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 (mc)(notsomuchparody)
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<1st attachment, "TuckAmuck.txt" begin>


I Fought The Law, And...   5.1 "Tuck Amuck" (mc)
(notsomuchparody)


Copyright by Writerzblocked, 2002.  All rights, well, you know.
Repost and archive to your heart's content, just don't charge
anyone for it or I'll have to send Harry Long after you. You all
know the rest of the drill by now.  I'm not big on headers and/or
labels, so anyone reposting may feel free to add whatever MF, MM,
FF stuff they think is necessary. 

********************************************

Tuck Amuck (complete)

{Authors note:   We now take a break from hearing Warren Bandan
talk in order to bring you a totally different point of view -
sorta.  If you don't like it, feel free to ignore it; the
big-headed, egocentric, sadistic, big-mouthed jerk will be back
in action in a month or so.  Apologies to MM and CJ - but not
many}


"Any change?"

"No, ma'am. Pretty much the same as yesterday. The doctor says he
could come out of it at anytime, though, so I think it would be
best to keep the officer posted outside."

"Seems kind of a waste of manpower to me, but I guess it's better
to err on the side of caution."

"Is it true what they say happened at the courthouse?"

"Well, unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to say, so long as the
investigation is ongoing."

"I understand."

"Is his lawyer still in there?"

"Yes, the only time she left his side was when the DA came over
to visit yesterday."

"The DA?"

"Well, I think that's what she was.  They went and had lunch in
the cafeteria..."

"Hmm, could you describe her?"

"Tall, thin, brown hair. Very well dressed. I think she said she
was the DA."

"That's very peculiar.  Thanks."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Uh, no, it's just that...well, anyway, I'm not at liberty to
discuss it."

"Oh, I understand.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make my
rounds.  Mrs. Maltese in 14B needs to have her catheterchanged."

"Ugh."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's OK, really," she smiled as the young nurse left to tend to
her duties.

The older woman reached into her handbag and pulled out a pack of
gum as she turned away from the nurse's station to look down the
corridor.  Officer Deevers was still sitting quietly outside the
door, reading the sports section.  She unwrapped a stick of
spearmint and popped it in her mouth as she walked down the hall.
Sensing her, Deevers looked up from his paper.

" 'Morning, Detective."

" 'Morning, Deevers.  How'd the Mets do?"

"Uh, well, I was actually looking at the tittie bar ads to see
where the specials were tonight.  Big Daddy's has two-for-one
table dances until 7 if you're interested."

She stopped chewing for a second and tightly balled up the used
wrapper in one hand.

"Gotcha, " he said with a smile. "Beat the Padres, 5-1.  Piazza
hit a three-run homer in the seventh."

"Not funny, Deevers." She glared. "It'll be at least five months
before they get their liquor license back."

"Really proud of that one, aren't you?  Never mind that some of
the guys really liked that place..."

"Well, they should've, considering all the dirty money that got
shelled out."

He snapped the paper open sharply and looked back down at it in
obvious disgust.  "Yeah, yeah, save it for someone who gives a
shit, pardon my French. I don't know how Mario puts up with you.
Don't you have some pedophile to kick or something?"

She moved her hand to dispose of the wrapper in his general
direction, then stopped, passed it from one hand to the other,
and dropped it in the wastebasket next to the door. Adjusting her
handbag, she pushed the door open.

"Good day to you, too, Officer," she said as she entered the
room.

"Fuck you, Detective."

Instinctively, she looked about the rather large room as she
entered.  Most obvious was the television set mounted on the far
wall; the volume control was set very high and the loud noise of
explosions and other cacophonous sound effects echoed through the
otherwise quiet suite.  Across the room from the television was
the adjustable bed, which was currently set upright to a sitting
position, even though the male patient on it seemed in a deep
sleep.  On the right side of the bed, sitting in a chair, also
apparently asleep, was a very young woman, her head laid
pleasantly on the lap of the patient.

She walked to the television set and turned down the volume and,
immediately, the woman at the side of the bed came to life. 
While the young woman rubbed her eyes, the Detective's eyes
widened noticeably as she studied her.  She was in her late teens
to early twenties, but her choice of clothing made her look
several years younger than she probably was.  She was dressed in
a plain white blouse and red-and-black plaid skirt that barely
reached below her waist and her blonde hair was done up in
pigtails.  Her lips were bright red and she wore heavy blush on
her cheeks and purple eyeshadow above her fairly large brown
eyes.  The Detective continued to stare.

"What's the matter?" the younger woman asked as she rose to walk
past her to the television set.  "You've, like, never seen a
lawyer before?"  Her voice was very distinctive, and very high
pitched.

"Uh, yes, but..."

"He likes the sound turned up," the girl interrupted before she
could answer, "especially during the cartoons."  She adjusted the
volume dial back and the chaotic noises returned.

Ignoring the television for the moment, the Detective turned
towards the apparently comatose man.  "But the nurse said he's
still in a coma..."

The younger girl let out a heavy sigh and hung her head as she
walked back to the bed.  With her head no longer in his lap, the
sheets had begun to slide down his chest.  "Yeah.  But he STILL
likes the sound turned up."

The detective followed her. "But if he's in a coma, how do you
know?"

The young girl sat back down and reached over and pulled the
sheets back up around his neck.  "You wouldn't understand."

The detective extended her hand.  "I'm Detective Tuck, with the
Sex-Crimes division.  You must be Miss Kramer."

The girl laid her head back on his lap, her eyes closing halfway,
contentedly, and ignored the gesture.  "Call me Bubbles. Everyone
does," she said in a drowsy voice.

Tuck hesitated for a moment at that, then quickly pulled over
another chair and sat beside her.  "I know this is a bad time,
but I really have to ask you some questions."

Bubbles closed her eyes and adjusted her head, rubbing it lightly
in the sheets.  "If it's about the courtroom thing, you know, you
need a court order to, like, make me talk.  Attorney-client
privilege, and all that.  And like I would anyway."

The policewoman sighed slightly and continued.  "Well, there's a
good chance the DA will decide to file charges against YOU as an
accessory.  So it might be in your best interests to come clean
right now."

It was apparent the girl was almost asleep again now.

"Whatever," she managed, weakly.

The Detective stared at the girl for a few minutes, then, finally
stood and paced about the room. Adjusting one bra strap
nervously, she took the pack of gum from her handbag and took out
another stick.  She turned back towards the television, which was
now in the middle of a cartoon.  She smiled.  Then laughed.  Then
shivered.  The cartoon ended.

She looked back at the comatose man and suddenly shuddered,
barely catching her handbag as it slid off her shoulder. Both the
pack of gum and the single stick fell to the floor and bounced in
opposite directions.  Just at that time, Bubbles awoke and lifted
her head towards the woman.

"He likes you," she smiled. 

Again, Tuck's body shook all over, but this time she
instinctively reached into her handbag to retrieve her .38.  She
drew it slowly and, her hands shaking, looked over at the bed. 
The patient was still comatose, his eyes only occasionally
twitching from reflex. The girl was staring blankly at her, that
same smile still etched on her face. Tuck lifted the gun and...

...watched it fall to the floor with a dull thud.  Then she
wrapped both her arms around herself and hugged for dear life.

"What the HELL are you doing, Amanda Tuck!" she cursed under her
breath, bending over as if to retch.

She barely managed to catch herself before she fell to her knees.
 Then she looked back towards the figures on the bed.  Bubbles
Kramer was still staring at her and smiling contentedly, though
she appeared wide-awake now.  And calm.

"Amanda."  Bubbles purred.  "What a pretty name."

The woman detective straightened up and took several very deep
breaths before turning to Bubbles.  "Oh, I don't know what to
say, Miss Kramer...err, Bubbles.  I'm so sorry.  I don't know
what happened."

Bubbles just smiled at her.

"I mean, really.  Nothing like that has EVER happened to me
before.  It's actually only the second time I've drawn my gun."

Bubbles straightened the sheets again.

Tuck put her hand to her head and took in another few deep
breaths.  "Damn. Damn. Damn." She repeated over and over to
herself.

Bubbles laid her head back down on the man's lap, but continued
to stare at the detective. 

After a few moments, the policewoman bent down and looked at the
gun lying on the ground.  She picked up the stick of gum instead,
hurriedly unwrapped it and plopped it in her mouth.  Then she
went to retrieve the pack.  When she stood back up, the gun
remained on the floor.

Then she noticed Bubbles staring, but not at her. At the pack of
gum.

Her hands still shaking visibly, the detective forced a smile and
held out her hand.  "Oh, I'm so sorry.  Would you like some?"

The effect was immediate and brutal.  Bubbles' face contorted,
her lower lip started to quiver and a wetness began to wash the
purple from her eyes.  She looked up at the face of the man in
the bed and her hands clutched at the sheets.

"I promised."

"Promised?"

"snif.  I'm not gonna do it 'till he comes back."

"Do what?"

"snif.  Well, all the way back, anyway."

"Do what?"

"snif.  You wouldn't understand."  And at that, she grabbed a
double handful of sheet and buried her face in it.

The detective took in the scene for a few more moments, then
shook her head slightly, sighed and left the room. Behind her,
the television continued to blare, but neither it nor the linens
could muffle the highly pitched wailing which followed her from
that suite.

Outside the room, Officer Deevers rose to greet her as she
exited, a sneer on his face. "Wonderful effect you have on
people, detective."

"Fuck you, Officer," she replied under her breath as she passed
him, making her way quickly down the hallway. Passing the nurse's
station, both hands rose to cover her ears as a trio of nurses
ran past her down the hallway towards the door from which she had
come.

A half-hour later, Detective Amanda Tuck pulled her Grand Am over
at a convenience store. Taking a large wad of gum from her mouth,
she deposited in a wastebasket before entering. The large, older
man behind the counter looked up at her and smiled.

"Hello, Officer, got time for a cup of coffee?  Just made a fresh
pot."

"Sounds good, Charley.  Make it a large." 

While he was fiddling with the dispenser, he noticed her staring
behind the counter.  "Oh, no, Tuck, you better watch where those
eyes are going."

She smiled at that and reached over to grab another pack of gum.
"Oh, God, Charley, I've already got a father, you know."

"Yeah, but you're a long way from Kansas. Someone has to look out
for you," he said as he handed her the paper cup.  "Of course,
it's on me.  Even the gum.  ESPECIALLY the gum."

"Oh, yeah, you're a sweetheart, all right."  She said, taking the
coffee. "I've got a couple more interviews to do today, but I
might be back by."

"I'm counting on it. By the way, where's Mario?"

"He's catching up on some paperwork. I'm going to hook up with
him later this afternoon."

"Great. Be sure to take a few off the streets for me."

She stopped at the door and turned back towards him with a
relieved sigh.  "Boy, Charley, I'm REALLY glad to hear you say
that. It's not even noon and it's ALREADY been a bad day."

"Hey," he smiled back, "what are father's for?"

She laughed lightly at that as she turned away, tucked the gum in
her handbag and made her way to her car.

Twenty minutes later, Detective Tuck pulled her car into a
visitor's parking space at the Mason Ridge Apartment Complex. 
Taking a piece of paper from her handbag, she glanced at it for a
moment before walking up the path towards unit 5.  She approached
the door to apartment 5B and glanced down at the cup of coffee
still in her hand.  She stood there for a few moments taking in
the surroundings, turned back toward where she'd come, then
finally turned back around once again, walked up to the door and
rang the bell.

The door opened almost immediately to reveal a younger woman
dressed in a white T-shirt and jogging shorts.  She had short,
bright red hair and freckles and appeared to be short of breath.

Detective Tuck moved the cup to her left hand and extended her
right. "I"m Detective Tuck, of Sex Crimes.  Officer Sally Hooper,
I presume?"

The redhead smiled, took her hand, and stepped aside.  "That's
me.  I was wondering when you'd get here."

Tuck hesitated and brought the half-filled coffee cup to her
attention.  "Sorry, but I couldn't find a trash can nearby..."

Hooper politely took the cup.  "Oh, no bother, really.  That
stuff's bad for you anyway."

As the young woman disappeared into the apartment to dispose of
the cup, Tuck took the time to look around the entry way.  The
front door opened into a modest dining area with a kitchen off to
one side and the living area ahead.  There were many boxes lying
around both on the table and on the floor - some full, some
half-filled and many more empty.  She moved towards the table and
peered into one of the half-filled boxes.

"Yeah, I'm moving, " Sally suddenly appeared from the kitchen,
carrying two glasses full of yellow liquid.  "This place is just
too small."

Tuck lifted her head from the box, seemingly startled at her
arrival. Hooper smiled and put the two glasses down on the table.
 "Orange juice.  Much healthier than coffee."

"Of course," Tuck replied, politely taking one of the glasses. "I
suppose I ought to drink more of it."

"Well, I've found that most police officers don't really take
care of themselves like they should," Hooper said as she walked
into the living area and began to clear boxes from two chairs.

"I suppose so," Tuck replied, following her into the larger room.
 "I used to have a membership at a health club on the North side,
but I let it lapse.  But you look like you take pretty good care
of yourself."

The younger woman looked up and smiled at that, then proceeded to
shove a large box from a recliner.  "Thanks.  I try.  But it
really takes a lot of time and effort."  The box landed with a
dull thud on the brown shag carpet.

"There," she said finally, as she straightened up and motioned to
the chair.  "Sorry about the mess.  Moving can be such a pain."

"I understand," replied Tuck as she sat down and took a sip from
her glass.  "I've had my share of 'em."

"I bet," said Hooper as she walked to the table to retrieve the
other glass. "One thing I'm certainly not going to miss..."

At that, Tuck looked up at her with a puzzled expression. 
Noticing it, the redhead shrugged as she walked back into the
living area.

"I'm quitting the force."

Tuck wrapped both hands around the glass and looked at her
harshly.  "Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?"

Hooper walked over and stood against a stereo system still
assembled against the far wall. "It's something I'd actually been
thinking about before...well, you know.  Growing up, I'd always
wanted to be a social worker or even, maybe, doing something in
criminal rehab."

The detective placed the glass on a small table next to the chair
and reached into her handbag. "But, still, that's a pretty
radical step.  Are you sure you don't want to see atherapist..."

Hooper rolled her eyes and placed her half-filled glass on top of
the stereo.  "Oh, please, you sound just like my mother."

Tuck forced a smile as she pulled out a stick of gum and started
to unwrap it.  "Hey, there's a good reason we have mothers, you
know.  It's to keep us from making really stupid decisions."

Hooper glanced towards the stereo, then back to the detective. "I
don't think this one's really all that stupid.  Even
before...well, you know, I was getting pretty fed up with the
whole beat thing."

