Wedding Hornies Do We All Get That Way at Weddings
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The Wedding PhotographerChapter 8 free porn video
Lester Martin ... the wedding photographer
Deacon Burke ... the retired cop
Janice the waitress at the downtown diner
Juan handy man
Lynne Simmons madam
Cathy Lynne’s employee
George Wells dead highway patrolman.
Roger Heart internal affairs lieutenant
Leslie Wells
Ruth Simpson and Marion Davidson brides
Janice Allen mgr of magnolia manor guest house
Jodie the fifteen year old daughter
Emily the ex-wife.
Deputy Miles Thompson the officer in charge of the drug bust
Simone one of Lynne’s girls
Mike the dead ex-cop
Trudy Deacon’s client.
Eddie Samantha’s ex husband.
Samantha the assistant district attorney
Sam was back home in plenty of time to greet her ex husband and her son. I spent Sunday afternoon and evening alone working on Saturday’s wedding. I was deep into it when one of the local cops called.
“Mr Martin, they signed the release order for your shotgun Friday. The pistol they are holding in evidence for another week to run some ballistic comparisons. But the shotgun is ready for release.”
“I’ll be in for it sometime tomorrow morning,” I said.
I finished eliminating the throwaway images. I was into the tweaking when Samantha called. “John got back safe and Eddie is gone all is right with the world.”
“That’s good are you getting ready for bed,” I asked.
“I am,” she declared and paused as though waiting for something.
“Well I’d run over and practice my sneaking around, but I have work to do,” I admitted.
“Oh well back to real life, good night.” she said before breaking the connection.
“Goodnight,” I agreed. I went back to work on the images. They kept me busy until midnight. When I finally slipped into bed, it was a couple of minutes after the witching hour. I stretched out, I’m sure I had a smile on my face when I fell into a deep asleep.
The next morning was an average morning, except I skipped the early morning shower and I ate the last of the brownies. I set the washing machine up for my summer wedding outfit. While it ran, I sat on the deck with my after brownie cup of coffee. I also stared at the birds hoovering over the field. They were crows I decided.
I wondered if Earlene would have chased them when her leg was healed. My mini clothes washer required that I first fill it with soap and wash water, then turn it on. When it stopped, it drained into the sink automatically, then I had to turn the water on again and fill it with rinse water. After it ran its rinse cycle, I was ready to hang up the clothes which had spun dry. I carried them onto the deck inside my mop bucket. Don’t worry, I cleaned if from the blood scrub first. Once on the deck, I stretched out the line and hung my shorts, knit shirt, and a couple of other things on the line.
Since I needed to be well awake before I started work on the display images, I had one more cup of coffee. I was on a caffeine high when I moved to the computer.
I worked on the images for the display between trips to the kitchen to tend my second load of washing. So as not to waste any time, I made more coffee at the same time. After all that I would return to my computer. It was a busy morning.
When the washing was complete and I reached a good stopping place, I drove to the police station. I explained to the desk sergeant that I was there to pick up my property. I hoped they would give me the .38 as well as the 12 gauge. They didn’t of course.
Since I didn’t want the 12 gauge in the car, in case of road rage, I drove straight home. My phone played a beetle’s ring tone, it was one Jodie had put on it. I was driving, so I allowed the call to go through to voice mail.
I forced myself to enter the house with the shotgun before I read my text message. ‘Pick up a burger from Micky D’s and meet me at the overlook where the cop got killed. We will make it a working lunch. Sam.’
I looked at the clock on my phone. I had about an hour to work on the images. It wasn’t enough time to get anything done. So I checked my email instead. I had one from Jodie. I decided to open it after lunch since it most likely would spoil my mood. Instead I poured a glass of day old iced tea from the small refrigerator.
I went to the deck to watch the cornfield being raided by the crows. I made an appointment for a Show and Tell while I was on the deck. It was for that same afternoon at the downtown park. The client had been recommended by a former bride.
When I hung us the phone, I checked the time and knew I would need to rush. I could only hope that the drive thru wasn’t full of angry customers. I found that God was on my side that morning. Not even the poor service could ruin my good mood for more than a minute.
I got to the lake before her, which was always the plan. She pulled her big ass Buick into a space near my tiny Hyundai. She got out quickly before I could ask if she wanted to use her car. Obviously she cared more about crumbs than I did.
Since I had the giant iced tea thermos. I hadn’t bought cokes. “Okay Sam what’s the occasion?” I asked.
“What you didn’t think it was a fun idea,” she asked.
“Sure, but I also sense there is something more going on here. So if I’m wrong make a note that I suffer from cop paranoia.” I replied.
“Even paranoids have to watch their back,” she agreed. “The state boys are going to call you in for a chat about the George Wells thing.”
“Thanks for the heads up, but I had nothing to do with Wells,” I said.
“It looks bad,” she said. “I mean one cop, probably on the take, and one ex cop definitely living in the shade, both die around you. That’s a real coincidence,”
“In spite of what we believe, God does work in mysterious ways. I don’t pretend to know what his plans are. If you are more worldly, you can call it chance, or misfortune. I prefer to think of it as a cosmic wheel turning.” I said it trying to sound much wiser than I felt.
“You know you are crazy,” she said. “So much for giving you a heads up.”
“Listen Sam I’m absolutely innocent I don’t need a heads up for an inquiry going nowhere. If it does go somewhere the bucket won’t spill shit on me. There is none with my name on it.” I said. “I’m sorry to think you believed otherwise, and screwed me anyway. That doesn’t sound like you.”
