Justice... in the Raw!
Warning: "Justice In the Raw" contains violence, explicit heterosexual sex, explicit lesbian sex, explicit karaoke, use of deadly force by police officers, full frontal male nudity, drive-by shootings, road rash, theft, conspiracy to commit theft, conspiracy to commit murder, repeated attempted murder of police officers, lesbian-leaning bi-sexual pagans, binge drinking, opportunistic gorging on cat treats, unethical workplace behavior, unethical real estate practices, destruction of private property, acts of public endangerment, accusations of Mary Suedom, numerous moving violations, resistance of arrest with deadly force, discharge of firearms within city limits, internet stalking, frequent use of profanity, nude calisthenics, hair metal, motherfuckers shot in the face, disruption of traffic, questionable fraternization between co-workers, abuse of veterans, sexting, local talk radio, disturbance of the peace, public indecency, tattoos, bludgeonings, assault and battery, sharp and sudden reduction of property values, vehicular assault, at least one reincarnated ancient European warlord and a complete lack of incest.
All characters are over the age of 18, except the aforementioned reincarnation of an ancient European warlord.
*
"Please don't make me shoot you," breathed Kevin. "Please don't make me shoot you. Please oh please, motherfucker, just don't do it... just don't..."
Standing behind the driver's side door of their patrol car, Officer Tyrone Jackson couldn't hear the way his partner behind the passenger door muttered under his breath. Both men already had their Glocks drawn. "Turn off the car and keep your hands visible!" ordered Tyrone over the patrol car's loudspeaker.
The Bronco in front of them was boxed in. It sat in an alleyway, blocked by a freight truck parked up against a loading dock. Tyrone had pulled the patrol car up behind the Bronco. With less than five feet on either side of the police car, the Bronco had nowhere to go. The guys at the dock moved for cover as soon as they saw how serious the cops were about the sudden alleyway stop.
Drizzling rain kept coming down from dark grey clouds. Rush hour had just started; all of downtown Seattle's streets behind and beyond the scene were already thickening with people just getting out of their offices. Sirens wailed in the distance, but it was anyone's guess if that was back-up or just some other call.
Both uniformed officers waited. Water slid through Kevin's inch-tall spikes of dirty blonde hair, across his thin, toned forearms and down the light blue fabric of his uniform shirt. He waited and hoped.
The Bronco's engine didn't turn off. Instead, the reverse lights blinked on.
"Shit," the partners both grunted over the squeal of the Bronco's tires. Both men flung themselves to the alleyway's walls as the Bronco rushed backward into their patrol car. Kevin flattened up against the nearby bricks just in time to avoid impact. The Bronco didn't hit quite straight on, but rather at an offset of bumper-to-bumper that sent the patrol car skidding back and to its right to slam up against one wall. Pressed against the same wall that the car's bumper struck, Kevin felt enough of its impact through the bricks to understand all too well what it could've done to him. The impact gave the Bronco the last bit of space it needed to escape the alleyway.
Along with the crash came gunshots. The Bronco's driver was busy at the wheel, but the passenger next to him had nothing better to do than try to kill cops. He reached out through his open window with his handgun, firing wildly at Kevin while screaming something. Kevin ducked, but his life was saved mostly by the shooter's abundant excitement, lack of training and a bad angle.
Kevin didn't suffer from such habits of ego. Friends would argue that he was similarly free from the afflictions of common sense. He rushed straight toward the Bronco as it hurriedly backed out to the street, firing a pair of shots from his Glock at the armed passenger. Blood appeared on the spider webs of the windshield while Kevin sidestepped his own smashed vehicle. He put two more bullets directly through the windshield into the passenger as he kept moving.
The conflict spilled out into the street when the Bronco turned out of the alleyway and rammed its already damaged rear end into an oncoming car.
Kevin didn't stop. He ran up to the Bronco, stopping himself against its hood with his free hand while he fired off two more shots. Even at such close range, there was plenty that could cause a man to miss.
He didn't.
The Bronco was still in reverse, but the driver no longer had his foot down on the accelerator. He slumped over to one side in a bloody mess. The engine idled. Cars around the vehicle ground to a halt while pedestrians looked on in shock.
"Kevin!" Tyrone shouted, hurrying out of the alleyway. His leap from the side of the patrol car had taken him off of his feet. It made him only a few heartbeats slower. Blood trickled down from a gash on his head. "Kevin, you alright?"
Kevin tried the passenger side door. It was locked, but the window was down. He reached inside to get the door open, then hopped in over the bloody, expired occupants to throw the Bronco into park. He lingered just long enough to pull the keys out of the ignition.
Neither occupant moved, nor would they ever again.
Kevin slipped out to find his partner waiting for him. At the Bronco's rear, a very stunned and frightened couple came out of their Honda Civic to look at its smashed front end. The sirens drew closer.
"Hey, man," Tyrone repeated calmly, "you alright?"
"I'm okay," Kevin nodded.
"You can put your weapon away, Kevin," Tyrone said.
Kevin blinked, glanced around and finally nodded. He holstered his pistol and stepped back from the vehicle. Third Street was already a mess of honking horns and shocked witnesses. Tyrone paused to clap his hand on Kevin's shoulder, looking his partner in the eyes to make sure Kevin was still there with the rest of the world. A moment later, Kevin's veteran partner turned to take control of the immediate scene.
Kevin looked up to the cloudy early summer sky. The drizzle quickly picked up into full rain. Not for the first time, his light blue Seattle Police uniform—itself barely two years old—was covered in blood.
He turned thirty-two that day.
* * *
"You're uncle's hot, Molly."
"Oh, Jesus," Molly grumbled, pulling the car off 105th onto the darkening side street, "how much of this am I gonna hear out of you?" She looked good tonight, her fire-engine red hair cut short and spiked just the way she liked it. Her torn-up VNV Nation shirt was almost a work of art, and it was finally warm enough to go without jackets or long-sleeve shirts.
"Probably a lot," confessed Onyx, who sat in the side passenger's seat of Molly's beat-up old car with her hands folded in her lap and her dark curls dangling down in front of her face, "because your uncle's really fucking hot." As usual, she went for darker yet more girlish clothes of black silk and lace. She made for a very pretty Goth.
The pretty redhead's eyes narrowed. "Never any parking around this place anytime after eight," she muttered. "Feels like it's still just late afternoon, too. Sun stays up later than a—"
"I'll bet he fucks like an animal," Onyx mused. "All fierce and powerful and possessive, y'know?"
Molly stopped the car in the middle of the street. Her head turned to stare at her girlfriend with daggers in her eyes. Onyx said, sheepishly, "I'm just sayin' I bet it runs in the family."
"I'd better never find out," replied Molly. "Things I don't want to know about my blood relatives. Ew. And let's not bring up the rest of my family, okay? Kevin's the only one who didn't bat an eye over me being pagan or being into girls. Seriously, any one of my relatives who didn't freak when I came out about being one flipped over me being the other and Kevin's the only one who supported me, and even so I am not... ew!"
"I wasn't talking about you doing—"
"Ew!" Molly repeated, swatting Onyx on the knee. "Gross! Don't even think that!"
"I wasn't! That's what I'm saying."
"Even so. You do not get to fuck my uncle!"
Onyx sighed. "Fine... not even a little bit?"
"No! Jesus!" Molly got the car rolling again, finally finding a spot to park. "Look, if we want a guy to play with, we're gonna find him together and we're gonna be in it together, okay? And that means no blood relatives or even marital ones!"
Onyx stared at her lover as Molly turned off the car. "Wait, really?"
Molly looked up at her and shrugged. "Do you want to?"
"I don't... I don't know! I mean I never really thought about it."
"You thought about my uncle enough, you sick-minded tramp," Molly smirked.
"Well, yeah, but I didn't really—I mean he's got eleven years on me, right? I just... I mean... wait, are you serious?"
Molly sighed, slipped a hand up around Onyx's neck and brought her in for a soft, reassuring kiss. "We can talk about it later. You've never gone all the way with a guy and I know you're still curious. I'm open to pretty much anything that doesn't ever involve letting you go. Or my uncle. Ew."
Onyx was floored. "Wow."
"Later though, okay? We've got a birthday therapy thing," Molly said, nodding toward the bar.
"Yeah," Onyx agreed sweetly. She shouldered her purse and exited the car along with Molly, taking her lover's hand as they walked up the residential street to the bar at the corner. She gave it an affectionate, meaningful squeeze as they walked in silence.
Molly smiled and enjoyed the moment.
"Seriously, I bet he's just like a sleek jungle cat—"
"Oh, God."
"—and all you can do is just lay there under him and take it and love it."
"You are not allowed to fuck my thirty-two-year-old uncle."
"I'm not gonna! I'm just saying somebody should."
"Onyx, you do realize that he's a complete goofball, right?"
The younger partner shrugged as Molly reached for the big brass Chinese dragon handles on the heavy wooden door. "That could be sexy," she countered. Then she heard the music, and what technically passed for singing.
"I said you'll pay for this mischief, "Oh, in this world, or the next. "Oh, then he fixed me with a freezing glance, "And the hellfires raged in his eyes..."
Onyx looked on at the full-grown adult on the karaoke stage throwing goat horns as he wailed into the mic without the least concern for dignity. He even wore a fake '80s hair metal wig. "I'm gonna quote you on that later," Molly warned.
"He said, 'you wanna know the truth son? "'Lord, I'll tell you the truth! "'Your soul's gonna burn in a lake of fiii-eyaaaaahh!'"
"Um," Onyx struggled for words as Kevin straddled the mic stand and kept singing, "he's more or less in tune...?" Then she winced. "Mostly?"
* * *
"You missed my first number," Kevin said, hugging Molly tightly as he joined her and Onyx at the bar.
"I did? What was it?"
"Wanted Dead or Alive."
"I'm amazed anyone else is still here," Molly chuckled.
"Hi, Onyx," he grinned, releasing his niece.