"Well, there's other things you can do," Tuck replied, popping
the gum in her mouth.  There's desk work, there's..."

"Oh, yeah, fetch coffee, type reports..."

Tuck stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the girl.  Her right
hand was running lightly over one of the speakers and her left
was fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt. She was staring at
the venetian blinds covering the sliding glass window on the back
wall.

"I can see this is really bothering you, Officer Hooper."

"Please don't call me that. My name is Sally."

"OK, Sally. It's a perfectly understandable reaction.  I've dealt
with a lot of rapes in my career, and what you're going through
is perfectly normal."

"Except most rapes don't happen to police officers in stupid,
cheap, whore outfits..."  Hooper's eyes moved back to the stereo
system and her hands started playing with the dials.

"Err, well, no."  Tuck's hands started playing with the clasps of
her handbag.

Suddenly, Hooper turned back towards the detective, her eyes
widened and her hands clasped together tightly.

"Tell me, detective, have you ever gone through something that
totally changed your life?  I'm not talking about something
simple like getting a raise or even getting married.  I'm talking
about huge, like winning the lottery kind of huge?"

"Well, I've done this long enough to KNOW that rapes can do
that."

Hooper sighed deeply and gesticulated her impatience with more
hand wringing. "Well, yeah, but this was...I don't exactly know
how to describe it...different."

"Different?"  Tuck's eyes were still looking at the girl, but her
hands were busy inside her handbag.

"Well, I haven't investigated a lot of rapes, so I don't know how
this measures up, but I figure most of them involve taking."

"Of course.  It's ALL about taking.  Except in the minds of some
of the more sick and twisted individuals..."  Tuck now had
another piece of gum out and was quickly unwrapping it.

"Well, this guy was just plain creepy, but it was like - and this
is going to sound really, really stupid - he was GIVING as well
as taking."

Tuck had the gum in her mouth, but paused long enough to look at
her with a mixture of puzzlement and disgust. "Sally, I think
that maybe you really need to see one of the department
therapists.  Believe me, they can help..."

Hooper threw up her arms.  "I knew you wouldn't understand!  You
think I'm crazy too, just like my mother..."

Tuck stood up and walked towards the agitated policewoman, her
arms open in a comforting gesture.  Hooper had both hands in
front of her face, but the detective hugged her despite it. After
a moment of silence, Hooper removed the hands from her face,
half-smiled and calmly whispered, "There's something I think you
need to hear."

The two separated, and Tuck looked down at her calmly and smiled
reassuringly.  "Sure.  But first I need to..."

"Oh, yeah," the redhead instinctively smiled and pointed towards
a small door to her left.  "Over there."

Tuck walked into the small restroom and closed the door behind
her.  Immediately, she dropped down on the closed toilet seat and
took several deep breaths.  A few moments later, she rose and
stood before the sink and turned on the tap.  Cupping water in
her hands, she brought them up to her face.  After drying off
with the hand towel, she stood silently and took a few more deep
breaths. And listened.

 From somewhere outside, came a sound.  It was a sound she didn't
seem to recognize at first, but it slowly rose in volume until
finally her eyes flashed wide suddenly and she threw open the
door.

Sally Hooper was sitting in the recliner, her face flush and
frozen in ecstasy. One hand was beneath her shirt and the other
was moving obscenely underneath her jogging shorts. Her chest was
heaving and her buttocks grinding slowly but powerfully into the
padding of the chair. The stereo speakers were almost alive with
the sound of a woman's orgasm, looped over and over and over, the
volume rising with every carnal edit.

And Detective Amanda Tuck stood there, as if frozen, glancing
from the stereo to the woman, then back to the stereo.

Hooper opened her eyes.  "Isn't it amazing, detective?  I had...a
few of the, uhuhuuu, guys from...surveillance...make it for me. 
I...uuhhh...damn...figured that they owed...it to
me...shit...considering how they...fuck...made copies for
everyone else."

Hooper took the hand from beneath her shirt and pointed towards
another empty chair, her arm trembling.  "It's
like...fuck...nothing I've ever felt before.  And
never...shit...uhhh...will again."

For a moment, Tuck looked at the empty chair, then at the woman
now lost in the throes of orgasm. Then again she trembled and
felt the gum sliding down her throat.

"It's the lottery, I tell you, detective! The fucking lottery!!"

Then Detective Amanda Tuck turned and ran from the room as
quickly as she could.

Behind her, from somewhere deep within, in a world of her own,
she could still hear Sally Hooper's voice crying out in pleasure.
 And for all her detective skills, she could not tell where the
recording ended and the woman began.

Stumbling through the complex, she managed to make it to her car
and collapse in the driver's seat.  Tearing at the clasp of her
handbag, she grabbed clumsily at the pack of gum, only to have it
fall out of the open door and onto the pavement.

"Shit!" she exclaimed as she hit the steering wheel in
frustration, inadvertently setting off the horn.  Startled, she
jumped a bit out of the seat and came down laughing.

"Damn you, Amanda. Now you're scared of a little orgasm?" she
said under her breath.

"Excuse me?" came a reply, which sent her jumping in her seat
again.  She caught her breath and turned to see what appeared to
be the complex's security guard.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said, bending down to pick
up the pack of gum.  "Just seemed like you needed some help."

She put her hand on her heart and smiled shamefacedly.  "No, but
thanks all the same. Believe it or not, I'm a police officer." 

"Heh," he laughed, handing her the pack of gum.  "That's a good
'un."

"No, seriously," she said, taking the pack and drawing a piece
out.  "Detective Amanda Tuck."

"Oh, cool, a real detective.  Uh, don't you think that would work
better if you unwrapped it first?"

She stopped just as she was about to put the unwrapped stick in
her mouth. 

Scowling, she threw the gum AND the pack to the pavement and
slammed the car door shut.  The security guard barely moved out
of her way as she thrust the Grand Am into reverse and the tires
squealed sharply as she made her way VERY rapidly out of the
parking lot.

A few minutes later, she pulled into a convenience store and
emerged with a carton of cigarettes.

Sitting in her car, she fought the carton with both hands,
finally ripping out a pack.  Furiously, she tore into it and
removed a cigarette.  She looked at it. She brought it up to her
nose and breathed in deeply. Then she slowly opened her lips and
took it in her mouth.

It was warm to her mouth, but not to her hand. Warm and fleshy,
not like any rolling paper she'd ever felt when she was smoking
regularly up until last year. She pushed it deeper into her
mouth, using her lips now instead of her hand. She sighed deeply
and closed her eyes, concentrating entirely on the sensation
growing throughout her body. Relaxed.

"They work better if you light them," came a deep voice from
somewhere outside. Startled, she felt the cigarette drop from her
mouth and her hands quickly rose from her lap to the steering
wheel.

"Unless you LIKE to suck on 'em, I suppose," continued the fellow
pumping his gas in the lane next to her.  He was smiling broadly.
 "Might have to try that sometime.  Sure looked like it was
working for you."

Quickly, she shifted out of park and her tires squealed as the
Grand Am sped from the lot.  Behind her in the distance, she
couldn't see the man scratching his head and yelling after her.

"What brand was that again?!!"

Punching the accelerator to the floor, Tuck gripped both hands
tightly on the wheel, muttering obscenities under her breath.
"What the hell has gotten into you, Amanda Tuck?!!"  You haven't
smoked in a year and you're not gonna start now."

Suddenly, she heard it. The siren. And saw it in her rear view
mirror. The black and white.

"Damn! She started to swear as she let off on the gas and
switched to the brake.  Then she smiled as she slowed down and
was laughing quietly to herself as she came to a stop. "Amazing.
Simply amazing," she said to herself over and over again as the
officer exited the patrol car and stepped up to the driver's side
of the Grand Am.

"Afternoon, ma'am. Do you realize how fast you were going?" he
said. "You were doing 50 through a school zone."

She brought one hand to her forehead as she reached into her
handbag with the other. "I'm sorry, Officer, it's been a REALLY
bad day."

"Oh, I can understand that, ma'am, it hasn't been all that good
for me either.  But it would've been a whole lot worse if one or
two kids had been crossing the street when you came speeding
through..."

She groaned audibly as she handed her badge to him.  "Oh, please,
spare me the lecture, I know the drill."

"I understand, uh...Detective Tuck," he continued, as he studied
her badge.  "but this badge doesn't give you the privilege to
ignore basic traffic laws."

"Look, kid, I'm on my way to do some interviews on the Officer
Sally Hooper rape case."

"I'm fully aware of the importance of that particular case,
ma'am, but it's all our jobs to watch out for the safety of the
folks who pay our salaries."  His right hand went down innocently
and fiddled with his nightstick as he spoke.

"Great. A fucking boy scout," she sighed to herself as she
finally looked up at the policeman.  He was very young, probably
not a year or so out of the academy, curly blonde hair holding up
his cap, blue eyes, and no sunglasses to cover them. 

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, ma'am, if you don't
mind," he smiled, and she suddenly softened, her detective
instincts leading her eyes up and down his uniform, finally
stopping for a moment on his badge.

"Sorry, son, I didn't mean to be insulting. It really HAS been a
bad day, Officer...Henderson."

He tipped his cap at that, smiled broadly, and handed her back
her badge.  "Oh, I believe you, ma'am. It's just that I've never
actually pulled over another cop before, so I don't exactly know
the protocol."

She took her badge back and returned the smile, wide and toothy.
"Well, most of the time, unless there's a definite dangerous
warning signal, like you suspect drugs or drunkenness - you don't
think I'm drunk, do you?"

His face went red.  "Oh, no ma'am. Just a bit...distracted
maybe."

"Yes. Distracted is a good description," she said as she stuffed
her badge back in her handbag. "Then proper procedure is to let
the offending officer go with a warning."  She turned back to him
and noted his hand was still playing with the baton.

"Now, ma'am, you wouldn't be telling me this just to get out of a
ticket, would you?" he still looked embarrassed.

She chuckled at that.  "Somehow, I suspect it wouldn't be the
most far-fetched thing someone's said to you to try and get out
of a ticket."

He chuckled along with her.  "Oh, no, ma'am,..."

"Amanda," she interjected.

"I've only been on this patrol for a couple of months now, but I
think I've already heard 'em all," he continued.  "Amanda."  His
hand gripped the stick tighter now.

"So, tell me, Officer Henderson..."

"Uh, Bob.  All my friends call me Bob."

"OK, then, Bob, what's the strangest, most bizarre line a woman
has ever given you to try and get out of a ticket?"

His right hand rose from the nightstick and took the cap off his
head.  He shuffled his feet a bit and looked over her car into
the distance.  "Uh, well, I can't really repeat it in mixed
company. It wouldn't be proper."

She laughed, and glanced back to his nightstick.  "Oh, come on,
Bob.  Sure you can.  There's no one around but us cops."

He fidgeted a bit at that and one hand absentmindedly went down
to adjust himself as he spoke. "No, really, I wouldn't feel
comfortable with it, out here in the middle of the street and
everything..."

"She turned back towards the street in front of her, smiling
knowingly.  "OK, then, Bob. Just hold that thought. I'm sure the
rest of the day will go much better," she said as she slowly
drove off. "Come see me next time you're downtown."

She made certain to look in the rear view mirror as she left.
Officer Bob Henderson was slowly walking back to his patrol car,
his steps light and his hands about his waist, tugging on his
belt.  She smiled naughtily as she reached over for the pack of
cigarettes...


Stopped at a red light, Detective Amanda Tuck retrieved a
briefcase from the passenger seat and removed some files and
assorted paperwork.  At the bottom of the briefcase lay a
cassette tape.  She stared at it for a few moments.

Then suddenly, the shrill sound of a car horn behind her brought
her eyes back to the road in front of her, and she slowly started
through the intersection. A moment later, she found herself at
yet another stop light and her eyes turned back to the tape.  She
extended her hand slowly towards it, then drew it back to the
steering wheel.  Drawing a deep breath, she accelerated once
again with the light change.

She flicked some ashes from the lit cigarette out of the window,
then reached into the case and retrieved the tape.  She looked at
it with one eye for a moment, then finally popped it into the
car's tape deck and drew another long drag from the cigarette,
exhaling the smoke with a long sigh.

At the next stop light, she pressed the PLAY button on the tape
deck.  Immediately, the car was filled with the soft, crisp,
sound of static, quickly followed by a series of sharp edit
clicks, then silence once again.  As she took another drag, a
voice suddenly came alive from the speakers.

"Hey, Mr. '70s Cop Show Sergeant, I'm gonna take your cute friend
here into my alley and introduce her to Mr. Chuckles!!  If you
know what's good for you, you'll just keep eating your donuts for
another 15 minutes or so before you come looking for her!"

Tuck's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand as
she drove on, cigarette ashes softly swirling around the inside
of the Grand Am...

Fifteen minutes later, Amanda Tuck pulled into the parking garage
for the 15th precinct, parked her vehicle and entered the
building. She held a briefcase and a used wet wipe in one hand
and a lit cigarette in the other.  She was breathing heavily.
Putting down the case against a trash can, she balled up the wet
wipe and dropped it into the waste container. Then she took a
cell phone from her handbag and punched a number.

"Hello, Mario?" she spoke into the phone.  "Yeah, I'm at the 15th
now, getting ready to interview Crowley and Dias. Well, it
was...interesting. I think she really needs to see a department
shrink. We'll have to schedule her again, because I didn't get
enough. I can't go into it over the phone, but it was one of the
scariest things I've seen. Haven't been the same since. I'll tell
you about it later this afternoon."

She walked over to an ashcan and put out the cigarette butt.

"What?  Oh, no, I can't fucking believe it! Why don't you tell
him to kiss your ass?  But I don't WANT to interview Davenport
alone!  YOU'RE the one with all the connections down there. I
think there might be something funny going on with her too. I
think a nurse at the hospital saw her visiting with his lawyer
yesterday. I don't care, there's no way I can ... sigh.  All
right, all right.  I'll meet you at Roxy's and brief you there. 
About sevenish?  Sure."

She put the phone between her neck and her ear as she dug in her
handbag. 

"Oh, and Mario? Can we talk about two nights ago?  Yeah, me too.
I just have to have someone to talk to about it.  Yeah, OK, so
maybe it IS a woman thing. I've just been feeling so ... yeah,
kind of like that, but today it's been especially bad. So be sure
you remember to BRING me something tonight to make up for it. 
hehe.  Yeah, that would work just fine.  Oooh, that sounds great.
Well, listn, I've got to go. Tell Phil to get someone else to do
it next time. You need to remind him who's boss.  Damn right,
Mister and don't you forget it. Bye. See you tonight."