“You son of a bitch,” she said.”
“Oh that won’t sound good on the wire?” I asked. She got out of the car and almost ran to her Buick.
“I said, “Bitch,’ in a whisper. My thought was, I see my luck with women hasn’t changed. It was enough to cause me to swear off them.
Someone should have told her, as a lab geek in Jackson, I had been involved with hundreds of stings over my thirty years. I was also probably been involved in fifty or sixty ‘Honey Traps’ as well. Woman always made the best undercover agents, one of the detective sergeants said many times.
Why they would use an ADA was a mystery. The DA’s office must be trying to make me out as a criminal master mind, I thought. It was a sick fucking joke. However spending twenty of my last year in jail didn’t seem at all humorous.
I got on the phone to Marcy. “So what should I do to nip this in the bud?” I asked.
“It depends on how good a fuck she was,” Marcy said. “If you ever want to sleep with her again, do nothing. If not, file a complaint with her boss.”
“You know me Marcy, I like to keep my options open,” I said.
“Then say nothing, but keep you eyes and ears open. I am going to make a note of the time and date of this call. You did know I record all phone calls?” she asked for the tape.
“Of course I did. I also know they are covered by client confidentiality.” I said.
“Exactly, have a good one,” she said.
I tried to focus on the show and tell. I took the new laptop with my wedding sample CD. It also included samples of the bridal portraits I had made. It was the full wedding package without the heavy books of my former show.
We sat on the park bench while she ran through the samples. They proved good enough to land the contract. I had her sign the bank transfer sending her debit card payment to my bank account.
I entered her wedding date and times as well as her appointment for a bridal portrait shot at my home studio. I actually entered them into two different calendars in two different devices. One in the chrome computer and one into my text messages to myself. I entered her phone number into the phone with a code that directed me back to the chrome computer file. Then I did a backup to the cloud before I stopped backing it all up. It was way more technology than I was comfortable with, so I filled out a paper contract and slid it inside the laptop until I got home to my file cabinet which was stored inside Jodie’s room.
I got home, after a stop for ice cream. I didn’t have any calls from Sam and I hadn’t expected any. Sometimes you just know when it’s over, I thought.
I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich just because I wasn’t completely tired of teenager food. I always drank the ice tea, so it was a typical dinner for me back when I was counting calories. The jelly was sugar free blackberry, the peanut butter was about seventy calories, because the bread was a small hamburger bun it was only ninety calroies. So I had less than three hundred calories about the same as the two cones of soft service ice cream from McDonalds.
After my sandwich I moved files around from my show and tell. I had them all 1000% secure within twenty minutes. The digital show was ready. It had been a perfect demonstration, even if she did buy my smallest package. It was the one I preferred to sell to be honest. I never like working hard for my money. Not even when I was supposed to do so. Now that I had a choice, I chose to go softly into that goodnight.
When I went to sleep on that Monday, the display was completely programed and backed up. I even considered it tested, since I used it to sell a wedding while sitting in the park. It had a few non technical bumps in the road, but it worked. I just needed to work on my people skills.
But before I did that, I needed sleep. I took my usual arthritis Tylenol, Aleve, and Benadryl cocktail. Then waited half and hour and went to bed. I took the cocktail at night every night. It kept me from waking with terrible pain in the middle of the night.
When I awoke in the morning, it was two Aleve before I even made coffee. By the time I finished two cups, the pills kicked in enough so that I could walk without a cane. That was always my goal for the day. Most days I made it all day without a cane, so I counted each of those days as a success.
Two boring weeks passed without so much as a word from Samantha Williams. I felt like I must be getting better since two days in a row passed with me wanting to call her. When I thought of the whole sorry affair, I failed to resent her actions at all. The mess with the old dead cop, the old dead ex cop and me in the middle was a cluster fuck waiting to happen. I did wonder if there really was a connection, and if so what it was.
It took the two weeks before I was willing to even consider it. When I did, it began to make sense to me. There were probably a hundred more plausible answers than the one I came up with. The problem was I didn’t fit into any of them, except the one. I knew the best thing to do was to either ignore it, or to take it for a walk.
The death of George Wells was the beginning of the end, or the end of the beginning. It all depended on how I looked at it. Lets suppose for a minute that someone was recruiting retired cops with a flexible sense of right and wrong. Also those cops might be nearing retirement. One who had little to loose, and who needed money for a new bass boat or something like it.
Recruiting them would be easy for a well known, and upright member of the community. Those kinds of cops and ex-cops could call in a favor from a still working brother now and then. The mastermind had to also be a recruiter. Someone who dealt in favors. My number one candidate for the job was The Deacon. I could see how he lured me into the life. If I hadn’t had the wedding photography gig, I would have been a prime candidate for a slot.
He recruited me before I had a semi successful operation. Looking back I could see how it all was a dance between the deacon and me. I had no proof and I wasn’t likely to get any since I told him to fuck off. He either suspected I knew something, or he was sure I knew something, either of which might mean I was going to be a target. I wasn’t sure what to do, but I chose my default position. I decided to just ignored it. It was so very unlikely. After all a part-time employment agency for ex-cops was hard to buy or sell even for me.
I made the conscious decision not to do anything. After all even being a junkie was just a life choice. It was like being a Scientologist. I thought it was dumb, but with just a few exceptions, people made that decision themselves. Drugs were by far the root of most illegal activities. Most of the others were confined to a small percentage of mankind. Okay I was against organized crime, but it had existed since men first banded together around the community fire to fight over the day’s kill.
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