"Happy birthday, Kevin," smiled Onyx. Her porcelain skin rarely betrayed any shyness or embarrassment, but at the moment her blushing was uncontrollable. There was a moment's hesitation between the two as if unsure of whether a hug was appropriate or not, and after a nudge behind the back from Molly, he went for it anyway. Onyx's eyes went wide over his shoulder as his arms briefly came around her.
"Can I buy either of you a drink? Uh. You can drink, right?" he asked Onyx.
"About two months now," she nodded. "But it's your birthday. We were coming to buy you a couple."
"Sounded like you might need it, Officer Murray," added Molly.
"You already heard?"
"Yeah. It was a little news blurb, and then I started digging, and then I just sorta put two and two together," Molly explained. They took up seats at the bar. Molly noted that Onyx put Kevin in the middle rather than leaving it to Molly, but gave it no more than an amused, accusing eyebrow.
"Right, so, the Kung Pao here is pretty good," Kevin said in a deliberate shift of topic. He held the menu out to his niece and another to her girlfriend. "The fried rice is a total waste, though. Crab Rangoon's okay."
"Kevin. Tell us."
Kevin frowned, dropping the menu. "Tyrone and I spotted a Bronco that matched the description from a home invasion robbery last night. Five guys killed an old lady and put her grandson in the hospital."
"I read about that."
"Yeah. So we followed the Bronco into an alley and lit 'em up. With the lights, I mean. Got out of our car, Tyrone told 'em to shut the car off. They tried to run us over and shoot us instead. Smashed our car, almost killed us. I shot 'em both in the face. Had to run out into traffic to get the driver."
"Tyrone's okay, though, right?" Molly asked.
"Oh, he's fine. He's mad that he fell when they tried to roll over us. Probably would've been a lot more shots fired if that alleyway hadn't been so slippery. I'm lucky I didn't crack my skull myself."
"Is he going to join us later?"
"Nah. His girlfriend's kid is playing the Dentist in 'Little Shop' tonight. This isn't my first birthday or my first shooting, but how many opening nights do you get in high school?"
"That's a great role," Onyx smiled.
"It is."
Molly took time to order up three Irish car bombs. "Three shootings in two years on the force," she said finally.
"Yeah. Turns out I heard that more than a couple times this afternoon."
"What're they saying?"
Kevin shrugged. "There was a security camera in the alley. All the physical evidence is there. If this isn't a justified shooting, then there ain't no such animal. But I'm still a cop who's been in three shootings in his first two years. Plus there's all the other shit that didn't actually involve shooting anyone, but use of force is still use of force. I mean they deliberately call me out to help with warrants on guys they know are violent, they stick me in the most violent precinct in the city, and they wonder why I've got so many use of force incidents in my jacket? Like I'm the one who goes out looking for that shit?"
"Rookie of the year on your first year, though, right? Didn't you get some awards this year, too?"
"Not sure if I get to keep all that if they have to bounce me."
"Yeah, but you said yourself, all the evidence is on your side, right?"
"Sometimes it doesn't matter. The Department's in so much hot water with all the stuff that's gone wrong over the last couple years that it might not matter how right this was."
Molly spoke after another pause. "Do you think it was right?"
"Well, I don't feel good about it, if that's what you're asking."
"I didn't ask that."
"Why not?"
"Don't need to. But do you think it was right?"
Kevin thought for a moment. He took a deep breath and let it out. "I don't know what else I was gonna do."
"Nothing else you could've done, aside from let them go. Which is what you signed up not to do." Kevin just shrugged. Molly leaned over a bit to press the point. "Those two shitbags and their other three friends—who are still out there somewhere, but now at least they're shitting their pants—those guys all murdered an innocent woman last night and put her grandson in the hospital, and that poor kid gets to live with that. They tried to kill you and your partner. They probably would've killed others. You did what somebody had to do. Just like with both of the other fuckheads you shot."
Kevin looked at her, then turned his attention to Onyx. "This birthday party's cheerful, huh?" he asked her.
"We like you," Onyx said with a shrug and a sweet smile. She even batted her eyelashes at him.
"Their dumb luck for running into a Mary Sue like you, anyway," Molly added.
"A Mary—wait, what?"
"A Mary Sue," Onyx grinned up at him. "She's saying you're so awesome it stretches suspension of disbelief."
"Yeah, I know what it means," Kevin fumed, turning from Onyx back to Molly. "I am not!"
"You are, too," she teased calmly.
"I'm not a Mary Sue! And I'm not a fictional character!"
"You're a total bad ass, you did well in school—"
"You're really hot," Onyx put in.
"—you've got an awesome cat..."
"If I was a Mary Sue—and it's Marty Stu to you, thanks—I'd be able to actually communicate with my cat for real instead of just pretending I know what he's thinking." Kevin took another gulp of his drink. "And I'd have a hot girlfriend. And a unicorn. And a magic sword or something."
"You do have a—wait, what about Meredith?" Molly asked. "What happened with that?"
"Went back to her ex last week," Kevin frowned. "Didn't I tell everyone?"
"Ugh. The useless drunk guy she left for running up her credit cards? How ugly was that?"
"Wouldn't have been ugly at all if she hadn't tried to take Attila with her."
"Attila? Really? I'm surprised you didn't shoot her, too."
"Well, like I said, it got ugly, but that wasn't me. Attila let her know whose cat he is. He's kind of serious about that whole bro's before ho's thing."
"Sounds like a crappy recipe for a birthday," Molly admitted.
"Yeah, well. Like I said, I've had worse. I'm home, I'm not in a hospital and I don't have any funerals on the calendar." He held up his shot of whiskey, clinked it against theirs when they followed suit, and poured it into his Guinness. "Cheers," he smiled, and took a long pull.
Onyx had hers down first. "So what happens now? With your job?"
"Now? Two days of nothin'. Mandatory paid administrative leave after an officer involved in a shooting. I wrote all my reports and statements, got my ass-chewings and my sympathetic talk from the chaplain and yet another appointment set with the same lame trauma counselor from my other shootings, and that's it. They don't want to hear from me for two days. At all. Might as well turn off my phone."
"So wait, you're just supposed to sit at home and stew on it?" Onyx asked.
"Yeah, and I guess that works for some people, or maybe if you've got family to focus on or whatever, but me? Not so much. I mean it's kind of dumb. I'm supposed to get my mind off of it, but all I'm gonna do is sit around thinking about how I killed two guys on my birthday. What gets your mind off that?"
He stared at his empty mug with a sigh. "Worst part is, Tyrone and I were supposed to go talk to kids at a middle school tomorrow. Do a big summer safety thing, be all Officer Friendly and stuff. But I can't really do that when everyone knows I'm really just Officer Shootsyourass."
Molly tilted her head curiously, glancing at Onyx. Her lover knew most of her looks by heart. It wasn't telepathy, but it was close enough. "So there's no reason not to sing yourself hoarse, throw your dignity to the wind and get hammered tonight, right?"
He shrugged. "Gotta be coherent enough to get a cab home," he thought aloud. "Never really needed any dignity for that." He frowned and patted his pockets. "Not sure I even brought any with me in the first place."
"We'll take care of you," Molly offered, gesturing for the bartender.
* * *
Onyx honestly hadn't planned on groping her girlfriend's uncle tonight, let alone this much. As she and Molly helped him out of Molly's front seat, putting one of his arms around each young woman's shoulder, Onyx found she had ample justification for putting her hand against his chest, his side, and even his ass. They had to get him inside his townhouse, after all. It was all perfectly reasonable.
He felt just like she expected: toned and fit without being bulky. Once again, Onyx decided that the women comprising Kevin's string of short-term, dysfunctional relationships must have been nuts. Then again, the fact that he'd had to take restraining orders out on more than a few of them seemed to make that obvious.
"You don' hafta do this," Kevin slurred. "You c'n jus' leave me on the doorstep. I'll jus' take a nap there."
"It's totally not a problem," Molly grunted. Plainly the stronger of the two women, Molly found the task of hauling Kevin inside tougher than she expected. It was less an issue of dead weight than it was of balance and direction. He was trying hard to help. Too hard.
"Nnnnnno, really," he went on, "I've slept outside lots'a timesh. I was in the Army, y'know. Didjou know that? When you were still jus' a kid."
"I know," Molly said. "I remember. You went to Iraq and Afghanistan."
"Ssssuch bullshit," he grumbled. "But yeah. An' I remember you bein' jus' a little girl when I was in high school. You used to play with—"
"You're done!" Molly commanded him loudly. "You're done. Finished. No more of that."
"Okay, okay, sorry," he smiled at her, then turned to Onyx. "Sssshhhhh."
Onyx just turned her head and blinked away all the alcohol on his breath. She knew Molly wanted to get her uncle good and smashed for some specific reason, but as yet that reason hadn't been made clear to her. She staggered on, glad she had opted for her Doc Marten boots rather than anything with fancy heels tonight.
Molly dug around in Kevin's pocket for his keys. She and Onyx kept him upright as they tried the door, needing only three tries before she found the right one to open the lock.
The townhome was dark. It was a simple two-story affair, with its staircase only a few feet beyond the front door and the kitchen opening up immediately to the right. Onyx heard a thunk at the kitchen countertop. "Aw, kitty," she announced.
"Awww, kitty," Kevin slurred. He straightened himself enough to pull away from the ladies, slipping behind them to put his arms out on the countertop around the cat. Molly found the light switch and threw it, illuminating the room to reveal a healthy, almost muscular grey and white cat. The pattern of his fur made Onyx immediately think of snow tigers.
He was also, from his demeanor, quite skeptical. Kevin petted him with one hand, both elbows propped up on the countertop. The cat reached up with a paw to press against his cheek for a moment.
"This is a nice place, too," Onyx observed. "Comfy."
"Prol'y gonna haveta move soon," Kevin complained. "Lan'lady's gonna have a realtor come over an' start showin' it to people. 's why it's so clean." He let out a sigh. "This sucks. Lost my girlfriend. Gonna lose my place. Might even lose my job." Attila then stood up on all fours, flicked his tail and walked out of reach. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure Kevin wasn't going to pursue. "Lost my cat," Kevin added.