She smiled as she lit another cigarette and proceeded into the
precinct.

"First of all, let me thank you two for taking the time for this
today," Amanda Tuck was glancing through a file as she spoke, "I
realize you both filed reports and have been over this several
times with your immediate superior, but there seem to be
some...discrepancies between your statements and some of the
physical evidence in this case."

Officers Crowley and Dias were sitting on the opposite end of the
table, spending most of their time looking at the clock on the
wall or their watches or the large mirror on the far wall -
everywhere except in the general direction of Amanda Tuck.

"Mostly, I'm interested in the 15 minutes between the time that
the suspect announced through the wire that he was going to
introduce Officer Hooper to...a "Mr. Chuckles" and the time that
the two of you arrived on the crime scene.  According to your
reports, you said you spent that time trying to ascertain the
exact location of Officer Hooper.  I find that difficult to
believe, considering that your car was stationed only two blocks
away."

Dias looked at Crowley. Crowley looked at Dias. They both looked
at their watches.  Again.

Amanda Tuck sighed. "OK, guys. I'm going to go off the record
here.  Your lieutenant is convinced there's no reason to bring IA
into this, but I'm not so sure. And the Chief and the DA are
going to pay more attention to me than they will to your boss. 
We already know that this surveillance tape is already all over
this precinct and probably a few others by now. Hell, I've even
heard it a few times myself."

Both Crowley and Dias tried to hide their smiles at that, but
Tuck was having none of it.  She reorganized the files in front
of her and frowned.

"This is certainly NOT funny, Officers. A police officer has been
raped here."

Crowley looked at her peculiarly. "Have you talked with Sally
yet?"

"Yes, this morning, in fact."

He shrugged.  "Well, yesterday she told us she wasn't going to
press charges."

Tuck stopped shuffling and looked up, surprised.  "Uh, she didn't
mention it to me this morning.  And, that's beside the point, in
any case.  It's not her decision once it's been reported and
filed."

Dias clasped his hand together on the table.  "In fact, she told
us the punk did her a favor.  Something about giving her
something to live for."

Tuck bent one of the files over in half as she stood up abruptly
and turned towards the mirror.  "She's not ... well.  I see it
all the time in these kinds of sexual assaults."

Crowley looked at Dias nonchalantly.  "She seemed fine yesterday.
 Better than I've ever seen her, really.  And the wife and I have
known her quite a while."

Dias nodded.  "Yep. She even said something about closure and
going to visit the punk in the hospital..."

Tuck's face went from red to white as she suddenly turned to the
pair.  "What the hell...?  Did you try and stop her?"

They both shrugged at once.

"Why? Asked Dias. "The guy's in a coma.  Hell, Gilbert and I even
went down there to get one last look at him before he croaks."

Tuck threw the folder down on the desk.  "Has the whole fucking
department gone crazy?! Am I the only one who thinks this guy is
still dangerous?  The nurse told me he could come out of it at
any time."

Crowley looked at her suspiciously.  "When did you hear that?"

Tuck reached for her handbag. "Just this morning.  Why?"

Dias leaned back in his chair. "You mean you went to see him
too?"

"Sure. Part of the investigation.  I had to talk to his lawyer."
She sat back down and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the bag.

Dias leaned over the table, his voice lowering to almost a
whisper. "How was he?"

Tuck drew out a cigarette and passed it between her fingers
nervously.  "What do you mean?"

Crowley answered with another question.  "Was he still pale? 
Breathing regularly?"

Tuck put the fag in her mouth, but her eyes were scanning the
room and settled on the "No Smoking" sign.  "Yeah, I guess.  Why
the hell do you care?"

Crowley leaned back in his chair and half-smiled, as if
embarrassed.  "Well, we...kinda...well, we owe him, is what it
is."

Dias grabbed a lighter from his pocket and leaned over the table.
 "It's OK, Tuck.  We ain't gonna say anything," he whispered as
he lit her cigarette.  "We can see now we're all on the same side
here."

Tuck took a long, first drag and exhaled into the air in the
general direction of the "No Smoking" sign. "I don't know if I
like the direction this is going, guys. Are you actually telling
me that you somehow have come to like this guy?"

The two of them looked at each other sideways and smiled
knowingly, as if sharing an untold secret.  "Well," Dias replied,
"there are times when we start remembering things we forgot.
Kinda like a dream, but real."

Crowley continued.  "Like when we went to see him yesterday.
Suddenly we start remembering all sorts of really great stuff
that happened we didn't know about before."

Tuck rolled her eyes, but took another long drag and nodded. 
"OK, like what?"

Crowley's face went red.  "Well, it's not something I'd normally
talk about, but I kinda feel OK with you, seeing as how you've
seen him, you know?"

At that, she put her lips tightly around the cigarette and
nodded, her shoes shuffling uncomfortably underneath the table.

"Well," Crowley started, "for one thing, I remember something
that happened in the squad car on the way to the station.  It
seemed almost like a dream, but when I mentioned it to Sally on
the phone last night she said she couldn't stop thinking about it
either..."

Tuck took another drag, and stretched out, massaging her neck
with her left hand before dropping it back beneath the table. 
"So, how do you know it wasn't just a bad dream?"

"Well, Crowley half-smiled, his face turning redder as he tapped
his hands under the table.  "Well, for one thing, I wouldn't call
it a BAD dream.  And it's kinda funny that Sally and I would have
the same exact dream."

"OK, we'll assume it wasn't a dream, then.  What was it and why
haven't you put it in your report?" she said, rolling the smoke
around to the corner of her mouth. 

His hands stopped tapping and he smiled broadly.  "Well, it's not
something the department would find very professional. And I
don't want to get Sally in any trouble."

"Hmmmmm," Tuck managed, taking the cigarette out and grinding it
down into a part of the table.  "I can't believe what I'm
hearing, Officer Crowley.  You mean to tell me that you and
Officer Hooper had sex AFTER she was raped?"

"Well, not really," he said, the smile still there. "Well, not
like REAL sex if you know what I mean."

She fiddled with her handbag, managing to get it open with one
hand. "No, I don't know what you mean, Officer Crowley.  Why
don't you try and explain it to me?"

Dias leaned over the table and reached for her handbag. "Here,
Miss Tuck, allow me," he said, retrieving the pack of cigarettes
and drawing one out.

"Thank you, Sergeant.  Now, Officer Crowley, please continue,"
she said as Dias handed her the cigarette.

"Well," he started as she put the unlit cigarette in her mouth,
"this punk was handing us the line about Sally saying she thought
I was too old to...well, you know if you've heard the tape. Then
the next thing I know, she's leaning over in the seat and...well,
unzipping me."

At that, Tuck shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "OK, Officer
Crowley, let me see if I get this straight.  You're telling me
that on the way back from the scene of the rape, Officer
Hooper..."

"Sally," Crowley interrupted.  Her name is Sally."

Tuck gave a long sigh, but the smoke stayed put.  "OK, whatever.
Now, you're telling me that on the way back from the crime scene,
Sally Hooper fellated you?"

"Well, yes and no," he replied, his left hand moving from below
the table to loosen his tie.

"What do you mean, 'yes and no'?" she asked, her right hand
moving up to scratch her nose.

"It wasn't just a blow job, Miss Tuck, it was the BEST damned
blow job I've EVER had."

Tuck bit her upper lip unconsciously during the moment of silence
that followed. Dias leaned over the table with his lighter. She
waved him off, taking the cigarette from her mouth and holding it
in her right hand as she wiped her forehead.

"This is very disturbing" she said finally.  "Does your
lieutenant know about this?"

"No," Dias answered. At least, I don't THINK so."

She looked at him with puzzlement. "What do you mean?" she asked
as she put the unlit cigarette back in her mouth.

Gilbert interjected.  "He means, we didn't tell her, but she went
and saw him yesterday too."

Her mouth dropped open, but the cigarette stayed put.  "I guess I
ought to be surprised, but I think I'm beyond that now."

"Hey," Dias said, "I guess she wanted to see if he could help her
remember too.  After all the attitude he gave her in the box that
night..."

At that, Gilbert Crowley broke into a halting chuckle.  "hehe,
don't you mean...the shit he gave ALL of us in the box...that
night?"

The two men looked at each other as if sharing a private,
unspoken joke.  Tuck was shaking her head back and forth and
moving the cigarette around in her mouth.  "OK, guys, what's so
funny about that night in the box."

Dias, the sly smile still on his face, started. "Well, we'd just
gotten him booked and fingerprinted and got him in the box to
start the interrogation.  I don't know how, but it got back to
the two-way mirror and this guy'd obviously seen enough cop shows
to know what it was all about."

Dias turned to Gilbert to continue, but Gilbert gave a small sigh
and shook his head for Dias to continue.  "So, he asks who's on
the other side of the window and we tell him it was our
lieutenant.  Then he makes this crack about how she got her job,
and suddenly she busts into the room and shows him who's boss."

Gilbert was breathing deeply now.  "Heh, then...well, yeah...she
showed us ALL who's boss."

Tuck shifted again in her chair.  "What...the hell are
you...talking about, Officer...Crowley" she said slowly and
haltingly.

"Oh, Geez," he started. I...don't think I can...well," he
mumbled, glancing at Dias. "He can tell it...better."

"Well," Dias smiled, looking intently at Amanda Tuck.  He started
softly, but deliberately, as if choosing his words very
carefully. "She came bursting in the room, yelling at us and
bitching at us about how we were screwing up the interrogation."

Crowley had his eyes closed now, but was nodding along with his
Sergeant, his body rocking back and forth in his chair.

"Then she told us how we weren't worthy of conducting an
investigation.  Not worthy of being in the same room as her.  Not
being in the same planet as her."

"So," Amanda Tuck interrupted.  "You're telling me that, that
your...superior dressed you down...in front of...a suspect."  The
cigarette was close to falling out of her mouth now.

"No, Amanda," he continued slowly, smiling almost maniacally now,
his voice lowering to a soft staccato and his eyes locked on
hers, "I'm telling you that, in the matter of a few minutes, she
had Gilbert there chewing on her clittie while I was cleaning her
asshole with my tongue."

The cigarette fell to the table, but none of three could hear it,
because at precisely that moment, Officer Gilbert Crowley let out
a loud moan.  "Fuck!" he exclaimed, as his feet stamped down on
the floor in rapid succession.  Amanda Tuck's hands suddenly rose
and started shuffling quickly through the files as she tried
unsuccessfully to gather them all together.

And at precisely that time, a very large bundle of black energy
burst into the room as naturally as if she'd been doing it all
her life. 

"Damn you two, can't you little fucks do ANYTHING right?!!" the
lieutenant yelled as she placed one very large black hand on the
left shoulder of one Amanda Tuck.  The other one went straight to
the white woman's left wrist as she grabbed it, brought the
attached hand up to her flaring nostrils and breathed deeply.

"Just like a white woman to beat around the bush in my
interrogation room!" Then she pointed at Crowley, who was busy
wiping himself on his uniform.  "I expect it from these clowns,
but not from a REAL detective!"

Then she bent down and lowered her face directly into the face of
the shocked Amanda Tuck. Her hand still gripping the smaller
woman's wrist, she led it back down under the table and guided it
back to where it had been just moments ago.

"Let me tell you how it REALLY went down, Missus White Cunt. This
little hoodlum Bandan is the absolute BEST pussy licker I've ever
met and I've had more than my share of 'em. You can play with
yourself all you want, but you ain't NEVER gonna have a cum like
you'll get from him."

She removed her hand from Amanda's shoulder and wrapped it around
the stunned woman's face as she drew her lips closer. "He's like
a fucking God, you see - he gives you whatever the hell you want
and some things you don't even KNOW you want."

Her hand guided the woman's face towards Crowley and Dias as she
whispered in her ear.  "Take little shit Dias over there. He's
known he's a faggot since he was a kid but it took Bandan to get
him to finally come clean."

The big woman's hand came from beneath the table.  Tuck's did
not. As she continued whispering, the black amazon grabbed
Amanda's handbag and dropped it in her lap. "And Crowley's wife
has never been happier now that the little fuck can finally get
it up and keep it up."  

The lieutenant moved behind the white woman and gently caressed
her neck as she continued in the same low, but threatening tone.
"And me? Well, I got two or three young things back home that
just LOVE it when I play rough."

She bent down further and nibbled on Amanda's ear and her hands
closed slowly around her neck. "Do YOU want me to play rough,
Little Missus White Cunt?"

Amanda mumbled something inaudible and the black woman's hands
moved roughly down her neck and over the smaller woman's breasts,
and squeezed hard. 

"Because if you ever, and I mean EVER decide to come after him,
I'm gonna come down on you so fucking hard that you're going to
be crying out my name in the middle of the night for the rest of
your miserable life."

Then she breathed heavily on Amanda's neck and licked her right
ear lobe. "Do we understand one another, LIttle Missus White Cunt
detective?" she whispered.

Amanda could do nothing but moan softly and nod. 

The large woman threw both of her arms around Amanda from behind
and lifted her out of the chair, managing to grab the handbag
with two fingers.  Amanda's left hand was pinned underneath her
pants and was still moving slowly, which drew a chuckle from both
Dias and Crowley.  The lieutenant carried Tuck to the door and
let her down just inside it. As she did, she whispered aparting.

"Now, get the hell out of my precinct and if I ever see you
again, it damn well better be on your fucking knees."

Amanda hurried down the corridor, out of the building and out
into the parking lot as fast as she could walk. Fumbling through
her handbag, she managed to get out her keys only to drop them on
the pavement.  Bending down to pick them up, she noticed two
uniformed precinct officers staring at her.  Standing back up,
she adjusted her pants and hurriedly opened the car door and
threw herself into the driver's seat.  Digging around under the
seat for the open carton of cigarettes and finally finding it,
she ripped open a pack and put one in her mouth as she pushed in
the lighter knob.  Then she grabbed her phone out of the handbag
and pressed a button. 

"Damn!  C'mon, Mario?! Fucking voice mail!! Jesus, Mario, pick up
the fucking phone! Fuck. Sorry about that, Mario.  Can't fucking
believe you're still in that goddamn meeting! Shit!  Sorry about
the profanity, but I just fucking got my life threatened!  Hurry
up and call me back!  Please!"

She pressed another button on the phone, then threw it against
the far door of the Grand Am. Grabbing for the lighter knob, she
pulled it out and pressed it to the end of the cigarette. Taking
a first, long drag, she leaned back in the seat and took several
more deep breaths. Then she reached to put the lighter knob back
in and missed the hole, sending the knob falling to the
floorboard.  "Oh, fuck it," she whispered under her breath and
left the knob where it lay.

