilling about her life.
She'd grown up in the countryside of Central Washington State on a hereford ranch. She'd had horses and rabbits and dogs; she'd learned to shoot and fish and could gut and skin a rabbit in under two minutes.
"Had a dog named Flicka You know, like the horse from the book, and movie, and TV, and movie again. I used to go out in the hills with her and shoot rabbits. I'd shoot, she'd retrieve. I got pretty good at it..."
Marla realized she was getting a little more descriptive about her experience with firearms than she wanted to be with the cop investigating the shooting in which she'd played a key part.
She switched to high school for just a moment, talking of how she hadn't been part of the In Crowd, hadn't been the Prom Queen, hadn't dated the All Star Quarterback, and hadn't done any of the things like that that most people thought a girl with her looks and body had done during her teens.
"Went to U-Dub … Go Huskies! Rah, rah," Marla continued. "Two years there, then, the money ran out. Didn't qualify for student aid … parents couldn't foot the bill … part time work in that employment climate wasn't going to cut it either."
"Joined the Navy … not really to do anything in particular, but they liked that I spoke a couple of foreign languages fairly well--"
Marla remembered how she'd pretended not to speak Spanish well earlier. She lied, "Obviously, Spanish hadn't been one of them. I grew up with Russian neighbors ... my uncle had married a Frenchie when he was stationed in Europe … and my best friend at school's first language had been Farsi. Her parents had fled Iran during that whole Shah thing."
She didn't mention the six other languages she spoke fluently or at least well enough to get herself into or out of trouble in the countries of their origins.
"Anyway, I spent two years translating unimportant communications for the Navy. Nothing major. Not like I found the clue that found bin Laden or anything like that."
She drank again. "I'm not really 'sposed to talk about it, obviously, not that you would find it interesting at all."
Marla knew that James would probably find her government service very interesting. And then she would have had to leave Austin or he would have had to put her in jail.
She'd spent two years in the Navy as she'd told him. But then she'd spent two more with the NSA, both in a listening room and on the ground. And that had been followed by four more years with the CIA, all of this on the ground in Northern Iran, Eastern Syria, and Southern Turkey.
Marla's life away from the ranch had begun earlier than she told people. She'd graduated high school at 16, gotten her BS -- not left university -- by 19, and was working for the CIA by 23, which was the age on her current, falsified Driver's license and passport
In reality, she was just months short of her 30th birthday. But she didn't tell people that. It was far easier to not explain about her years with the NSA and CIA if those years simply hadn't existed.
Her demeanor soured again. Marla was getting nearer to why she was in Austin and why she'd shot up two gangs three days earlier, and she obviously couldn't be as open with James about that as she had about her dog and its strange name.
She was in full lying mode as she continued.
"My parents and younger brother were killed in a car accident last year--"
They'd actually been killed as collateral damage during a Tererro Cartel ambush on a rival cartel, and it had happened nearly three years ago.
"--back home in Washington State--"
The killing had actually been right here in Austin, about 14 blocks away. Marla didn't fear James making any kind of connection between that and herself because her real surname and, therefore, that of her family wasn't actually King, it was Bishop.
"--so the Navy was more than willing to give me a hardship discharge--"
In truth, the CIA had reluctantly let her go, and that was only because Marla's depression and anger -- fueled by the increasing use of alcohol and cocaine -- had made her a threat to others in the agency. They'd given her one last mission which -- honestly -- they thought would see her dead, and when she both completed and survived it before disappearing back to North America, no one ever tried to find her. As far as they were concerned, Marla King had died on a mission to Northern Jordan while tracking a gunrunner trying to sell shoulder fired SAMs.
"--and I went back home to Washington to be with my sister."
Her sister had actually died two years earlier that the rest of her family, the last bit of the lie about her family. Gwen had been raped and murdered by a trio of gangbangers just outside the U-Dub campus. The men had been arrested, charged, but not convicted. Alleged police misconduct had led to evidence being tossed. The case had been closed, and her sister's death had been forgotten by the police.
A couple of weeks after Marla got home from the Middle East, the three men had simply disappeared. Their bodies, buried in the Central Washington plateau, were still yet to be discovered.
The killing of Marla's sister hadn't had anything to do with the killing of the rest of her family here in Austin. But it had pushed Marla over the top.
She laughed again and studied James for a long moment, wondering just how she was to continue talking about herself to a cop when the next two years of her life had been dedicated to ridding the world of drug pushers by putting bullets through their heads.
"My sis recently got married and moved with her husband to Europe where he does something for an international trading firm, I dunno," she continued. "I ended up here in Austin. Don't know why. Saw an ad on the television maybe. No, no I remember, it was NPR radio. I was listening to a TED Radio hour program about the South by Southwest festival, and the next thing I knew I was on a train bound for Austin. Got an apartment over looking a big, beautiful park--"
It was a park around which the Baker Boys controlled both the drug distribution and the prostitution, not she pointed that out to James, and also not that he probably didn't already know. During the day, it was a peaceful, idyllic setting to which mothers brought their children and old folks played chess or walked their dogs. But after dark, the only people in it were victims and criminals, which was the reason Marla had taken up residence so close to it.
She continued, "--and found a coffee shop round the corner with the best raisin muffins--"
Again, there was a story behind that as well. And again, Marla couldn't tell James.
The Syrian owner of the coffee shop had once been a gun runner in Northern Iraq and an asset for the CIA before his cover was blown. He'd escaped to Germany with his family, then Canada, then finally America, ending up right here in Austin. None of that had had anything to do with Marla, of course.
But when she'd recently developed a need for firearms, explosives, and electronics, Marla's own NSA contact had put her in touch with the man who now went by the very un-Syrian name of Ben Jones.
Marla went quiet, sipping at her drink for a moment as she studied the man before her. Finally she asked, "So, how did you end up a cop. And when are you going to catch this … Lone Rager or whoever killed all those men … so that us women-folk will feel safe going out on the street at night again?"
She'd grown up in the countryside of Central Washington State on a hereford ranch. She'd had horses and rabbits and dogs; she'd learned to shoot and fish and could gut and skin a rabbit in under two minutes.
"Had a dog named Flicka You know, like the horse from the book, and movie, and TV, and movie again. I used to go out in the hills with her and shoot rabbits. I'd shoot, she'd retrieve. I got pretty good at it..."
Marla realized she was getting a little more descriptive about her experience with firearms than she wanted to be with the cop investigating the shooting in which she'd played a key part.
She switched to high school for just a moment, talking of how she hadn't been part of the In Crowd, hadn't been the Prom Queen, hadn't dated the All Star Quarterback, and hadn't done any of the things like that that most people thought a girl with her looks and body had done during her teens.
"Went to U-Dub … Go Huskies! Rah, rah," Marla continued. "Two years there, then, the money ran out. Didn't qualify for student aid … parents couldn't foot the bill … part time work in that employment climate wasn't going to cut it either."
"Joined the Navy … not really to do anything in particular, but they liked that I spoke a couple of foreign languages fairly well--"
Marla remembered how she'd pretended not to speak Spanish well earlier. She lied, "Obviously, Spanish hadn't been one of them. I grew up with Russian neighbors ... my uncle had married a Frenchie when he was stationed in Europe … and my best friend at school's first language had been Farsi. Her parents had fled Iran during that whole Shah thing."
She didn't mention the six other languages she spoke fluently or at least well enough to get herself into or out of trouble in the countries of their origins.
"Anyway, I spent two years translating unimportant communications for the Navy. Nothing major. Not like I found the clue that found bin Laden or anything like that."
She drank again. "I'm not really 'sposed to talk about it, obviously, not that you would find it interesting at all."
Marla knew that James would probably find her government service very interesting. And then she would have had to leave Austin or he would have had to put her in jail.
She'd spent two years in the Navy as she'd told him. But then she'd spent two more with the NSA, both in a listening room and on the ground. And that had been followed by four more years with the CIA, all of this on the ground in Northern Iran, Eastern Syria, and Southern Turkey.
Marla's life away from the ranch had begun earlier than she told people. She'd graduated high school at 16, gotten her BS -- not left university -- by 19, and was working for the CIA by 23, which was the age on her current, falsified Driver's license and passport
In reality, she was just months short of her 30th birthday. But she didn't tell people that. It was far easier to not explain about her years with the NSA and CIA if those years simply hadn't existed.
Her demeanor soured again. Marla was getting nearer to why she was in Austin and why she'd shot up two gangs three days earlier, and she obviously couldn't be as open with James about that as she had about her dog and its strange name.
She was in full lying mode as she continued.
"My parents and younger brother were killed in a car accident last year--"
They'd actually been killed as collateral damage during a Tererro Cartel ambush on a rival cartel, and it had happened nearly three years ago.
"--back home in Washington State--"
The killing had actually been right here in Austin, about 14 blocks away. Marla didn't fear James making any kind of connection between that and herself because her real surname and, therefore, that of her family wasn't actually King, it was Bishop.
"--so the Navy was more than willing to give me a hardship discharge--"
In truth, the CIA had reluctantly let her go, and that was only because Marla's depression and anger -- fueled by the increasing use of alcohol and cocaine -- had made her a threat to others in the agency. They'd given her one last mission which -- honestly -- they thought would see her dead, and when she both completed and survived it before disappearing back to North America, no one ever tried to find her. As far as they were concerned, Marla King had died on a mission to Northern Jordan while tracking a gunrunner trying to sell shoulder fired SAMs.
"--and I went back home to Washington to be with my sister."
Her sister had actually died two years earlier that the rest of her family, the last bit of the lie about her family. Gwen had been raped and murdered by a trio of gangbangers just outside the U-Dub campus. The men had been arrested, charged, but not convicted. Alleged police misconduct had led to evidence being tossed. The case had been closed, and her sister's death had been forgotten by the police.
A couple of weeks after Marla got home from the Middle East, the three men had simply disappeared. Their bodies, buried in the Central Washington plateau, were still yet to be discovered.
The killing of Marla's sister hadn't had anything to do with the killing of the rest of her family here in Austin. But it had pushed Marla over the top.
She laughed again and studied James for a long moment, wondering just how she was to continue talking about herself to a cop when the next two years of her life had been dedicated to ridding the world of drug pushers by putting bullets through their heads.
"My sis recently got married and moved with her husband to Europe where he does something for an international trading firm, I dunno," she continued. "I ended up here in Austin. Don't know why. Saw an ad on the television maybe. No, no I remember, it was NPR radio. I was listening to a TED Radio hour program about the South by Southwest festival, and the next thing I knew I was on a train bound for Austin. Got an apartment over looking a big, beautiful park--"
It was a park around which the Baker Boys controlled both the drug distribution and the prostitution, not she pointed that out to James, and also not that he probably didn't already know. During the day, it was a peaceful, idyllic setting to which mothers brought their children and old folks played chess or walked their dogs. But after dark, the only people in it were victims and criminals, which was the reason Marla had taken up residence so close to it.
She continued, "--and found a coffee shop round the corner with the best raisin muffins--"
Again, there was a story behind that as well. And again, Marla couldn't tell James.
The Syrian owner of the coffee shop had once been a gun runner in Northern Iraq and an asset for the CIA before his cover was blown. He'd escaped to Germany with his family, then Canada, then finally America, ending up right here in Austin. None of that had had anything to do with Marla, of course.
But when she'd recently developed a need for firearms, explosives, and electronics, Marla's own NSA contact had put her in touch with the man who now went by the very un-Syrian name of Ben Jones.
Marla went quiet, sipping at her drink for a moment as she studied the man before her. Finally she asked, "So, how did you end up a cop. And when are you going to catch this … Lone Rager or whoever killed all those men … so that us women-folk will feel safe going out on the street at night again?"
Homerun2611
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- Mar 21, 2018
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The drinks had arrived, hers was a frozen margarita, or maybe a daiquiri, it was red, perhaps strawberry or pomegranate? He was going to ask, but never got a chance as she began to tell her story. TJ had too much experience as a cop to ever take anything at face value, even from a girl he was hoping he might get a chance to know more intimately.
Her story seemed sad, was sad, having to drop out of school, parents being dead, he understood poor, and only having yourself to depend on. What exactly didn’t ring true he wasn’t’t sure, but something didn’t. Perhaps it was too rehearsed and quickly stated, maybe it was how little emotion was in her voice at times despite the highly emotional topics, maybe it was just defense mechanisms she had developed?
She certainly seemed capable, hunting and skinning were not usual attributes of women he dated. Of course it had been so long since he really dated anyone, maybe he just couldn’t remember. It had been hard, he’d only had one serious girlfriend, and she had died because of him. That had made, even the prospect of inviting someone out, bringing them into his crazy world almost impossible. However, that was two years ago, and this was basically his first date since then. Oh people had tried to fix him up, but his mind just wasn’t right, but her, asking him, he wanted to try.
She finished, "So, how did you end up a cop. And when are you going to catch this … Lone Rager or whoever killed all those men … so that us women-folk will feel safe going out on the street at night again?" He took a sip of his drink, eying her, “Are you sure you want the truth? I may not seem quite the white knight who deserved a flower from the beautiful maiden?” He took another sip, and then a deep breath, and began to tell his tale.
“I grew up in and out of the projects and foster homes in ‘Nahlins’...it took me years to lose that creole twang. New Orleans is a tough city. My mother was a crack whore, I never knew my Daddy, but he spent most of his life in jail, a huge meth addict. I have one brother, he was a druggie and gang banger in New Orleans Before he died in a rival gang shootout at 16.”
He saw the look, laughed, “Not a typical cop, huh?” “I was three years younger than my brother, but probably headed in the same direction, until I was put in foster care. I attended one of the parrish schools, and was good at football. A fairly fast option quarterback, Texas recruited me. I wanted to go to LSU, all the Louisiana kids did. They never offered, but Texas liked to pull kids out of Louisiana. I got recruited as an ‘athlete’ meaning I played quarterback in high school, but no way that translated to division one college football, but they’d figure out how to use me.”
“Long story short, I ripped up my knee so bad, I no longer had the twitch necessary to compete. Coach Brown, his wife Miss Sally, they were good people. Told me, they would honor my scholarship, but it was up to me to make something of myself. They held me accountable and followed up, like no one ever had. I didn’t want to be a criminal, so why not be a cop?”
He stopped and looked at her, a fire there that he usually hid. “Marla, I’ll tell you a secret. I am not close to solving this, and part of me doesn’t want to. The world is better off, without every single person who died the other night. Drugs may be the fun toy of the rich, but they are the ultimate poison to the poor. They destroyed all of my kin, oh I’m not saying they weren’t weak, shouldn’t have known better, but their lives are miserable, they use drugs to try to escape, only to find they are now trapped worse than ever...”
There was more to his story, a lot more, but their table was called. He had been pretty bold in his honesty, and knew he sounded almost like a crazy vigilante. He paid the bartender, and held out his hand to take her to the table. He wondered if she would take it, or tear off into the night and away from this troubled cop?
Her story seemed sad, was sad, having to drop out of school, parents being dead, he understood poor, and only having yourself to depend on. What exactly didn’t ring true he wasn’t’t sure, but something didn’t. Perhaps it was too rehearsed and quickly stated, maybe it was how little emotion was in her voice at times despite the highly emotional topics, maybe it was just defense mechanisms she had developed?