"He's just being a cat," assured Molly. "Hey, Attila. Sorry, we just gotta put Kevin here to bed."
"He's gorgeous!" declared Onyx.
"Yeah, he is," Molly agreed with a huff. "Me and that cat are pretty tight."
"He's my buddy," Kevin nodded.
"He's keeping his distance from you tonight, you drunk," Molly said. She slipped around him, looking through his cabinets until she found a glass and filled it with water from the tap. "Drink," she ordered, holding it out to Kevin.
He let out a sigh. "Okay," taking it and downing it as instructed. "'m not gonna have a hangover," he said. "Drank a lotta water at the bar. Took some aspirin. 'm sure I'll be fine."
Molly leaned in to Attila and shared an affectionate headbutt. "You and me gotta talk later, 'kay?" she asked. The cat let out a neutral meow. Molly scratched his head, then turned her attention back to the matter of her uncle. "Up the stairs. I know you can make it on your own. Go. Wait, no, gimme the glass. Okay, now go."
Onyx followed a staggering Kevin and an uncharacteristically bossy Molly up the stairs, waiting patiently for her explanation. Attila remained in the kitchen, watching with inscrutable eyes.
"No no no," Molly said in the bedroom before Kevin could collapse on the bed. Her voice took on an unnaturally firm, serious note of command that surprised both him and Onyx. "Not sleepy time yet. Shower first."
Kevin swooned a little, but nodded. "Okay," he mumbled before he walked into the bathroom, seeming steadier and yet more lethargic than before. He closed the door behind him. Then he opened it again and leaned out, wincing as he did. "Hey Molly," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "your girlfriend's hhhhhot."
Standing in the corner just outside Kevin's line of sight, Onyx clamped her hand down over her mouth.
"I know, Kevin," Molly said.
"I'm just sayin'. You totally gotta hit that. Like, a lot."
"Shower!"
"Okay, okay, sorry I stink," Kevin rambled as he closed the door again. The sound of running water could soon be heard.
Molly turned around with a mischievous grin on her face. Onyx was waiting with her arms folded across her chest. "What the hell are we doing?" she asked.
"We're giving him something else to think about."
"We couldn't just take him out to lunch tomorrow or something?"
"No," Molly said. "We're doing this. Help me grab all the sheets to his bed really quick. Everything but the bottom sheet."
"...why?"
"Because it'll be funny," Molly said, yanking the comforter off of Kevin's bed.
"What's funny about taking his bed sheets?"
Molly didn't answer her right away. Opportunity interrupted her. "Oh. Hey, Attila," she said, dropping down to her knees as the cat wandered in. He leapt up into her arms without hesitation. "Attila, we're gonna steal all of Kevin's clothes! Wanna help?"
The cat looked at her, and then around the room, acting for all the world like an entirely normal cat. As far as Onyx could see, there was nothing odd here happening at all. People talked to cats as if the critters could understand all the time, but everyone knew that was ridiculous.
Everyone except Molly.
Attila meowed again. Molly grinned widely. "C'mon," she said to Onyx, "we've gotta work fast."
* * *
"We need the clothes he just took off in the bathroom. And the towels, too."
"What?" hissed Onyx. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
Molly's huge grin impacted her credibility somewhat as she said, "I wouldn't kid about something like this. We need the towels, too, or he could walk outside with one wrapped around him."
Onyx just stared at her lover with disbelieving eyes. She knew Molly was a prankster, but this was beyond anything she'd expected to see—let alone participate in. The two stood at the bottom of the stairs with Kevin's clothes hamper, his blankets and even the box of clothes clearly marked for Goodwill at their sides. The drawers from his dresser and the hanging clothes from his closet were already in the car.
"How's he gonna dry off?"
"We'll leave him the hand towels," Molly snickered. "Anyway, you gotta go up there and get 'em before he gets out of the shower!"
"Me?!" Onyx fairly shrieked. She lowered her voice to a hiss when Molly shushed her, but didn't lose her intensity. "Why the fuck do I have to go up there?"
"Because I don't want to risk seeing my hot uncle naked in the shower!" Molly hissed back. "You're the stealthier one, anyway. Now go! I'll start moving the rest of this into the car."
Onyx struggled for a counter-argument, but failed. Deep down inside, she had to concede this was hilarious. And fun. She looked to Attila for support. "This is crazy, isn't it?"
The cat didn't respond. "You're not doing it right," Molly said. "Go."
Onyx threw her a glare, then turned away and started up the stairs. She paused to say over her shoulder, "You just admitted your uncle's hot. Sicko."
Molly shot a glare right back at her. "I'm gonna screw you until you can't even remember me having an uncle," she threatened.
Onyx grinned. "Awesome," she said, and rushed up the stairs.
The sound of the shower reassured her as she entered the bedroom. Onyx crept up to the bathroom door, nudging it open carefully and looking inside. Sure enough, Kevin had only half-closed the shower curtain. She had a great view of his naked backside.
She bit down on her fist. Ultimately, she wasn't so hung up on him that she'd throw herself at him. That kind of thing was ridiculous. Onyx had more respect for herself, and moreover, nobody was really that hot. But he was awfully nice to look at: a nice face and body, intriguing scars, the Airborne tattoo behind his shoulder and that adorable ass. He was a great topic to tease her lover over.
Onyx thought about the bad run of luck he'd mentioned downstairs. Some of that had been the alcohol talking; Onyx knew Kevin wasn't one to mope or feel sorry for himself. But she couldn't help but pity him, just a little, and felt a slight pang of guilt for the prank she was pulling. It wasn't remotely enough guilt to overcome her amusement, of course, but she opted to try to make up for it.
Onyx whispered a pagan prayer for luck, concentrating her thoughts on Kevin as she softly sounded out the words. Perhaps it would work. Perhaps it wouldn't. If he didn't leave the house at all for the next couple of days, it might be irrelevant, anyway... and luck was always subjective. Who could even say if such prayers worked at all? Perhaps not getting hit on the head by a meteor on Thursday was luck and one simply didn't know any better.
She finished her plea to the universe, then slipped inside, gathered up his pants, his shirt, his socks and underwear and the larger towels off the rack—and took another gleeful look at his glutes before she made her escape.
* * *
Kevin awoke to Attila pushing head-first under his arm. Satisfied that his human was now cuddling him, intentionally or not, Attila settled back down again. Kevin gave a little smile. Attila was a good cat.
Kevin lay on his belly with his head hanging halfway off the side of the bed, which, now that he was partly awake and considering it, seemed a little odd.
Sensory information pushed his brain along. He wasn't cold, but he wasn't exactly warm, either. He must've kicked off all the covers. Kevin shifted just a little and realized he was utterly naked.
The sun was up, but that meant nothing. It was probably only five-thirty, if even that. The problem with Seattle summers was the ridiculous length of the day; sleeping late became a challenge because the sun went down so late and came up again so goddamn early.
He wasn't late for work, though. No, it wasn't that. His alarm didn't go off. Plus, he remembered now, he wasn't supposed to go in anyway. He was on leave. He'd shot someone yesterday. Two someones. Right.
The bar. Shit. Molly and Onyx. Hopefully they had left before he took off all his clothes and fell on top of his bed naked. After the shower. Right. He vaguely remembered that part.
He must have been really drunk, too, because he remembered just using the hand towels to dry off, as if he couldn't find his regular towels. That was stupid. How drunk do you have to be to lose your bath towels in your bathroom?
He risked turning his head, not quite lifting it off the mattress, to look at Attila. The cat's eyes were already closed, but his ears twitched in obvious disapproval of Kevin's movement. It was a necessary experiment. "Well, 'm not hungover," Kevin mumbled. "That's good."
Attila had nothing to say in response to this. He never did, and it would freak Kevin the hell out if that ever changed, but Kevin talked to him anyway.
"I gotta hit the bathroom," Kevin muttered. "Sorry, buddy." He fumbled and crawled upright, leaving Attila to once again fuss around for a comfortable position on the bed. As he staggered to the bathroom, he stepped on a damp hand towel, and then another. "Must've been really fucking drunk," Kevin mused as he staggered into the bathroom. His eyes hardly opened during the whole process. They even remained closed as he washed his hands. It was the unexpected difficulty in drying them that forced him to look around.
There were no bath towels at all. None on the rack, none on the floor, or hanging over the shower curtain rod. "What the hell?" He shuffled out into his bedroom again, picked up one of the hand towels to dry his hands off, and then noticed just how out of place things were.
His closet was open. Open, and largely empty. The drawers were missing from his dresser. The realization that he might have been robbed woke him up instantly. Kevin's eyes took in the whole room. His wallet was still on the dresser, as were his keys, but his phone was gone. He rushed to the closet, found his uniform belt still hanging there with all his equipment, and his gun safe was undisturbed. The dirty clothes hamper was gone, though. So were his spare bed sheets. What the fuck?
A moment later, Kevin found the note taped to his doorframe. It was a simple, folded-over piece of computer paper with his name on it, written in black pen.
"Dear Kevin: You said you needed something to get your mind off yesterday. Hope this helps. Your clothes, towels, sheets, laptop and phone are safe with us. We checked to make sure you have plenty of food. I'll play answering service for you if anything comes up and I'll be back late tomorrow evening with your stuff. Chill out, play video games and watch some porn or whatever it is guys do when they hang around the house alone and naked. Love, Molly and Onyx."
His eyes flared. He looked around his room again twice, just to make sure he was seeing what he actually saw. He looked at his bed again, which contained only pillows, a bottom sheet, and a cat who looked up at him like he might be crazy.
Kevin flew out of his bedroom and headed downstairs. Maybe they were still there. Maybe that was the prank. Screw it; if they wanted to see him naked, then here he was, naked, and if he saw a single solitary camera he'd take it and—
No. Nobody home. The place was completely quiet. The drapes were drawn shut. The lights were all off. Kevin stood naked in his silent, peaceful home. Naked and alone.