Then Amanda closed her eyes and tried her best to relax.  Moments
later, she started the ignition, turned on the AC and cracked a
window. Looking around for the phone, she found it and placed it
gently on the passenger side seat.  Glancing around to take in
her surroundings, she slowly moved the cigarette around with her
right hand and her left hand fell to her lap.  And she waited.

Two minutes later, her right eye opened a tiny bit and stared at
the tape deck. Then her right arm reached out and hit the PLAY
button.

The silence of the garage was broken by the unmistakable sound of
a woman at the height of sexual arousal.

Immediately, both her eyes shot open and both hands went to the
tape deck volume controls. Finding the knob, she instinctively
turned it.

The wrong way.

The cigarette fell from her mouth as she moved closer to the tape
deck, quickly punching the STOP button.  She instinctively leaned
up in the seat, throwing her head from side to side to get a
quick glance around the parking level.  As far as she could tell,
she was alone.

Taking a heavy sigh, she leaned back into her seat.  Then she
jumped again as she felt the heat of the cigarette on her thigh.

"Shit!" she yelled as she moved quickly towards the passenger
side of the Grand Am, brushing the fag away with her left hand.
It rolled off her pants leg onto the seat, then finally onto the
floorboard, where she quickly stomped on it with her left foot.

"Damn, you, Amanda!" she hissed to no one in particular, as she
collapsed into the passenger seat, her left leg still draped over
the driver's seat. She stayed there for almost five minutes,
doing nothing but inhaling and exhaling the smoky air. And
staring at the tape deck.

Then she lit another cigarette.

And reached for the controls of the tape deck.

And waited.

Two cigarettes later, she was still waiting. She looked at her
watch. 4pm. She adjusted the waistband of her pants, took some
wet wipes from the glove compartment and washed her hands. Then
she turned off the tape deck.  Pausing for a few more moments to
catch her breath, she picked up the phone and punched the button
again. 

"Damn it, Mario, where the hell are you?  Hurry up and call back.
Please.  I NEED YOU!  Now!  I'm not even going to try and find
and interview Davenport.  But if I don't hear from you in the
next ten minutes, I'm going to go down there and track YOU down.
So please, PLEASE get back to me ASAP!  TEN minutes!"

Putting the phone back on the passenger seat, she lit another
cigarette and stared at the tape deck.

Five minutes later, Amanda's Grand Am roared out of the parking
lot of the 15th precinct garage and headed downtown.


Fifteen minutes later, Amanda rushed into the lobby of Police
Headquarters, pushed a button on the elevators and waited.  For
countless seconds, she shifted uncomfortably, fiddled with her
handbag and finally pushed the button again. Cursing under her
breath, she walked quickly to the stairwell.  Pushing the door
open, she entered the landing, stopped for a second andlistened.

Slowly, her right hand reached into her handbag as her left went
down and rubbed slowly on the outside of her pants, up and down
her leg, finally reaching her crotch.  She pulled a cigarette
from her bag and stuffed it in her mouth as she continued to rub
her fingers up and down between her legs.  Breathing deeply, she
drew the smoke in and out slowly with her lips as she gripped the
handrail for support.

Suddenly, she heard the door open on the landing above and she
hurriedly pushed her way back through the stairwell door and into
the lobby. Grabbing her phone from her purse, she pushed a
button, the cigarette still hanging from her mouth.

"Damn you, Mario.  Where the hell are you?  I'm at Downtown now.
Please, PLEASE call me back ASAP!  I think I'm going CRAZY!  I
can't even THINK straight anymore!..." Her voice was growing
louder and one of the clerks nearby looked at her pointedly.

Amanda looked up from her phone.  "What the hell are you staring
at?"

"No smoking in the lobby, detective." 

"Look, it's not lit, OK?  Can't you see I'm on the phone here?" 
She walked hurriedly away from the clerk down the hall toward the
cafeteria, pressing the button to cancel the phone call. 

Looking around, she noticed no one in the cafeteria, other than
the cleaning staff.  Adjusting the cigarette in her mouth, she
headed straight to the Ladies Room.  Pushing open the door, she
immediately bent down to check the stalls, only to find all of
them empty. Rushing to the far handicapped stall, she pushed open
the door and threw herself down on the seat, balling her hands up
in fists and bringing them repeatedly to her cheeks.  Wetness
came to her eyes as she muttered over and over to herself. 

"What is happening to you, Amanda Tuck? What the HELL is going
on?"

After a few moments, she grabbed some toilet paper and wiped her
eyes.  Then she drew the phone from her bag and laid it on top of
the paper dispenser. Taking another cigarette from her bag, she
gently ran her tongue around the end of it before placing it
between her lips. Both hands moved to her waistband and she
lowered her pants around her ankles and stepped out of them.
Pulling her panties down, she likewise stepped out of them. 
Bringing them up to her face, she stared at them, her face a
mixture of amazement and disgust.  They were thoroughly soaked.

Wrinkling her nose, she grabbed a handful of toilet paper,
wrapped up the panties and placed them into her bag, only to let
out a sigh when she saw the paper slowly disintegrate into a
pulpy mess inside the bag. Then she fell back on the seat and the
tears began anew.

Then again, slowly, but deliberately, her left hand fell down
into her lap and her sobbing fell quiet, replaced by another
sound. Her right hand went to the cigarette and caressed it,
sliding it in and out of her mouth. She began breathing deeply
and unsteadily and her flats slid quietly back and forth across
the tile floor as her body's wetness caused her to slide to and
fro on the coldness of the toilet seat. 

Then she began to hum.  Softly at first, then a bit louder.  She
somehow recalled the tune, but couldn't remember from where,
exactly.  It was a quick little tune, strangely suited for the
job at hand, and relaxing.

And exciting.  Very exciting.

Quickly - she began to move more quickly. Now her right hand
joined her left, holding open the gates, allowing the fingers to
work their magic on the treasure inside. Her tongue moved the fag
back and forth in her mouth, keeping time with the rhythm of that
magic tune she was humming.  And maybe the end was near.  Could
it be near?  She prayed for the end.

Then the restroom door opened. 

Instinctively, as if from another lifetime, both her feet rose
from the floor to the sides of the door to the stall and froze
there, like a statue carved by an obscene artist, as two familiar
voices entered the room.  The cigarette snapped to attention in
her mouth as she went deadly silent.

But her hands did not stop.  Could not stop.

The rhythm was still in her head.  And it was strong.

"So where are you and Fernando going tonight?"

Then she started remembering.

"I think he wants to stay at home and watch basketball.  Playoffs
or something."

The words.

"Right.  That figures."

There were words to go with the rhythm.

"Hey, you smell what I smell?" One of the voices started
giggling.

She'd heard them once in a movie.

"I guess one of the cleaning ladies couldn't wait to get home." 
More giggling.

A cartoon movie?

"I always wondered what they did after hours.  Makes me wonder
what else they do in these things when there's no one around."

She started remembering the words.

"Ewww, like I needed to think about that."

And her fingers moved faster as she remembered.

"You'd have thought they'd at least spray some of that air
freshener around after they'd finished."

Something about a merry-go-round?

"Unless they get off on having other people know what they're
doing in here."

More giggling.

Yes, a merry-go-round...

"I mean, you're a cop, think about it.  It's not even 5 yet. If
the smell is fresh, that means that they'd just been in here."

...breaking down...

"Or..."

Moving faster. The rhythm moving faster.

"No."

Fingers moving faster.

"You can check, if you want to. I'M not gonna check. 

More giggles.

So close. So close.

 From the top of the nearby toilet paper dispenser, the cell
phone rang.  Loudly.

"What the hell??!!!" Came a loud voice from outside the stall. 

Startled, Amanda blindly reached for the phone, only to have it
slip from her hand, fall to the floor and bounce on the tile
floor just outside the stall. Quickly, she grabbed the waist of
her pants and pulled them up just as a hand reached down outside
the stall to recover the phone.  Madly, Amanda pulled the stall
door open and rushed past two very surprised uniformed
policewomen, one of whom was holding her phone. 

"Tuck?" asked one of them, bewildered, and tears began refilling
Amanda's eyes as she threw open the restroom door and disappeared
outside.  Behind her, Officers Karech and Mayo stared at each
other with shocked expressions. 

Through the cafeteria she ran, oblivious to the stares of the
cleaning crew and assorted clerks straightening up their work
areas as they got ready to leave for the day.  She raced through
the lobby, and into the parking lot and didn't stop running until
she was at the driver's door to her Grand Am.  She reached for
the door handle and pulled with all her strength. When it didn't
budge, she reached for her handbag...

...which still lay on the restroom floor.

Then Amanda bent over the hood of her Grand Am and wept.

Which is how Assistant District Attorney Bailey Davenport found
her five minutes later. 

"Detective Tuck?"  Came the voice, and Amanda felt a hand on her
shoulder.

"No," she replied at first, sobbing, with both hand covering her
face.  "I mean, yes," she corrected herself, trying her best to
wipe away the tears.

"What's the matter? You're shaking all over. Are you sick?" 
Davenport moved her hand from Amanda's shoulder to the back of
her neck.  

Amanda pulled away and brought her hand up to her neck in an
effort to brush the other woman's hand away.  "No. 
Just...stress."  She continued to rub her eyes with the one hand
and stare down at the hood of her car.

Davenport gently clasped her hand and didn't let go.  "I don't
know, girl.  You really look like you're in bad shape.  You sure
you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"Maybe.  I mean NO!"  She pounded on the hood with her free hand.
 "I'll be...fine, really.  Just need to see...Mario."

The DA slid her other hand up and down Amanda's arm as she
grabbed her hand, preventing another slam against the hood.  "I
saw Detective Lopez leave about an hour ago with Captain Delgado.
 Something about a meeting with Tammy Spencer about the Baines
case.  I thought he was going to interview me, so I hung around.
But he said you were going to do it, so I waited."

Good Lord, girlfriend, you're soaking wet!"  She continued as she
held both of Amanda's hands in hers and gently spun her around to
face her.  You SURE you don't NEED to go to the hospital?"

"Yes...  NO!" Again the older woman pulled away.  "I
just...wan't...Mario."  She raised both her hands to her head and
leaned back against the hood of the Grand Am. 

Davenport bit her lower lip as she moved closer.  "Well, I don't
think he's coming back anytime soon.  Delgado looked fairly set
on getting some movement in the case by tonight. Sounded to me
like they wanted to do a full session.  I know Harry, err, DA
Fredricks has them both under the gun here."

Amanda moved her hands down to the hood and pressed her
fingertips hard against the paint. "Damn" she whispered under her
breath as her legs tensed straight and her nails bit into the
finish, "we were supposed to meet at Roxy's for dinner," her
voice growling louder with every word.

Davenport moved even closer.  "No reason to think he won't,
though he'll certainly be late. She reached into her large purse
and pulled out Amanda's handbag. "I ran into Officer Mayo a few
minutes ago and she said you left this in the restroom. I figured
you might need it."

Amanda's eyes brightened a bit at that as she reached out and
snatched it out of the woman's hands.  "The phone!  Did she give
you the phone?"  Amanda was digging through it furiously now. 

Davenport shrugged.  "No.  Was she supposed to?"  She moved to
Amanda's side and likewise leaned back on the hood of the car,
watching the other woman intently.

"Damn!" Amanda shouted, and ripped the sides of the bag as she
pulled.  "Fuck!" 

Davenport wrapped her arm around the distraught woman and pulled
her close.  "Settle down, girlfriend, it's not the end of the
world."

"But you don't fucking UNDERSTAND!" Amanda swore as she ripped
the bag totally open now and its contents flew here and there
about the two women, scattering in a wide circle around the Grand
Am.

Davenport brought her hand up to the other woman's face and
gripped it tightly as she again grabbed for her hands.  "Settle
DOWN, Amanda!  You're a police officer, dammit! Act like one!"

The older woman froze at that, then her legs softened and she
leaned back on the car once again, her arms falling to her sides
and dropping the remains of the handbag, and her chest heaving
once, then relaxing.  She closed her eyes. 

"Good," Davenport continued, leaning down to pick up the pack of
cigarettes.  She pulled one out and handed it to Amanda. "Now,
listen.  You're in no condition to drive, but my car's right over
there.  I've got nothing planned tonight, so I can drive you over
to Roxy's and we'll wait for Detective Lopez together.  Hell, you
can do the damned interview there if you want."

Amanda brought her hands back to her face at that, her breaths
becoming more and more steady. She put the cigarette in her
mouth, but did not light it. "Ok," she said, finally. "I just
need to find a phone." She looked around at the contents of her
handbag and began to gather them up.

"Good." Davenport replied.  "The last thing we need right now is
for you to get into a wreck. You can use my car phone," she
finished as she bent down to help Amanda retrieve the rest of her
things.  She was just about to stand up when she noticed the
panties lying underneath the car, near the rear tire.  Quietly,
she grabbed them and stuffed them in the pocket of her suit. 

Five minutes later, the two were safely inside Davenport's BMW
convertible, driving down the freeway.  Amanda was fiddling with
the phone and moving the still unlit cigarette around in her
mouth.  She frowned noticeably.

"What's wrong?  Davenport looked over at her, her cinnamon hair
flowing freely in the rush of air.

"I can't remember the damned number."

Davenport laughed.  "Had it on speed dial, eh?  I do that all the
time."  She reached over and put a hand on the woman's shoulder.
"I THINK I might have it at home.  We're not far from my
townhouse right now.  It'll only take a few minutes for me to
track it down."

"I thought you lived out in Village Oaks?" 

The DA smiled playfully. "That's my official address, yes. But a
girl needs a getaway every now and then, so I have another place
I use. Makes my life a bit less ... complicated."

A few moments later, the BMW pulled into the Fairfield Townhomes
parking lot and into the garage of #169.

"Hey, Liz!" Davenport yelled as she opened the door.  "Are you
decent?  We've got a visitor."

Behind her, Amanda slowly let her eyes get adjusted to the low
light. She found herself reaching for her handbag, but found the
plastic grocery bag instead. She instinctively pulled out a
cigarette and put it in her mouth.

"Yeah, right, like I'm EVER decent," came the response from
somewhere upstairs.  Davenport smirked a bit at that and flipped
a light switch.  Amanda noticed that the DA didn't take off her
sunglasses even in the dark, but knew her way around the
apartment seemingly by instinct. 

"Why don't you come down here and fix Detective Tuck a drink
while I look for something?  She's had a really bad day and
really needs one,"  Davenport continued as she walked into the
living area, beckoning silently for Amanda to follow.