She certainly seemed capable, hunting and skinning were not usual attributes of women he dated. Of course it had been so long since he really dated anyone, maybe he just couldn’t remember. It had been hard, he’d only had one serious girlfriend, and she had died because of him. That had made, even the prospect of inviting someone out, bringing them into his crazy world almost impossible. However, that was two years ago, and this was basically his first date since then. Oh people had tried to fix him up, but his mind just wasn’t right, but her, asking him, he wanted to try.
She finished, "So, how did you end up a cop. And when are you going to catch this … Lone Rager or whoever killed all those men … so that us women-folk will feel safe going out on the street at night again?" He took a sip of his drink, eying her, “Are you sure you want the truth? I may not seem quite the white knight who deserved a flower from the beautiful maiden?” He took another sip, and then a deep breath, and began to tell his tale.
“I grew up in and out of the projects and foster homes in ‘Nahlins’...it took me years to lose that creole twang. New Orleans is a tough city. My mother was a crack whore, I never knew my Daddy, but he spent most of his life in jail, a huge meth addict. I have one brother, he was a druggie and gang banger in New Orleans Before he died in a rival gang shootout at 16.”
He saw the look, laughed, “Not a typical cop, huh?” “I was three years younger than my brother, but probably headed in the same direction, until I was put in foster care. I attended one of the parrish schools, and was good at football. A fairly fast option quarterback, Texas recruited me. I wanted to go to LSU, all the Louisiana kids did. They never offered, but Texas liked to pull kids out of Louisiana. I got recruited as an ‘athlete’ meaning I played quarterback in high school, but no way that translated to division one college football, but they’d figure out how to use me.”
“Long story short, I ripped up my knee so bad, I no longer had the twitch necessary to compete. Coach Brown, his wife Miss Sally, they were good people. Told me, they would honor my scholarship, but it was up to me to make something of myself. They held me accountable and followed up, like no one ever had. I didn’t want to be a criminal, so why not be a cop?”
He stopped and looked at her, a fire there that he usually hid. “Marla, I’ll tell you a secret. I am not close to solving this, and part of me doesn’t want to. The world is better off, without every single person who died the other night. Drugs may be the fun toy of the rich, but they are the ultimate poison to the poor. They destroyed all of my kin, oh I’m not saying they weren’t weak, shouldn’t have known better, but their lives are miserable, they use drugs to try to escape, only to find they are now trapped worse than ever...”
There was more to his story, a lot more, but their table was called. He had been pretty bold in his honesty, and knew he sounded almost like a crazy vigilante. He paid the bartender, and held out his hand to take her to the table. He wondered if she would take it, or tear off into the night and away from this troubled cop?
CutiePie1997
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- Jun 22, 2016
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Marla found herself intrigued with James in a way she hadn't imagined. She'd been so concerned with him being a cop and her being … well, what ever she was. She'd killed 14 people -- two more had died of their injuries over the past three days -- and that was something the Authorities frowned upon. But hearing James say the world was better without each and everyone of them had made her wonder whether or not he could empathize with her reasons. Accept her reasons...? No, not a chance; he was a cop. But maybe at least understand.
She did in fact take his hand and let him lead her to their table as if this weren't their first date. They ordered their meals and refreshed their drinks. Marla asked a flood of questions about New Orleans, to which she'd never been; about Austin, in which she would remain until she'd done maximum damage; and about being a police officer.
"I'm independently wealthy and living life like the Hiltons, flying from town to town in my private jet and partying with the Kennedys," she responded when he asked what she was doing these days. After laughing off her glib answer, she explained, "My parents had had life insurance, pretty good policy as it turned out. After paying off the farm's mortgage and then selling the farm, my sis and I split over a hundred grand. I was just bumming around, visiting friends, wasting time … did some reading and such … then ended up here. Don't do much, for work I mean. I'll have to eventually. Fifty grand just won't support a girl these days like it used to."
Marla's main reason for telling James she didn't have a regular job was that it freed her up to go anywhere she wanted any time of any day. No 9 to 5 restrictions on her, or if they were to see each other again for lunch or something -- which she thought was likely -- no need to tell James that she only had an hour for lunch or couldn't meet him until after closing.
"I like shooting guns," she said out of the blue. James's reaction told Marla she probably needed to clarify. "When I was little and during my two years in the Navy, I used to go to shoot a lot. Used to teach gun safety a bit. Maybe I'll do something like that."
Again, she was just setting the stage. Last thing she needed was for James to be out investigating guns and gun type people and find out she was spending her afternoons at the local gun range practicing and not having an excuse.
"What do you carry, by the way, I mean, if you're allowed to tell me … or show me? Do you carry 24/7?" Marla was just curious about whether he'd be armed if suddenly shit went sideways when they were together. It was always better to know before than after.
She did in fact take his hand and let him lead her to their table as if this weren't their first date. They ordered their meals and refreshed their drinks. Marla asked a flood of questions about New Orleans, to which she'd never been; about Austin, in which she would remain until she'd done maximum damage; and about being a police officer.
"I'm independently wealthy and living life like the Hiltons, flying from town to town in my private jet and partying with the Kennedys," she responded when he asked what she was doing these days. After laughing off her glib answer, she explained, "My parents had had life insurance, pretty good policy as it turned out. After paying off the farm's mortgage and then selling the farm, my sis and I split over a hundred grand. I was just bumming around, visiting friends, wasting time … did some reading and such … then ended up here. Don't do much, for work I mean. I'll have to eventually. Fifty grand just won't support a girl these days like it used to."
Marla's main reason for telling James she didn't have a regular job was that it freed her up to go anywhere she wanted any time of any day. No 9 to 5 restrictions on her, or if they were to see each other again for lunch or something -- which she thought was likely -- no need to tell James that she only had an hour for lunch or couldn't meet him until after closing.
"I like shooting guns," she said out of the blue. James's reaction told Marla she probably needed to clarify. "When I was little and during my two years in the Navy, I used to go to shoot a lot. Used to teach gun safety a bit. Maybe I'll do something like that."
Again, she was just setting the stage. Last thing she needed was for James to be out investigating guns and gun type people and find out she was spending her afternoons at the local gun range practicing and not having an excuse.
"What do you carry, by the way, I mean, if you're allowed to tell me … or show me? Do you carry 24/7?" Marla was just curious about whether he'd be armed if suddenly shit went sideways when they were together. It was always better to know before than after.
Last edited:
Homerun2611
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He liked that she took his hand, but didn't read too much into it. He definitely felt a chemistry and was very physically attracted, but this was a first date, even though it didn't have that normal first date awkward feel. "I'm independently wealthy and living life like the Hiltons, flying from town to town in my private jet and partying with the Kennedys," He laughed, "Will you marry me?"
He enjoyed teasing as much as she did, but hoped she took it completely in jest. Money didn't mean that much to him, he wanted to feel a bit secure and do the things he enjoyed, but he liked camping, skiing, playing rugby with the boys, but he was more a burgers or tacos and a beer guy rather than fine dining, although he could dress it up if needed, he had learned that in college and on the force.
"It must be nice to have your days free for a bit, Austin is a great town. If you like hunting, fishing or water sports, Lake Travis is a blast. I don't have a lot of luxuries, but I do keep a speed boat docked out there, I'd be glad to take you if you ever want to go? My friends and I love to go skiing or tubing, or just enjoy the hot days drinking beer out at the sand dune bars on the lack and swimming in the bays." He stopped, he probably shouldn't have alluded to a next date so soon, but things seemed to be going pretty well, and he hoped their was mutual interest and his innocent offer was a bit of a barometer.
"I like shooting guns,...When I was little and during my two years in the Navy, I used to go to shoot a lot. Used to teach gun safety a bit. Maybe I'll do something like that." He looked at her, it was the second time in a pretty short period she had referenced guns, something a cop was trained to notice. However, she was so natural about it, he moved on, he had known plenty of girls here in Texas who enjoyed guns. Frankly, there wasn't much sexier than a girl in cowboy boots, daisy dukes and watching her shoot a gun. "You are a bit of a country girl aren't you...I like that. I love to shoot too, I always have, but I will tell you, I have had to kill more than I wanted to, it was necessary, but even the bad guys, it gets to you."
Well that topic was a bit too serious and he tried to lighten the mood, "You should do that though, it sucks to have a job you don't enjoy, I am lucky, for the most part I like being a cop. The guys I go after, need to be put away...I just wish I could do more. The wheels of justice can be frustrating...but anyway...I' sure you would be a fine teacher. If you play your cards right, I'd be glad to take you to our range, we can have guests and the ammo is free."
He stopped there he was again, inferring another get together, and he didn't even know if she would want to kiss him goodnight. She changed the subject a bit, "What do you carry, by the way, I mean, if you're allowed to tell me … or show me? Do you carry 24/7?"
He laughed, "Well that's a bit personal. The first date and you're already asking to see my gun?" He was flirting letting the double entendre sit in the air for a second, and then he answered, " Just kidding, I use a Glock 22 semi automatic, pretty standard for the detectives in Austin. And sometimes I carry, but not tonight. I didn't think I was in any danger and needed to protect myself, was I wrong?" He gave her a smile and a wink, he was not normally a big flirt, but she was inspiring him...to what exactly was yet to be determined. "How is your dinner? I was thinking we might go down to 6th Street when we're done, there are a bunch of live bands playing...all types...if you are up for a little later night?"
He enjoyed teasing as much as she did, but hoped she took it completely in jest. Money didn't mean that much to him, he wanted to feel a bit secure and do the things he enjoyed, but he liked camping, skiing, playing rugby with the boys, but he was more a burgers or tacos and a beer guy rather than fine dining, although he could dress it up if needed, he had learned that in college and on the force.
"It must be nice to have your days free for a bit, Austin is a great town. If you like hunting, fishing or water sports, Lake Travis is a blast. I don't have a lot of luxuries, but I do keep a speed boat docked out there, I'd be glad to take you if you ever want to go? My friends and I love to go skiing or tubing, or just enjoy the hot days drinking beer out at the sand dune bars on the lack and swimming in the bays." He stopped, he probably shouldn't have alluded to a next date so soon, but things seemed to be going pretty well, and he hoped their was mutual interest and his innocent offer was a bit of a barometer.
"I like shooting guns,...When I was little and during my two years in the Navy, I used to go to shoot a lot. Used to teach gun safety a bit. Maybe I'll do something like that." He looked at her, it was the second time in a pretty short period she had referenced guns, something a cop was trained to notice. However, she was so natural about it, he moved on, he had known plenty of girls here in Texas who enjoyed guns. Frankly, there wasn't much sexier than a girl in cowboy boots, daisy dukes and watching her shoot a gun. "You are a bit of a country girl aren't you...I like that. I love to shoot too, I always have, but I will tell you, I have had to kill more than I wanted to, it was necessary, but even the bad guys, it gets to you."
Well that topic was a bit too serious and he tried to lighten the mood, "You should do that though, it sucks to have a job you don't enjoy, I am lucky, for the most part I like being a cop. The guys I go after, need to be put away...I just wish I could do more. The wheels of justice can be frustrating...but anyway...I' sure you would be a fine teacher. If you play your cards right, I'd be glad to take you to our range, we can have guests and the ammo is free."
He stopped there he was again, inferring another get together, and he didn't even know if she would want to kiss him goodnight. She changed the subject a bit, "What do you carry, by the way, I mean, if you're allowed to tell me … or show me? Do you carry 24/7?"
He laughed, "Well that's a bit personal. The first date and you're already asking to see my gun?" He was flirting letting the double entendre sit in the air for a second, and then he answered, " Just kidding, I use a Glock 22 semi automatic, pretty standard for the detectives in Austin. And sometimes I carry, but not tonight. I didn't think I was in any danger and needed to protect myself, was I wrong?" He gave her a smile and a wink, he was not normally a big flirt, but she was inspiring him...to what exactly was yet to be determined. "How is your dinner? I was thinking we might go down to 6th Street when we're done, there are a bunch of live bands playing...all types...if you are up for a little later night?"
CutiePie1997
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When James spoke about having a boat, Marla told him simply, "I'd enjoy that."
She'd always enjoyed being out on the water or on a beach or at the river as a teen, mostly because she'd looked good -- and still did -- in a skimpy, two piece bikini, and the attention she garnished because of it had always been a major boost to the ego.
Of course, nowadays she typically wore a one piece. She still looked sexy, and it prevented -- or at the least delayed -- the questions about the very conspicuous scars a one piece hid, the one on her belly just below and to the left of her belly button where she'd taken a knife, as well as the one just below her right breast where a bullet had penetrated her rib cage and then her lung.
James spoke of having had to take lives, plural she assumed by the fact that he'd said more than I wanted to.
"I can't imagine how hard that must be on a person," she lied with a sincere tone of sympathy. "Even bad guys, like you said. You know, they gave me additionally gun handling training in the Navy, 'cause I was sent to Bagdad once, to help train some American and Iraqi soldiers. Never had to carry a gun there, though, thank god. I don't know if I would ever pull the trigger on someone."
"If you play your cards right," he said after she'd spoken about maybe getting a job in gun handling and shooting, "I'd be glad to take you to our range, we can have guests and the ammo is free."
Marla hadn't failed to notice that James had suggested a second date a couple of times, nor had she noticed that he'd seemed a bit embarrassed about perhaps moving too quickly.
"Speaking of guns, JT … are you afraid you might be jumping one … getting ahead of yourself?" she asked with a devilish smirk. She giggled, then quickly said, "We are going out again. I guarantee it."
Marla stood, sipped more of her margarita, then leaned in to kiss James on his cheek. She said close to his ear, "Relax … and enjoy the evening. I like you, James Tyson." She kissed his cheek a second time, this time a bit more intimately, then stood tall over him and said bluntly, "Gotta pee. Be right back."
Marla turned and headed for the back of the restaurant. She wanted to look back to see if James was scoping out her ass, so wonderfully displayed in her tight fitting, jean mini skirt. She had already caught him taking quick glances at her bosom, lifted high and inward by a bra that allowed her nipples to reveal themselves occasionally when her own lustful thoughts -- or a chill breeze passing through the bar -- caused them to harden under the two thin layers.
But she would just have to believe he ogled her as she didn't turn to look. As she was finishing in the Ladies Room and exiting to the hallway again, her phone chimed with a text that came with a very specific tone. Marla immediately stopped, looked for a quiet little corner, and opened the message. She tapped in a code to get through the encryption, then tapped out a second code to open a video.
On the phone's screen was an image from a camera she'd hidden two weeks earlier in the overhead of the office used by one of the Baker Boys' accountants. Robert Wilson had been a very difficult man to get to know, a man with very few habits. Marla had only learned two things to be consistent about him: first, he always traveled with escorts from the Boys, usually just two but sometimes three; and he never spent more than an hour in the office, processing the legal-appearing deposits for the illegally gained drug cash.
It could be weeks before Marla got another chance to get to the man, and here she was out on a date with a cop! She looked out from the hall into the restaurant's seating area at James. She'd really been enjoying herself, and she didn't want to mess up this night -- and possibly more -- by just suddenly excusing herself. What the hell would she say?
An object caught Marla's eye, and she rolled her head and laughed, amazed that she was even thinking such a thing. And yet, a moment later, she reached out and pulled the Fire Alarm lever down. The siren began wailing repetitiously and the emergency strobes began flashing. Dozens of diners between Marla and James rose, some in panic, some with calm; the Hostess and various Servers began immediately gesturing the guests toward the four exits.
And Marla slipped out the back, running quickly for the street and a taxi that had just come into view. She gave the man her address, then quickly typed a message and sent it to the cell number James had given her:
.
