Legally Bound

"Oh, that's OK, don't worry about it, thanks for calling and letting me know. Sure, Tuesday at one fifteen works, I'll see you then. Bye now."

"Alright, sweetie, my last appointment just cancelled, time to crack that merlot!"

Lena was already one step ahead, as usual. Out behind the salon on the makeshift patio, she already had two glasses poured as she watched the long rays of the evening sun sparkle off of her fresh pedicure. It never seemed that Kim and her spent enough time together, and the extra couple of hours that Kim's cancellation bought them both was a welcome little bonus on a gorgeous Friday evening. The two had been friends for years, more than that for a time. Lena had been only eighteen when Kim and her husband approached her about joining them in a threesome, and things had been going great for nearly a year until Kim's husband, Vince, started to come onto Lena outside the confines of their arrangement, which she rebuffed immediately. Lena was far more interested in Kim as a lover, and tolerated Vince's ego and porno movie approach to the relationship for the sake of being able to be with Kim. After being turned down by Lena, he did what he could to end their relationship, but Kim and Lena remained friends. Years later, he still became paranoid any time the two girls did anything together, fearing that he was being left out.

The deep rumble of the dark green GTO resonated down the narrow street of the old industrial neighborhood. On either side, fresh, new shops alternated with abandoned stores, a neighborhood that tried hard to keep it's dignity in spite of the encrouching blight of crack dealers and meth whores. It was the neighborhood Ken Sinclair grew up in, and had returned to. Sometimes, even after seventeen years, he still had to remind himself that he was a cop. An off duty cop at the moment, but a cop nonetheless. As he saw the scrawny prostitute rattling the doors on the businesses along the street as she stumbled along in a meth induced stupor, part of him just wanted to keep driving; there were cold ones in the fridge less than two minutes away, and it had been a long, hot day. But he sucked it up and pulled over, knowing who the whore was, knowing she was HIV positive, that she'd stink like a sewage lagoon, and cause nothing but grief for anyone behind an unlocked door, which she found at the salon Kim worked at.

"Did you hear that? It sounded like someone just came in the front door, Fuck, I forgot to lock up!" Kim rushed back into the shop, and saw the whore hammering her scabby fist against the cash register.

"Get the fuck out of here, you smelly fucking pig! I'm calling the cops!" Kim scrambled for her cell phone, just as Sinclair ran in through the door. Knowing the crazy bitch would try to bite whoever got hold of her, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her head, and dragged her back into the street, resisting the urge to throw her into a dumpster. She stumbled off screaming as Sinclair turned back into the salon.

"Everthing OK in here?" he called out as Kim and Lena came out from the back. Seeing Kim, he let a broad smile cross his weary face.

"Ken? My God, how long has it been?" She threw her arms open, as Sinclair happily embraced her.

"Five years in November," he replied as he felt Kim's ample chest pressing against his, squeezing just a little tighter to savor the moment. It had been that long since he'd sold his house that was on the same block that Kim and Vince lived on and moved back to the Northside.

"Hey, Lena, this is Ken, he used to be my neighbor, Ken, this is Lena, my friend and sweetie."

Sinclair shook Lena's hand warmly. He recognized her, but decided not to show his cards, discretion being the better part of valor.

"Nice to meet you, Lena", he said after the briefest pause, looking directly into her eyes as she quickly glanced away, wondering if he knew something she didn't.

"You know, Kim, you should really keep things locked up after five or so. There are some people in the area you really don't want to deal with."

Kim knew she'd fucked up by not locking the door after the last customer had left, and promised not to let it happen again.

"So, we just cracked a bottle of wine if you'd like a glass", Lena asked Sinclair, trying hard not to make the fact she was totally checking him out too obvious.

"That actually sounds really good, but if I start drinking wine now, those cold Kokanees in my fridge are going to get jealous and make things rough on me tomorrow morning, if ya know what I mean. Why don't you ladies finish that bottle up and come over to my place. It's just a few blocks away, and I'd love to catch up, Kim. It's been too long."

"I'd love to, you cool with that, Lena?" Before she could even answer, Kim was writing Sinclair's address down, and the look on Lena's face made it clear that she was very cool with that.

"So, what is HIS story?" Lena purred as Sinclair's GTO rumbled off.