"It's my OFF day, dufus!" came the reply as a shortish, buxom
woman with short jet black hair slid down the stairs. She was
dressed in a Hooters shirt and cutoff jeans.  "Hey, hey, what do
we have here?" she said when she spied Amanda. "Dufus, didn't
they tell you not to look for love on the job?  Just asking for
trouble." 

Davenport lowered her sunglasses at that and the newcomer's face
suddenly went red and she started playing with the bottom of her
shirt. "Sorry," she mumbled under her breath.

Bailey took her glasses all the way off, sat down on a chair near
her phone and picked up a small black book. "Why don't you be a
dear, Liz, and fix her up one of your specials?" she asked, but
in a tone that sounded more to Amanda like an order.  Then she
turned to Amanda, who had a seat on the couch and continued to
flip through the book.

"She makes THE best 'Screaming Orgasms' in the city," Davenport
said, dryly.

Amanda, who had been studying the decor, bit her lower lip and
the cigarette almost fell from her mouth.  She swiftly crossed
her legs and brought both hands to her knee and rubbed it hard
through her pants. And she started sweating. Again.

"Hokay," replied Liz as she walked up to the bar. "One 'Screaming
Orgasm,' it is."

Amanda crossed her legs the other way and pushed herself further
down on the soft sofa and she wrapped both hands around her
abdomen and hugged herself.  Davenport looked up from her book.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Amanda, did you need a light?"

Amanda took a very short breath and shook her head. "No."  She
crossed her legs again.

"OK," Davenport said as she continued to look at the detective,
who was now rubbing her elbows nervously with the opposing hands.
 "Are you cold?"

"uh, no.  I'm fine," Amanda replied as she forced a smile and
resumed her observations of the surroundings. 

Davenport smiled in return.  "If you decide to talk, Liz and I
are GREAT listeners."

Amanda's foot started shaking rapidly.  "Uh, no. I'll be fine."

Liz bounded up with two liquor glasses.  "Here we go, two
'Screaming Orgasms.'  If they don't cure your problems, nothing
will."

Suddenly both hands went up to Amanda's face and she started
rubbing her eyes again, trying to hold back the tears. Above her,
Liz looked bewildered, still holding both glasses.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Davenport dropped the book and moved over to the sofa and sat
down next to the woman, who was now sobbing uncontrollably. Liz,
after carefully placing the drinks on the inn table, sat down on
the opposite side.

Both women put their arms gently around Amanda.  "Oh, dear," Liz
whispered softly. "it's THAT kind of problem, isn't it?  Now I
feel REALLY awful."

"Never," Amanda started whispering.  "Never ever, ever," she kept
repeating through the tears. "Never a problem before." 

Bailey got up to get a box of tissues while Liz continued to hold
her body close to the crying woman, slowly and gently rocking her
back and forth, occasionally massaging her face and working to
keep the hair from her eyes.  After a few moments, the tears
lessened and Bailey handed the tissues to Liz, who slowly dabbed
the wetness from Amanda's eyes.

As well as from her own.

Then Bailey handed the drinks to Amanda.  In less than a minute,
both were empty save for a few lonely ice cubes.

While Amanda was drinking, Liz drew Bailey aside.

"What the hell is going on here, Dufus?" she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, take a fucking sniff.  You know that smell as well as I
do. She's crying her eyes out, but she's practically soaking your
sofa."

"So?"

"So?!!! Is that all you can say?  Something's really wrong here.
The woman needs to go to a hospital."

"I asked. Twice. She doesn't want to go. I can't force her."

"So what are you going to do?"

"She's got a hot date tonight.  I figure the problem might just
take care of itself."

"Bailey, I dunno if I like the way you said that.  This isn't
like you."

"Believe me, there's nothing I'd like MORE than to get her to go
to the hospital, but until then, I thought we could humor her.
Maybe get her fixed up and dressed up nicely.  She's about your
size."

"Geez, thanks.  Maybe a year ago."

"Well, you've still got some sexy dresses from back then.  I
thought maybe that emerald one you wore when you weredancing..."

"Geez, that would make her look forty trying for twenty.  I
dunno."

"Then why don't you take her upstairs and see what she thinks? 
And work on her hair and makeup while you're at it.  She looks
like she's had absolutely no experience at all."

"What the hell, Dufus, is this her date or YOUR date?"

"Listen, do you want to help her get laid or not?"

"Look, it's only for a fucking GUY, right?  Hell, all she has to
do is smile and drop her pants."

"Oh, yeah, like YOU'D know?"

"OK, so she doesn't even have to smile."

"Hey," a voice interjected from across the room. "I'm not deaf,
you know."

Liz walked quickly back to the sofa.  "Sorry 'bout that.  You
know these law enforcement types and secrecy.  Feeling better?"

Amanda forced a smile and nodded. "Thanks for the drinks, Liz.
And everything else.  And, no, I don't need to go to the
hospital."

Bailey crouched down to her knees at the inn table and smiled
back at her.  "I can't find his cell phone number in my book,
only his home and office number.  But, I might have it on the
computer.  Why don't you let Liz here take you upstairs and get
you cleaned up. That outfit is fine for work, but I'm sure that
after all this trouble, you want to look your best for him,
right?"

Amanda looked down at her pants and then at her sweat-soaked
blouse for a moment, then finally nodded. "A bath, if nothing
else. This has been one fucked-up day. If menopause is half this
bad, I think I'd rather kill myself."

Liz laughed.  "And guys think they have it tough because they get
guts and lose hair. C'mon, big sister, let's go upstairs and see
what kind of damage we can do." 

As she watched the two of them climb the stairs, Bailey Davenport
walked over to her sofa and bent down.  After running one hand
across the wet spot, she brought it up to her nose and breathed.
She grimaced, then shook her head slightly, then smiled as she
stood up.  Then she took the pair of panties from her pocket,
stared at them for a moment, then likewise brought them to her
nose and breathed. Then she sighed deeply once and muttered to
herself.

"Damn you.  Damn you to hell, Bailey Davenport."

As she moved to the computer and turned it on, she heard the
familiar sound of bath water being run upstairs.

Then she heard an unfamiliar sound. A low, ringing noise.

Coming from her purse.

Again, drawing a long, deep sigh, she drew the cell phone from
her purse and hit the "OFF" button.  At once, the ringing
stopped.

Then she threw the phone into the waste basket next to the
computer and immediately felt the now-familiar rush.

Turning the computer off, she went to the sofa to have a
screaming orgasm of her own. 
*************

"So, what do you think?" Amanda said as she stared into the
mirror and tugged at the top of the towel she had draped around
her.

"I think you look great."

"Oh, c'mon."

"No, really, you look ten years younger."

"Oh, be serious."

"I AM serious, girlfriend. Believe me, I KNOW when a girl looks
great."  Bailey Davenport was standing behind the sitting woman,
pulling Amanda's black hair back, running a brush through it,
then letting it fall loosely about her neck.  She gently leaned
forward and whispered.

"You look HOT. Believe me, he's going to be SO happy to see the
new you."

Amanda bit her freshly painted lower lip as she gazed into the
mirror and took a deep breath.  Her cheeks were red, and her eyes
seemed so much...larger than before.  "I've not had this much
make-up on since I was a kid. Never was any good at it."

"Well," came a voice from the doorway, "that's what we're here
for."  Liz was carrying a serving tray with three tall, thin
glasses and a bottle of champagne.  Bailey smiled as she handed
the brush to Amanda.

"I was just telling her she looks twenty-two again."

"The hell with that," the shorter woman said as she put the tray
down and started to uncap the bottle, "she looks like she's back
in high school."

"Oh, STOP it, you two," Amanda replied as she fiddled with the
brush.  Then she looked up at Liz as she struggled with the
bottle and her eyes widened.  "That's not Dom, is it?"

Bailey shrugged as she took the bottle from Liz.  "I've had it in
the cooler forever.  Figured this was as good a time as any." 
She drew the wire off and the bottle opened with a loud pop,
liquid and bubbles pouring from the open top.  Some of it spilled
on her arm as she moved it quickly over the three bottles on the
tray and began to pour.  Liz giggled.

"Smooth move, Ex-Lax.  Hell, I could've done that."

"Yeah, yeah," the taller one shot back as she finished pouring. 
"I bet you shook it on the way up just because."

Amanda looked in the mirror again and half-smiled as she started
brushing her hair.  "I think it's you two who are back in high
school." 

Bailey smiled and looked sideways at Liz as she handed Amanda one
of the glasses.  "I'm serious, here, don't you think she looks
fifteen years younger?"

"You betcha," came the reply as Liz took a sip. "Wait 'till she
gets in that dress.  She'll need bodyguards..."

Amanda started to take a sip as Liz continued. "...and that's
just to keep ME off her."

Amanda snorted loudly as the bubbles came back up through her
nose.  Bailey frowned and put her hand on the smaller woman's
shoulder forcefully as she headed towards the bathroom door,
pulling Liz behind her.

"Amanda, if you'll excuse us, I need to get this cleaned up,"
Bailey said, as she lifted her wet arm and glanced at it.  Liz
was still giggling and sipping as she was dragged out of the room
by her Hooters shirt.

As the door closed, Amanda finished her glass and began brushing
her hair, staring wistfully at her reflection and humming a
familiar tune...

In the bathroom, Bailey went to the sink and turned on the tap.
"Do you think you can be MORE crude?"

Liz took another sip as she followed her roommate to the sink. 
"Oh, c'mon, Dufus, she's a detective, right? I'm sure she's
figured it out."

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it.  Don't
embarrass her like that."

Liz finished her glass, put it down and grabbed Bailey's arm
gently. "Well, this is going to sound really strange, but I
wasn't joking."

Bailey turned sharply and looked down at her.  She was running
her nose close to the wet spot, breathing in the aroma while
taking in a series of quick breaths.

"What the hell?" Bailey started.

Liz lovingly ran her tongue up her lover's arm, picking up the
nectar and pressing her lips lightly to Bailey's skin as she did,
her brown eyes locked on Bailey's green all the while.  Up, then
down again.  "Don't tell me you can't feel it?"

Bailey turned back towards the mirror above the sink. "I...don't
know what you mean."

Liz continued running her lips up Bailey's arm to her shoulder
and moved her hands up to caress her neck.  "Something is...just
not...right here.  She's..."

"She's...like a bomb ready to go off," she continued in a soft
whisper, her lips now settling on Bailey's neck, nipping at loose
strands of her hair, her fingers sliding around down around her
waist, playing with the waistband of her pantsuit.  "No, maybe
that's not right..."

"More like...I dunno, a battery maybe..." She purred as she
slipped her hand inside the tall woman's pants and flicked her
tongue in her ear. 

"Giving out all that energy..."  Her fingers were exploring
further now, settling on the wetness and pressing slightly.  "I
see you feel it too," she whispered, hungrily.

Bailey suddenly pulled away and took her lover's hand from her
privates and held it.  "I...don't really understand it, either."

Liz's drew Bailey's hand down and into her own shorts.  "It's
weird.  All the time she was taking a bath, she was...playing
with herself..."

Bailey drew a deep breath, but did not pull away as Liz continued
to rub the other woman's fingers against her sex.  "...and
radiating.  I was standing outside the door.  Listening. And
almost fell over.  Couldn't even...stand up."

"You know what...turns me on, Dufus," she whispered as she raised
up to place her lips against her lover's.  "This is sooo
not...like me."

They kissed for a moment, their hands clasped together against
the sex of the smaller woman, until Bailey pulled away.

"No...time for this," she said, finally, as she turned the tap
back on and ran her hands under the water.

"Bitch." 

"Look," Bailey replied, turning off the tap and reaching for the
hand towel, "what the hell do you want me to do?"

"Call her a fucking cab," came the reply as Liz reached out for
her, hesitated, then bit her lip before continuing,  "Or, better
still, give her an invite."

Bailey rolled her eyes and reached for the door. "Oh, yeah,
that's really smart. I can't believe you said that."

Liz reached out and grabbed her arm again.  "I...I can't believe
it either, but it's what I want. I've never had a feeling like
this.  Ever."

Bailey grasped her hand, held it tightly and stared at her
intently.  "Here's what I'm going to do, Liz.  I'm going to go
out there, get her into that dress, and make sure she has the
night of her life.  We can discuss this when I come back."

Liz dropped her hand and folded her arms.  "Well, I guess that's
that then, isn't it?  But, the way I'm feeling right now, don't
be surprised if I'm not here when you come back."

Bailey turned away and started to open the door. "You do what you
have to do, Liz. I've never been able to stop you before."

Suddenly the younger woman moved to block the door shut, quickly
moving under and around Bailey to press her back against it, and
again stared into those green eyes.  Intensely for a second, then
quickly softening to dew point. 

"You want her for yourself, don't you?"

"Now you're just being irrational."  Bailey again reached for the
doorknob. "You know I'm not into that."

"Hell, after that courthouse thing, I'm not sure I know ANYTHING
anymore."  The tears were now starting to show. "I mean, why else
would you bring her here?  Dress her up. And..."

Bailey stopped and brought a hand to her chin, her eyes beginning
to squint and her cheeks tensed up as she cocked her head
slightly to break eye contact.  "Oh, damn it, Liz. Stop this.
Please..."

"...I saw the dress you had laid out, Bailey," and a hand moved
up to wipe the tears. "I can't believe you'd wear that..."

Bailey inhaled sharply and turned back to look at her.  "Is THAT
what this is all about?  Look, I just felt like dressing up
tonight. That's all."

"And the champagne...?"  She was visibly shaking now. "I thought
that bottle was..."

Suddenly, quietly, Bailey interrupted her, moving both hands to
her lover's face, holding it, framing it, lovingly, gently, and
brought it up to look once again into the greenness of her own
eyes, one hand pressing a finger across the young woman's lips.

"OK, OK, Liz, look at me.  I promise you.  I do NOT love that
woman. I am NOT going to have sex with her tonight. I'm not
planning it, and it's not going to happen. Even if I felt that
way, which I don't, she's not mine to take."

Then after a quick moment's hesitation, she pulled them together
and pressed herself close, rubbing one hand gently to and fro
across her back and began humming.  As she continued, Liz slowly
and gradually began trembling, then quietly snickering, then
finally broke out in an extreme case of the giggles as she
returned the hug.

"Geez, Dufus, really?  The 'Looney Tunes' song?  Is that the most
romantic thing you can come up with?"

"Hey, whatever works," came the reply, as she cocked her head
down to passionately and abruptly cut off the giggling with her
lips. 

