Heaven or Heathen for Vicki

A couple of times after Sheri moved, I'd noticed there was, occasionally, a clean pair of men's jockey shorts folded on top of her dresser. She admitted that she allowed her brother-in-law Tony to use her apartment for his afternoon trysts. I can't say I was surprised, I knew Tony was that kind of man. He looked for a variety of women and was not particular where he took them. Most of them were rather young, in their early twenties, worked full time, and were inexperienced, but he said he didn't care for virgins. If they had any skills, it was giving blowjobs and they did not even do that very well. Virgins, like his wife Gayle, were for marriage and babies, not for fun. In his words, he wanted a decent blowjob and a hard fuck without emotions or strings attached.

Sheri and I had a few arguments about allowing Tony to use her apartment, but she didn't see that she was hurting her sister. Tony was going to take his women somewhere, at least in her apartment, boyfriends or husbands wouldn't find them. One day I called Sheri at work, but someone said she'd gone home with a headache. I picked up a meal for her, assuming she wouldn't feel like cooking and took it by her apartment. Tony was there, Sheri was just coming out of the shower, and they were alone. Sheri and I stood in her living room yelling at each other for a few minutes when Tony interrupted. He said that he and Sheri having sex had nothing to do with me. I hit him, knocked him to the floor, and walked out of her apartment.

"You're lucky." Vicki said as she slipped her feet off my lap and stood to take dishes and the pan out of the oven, placing them on top of the stove. She took two soup bowls out of the same cabinet where I'd found the dinner and salad plates and told me to bring my plate and fill it. The dishes were really too hot to put on the table and putting everything into serving bowls would just mean more dishes to wash.

** ** **

After Taylor finished writing the first part of Haven's story, it seemed inevitable there would be another meeting between him and Vicki. He was agitated and short tempered. He was doing his job, but he was hard to get along with and most of his co-workers stayed away from him unless they really had to talk to him. They knew about his breakup with Sheri and assumed that was the source of his ill temper.

A few days after he brought the beer by for that first talk, he was collecting some old files, planning to look at every paper in every file. During that same time period he dropped by Taylor's house, mentioning he needed to talk about his evening with Vicki. For a while, he sat on the front porch with Taylor, just catching up on general news of the neighborhood. Then for at least five minutes, he was pretty quiet as he looked around at the few houses and yards he could see until he finally asked if they could go inside, he didn't want to say anything someone might overhear. Instead of heading to the kitchen, he walked straight into the study and sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Haven started talking before Taylor could get to the other side of the desk. Note taking and absent-minded doodling was always easier from the big swivel chair behind the desk anyway. There were usually a few blue lined yellow tablets on top of the desk and it was a habit to pick up a pen or a pencil and start drawing and taking notes as soon as Taylor sat down.

First of all, Haven apologized for not telling the whole story of the first evening he met Vicki. He said it wasn't something he was proud of, but he didn't think he had done anything she didn't want. It may not have been exactly what she expected, if she was really expecting anything. However, Vicki participated without complaint or objection.

* * * * * *

As I looked around Vicki's kitchen, I realized that less than two hours after leaving Bat's Pub, my belly was full and my mind was whirling. I knew so much more about Vicki and didn't know anywhere near enough. I'd admitted my best friend and the woman I thought I was going to marry took advantage of me. To say I was confused was a gross understatement. However, while I was talking to Vicki, I had discovered two things. I was not on the rebound. All I'd had with Sheri was somewhat exciting sex and nothing deeper than that. The second thing I'd learned was that I did not want to go home that night.

For most of those same two hours, in one way or another, everything Vicki and I had said to each other, had something to do with sex. Her birth, less than a year after the marriage of her parents, and the thirty years difference in their ages, was about sex. Her own marriage to a man almost twenty years her senior and the anticipation of starting a family were about sex. Her mother's affair with her son-in-law, a man her own age, and being pregnant with his child was about sex. Tony's and my college dating experiences were about sex. Tony's marriage to a virgin who would be the mother of his children was about sex. Tony's exploits outside of marriage was about sex. My discovery of the affair between Sheri and Tony was about sex.