"Ken is a sweet guy. He's a cop, and he was our neighbor for eight years. His wife was a real sweetheart too.....fuck, she wound up with lymphoma. Ken took a leave of absence from the force and took her travelling for as long as she was healthy enough. She knew what was coming, though, and drove herself into a concrete bridge divider before the worst of it came. She didn't want to put him through that. He took it pretty hard, but I think she did the right thing."

Sinclair had taken the loss of his wife badly; worse than even those closest to him could have known. Evie had been the One, and to have such a strong, vibrant woman screwed out of her life by some fucking disease would be something that he knew he'd have to deal with for the rest of his life. Having to deal with people like that useless fucking whore he'd thrown out of Kim's salon was just a daily twist of the knife. She was the daughter of a prominent architect who never seemed to get enough of pissing off her parents, went out of her way to find the worst trash to hang out with, and now was a walking biohazard. He cranked the hot water in his shower until it was as hot as he could bear it and was finally able to start relaxing as the faint stench that clung to him having barely touched her was washed from his body. Soaping himself down, his thoughts returned to his old neighbor, Kim, and her knockout pal Lena. He knew about the thing they had going on; Kim's husband Vince was the kind of guy who would brag to anyone who could stand being around him about his exploits. One afternoon after he'd helped Vince get his lawn mower running, (it was out of gas), they'd kicked back a few and Vince figured he'd impress him by showing him a videotape of one of their particularly intense sessions. In the few seconds that he watched what was on Vince's massive projection screen, he saw Kim and a barely eighteen year old Lena going at it hot and heavy, Lena kissing and sucking Kim's gorgeous tits as Vince came in from the side of the scene and started jacking off on his wife's face. Vince turned to him and started suggesting that maybe Evie and Kim might like to......and the look Sinclair gave him made it perfectly clear that he should probably shut his fucking mouth. He got up and asked Vince what the fuck he ever did to deserve a woman like Kim, and walked out.

Kim and Lena had a barely legal buzz going by the time they drove to Sinclair's little wartime house, The Doors' "L.A. Woman" cranking out of the stereo as they held hands and sang along. As Sinclair got out of the shower, he could hear the two pull up, singing "Mister Mo-Jo Risin'" as they walked up the pathway toward his house. Nearly breaking into laughter, he wondered if they knew how appropriate their little serenade actually was; Mister Mo-Jo had indeed been risin' after thinking about the two of them together and was now throbbing and carbide hard.

"Hello-oh! Anybody home?" the two called out in unison through the screen door.

"Come on in, I'll be out in a minute!", Sinclair hollered out to them, flustered by his out of control hard-on, and realizing he had nothing but a towel to cover up with. "Uh, help yourselves to anything in the fridge, there's beers and some barbequed chicken if you're hungry." He thought he'd be able to sneak into his bedroom quickly if they were checking out the contents of his refrigerator. He thought wrong.

"Did we, um, interupt anything?" Kim asked after a brief, open mouthed pause, looking back up at Sinclair's face after her query. Lena stood dumbfounded, Kim nudging her to bring her back to some semblance of decorum.

"No, sorry, uh, oh shit, Kim, get me a beer, will ya?" Sinclair stuttered, breaking into nervous laughter as he tightened the towel around himself and scooted off into his room like a little kid. He didn't want to come off like some kind of sleazy jerk, and it really was all innocent, just one of those things. He took a little sigh of relief when he remembered that Vince constantly walked around the house like that when Kim had friends over, so she was no doubt used to it. He could hear them rooting through the fridge, giggling, so he couldn't have freaked them out too badly.

"Fuck, what a body!", Lena said in a semi-hushed tone that actually made her more audible, "And he's (again, trying to be even quieter) fucking HUGE!"

"SHHHHH! Jesus Christ, not so fucking loud!", Kim whispered, louder than if she'd just said it in a normal, conversational tone, as the two started giggling and took their beers and the plate of chicken to the kitchen table. Sinclair could hear all of it, and would have pissed himself laughing if he wasn't such a cordial host, and he didn't have that wicked fucking erection.

Sinclair got himself dressed and got his prick somewhat under control and came out to find Kim and Lena sitting at the table devouring the chicken he'd cooked up the night before. Kim turned and handed him a Kokanee, frosty cold and smeared with barbeque sauce.

"I'd forgotten what a great cook you were, Ken, this chicken is awesome!" Kim said with as much sauce on her face as she had on her hands. Lena nodded in agreement, unable to get out more than a satisfied "mmmmmmm" with her mouth full.