And, then, for almost two minutes, neither could say anything at
all.

Amanda was holding a green dress in front of her, looking in the
mirror and gently laughing to herself when the bathroom door
opened and the two women emerged.  She immediately turned towards
them, and her expression changed abruptly. 

"Everything OK?  If I'm causing a problem..."

Liz moved quickly to her and smiled.  "No. No. Just the normal,
everyday soap opera stuff. That's the price I pay for living with
superwoman."

Bailey rolled her eyes and reached for the half-empty bottle. She
quickly put it back down, half-smiling at the joke. 

Amanda held the dress up against her and again looked in the
mirror.  "The last thing I want to do is cause trouble.  You two
have been absolutely wonderful to me."

"Don't give it a second thought," Liz replied as she looked down
at the woman's feet.  "The dress will probably work, but I dunno
about the shoes..."

Amanda's eyes fell.  "I have some pumps at home..."

Bailey interrupted.  "I don't think we have time for that, do
we?" Then she turned to Liz before the other woman could answer.
"Liz, you have some old open toes with no backs from your club
days that might work."

"You know, you're right, they just MIGHT," she said as she shot
off to her closet and threw the door open. 

Amanda's eyes went back to the mirror.  "I don't know...  It's
cut awfully high and my thighs aren't nearly what they used to
be."

Bailey stepped between Amanda and the mirror and smiled at her. 
"Oh, stop worrying, they look fine.  Jason keeps the club pretty
dark this time of the evening anyway."

"Well, that's true..."  She said as she fondled the material with
her fingers. 

Liz came back with a pair of transparent pumps.  "Let's see how
these fit."

"Oh Lord," Amanda said when she saw the size of the heals. "No
way I'll be able to walk in those."

"Oh, c'mon," Bailey laughed.  "If I can walk in heals, ANYONE
can."

"I can vouch for that," Liz shot back as she bent down at
Amanda's feet.  "OK, lift 'em girlfriend."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Amanda giggled as she slipped
her foot into one of the shoes. "I feel so..."

"Young," Bailey answered as Amanda slipped her foot into the
other one.

"I was going to say 'slutty,' but 'young' sounds SO much better,"
Amanda laughed as she steadied herself and looked back to the
mirror. "Oh, my."

"How do they feel?"  Liz asked, looking up from around her
ankles. 

"Oh, they FIT, OK, but I don't know..."

Bailey walked behind her and started unwrapping the towel. "Let's
see how they look with the dress, silly."

Amanda took a deep breath and frowned as the towel fell away and
she spied herself in the mirror.  But before she could say
anything, Bailey took the dress and brought it down to her feet
as Liz reached for one of her legs.

"What?"  Amanda looked down.

"Honey," Liz looked up with a smile as she grabbed her leg.
"there are two kinds of dresses - pull down dresses and step-into
dresses.  This is a step-into dress."

Amanda couldn't suppress a giggle as she turned away from the
mirror, lifted her legs to step into the dress and watched as the
two women slowly pulled it up the length of her body.  As she
raised her arms to slip them into the sleeves, Bailey smiled and
whispered in her ear.  "Or a step-out-of dress."

At that, all three women burst into manic fits of giggling.
Bailey reached for the bottle and poured more of it in Amanda's
empty glass, while Liz adjusted the sleeves and nipped and
pinched and tucked to get the gown to lay properly. Amanda held
her hand over her eyes.  "I don't wanna look."

Bailey pried her hand away from her eyes and offered the glass.
Amanda took it and downed it rapidly, then finally drew a heavy
sigh. "OK, ready," she said as she gave Bailey back the glass and
put her hands back over her eyes.

Grabbing her by a shoulder each, Bailey and Liz, still giggling
uncontrollably, turned her towards the mirror and Amanda took the
hands from her eyes.

"Oh, Geez," Amanda exclaimed in all seriousness, as she raised
both hands to her cheeks and pressed. "I don't know whether to
laugh or cry."

"Please, I think we've had enough of both today, don't you?" Liz
smiled as she adjusted Amanda's breasts in the cups of the dress.
 "Seriously, you look GREAT!"

"Oh, please," said Amanda as she ran one hand down the slit in
the side. "you can see EVERYTHING!"  

Bailey leaned over and pulled the woman's hair back over her
shoulders.  "Honey, that's the general IDEA."

"Well, yeah, but not this MUCH of everything!" She frowned,
lifting the gown by the slit and running her hands across the
slight cellulose lines on her thighs.

"Oh, bother," replied Liz as she grabbed the sides of the dress
from Amanda's hands and flattened it back out again.  "no one'll
notice unless you lift it up for them."

"And by that time, he shouldn't CARE..." smiled Bailey as she
began working the hair into a ponytail.

"Is my butt really THAT big?" Amanda continued as she turned to
the side.

"Not as big as some in this room," Bailey whispered dryly in her
ear as she finished putting the hair up.

"You're not the biggest BOOB in the room either," came the reply,
as Liz stuck out her tongue.

Amanda blushed and continued to gaze into the mirror.  "NOW, I
feel like I'm back in high school."

Liz straightened up.  "Honey, trust me, you LOOK like you're back
in high school. "He doesn't stand a chance."

Bailey nodded.  "And you don't look like a Detective Tuck,
either. More like a Mandy."

"Oh, my, I've not been called THAT since high school either," she
smiled giddily, red simply flooding her face as she picked up the
front part of the dress with both hands and started swishing it
back and forth in front of the mirror, "by anyone other than my
father, anyway."

"Damn! Look at the time." Bailey stepped back from the two and
glanced at her watch.  "You two finish up here, I have some
finishing of my own to do," she said as she hurried towards down
the hallway.

Amanda watched her go, then lifted the dress and sat back down. 
"Not that I've spent much time with her," she said, fiddling with
the shoes, "but I've never seen her quite like this."

Liz shook her head slightly and whispered, almost mumbling the
reply. "Neither have I."

Amanda looked up at that.  "I really, really do want to apologize
if I'm butting into anything here, Liz."

"Oh, don't be silly, girlfriend," Liz smiled and turned back to
her and began playing with her ponytail, reworking what Bailey
had done, "any problems we're having started a long time before
you stumbled in.  It's a really awkward situation we're in. 
Well, really, that SHE'S in. She really wants to run for DA one
of these days, I think."

"I can understand," Amanda sighed and reached for the bottle of
Dom. "That would explain the marriage," she said as she poured
another glass.

Liz pulled the hair back tightly at that. "Well, yeah. I guess.
But it's so fucking hard to see her going out all the time
knowing I can't...or we can't..."

Amanda put her hand up over her shoulder and clasped the woman's
hand gently. Liz smiled down at her reflection in the mirror.
"But that's not your problem, girlfriend," she said as she
returned the gesture, firmly gripping Amanda's hand in hers. For
a few awkward moments, they remained like that, looking at each
other's reflections in the mirror.

Finally, Liz drew a heavy breath and stepped back, letting
Amanda's hand fall to her shoulder.  "Uh, I think I need to take
care of something," she mumbled softly as she turned and hurried
into the bathroom and closed the door. 

Amanda lifted the glass to her lips, took a sip and glanced about
the room.  Finding the hairbrush, she picked it up and began
running her fingers slowly over the handle.  Downing the entire
glass of champagne, she placed the glass back on the tray and
dropped her left hand to her lap. She continued to hold the brush
in her right hand and stared at it for a few moments.  Slowly she
brought it up to her face...her eyes closing and her lips pursing
slightly.  

"They say you never really own beer, you just rent it," came a
voice from the bathroom.  "The same thing about champagne, I
guess" Liz said as she walked back into the room.  Mandy quickly
brought both her hands back to the brush and gripped it tightly,
adjusting herself in her chair and hurriedly crossing her legs.

"What's wrong?" Liz asked.

"Uh, nothing," Mandy replied, as she reached both hands down to
tug at the end of the gown and crossed her legs the other way.

Liz stared at her for a few short moments, then walked to a
nearby chest of drawers.  "It might be worse than just being
embarrassing, Amanda, I really think you need to see a doctor
about it."

"Uh, yeah.  Tomorrow maybe, if it's still a problem."  Mandy's
face turned red yet again.  "I feel so bad about this.  I don't
want to ruin your dress.  You wouldn't happen to have any...well,
you know."

Liz opened a drawer and started digging through it.  "Way ahead
of you," she replied as she grabbed two pairs of black panties
from the drawer and tossed them on the table in front of Mandy. 
She then turned back towards the bathroom. "We'll need to get you
a purse, too."

Mandy sighed as she picked up the panties. "Again, I really think
I need to thank you two for everything.  This was SUCH a fucking
lousy day before I stumbled into Bailey."

"Well, it's nice to know Dufus is good for SOMETHING," came the
reply from the bathroom.  A minute later, Liz walked out with two
napkins and a small silver purse in the shape of a combination
safe, complete with handle.

"I've been using this to keep my cosmetics in, but you need it
more than I do," she smiled as she opened the purse and stuck a
napkin and one of the pairs of panties inside.  Then she handed
it to Mandy.  "Bathroom's free."

"Thanks," Mandy replied as she took the things and went to the
doorway and turned back towards the other woman.  "For
everything," she finished as she closed the door behind her.

Behind her, in the bedroom, Liz sat on her bed and took a few
deep breaths.  One hand went up to wipe the wetness from her
forehead and the other fell to the front of her shorts. "Damn,"
she whispered to herself as her fingers reached their target. 

She sighed once and started to sit down on the bed, but the
flushing of the toilet in the next room brought her back to her
feet. She shook her head vigorously, both hands balled and
pressed to her forehead - then finally she stood still for only a
second before quickly walking back into her closet and began
searching through her clothes...

After about ten minutes, Mandy emerged from the bathroom and
immediately went back in front of the mirror.  "Everything OK?"
came a voice from the closet.

"Uh, yeah," mumbled Mandy in reply, her face still mesmerized by
the reflection of the younger woman she barely recognized. 

Liz walked out of the closet with another dress, but quickly
threw it on her bed and walked to her dresser chest. "That help
with the...problem?"

Mandy either didn't hear her or was ignoring her.  She ran her
fingers lightly across her breasts down to her thighs.  And
giggled.  Softly.  Very softly. Then she reached for the bottle
of champagne, which was now almost empty.

Liz turned back to her chest and rummaged through the drawers. 
"I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" she whispered
quietly to herself.

"Mandy, you almost ready?!" came a voice from down the hallway.

"umm, hmm," came the reply as the older woman poured herself yet
another glass. 

"Did you hear...?" Bailey started as she stood in the doorway.
Both women looked up at that and Mandy almost dropped her glass.
Almost.  Her eyelashes fluttered swiftly as she breathed deeply
and grasped the glass with both hands.  Across the room, Liz
groaned softly and slammed one of the drawers shut.

Assistant District Attorney Bailey Davenport was no longer there.
 In her place was some dark and dangerous vision in a low-cut
lavender Armani gown that only one recognized and only the other
would acknowledge.

"Wow," Mandy muttered.  "You look great," was all she could say.

"Yeah, yeah," Bailey quickly motioned to her to come. "Plenty of
time for that later."

Mandy started to put the glass down but Bailey grabbed her hand,
complete with glass, as she started from the room.  "You can
bring that with you."

As Bailey guided her to the top of the stairs, she bent her head
back into the doorway and looked at Liz for a few seconds.  "I'll
be back for you later," she mouthed silently, and then she was
gone. 

Behind them, in her bedroom, Liz fell on the bed and listened as
they noisily made their way down the stairs and out of the
townhouse.

"Oops!!!!! Damn heels!  Oh, geez, sorry, Bailey!!!"

"Oh, don't worry about it.  You can get some at the club."

"But your carpet?!"

"That's what cleaning crews are for."

"Oh, look at that thunder!  We'll get soaked."

"That's why man invented umbrellas."

"But Liz's dress...?!!"

"If it gets wet, I'll just buy her another one. Don't fucking
worry about it."

As she heard the door slam behind them, Liz jumped up to her
window and opened the blinds.  Peering out past the water running
in little streams down the glass, she watched as the headlights
of the BMW came and went.  Then she noticed her reflection in the
glass.  There were streams on both sides of the window, now.

She sniffled, softly, and did her best to wipe away the ones on
her side.

Then she tore off her T-shirt and looked at the dress lying on
the bed.

Fifteen minutes later, a brown Toyota pulled away from the
Fairfield Townhomes and made its way purposefully through the
rain. 


******************


"I don't see his car."

"Well, good questioning takes time."

"Well, yeah, but..."

"And this rain might have delayed him."

"Yeah, it IS pretty awful," she said as she continued to scan the
lot.

"Plus, it'll give us time to get something to eat.  I bet you're
starved," Bailey added as she pulled the BMW into the covered
front drive. 

"Haven't had anything to eat all day, actually," Mandy sighed as
she gave up her search.  "But I'm not really all that hungry -
only thirsty."

"Well, we certainly need to do something about that." Bailey said
as she stopped the car and turned off the lights.  The doorman
quickly ran around to the driver's side and opened the door.

"Evening, Mrs. Davenport."

"Evening, Clyde. Take good care of it," she added as she tossed
the keys to him and dug in her purse and retrieved a ten.

"Always, ma'am," he smiled as he took the keys and pocketed the
bill.  "Always."

On the passenger side, Mandy tried to open the door, but found
she couldn't locate the controls.  From the outside, she felt the
door give way and saw a hand extended to her. The young valet
smiled eagerly as he bent down to take her hand.  Trying to
suppress a giggle, she swung her legs through the small doorway,
only to have one of her long heels hook on the weather-stripping.
 Leaning back to try again, she raised her legs up higher and
thrust them up and out of the door.  The valet leaned into the
car and grasped both arms gently, but firmly and pulled her up
and out of the car, momentarily bringing their bodies together
forcefully with a dull thud.  The valet started to stumble
backwards, but Mandy managed to retain her grip and pull him back
up to her.  The two stared at each other awkwardly for a moment,
then Mandy suddenly broke out in a fit of laughter.

She brought one leg up, playfully, and rubbed the top of her
foot.  "Hehe, heals," she giggled and smiled at the valet, who
was trying very hard not to lose his professional demeanor. 
Bailey grabbed her from behind with both hands and smiled at the
valet.

"Thanks, Johnny," she said, as she guided the still-giddy Mandy
through the door and into the club.  Behind them, Johnny smiled
and nodded and went to the other side of the car, where Clyde
proceeded to hand him the keys and pat him firmly on the back.

"Black," Johnny whispered to Clyde as he got into the car.  "That
makes twenty you owe me."