She checked his response, waited a few more blocks, then sent him a second message:
After that, Marla turned her phone off, and a moment later the taxi was pulling up to her apartment. She paid the driver cash, hurried upstairs, changed into something darker and more appropriate for what she was going to do, and slipped out the back of the apartment building into a dark alley.
There, she opened one of the many chain link cages provided at an additional cost to tenants. She rolled out her Yamaha crotch rocket. She'd removed the shine from the paint job and the helmet with light weight sand paper to make them less obvious on the streets at night. Even the matching leather jacket and riding chaps she next donned were flat black to better hide her while on the road.
After a ten minute ride through narrow streets and dark alleys, Marla cut the bike's motor after having sped it up to 60mph, then let it coast down almost three blocks before turning it into a parking lot and then into a black alley. She parked it in the dark shadows between the building wall and a delivery truck, stripped off the helmet and leathers, and made her way up a fire escape, across a roof top, down most of another fire escape, and in through a 3rd floor hallway window with a lock that she'd already rigged to look locked when it wasn't.
She's seen two Baker Street Boys out front of the building as she'd coasted through the dark, and now -- as expected -- she found two more in the hallway around the corner from where she'd entered. They weren't doing their job very well and didn't see her coming at them until it was too late. She let six rounds loose from the sound-suppressed Beretta, dropping them to the floor before either of them even got their own weapon out of their belts.
"What the hell is going on out--" the accountant began, his voice obvious through the thin walls of the low rent building. He opened the door, found the dead men at his feet, and looked up to see the 9mm pointed at his chest. His face was filled with panic, but he very calmly said, "I have more than a hundred thousand dollars in the safe. Don't kill me, and it's yours."
"I'm not going to kill you," Marla told the accountant and she drove him back inside the office. She told him cryptically, "I'm going to set you free."
Twenty minutes later, the both of them descended the rear fire escape and then headed their own directions. The accountant headed for his home to pack up his wife and child and get out of town. Marla had let him pack up the cash in the safe, then gave him the account numbers to three Grand Cayman accounts in which she'd deposited $3 million dollars of the money she'd stolen from his clients days earlier.
"If you ever return to Austin," she'd warned him at the bottom of the fire escape, "The Boys will do ungodly things to you and your wife. If you betray this opportunity that I am giving you to have your life and family back without the specter of the Boys and the Tererros, then I'll do the same to you and your wife … and your son … only, I'll do them much slower … with a whole lot more pain. Don't look at me and think I'm just some little girl with a toy gun."
She got back on her bike after he'd run for the end of the alley and headed off. But she didn't head back home immediately. Instead, Marla stopped at the corner opposite the Austin Police Department Precinct out of which James had told her he worked. She paid a homeless guy $300 to deliver to the precinct a padded envelope addressed to one Detective James Tyson.
When he got the envelope the next day -- or earlier, in case someone called him about it -- he would find a flash drive with money laundering banking information for the Baker Street Boy's cocaine distribution network. Oh, it wasn't enough to cripple them as an organization; they and the Tererros used multiple accountants and Marla had only been able to get to one. But it would be enough to cost them millions in losses.
The best part of it was the information that would send a dozen or more gang members, businessmen, and even dirty cops to jail.
She'd always enjoyed being out on the water or on a beach or at the river as a teen, mostly because she'd looked good -- and still did -- in a skimpy, two piece bikini, and the attention she garnished because of it had always been a major boost to the ego.
Of course, nowadays she typically wore a one piece. She still looked sexy, and it prevented -- or at the least delayed -- the questions about the very conspicuous scars a one piece hid, the one on her belly just below and to the left of her belly button where she'd taken a knife, as well as the one just below her right breast where a bullet had penetrated her rib cage and then her lung.
James spoke of having had to take lives, plural she assumed by the fact that he'd said more than I wanted to.
"I can't imagine how hard that must be on a person," she lied with a sincere tone of sympathy. "Even bad guys, like you said. You know, they gave me additionally gun handling training in the Navy, 'cause I was sent to Bagdad once, to help train some American and Iraqi soldiers. Never had to carry a gun there, though, thank god. I don't know if I would ever pull the trigger on someone."
"If you play your cards right," he said after she'd spoken about maybe getting a job in gun handling and shooting, "I'd be glad to take you to our range, we can have guests and the ammo is free."
Marla hadn't failed to notice that James had suggested a second date a couple of times, nor had she noticed that he'd seemed a bit embarrassed about perhaps moving too quickly.
"Speaking of guns, JT … are you afraid you might be jumping one … getting ahead of yourself?" she asked with a devilish smirk. She giggled, then quickly said, "We are going out again. I guarantee it."
Marla stood, sipped more of her margarita, then leaned in to kiss James on his cheek. She said close to his ear, "Relax … and enjoy the evening. I like you, James Tyson." She kissed his cheek a second time, this time a bit more intimately, then stood tall over him and said bluntly, "Gotta pee. Be right back."
Marla turned and headed for the back of the restaurant. She wanted to look back to see if James was scoping out her ass, so wonderfully displayed in her tight fitting, jean mini skirt. She had already caught him taking quick glances at her bosom, lifted high and inward by a bra that allowed her nipples to reveal themselves occasionally when her own lustful thoughts -- or a chill breeze passing through the bar -- caused them to harden under the two thin layers.
But she would just have to believe he ogled her as she didn't turn to look. As she was finishing in the Ladies Room and exiting to the hallway again, her phone chimed with a text that came with a very specific tone. Marla immediately stopped, looked for a quiet little corner, and opened the message. She tapped in a code to get through the encryption, then tapped out a second code to open a video.
On the phone's screen was an image from a camera she'd hidden two weeks earlier in the overhead of the office used by one of the Baker Boys' accountants. Robert Wilson had been a very difficult man to get to know, a man with very few habits. Marla had only learned two things to be consistent about him: first, he always traveled with escorts from the Boys, usually just two but sometimes three; and he never spent more than an hour in the office, processing the legal-appearing deposits for the illegally gained drug cash.
It could be weeks before Marla got another chance to get to the man, and here she was out on a date with a cop! She looked out from the hall into the restaurant's seating area at James. She'd really been enjoying herself, and she didn't want to mess up this night -- and possibly more -- by just suddenly excusing herself. What the hell would she say?
An object caught Marla's eye, and she rolled her head and laughed, amazed that she was even thinking such a thing. And yet, a moment later, she reached out and pulled the Fire Alarm lever down. The siren began wailing repetitiously and the emergency strobes began flashing. Dozens of diners between Marla and James rose, some in panic, some with calm; the Hostess and various Servers began immediately gesturing the guests toward the four exits.
And Marla slipped out the back, running quickly for the street and a taxi that had just come into view. She gave the man her address, then quickly typed a message and sent it to the cell number James had given her:
Went out back door.
Where are you?
I will come to you.
Is there really a fire?
Where are you?
I will come to you.
Is there really a fire?
She checked his response, waited a few more blocks, then sent him a second message:
I do not see you.
No matter. Waitress crashed into me.
Covered in pasta and sauce.
Am a mess and burned a bit.
Need to change and bathe.
Wanna come over? 11ish?
Night cap? Maybe you show
me your gun.
No matter. Waitress crashed into me.
Covered in pasta and sauce.
Am a mess and burned a bit.
Need to change and bathe.
Wanna come over? 11ish?
Night cap? Maybe you show
me your gun.
After that, Marla turned her phone off, and a moment later the taxi was pulling up to her apartment. She paid the driver cash, hurried upstairs, changed into something darker and more appropriate for what she was going to do, and slipped out the back of the apartment building into a dark alley.
There, she opened one of the many chain link cages provided at an additional cost to tenants. She rolled out her Yamaha crotch rocket. She'd removed the shine from the paint job and the helmet with light weight sand paper to make them less obvious on the streets at night. Even the matching leather jacket and riding chaps she next donned were flat black to better hide her while on the road.
After a ten minute ride through narrow streets and dark alleys, Marla cut the bike's motor after having sped it up to 60mph, then let it coast down almost three blocks before turning it into a parking lot and then into a black alley. She parked it in the dark shadows between the building wall and a delivery truck, stripped off the helmet and leathers, and made her way up a fire escape, across a roof top, down most of another fire escape, and in through a 3rd floor hallway window with a lock that she'd already rigged to look locked when it wasn't.
She's seen two Baker Street Boys out front of the building as she'd coasted through the dark, and now -- as expected -- she found two more in the hallway around the corner from where she'd entered. They weren't doing their job very well and didn't see her coming at them until it was too late. She let six rounds loose from the sound-suppressed Beretta, dropping them to the floor before either of them even got their own weapon out of their belts.
"What the hell is going on out--" the accountant began, his voice obvious through the thin walls of the low rent building. He opened the door, found the dead men at his feet, and looked up to see the 9mm pointed at his chest. His face was filled with panic, but he very calmly said, "I have more than a hundred thousand dollars in the safe. Don't kill me, and it's yours."
"I'm not going to kill you," Marla told the accountant and she drove him back inside the office. She told him cryptically, "I'm going to set you free."
Twenty minutes later, the both of them descended the rear fire escape and then headed their own directions. The accountant headed for his home to pack up his wife and child and get out of town. Marla had let him pack up the cash in the safe, then gave him the account numbers to three Grand Cayman accounts in which she'd deposited $3 million dollars of the money she'd stolen from his clients days earlier.
"If you ever return to Austin," she'd warned him at the bottom of the fire escape, "The Boys will do ungodly things to you and your wife. If you betray this opportunity that I am giving you to have your life and family back without the specter of the Boys and the Tererros, then I'll do the same to you and your wife … and your son … only, I'll do them much slower … with a whole lot more pain. Don't look at me and think I'm just some little girl with a toy gun."
She got back on her bike after he'd run for the end of the alley and headed off. But she didn't head back home immediately. Instead, Marla stopped at the corner opposite the Austin Police Department Precinct out of which James had told her he worked. She paid a homeless guy $300 to deliver to the precinct a padded envelope addressed to one Detective James Tyson.
When he got the envelope the next day -- or earlier, in case someone called him about it -- he would find a flash drive with money laundering banking information for the Baker Street Boy's cocaine distribution network. Oh, it wasn't enough to cripple them as an organization; they and the Tererros used multiple accountants and Marla had only been able to get to one. But it would be enough to cost them millions in losses.
The best part of it was the information that would send a dozen or more gang members, businessmen, and even dirty cops to jail.
Homerun2611
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- Mar 21, 2018
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James let his mind drift for a second, "I'd enjoy that." He let his eyes casually glance up and down her fit frame and was quite sure, he'd enjoy it more. The idea of their athletic bodies out enjoying the sun, fresh water, and each other was a most appealing picture to run through the viewer in his mind.
She was sweet, almost tender as she acknowledged his difficulty with the violent, but necessary part of his profession. But then she teased him...first knocking him a bit off kilter "Speaking of guns, JT … are you afraid you might be jumping one … getting ahead of yourself?" only to reel him back in with the finesse of a master fisherwoman, "We are going out again. I guarantee it." She had to see the smile, he sighed a bit, relaxed, the feelings did seem to be mutual.
Some of the tension gone, JT slid into a bit of a comfort zone. He had a quick wit, albeit sometimes a touch on the sarcastic side, but he was pretty sure, given their back and forth so far that she had a bit of the same in her. It would create a nice dynamic, one he hadn't felt in such a long time, one where you keep each other a bit off balance, on edge, but that was where real passion could ignite. He was enjoying the conversation, it was a bit less serious, playful banter, she leaned in and kissed him, albeit on the cheek, "Relax … and enjoy the evening. I like you, James Tyson." It was a simple gesture, but it sent a warm thrill through his body, the second kiss, even softer and more sensual, even lingering, made him want more. He began to turn his head, wanting to feel the brush and softness of her lips against his. It had been a long time since he had so wanted to kiss a girl. She was refreshing, seemingly unafraid, and natural. "I like you too Marla King, very much!" He flashed his best smile, and enjoyed the moment and let the looks exchanged between them reflect the desire he was feeling.
Next, seemingly now quite comfortable with him, she announced, "Gotta pee. Be right back." He laughed, "I'll be here, should we have one more drink?" She got up, and he made no effort to conceal the view he wanted to enjoy. Her physique and lines made men's eyes turn, he could sense other's watching but his focus was on her. 'Eat your heart's out boys, I am hoping she is coming home with me!' His eyes moved almost instantaneously to her thin waist and her tight round little ass, and slender toned legs, perfectly displayed for his enjoyment in her short, tight jean dress. He liked how her ass bounced, she had the body of an athletes, with all the curves in all the right places. The package he watched was sexy and gorgeous, one he couldn't wait to unwrap.
He was just signaling for the waitress when the alarm went off. Suddenly all hell was breaking loose and he was being quickly ushered out the front, "My date's back there, let me..." the staff would hear none of it, "there's an exit in the back, she will be pushed out there...you've got to move!" There was a bottleneck at the door, but he finally got out, when he received her first text. Okay, they were right, she was in the back, but coming to him. There were a couple hundred people in various stages of panic, but he kept looking for her, to no avail.
As he read the next text, at first his heart sank, she'd left? But then the second part, the invite, and a very fun tease! He readied his thumbs and sent his response...
Eleven seemed like a long time, even for a prolonged bathe, it was only a little after 9. He would go home and shower again, maybe even toss a tooth brush in his jacket. The fact they were starting at 11 raised the prospect of a late night or better yet early morning. This was the first woman he had really been into since Katie's murder. He winced for a second at her memory, but his friends kept telling him he needed to move on. Maybe he was ready?
He went home and showered again, it had been so long, he jerked off in the shower. He wasn't sure where things might go, but he was so on edge, if they did fool around, the last thing he wanted was a quick trigger on his gun! As he gripped his large prick in the shower, he looked down at the over nine inches of manhood in his hand. He imagined her in that skirt, remembered her lips on his cheek, and he was instantly hard. The water raining down on him, he enjoyed his first orgasm with Marla King, inspired by her and enjoyed with great satisfaction. He redressed in the same clothes, not wanting her to know the preparation he had found necessary.
At exactly 11 he knocked on her door, and the vision that opened her apartment almost took his breath away. He stepped inside, smiling and slid his hands to her thin waist. He pulled her in, and brushed his lips to hers, and then pressed in, not too aggressive, but clearly expressing desire The kiss was soft, a bit long, and sensual. He broke, but held her close a moment longer, looked into her eyes. "Okay, this is a change I like very much, I've been wanting to kiss you every second since you walked away from our table...I didn't think I'd have to wait two hours...but it was worth it!"
Tommy O'Shaughessy had been the number two or three man in the Baker Street Boys for a while. He was tough but more brains his brother Timmy more the enforcer. Being the brains, he was unsettled, they had no more idea than the cops what had hit them, nor why. They had taken a considerable hit in manpower, but they had many more ready to take their place. They'd survive, but he was concerned, wondered if he had a true enemy, well he knew he had enemies, but this one had heat. He drove up to te accountants office, he wanted to review some things, and was struck by the quiet silence. Where the fuck were his men? He opened the door and was immediately confronted by the two dead soldiers. Well one question was immediately answered, this was not a one time hit!
She was sweet, almost tender as she acknowledged his difficulty with the violent, but necessary part of his profession. But then she teased him...first knocking him a bit off kilter "Speaking of guns, JT … are you afraid you might be jumping one … getting ahead of yourself?" only to reel him back in with the finesse of a master fisherwoman, "We are going out again. I guarantee it." She had to see the smile, he sighed a bit, relaxed, the feelings did seem to be mutual.