I was aroused, beyond belief, and suspected Vicki was in a similar state. I had noticed a faint sheen of perspiration across her upper lip and along the sides of her face, in front of her ears. While Vicki put the leftover food in the refrigerator, I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. We worked in near silence, with her answering my few questions with one word, or showing me where something was, rather than telling me. She leaned across me, putting a dish in the sink as I bent over putting the plates in the dishwasher. Her crotch was within inches of my face and I could smell the faint musk of her arousal.

Washing my hands, I lifted my chin breathing deeply, thinking about how thick and hard my cock was. Standing so close to Vicki, even for a moment, was becoming so difficult it was almost too much to think about. For a long intense moment, I pressed my erection against the kitchen cabinet, avoiding the desire to reach down and stroke myself.

With that thought in my head, trying and failing to push away thoughts of the stiffness in my cock, I was rinsing my hands when Vicki put several large spoons in the sink. Cupping her hand to catch some of the water coming out of the faucet, she allowed her hand to fall down to rest in my hands beneath hers. She was close enough that I felt the heat from her body.

I sucked in my breath, deliberately pushed down the faucet handle to turn the water off, and turned to look at her. She glared at me, moved away from the cabinet, and began to back out of the kitchen, with me following her. I was stalking her, giving her space to move, but not allowing her to get much more than arms length away from me.

It may have registered in my mind that we were passing through a room I had not yet seen, but I gave no attention to it. What I wanted was right in front of me. On the dance floor and during our meal, she had flaunted her desire for me. A flash of her eyes, a soft smile, and a small touch of her hand told me repeatedly that she was ripe for the taking. She exuded sex and she wanted it rough. While telling me about her marriage, one red fingernail had scraped my forearm from elbow to wrist. She had bumped into me as we cleaned the kitchen after our meal. It was not casual or accidental. She touched her body against me, with intent, and lingered long enough for me to know she was ready for whatever I wanted to do.

Vicki backed into a hall and then into a bedroom, occasionally touching something, as her eyes stayed focused on mine. Moving backward through the room, she went into a large bathroom and stopped. When I started to reach for her, Vicki shook her head and took a step forward to begin unbuttoning my shirt. I watched her shaking hands while she opened each button down the front of my shirt. She held one side of my shirt open and slowly raked her red nails down my chest, leaving white lines across my skin, until she reached my belt buckle.

"Wait," I stopped her. I knew she would keep going and I could no longer hide from her. I opened the buttons on the front of her shirt and lightly brushed my fingers across the top slope of her breasts. I just had to touch her, I'd been thinking about how her skin would feel. It seemed like being able to do that, at that moment, gave me a little courage.

"You are so beautiful." I was shaking as badly as she was, but I couldn't put it off any longer. The wallet in my hip pocket was always a little difficult to remove. When I placed it in her hand and leaned down to take the handgun out of my ankle holster, she was looking at the badge and police department identification inside the wallet.

I pulled my shirttail out of my pants and took my shirt off, took the wallet from Vicki's hands, and walked back to her bedroom. As I undressed, I put my gun back in the holster, added it to the contents of my pockets scattered on one of the nightstands beside the bed, and draped my shirt and pants over the back of a nearby chair. As suddenly as the thought came to me that I didn't even know Vicki's last name, I knew exactly who she was. I picked up the business card just to make sure. When she had told me about her parents and husband, it was disarming because she used the words Mamma and Daddy or Rob and not their proper names. The six-year-old files on the deaths of Vicki's mother and her husband were still in the filing cabinet behind my desk. Her mother's file also contained the request for exhumation of her father's body, clearly marked DENIED.