"Damn, why do I always get the sober ones?" came the response, as
Clyde handed the younger man a Benji.

"I dunno, but there was something weird about that one, man," he
answered as he started the car. "She may be an old broad, but I
got a woody just from touching her."

"Hell, I got a woody, just from WATCHING you touch her,"
whispered the doorman to no one in particular as he watched the
BMW drive off.

****************

"I don't know, Bailey, what are you going to get?" Mandy had her
nose in the menu. 

"Hmm, good question," she mused as she looked up over her  sherry
at the waitress.  "Sara, who's back there today?"

"Oh, it's Fritz tonight. Gerald had to go up to Oklahoma to get
his daughter. Nasty thing, that."  She was smiling and
rearranging the crystal flower vase on the table.

"OK, in that case, I'll have the Shrimp Caesar with the dressing
on the side," Bailey said, handing Sara the menu.  "With that
sourdough and that garlic butter he does so well." 

"And you?" Sara turned to Mandy as she took the menu and adjusted
the top of her uniform leotard.

"Uh, I dunno," she replied, taking another sip of sherry.  "This
is really embarrassing. I've never actually EATEN here before."

"Take your time," Sara continued to smile and tug at the bottom
of her uniform. "Pretty much everything's good."

"Hmm, I was thinking about fried chicken..."

At that, Bailey politely snatched the menu from Mandy and grinned
as she handed it to Sara. "Bring her a Chicken Caesar and some of
Fritz's black bean soup.  And have Tom send over some more
sherry."

Mandy blushed as she took another sip.  "Never been much for
salads," she said as Sara turned to leave.

"Oh, you'll LOVE what Fritz does with them," Bailey smiled and
answered as she watched Sara make her way through the crowded
nightclub.  The waitress was bobbing and weaving past the bar
when she noticed a blonde young man in a sweater vest stop her,
but they were too far away for her to hear the resulting
conversation.

"Pardon me, Miss," he asked, politely.

"Yes, sir," she answered, placing the menus between her body and
his.

"I couldn't help noticing the two women at that table you just
came from," he started, shyly. "The one in the green dress looks
really familiar, but I can't quite place her."

"I'd like to help you, sir, but I don't know her name.  She
usually comes and sits at the bar.  Maybe Tom would know..." she
nodded towards the bartender.  "If you'll excuse me..."

"Oh, certainly," he withdrew as she walked past him into the
kitchen.  He looked towards the busy bartender, then back at the
corner table where the two women sat sipping their drinks. 
Bailey looked in his direction and he quickly slid from his stool
and approached the bartender.

Bailey grinned and nudged Mandy on the arm. "Don't look now,
girlfriend, but I think you're already drawing attention."

Mandy slunk back into her chair and tried to hide behind the
table.  "Oh, great.  I wish Mario would just hurry up and get
here."  She took another sip.

"Sigh," Bailey frowned. "We need to get your mind off him for a
while."

"I can't THINK of anything else, Bailey," Mandy frowned back,
squirming a bit more in her chair.  Then softer, "It was OK for a
while, after the bath, but..."

"What's so special about Mario anyway?" Bailey looked sideways at
her.  "Look at yourself, Mandy.  You could have half of the guys
in this room.  Why settle for a cop?"

Mandy giggled.  "Hell, half of the fucking guys here ARE cops!" 
And she took another sip.

Bailey threw back her head and laughed.  "Oh, yeah.  I forgot
what this place has turned into over the past few months."

Mandy drew a deep breath.  "But Mario is...well, Mario liked the
old Amanda. Not many people liked the old Amanda."

"Well, maybe that's because of who the old Amanda was," Bailey
cocked her head and put her hand on Mandy's arm. "I've settled a
few of your cases, you know.  You did, err, do good work."

"That makes three of us who think that way."  She took another
sip.

"Well, girl, take it from one who knows, once you start living
those cases, those rapes, those, tortures, those murders and
beatings, you start getting caught up in the lives of those who
are destroyed, those who are raped and murdered. And you stop
being the person you were."

"Sometimes," Bailey continued as she rubbed Mandy's arm tenderly.
 "Sometimes, you just have to take a step back and try to
remember who you were before."

"Well, what if you've been doing it for so long that you can't
REMEMBER who you were before," Mandy stared into the glass, as if
searching...

"Then," Bailey moved closer and ran a finger softly across the
older woman's forehead, "maybe you need help."

Mandy lowered her head to the table and continued to study her
face in the glass, occasionally moving the liquid slightly,
distorting her features, then watching them settle back to
normal.  Not waiting for a reply, Bailey continued.

"I used to be a lot like that, Mandy.  I started in the DAs
office thinking that I could keep being the person I was.  But I
discovered quickly that it wasn't going to work. The world won't
accept a person like me in such a position and it drove me crazy.
The more I tried to mold myself into what I thought would be
accepted, the more I hated it.  And then I turned that hatred
onto others and became someone I didn't like.  Someone I didn't
like at all."

She raised her glass and drained it all at once as Mandy looked
on in wondrous admiration. Then, putting the glass back on the
table, Bailey turned back to Mandy and grinned mischievously. 
"But, I finally found the solution, Mandy.  Difficult to accept,
maybe, but the world won't accept me, so there you have it."

Mandy looked at her as if waiting.  Not to disappoint her, Bailey
whispered "I won't change to suit the world, I'll change the
world to suit me."

Mandy laughed and raised her glass.  "Oh, so THAT'S all you have
to do?  Strange no one else ever though of it."

Bailey smiled.  "You never did interview me about the
courthouse."

Mandy stopped suddenly, frowned, and lowered her glass back to
the table.  "Geez, and we were doing so good too."

Bailey was about to reply when Sara approached the table with two
more glasses of sherry.  "Sorry, we're so busy, the food is going
to take a few more minutes, but here are your drinks, courtesy of
the gentleman in the sweater sitting at the bar."

Both women immediately looked in the direction Sara was nodding,
then they looked at each other, clearly puzzled. 

"Would you like anything else while I'm here?"  Sara smiled,
shifted on her feet and once again adjusted the bottom of her
leotard.

"Yeah," Mandy replied smartly.  "I'd like to know who the hell he
is."

"Officer Bob Henderson, or so he told me," came the reply. "He
says he knows one of you."

Immediately, Mandy moved her chair closer to Bailey and pulled
the taller woman in front of her, giggling all the while.  "OH,
NO!  I can't believe it!"  Then she beckoned to Sara to move
between them and the man at the bar.  "C'mon, PLEASE Sara."

Sara sighed, but continued smiling, as she did as asked. 

"OK, girl, spill," Bailey said as she tried to retain her dignity
with a maniacally giddy woman hiding behind her. 

"He gave me a ticket...well, he didn't REALLY give me a ticket. 
He WAS going to give me a ticket today but I talked him out of
it." 

"Oh," Sara mocked, chuckling, "must be nice being a law
enforcement type."

"Careful, girl," Bailey clucked at Mandy.  "You're in the
presence of a duty-sworn officer of the law here.  I might just
have to..." 

"Oh, c'mon, Bailey.  Geez, I wanna die."

Sara turned back and looked towards Henderson.  "Hey, he's really
kinda cute."

Mandy quickly moved slightly to again place herself behind Sara.
"Oh, STOP IT!!!!"

Sara's hand came up innocently between her breasts and began
rubbing.  "He's looking this way."

Bailey frowned in mock astonishment.  "You didn't FLIRT with him,
did you?"

"Well, it wasn't really...NO!  Mandy slunk further down in her
chair.  "I mean, hell, he's half my age!" 

Bailey stared at him as he turned away to watch a nearby
television set.  "No, I'd say he's only 10 years younger."

Sara started giggling as she tugged at her tights.  "That's
NOTHING nowadays."

"Oh, PLEASE!" cried Mandy as she once again squirmed in her chair
and tried to hide behind Bailey as Henderson glanced back towards
the table.

"Suit yourself," finished Sara as she turned away with a smile.
"I still think he's cute."

As she walked back towards the kitchen, Bailey smiled at the way
she stopped to pull her leotard from between her cheeks. Then she
glanced to her left and noticed the couple at the table next to
theirs had begun embracing passionately.  And even though the
band was yet to appear, several couples had begun dancing to the
piped in music.  Behind her, Mandy's chest was heaving
irregularly as she reached for one of the glasses of sherry. 
Bailey drew a deep breath. And smiled.

Pulling closer to Mandy, Bailey drew her glass to her lips. She
let her other hand drop to her lap and whispered.  "I've got a
secret I'm just DYING to tell someone." 

Mandy suppressed a giggle and crossed her legs as she took a sip.
"Oooh, let me guess," she whispered back.  "Is it...you're a L E
S B I A N?" she spelled it out, making certain to slur the
letters very carefully. Then she leaned back against the wall and
giggled some more. "'Cause if that's it," she continued, mouthing
silently "...it's not much of a secret."

Happy with herself, Mandy smiled broadly and leaned back to
Bailey's ear, "And it BETTER not be that you're in love with me,
Miss DA, 'cause you're NOT my type."  And she broke into a sudden
bout of laughter at her joke. 

Bailey laughed along with her for a moment, then clutched the
older woman's left hand and brought it down to Mandy's lap. "No,"
she whispered. "It's much DIRTIER."

"Oooh," Mandy whispered back quietly, trying hard to suppress a
giggle. "Dirtier than being a lesbian?"  She took another sip,
took a deep breath, then tried her best to look serious. "This I
gotta hear."

Bailey put her mouth an inch from Mandy's ear and ran both their
hands along her left thigh as she whispered in her best devilish
voice.

"I was in an orgy."

Mandy drew back in mock shock. "NO!" Then she chuckled evilly. 
"Was it one of those LESBIAN orgies?" she asked in the same
whispering tone. And she giggled some more.

"Worse," Bailey grasped her hand tightly and brought it further
up her leg, moving the dress as it went.  "It was with MEN," she
playfully spit out the last. 

"NO!" Mandy said again.  "Isn't that against the rules?"  And she
giggled some more.

Bailey put on her best courtroom face. "You bet.  Right in the
first chapter of the lesbian rule book.  Article One, Chapter
Two, specifically states: No orgies with men."

"Wow!" Mandy giggled and took another sip.  "So, what's the
punishment?"

Bailey moved their hands to the front of Mandy's panties and
rubbed them softly, passing the back of her hand over the stray
pubic hairs on the inside of her inner thighs.  And she whispered
with dead sincerity.

"I have to seduce a straight woman."

The two looked at each other intently, lost in a drunken game of
chicken.  After a few seconds more, Bailey finally loosened her
grip on Mandy's hand and tickled the front of her panties in a
parting gesture as she leaned back in her chair and laughed.

Mandy swallowed hard and forced a giggle.  Then she reached for
her glass and quickly took a long swig and fought back the urge
to have it come back up.  As she did so, she happened to glance
to her right and did a double take as she noticed the couple at
the table next to them were locked in a lover's embrace, their
mouths devouring everything except the food in front of them. She
quickly turned away and was about to say something to Bailey...

"So!" a voice interrupted from a few feet away.  Both women
turned to see the man in the sweater approaching cautiously. 
"Detective Tuck, I sure hope you aren't driving," he continued,
leading with his best smile.

Bailey immediately rose to her feet as Mandy did her best to
pretend not to recognize him.  "You must be Officer Henderson,"
Bailey smiled and extended her hand.  "Mandy has told me ALL
about how you two met."

"Oh, HAS she now," he said, rather loudly, "I hope she didn't
tell you EVERYTHING."

Bailey looked down at Mandy, who was still looking down at the
table. Her hands had discovered the flower vase and were sliding
it slowly across the tablecloth towards her.  She was still
obviously pretending to be oblivious to his presence. 

"Well, now, maybe not.  But I think buying another round of
drinks certainly entitles you to tell me the rest," Bailey said
with a giggle, as she pointed to the chair opposite hers.  The
dance floor was now quite crowded and she looked around for Sara,
but could not locate her.  Henderson smiled politely as he slid
the chair out from under the long tablecloth.  Behind him, the
couple had moved from first base to second base, but no one
seemed to notice.  Or care.

"I have to admit," Bob said as he sat down, "when I first saw you
two come in, I had no idea that the little Cinder I met this
morning doing 50 through a school zone was going to sprout her
wings so quickly."

He looked crossways at Mandy, who was still playing with the
flower vase, slowly running one hand up and down the crystal, and
thumbing the yellow flowers lightly with the other.  Bailey
looked over at him and sighed.  "You'll have to forgive her," she
frowned slightly.  "She's had a bad day."

"So she told me," he moved one of his large hands to Mandy's
shoulder.  "I was in the middle of a really bad one myself, but
she gave me a GREAT bit of advice that really helped," he smiled
broadly.  "I figure I owe her a little something."

Mandy ducked under the table and came up with Liz's purse.  She
fumbled with the combination for a few seconds, then slammed it
back down on the table.  "Damn!" she cried, as Bob reached out
and grabbed her glass to keep it from tipping over. 

Bailey quickly grabbed the purse and smiled apologetically
towards Henderson.  "My ditzy roommate lent her her purse, but
forgot to tell her the combination." 

"Let me guess," Bob quipped.  "Her measurements, right?"

Bailey giggled as she popped open the purse. "Close. 6-9-6." 

Bob started laughing.  Mandy grabbed the pack of cigarettes from
the purse and fumbled with it for a few seconds before managing
to get one out.  Bob immediately dug into his pocket and came out
with a book of matches.  He struck one and Mandy finally turned
to him in order to get it lit. As the light flickered in her
eyes, Bob Henderson drew a very deep breath.

"God, you're beautiful," was all he could say.

Bailey swallowed hard as she watched Mandy's left arm fall under
the table once again as she began taking deep drags on the
cigarette.  Bob continued to stare silently into the older
woman's eyes, as if there were nothing else in his world at the
moment.  His hands slowly crept towards her thighs under the
table. Bailey somehow managed to draw her own eyes away from the
two of them long enough to shake her head and glance around. And
she shuddered.

Behind Henderson, the couple at the table next to theirs were no
longer sitting down, but rolling around on the carpet.  Her
blouse was in two pieces now, but still somehow managed to stay
draped around her voluptuous body as his mouth was kneading her
breasts.  Next to them, on the dance floor, numerous couples were
in various states of undress, some still dancing, some well
beyond that now. She spied Sara, their waitress, leaning against
the bar, eyes closed, running her fingers violently in and out of
the space between her leotard and tights.

"Oh. Fucking. Hell."