Some of the tension gone, JT slid into a bit of a comfort zone. He had a quick wit, albeit sometimes a touch on the sarcastic side, but he was pretty sure, given their back and forth so far that she had a bit of the same in her. It would create a nice dynamic, one he hadn't felt in such a long time, one where you keep each other a bit off balance, on edge, but that was where real passion could ignite. He was enjoying the conversation, it was a bit less serious, playful banter, she leaned in and kissed him, albeit on the cheek, "Relax … and enjoy the evening. I like you, James Tyson." It was a simple gesture, but it sent a warm thrill through his body, the second kiss, even softer and more sensual, even lingering, made him want more. He began to turn his head, wanting to feel the brush and softness of her lips against his. It had been a long time since he had so wanted to kiss a girl. She was refreshing, seemingly unafraid, and natural. "I like you too Marla King, very much!" He flashed his best smile, and enjoyed the moment and let the looks exchanged between them reflect the desire he was feeling.
Next, seemingly now quite comfortable with him, she announced, "Gotta pee. Be right back." He laughed, "I'll be here, should we have one more drink?" She got up, and he made no effort to conceal the view he wanted to enjoy. Her physique and lines made men's eyes turn, he could sense other's watching but his focus was on her. 'Eat your heart's out boys, I am hoping she is coming home with me!' His eyes moved almost instantaneously to her thin waist and her tight round little ass, and slender toned legs, perfectly displayed for his enjoyment in her short, tight jean dress. He liked how her ass bounced, she had the body of an athletes, with all the curves in all the right places. The package he watched was sexy and gorgeous, one he couldn't wait to unwrap.
He was just signaling for the waitress when the alarm went off. Suddenly all hell was breaking loose and he was being quickly ushered out the front, "My date's back there, let me..." the staff would hear none of it, "there's an exit in the back, she will be pushed out there...you've got to move!" There was a bottleneck at the door, but he finally got out, when he received her first text. Okay, they were right, she was in the back, but coming to him. There were a couple hundred people in various stages of panic, but he kept looking for her, to no avail.
As he read the next text, at first his heart sank, she'd left? But then the second part, the invite, and a very fun tease! He readied his thumbs and sent his response...
I hope you're okay
I hope you don't change too much
I sort of liked what I was seeing!
I will be there at 11
As for my gun
It will be holstered
However with the right encouragement it might come out
I'm pretty sure it would appreciate your fingers
See you soon!
I hope you don't change too much
I sort of liked what I was seeing!
I will be there at 11
As for my gun
It will be holstered
However with the right encouragement it might come out
I'm pretty sure it would appreciate your fingers
See you soon!
Eleven seemed like a long time, even for a prolonged bathe, it was only a little after 9. He would go home and shower again, maybe even toss a tooth brush in his jacket. The fact they were starting at 11 raised the prospect of a late night or better yet early morning. This was the first woman he had really been into since Katie's murder. He winced for a second at her memory, but his friends kept telling him he needed to move on. Maybe he was ready?
He went home and showered again, it had been so long, he jerked off in the shower. He wasn't sure where things might go, but he was so on edge, if they did fool around, the last thing he wanted was a quick trigger on his gun! As he gripped his large prick in the shower, he looked down at the over nine inches of manhood in his hand. He imagined her in that skirt, remembered her lips on his cheek, and he was instantly hard. The water raining down on him, he enjoyed his first orgasm with Marla King, inspired by her and enjoyed with great satisfaction. He redressed in the same clothes, not wanting her to know the preparation he had found necessary.
At exactly 11 he knocked on her door, and the vision that opened her apartment almost took his breath away. He stepped inside, smiling and slid his hands to her thin waist. He pulled her in, and brushed his lips to hers, and then pressed in, not too aggressive, but clearly expressing desire The kiss was soft, a bit long, and sensual. He broke, but held her close a moment longer, looked into her eyes. "Okay, this is a change I like very much, I've been wanting to kiss you every second since you walked away from our table...I didn't think I'd have to wait two hours...but it was worth it!"
*******
Tommy O'Shaughessy had been the number two or three man in the Baker Street Boys for a while. He was tough but more brains his brother Timmy more the enforcer. Being the brains, he was unsettled, they had no more idea than the cops what had hit them, nor why. They had taken a considerable hit in manpower, but they had many more ready to take their place. They'd survive, but he was concerned, wondered if he had a true enemy, well he knew he had enemies, but this one had heat. He drove up to te accountants office, he wanted to review some things, and was struck by the quiet silence. Where the fuck were his men? He opened the door and was immediately confronted by the two dead soldiers. Well one question was immediately answered, this was not a one time hit!
CutiePie1997
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Marla had had just enough time to get back to her apartment building, secure her bike, and get upstairs to shower and dress before she heard the buzzer. She looked to the little clock on the night stand and laughed; she'd suggested he come over about 11 and it was now 11:01. She went out to the main hall, pressed the button on the wall near the door -- which both unlocked the building's entrance and turned on the intercom -- and said playfully, "You're late."
When she opened the door, James saw her as he'd never seen her before. She backed up a bit to give him a full view of the calf-length, faux-sequined dress with the wide, plunging neckline that very nearly exposed the pert, swollen, pink nipples beneath.
She studied his ogling of her shape in the tightly fitting gown as she backed, then stopped to let him near her and take her into his arms for a soft but desire-filled kiss. Marla met his lips with hers in a way to acknowledge that the kiss and embrace were welcome without suggesting that they set forth to ripping away their clothing.
"Okay, this is a change I like very much..."
She smiled, then pulled away to do a slow, full turn that showed how the back of the gown dipped to the small of her back and nearly to the upper roundness of her firm, fit cheeks. She turned to face him again, joking in a casual, soft voice, "Tomorrow's laundry day, and this was all I had clean."
He confessed to having wanted to kiss her again. "I didn't think I'd have to wait two hours...but it was worth it!"
"It will be," she said suggestively, giggling as she turned and headed away. "Why don't you find a seat in the living room. Beer? Or I have a bottle of Tiquila."
She took the first left into the kitchen, then stopped quickly to look directly across the hall through the open door of her bedroom. She had tossed the clothes she'd been wearing at the restaurant onto the bed, where they still laid, obviously not covered in tomato sauce. Marla knew she should have covered her tracks better with that outfit.
Before James reached the junction of the hall and the two doorways, she turned away to get the drinks. She wouldn't know whether or not he had seen the clean clothes unless he spoke to her of it later. She called out to him, "It's not much of a place, but it's cheap."
Past the doors to his left and right, the hall continued a few more feet to the living room, which opened up to the left and right. The building was over a hundred years old and had that old feel to it, despite having had its lathe and plaster walls replaced with drywall about twenty years ago. It needed paint and spackle in places. There was water damage in one upper corner. And duct tape covered an electrical socket that the Super had promised to replace for the tenant before the tenant before Marla and yet was still yet to service.
"I wouldn't sit in that chair if I were you," she called out about the ugly old '60s era recliner that was missing two inches of a back leg. "And the couch has a loose spring on the left, so, the middle is the most comfortable."
She emerged from the kitchen with the drinks in one hand and a platter of tortilla chips and salsa in the other. Looking at the store bought offering, Marla shrugged. "As far as Hors d'oeuvres go, it's this or sweet pickles. And just so you know, that Nalley's jar was in the fridge when I moved in."
Marla offered James his drink, standing in front of and over him, and sipped from her own as she studied him studying her. After a long moment of contemplation, she said bluntly, "We're not going to fuck tonight, JT."
When she opened the door, James saw her as he'd never seen her before. She backed up a bit to give him a full view of the calf-length, faux-sequined dress with the wide, plunging neckline that very nearly exposed the pert, swollen, pink nipples beneath.
She studied his ogling of her shape in the tightly fitting gown as she backed, then stopped to let him near her and take her into his arms for a soft but desire-filled kiss. Marla met his lips with hers in a way to acknowledge that the kiss and embrace were welcome without suggesting that they set forth to ripping away their clothing.
"Okay, this is a change I like very much..."
She smiled, then pulled away to do a slow, full turn that showed how the back of the gown dipped to the small of her back and nearly to the upper roundness of her firm, fit cheeks. She turned to face him again, joking in a casual, soft voice, "Tomorrow's laundry day, and this was all I had clean."
He confessed to having wanted to kiss her again. "I didn't think I'd have to wait two hours...but it was worth it!"
"It will be," she said suggestively, giggling as she turned and headed away. "Why don't you find a seat in the living room. Beer? Or I have a bottle of Tiquila."
She took the first left into the kitchen, then stopped quickly to look directly across the hall through the open door of her bedroom. She had tossed the clothes she'd been wearing at the restaurant onto the bed, where they still laid, obviously not covered in tomato sauce. Marla knew she should have covered her tracks better with that outfit.
Before James reached the junction of the hall and the two doorways, she turned away to get the drinks. She wouldn't know whether or not he had seen the clean clothes unless he spoke to her of it later. She called out to him, "It's not much of a place, but it's cheap."
Past the doors to his left and right, the hall continued a few more feet to the living room, which opened up to the left and right. The building was over a hundred years old and had that old feel to it, despite having had its lathe and plaster walls replaced with drywall about twenty years ago. It needed paint and spackle in places. There was water damage in one upper corner. And duct tape covered an electrical socket that the Super had promised to replace for the tenant before the tenant before Marla and yet was still yet to service.
"I wouldn't sit in that chair if I were you," she called out about the ugly old '60s era recliner that was missing two inches of a back leg. "And the couch has a loose spring on the left, so, the middle is the most comfortable."
She emerged from the kitchen with the drinks in one hand and a platter of tortilla chips and salsa in the other. Looking at the store bought offering, Marla shrugged. "As far as Hors d'oeuvres go, it's this or sweet pickles. And just so you know, that Nalley's jar was in the fridge when I moved in."
Marla offered James his drink, standing in front of and over him, and sipped from her own as she studied him studying her. After a long moment of contemplation, she said bluntly, "We're not going to fuck tonight, JT."
CutiePie1997
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Hanna Hughes had been waiting outside the Austin American Statesman building for more than two hours before she caught sight of Alex Jacobs emerging. She hurried to catch up to him, jaywalking across the busy city street and nearly being run over by a truck that had to skid to a stop. The driver screamed obscenities out his open window at her, to which Hanna responded with her own profanity and the lifting of a booted foot to kick out his left blinker.
The man hopped out of his rig, but the quick, sharp squeal of a police siren from a cruiser three places back ended that exchange. Hanna hurried on to catch up with Alex as the driver accepted that sometimes shit happened. As he drove past the hurrying Hanna and caught her eye, he cursed again, "Suck my cock you crackhead whore!"
She grasped the waist of her tee shirt and lifted it to flash an unbridled tit with its pierced nipple. She hollered back, "Suck this cock jizz!"
Hanna watched the truck drive off, turned her attention back to her pursuit, and came to a sudden and panicked stop as she found herself face to face with Alex. Her first reaction was one of regret, for who she was, what she'd become, and how she used Alex to survive. She'd done a lot of bad things, to herself, to her body, to others since finding herself addicted to heroine and opioids 6 years earlier.
But what she'd done to Alex affected her more than all the rest. He'd been her older brother's best friend in high school and then later in college. She'd always had a thing for him, of course. He was so good looking, so intelligent; he could have been anything he wanted to be, and -- though she didn't know why he'd chosen journalism -- Hanna had always thought it was so noble of him as she herself had been a reporter on the high school newspaper.
Then, she'd discovered drugs. And Alex had come to her rescue, on not one, not two, but three occasions. He'd even found her a bed in a rehab facility and somehow gotten it paid for. Hanna had made it 10 days before fleeing out into the streets again, desperate for a fix.
Since then -- that had been a little over a year ago -- she'd accepted that she would likely never kick her habit. And Alex had continued to help her stay one step ahead of death by giving her money on occasion. She always promised that she wouldn't use it for dope, telling him it was for food or clothes or a night in one of Austin's many flop houses.
But she still felt regret for asking, because even if she didn't use his money for powder or pills, it would only free up other moneys for that very purpose. And she knew that he knew that.
"Buy me a burger, big boy?" she asked when she was finally able to smile to him and speak.
Alex always fed Hanna when she came to him for help or with information. Today, she was doing both. He took her to a cart in the park -- the one almost under the window of one of Austin's new residents, one Marla King -- and got her a burger, fries, milkshake, and high caffeine soft drink. It was more than she'd had to eat in the past three days.
"That shooting the other day, the one in that warehouse," she began after they'd spent a couple of minutes saying almost nothing at all. She took a huge bite of burger and fixings, chewed it eagerly, then -- with her mouth still half full -- she told him, "I saw it."
She looked to Alex for his reaction, adding, "I was there. I was squatting with a mate … in … I think it used to be an office … up on the second floor. I saw it. I saw it all. Is that … it that worth anything? To you, I mean. Is that worth anything to you?"
The man hopped out of his rig, but the quick, sharp squeal of a police siren from a cruiser three places back ended that exchange. Hanna hurried on to catch up with Alex as the driver accepted that sometimes shit happened. As he drove past the hurrying Hanna and caught her eye, he cursed again, "Suck my cock you crackhead whore!"
She grasped the waist of her tee shirt and lifted it to flash an unbridled tit with its pierced nipple. She hollered back, "Suck this cock jizz!"
Hanna watched the truck drive off, turned her attention back to her pursuit, and came to a sudden and panicked stop as she found herself face to face with Alex. Her first reaction was one of regret, for who she was, what she'd become, and how she used Alex to survive. She'd done a lot of bad things, to herself, to her body, to others since finding herself addicted to heroine and opioids 6 years earlier.
But what she'd done to Alex affected her more than all the rest. He'd been her older brother's best friend in high school and then later in college. She'd always had a thing for him, of course. He was so good looking, so intelligent; he could have been anything he wanted to be, and -- though she didn't know why he'd chosen journalism -- Hanna had always thought it was so noble of him as she herself had been a reporter on the high school newspaper.
Then, she'd discovered drugs. And Alex had come to her rescue, on not one, not two, but three occasions. He'd even found her a bed in a rehab facility and somehow gotten it paid for. Hanna had made it 10 days before fleeing out into the streets again, desperate for a fix.
Since then -- that had been a little over a year ago -- she'd accepted that she would likely never kick her habit. And Alex had continued to help her stay one step ahead of death by giving her money on occasion. She always promised that she wouldn't use it for dope, telling him it was for food or clothes or a night in one of Austin's many flop houses.
But she still felt regret for asking, because even if she didn't use his money for powder or pills, it would only free up other moneys for that very purpose. And she knew that he knew that.
"Buy me a burger, big boy?" she asked when she was finally able to smile to him and speak.
Alex always fed Hanna when she came to him for help or with information. Today, she was doing both. He took her to a cart in the park -- the one almost under the window of one of Austin's new residents, one Marla King -- and got her a burger, fries, milkshake, and high caffeine soft drink. It was more than she'd had to eat in the past three days.
"That shooting the other day, the one in that warehouse," she began after they'd spent a couple of minutes saying almost nothing at all. She took a huge bite of burger and fixings, chewed it eagerly, then -- with her mouth still half full -- she told him, "I saw it."
She looked to Alex for his reaction, adding, "I was there. I was squatting with a mate … in … I think it used to be an office … up on the second floor. I saw it. I saw it all. Is that … it that worth anything? To you, I mean. Is that worth anything to you?"