"Yeah, the secret is that Vietnamese hot sauce, I get it up at that Asian Market. I love that place, every time I go in there, that old gal that works there makes a point of telling me (assuming a remarkably accurate Vietmamese accent), "Yeau neau, deah eez noh Veetnameez twranslehshun foh KEHN!!"

Whether it was the authenticity of his accent, or the way he spat out his own name as if clearing his sinuses, Lena, who had been taking a swig of her beer, cracked up and blew the mouthful of frosty suds all over herself. Kim made a crack about not being able to take her anywhere nice, shaking her head in mock disgust. Sinclair sat down and picked up a piece of chicken, and tried to remember the last time he had such charming company over for supper.

While finishing all of the chicken, as well as most of his other leftovers and a six-pack of Kokanee, the three had settled into one of those intense conversations usually reserved for philosophy majors. Sinclair was impressed by Lena's clarity and depth of thought, in spite of her slightly spinny facade. Kim was basking in the experience; more often than not, Vince would be trampling over any conversation they would have with anyone, constantly interrupting like a spoiled eight year old in order to be the center of attention. Sinclair simply rode it like a wave, he had few people he could speak this openly with, not since his partner on the force, Terry Grey Wolf, had moved back to Saskatchewan. His new partner was a good kid, but still full of macho spunk, and at this point, didn't quite get The Big Picture.

If there was one thing about his little pad that Sinclair found tough to deal with, though, was that in the summer it got as hot as hell in there. The three of them were starting to wilt slightly when he suggested they retire to the basement, besides, there was a fridge full of beer and a pool table and his stereo down there. The girls were all over that idea, and the three of them retired to what Lena referred to as his "man cave", the temperature dropping a couple of degrees with every step downward.

It actually did have a bit of a "cave" atmosphere down there; pleasantly dim and deliciously cool, with comfortable, plush furniture. It was almost the perfect adolescent hangout with the pool table and a vintage pinball machine, but the details were anything but juvenile. The quality of the woodwork was stunning, the stereo was a monstrously expensive audiophile rig, and in the corner was a top of the line personal workout system. As Sinclair put Santana's "Abraxas" on the turntable, the girls sank into the calfskin sofa, simultaneously emitting a delighted "AHHHHHHH!" as they did.

Sinclair handed each of them an ice cold Corona, each topped with a slice of lime as he sat down across from them. He couldn't help but notice that Kim's blouse had somehow opened up by the span of a couple of buttons as she leaned forward to put her beer down on the coffee table. Her breasts were definitely larger than they had been when they were neighbors, and they spilled over the cups of her lace bra in a most delicious manner. He also couldn't help but notice that there was a joint tucked just under the lace strap.

"You know, Kim, you ARE in a cop's house. What is that sticking out of your bra there?" Sinclair was only half serious.

Kim looked down at her cleavage, holding her blouse away from her as she did. She'd completely forgotten that she'd twisted one up to smoke with Lena after work, and yeah, she was busted. She really was embarassed, and pulled it out and handed it to Sinclair.

"Sorry, Ken, I really didn't mean to put you into an uncomfortable spot."

Sinclair took the spliff and sniffed it, then asked her if it was Vince's weed.

"Yeah, fuck, Ken, I really am sorry...."

Sinclair tossed it into a wastebasket as he got up and pulled out an ornate wooden box out of a cabinet beside the pinball machine. He sat it on the floor next to the coffee table, then looked at Kim with a dead serious look on his face.

"Listen, don't bring that shit into my house, OK?" Sinclair had dropped the tone of his voice, and both Kim and Lena looked nervous and ashamed.

"You are MY guests, and for you to put me in that position is really, really not cool."

He opened up the wooden box and pulled out a small silver container and looked Kim in the eye, telling her, "Vince thinks that that crap he smokes is the best that can be had, but I'll tell you, it's garbage. So rather than stinking up my house with that ragweed, Check THIS out.

Kim and Lena were astonished as Sinclair opened the silver container and proceeded to twist a fat spliff in a nearly transparent French Chantecler paper. Sinclair started chuckling to himself, and as soon as the relief had sunk in, the two girls started swearing at him, calling him a bastard for scaring the shit out of them.