Except, that is, for the cat. Attila followed him downstairs and headbutted his ankle with a purr to remind Kevin that as long as he was up, he could always replenish the food dish.
* * *
He cooked his breakfast naked. On a normal working day he didn't have time for this, but he had about as much to do today as he had clothes to do it in. He threw together toast and scrambled eggs, and cooked up some thick bacon from Central Market, and caught more than a few tiny drops of spattering hot grease on his naked chest and stomach. It wasn't as if he had an apron. Even if he did, Kevin doubted he would go so far as to wear an apron with his naked ass hanging free in the back.
He ate it naked, too, sitting at his small dining nook table wondering what he was supposed to do with himself today. Well, he could do that with himself, of course, but what about the rest of the day? Obviously he wouldn't be hitting the gym.
Kevin tried to at least knock out some naked calisthenics. Stretches were no problem. Sit-ups were fine. Push-ups were a little weird, what with his dangling junk hitting the floor again and again, but whatever. He realized, finishing up his reps, that jumping jacks were right out.
He showered and shaved, taking his time with both, though he wondered why he bothered with the latter. It seemed like something to do. Drying off with only hand towels was a bit of a pain, but he didn't feel like dripping dry.
He straightened up the living room. Unloaded the dishwasher. Cleaned up after breakfast. Stood and stared at his home again. Naked.
"Fine," he said to no one in particular, and then to the cat who sat on the couch staring at him, "fine!" He stomped over to the couch, picked up his Playstation controller and fired up the console. "Whatever."
He remembered, then, that the console connected his television to the internet. He could get email after all, at least... but then what? Email Tyrone and ask him to bring over some clothes and have to explain this? Or one of his other friends? Shoot a line to Molly and give her even more of a laugh than she was already having?
Kevin stared at the screen, growled, and kicked the cursor over to his video game. There were aliens to kill. A world to be saved.
While naked, on the couch.
* * *
"Swear to God, I know he's cheating on me with that bitch," Victoria growled, throwing her car into park and then jerking the emergency brake like she wanted to jerk her boyfriend by the neck. "No, you know how I know?" she asked the voice on the other end of her cellphone. "Because—hold on, I'm parking," she said, and put it down long enough to check her platinum blonde hair in the mirror, grab her purse, and then step outside her car.
"Because I can see how they act together. I had to go to that stupid office party of his. You know, I thought I worked with some dodgy people being a realtor, but these 'wealth management' guys... anyway, yeah, they're all starry-eyed and touching each other constantly, and every time I see his cell phone she's the most recent call or text. What? No, I don't go snooping, but it's right out there in front of me. Plus, get this, the one time I did pick up his phone for him, just trying to be helpful, totally innocent—I didn't even suspect anything at all—it was a florist, trying to confirm his order of roses, and it damn sure wasn't for me or his mom, right?"
Victoria stopped for a moment, looking around at the block of townhomes facing the street. She couldn't remember the number off the top of her head and had to dig the note out of her pocket. "No, wait, hold on... sorry, I picked this job up kind of at random. No, the old realtor—hell, I didn't even tell you this. She got a winning Lotto ticket last night and came in and quit this morning! I know, right? Yeah! Wish I could have a lucky break now and again.
"No, that's not fair, you're right. First world problems, I know. I'm just irritated at George. Okay, I'm more than irritated, I'm fucking pissed. I didn't go to school and all this just to be somebody's trophy girlfriend. And you know what? I don't even get that. Yeah! I mean, I know I look good! I work hard to look this good! And every night, he's like, 'Aw, honey, I'm just tired,' and plops down on the sofa and turns on the television.
"I swear, I almost wish some guy really would use me as a sex object, y'know? At least if he was nice about it. Anyway, hey, I gotta go. I found my spot. Yeah, I'll call you later. Bye, Sylvia."
She strode to the door, heels clicking along the pavement, and pulled off her designer sunglasses to check her info again. These combination lock boxes could always be such a pain.
* * *
"So this guy has the highest record—the highest record, bar none—of use of force of any cop in the city of Seattle for the last two years running. Let that sink in, people: he's been a cop for all of two years, and in those two years he's racked up a higher count of injuries and deaths inflicted on our citizens than any other cop!"
Kevin wiped away the last of the spots on the stove top, glaring at the radio on his counter. "Yeah, and I go home and open a beer and celebrate it every day," he grumbled. "Naked."
"And now we've got two more dead at his hands. Two suspects out of five, right? The cops believe there are five guys in this home invasion murder-robbery ring, but now they don't have anyone to question, because Officer Murray has to go off and shoot both of them!
"He comes home from Afghanistan and Iraq all messed up and convinced he's Billy Bad Ass, goes to college on his blood money from Uncle Sam—"
"Oh, fuck you!" Kevin snorted, glaring at the radio. Attila hopped up on the counter. "No, not you, buddy."
"And then he gets hired on as another fascist tool for the mayor, and do you know what's the first thing he does on duty?"
"Watched my training officer get his car stolen by high school kids while serving a noise complaint at their party?" Kevin asked over the rhetorical answer of the other guy on the radio.
"No! No, he punches out this woman in a nightclub—one Precious Woods—"
"After she literally stabbed me with a knife!" Kevin said, throwing the sponge over his shoulder. "Jesus, I was tryin' to break up that fight without tazing anyone!"
"So, why's he still out on the streets?" asked the radio call-in host.
"Because Officer Kevin Murray, like all the other fascists, is protected by the Seattle Policeman's Guild, and those tools—!" Kevin reached over Attila to turn the radio off, interrupting the man's statement. His now-clean kitchen was filled with blissful silence.
"That was a mistake," he said to his cat. Attila let out a meow that may have been an agreement, or perhaps instead just a reminder that there were salmon treats in the cabinet above him.
Kevin sighed, picked up his sponge and put it in the sink. He took a moment to wash the chemicals off of his hands. Normally he wouldn't have even thought of it. His state of undress made him unusually conscious of the way his skin felt.
His mood remained dimmed by the radio show. Public radio usually had better call screening than that. He was surprised the host didn't jump in after the blood money crack. Ultimately, what he really wished for was a chance to defend himself in public, but he already knew from experience that it wouldn't likely happen.
Frustration threatened to sink in, but the sound of a key pushing into the lock on his front door sent his train of thought flying off the track to crash into a hillside. What the hell? Kevin thought. Some neighbor got the wrong—oh shit, the realtor!
The door cracked open. It paused only briefly, just long enough for the woman's hand to pull the key out again. Kevin's mind froze for that critical second, and then leapt at the first solution to present itself. He jumped over to the other side of the refrigerator and threw the door open so he could hide behind it.
Two seconds later, realized he could've just jumped forward and slammed the door shut and then explained himself while his unexpected guest stood safely on the other side, but by then it was too late. She was inside as Kevin said, "Hey, wait, uh, hold on a second!"
"OhmyGod, you scared me!" the woman exclaimed. She was roughly Kevin's age, very pretty and sharply dressed in a white-and-blue skirt suit.
"Jesus. I'm sorry. Uh. Listen," he continued, looking over the refrigerator door, "I wanna make it real clear that you're over there in an open doorway where you can run and I'm over here behind the 'fridge and I'm just as surprised as you are before I scare you worse, okay?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Uh. Listen. Um. This is really awkward. I'm naked."
Her eyes widened. It was only now, he realized, that she was actually taking in his appearance and stance and not just running on sudden fright. "You are? Why?"
Kevin's mind groped for a reasonable explanation. He didn't have one, so he went with the truth. "My niece is playing a prank on me. She and her girlfriend stole all of my clothes. So it's not like I can ask you to just step outside while I get dressed."
The woman's head tilted curiously. "Wait, so you're completely naked back there?"
"I swear I wouldn't make that up. I am so sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I really didn't know."
Her head tilted the other way. She wasn't entirely looking at him. "No, I'm sorry you didn't know I was coming over. I'm Victoria Blaine and I'm taking over for the previous realtor. Are you, uh..." she checked her note again, "Kevin Murray?"
Dammit. "Yes?" he asked with a worried expression.
"Um. I could come back at another... uh..." her offer faltered. She let out a bit of a laugh. "This is so silly, I mean you don't have to freak out. You have a right to be naked in your own home."
"Okay, I know that, but even so, this is so awkward and I am so sorry!"
"No, no, don't even worry about it," she said, waving off his concern. "Seriously, I'm the one who should apologize for invading your privates. Privacy. Privacy, sorry."
He noticed, again, how her eyes drifted to her left. He initially thought she'd been looking at Attila, who had been on the countertop, but he had since left. A quick glance to Kevin's side, tracking her line of sight, brought his eyes to the clear, reflective face of his oven, and its perfect angle to show Victoria what stood behind the refrigerator.
His eyes widened accusingly as he pulled the refrigerator door open further, stepping behind it so as to pin himself between it and the kitchen cabinets yet better protect his modesty. Victoria's eyes also widened as well when she realized she'd been caught. She brought her hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
"So...um, should we maybe just exchange phone numbers?" Kevin asked. "I mean I don't have my phone right now, either, but in a couple days it'll be fine."
"Is it disconnected or something?"
"No. Stolen. With the rest of my clothes."
Victoria blinked away more of her flustered nerves. "I'm not sure waiting for that would be helpful."
"Can I do anything else for you, then?"
"I don't know, are you offering me a drink? You've got quite a selection there," she observed, gesturing to the open refrigerator door and the upright bottles on its shelf. Kevin couldn't help but notice that her gesture pointed somewhere just south of waist level.
His jaw threatened to drop right off his head. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around how you're not calling the cops on me. Or threatening me with some sort of formal complaint."
She shrugged a bit. "You could do the same. Are you going to?"
"No."
"No, because that would be petty and this was clearly just an accident. And you did already just ask for my number."
"Yeah, but I meant—"
"Mr. Murray, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing at all. And I'm not going to go screaming back to my office in a tizzy when I've got no way to prove this happened, anyway."