Homerun2611
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The kiss had been perfect, not over the top, but clear chemistry and a sense both people hoped for more. He had flirted, telling her how much he'd been dying to kiss her, she teased back, "It will be," letting him know the kiss was just a start, if their romance progressed, he had little doubt. She walked away, and he took a look around. "Why don't you find a seat in the living room. Beer? Or I have a bottle of Tequila." He decided to keep prodding, "I'll do a beer, I'm not a big tequila shot drinker, unless you want to do them friendly, and then line em up!" She laughed, thinking of the fun it would be to lick the salt off of each other's bodies.
He had followed her enough to look briefly down the hall and seen what was obviously her bedroom with her dirty clothes on her bed. Okay, she wasn't a neatnik, that was okay, there were worse faults, but then he remembered why she had supposedly left, and although he hadn't looked long, he certainly didn't see an outfit covered in marinara. Had she, and if so, why had she, lied?
While JT tried to figure out what was going on, she tried to keep the conversation going, "It's not much of a place, but it's cheap....I wouldn't sit in that chair if I were you....And the couch has a loose spring on the left, so, the middle is the most comfortable.""
"You are not leaving me many options...at least in here?" He made a slight reference that there was a large, clothes covered rectangle in the other room where they might get very comfortable. But between the 'friendly shots' and the bedroom, he realized he had taken the flirting too far. She made that clear as she entered the room and handed him his drink, "We're not going to fuck tonight, JT." He had been just starting to take a sip of his beer, and nearly choked as he heard the blunt pronouncement.
"Jesus, you are blunt. Okay, if we are being blunt, why did you really leave tonight? Your clothes in there aren't covered in food, and I don' think there are any burns, but I'd be glad to check in greater detail if you want?" He laughed, he wasn't really made, but he was confused.
"Look, I like you Marla, I thought you liked me, but why the games, why the promise of more, and then the blunt statement now. I'm not a jerk, I wouldn't push for anything you don't want. Although, you know this really isn't our first date. With your departure tonight, and they you inviting me back over, this is at least our second, and if you count our first cup of coffee, arguably the third...so if we did..." He stopped, he was trying to lighten the mood, yet find out what the deal was. "Sorry, I shouldn't keep joking...I thought the attraction was mutual, but if it wasn't, I'm a big boy...do you want me to leave?"
Alex left the building just a bit before 5:30 PM. He had tried to connect with JT hoping to compare notes, either on or off the record. It wouldn't be the first time Alex had helped his old frat brother on a case, or JT had helped him on a story. The text back from JT was quick and to the point:
He had smiled when he got the text, actually happy for James. He knew as well as anyone what Katie's murder had done to him. He had almost given up the force, and God knows he gave up women for a good bit, it was good to hear he might be hopping back on the....horse.
He knew James would always blame himself for Katie's death. James had come down hard on a local gang, arrested the head who was awaiting trial. The gang had kidnapped JT's fiancee with the intent of doing a swap, but somehow in the process they had given her too much of the chloroform, or in actuality she had a deathly allergic reaction. She had died, and a part of JT would always have her blood on his conscience.
He was frustrated leaving the office, he had reviewed the notes of every interview he had taken, and still felt he was at the starting line, he had no more to go on than JT, he was actually more interested in the why it had happened than the who, but they were inexorably linked. She seemed to come out of nowhere, "Buy me a burger, big boy?" She had a sweet smile on her face, part of the paradox that was his high school and college best friend's sister.
"Hi Hanna, what are you doing here?" He asked as if he didn't know, she only showed up when she was in trouble or needed something. He was sad whenever he saw her, she could be so much more, but she couldn't kick drugs, no matter how he helped her, or even how much in the moment he believed she really did want to get better.
"No more money Hanna...food, clothes, a place to sleep...sure...so if it's really a burger you want, let's go, I know a place in the park."
Once they had the food, she ate like she was starving, she probably was. However, she also had information, real information, "That shooting the other day, the one in that warehouse," He laughed, "yeah, the one I have been writing about, what about it?" She swallowed the couple of bites she had gobbled and the sip she had taken. "Take your time, Jesus Hanna, when was the last time you ate?" She ignored the question, "I saw it."
It was too good to be true, way too good, but he hadn't known her to lie to him, well at least about anything other than drugs. He just waited to hear what she had to say, "I was there. I was squatting with a mate … in … I think it used to be an office … up on the second floor. I saw it. I saw it all. Is that … it that worth anything? To you, I mean. Is that worth anything to you?"
Alex looked at her, they had talked a million times, they had laughed and had heart to hearts that were soul crushing. He knew, or at least thought he'd know if she were lying, and she showed no signs. He didn't answer her question immediately, "Hanna are you using, I mean right now, today have you used? Heroine, anything?....It is obvious you haven't been eating, where are you sleeping? Where is your stuff?"
He took a deep breath, this was probably a mistake. "You're coming with me tonight. I was just going to make some spaghetti and maybe watch a movie, it has been a long week. You need a good night's sleep or two, and some real food. To answer your question, yes it is worth something, we can discuss what that is, I want to understand everything you saw. Somehow I don't think you just happened to be there, no one is that lucky. Were the Baker Street Boys your dealers?"
Before she could answer he put up his hand. "Not now, we have plenty of time to talk, but I won't take no for an answer, you are coming with me tonight, and I am going to take care of you...and we will talk." She had wolfed down the food and drink, he only hoped her empty stomach could keep it down. It was too bad, she was smart, could be cute, real cute, if she gave herself even a bit of a chance. He got up and reached out his hand, "let's go get your stuff, and then spend a day or two at my condo, I have an extra room...I want to hear your story...I will compensate you...but I need to know you're okay too...at least for a night or two?
He had followed her enough to look briefly down the hall and seen what was obviously her bedroom with her dirty clothes on her bed. Okay, she wasn't a neatnik, that was okay, there were worse faults, but then he remembered why she had supposedly left, and although he hadn't looked long, he certainly didn't see an outfit covered in marinara. Had she, and if so, why had she, lied?
While JT tried to figure out what was going on, she tried to keep the conversation going, "It's not much of a place, but it's cheap....I wouldn't sit in that chair if I were you....And the couch has a loose spring on the left, so, the middle is the most comfortable.""
"You are not leaving me many options...at least in here?" He made a slight reference that there was a large, clothes covered rectangle in the other room where they might get very comfortable. But between the 'friendly shots' and the bedroom, he realized he had taken the flirting too far. She made that clear as she entered the room and handed him his drink, "We're not going to fuck tonight, JT." He had been just starting to take a sip of his beer, and nearly choked as he heard the blunt pronouncement.
"Jesus, you are blunt. Okay, if we are being blunt, why did you really leave tonight? Your clothes in there aren't covered in food, and I don' think there are any burns, but I'd be glad to check in greater detail if you want?" He laughed, he wasn't really made, but he was confused.
"Look, I like you Marla, I thought you liked me, but why the games, why the promise of more, and then the blunt statement now. I'm not a jerk, I wouldn't push for anything you don't want. Although, you know this really isn't our first date. With your departure tonight, and they you inviting me back over, this is at least our second, and if you count our first cup of coffee, arguably the third...so if we did..." He stopped, he was trying to lighten the mood, yet find out what the deal was. "Sorry, I shouldn't keep joking...I thought the attraction was mutual, but if it wasn't, I'm a big boy...do you want me to leave?"
*******
Alex left the building just a bit before 5:30 PM. He had tried to connect with JT hoping to compare notes, either on or off the record. It wouldn't be the first time Alex had helped his old frat brother on a case, or JT had helped him on a story. The text back from JT was quick and to the point:
No, I am not available
believe it or not, I am getting ready to go on a date
I may even get laid, but I'd settle for a single good kiss
I've got nothing so far, we can connect tomorrow
believe it or not, I am getting ready to go on a date
I may even get laid, but I'd settle for a single good kiss
I've got nothing so far, we can connect tomorrow
He had smiled when he got the text, actually happy for James. He knew as well as anyone what Katie's murder had done to him. He had almost given up the force, and God knows he gave up women for a good bit, it was good to hear he might be hopping back on the....horse.
He knew James would always blame himself for Katie's death. James had come down hard on a local gang, arrested the head who was awaiting trial. The gang had kidnapped JT's fiancee with the intent of doing a swap, but somehow in the process they had given her too much of the chloroform, or in actuality she had a deathly allergic reaction. She had died, and a part of JT would always have her blood on his conscience.
He was frustrated leaving the office, he had reviewed the notes of every interview he had taken, and still felt he was at the starting line, he had no more to go on than JT, he was actually more interested in the why it had happened than the who, but they were inexorably linked. She seemed to come out of nowhere, "Buy me a burger, big boy?" She had a sweet smile on her face, part of the paradox that was his high school and college best friend's sister.
"Hi Hanna, what are you doing here?" He asked as if he didn't know, she only showed up when she was in trouble or needed something. He was sad whenever he saw her, she could be so much more, but she couldn't kick drugs, no matter how he helped her, or even how much in the moment he believed she really did want to get better.
"No more money Hanna...food, clothes, a place to sleep...sure...so if it's really a burger you want, let's go, I know a place in the park."
Once they had the food, she ate like she was starving, she probably was. However, she also had information, real information, "That shooting the other day, the one in that warehouse," He laughed, "yeah, the one I have been writing about, what about it?" She swallowed the couple of bites she had gobbled and the sip she had taken. "Take your time, Jesus Hanna, when was the last time you ate?" She ignored the question, "I saw it."
It was too good to be true, way too good, but he hadn't known her to lie to him, well at least about anything other than drugs. He just waited to hear what she had to say, "I was there. I was squatting with a mate … in … I think it used to be an office … up on the second floor. I saw it. I saw it all. Is that … it that worth anything? To you, I mean. Is that worth anything to you?"
Alex looked at her, they had talked a million times, they had laughed and had heart to hearts that were soul crushing. He knew, or at least thought he'd know if she were lying, and she showed no signs. He didn't answer her question immediately, "Hanna are you using, I mean right now, today have you used? Heroine, anything?....It is obvious you haven't been eating, where are you sleeping? Where is your stuff?"
He took a deep breath, this was probably a mistake. "You're coming with me tonight. I was just going to make some spaghetti and maybe watch a movie, it has been a long week. You need a good night's sleep or two, and some real food. To answer your question, yes it is worth something, we can discuss what that is, I want to understand everything you saw. Somehow I don't think you just happened to be there, no one is that lucky. Were the Baker Street Boys your dealers?"
Before she could answer he put up his hand. "Not now, we have plenty of time to talk, but I won't take no for an answer, you are coming with me tonight, and I am going to take care of you...and we will talk." She had wolfed down the food and drink, he only hoped her empty stomach could keep it down. It was too bad, she was smart, could be cute, real cute, if she gave herself even a bit of a chance. He got up and reached out his hand, "let's go get your stuff, and then spend a day or two at my condo, I have an extra room...I want to hear your story...I will compensate you...but I need to know you're okay too...at least for a night or two?
CutiePie1997
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"Jesus, you are blunt," James responded when Marla told him they wouldn't be having sex that night.
She shrugged playfully, causing one of the straps of her dress to fall off her shoulder, nearly exposing the nipple on that side. Actually, if it hadn't been swollen and pressing outward, preventing the further descent of the descending neckline, the nipple probably would had said hello to the man.
Marla fixed the strap, apologizing, "I know, I'm sorry. I … I wasn't teasing you, JT. Maybe I shouldn't have invited you over … or dressed this way. I promise, though … I'm not a tease. I'm just not … well, I'm not very good at this. Dating, I mean."
"Okay, if we are being blunt..."
James confirmed that he had in fact caught Marla's goof with the clothes that were should have looked like an infant had barfed all over them. When he asked why she'd left, Marla lied, "I was nervous. Things were going so well … you were being so nice … I was, well, a bit horny and drinking Tequila and--"
She looked down at his body with a conspicuously devilish smile before complimenting in a way that contradicted her statement that they weren't going to fuck, "--and I wanted to mount you right there at the table, to be honest."
James told Marla that he liked her and more, then asked, "...do you want me to leave?"
Without hesitation, Marla said, "It would be best if you did."
She saw his reaction, smiled, giggled, and blushed. She reached for her dress at about midthigh and began pulling it upwards with curling fingers; at the same time she'd stepped out of her flats and moved forward to crawl up into James's lap. Marla leaned downward to press her mouth to his in what she hopped would be a lengthy, soft, erotic kiss.
When their mouths separated, if he hadn't totally freaked out from her flip-flopping presentation, Marla would whisper, "Please … don't leave."
Hanna was instantly disappointed when Alex told her, "No more money Hanna..."
She loved her long time friend and frequent savior's company, but what she really needed right now was cash. But then he offered, "...food, clothes, a place to sleep...sure...so if it's really a burger you want, let's go, I know a place in the park."
She'd nearly devoured her meal and said all she needed to get his attention when Alex asked, "Hanna are you using, I mean right now, today have you used?"
"No...! she said, doing her best to lie convincingly.
"Heroine, anything?
"No! I'm clean, Alex, I'm not high!"
It was true, of course, she wasn't high. But that was only because her last fix had worn off hours ago.
"It is obvious you haven't been eating, where are you sleeping? Where is your stuff?"
She reached to his basket, stole an onion ring, dipped into the mustard, and stuffed it into her mouth. Crumbs spewed forth, causing her to laugh before answering, "My stuff's in a car … couple blocks from here."
"You're coming with me tonight,"
She laughed again. Gesturing to the nearly finished meal before them, Hanna joked, "So, first date and you think you can take me home to your place."
He told her he'd make her dinner, after which they could talk about what she'd seen.
"Somehow I don't think you just happened to be there, no one is that lucky."
Defensively, she quickly spat out, "I wasn't doing anything wrong!"
Hanna had done a lot of inappropriate, offensive, and even illegal things since becoming an addict. And she'd deserved to be charged and even jailed for those times that she'd been taken in. But she still reacted harshly anytime someone accused her of being a criminal. She wasn't a criminal! She was just … a victim of the system.
"Were the Baker Street Boys your dealers?"
"I'm not using! I'm not high!" she countered again, not nearly convincing enough to satisfy Alex. Not meaning it in the least, Hanna begin telling him, "You know, maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just--"
But Alex cut her off, stressed that she was going home with him, and told her, "Let's go get your stuff."
She feigned reluctance for a moment, but inside Hanna was jumping for joy. She tried to save the rest of Alex's onion rings for later, but after he reminded her that he was cooking for her, she just stuffed two more of them into her mouth before wiping her greasy fingers on her already filthy jeans.
She took him down the street and into an alley to a row of abandoned cars where she'd left her things. But when they got there she'd either forgotten which car she'd put her things in or someone had stolen them. She swore a bit, tossed a rock at a homeless guy who'd pissed on her once upon a time, and told Alex, "Fuck it! There wasn't nothing worth keeping!"
In all honesty, that had likely been true. Hanna had pawned anything and everything of value to her long ago, and anything she'd appropriated recently had been immediately traded or sold for her next hit. She wrapped an arm into the crook of Alex's elbow and told him, "Let's go. This place stinking fucks." She laughed, correcting incorrectly before laughing again, "Stucking finks!"
They very nearly made it to Alex's car before she hurried away from him to behind a dumpster to throw up everything she'd just wolfed down. After that, she didn't really remember much of what came next. She only knew that her best friend in the world was taking care of her.