"OK, does that mean I have to smoke this myself?" Sinclair asked in a cavalier manner as he sparked it up and took a huge drag. As Lena snatched it from his hand, Kim grabbed the pillow from the end of the couch and started pummelling him mercilessly.....................

"What the fuck year are you living in, Lena? Tahiti Treat? What, are you just going to ride your ten speed back to the Amazing Year Nineteen Seventy Five and pick us up a six pack of Tahiti Fucking Treat?!" Kim looked over at Sinclair and broke up into absolute hysterics. Lena had a slightly disappointed look on her face until she finally figured out that she hadn't had a bottle of Tahiti Treat since she started wearing a bra, and joined Kim in the mad pursuit of not pissing themselves laughing.

Sinclair was as ripped as his guests, and man, they were ripped. They'd only finished half of the joint, but it was enough of what they were smoking. The two women had gotten barefoot and were grooving out to the smouldering latin beat being pumped out of the stereo. This was something he certainly didn't see coming earlier in the day while he was dragging that wife beater out of his house while his wife screamed at him to 'Leave my baby alone!' No, the true buzz here was seeing these two babes circling each other, eyes locked as their hands skimmed over the other's body. Lena put her face into Kim's cleavage and started pulling buttons open. Kim put her hands into the small of her back, pushing her breasts forward into Lena's face. Lena reached down into her shorts and started rubbing herself, moaning as she did. As the record ended, they separated, bowed, and skipped back to the couch.

"I'd better flip that record over, NOW!" Sinclair blurted out as he got up, his prick aching, but by now he just didn't care. These

two didn't care, far from it. Lena wasn't hiding the fact she was staring right at his bulging crotch, and Kim's blouse was now completely unbuttoned, and she was only a small bounce away from spilling out of her bra altogether. He dropped the needle into the groove and sat down between the two.

"Truth or Dare! We should play truth or dare!" Lena was really pleased with her idea, and Kim jumped right in.

"C'mon Ken, It'll be FUN!" She nuzzled up to him as if she was five, and shmoozing for a bedtime story.

"Christ, why not?" Sinclair resigned joyfully, not wanting to change the flow of things

"OK, Ken first!" Lena blurted out. "Truth.......or.......Dare!"

"OK, OK. Ummmmmmmm......truth."

"OK, where did you get that weed?" Kim stated in her best 'bad cop' voice.

"Fuck! I knew it! I can't tell you that! Shit!"

"TRUTH!! WE WANT THE TRUTH!!", the two girls chanted simultaneously.

"OK, it comes from a ghost town in Saskatchewan." Sinclair knew it sounded ridiculous, but it was true.

Kim and Lena looked at each other, then back at Sinclair.

"Really?" they both asked, slightly disappointed by Sinclair's answer.

"Really. I know a guy out there. His family has land with an old townsite on it. A few years ago some rich hippie kids started growing organic vegetables in this solar and wind powered facility they built in the townsite. They were doing pretty good, but things went for shit when they lost their investment capitol in the stockmarket, and their parents refused to bail them out. My buddy moved in a complete hydroponic rig that his cousin had set up on the Morley Reserve. It was too close to Calgary, though, so Middle of Nowhere, Saskatchewan is where the operation is now. My turn. Kim. Truth.....or dare." Sinclair looked at her with a nasty little smirk.

".......hmmmm.....Truth."

"How come your tits seem a lot bigger than they once did, Kim?"

"Because they ARE bigger. Vince just wouldn't shut up about it. I would have never done it on my own. They ARE huge, and yeah, they get a lot of attention, but there is just some things they can't handle anymore; things I really, really liked to do." Kim surprised herself with her own candor. Unfortunately, after her augmentation, she had lost a lot of sensation in her nipples, and if her tits were squeezed too hard or bound, they'd hurt like hell, and not in a good way.

"OK, Lena, your turn, Truth, or Dare?" Kim turned and looked her pal dead in the eye, knowing that whatever the category, Lena would deliver.

"I'll keep with tradition. Truth."

Kim stood and looked down at Lena and Sinclair. Kim knew she could ask Lena anything, and she would answer without hesitation. She might as well make it a good one.

"OK, Lena. Describe the biggest cock you've ever sucked.

The vibe was instantly kicked up a notch, Sinclair could feel it. His prick was just starting to ooze, and now he was about to listen to this absolute knockout go off about sucking cock.

"The subject was a twenty five year old circumcised male caucasion of Mediterranian descent...."