"You're very calm about this."
She gave him a bit of a grin. "You're not the first naked man I've ever seen. Also," she added thoughtfully, "Ann, the previous realtor, says you're a very nice guy and—"
"The cat!" he interrupted, pointing urgently. Victoria looked down, saw Attila creeping toward the wide-open front door, and promptly closed it. "Wow. I'm sorry. Thank you. I mean, uh... wow."
"—and now I've just shut myself in here with you and you still haven't done a single creepy thing besides, again, being naked in your own home. Nothing about you says 'sexual harassment' or 'assault.'"
"This is completely unbelievable," Kevin deadpanned.
"Yeah? I've been having that sort of week."
"You, too, huh?" He looked down at his refrigerator door. "Uh. Offer you anything?"
"Cheeky," she noted with an approving glint in her broadening smile. "Club soda?"
He looked down again. He had only a two-liter bottle. "I'm gonna have to pour that into a glass."
"I'd prefer it that way, yes." She waited to see if he'd just go for it, then let out an unconvincing sigh. "Should I step away?"
"You could have a seat on the couch," he suggested.
"I could do that," she said, and walked into his living room. "Mind if I take off my jacket? I'm a little warm in here."
He swallowed hard. "Yeah, sure, go ahead," he said, reaching for the cabinet full of tumblers while her back was turned. He crouched down further below the countertops, watching her carefully as he grabbed the club soda and poured her glass.
"This is a nice place," she observed, deliberately looking around in every direction but his. "You've really cleaned up. I was mostly coming over to make sure the place was ready to be shown."
"Yeah, well, I try to be cooperative, you know? Inoffensive. Friendly. Uh. Harmless and safe? Wouldn't hurt a fly?"
"Flies have it coming," Victoria shrugged. She dared a look his way and saw him still hiding behind the counter. "So how are we going to do this, Mr. Murray?"
"Uh. Call me Kevin. And, um, I guess..." He looked around for an option. "Alright, you said I'm not your first naked guy, so screw it, I guess."
"Planning on it," she muttered under her breath too low for him to hear, then snickered as he walked out holding her drink in one hand and a kitchen hand towel over his groin with the other. Kevin walked over, handed her the glass, and then sat down on the far end of the couch after he pulled up a pillow and sat it down in his lap. He'd have had to be blind and dead not to catch the way she eyed him up and down as he moved. "Very clever," she said, "and hospitable. Thank you."
"I try. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Miss...?"
She took a sip of her drink and shook her head. "Oh, I'll go to great lengths for a client. And it's Victoria. Not Vickie or Tori or anything like that, please. Just Victoria."
"It's nicer that way," he nodded. "Classy."
"Mileage varies greatly there. So. We should talk."
"Okay."
"About whatever's on your mind," she said. He blinked. She grinned. "Like that."
"Like what?"
"Whatever you were just thinking, just now."
"I was... um... just thinking that blouse matches your eyes really well, and that there was no way I could say that out loud right now without it sounding like a bad line from some cheap romantic comedy."
Victoria gave that thoughtful little head-tilt that exposed more of her lovely neck again as she mused, "I thought this was a lot more like a set-up for a porno."
His mind ground to a halt. "That was the other thing I wasn't going to say out loud."
"Call a spade a spade," she shrugged.
"You're too witty for this to be a porno," he said. "And you have amazing composure. I mean, you're just... most people would be long gone and screaming, but here you are sipping a drink and making with the pleasant conversation."
She smiled a bit, making no effort to conceal the sweep of her gaze as she looked him up and down once more. "That's three compliments in less than a minute, Kevin," she observed. "And only one of them was about my appearance, which is usually all I hear from guys. Are you flirting with me?"
"Do unto others," he replied. "Well. You know. When it won't get you arrested or sued." His tone indicated much more confidence than trepidation. It was a joke, not a probe.
"Oh, I think we've established a certain amount of consent at this point."
"You say that, but no always means no," Kevin countered. "I've had to explain that one entirely too many times."
"That's right, I was told you're a cop," Victoria said. "And a veteran," she observed, gesturing at the tattoo just behind his shoulder. She glanced around the room again, finding his diploma on the wall. "College grad. Very respectable. Handsome. Fit. Charming. But not much of a woman's touch here, and no ring on your finger. I take it there's no Mrs.-Murray-to-be?"
Kevin shook his head. "Just me and the cat." He paused. "No Victor out there, either?"
"The last contenders both turned out to be losers in overtime."
"That's a good line. You use that line a lot?" he grinned.
"When it'll get a smile." Silence fell. They looked at one another quietly, both with growing confidence and interest. "So? What do we do now?"
"I'd offer to show you around the house," Kevin said, "but that might feel a touch awkward for you."
"Watching you walk around holding a pillow over your groin would be awkward, yes."
He gave it only a moment's further thought. Attila walked by, heading for his pillow in front of the fireplace, and gave Kevin a look. Whether the cat was thinking "go for it" or "what the fuck are you thinking, you goon?" was debatable, but Kevin had already made his decision: Fuck It. He stood, leaving the pillow aside.
"So this is the living room, obviously," Kevin told her, holding his arms wide to gesture to their surroundings. He was gracious enough not to look right at her as he stood. She took the moment to ogle his not-remotely-flaccid flesh, and then his ass as he turned. Kevin didn't look back to see if she liked what she saw. Either she would or she wouldn't. He was all in now. "Where one, y'know, lives. Cable outlet's over on that wall, so I had to run a little extra line. The fireplace has a blower and if you get it going well it'll heat the whole place."
"Feels plenty warm in here now," commented Victoria.
"Yeah, but it's summer now. It can get a little stuffy here in the summer if you don't open up the windows. No AC here, but then, it's Seattle, right? Houses hardly ever have that." Kevin resolved not to flex or pose as he walked over to the dining nook. Best to play this straight rather than acting like even more of a clown. "This spot here's a little small, but then I did get goofy with where I put the couch and such to divide up the space. You could probably maximize it better with a little thought. I almost never have more than one guest at a time."
Victoria took one last sip of her drink before she stood. Her eyes settled on his backside as she followed him, though they lifted to his face whenever he turned—eventually. "Does everything in the kitchen work?" she asked.
"Yup. Disposal, washer, everything's fine. Half-bath is right over there, all in working order, too." He made sure they had eye contact before he said, "Upstairs is the study and the bedroom."
"Lead the way," she gestured.
Her naked tour guide continued on, walking up the stairs and doing his best not to just laugh out loud at his own absurdity. Victoria seemed to be enjoying the show, at least. That was a good sign. "That's the study over there. The heating vent isn't really in the most convenient place, but I guess that's a matter of opinion. Makes a decent second bedroom, anyway."
"Do you do a lot of studying, Kevin?" Victoria asked as she poked her head inside. "Plenty of books, anyway. And no computer?"
"It went with my clothes, wherever they are," Kevin told her. "So over in here is the master bedroom." He turned and walked into the room. She followed closely. Very closely.
"They really cleaned you out, didn't they?" Victoria asked, her voice dropping at this minimal distance. He could feel her breath on his shoulder. "Sheets and everything."
"Yep."
"The bed looks comfortable enough, though."
His head slowly turned to her with one eyebrow raised. "The bed's coming with me, wherever I move." He completed his turn. One hand came to her hip. They could have been dancing. "It's a good bed, though."
"I'm, um. Hm." Victoria's eyes seemed to shine brighter in this room. "I'm finally having trouble coming up with witty rejoinders."
"Me, too. We should stop." He leaned in softly, mindfully still giving her time and room to step back as he kissed her. She held her ground, tilting her face up to receive and return. They found one another reluctant to part lips, and soon Kevin's other hand came up onto Victoria's neck, caressing it softly. She let out a little moan of approval, stepping in further, happy to have him up against her.
She smelled great. Felt soft. Knew how to kiss, and wasn't shy with her touch. With less and less of his blood reaching his brain, Kevin was glad she was ready to put aside the repartee. He took in the whole sensory experience of her, touch and smell and taste, finding it all every bit as enjoyable as the conversation.
Victoria felt much the same way, but she'd already gotten more of him than he had of her. Knowing she wanted to go through with this now, and with excitement rising with her final decision, she had one last matter to clear up. "So did they clean you out of all your safety equipment, too?"
He let out a bit of a sigh. "Yeah. Trojans were in a dresser drawer and I'm not, uh, cocky enough to keep one in my wallet. I got a little note from Planned Parenthood just three days ago that says I'm clean, but—what?"
She looked up at him with a broad grin, unable to hold back the laugh. "I've got one of those in my purse just now. Best time on the calendar, too."
He kissed her again. "Not a worry anyway. Vasectomy."
"Mmmm," Victoria cooed as his lips enveloped her earlobe. "My kinda guy." His touch confirmed her evaluation as he grew bolder and lustier, exploring her figure while gently drawing her back to the bed. Their kiss broke only long enough to climb onto the mattress, where they lay side by side to continue their bout of foreplay.
She smiled approvingly into his mouth as she felt him pull the zipper on the back of her skirt. "Just what I was thinking," she said.
"I wouldn't want to mess up your clothes," Kevin told her. "Bad enough I've got nothing to wear. Wouldn't want to stick you with the same problem."
"No," she said, breathing heavily as he slipped her blouse up and over her head, revealing a lacy blue bra that matched her panties. "But as long as I'm here, fair's fair." She reached for the straps of her bra.
He gave a little headshake and gently drew her wrists up over her head. "You went to the trouble of wearing something nice," he told her. "Shame if it didn't have a few moments to be enjoyed. Unless it's uncomfortable?"
"No," she said between his kisses. She kept her arms up past her head when he released them, then shuddered as his hands slid down them to her chest. His hands cupped and caressed her breasts through her bra. Victoria felt her nipples tingle with pleasure, wanting more but hoping the tease would go on a bit longer. Her hopes were answered. Kevin's lips came back to hers, and his hands continued to roam across her body, but several times they came back to her breasts to taunt her and draw out approving noises from her throat.