She shrugged playfully, causing one of the straps of her dress to fall off her shoulder, nearly exposing the nipple on that side. Actually, if it hadn't been swollen and pressing outward, preventing the further descent of the descending neckline, the nipple probably would had said hello to the man.
Marla fixed the strap, apologizing, "I know, I'm sorry. I … I wasn't teasing you, JT. Maybe I shouldn't have invited you over … or dressed this way. I promise, though … I'm not a tease. I'm just not … well, I'm not very good at this. Dating, I mean."
"Okay, if we are being blunt..."
James confirmed that he had in fact caught Marla's goof with the clothes that were should have looked like an infant had barfed all over them. When he asked why she'd left, Marla lied, "I was nervous. Things were going so well … you were being so nice … I was, well, a bit horny and drinking Tequila and--"
She looked down at his body with a conspicuously devilish smile before complimenting in a way that contradicted her statement that they weren't going to fuck, "--and I wanted to mount you right there at the table, to be honest."
James told Marla that he liked her and more, then asked, "...do you want me to leave?"
Without hesitation, Marla said, "It would be best if you did."
She saw his reaction, smiled, giggled, and blushed. She reached for her dress at about midthigh and began pulling it upwards with curling fingers; at the same time she'd stepped out of her flats and moved forward to crawl up into James's lap. Marla leaned downward to press her mouth to his in what she hopped would be a lengthy, soft, erotic kiss.
When their mouths separated, if he hadn't totally freaked out from her flip-flopping presentation, Marla would whisper, "Please … don't leave."
*******
Hanna was instantly disappointed when Alex told her, "No more money Hanna..."
She loved her long time friend and frequent savior's company, but what she really needed right now was cash. But then he offered, "...food, clothes, a place to sleep...sure...so if it's really a burger you want, let's go, I know a place in the park."
She'd nearly devoured her meal and said all she needed to get his attention when Alex asked, "Hanna are you using, I mean right now, today have you used?"
"No...! she said, doing her best to lie convincingly.
"Heroine, anything?
"No! I'm clean, Alex, I'm not high!"
It was true, of course, she wasn't high. But that was only because her last fix had worn off hours ago.
"It is obvious you haven't been eating, where are you sleeping? Where is your stuff?"
She reached to his basket, stole an onion ring, dipped into the mustard, and stuffed it into her mouth. Crumbs spewed forth, causing her to laugh before answering, "My stuff's in a car … couple blocks from here."
"You're coming with me tonight,"
She laughed again. Gesturing to the nearly finished meal before them, Hanna joked, "So, first date and you think you can take me home to your place."
He told her he'd make her dinner, after which they could talk about what she'd seen.
"Somehow I don't think you just happened to be there, no one is that lucky."
Defensively, she quickly spat out, "I wasn't doing anything wrong!"
Hanna had done a lot of inappropriate, offensive, and even illegal things since becoming an addict. And she'd deserved to be charged and even jailed for those times that she'd been taken in. But she still reacted harshly anytime someone accused her of being a criminal. She wasn't a criminal! She was just … a victim of the system.
"Were the Baker Street Boys your dealers?"
"I'm not using! I'm not high!" she countered again, not nearly convincing enough to satisfy Alex. Not meaning it in the least, Hanna begin telling him, "You know, maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just--"
But Alex cut her off, stressed that she was going home with him, and told her, "Let's go get your stuff."
She feigned reluctance for a moment, but inside Hanna was jumping for joy. She tried to save the rest of Alex's onion rings for later, but after he reminded her that he was cooking for her, she just stuffed two more of them into her mouth before wiping her greasy fingers on her already filthy jeans.
She took him down the street and into an alley to a row of abandoned cars where she'd left her things. But when they got there she'd either forgotten which car she'd put her things in or someone had stolen them. She swore a bit, tossed a rock at a homeless guy who'd pissed on her once upon a time, and told Alex, "Fuck it! There wasn't nothing worth keeping!"
In all honesty, that had likely been true. Hanna had pawned anything and everything of value to her long ago, and anything she'd appropriated recently had been immediately traded or sold for her next hit. She wrapped an arm into the crook of Alex's elbow and told him, "Let's go. This place stinking fucks." She laughed, correcting incorrectly before laughing again, "Stucking finks!"
They very nearly made it to Alex's car before she hurried away from him to behind a dumpster to throw up everything she'd just wolfed down. After that, she didn't really remember much of what came next. She only knew that her best friend in the world was taking care of her.
Homerun2611
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It was one of the biggest back and forth, hot and cold, conversations he had ever had, he felt like he was...16 again, trying to read the signals of a 16 year old girl trying to decide if she was a vestal virgin...or the same sort of slut her friends seemed to be, and also seemed to be enjoying greatly. He had fucking hated those nights and had been thrilled to become a man with all that behind him...well the clock just spun back. "I know, I'm sorry. I … I wasn't teasing you, JT. Maybe I shouldn't have invited you over … or dressed this way. I promise, though … I'm not a tease. I'm just not … well, I'm not very good at this. Dating, I mean." He smiled, but then asked the question why she had left, and things unwound a bit further.
"I was nervous. Things were going so well … you were being so nice … I was, well, a bit horny and drinking Tequila and----and I wanted to mount you right there at the table, to be honest." All of a sudden he felt he was maybe being played, but why? He asked if he should leave.
"It would be best if you did." Okay, that was that, he put his hands on the cushions of the old sofa. He was obviously beyond rusty, he had thought she was into him too, hell she'd invited him over to her house at 11 PM, who did that for someone they weren't interested in.
However, before he could even put his weight on his hands, she was giggling, pulling her dress up, and his eyes could only watch, momentarily paralyzed, and utterly confused. She was suddenly on top of him, her legs straddled across his lap, leaning into him, lips soft and slightly open and suddenly the smooth wet muscles of their tongues were coiled and doing their own erotic dance, breathing bacame more staggered, and hearts were clearly pumpling. She was a good kisser, and when she broke, the hot side of this seemingly bipolar girl was back. Her breath on his ear was hot, the whisper sultry, "Please … don't leave."
He didn't say anything for a second, instead he leaned in and kissed her again, longer, softer, wetter and even more passionate than the first. He slid his hands from down beside himself, with the speed and agility of a former Division One athlete up inside the hem of her pulled up dress, currently riding high on her amazingly shapely thighs. He moved quickly past her panties and was soon clutching her bare waist. He heard her gasp, and knew she was about to pull back or do something so he was firm as he spoke. "Stop...I am not going up...nor do I intend to pull anything down...at least not without your concurrence. I am good by the way, maybe more than a bit out of practice, but it is a bike I know how to ride like a Tour de France rider, if given the chance....Marla, this is the damndest first date I can remember....and...you are a tease...and maybe a bit of a liar. Why though, I just don't know.....I am fine with going slow, I am fine with letting the passions through my body play out...I DO WANT YOU...However, I am not fine being used like a yo-yo. I'm not 16 anymore, and the idea of going home confused and blue balled no longer holds the slightest appeal...So decide what you want...we can stop at any time...but Christ, I am a man, I don't play games...I will respect your desires, but you can't keep flipping back and forth...just be honest with me and I am willing to see where this goes...I don't want to leave...but, like I said, I am not a damned yo-yo!"
'My God, how fucked up is this poor girl?' Alex thought of his friend, it would kill him to see his sister like this, maybe that was why they were now estranged, he just couldn't take it any more.
The next hour was horrific, her things were gone, she barely cared, and then she threw up everything he had just purchased. Any idea he could help her on his own, left his mind. He would get her home, she would surely collapse from fatigue and he would make calls. Try to get her into rehab, see if she would accept it, and if not, not unlike her brother, he would let her go. At the pace she was on, if she didn't do a 180, she would probably be dead within a year, if not 6 months. How fucking sad was this? God damned heroine, it was vicious, cruel and unrelenting.
She passed out in the car as soon as she was in. He stopped at Target on the way to his place and he locked her in the car while he went inside and picked out a small selection of sweats, panties, t-shirts and some flip flops and those rubbery nurse like shoes. He guessed at sizes, but she was petite. The heroine was eating he inside out, not much was left. He also got some food she might be able to keep down.
When he got back back to his condo, he carried her inside, and stripped the stinking clothes off of her. The last thing he was thinking was sex as he saw her emaciated, naked body. He saw the piercing and cringed, just more ways she decided to cause pain to herself was all he thought. He made calls, he could get he into a top of the line facility, all costs taken care of, she was technically an important source. He walked back up in the guest room, she was still out. He looked at the girl, she had once been sweet, kinda cute even, and now she was hanging on by a fingernail. She had one last chance, and in his heart he fully believed this was it. He would give her the chance to try to manage this demon, or he would let her go to let it eat her up...this movie had to end one way or the other?
"I was nervous. Things were going so well … you were being so nice … I was, well, a bit horny and drinking Tequila and----and I wanted to mount you right there at the table, to be honest." All of a sudden he felt he was maybe being played, but why? He asked if he should leave.
"It would be best if you did." Okay, that was that, he put his hands on the cushions of the old sofa. He was obviously beyond rusty, he had thought she was into him too, hell she'd invited him over to her house at 11 PM, who did that for someone they weren't interested in.
However, before he could even put his weight on his hands, she was giggling, pulling her dress up, and his eyes could only watch, momentarily paralyzed, and utterly confused. She was suddenly on top of him, her legs straddled across his lap, leaning into him, lips soft and slightly open and suddenly the smooth wet muscles of their tongues were coiled and doing their own erotic dance, breathing bacame more staggered, and hearts were clearly pumpling. She was a good kisser, and when she broke, the hot side of this seemingly bipolar girl was back. Her breath on his ear was hot, the whisper sultry, "Please … don't leave."
He didn't say anything for a second, instead he leaned in and kissed her again, longer, softer, wetter and even more passionate than the first. He slid his hands from down beside himself, with the speed and agility of a former Division One athlete up inside the hem of her pulled up dress, currently riding high on her amazingly shapely thighs. He moved quickly past her panties and was soon clutching her bare waist. He heard her gasp, and knew she was about to pull back or do something so he was firm as he spoke. "Stop...I am not going up...nor do I intend to pull anything down...at least not without your concurrence. I am good by the way, maybe more than a bit out of practice, but it is a bike I know how to ride like a Tour de France rider, if given the chance....Marla, this is the damndest first date I can remember....and...you are a tease...and maybe a bit of a liar. Why though, I just don't know.....I am fine with going slow, I am fine with letting the passions through my body play out...I DO WANT YOU...However, I am not fine being used like a yo-yo. I'm not 16 anymore, and the idea of going home confused and blue balled no longer holds the slightest appeal...So decide what you want...we can stop at any time...but Christ, I am a man, I don't play games...I will respect your desires, but you can't keep flipping back and forth...just be honest with me and I am willing to see where this goes...I don't want to leave...but, like I said, I am not a damned yo-yo!"
*******
'My God, how fucked up is this poor girl?' Alex thought of his friend, it would kill him to see his sister like this, maybe that was why they were now estranged, he just couldn't take it any more.
The next hour was horrific, her things were gone, she barely cared, and then she threw up everything he had just purchased. Any idea he could help her on his own, left his mind. He would get her home, she would surely collapse from fatigue and he would make calls. Try to get her into rehab, see if she would accept it, and if not, not unlike her brother, he would let her go. At the pace she was on, if she didn't do a 180, she would probably be dead within a year, if not 6 months. How fucking sad was this? God damned heroine, it was vicious, cruel and unrelenting.
She passed out in the car as soon as she was in. He stopped at Target on the way to his place and he locked her in the car while he went inside and picked out a small selection of sweats, panties, t-shirts and some flip flops and those rubbery nurse like shoes. He guessed at sizes, but she was petite. The heroine was eating he inside out, not much was left. He also got some food she might be able to keep down.
When he got back back to his condo, he carried her inside, and stripped the stinking clothes off of her. The last thing he was thinking was sex as he saw her emaciated, naked body. He saw the piercing and cringed, just more ways she decided to cause pain to herself was all he thought. He made calls, he could get he into a top of the line facility, all costs taken care of, she was technically an important source. He walked back up in the guest room, she was still out. He looked at the girl, she had once been sweet, kinda cute even, and now she was hanging on by a fingernail. She had one last chance, and in his heart he fully believed this was it. He would give her the chance to try to manage this demon, or he would let her go to let it eat her up...this movie had to end one way or the other?
CutiePie1997
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Marla was pleased when James joined her in the passionate kiss, but when she felt his hands up her dress and around her waist, she pulled back, whispering, "No!"
"Stop...I am not going up..."
He began explaining his feelings, holding Marla tightly so she couldn't move away from him. She could have gotten away, of course, but it would have left him with a broken nose, maybe some bent back fingers, a cracked rib. Sometimes Marla had a shoot first, ask questions later reaction to things, only with her fists, not a gun.
But as James spoke of how she was treating him like a yo-yo, she only grasped his hands tight enough to prevent him from becoming any more familiar with her body. There wasn't anything else beneath her dress to separate James's hands from her womanly features save the thong; her breasts were unbridled and there for the taking should she release her hold on his forearms.
"So decide what you want..."
Marla knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel James's cock plowing within her. But she just couldn't do it. Not yet. No matter what her body was telling her at this moment, she had to remember what her brain had been telling her repeatedly since meeting him: he was an asset in her war against the Tererros and the Baker Street Boys while at the same time a cop and, therefore, an individual who would have to bring her in if he ever found out what she had done and was yet to do.
She leaned into him, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck and collar bone, her breathing a bit heavier with the excitement that the feel of his hands upon her had awoken. She murmured something, then pulled back to look into his eyes as she repeated, "Give me your hands."
Marla urged his hands out from within her dress. She grasped his wrists, then forced his arms out wide. She kissed him passionately again, then whispered, "Don't touch me. If you do … we're finished."
She pressed his hands against the couch's cushions, repeated her threat that he wasn't to touch her, then moved back on his thighs a bit to better access his belt. Staring into his eyes intently, she unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped him, again repeating and expanding her demand with a devilish smile, "Don't … touch me. Be a good boy … and keep your hands to yourself."
If he did nothing to stop her, Marla would pull his cock out through the fly of his boxers and begin massaging, kneading, and stroking it, while warning him again any time that his hands seemed ready to move back to her.
"Stop...I am not going up..."
He began explaining his feelings, holding Marla tightly so she couldn't move away from him. She could have gotten away, of course, but it would have left him with a broken nose, maybe some bent back fingers, a cracked rib. Sometimes Marla had a shoot first, ask questions later reaction to things, only with her fists, not a gun.
But as James spoke of how she was treating him like a yo-yo, she only grasped his hands tight enough to prevent him from becoming any more familiar with her body. There wasn't anything else beneath her dress to separate James's hands from her womanly features save the thong; her breasts were unbridled and there for the taking should she release her hold on his forearms.
"So decide what you want..."
Marla knew what she wanted. She wanted to feel James's cock plowing within her. But she just couldn't do it. Not yet. No matter what her body was telling her at this moment, she had to remember what her brain had been telling her repeatedly since meeting him: he was an asset in her war against the Tererros and the Baker Street Boys while at the same time a cop and, therefore, an individual who would have to bring her in if he ever found out what she had done and was yet to do.
She leaned into him, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck and collar bone, her breathing a bit heavier with the excitement that the feel of his hands upon her had awoken. She murmured something, then pulled back to look into his eyes as she repeated, "Give me your hands."
Marla urged his hands out from within her dress. She grasped his wrists, then forced his arms out wide. She kissed him passionately again, then whispered, "Don't touch me. If you do … we're finished."