I was not part of the detective division when Vicki's father died, nor was I part of the team in that department during the discovery and investigation of her husband and mother's deaths. However, I knew the cases. I sort of inherited my desk from an old fashioned police detective who had kept somecurious files, which he would occasionally go through, looking for something to answer questions no one was asking, but which he felt should have answers. It wasn't often that a district judge died in our jurisdiction and it was even less often, in fact, it was unheard of, when five years later, questions arose about the time and manner of his death. Until his wife's death, the fact that two life insurance policies coincided with his appointment to the bench did not raise questions, despite the fact, that the policies were little more than a year old.

To a police officer,OFFICIAL OPPRESSION is a career ending charge. In technical terms, a public servant, acting under color of his office, commits the offense if he intentionally subjects another to sexual harassment. Included are unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, or other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature. The charge is usually made when the victim feels their own submission is made a term or condition of any right, privilege, or immunity, either explicitly or implicitly. The unofficial colloquialism used is, "Don't fuck the crime," meaning, don't have sex with anyone involved in an open case. I already knew I was not going to let that stop me.

When I walked back into the bathroom, wearing only my boxer shorts, I realized I hadn't looked around very well. The room was large with almost every surface covered with large earth colored tiles so well matched it looked like a landscape painting with the muted colors flowing around the room as if they were layers of sediment on the sides of a sheer valley wall. One corner of the room was an open shower, the floor appearing to be part of the room with a minor slope toward the corner drain. Vicki was standing under a very fine spray of water coming out of two showerheads, one in front of her, and one at her side. She had raised her arms up over her head with her palms flat against the tile and her forehead was resting against the wall between her arms. She straightened up, standing under the water with her head back, allowing the water to wash over her. Periodically, she would run her hands through her hair, which had the effect of lifting her breasts slightly.

When she stepped back, the water flow stopped as she began to run a soapy cloth over her chest and arms, and leaned over to do the same, rubbing the cloth up and down her legs. She stepped forward and the water flow began, rinsing the soapsuds off her, leaving her skin glistening in the muted light. I do not know if she was aware I was watching. The sound of the shower would have drowned out small noises. Seeing her in the shower was one of the most erotic sights I'd ever witnessed.

Stepping to the edge of the water spray, I pulled my boxers down and tossed them behind me, where they landed beside a stack of towels on one end of a short wooden bench. As I moved into the falling water, I felt the warmth of the tiles beneath my feet and the faint flow of very warm air from a vent in the high ceiling above. I knew she was aware I was behind her because she stood perfectly still. I guess she was expecting me to touch her, so I did. I rested my hands on her waist and turned her around to face me as a fine spray of hot water fell on top of my head and hit me from almost every angle, tickling every hair on my body. The sensations of warm air, hot water, and the sight of a naked woman was the most sensual and hedonistic experience I'd ever had.

Beneath the water flow, all physical senses seemed to cease. I could no longer hear anything around me. I felt nothing but heat, and whether my eyes were open or closed, I was in a swirl of flashing lights and darkness.

It is impossible for me to say if I was threatening or rough and dangerous. I may have acted like a demanding and barbaric savage. I had Vicki backed against the wall, her arms spread out to the wall behind her and I was kissing her. The kiss was no gentler than the one in the parking lot of the pub, but it was more thorough and lasted longer. We were out of the line of the shower sensors but the warm airflow continued. My kisses went down her neck and I had one dark nipple and areola in my mouth while I held her against the wall.

I was not thinking, I was claiming my prize, staking my territory, and escaping from the battle with the most prized woman of the enemy clan when I picked her up and turned to carry her to the bed. The caveman instinct was already kicking in. She was mine and I would have my way with her. I don't know if I thought this woman needed to be punished, but I did know there was no more suitable punishment than for me to slake my lust on her.

Vicki wrapped her legs around my waist as I carried her into the bedroom. Her skin was so wet and slick she fumbled to lock her ankles behind me. The feel of her soft thighs encircling my waist was simply too much. It was instinct, not thought, that plunged her down onto my hard shaft while I was still standing. It was crude and primitive but I was no longer myself. I was not brutal, but I was most certainly acting without restraint.