His hard cock teased her, too, pressed against her legs and occasionally between them as they played on the bed. She was well past hot and bothered by the time he slipped one hand down beyond the sensitive space between her navel and the top of her panties. His palm cupped her sex, emphasizing for her just how wet she was. The loud moan of pleasure she let out told him all he needed to know, too.
Kevin released her lips, kissing all the way down her neck, across her chest, and further down while his hand remained in place between her legs to passively stoke the heat he found there. Only when his mouth came to her groin did his hand leave her, and that was just so he could hook his fingers under the hips of her panties and slide them away.
Victoria watched him with anticipation. She enjoyed the kisses that trailed down her thighs in the wake of her panties, and then back up again, but she figured Kevin would get right to business. She didn't expect him to linger there long, and let out yet another moan of approval when his tongue slid downward across her wet labia.
Her eyes closed tightly and her back arched as pleasure swept through her. This guy understood how to take his time, but he also knew how to escalate. Victoria's breath deepened as he licked and kissed her pussy. Before long, she felt like she could come at any second. She wanted the release. She wanted it to wait. She wanted everything all at once and couldn't think of a damn reason to complain about anything she got, because wow was it good.
Kevin slid into a more comfortable position between her thighs as her legs parted in a silent plea for more. He kept at her with just his mouth for a while, still caressing the length of her body with hands that moved from her hips to her belly and her breasts and then back down again over and over. Once he started in on her clit, gently probing and licking with soft affection, Victoria stopped holding back on her vocal approval.
She couldn't really hold back anything anymore. Victoria's body tightened, trembled, and then finally began to spasm in orgasm. She took hold of Kevin's head with her hands and squeezed his shoulders with her thighs, riding out her climax and her partner together.
"Wow," she whimpered, no longer so composed. "Oh God, that was... wow." It was a full minute before she could say anything more, overwhelmed by her body's reaction to this man and his touch. Just to add to her thrills, she got to enjoy his lingering touch and kisses between her legs as she settled back down from her climax. It helped her maintain her overall arousal while still allowing her a wonderful afterglow. "You're really good at this."
"I try," Kevin grinned at her. He came up to his hands and knees finally, looking down at her as she sat up just far enough to unclasp and discard her bra. He wasn't the least bit disappointed in what it revealed. "So," he began, "I could either keep at this or I could go brush my teeth and—"
"Hell no," Victoria replied, hooking both hands around his neck and drawing him closer. She kissed him without heed to the taste of herself on his lips, wanting to feel him on top of her again and to show her appreciation for his performance. It wasn't long before she wanted the rest of him. Kevin followed her lead, bringing himself into position between her legs.
The head of his cock teased her a little, sliding across her wet lips in a probing caress and finding them ready for more. He pushed in slowly to savor the moment of penetration. Victoria's kiss faltered. She allowed herself a moment of sensual, wonderful helplessness as he entered her.
"Wow," she breathed, looking in his eyes again. "More." She kissed him, whimpered, and tugged on his ass. "God, more!"
Victoria loved every second of it. She loved the possessive feel of his arms holding hers over her head again. The taste of herself on his lips. The roll of his hips against hers, and the constant, mind-numbing rush of his every thrust. He seemed to gyrate just right, in and up, stimulating all the right points and giving her no choice but to enjoy it.
He'd taken his time with her. Given her every chance to back out or bail. Seemed as turned on by talking to her as he was by looking at her, and took her teasing in stride. Then came this, an afternoon of being pinned to Kevin's bed in an awesome blend of comfort, vulnerability, arousal and satisfaction.
Orgasm crept up on her. She didn't even feel it build, stuck as she was on a plateau of intense pleasure, but then it surged past the breaking point. Kevin did exactly what she hoped he would: he kept on fucking her, slowly and fiercely, as if these intermittent climaxes were to be expected.
It happened again before he finally got off, too. Victoria was weak and out of breath, unable to do anything more than just lie there, but Kevin obviously enjoyed that, too. She adored his grunts of satisfaction, the feeling of being taken, and the soft kisses he pressed against her cheek and lips as he settled back down.
"Stay inside me," she whispered, holding him close. "Just a while longer."
"I can do that," he murmured. They ground together, just enjoying the sensations, and slowly kissed once more.
"Any chance of a repeat performance later?" she smiled.
He slowly thrust into her again. "Definitely," Kevin smiled back. "Might actually be ready for an encore now, to be honest."
Victoria's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Benefits of going bare," he shrugged a little. "No moment-spoiling mess to clean up. Anyway, it's been a little while for me and you're fantastic. I might be kind of excited. Although you might want to be gentle with me."
His partner grinned and slipped her legs around his hips. "I'll try."
* * *
It was a long, luxurious afternoon, and an even better night. The frenzy of their first coupling didn't repeat itself, but the pair took their time recuperating, enjoying one another's company. Their evening together was less animalistic but no less satisfying.
Victoria finally rolled off of Kevin and stretched, giving him yet another eyeful of her appealing body. "I did that," he smiled.
"You did," she conceded. "Wow, you did. Huh. What time is it?"
He glanced around for his clock. It had fallen off the nightstand on his side of the bed. "Not quite ten?" he asked.
"Oh, good," Victoria said. She reached over to her side, where she had dropped off her purse between bouts of sex. She pulled out her phone and keyed it on.
"Oh. Right. The rest of the world," Kevin mused. He rolled over onto his side to look at her, though he couldn't see what exactly she was doing. It wasn't really his business, anyway. "Gotta check in for messages and stuff, right?"
"Yeah. More or less. Mostly I just wanted to Tweet this, though."
Yet again, his mind ground to a halt. "Tweet it?"
"Yeah, you know, Twitter?" Victoria grinned. "Been around a couple years, don't you know? Anyway, I haven't done anything this crazy since college. My friends are gonna eat their hearts out."
He blinked. "Wait, seriously?"
She rolled over to face him, except her phone was in between their faces. "Smile!"
"What?" he asked. He heard the artificial sound effect of her camera going off.
Attila leapt up onto the nightstand on Victoria's side of the bed. He looked over her shoulder at his human housemate.
"You think I should send this to my boyfriend, too?" Victoria asked.
"Boyfriend!?"
"Oh, he's been cheating on me for weeks anyway, so he's totally got this coming. I've just been undecided on how to dump him."
Kevin's gaze met his cat's. Attila stared at him with a wide-eyed look just short of telepathy. Sometimes Kevin could swear he wasn't imagining things at all: it was like his cat really knew how to communicate. This look, for instance, said very clearly, Why do you keep fucking crazy women? What is wrong with you?
Victoria caught on to Kevin's distraction. She looked over her shoulder, let out a "Hm," and then looked back to him. "So how attached are you to that thing?"
* * *
"He killed Al and Don, man," growled Dick, leaning in with his fists on the table. "Fucking shot both of them in the face. In the face, man."
John looked back at Dick with a scowl. It was hard to eat his McNuggets and his fries with someone in his face like this. "I know, Dick," he said. "Everybody knows, alright? Whole world knows. All over the news. What the hell do you want to do about it?"
"Let's fuckin' smoke him, man!" Dick banged his fist on the small motel table, rising up to pace around the room. He ran his hands over his balding head. Like the others, Dick was a big man, with tattoos decorating any of his skin not already covered by his jeans and Harley t-shirt. "I mean this is bullshit! Someone murders two of our brothers and what do we do? Scurry out of town and hide out in this cheap dive like a bunch'a pussies?"
"We are not killin' a cop, Dick," John replied firmly. He was thinner than Dick, and younger, too, with piercings and tattoos to spare. "We've got enough heat on us as it is, or Al and Don wouldn't be dead in the first place. We go smoke a cop and they're never gonna let up on us across the whole fuckin' state. We wouldn't even be safe in fucking Portland or Vancouver, either. Have to clear out of this whole fuckin' part of the country!"
"We were planning on doing that anyway," said Carl, who sat on the bed with his laptop. "That was the deal, right? Handful of jobs, then we sell off all the junk, buy some new bikes and head off to SoCal? I remember that being the plan."
John let out a long sigh. "Well then why aren't we sticking to that?"
"Because Al and Don had most of the cash from the last job, remember? That's why they were downtown in the first fuckin' place. And so now we've gotta do more jobs just to come out to where we were before, and we weren't even quite done yet."
"Man, all those goals we had were set between us," countered John. "We made all that shit up. It's up to us to change it."
"Why would we change it when we know we'll need that money? Anyway, we know we'll have to do more jobs. Only this time we'll be doing it with people knowin' we're down two of our guys. We run the risk of people trying to stand up to us. Play hero. Fuck everything up and make an even bigger mess."
Carl turned his full attention on John. "I'm not letting two of our brothers die without any kind of payback. Are you saying we should? What if it was me or Dick got killed? Would you leave that alone, too?"
John chewed on it for a long moment. In truth, he would, but he couldn't afford to actually tell them that. "No," he lied. "It's not that, it's just—don't we run an even bigger risk of getting caught?"
"Not if we change up our M.O.," Carl said. "We change up our way of doing things. We use a different vehicle. Operate in different hours. Make sure the clues point in confusing directions. They'll know it was us, but they won't be able to prove it."
"Fine," John sighed again. "But how do we even find him? I mean all we know is his name after all the news stories, but that don't help a whole lot. Ain't like a cop's gonna be stupid enough to have his name in a public directory."
"A cop wouldn't," Carl agreed, "but someone who isn't a cop yet might. The internet's an archive, my friend," he smiled. "And they teach you all kinds of good job skills in prison these days."
* * *
Friday morning was much the same as Thursday. Kevin cooked breakfast. Ate. Exercised as best he could given his circumstances. Showered, shaved, cleaned up the kitchen and plopped down on the couch for some quality time with his Playstation and his cat.
Attila sat beside him, cleaning his fur and occasionally looking up at Kevin as if waiting for something Kevin was supposed to say.