She pressed his hands against the couch's cushions, repeated her threat that he wasn't to touch her, then moved back on his thighs a bit to better access his belt. Staring into his eyes intently, she unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped him, again repeating and expanding her demand with a devilish smile, "Don't … touch me. Be a good boy … and keep your hands to yourself."
If he did nothing to stop her, Marla would pull his cock out through the fly of his boxers and begin massaging, kneading, and stroking it, while warning him again any time that his hands seemed ready to move back to her.
CutiePie1997
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Hanna vaguely recalled the next hour: the car, the nap, the store, the dizzying elevator ride to Alex's condo, the undressing. Although she wouldn't remember later, Hanna made some inappropriate suggestions about what she could do for him since he was already undressing her. She murmured, "Fifty a hole ... three holes only a hundred, special volume discount."
After she was comfortable on the bed in the guest room, Hanna was dead to the world.
But in the middle of the night, she awoke with the trembles. She sat up on the edge of the bed, looking about the dimly lit room for a long moment before remembering where she was. She wore only a bra and a pair of panties and had to laugh to herself about Alex stripping her. Pervert, she thought to herself, giggling.
Hanna stood, wavering unsteadily a moment, then wandered about the condo, finding Alex asleep between his frequent checks on her. In the bathroom, she searched the medicine cabinet for any sort of pain killer, finding only two Tylenol 3 in a bottle with a prescription expiration date of four years back.
Hanna downed both of them, stripped to the skin, and looked at herself in the mirror. She'd dropped almost 20 pounds during her 6 years of addiction. Many women would love to lose that kind of weight, but Hanna was only 5'1" and had weighed only 114# when she first discovered opioids. Her current weight of 96# wasn't only unhealthy, it was dangerous.
She turned on the bathtub's tap and dumped a half full bottle of liquid soap into the rising water. As she waited, she caught sight of a disposable razor. She could break the blade free from the plastic and end all of her suffering right here, right now.
But Hanna would never do that to Alex.
She slipped into the tub and just laid back until the it was full. She knew the prescription pain killers would kick in soon enough.
Hanna didn't know how long she'd been in the water before Alex found her, almost hidden by bubbles that reached more than a foot above the water's surface and had also spilled over to the floor. He had an expression on his face that made Hanna smile and tell him, "Still alive."
She gestured to the toilet, told him to sit. She studied him for a long moment, then spilled, "Little Juan and I were shooting up in that building. The one where those guys got killed. I lied to you, sorry … about using."
She described how they heard sounds, looked down and found an endless parade of armed men entering from two different directions. "It was a drug deal, I knew that. I was scared. They don't like witnesses. Then all hell broke loose. There was shooting and screaming and more shooting. I was scared shitless"
She brushed away some bubbled from her face. "The drug guys -- it was the Baker Street Boys, right...? And the Tererros? That's what the paper said. They were shooting at people I couldn't see, then they were shooting at each other. Then, it was over."
Hanna sat up in the tub, and as she continued the soap bubbles clinging to her chest would slip down to eventually expose both of them. She had piercings through both nipples, -- one a stud, one a ring -- that both were from people who'd meant something to her, which was the reason she hadn't pawned these.
"That was when I saw her. All these guys are laying around the building, dead or dying … and this … fuck, she looked like a girl. Barely taller than me, barely bigger than me--"
Hanna hesitated just a moment, recalling how small she herself was now.
"She comes out ... picks up a pistol … pops a guy in the head, then another one. Then she drops the gun, takes the bag, and leaves."
Mentioning the bag brought a reaction from Alex. Hanna told him with a matter of fact tone, as if she thought he'd already known all about it, "The bag with the money."
She held her hands out, using gestures to describe a bag about two feet long and more than a foot in diameter. "It was full of money. I saw one of the guys open it … show it to the other guys, the Mexican guy. And it was heavy. I know what heavy is. I've been carrying my shit around in a suitcase for years. The way she held it … carried it … it was heavy."
Hanna drank some more, then asked, "Hey, how much money do you suppose was in that bag? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds?"
She couldn't know that there'd been $7 million dollars in the duffle.
After she was comfortable on the bed in the guest room, Hanna was dead to the world.
But in the middle of the night, she awoke with the trembles. She sat up on the edge of the bed, looking about the dimly lit room for a long moment before remembering where she was. She wore only a bra and a pair of panties and had to laugh to herself about Alex stripping her. Pervert, she thought to herself, giggling.
Hanna stood, wavering unsteadily a moment, then wandered about the condo, finding Alex asleep between his frequent checks on her. In the bathroom, she searched the medicine cabinet for any sort of pain killer, finding only two Tylenol 3 in a bottle with a prescription expiration date of four years back.
Hanna downed both of them, stripped to the skin, and looked at herself in the mirror. She'd dropped almost 20 pounds during her 6 years of addiction. Many women would love to lose that kind of weight, but Hanna was only 5'1" and had weighed only 114# when she first discovered opioids. Her current weight of 96# wasn't only unhealthy, it was dangerous.
She turned on the bathtub's tap and dumped a half full bottle of liquid soap into the rising water. As she waited, she caught sight of a disposable razor. She could break the blade free from the plastic and end all of her suffering right here, right now.
But Hanna would never do that to Alex.
She slipped into the tub and just laid back until the it was full. She knew the prescription pain killers would kick in soon enough.
Hanna didn't know how long she'd been in the water before Alex found her, almost hidden by bubbles that reached more than a foot above the water's surface and had also spilled over to the floor. He had an expression on his face that made Hanna smile and tell him, "Still alive."
She gestured to the toilet, told him to sit. She studied him for a long moment, then spilled, "Little Juan and I were shooting up in that building. The one where those guys got killed. I lied to you, sorry … about using."
She described how they heard sounds, looked down and found an endless parade of armed men entering from two different directions. "It was a drug deal, I knew that. I was scared. They don't like witnesses. Then all hell broke loose. There was shooting and screaming and more shooting. I was scared shitless"
She brushed away some bubbled from her face. "The drug guys -- it was the Baker Street Boys, right...? And the Tererros? That's what the paper said. They were shooting at people I couldn't see, then they were shooting at each other. Then, it was over."
Hanna sat up in the tub, and as she continued the soap bubbles clinging to her chest would slip down to eventually expose both of them. She had piercings through both nipples, -- one a stud, one a ring -- that both were from people who'd meant something to her, which was the reason she hadn't pawned these.
"That was when I saw her. All these guys are laying around the building, dead or dying … and this … fuck, she looked like a girl. Barely taller than me, barely bigger than me--"
Hanna hesitated just a moment, recalling how small she herself was now.
"She comes out ... picks up a pistol … pops a guy in the head, then another one. Then she drops the gun, takes the bag, and leaves."
Mentioning the bag brought a reaction from Alex. Hanna told him with a matter of fact tone, as if she thought he'd already known all about it, "The bag with the money."
She held her hands out, using gestures to describe a bag about two feet long and more than a foot in diameter. "It was full of money. I saw one of the guys open it … show it to the other guys, the Mexican guy. And it was heavy. I know what heavy is. I've been carrying my shit around in a suitcase for years. The way she held it … carried it … it was heavy."
Hanna drank some more, then asked, "Hey, how much money do you suppose was in that bag? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds?"
She couldn't know that there'd been $7 million dollars in the duffle.
Homerun2611
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He had given his soliloquy, in TJ's humble opinion, Hamlet could not have done better. However, she didn't exactly answer him, nor did she step away. He felt her forehead against his neck, heard her breathe, it was as excited as his, some things you couldn't hide. She pulled back, and he enjoyed looking deep into her eyes, if he was ever going to get lost, he couldn't pick a better place. "Give me your hands." It was tempting, but he wasn't one to easily give up control. He felt her take his hands off her, leaving something so warm and inviting was not easy. However, it wasn't as if she was tying him up, if she went crazy, he could overpower her....he had no idea how wrong he was. It didn't matter, if she needed him to trust her, trust he would. Listen to that voice, look into those eyes...there could be real upside in granting her request.
"Don't touch me. If you do … we're finished." He smiled, was she serious? She apparently was. "Are you sure that's what you want? I know you don't really know me yet, but trust me you want me to reciprocate...there is talent in this body...talent I'd love to allow you to enjoy?"
She simply repeated herself, "Don't touch me. If you do … we're finished." He took a deep breath, he felt his cock getting so hard...."Okay, the lady is apparently wanting to drive, who am I to resist?" She repeated her refrain, adding a bit of fun spice, "Don't … touch me. Be a good boy … and keep your hands to yourself." They stared at each other, the sexual tension electric. The muscles in his arms, fingers, thighs and cock were all twitching, dying to touch her as he felt her fingers at his belt, the button on his pants, and finally his zipper. "Oh God Marla...are you really sure...I could do such things to you...things I promise you'd enjoy....REALLY ENJOY!"
"Don't touch me. If you do … we're finished." He smiled, was she serious? She apparently was. "Are you sure that's what you want? I know you don't really know me yet, but trust me you want me to reciprocate...there is talent in this body...talent I'd love to allow you to enjoy?"
She simply repeated herself, "Don't touch me. If you do … we're finished." He took a deep breath, he felt his cock getting so hard...."Okay, the lady is apparently wanting to drive, who am I to resist?" She repeated her refrain, adding a bit of fun spice, "Don't … touch me. Be a good boy … and keep your hands to yourself." They stared at each other, the sexual tension electric. The muscles in his arms, fingers, thighs and cock were all twitching, dying to touch her as he felt her fingers at his belt, the button on his pants, and finally his zipper. "Oh God Marla...are you really sure...I could do such things to you...things I promise you'd enjoy....REALLY ENJOY!"
CutiePie1997
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Marla only repeated as she was loosing the front of his pants, "Don't touch me."
She worked his boxers to match the open fly to the end of his cock, letting the now fully stiff erection out for some air. Still looking into his eyes with a determined expression, she grasped him tightly, kneading his meat, then beginning to stroke it slowly up and down as she dared him, "Show some restraint … keep your hands off me. I know you can do it."
Marla toyed with James's cock for a couple of minutes, shifting her grip this way and that, stroking then not, squeezing hard and then letting go. She pulled his boxers upward to guide his cock back inside them, then pulled the waist band over and down to expose all of his package. With one hand, she gently fondled his balls as the other finally got to business and began stroking him long, hard, and tightly.
"I believe you when you say you could make me feel good," she told him as she watched him react to the building pleasure. "And you will make me feel good … soon … just … not tonight."
She worked his boxers to match the open fly to the end of his cock, letting the now fully stiff erection out for some air. Still looking into his eyes with a determined expression, she grasped him tightly, kneading his meat, then beginning to stroke it slowly up and down as she dared him, "Show some restraint … keep your hands off me. I know you can do it."
Marla toyed with James's cock for a couple of minutes, shifting her grip this way and that, stroking then not, squeezing hard and then letting go. She pulled his boxers upward to guide his cock back inside them, then pulled the waist band over and down to expose all of his package. With one hand, she gently fondled his balls as the other finally got to business and began stroking him long, hard, and tightly.
"I believe you when you say you could make me feel good," she told him as she watched him react to the building pleasure. "And you will make me feel good … soon … just … not tonight."
Homerun2611
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Alex had checked on her almost every hour on the hour, keeping a vigil she probably didn't deserve, but her brother, Rick, did. He had been a good friend...he wondered if she had even heard the news, he was getting married. He had gone away, probably trying to forget, trying to use his medical degree on people who actually wanted to be helped. He had signed up for Doctors Without Borders partly in search of answers, partly to escape, little did he know he would find his soulmate there, Christina. Alex was truly happy for him.
When he did hear her he was pleased to hear the running of water. It wasn't a shower but a bath, he waited for it to stop for a bit and took a chance she was covered but it didn't really matter. He hoped she was at least a bit relaxed. He went to the fridge and filled a glass with ice and coke. He took it into the bathroom, knocking lightly, she was so quiet and he barely saw her, a chill went through his body, had he waited to long? "Still alive." Her small voice emerged through the bubbles and he couldn't help but smile. She did have a quality about her, she always had.
He handed her rthe coke he had brought. He knew she had been lying to him, a fact she would soon confess. Her body would be Jonesing for heroine, he wasn't giving her that, sugar was the best he could do, it would help and she would need lots of it, until he could get her real medical treatment, that was, if she agreed.
She signaled him to sit down on the only chair available, and he heard her story of that night. It rang true, every word. He needed to get JT over here, to talk to her, but she couldn't be on the record, and he knew it, and TJ would understand. She finally finished, "...Hey, how much money do you suppose was in that bag? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds?"
He barely had the heart to tell her. "Didn't you see the drugs? Or didn't you have time too look?" There was enough to kill you and everyone yo know, twenty times over. Given the amount that was recovered the best guess is $6-10 million is what she took...Damn, a little girl wreaked all that havoc, she must be one tough lady. Any idea why she did it, did she say anything?"
He decided to change the topic. "Where is Little Juan...you know as long as he is alive, the danger will never stop for you...and if they/her find out...your life is probably not worth a plug nickle."
He stopped and looked at her, "Hanna, I'm not trying to scare you...frankly you are fighting much worse every day..." He stopped, "How long have you been hooking?" The woman who had propositioned him in her drugged out state, had a rap she knew well, and she had to be supporting her habit somehow?
He grabbed a towel and turned his head as she got out, and then wrapped it around her. "Tomorrow we will meet with JT, tell him what you know, he will know what to do. Then I am going to take you to Windemere, it is the best rehab facility in the state and it is right here in Austin. Hanna, you are going to be dead within a year if you don't stop, you don't change. I am willing to be with you every step of the way, EVERY single step if you will try and let me. I owe your brother that, and I owe you that." He looked into her eyes and hugged her. "I remember the girl you were, I know you think she is gone forever, but I don't believe that. Let me help you, please try...for me...for yourself?"
When he did hear her he was pleased to hear the running of water. It wasn't a shower but a bath, he waited for it to stop for a bit and took a chance she was covered but it didn't really matter. He hoped she was at least a bit relaxed. He went to the fridge and filled a glass with ice and coke. He took it into the bathroom, knocking lightly, she was so quiet and he barely saw her, a chill went through his body, had he waited to long? "Still alive." Her small voice emerged through the bubbles and he couldn't help but smile. She did have a quality about her, she always had.
He handed her rthe coke he had brought. He knew she had been lying to him, a fact she would soon confess. Her body would be Jonesing for heroine, he wasn't giving her that, sugar was the best he could do, it would help and she would need lots of it, until he could get her real medical treatment, that was, if she agreed.
She signaled him to sit down on the only chair available, and he heard her story of that night. It rang true, every word. He needed to get JT over here, to talk to her, but she couldn't be on the record, and he knew it, and TJ would understand. She finally finished, "...Hey, how much money do you suppose was in that bag? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Hundreds?"
He barely had the heart to tell her. "Didn't you see the drugs? Or didn't you have time too look?" There was enough to kill you and everyone yo know, twenty times over. Given the amount that was recovered the best guess is $6-10 million is what she took...Damn, a little girl wreaked all that havoc, she must be one tough lady. Any idea why she did it, did she say anything?"
He decided to change the topic. "Where is Little Juan...you know as long as he is alive, the danger will never stop for you...and if they/her find out...your life is probably not worth a plug nickle."