Her eyes opened wide and she exhaled in a whoosh of hot breath as I stretched her soft tissues. She was hot from the shower or the gradually growing sexual arousal she had exhibited while we danced, talked, and ate our dinner. She was wet, outside and inside, plunging into her released a small flood that bathed my balls and ran down my legs. Her head came forward and her teeth clamped onto my neck as she shuddered and groaned as if she was just as fiercely primitive as I was.

I threw back my head and groaned even louder than she did. Vicki sighed and squirmed, her nails digging into my shoulders, until I had my cock fully embedded in her. She pleaded, "Fuck me, Haven." I was about to oblige.

I heard a grunt when I tossed her hard onto the bed, as I slipped out of her. She grabbed for my shoulders and I was on her, burying my face in between her breasts, one hand on each. My fingers dug in the softness as I began kneading, caring little how it might feel to her. She was going to yield to my strength and I had every right to be overbearing, forceful, rough, and dangerous, because that's what she wanted.

"Please, please, please, please," she chanted the moment my cock slipped out of her.

I straightened up to look at her, trying to meet her eyes, trying to know how much farther she wanted me to go. Her eyes were half closed, she was somewhere else, no longer conscious of what I was doing as long as it didn't end. She was beyond the point of asking me to stop, which was impossible anyway. I was past the point where I could have complied.

Grabbing one of her hands, I raised it over her head, slapping it hard against the bed, taking my erection in my other hand, and at the same time, plunging into her. She growled like a wild animal, my voice matched hers. I grabbed her other hand and wrenched it over her head. I pulled almost all the way out of her slick tunnel and then slammed back into her. I heard her grunt and watched her eyes open wide.

Vicki's head rolled from side to side as I plunged into her, going faster than I wanted, yet unable to stop myself. She had asked if I could control my self and I was showing her how much control I had. She screamed. "Fuck me, Haven, fuck me hard."

Her hips were thrusting wildly, meeting me each time I filled her. My feet were braced on the floor, giving me additional leverage as my strength pushed her body across the bed like a ancient Norse berserker fiend fighting in an uncontrollable trance of fury. Instead of releasing her hands, I held them tighter, not caring if I left her bruised with my roughness. I looked between our bodies watching her breasts quivering as her small brown nipples rose when her breasts grew firmer and ripples moved up and down her belly as her first climax sent her over the edge of some precipice. She screamed again, but I did not stop. She asked for this and I would give it to her. Even when she pushed her heels against the bed trying to move away from me, I did not slow down until she was screaming from another climax.

I do not know where the strength came from. For a while, I was pounding in to her so hard I had to hold on to her to keep her from moving. My head was down beside hers and she was groaning in my ear and repeating her request that I fuck her hard.

"Harder, damn you, harder."

That was all I was interested in doing. I wanted to slam against her as hard as I could, shove myself into her until nothing but the sounds of my flesh hitting hers could get inside the turmoil inside my head.

When I could finally slow down, perspiration was dripping from my chin and running down the dent of my backbone. I could not resist drawing my hips back, to get a better look at my cock, purple with blood and wet with her juices, as it slid between her puffy lips. Still moving in and out of her in short strokes, I felt the familiar sensation of my balls drawing up as my cock seemed to lengthen and expand.

As my own climax neared, I could hear only the roar of my blood pounding through my body. I could see only the flashes of light exploding behind my eyelids. I was gritting my teeth until my jaw ached as I worked to finish this onslaught. I was determined to hold back for a few moments longer, to feel the heat rise and her body as she quivered beneath me.

If I were going to leave Vicki bruised and battered, I would enjoy every one of the bruises and know how she got them. If my cock was going to feel like I had rubbed it with sandpaper, I was going to remember every stroke into her, and I would not stop with this one use of her body. I knew I wouldn't last long after being aroused for so long and I planned to do this again as soon as I recovered. I was not going to leave her after one fuck, I would need a second and probably a third before daylight, and I didn't care if I could walk the next day.