"Never even considered it, buddy," Kevin told him, weaving his car through this obstacle and that on the big screen. "Not even for a second. I just wanted to get her out with no hard feelings, okay?"
Attila went back to his work.
"Still. Hot, though. I mean holy shit she was hot. Crazy, I know, and I don't see how that could work out. I'm not gonna hold my breath, but still. Wow."
He played through another couple of levels, marginally entertained but mostly bored. A day and a half at home had done him a world of good—or maybe it was just the distraction of Molly's prank followed by a few hours of great sex. None of it really did anything about any of his problems, but it put the worst of them further off. Time helped put things into perspective.
What he really wanted now was a chance to go out and do something about the rest of his troubles. There was bound to be some manner of further fallout for the shooting, regardless of how justified it might be. Too many people looked only at numbers and not context, at least when it suited their agenda.
Kevin completed another level. The screen went dark as the Playstation reloaded new data for the next one. Seconds passed with no change. Kevin wondered if the system had frozen.
He heard the metallic flump and clank of his mailbox outside through his open front window. He'd have probably heard Victoria coming to his door had the window been open yesterday, or she'd have heard him, and would probably never have come through the door. Lucky break, that one, he conceded. Probably not much of a future there at all, but it had been a great experience.
It reminded him of his boredom. He hadn't even checked the mail yesterday. Amazon owed him packages. There might be a magazine or two out there. Bills, too, probably, and junk mail, but it was contact with the outside world. He looked at the clock. Today was supposed to be the last day of school, but it was still in session at this hour and most people would still be at work... he wondered how risky it might be?
At the very least, he'd be able to tell Molly truthfully that her prison hadn't really held him for the full two days.
Kevin hustled up to the study upstairs and looked out its window. Cars rolled up and down Aurora as they normally did, but nothing moved on his side street. No pedestrians. No bicyclists. Nothing except the postal van, already crawling up and away from his place. It was too sunny and warm to be kept pent up inside.
He came back down the stairs without wasting his chance. The mailbox was right there on the sidewalk facing the street. Parked cars all along the street offered plenty of cover even if someone did drive by—and what were the odds that it'd be anyone who knew him and would call in a complaint? He peered through the small window of his door again. Fuck it.
He unlocked the door, opened it, and slipped outside. Someone small and furry slipped out, too, right between his ankles. "Attila, no!" Kevin called, but it was too late; his grey and white housemate was out and gone, already trotting down the steps and out to the sidewalk as if he was as entitled to an early afternoon stroll as anyone else. He looked back to Kevin and meowed once as if to ask what the big deal was about walking around naked, and then turned and walked off to his right.
"Shit." He threw the deadbolt on his open door to make sure there'd be no chance of it accidentally locking on him and then darted out after his cat. Attila simply wasn't an outdoor cat. Kevin didn't trust the neighborhood enough for it. Now he was out, blithely strolling up the sidewalk, with Kevin ducking down behind one car after another in pursuit.
"Buddy, c'mere! Attila! Dammit, cat!" he hissed. He went for a grab. Missed. Went for another, and missed, and this time Attila darted under a car outside of Kevin's reach. "Attila, don't do this to me," he said.
Attila meowed. A pickup truck rolled by, moving toward Aurora. Kevin stayed low.
It stopped right in front of his house. Kevin glanced over his shoulder at the jacked-up blue vehicle, thinking little of it until a man in a denim jacket, jeans and a ski mask stood up from the back with an AK-47. The driver leaned out of his window with a pistol, too, and even the passenger side door opened with a third masked man who leveled an AK at Kevin's townhouse.
The roar of gunfire that followed drowned out every other sound. All three men emptied their weapons toward Kevin's home in a matter of seconds. Glass shattered and wood splintered all over the building's façade, and more than a few rounds struck the homes on either side of his. Kevin didn't believe his neighbors were home, but couldn't be sure. His heart went into overdrive.
A moment later, the guy in the passenger's side slipped back into the truck. The shooter in the cargo bed crouched back down again. Kevin made his decision before the pick-up got rolling again. Like Molly said, he hadn't signed up on the force to just let bad guys go.
He ran forward, having somewhat more of a plan than he had clothing, but that didn't mean much. He hoped dearly that Attila would have the sense to find his way home again. Molly would take good care of him if Kevin didn't make it out of this alive, which seemed entirely likely.
The shooters never saw him coming. The potholes in the road prevented the driver from really tearing out onto the road, and thus Kevin managed to catch hold of the tailgate with his left hand and put his right foot up onto the bumper before the pick-up got to the edge of Aurora.
The shooter in the cargo bed spotted him immediately. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he leveled his AK at Kevin and pulled the trigger, but he'd already spent all his ammunition shooting up the townhouse. The gun denied his wishes with a loud "click."
Kevin nearly slipped off the bumper. His left foot dragged just a little on the pavement, but it was enough to cut into his skin and leave him bleeding. Kevin threw his hurt foot over the tailgate and then launched himself the rest of the way in, coming down on the shooter with a roar of pain and a resounding right cross to the face. The man fell back against the passenger window.
Suddenly panicked at things not going according to plan, the driver slammed down on the accelerator and turned out onto Aurora Avenue.
Satisfied that the unreasonably loud noises had passed, Attila emerged from his hiding spot and took a look around. The street was clearly not a good place to be today. He padded back up to the townhouse, finding the door wide open and debris everywhere. He trotted inside, sniffed around, and moved off to the kitchen, picking his way through fallen wood and glass.
On the floor of the kitchen, amid shattered bowls and plates, was the bag of salmon treats that Kevin normally kept in an overhead cabinet out of the cat's reach. Attila recognized the scent immediately and tore into the bag.
Later, Attila found the drapes blocking the sliding glass door to the back porch had fallen after the curtain rod had been struck by a bullet. With the glass no longer obstructed, Attila found a nice, warm patch of sunlight on the living room carpet he could lounge in. He padded around, sniffing the air again. The open front door and all the shattered windows made for a pleasant cross-breeze. Attila curled up for a nap.
All in all, Attila had a pretty nice afternoon.
* * *
"This whole street used to be hookers and dealers all up one side and down the other," Sergeant Claudia Esposito explained to the rookie beside her. "All the way from Shoreline down to the north side of the bridge into Queen Anne. I mean the whole Woodland Park zone gave you a break from it, but as soon as you were out of that area, bam. More mess, more skeezy people. This area has come a long way."
Officer Angela Weir gave a nod, listening to her attentively. She was a little intimidated by the sergeant; Claudia was confident, tough and businesslike. The two had met before, with Claudia serving as one of Angela's unarmed combat instructors at the academy. The sergeant was also pretty, with the sort of smooth golden skin that women would kill for, and her boyish haircut didn't make her look masculine.
Angela had some doubts as to whether she could balance out her work with her desire to maintain her femininity. She'd encountered a few woman cops who reinforced the concern. Meeting Claudia, though, had erased all of those doubts. Working with her made Angela feel like it had been silly to have them to begin with.
"Yeah, I remember from when I was in college," Angela said. "Growing up in Kent, I didn't come out here a lot, but the couple times I did and wound up on this road, I thought it looked pretty sketchy."
"It's a good word for it. Still not the greatest in the city, but—" Claudia suddenly held up her hand and slowed the car. The sustained roll of popping noises came straight through the patrol car's open windows. Then it stopped.
"Think that was just off to the right up here," suggested Angela, gesturing out her window.
Claudia frowned. "We better go check that out," she said, pulling off to the far right lane and making ready to turn. "This close to the Fourth, we get a lot of kids playing with all the stuff they buy off the reservations, but—woah!"
The blue pick-up truck swerved out into traffic right in front of them. They saw two people in the cargo bed, one in denim and the other shirtless, flail and grab hold for dear life. Claudia hit the accelerator and went into pursuit. "You know how to call it in?" she asked urgently.
"Yeah," Angela nodded, reaching for the radio. "Yeah, I can. I just—!"
Words failed her. She looked on as the two men in the pick-up both rose to their feet, readying punches for one another. The guy in the denim jacket and ski mask threw a right hook, only to have it blocked and countered by the... naked guy?
Naked. Stark, raving naked, turned out to give both women a prime frontal view as he fended off his opponent. He was fit, trim, focused on his fight and utterly nude.
"Okay," Angela faltered, "maybe I don't know how to call that in."
"Holy shit," burst Claudia, "is that motherfucker Murray!?"
* * *
Block. Backfist. Jab. Balance balance wwwwooooah!
Preferring not to fall out of the truck, Kevin flopped onto his back in the cargo bed. His opponent did likewise, slumping once more into the corner closest to the passenger cab. The guy reached into his jacket for something. Kevin didn't want him to have it, whatever it was, so he launched out his foot in a horizontal stomp that plunged into the guy's belly.
Kevin heaved himself at his opponent, throwing his elbow at the guy's head. He caught nothing but metal for it and winced at the pain. They rolled around together, wrestling for a dominant position.
"You're under arrest!" Kevin yelled.
"Get offa me you naked fuck!" the other retorted.
The shooter had a greater advantage in weight and size, but he wasn't as fast nor as quick to adapt to the shifting environment. Kevin slipped out of his grasp, wound up crouching over him and threw another punch into the guy's face.
They heard sirens. Kevin glanced back to see the cop car following them. On the one hand, it was a relief, and on the other he doubted it would do much of anything for him. The guy in the cargo bed was still trying to kill him.
So were his buddies. Kevin heard the passenger cab's back window slide open, and looked just in time to see the passenger pointing a gun out at him. He slapped it away, heard it go off, and then grabbed for the hand holding it and yanked it out. Kevin twisted the gun down hard, having control now, breaking the passenger's finger when it didn't come out of the trigger guard fast enough.
"Carl," yelled the driver, "kill that fuck!"
"I can't!" shouted the passenger in obvious pain, "he grabbed my fucking—oww!"
Kevin wrenched the gun free from Carl's hand. He tried to turn it around in his own grasp, burned his hand on the hot barrel and heard Carl shout, "John, take him out!"
