Rigor MortisChapter 2
- 4 years ago
- 25
- 0
The sky over Manhattan that Monday morning were grey and overcast with a fog that lingered in the long cold stripes called Avenues all the way from the East River to the mighty Hudson rushing brown and swollen out to the Atlantic Ocean. I figured it was not a good time for the news helicopters to be navigating the high-rises and it brought back my fear of the noisy, smelly things that spelled finis to a number of my compadres in the Marine Corps quick response team of which I was one of the few surviving members.
I tended to avoid the choppers with a vengeance just like the cycles that had wiped out a few of my high school buddies before the law passed that required the wearing of helmets to protect immature brain housing groups.
There I was in Lola’s apartment building looking foolishly at the sign that said “Out of Order” on the dirty elevator in the lobby.
When I hit the fourth floor, I had to pause because I was out of breath.
I realized that I had gained a few extra pounds on my glorious “Honeymoon” with Red and the teenaged couple with a modern view of sharing and absolutely no sense of moral values.
Red was locked up in her apartment tending a nasty case of the Flu that was going around wiping out the senior citizens and a fair share of unvaccinated children whose parents had totally disregarded the flood of dire warnings issued by the government to get their “Free Shot”.
I felt fine with my annual Veterans Administration check-up that always included a shot with a new blend of vaccine.
Just before I reached her floor, I had the sudden thought that perhaps I should have called her first to warn her of my visit. I smiled at my lust laden reflection in the hallway mirror that confirmed my hesitation in calling was because I feared rejection out of hand and I was not good at persuading females on the phone to change their mind with my ability to charm face to face.
All it required was for her to be alone for me to wheedle my way past her locked front door and I knew with certainty she would soon be writhing beneath me begging me “Please Don’t Stop!”
I felt sorry for Red but I was not going near her with a ten foot pole while she was contagious with the nasty Flu that was hitting the Big Apple with hard reality.
Lola opened the door and was holding her phone to her ear talking to some producer or director about some silly project that required her to be “bottomless” for a scant thirty seconds of porno content that she was contractually allowed to refuse without added compensation. I overheard her ask for twenty-five “G’s” and I had to smile at her high-priced change of heart on exposing her goodies to the masses wondering what else she had a price tag on in the area of perverting common decency for cold, hard cash.
It didn’t make her a whore, but it sure did come real close.
It only took a scant twenty minutes to get Ms. Lola into my favorite “face down, ass up” position on the sofa to take advantage of her weakness for dick in the morning hours. We managed to get the towels under her belly soaking wet with our juices in record time and I watched her perfect heart-shaped ass retreating down the narrow hallway to the bathroom for repairs. I looked down at my shrinking cock and promised it that I would be far more patient in future and give it a chance to enjoy it a little bit longer. I knew it was immature of me to accelerate my pounding of Lola’s beautiful stern after I had passed the point of no return instead of slowing down and savoring the moment of deep insertion into her pretty pussy pie. I couldn’t blame the poor girl because she had no choice and we both knew she “just had to have it” and I could see her tingle was both emotional and very, very wet.
No, it was all my fault and I knew it and all I could do was promise my poor dick to be more constrained in the future to prolong the moment and, perhaps, even entertain the thought of romance to enter my mind instead of the violent lust that always seemed to seize me by my balls and force me to slam home my hardness without mercy until I scored a winning goal all by myself crossing the finish line delivering the goods with my eyes wide open and my thumb ravaging her pulsating back door like a preview of the second act yet to come.
We eventually made it into the shower and washed away our sins with scented bath soap and busy fingers entering every nook and cranny.
I passed Lola her undies and watched her dress in a reverse striptease that kept me from losing my stiffness below the belt.
I was burning with the need to ask her some pertinent questions but for some strange reason, I kept my mouth shut and simply pretended I was interested only in the sex and had no ulterior motive on my mind.
In the back of my mind, I had a little voice that was assailing my actions, wanting to know what exactly the fuck I was doing. I knew I had a job to do and a case to solve, but all I wanted at that moment was Lola in position underneath my pounding dick and I was contented to let it go at that.
When I got back to my office, I called Uncle Joe hoping to get some more direction or a fresh lead to help me focus in on the killer with better results than before.
His secretary answered the phone and told me he was in a meeting with the top brass and the best she could do was to pass my message along to him. It was a bit of a disappointment, but I pushed it out of my mind and concentrated on sorting out the facts already collected.
I noticed that Julie, my secretary was dabbing at her eyes with her hanky and I wondered if she was coming down with the Asian flu that was going around so fast it would make your head spin. Since she wasn’t coughing or sneezing, I figured it was safe to ask her and she gave me one of those looks that I really hated because it meant that I was going to get an earful of female problems, the kind that had nothing to do with the Flu or really important shit like guys paid attention to.
It was easy to see my succulent secretary was fairly busting to break the news to me about the box-seats at the ball park. She gave a short spiel about how she got the info from a source she called “That darling boy at the team’s front office.” I got the distinct impression that no money changed hands in the procurement of the intelligence but her mood indicated she was running on all eight cylinders in the information gathering operation and probably rewarded him in a more personal...
I met my Uncle Joe over at the cop bar on Eighth Avenue that still used sawdust to keep the dirt down on the floor. The scent of the lunchtime menu overpowered the aroma of the beer and spirits that never left the place if you had a sensitive nose. The thing I liked best about the White Rose was their mid-day collection of hot food for the blue-collar workers in the neighborhood. Of course, most of the clientele washed it all down with liberal helpings of the draft beer that tasted like it...
Raymond stood there shaking the raindrops from his obviously borrowed or stolen woman’s umbrella and I could tell from his shifty eyes he was spinning his story with every word that crossed his lips. In all honesty, I didn’t really mind because I was used to Raymond by now and I hoped we could work together without one of us killing the other because underneath it all our dislike was a mirror image. I caught him ogling my secretary Julie’s ass when she bent over to fill my first cup of the...
I knew I should be working on running down the leads in Raymond’s unfortunate demise despite my Uncle’s reluctance to stir things up. It was like we had stepped on an ant-hill with all the Internal Affairs sleazebags poking their noses into the everyday happenings of operational policing. I had to admit it was well within the realm of probability that Raymond’s death was linked to the investigation work he was doing for me on the Donnie Anderson case. Of course that narrowed down the list...
I should have suspected there was something wrong right off the bat and that it was not a normal middle of the week morning that dreary Wednesday in the city that never sleeps. It was too late now because I was already down at police headquarters swigging down my second cup of overly strong java without benefit of cream or sugar because the spoons were far too dirty to even consider using what with the nasty Asian flu still going around like Montezuma’s revenge on a side trip to Tijuana for...
Rita admitted to me after a few drinks that she was working an assignment from Internal Affairs to weed out the dirty cops taking money from the shadowy cartels that kept the drugs flowing smoothly on the violent streets. I had sort of suspected as much from the way she was asking all the right questions and knew way too much for a rookie cop. Rita told me to be quiet because her room-mate was a light sleeper. I soon discovered it was either a lie or she actually wasn’t aware that her...
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This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between this story and any actual person, living or dead, is coincidental. The story contains mature subject matter. It may contain adult situations and/or language. If you're not old enough to legally read this (and you know who you are), then get out of here before it's too late. You've been warned. Permission is granted to archive or repost this story as long as the text is unaltered, and our copyright and this notice are...
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