Rigor MortisChapter 2
- 4 years ago
- 17
- 0
The only thing that I didn’t like about dating FBI Special Agent Gloria was that she was all caught up in the handcuff fetish and would hook me to the wrought iron bedpost sometimes when I fell asleep in the middle of the night.
I didn’t mind her riding me on top because I liked the way her ass cheeks slapped into my thighs with that meaty sound of mutual lust that never failed to make me as hard as a rock at the right time.
We were alone in the bedroom late that night and she had me just where she wanted me.
Her younger sister Eve was out on the sofa sound asleep watching a gory Vampire movie that was so phony it probably made most viewers laugh instead of scaring the shit out of them like it was advertised in the TV Guide.
In a way I wished the oversexed teenager was in here watching us because her presence made everything a little bit more interesting if the truth be told.
My phone was ringing with us on the final approach to a safe landing with my salami buried deeply inside the Special Agent’s womanhood and I wanted to shout out,
“Answer the phone, it might be important.”
Wisely, I kept my mouth shut and immediately after I flooded Gloria’s snatch with a heavy load of male juices, she rolled over and answered the phone of her own volition as she was using my number as her contact number as well.
“That’s OK, Officer Kennedy just tell me the details and I will pass it onto Detective Malone right away.”
“Are you saying that all three officers are definitely deceased?”
She stood there totally buck naked and tossed me the handcuff key as I scrambled to free my arm from the bedpost.
“Inform the Inspector we will both be there in less than thirty minutes.”
Gloria started to fill me in as she shook her tail getting dressed in a hurry.
“That was your Uncle’s assistant informing us that most of his special squad was just killed up in Central Park at the underpass leading to the Zoo.”
I beat her to getting my gear on and asked only one question.
“Did my Uncle get hurt?”
She shook her head in the negative, but didn’t utter the words I wanted to hear. I had a pretty good read on the strong-willed FBI agent at that point and I translated that as more neutral than a simple no.
Of course, we managed to wake Eve up on the way through the living room and she insisted on making us both a cup of coffee to take on the road over to the scene of the crime.
We were both silent with our own thoughts on the way uptown and in a sense I really appreciated the insulation of not having to talk because I was afraid I would lose my grasp on reality and get lost in fruitless speculation.
Central Park was a circus well-lit with police searchlights.
The outer rim of the center attraction was jam-packed with members of the press. I recognized a lot of them and felt pity for their subdued early morning spiritless attempts to gather information for their puppet-masters downtown. I saw a redheaded stringer at the Daily News standing behind the police tape with her hastily pulled on too-tight jeans and no bra look at me with recognition in her sleep-deprived blue eyes. Strangely, I couldn’t recall her name but I knew with certainty that I had screwed her nice and slow in the men’s room of the cop bar I favored before getting my knee shot up. It wasn’t really that long ago but it seemed like an eternity and I regretted my ungentlemanly neglect in returning her calls because the last thing I wanted at that time was pity.
I waved Gloria on inside the command center set up just outside the monkey cages and went over to my forgotten name hot number and gave her a hug without saying a word. She was a perceptive broad and she greeted me with not only my correct name but also threw hers in as well knowing what jerks most men are when it came to discarded pussy.
“Can you give me any comment, Detective? I promise I won’t use your name.”
Her hand on my belly was burning a hole in my resolve to keep my mouth shut.
“Sorry, Cindy, I literally just got here and am going in now to get the briefing. All I know is that three of my Uncle Joe’s squad got cut down while on an assignment and it is still early days.”
“No Problem, Mike. I can wait until later if you get a moment to give me a jingle.”
Thankfully, she gave me her number because I still didn’t have the slightest on her last name and would feel like a jerk to have to ask her. I promised to call her as soon as possible and headed inside the tent before my absence was noticed by the higher ups.
If nothing else, I knew Joe and the other interested parties at police headquarters didn’t want an unattached FBI investigator at their crime scene without a proper handler. I knew they were keen on my daily reports of the Federal side of the house and that that trusted I would only state the facts and not hand them a line of bullshit buried in legal mumbo-jumbo.
Gloria pretended she wasn’t pissed at my tardiness and managed to keep far enough away from me to make it look like we were reluctant partners and not the asshole buddies we actually were. That was fine with me because the last thing I wanted at this juncture was the impression that I was “in bed” with the Feds in more ways than one.
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...
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...
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...
The aftermath of the vicious assault on the police headquarters left a lousy taste in my mouth and made me more attentive to possible threats close enough to cause me harm. My Uncle was in a rotten mood and was staying mum on the investigation. That did a lot to increase my sense of paranoia about who was a good guy and who was worth a second look. The day started badly and got worse when my cute secretary with whom I had had some special moments announced in a stage whisper as she was...
I discovered that the Attorney General’s office were a bunch of busy little bees because the police headquarters was swarming with hordes of young men and women all wearing the distinctive jackets with the title “FBI” emblazoned on the back. I knew they had taken the files and were starting to carry the ball on the corruption charges that my Uncle Joe had been fighting to institute these last few years but without success. The case had enough dead bodies to start a tidal wave of protest from...
I got up early that Sunday morning with a determination to put in a run along Central Park West all the way from one end to the other. I actually made it up to eighty-second street before I decided to quit and save it for another day. Saturday night was a bit of a blur but it wasn’t from the booze. I had that under control these days. No, I had gotten a touch of the virus that was floating around the city making working mothers crazy with figuring out what to do with their sneezing,...
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Early the next morning, I picked up two coffees and a pair of doughnuts for Gloria and me to pig out on up on the roof of the Federal building downtown. She was frowning at the doughnut but I noticed she didn’t hesitate to shove it in her pretty little mouth and wash it down with a big swallow of Java. The tough FBI Special Agent had been making noises lately about her putting on some extra pounds around the hips and I took it all with a grain of salt because I was so used to most of the...
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Introduction: I have included the first posting, for your convenience if you would like to re-read it to get caught up to the point part 2 picks up. I will write about some of the other lessons she gave me when I have time to get it all out and post a complete version. Some of the readers on here do not like unfinished accounts and I understand that. I was writing as I had time and posting whatever I had written at that point in time. Part 1, reposted here for your convenience I was young....