He almost had the gun at the ready, but the two seconds he needed to accomplish it were two seconds too many. John all but tackled him against the passenger cab and punched hard down on Kevin's face. Again, they wound up struggling for a better position.
The pick-up kept swerving. More sirens came on. None of it helped Kevin at all.
Then the driver momentarily hit the brakes to avoid trouble. Kevin and John were both pressed up against the passenger cab by their momentum. The fallen pistol flew up beside them as well, clattering around on the cargo bed right by Kevin. John reached for it, leaving himself open.
Kevin drove his bruised elbow up into John's throat, holding onto the passenger cab with his other hand. He pulled back and did it again as John tried to recover, shoved him back, then finally had room to throw an uppercut right into the bigger man's jaw. John lurched back. Kevin kicked hard.
The pick-up sped on while John tumbled over its right side and out onto the street with the gun. The police cruiser closest behind swerved around John and maintained pursuit. The one behind it stopped for the fallen man.
"Dick," shrieked the passenger, "shoot him!"
"I can't!" Dick yelled back. "I'm driving! Shoot him yourself!"
Kevin held onto the passenger cab for dear life as the driver swerved ever harder in a vain attempt to shake him. "Pull the fuck over!" he bellowed into the cab in the most intimidating voice he could muster.
"Fuck you, freak!" shouted the driver.
The passenger said nothing. He had his AK loaded up again and, though he had to manage it left handed, tilted it up over his left shoulder and tried to shoot it out the back window. Kevin flattened himself against the floor of the cargo bed with a completely undignified yelp as the gun went off.
Before it was out of bullets, Kevin realized there were smarter ways to handle this. He reached up, grabbed the wooden handgrip just behind the barrel and yanked hard. It flew free from its owner's hand. Carl gave another yelp and promptly slammed the rear window shut again.
Kevin got his hand into the trigger, angled the barrel upward at the rear window and fired, smashing out much of the glass. Though only a few bullets remained, they did most of the necessary work. They also scared the hell out of the truck's occupants. Kevin reversed his hold on the weapon and shoved it into the cab with all the force he could muster.
Carl's head bounced from the butt of the AK into the dashboard and then back up again. Kevin didn't wait to assess; he slammed Carl in the head a second time. Carl swooned and doubled over in his seat.
Down to one opponent now, Kevin decided to try again. "Seattle Police!" he shouted.
"Where's your badge!?" Dick countered.
"Stop the fucking truck now!"
"What're you gonna do? Shoot me?"
Kevin held on through further violent swerves, fuming with rage as he tried to think of something to do. He looked over his shoulder at the pursuing patrol car and recognized Claudia and the new gal, Angela, through the windshield. A motorcycle cop was up near them, too. Further in the distance was a state patrol unit. They were on into the green area of Aurora, headed south between the zoo and Woodland Park. Traffic was much lighter here. There weren't even any oncoming cars; the guys working the speed trap must've blocked off Aurora northbound at the bridge already. That was pretty quick.
He looked into the passenger cab again. Shooting the guy didn't seem to be much of an option, but he had one other idea. He smashed out the remaining bits of framing in the center of the rear window with the rifle and brushed away the last of the glass. It was an incomplete job, but two seconds was about all he could spare on it.
Kevin threw himself arms-first into the passenger cab, sucking up the cutting and scraping of the remaining shards of the cab's rear window and the slamming elbow of the driver as he reached for the parking brake on the floor.
The resultant squeal and lurch nearly forced a wreck. Mostly out of panicked reflex, Dick slammed on the brakes. Kevin fell further in, smashing his head into the truck's stereo and floundering face-down in the cab. The pick-up swerved and turned, coming to a halt at an angle that straddled two lanes.
Bailing out of the truck, Dick pulled out the pistol tucked his belt. He backed away, leveling his gun at the naked freak who'd just fucked up everything.
Kevin turned and saw the weapon. He had just enough time to wish he'd come up with a better plan before he heard the gunfire.
The hail of bullets fired from two pistols back behind the pick-up truck tore through Dick. Round after round tore holes in his flesh after another until he was a bloody mess on the pavement.
Sergeant Esposito and Officer Weir approached with their pistols still drawn and still smoking. Claudia had her weapon pointed at the truck. Weir kept hers trained on the fallen man beside it. They found Kevin hanging upside down in the passenger cab, his feet still dangling out the back window. An unconscious man in a ski-mask sat slumped forward in the passenger seat.
"Murray, you alright?" Esposito demanded.
"Owwww," Kevin moaned. His body was covered in grime and blood from a hundred small scrapes and a few not-at-all-minor cuts. His hands covered his groin. "God, I totally hurt my nuts."
* * *
Two full days of complete nudity was, Molly decided, one of her best ideas ever. She couldn't remember ever having so much sex with Onyx, apart from their first few days of serious romance... and the first couple weeks of living together... and, well, assorted pagan holidays. Still, the constant undercurrent of intimacy and availability couldn't be beat.
Onyx had challenged Molly—practically demanded even—to take what she'd dished out to her uncle. That Molly would doubtlessly have a better time of it, what with a live-in lover and all, wasn't the point, Onyx claimed. She had to make up for this. Perform penance. Balance the scales. Whatever.
Ultimately, the two were reminded of just how crazy they were for one another. Molly couldn't let Onyx's pouty ass or her sweet, taunting breasts go by without wanting to put her mouth on them. Onyx was similarly mesmerized by Molly's legs, by her chest, and her knowing grins.
The two lay in bed together, on their sides, heads buried between one another's legs in a long, aimless bout of lovemaking. Molly and Onyx reveled in the give and take. When one whimpered and laid her head against her lover's thigh, weakly succumbing to the other's kiss, there was no sense of unfairness or of anyone not holding up their end of things. There was only further indulgence.
It was Molly's turn to enjoy this time, her lips and tongue giving out in the effort to bring Onyx to orgasm as her dark-haired partner got the better of her. Molly gave in, breathing heavily and enjoying the scent of her lover's sex while her own was kissed and sucked closer and closer to climax. Finally, Onyx added a wicked finger to the mix. Molly's release came in a throbbing bout of pleasure that left her spent and at her girlfriend's mercy.
"I'm not... wow," Molly sighed. "I'm not sure I can retaliate just yet."
"Poor baby," Onyx smiled. She pulled away from Molly, heedless of Molly's small whimper of complaint as she shifted around. The kisses she trailed along Molly's belly and up towards her breasts more than made up for it.
"So in love with you," Molly droned, "you don't even know."
Then the phone went off. It was neither Molly's nor Onyx's, but the one sitting on the nightstand beside the bed with the unfamiliar ringtone.
"I should get that," groaned Molly.
Onyx took her mouth off of Molly's breast long enough to say, "So get it."
Molly grumbled. She reached for the phone, picked it up and hit the answer button. "Kevin Murray's phone," she said, "but this is not Kevin Murray."
"Ah, yeah, can I speak with Officer Murray, please?"
Molly let one hand fall down onto the long dark locks of the hot girl making out with her breasts. They shared a wink. "He can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?"
"Yeah, this is just Joel Chang from the Times, and I wanted to get Officer Murray's comment on the pursuit and shooting he was in just a few hours ago? And the attack on his home? I'm told he's been released from the hospital already, is that correct?"
Molly's eyes snapped wide open. "What!?"
* * *
The police tape did nothing to deter the two women, nor did the damage to the front of the townhouse. All the cops who'd been on the scene marking down every little thing had taken off before darkness fell. Molly and Onyx picked their way through the barriers of yellow tape and fallen debris to the closed, bullet-ridden door.
"Swear to God," Molly murmured, "if anything happened to him or to Attila I'll never forgive myself."
"Molly, it's not your fault psychos with guns did psycho stuff," Onyx said. "The reporter guy said Kevin's out of the hospital already. I'm sure he's fine."
"Still," Molly said, finding the key to Kevin's apartment on her chain, "I just need to know everything's okay."
"You really think he'd even still be here?" Onyx asked.
"Well, I don't want to try to deal with that stupid desk jockey answering the phone for the non-emergency numbers again," Molly frowned. "He was no help at all and—Attila!"
The cat wandered up to her as if nothing was wrong or out of place. He leapt up into her arms. Molly held him tight. "Oh, kitty, I was so worried!"
A light shone on them from up the stairs. Molly and Onyx looked up into it out of reflex, then found themselves squinting at the bright source. "Who are you?" asked a deep but feminine voice.
"I'm Molly Murray," came the answer. "My uncle lives here. Who are you?"
"Oh. Hah!" the woman laughed. She pointed her flashlight to the ceiling. The couple at the entrance saw her short, dark hair, her bare shoulder, and the gun in her other hand, now pointed safely at the floor. "Are you two the ones who stole all of Murray's clothes?"
"Who are you?" Molly blinked.
"Sorry, I'm Claudia. I work with Kevin. Kind of. Not in the same precinct. Anyway, he's cool. He's up here. But he's in the bathtub right now. Oh, hey, did you bring Kevin's clothes back?"
"...yeah?" Onyx ventured. "They're still in the car." In truth, they had never been offloaded to begin with.
Claudia paused, looked over her shoulder, then back down at them and hissed, "Can you bring 'em back tomorrow, maybe? Or Sunday? We're kind of both on two days' leave now 'cause of what went down today with work. Mandatory psych thing."
"I..." Molly faltered for only a moment. "I think we can do that."
"Awesome. I'll tell him you came by and I sent you away. It'll drive him nuts. Thanks!" With that, she slipped back into the bedroom and turned the flashlight off. The townhouse was completely dark again.
Onyx stared up the steps into the shadows. "What was that?" she asked.
"Probably another crazy woman. They all are." Attila meowed. Molly scratched his head. "Yeah, you know it, kitty."
Onyx gave him a few pets for good measure. "Guess we should go, then?"
"Yeah," Molly huffed. "I do not wanna hear the sound of whatever's goin' on upstairs."