He stopped and looked at her, "Hanna, I'm not trying to scare you...frankly you are fighting much worse every day..." He stopped, "How long have you been hooking?" The woman who had propositioned him in her drugged out state, had a rap she knew well, and she had to be supporting her habit somehow?
He grabbed a towel and turned his head as she got out, and then wrapped it around her. "Tomorrow we will meet with JT, tell him what you know, he will know what to do. Then I am going to take you to Windemere, it is the best rehab facility in the state and it is right here in Austin. Hanna, you are going to be dead within a year if you don't stop, you don't change. I am willing to be with you every step of the way, EVERY single step if you will try and let me. I owe your brother that, and I owe you that." He looked into her eyes and hugged her. "I remember the girl you were, I know you think she is gone forever, but I don't believe that. Let me help you, please try...for me...for yourself?"
Homerun2611
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He was so tempted, he wanted her...but this was incredibly erotic...and he was lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this immensely. Her hand on his balls, teasing the boys just right, her pace quickening her pressure perfect. She had obviously played this game before, so why not let her play it out. "I believe you when you say you could make me feel good...And you will make me feel good … soon … just … not tonight." He groaned to her touch, he kept his hands as they were, but he arched his back, letting her take him where they both seemed to want to go.
"I hope that isn't an idle promise...I won't move my hands, but can I see you...kiss you...will you slip off that dress...I know how amazing you must look!" He wanted to kiss her...touch her...but oh God he needed to cum. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, he let hs body, his cock revel in her machinations and he...CAME...fuck how he came..."Oh Jesus Marla!" His cock jerked and twitched, spasmed in his hand, and let a fountain of his sweet cream fire in the air and aimlessly splatter down on his chiseled abs and her skillful hands. Rope after rope shot in the air, it had been so long since he had enjoyed the touch of another, and his large cock fired high and proud. He sighed as he started to finish, his cum seemingly everywhere. "Kiss me Marla...can I have that...that was amazing!"
"I hope that isn't an idle promise...I won't move my hands, but can I see you...kiss you...will you slip off that dress...I know how amazing you must look!" He wanted to kiss her...touch her...but oh God he needed to cum. He rolled his head back and closed his eyes, he let hs body, his cock revel in her machinations and he...CAME...fuck how he came..."Oh Jesus Marla!" His cock jerked and twitched, spasmed in his hand, and let a fountain of his sweet cream fire in the air and aimlessly splatter down on his chiseled abs and her skillful hands. Rope after rope shot in the air, it had been so long since he had enjoyed the touch of another, and his large cock fired high and proud. He sighed as he started to finish, his cum seemingly everywhere. "Kiss me Marla...can I have that...that was amazing!"
CutiePie1997
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When Alex told Hanna how much money had likely been in the bag, her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. She knew that that kind of money existed in the business, but hell, her dealings with dope ran in the twenties and fifties of dollars not millions or more.
He asked, "Any idea why she did it, did she say anything?"
"No," Hanna said, sucking on the coke, desperate for rehydration. "I didn't hear nothing, and if I had, I would have been to scared to know I did. The bullets were going everywhere. Some almost hit us.
"Where is Little Juan..."
As Alex was warning her about how much danger she and her friend were in, Hanna had no idea that one of the stray bullets had found its way into Little Juan. He'd been so high that he hadn't even realized he'd been hit until after he and Hanna separated and ran for safety.
Detective James Tyson would be getting a call in the next couple of days about a young, deceased Latino male with a bullet to the gut, possibly or possibly not connected to what the Press was now hyping as the Mayhem Massacre. Hanna wouldn't know about her shooting buddy's death unless the connection to her was made down the road.
"Hanna, I'm not trying to scare you..."
She smiled and -- though it might have seemed inappropriate timing -- giggled as Alex talked about her higher odds of meeting mortality soon. She'd known for a long time that her death was likely imminent. She'd been raped a couple of times, beaten up more times than that; she'd been hit by a car one night crossing out though traffic and yet somehow walked away with little more than bruises.
"How long have you been hooking?"
Hanna dropped her gaze quickly to the bubbles in the water over her lower body. Of all the things she'd begun doing following her introduction to dope, selling her body for a hit was the most shameless and humiliating of them all.
"I'm not," she responded feebly. Hanna, who had liked Alex so much, who had fantasized about being his girlfriend, his lover, his wife when she had still felt like such a naïve teen while he had already become such a handsome, adult male … she couldn't disappoint him by admitting that she'd become a whore when the times demanded … she couldn't abandon the fantasy that one day she might straighten out her life, get clean, prove herself as worthy, and be his. She lied as best she could with a bit of a defensive growl, "I don't do that."
Of course, she had no idea that she'd offered Alex any or all of her holes while her mind had still been only partially at work.
He helped her out of the tub with his gentlemanly ways and told her they would talk to JT. A chill ran up Hanna's spine at the mentioning of James Tyson, though, it could have simply been leaving the still-warm bath and being exposed to the cooler air of the bathroom. As far as Hanna knew, Alex didn't know that the last time she had dealt with their old school friend had been when JT and a whole passel of cops busted a drug house and squat in which she'd been living.
Actually, she'd looked so horrible at the time and there had been so many names processed, it was very possible JT hadn't even known Hanna was one of them. She hadn't even been printed and charged; she'd just been a junkie, and that hadn't been what the cops were after, so they put her back out on the street with the business card of a less-than-reputable rehab center in her hand.
"Hanna, you are going to be dead within a year if you don't stop, you don't change," Alex warned. He promised he would help her get through, then caused her stomach to turn over with, "I owe your brother that..."
She didn't even hear the part where Alex finished with "...and I owe you that."
Just the mention of her brother was enough to cause Hanna to divert her eyes as they glazed over. Rick would be so devastated to learn that Hanna had become what she was. Hanna didn't think he did; they'd had a falling out years earlier, and their sole form of communication had been emails and social media that Hanna had managed during her more lucid times. Did he know she'd become a full out junkie? Did he know she was living on the streets? Did he know she'd opened her thighs to men to get her fix? Hanna didn't know. Did Alex?
The man currently at her rescue finished with, "Let me help you, please try...for me...for yourself?"
Wrapped in the oversized towel, Hanna moved in close and wrapped her arms around the torso of the taller Alex. She held him tightly, overwhelmed with emotions coming at her from every direction. After a long moment, she sobbed -- but only for a bit before she got control of them again. Then, as if bitten by a venomous snake, her DTs came back. She began trembling again, and she felt as if she'd been suddenly dropped into a tub of cold water.
"Take me to bed, Alex," she said. Realizing what that had sounded like, she tried to laugh but failed and corrected, "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."
Hanna would clutch to Alex as if her life depended on it, which in a sense it did.
She didn't expect him to get her drugs. But if he was willing to help her through, just until he could get her to rehab, she had a connection for heroine and another for opioids.
If he refused to go that way, he probably knew something or someone who could help her with some other remedy. There were a lot of substitutes -- legal or at least less illegal -- to help an addict.
If none of that, then she'd suffer through the night and go with him to the treatment center in the morning. Hanna would put up a fit at the entrance, as most addicts would. But Alex had promised to be there with her, and that would be enough for Hanna to get through the door.
He asked, "Any idea why she did it, did she say anything?"
"No," Hanna said, sucking on the coke, desperate for rehydration. "I didn't hear nothing, and if I had, I would have been to scared to know I did. The bullets were going everywhere. Some almost hit us.
"Where is Little Juan..."
As Alex was warning her about how much danger she and her friend were in, Hanna had no idea that one of the stray bullets had found its way into Little Juan. He'd been so high that he hadn't even realized he'd been hit until after he and Hanna separated and ran for safety.
Detective James Tyson would be getting a call in the next couple of days about a young, deceased Latino male with a bullet to the gut, possibly or possibly not connected to what the Press was now hyping as the Mayhem Massacre. Hanna wouldn't know about her shooting buddy's death unless the connection to her was made down the road.
"Hanna, I'm not trying to scare you..."
She smiled and -- though it might have seemed inappropriate timing -- giggled as Alex talked about her higher odds of meeting mortality soon. She'd known for a long time that her death was likely imminent. She'd been raped a couple of times, beaten up more times than that; she'd been hit by a car one night crossing out though traffic and yet somehow walked away with little more than bruises.
"How long have you been hooking?"
Hanna dropped her gaze quickly to the bubbles in the water over her lower body. Of all the things she'd begun doing following her introduction to dope, selling her body for a hit was the most shameless and humiliating of them all.
"I'm not," she responded feebly. Hanna, who had liked Alex so much, who had fantasized about being his girlfriend, his lover, his wife when she had still felt like such a naïve teen while he had already become such a handsome, adult male … she couldn't disappoint him by admitting that she'd become a whore when the times demanded … she couldn't abandon the fantasy that one day she might straighten out her life, get clean, prove herself as worthy, and be his. She lied as best she could with a bit of a defensive growl, "I don't do that."
Of course, she had no idea that she'd offered Alex any or all of her holes while her mind had still been only partially at work.
He helped her out of the tub with his gentlemanly ways and told her they would talk to JT. A chill ran up Hanna's spine at the mentioning of James Tyson, though, it could have simply been leaving the still-warm bath and being exposed to the cooler air of the bathroom. As far as Hanna knew, Alex didn't know that the last time she had dealt with their old school friend had been when JT and a whole passel of cops busted a drug house and squat in which she'd been living.
Actually, she'd looked so horrible at the time and there had been so many names processed, it was very possible JT hadn't even known Hanna was one of them. She hadn't even been printed and charged; she'd just been a junkie, and that hadn't been what the cops were after, so they put her back out on the street with the business card of a less-than-reputable rehab center in her hand.
"Hanna, you are going to be dead within a year if you don't stop, you don't change," Alex warned. He promised he would help her get through, then caused her stomach to turn over with, "I owe your brother that..."
She didn't even hear the part where Alex finished with "...and I owe you that."
Just the mention of her brother was enough to cause Hanna to divert her eyes as they glazed over. Rick would be so devastated to learn that Hanna had become what she was. Hanna didn't think he did; they'd had a falling out years earlier, and their sole form of communication had been emails and social media that Hanna had managed during her more lucid times. Did he know she'd become a full out junkie? Did he know she was living on the streets? Did he know she'd opened her thighs to men to get her fix? Hanna didn't know. Did Alex?
The man currently at her rescue finished with, "Let me help you, please try...for me...for yourself?"
Wrapped in the oversized towel, Hanna moved in close and wrapped her arms around the torso of the taller Alex. She held him tightly, overwhelmed with emotions coming at her from every direction. After a long moment, she sobbed -- but only for a bit before she got control of them again. Then, as if bitten by a venomous snake, her DTs came back. She began trembling again, and she felt as if she'd been suddenly dropped into a tub of cold water.
"Take me to bed, Alex," she said. Realizing what that had sounded like, she tried to laugh but failed and corrected, "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."
Hanna would clutch to Alex as if her life depended on it, which in a sense it did.
She didn't expect him to get her drugs. But if he was willing to help her through, just until he could get her to rehab, she had a connection for heroine and another for opioids.
If he refused to go that way, he probably knew something or someone who could help her with some other remedy. There were a lot of substitutes -- legal or at least less illegal -- to help an addict.
If none of that, then she'd suffer through the night and go with him to the treatment center in the morning. Hanna would put up a fit at the entrance, as most addicts would. But Alex had promised to be there with her, and that would be enough for Hanna to get through the door.
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CutiePie1997
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As Marla watched James's reactions to her stroking him, he practically begged, "...but can I see you...kiss you...will you slip off that dress...I know how amazing you must look!"
She wanted to do what he asked so badly. Marla wanted to strip off her dress, press her breasts to James's mouth, shove his cock inside her, ride him until she herself was screaming in ecstasy as he himself was about to. But she couldn't. No, she wouldn't!
Suddenly, he erupted, sending a massive wad of cum up into the air before her. Marla had been expecting it, and yet it surprised her to see the jizz almost hang before her face before splashing down upon his chest. Another volley, then another, then more, until finally each pump was only adding to the pool of cum building around the head of his cock with her thumb and forefinger acting like a semen dike, saving the rest of the groin from the flood.
"Oh Jesus Marla!"
She smiled proudly at seeing what she'd done to him. There had been times in her life when pleasing her partner had been more important than pleasing herself. This was one of those.
"Kiss me Marla...can I have that...that was amazing!"
Without putting her scantily clad body any closer to him, Marla leaned in to press her lips to James's in a soft but erotic kiss. She whispered, "Don't move. I'm going to get a warm cloth to clean you up."
Marla urged James down onto the couch, even pulling his feet up to the cushions to get comfortable. She went to the kitchen, washed his cum off her hand, wet a cloth with warm water, and returned to sit next to him. She looked down into his face, smiling, pleased with what she'd done to him.
"I know you think I'm strange," she began as she ran the cloth over his check, belly, groin, and then his still-stiff cock. "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..."
She let the thought fade as she tossed the towel aside and wiped a dry one over his wet skin. James's body was so well defined, so well cared for. She liked that in a man. When she was done, she asked, "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?"
Her lips spread in a knowing smile. Men always wanted to fuck her the moment they laid eyes upon her. Oh, she didn't think it was about her, of course. Sure, she looked good. Like James, Marla took care of herself, and Mother Nature had been kind to her, too. No, she put most of that desire squarely on man's perpetual want, need, and desire to put his cock into any warm, wet hole that was surrounded with a bit of natural or even body-provided womanly beauty.
Her expression got more solemn as she said softly, "I just … I just need to be held. Can you do that? Or … is it time for us to call it a night?"
She wanted to do what he asked so badly. Marla wanted to strip off her dress, press her breasts to James's mouth, shove his cock inside her, ride him until she herself was screaming in ecstasy as he himself was about to. But she couldn't. No, she wouldn't!
Suddenly, he erupted, sending a massive wad of cum up into the air before her. Marla had been expecting it, and yet it surprised her to see the jizz almost hang before her face before splashing down upon his chest. Another volley, then another, then more, until finally each pump was only adding to the pool of cum building around the head of his cock with her thumb and forefinger acting like a semen dike, saving the rest of the groin from the flood.
"Oh Jesus Marla!"
She smiled proudly at seeing what she'd done to him. There had been times in her life when pleasing her partner had been more important than pleasing herself. This was one of those.
"Kiss me Marla...can I have that...that was amazing!"
Without putting her scantily clad body any closer to him, Marla leaned in to press her lips to James's in a soft but erotic kiss. She whispered, "Don't move. I'm going to get a warm cloth to clean you up."
Marla urged James down onto the couch, even pulling his feet up to the cushions to get comfortable. She went to the kitchen, washed his cum off her hand, wet a cloth with warm water, and returned to sit next to him. She looked down into his face, smiling, pleased with what she'd done to him.
"I know you think I'm strange," she began as she ran the cloth over his check, belly, groin, and then his still-stiff cock. "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..."
She let the thought fade as she tossed the towel aside and wiped a dry one over his wet skin. James's body was so well defined, so well cared for. She liked that in a man. When she was done, she asked, "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?"
Her lips spread in a knowing smile. Men always wanted to fuck her the moment they laid eyes upon her. Oh, she didn't think it was about her, of course. Sure, she looked good. Like James, Marla took care of herself, and Mother Nature had been kind to her, too. No, she put most of that desire squarely on man's perpetual want, need, and desire to put his cock into any warm, wet hole that was surrounded with a bit of natural or even body-provided womanly beauty.
Her expression got more solemn as she said softly, "I just … I just need to be held. Can you do that? Or … is it time for us to call it a night?"
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