Her eyes shot back to Mandy, who was now staring straight ahead,
oblivious to anything or anyone else in the room. She had dropped
the cigarette and picked up the flower vase, had removed the
flowers and water, and was slowly and obscenely moving it towards
her mouth. Bob Henderson's face was almost imbedded in her neck
now, his tongue roving about in the area between her shoulder and
ear, his hands coupled with hers under the table, caressing her
sex.

Bailey sprung from her chair and had one hand on the vase and one
around Mandy's waist, when the older woman's eyes suddenly shot
open wide.

"What the FUCK is going on!" shouted a slightly confused and very
upset Mario Lopez.

"Mario?" Mandy offered, softly, pleadingly, as she looked up at
him, as she continued to play with her sex.  If Henderson saw
him, he made no sign as he continued to work his lips against her
ear lobe.

"Amanda?" The husky Latino ventured, squinting in the lamplight
of the dimly lit club. "Is that you?"

Bailey used the distraction to free the vase from Mandy with her
left hand.  Her right hand crept slowl towards the back of the
neck of the emerald green gown.

"Mario?" Mandy repeated, this time more strongly, and she
attempted to stand up, her left hand still slowly but firmly
massaging her cunt through the panties.  Henderson turned his
head slightly and, paying no attention to Mario or anyone else,
attempted to plant a kiss on her lips.

"Who the FUCK is THIS!!" Mario was livid, now, and quickly moved
towards the table.  Mandy managed to spring to her feet, but her
hand remained inside the slit of the dress, causing it to bunch
up around her waist. Bailey put her hand on Mandy's back, and
seemed to be studying the situation, unsure of what to do next. 
Henderson stood up, threw both arms around Mandy and managed to
stop her forward movement, clutching at her waist. 

In vain, as it happened, because before the young cop could get a
grip on her, the older detective spun him around with a firm hand
on his shoulder and laid him out with a right cross, sending him
sprawling to the floor just to the left of the table.  And there
he remained, unmoving.

"Mario," Mandy gazed lovingly at him as he turned to her.  "I'm
ready for you now," she purred, moving slowly towards him, her
left hand still moving in and out of her panties.  Then, with her
next step, she removed and extended it.

"I'm wet for you."  She grinned, eyes dancing, oblivious to
everyone else in the room.

Mario looked around, nervously. The music continued, but the
dancing had stopped, though a few couples continued their private
gyrations in the dimly lit corners.

A hundred eyes.

All on them.

And as she approached, he could not help but smell it.

All of it.

The cigarettes. The alcohol. And the other.

"I've been wet for you." She extended her left hand and raised
her dress with her right. "All day."

"It's amazing, Mario.  Fucking amazing. I've never felt ANYTHING
like this before. Can't think. Can't do anything."

"God, it was hard." Her hand went back inside her panties as she
ripped out the sanitary pad and dropped it on the dance floor. 
"So hard. But I managed to save it all."

"All for you."   And she smiled again as she stumbled slowly
towards him on her heels, finally reaching out to him with a
one-arm embrace. 

To find only empty, smelly, FOUL air.

"You're fucking CRAZY, bitch!" Her white knight spat as he backed
away. From the smells. From her. From the beast with a hundred
eyes. 

"Get the fuck AWAY from me!" 

"Get the fuck AWAY!"  Finally, as the white knight turned and
walked quickly into the storm outside, leaving the maiden at the
mercy of the beast.


***************


She was wet.

Wetness dripped from her hair.  It ran down her dress, inside and
out. It clung to her bare feet and gently scattered in all
directions as she walked. 

But she didn't shiver.  Nor were there goose bumps on her arms or
legs. Or anywhere else on her, for that matter.  The outside
temperature gauge on the BMW read 62 degrees, but she wasn't
cold.

She was hot. In fact, she was very hot, so hot that as they
walked down the dimly lit corridors of the hospital, Bailey could
almost see her glow. So hot, that those were Officer Deever's
exact words to her, actually.

"Geez, Detective, you're HOT," he said as he looked up from his
chair as she and Bailey approached down the dimly lit corridor.
The nurse on her knees in front of him didn't look up, she was
otherwise occupied.

"By the way...Detective...I really want to thank you
for...requesting I pull a double tonight," he added,
breathlessly, as they passed. The nurse on her knees in front of
him didn't say anything, she was otherwise occupied.

The generator allowed for only two lights in the ceiling of his
room. The television was silent, the only sound effects provided
by the storm outside. But it was sufficient. In fact, more than
sufficient. Thunderstorms don't break for commercials.  They also
occasionally add extra lighting at just the appropriate time.

Such as when she and Bailey walked into the room. 

Sally jumped at the lighting and thunder, but Dias and his blonde
boy toy didn't. They were otherwise occupied. Bailey smiled when
she saw them, they made such a cute couple.  Gilbert wasn't
there. Neither was the LT. Bubbles looked up at them when they
entered but didn't say anything.  Her mouth was otherwise
occupied.

And they ALL knew how Mr. Chuckles felt about interruptions.

Sally took a deep breath as soon as she settled down.  "We were
starting to worry..."

Bailey shook her head and sighed.  "You would NOT believe the
hoops we had to jump through to get here."

Sally was looking past her with wide eyes.  "Wow. She's gorgeous!
 So much nicer than this morning."

Bailey nodded. "It's been a looooong day," she half smiled. Then
she looked over at the bed and then back at Sally. 

The red-haired girl smiled, moved to the bed and playfully tapped
Bubbles on the shoulder.  "My turn!" she giggled, as she bent
down as Bubbles stood up, adjusted her mini and hair and did some
basic jaw stretching exercises. 

"This is SOOO cool!" she yelped.  "All this thunder and lightning
and stuff. It's almost like being INSIDE a cartoon."

Bailey glanced out the window.  "It does seem rather
appropriate."

Bubbles looked sideways at the bed. "You, like, don't think
he..."

Bailey planted a kiss on her forehead.  "Eh, somehow, I don't
think so, kiddo."

"I bet he could if he, like, you know, REALLY put his mind to
it."

"Well, I'm not one to discount anything where he's concerned, but
somehow I think..."

At that exact moment, a huge thunderstrike lit up the room and
the resulting echoes bounced about for a few moments before the
room was quiet once again.  The two of them glanced nervously
towards the comatose form on the bed.  Dias raised his eyes with
them, then quickly went back to his business.

"Uh," Bubbles ventured, "maybe we, like, ought to get started,"
as she looked over to the doorway.

She was standing there, unblinking, staring at the form on the
bed. The floor was wet where she had walked and where she now
stood, a growing pungent pool of rainwater, urine, sweat
and...her essence. And while it was impossible to tell the exact
mixture, only one of the four continued when the others had been
exhausted.  Yet still the pool grew.  And expanded.

Bubbles looked at her curiously.  "Is it safe to touch her?"

"Of course, silly," Bailey replied as she demonstrated by
caressing her shoulder.  "And it feels WONDERFUL!"

Bubbles let out a small but wondrous sigh as she lightly touched
the other shoulder. "Wow.  If it, like, feels this good just to
TOUCH her..."

"Don't even think about it, kiddo," said Bailey as she pulled one
side of the gown down by the sleeve, "help me get her started."

She stood there, silent and staring straight ahead, as they
pulled the gown down to her feet. There was a huge hole in the
front of what once appeared to be black panties. Bubbles squinted
and pinched her nose.

"Ew, how ghetto!" She reached out to touch what was left of them,
then drew back with a shiver as all the hair on her tiny body
suddenly straightened and fell.  "What happened?"

"All the way from the club here, she couldn't keep her hands off
herself," Bailey reached up and started wringing the rainwater
from her hair, which was still in the ponytail. "Even from the
driver's seat I could feel it."

Bubble's eyes grew wide as she took her hands and, basking in the
shared warmth, gently peeled away what was left of the underwear.
"Wow!  She's dripping like CRAZY!"  Her left hand suddenly went
down inside the front of her skirt...  "This is soooo freaky,
Bailey, my hairs are all, like, jumping around!"

Bailey only smiled and continued to towel dry the hair, which she
had released from the ponytail.

"Do you think we ought to, you know, dry down here?"

"Hell if I know," came the reply.  "But probably better just to
leave it alone."  She ran the towel gently over the rest of the
body.

"Yeah," Bubbles mused as she playfully touched different parts of
the body, wallowing in the different sensations, "wouldn't want
to, you know, mess anything up." 

"Hehehehe, when I touch here," she giggled as she caressed the
left knee, "my right nip gets all tingly."

"All right, you."  Bailey smiled and snapped the towel in her
general direction.  "It's not supposed to be THAT much fun."

"Pooh, can't you, like, hear him laughing?" Bubbles looked up at
her, puzzled.

Bailey returned the look.  "Uh, no.  Am I supposed to?"

For a second, Bubbles broke out in one of her patented pouts,
"Oh, sorry," then quickly smiled and stood up.  "Maybe someday."

"Hmm," Bailey mused as she dropped the towel. 

The shorter girl stepped back and put a hand to her chin,
changing the subject.  "I still can't, like, believe, how much
younger she looks in just, like, half a day."

Bailey stood beside her and put her arm around the shorter girl's
shoulder. "It certainly is remarkable."

"I wonder if he could, like, do that for me," Bubbles sighed.
"Well, in twenty years, I mean."

"After the past week, girlfriend, I'll believe most anything
where he's concerned." Bailey bent down and kissed her
passionately on the lips and they remained that way for a few
moments, the only sounds coming from the rain on the window and
the slight, wet, slippery sounds coming from the direction of the
bed.

Suddenly, yet another tremendous thunderstrike shook the room. 
Dias looked up from his boyfriend's cock.  "Get on with it,
already."

Bailey grumbled and shot him a nasty glance.  "OK, loverboy, but
the next time he gets himself in a fix, YOU do all the work and
WE get to lay around making love."

She waited patiently as Bubbles and Bailey each took an arm and
pulled her slowly towards the bed.  Bailey smiled down at her.
"Believe me, this is going to be MUCH better than cigarettes."

They reached the side of the bed and Sally looked up from Mr.
Chuckles and took one, long last tour before lifting her head
from the bed.  Immediately, without prompting, she bent down and
took him, swallowing greedily.  Her left hand, then her right
went down to her cunt.  Bailey and Bubbles stepped aside quickly
as her elbows swung wildly back and forth, her entire hands
seemingly moving in and out in rapid succession in rhythm with
her now-pistoning head.

"Wow!" was all Bubbles could say as her hands slowly inched down
her body.  Her hairs were starting to move again.

Next to her, Sally found fingers doing likewise, crawling down
the front of her flowered print sundress on their own.  "Maybe
we'll see him cum in her mouth."

"Oh, like that would be SO cool!"  Bubbles was caressing her
breasts with the other hand now.

Bailey was going to reply, but bit her lip instead as she gazed
in wonder at the sex machine by the bed. Instinctively, her hand
went down to her panties, then came back out. She sighed softly,
finally, and backed towards the doorway.

"Something wrong, lover?" Issued a soft, low familiar voice from
outside the doorway. "I've heard that sigh a hundred times."

"Liz?" she asked without turning around.

"It's the same exact sigh I hear just before I hang up the
phone," came the voice, now a breathy whisper in her right ear.

"You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you."

"It's dangerous."

"No, it's not," the voice chuckled.  "There's a sleeping
policeman right outside the room."

"It's not something to joke about."

"You're right, it's not."  The voice became a tongue that lapped
at her ear. "I don't know what's going on and I'm not sure I WANT
to know what's going on."

A bare arm snaked underneath Bailey's right, then another under
her left. "All I know that I want to be anywhere YOU are, Dufus."
 The arms came together, pressing, caressing, each hand cupping a
breast.

"You're a fool, Miss Elizabeth Guidry."

"I'm YOUR fool, Miss Bailey Davenport."

Bailey grabbed one of the hands and brought it to her lips as she
felt a different wetness, a very, very unfamiliar wetness. "Only
if he wills it," she said softly. Sadly. 

"Only if..."

Another thunderstrike, further away this time, lit up the room.
The lights flickered.

Bubbles and Sally Hooper watched in awe as the sex machine once
known as Amanda Tuck jumped onto the bed and impaled herself on
Mr. Chuckles. Immediately, the room seemed warmer, the
temperature rising with each and every upward movement of her
buttocks as she slid up and down.  Even Dias and his partner
noticed and stopped their lovemaking to gawk.

Suddenly, Bailey began to squint as she watched. "What, the
hell?"  Behind her, Liz turned her attention up from her lover's
breasts...

"hmm?"

"You don't see it?"

"All I see is you." She kissed her neck.  "Oh, yeah, and two
crazed weasels in a hospital bed."

"You don't feel it?"

"Of course I do, Dufus.  I've been feeling it all fucking day." 
She squeezed her breasts again.  "Or wanting to."

"No.  Damn it, Liz.  You mean you really CAN'T see it?"

"No, what the HELL are you talking about?"  Her hands fell down
from Bailey's breasts to the sides of her dress and crawled into
the slits to hide from the warmth growing in the room.

Sally and Bubbles were on their knees now, knees spread wide. 
Sweat was beading up, collecting, and running in patterns across
their foreheads, cheeks, dripping slowly from lips, noses, chins.
 An unseen wind, warm and moist and tender whipped around, above
and under the bed and throughout the room, weaving back and forth
between the bodies, lovingly touching each and every mind and
soul in the room. 

Save one.

Elizabeth Guidry's hands reached their destination, but suddenly
she pulled them back and out of Bailey's dress, crying in agony,
wringing them together and howling in a pitiful mixture of pain
and rejection.  She fell to the floor and writhed on her side,
cradling her hands under her chin, crying.

But as she sobbed, alone and weakly in the dim light, she was
matched and overpowered by five voices crying in pleasure.  Her
lover had fallen to her knees in a circle with the others.
Through her tears, she could see the two bodies on the bed
seemingly moving as one now, but she paid them only a moment's
heed.  Her eyes were, as always, on the one.

Then, as quickly as the wind had come, it left.  And as quickly
as the voices cried, they ceased. Five bodies lay in the room,
seemingly lifeless.  And the other...

Elizabeth Guidry struggled to her feet, then fell back to her
knees.  Her hands hung limp and lifeless at her sides. She
managed to raise her head to search for her lover.  On her knees,
she shuffled doggedly towards Bailey Davenport.

She came within two feet.  Just a little more than the distance
between the average person's mind and their genitals.  Then she
looked up.

Liz Guidry was alone.

With the devil.  And the devil LAUGHED.

"Ain't I a stinker?"


{Author's note: "Tuck Amuck" is dedicated to Downing Street, who
has always made it seem too damned easy.  "You da man!"}


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