One More Notch on the Bedpost

Sherry rolled over, face down, and said, "put some on me."

I said, "you mean like massage you?"

"No, I mean like lube up my asshole. Squirt the goo on me and rub it in with your fingers. Rub in and out till I open up for you." I was shocked. Ever since I started fucking Sherry, long before we got married, she had been firm about her asshole. "It's strictly one way, exit only!" she used to tell me.

I decided to ask questions later and fuck her ass while I had the chance. I squirted a little puddle of lube beside her asshole and started to rub it in, first with one finger, then two, although the second one was still a pretty tight fit. I added more lube and swirled the fingers around, then started the up and down motion. The hole started to breathe, alternately opening up and closing down. As it opened next time I put a third finger in and squirted more down between the fingers. She was starting to hump up and down, and I started to lick around my fingers, bathing the rosebud with my tongue. At last she seemed to relax completely. I pulled out the fingers and almost broke a leg, hoisting my crotch up to align my cock with her bunghole. In it went, without even a grunt. It went halfway in on the insertion, and another thrust bottomed me out. Bottomed out on her bottom! I never thought I'd see that happen.

I held still for a few seconds, waiting for some response, but when I got none I figured it was time to fuck the forbidden hole. I started with short strokes, gradually making them longer. Finally I got the commentary I'd been waiting for: "Oh, yes, fuck my ass! Sodomize me! That's it, a little faster now. Okay, give it to me! Ram your big prick up my shitter, you buttfucker! Fuck that asshole! Ream me! Now ram it in and hold it there. I'm coming! I'm coming after you fucked my virgin ass! You fucked me to an orgasm in my ass! Did you come yet?"

"No. Almost, but not quite."

"Then don't stop. Keep fucking my ass, you bastard! Reach around and pull on my clit. Pull my clitty as you fuck my ass. Oh, I'm coming again!" And this time I joined her, as we both sailed off through the solar system together.

I collapsed on her and we both toppled over, and lay there on our left sides with my cock still in her asshole. "Just leave it in there, Ralph, Honey. Leave it in there. I don't want you to take it out. Maybe it'll still be there when we wake up in the morning. Oh, I love you, Ralph!"

"I love you, too, Sherry. And I love my new present. Thank you, Honey. I rank it right up there with your tits and cunt as one of the most exciting gifts I ever got. I'll use it often. I promise.

We were just drifting off to sleep when an idea popped into my mind that was so exciting that I had to share it right away. "Hey Sweetie, I just thought of something."

"Will it keep till morning?" came the drowsy reply.

"No! Think of the great home movies we can make of me using my new present!"

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

Friday morning came early. I could have used another hour or two in bed. The whole week I'd been getting less sleep than usual, mostly because of playing with my new present. Tony was driving, and I elected to ride in front, where I could recline the seat nearly all the way back and get some sleep. Ellie was in the back seat. She had loaded the trunk with electronics to record the dump of Edwin Smith's memory. Tony and Ellie kept up a casual, low-key conversation that blended with the road noise as I dozed, half asleep and half awake.

Thoughts about our planned memory dump tripped lightly across my semiconscious brain. Ellie and I represented two different schools of thought on this business of memory mining. I was impatient to find out what was going on in the particular criminal endeavor that Ronald Rogers was part of, in the present. It affected me and my family, but it might also affect my job, my co-workers, and our employer. But Ellie and Gordon looked at this as an unlocked window into the world of crime and they wanted to learn as much as they possibly could, including every crooked act that Rogers was ever involved in, back to kindergarten if necessary.

Ellie would be the interviewer. I'd given away the right to lead the investigation when I went to the FBI for help, and they'd jumped in with both feet, so I couldn't complain. I had wondered why Gordon decided to keep Ellie on the case as lead investigator, but during the hours we'd spent going to Patagonia and back, shooting the breeze about cases we'd worked, I found out that she was an old pro in this sort of interrogation. Women are much better at this stuff than men, because they can connect with the subject at a more basic level, taking him back to early childhood, and establish a level of trust. They can offer simple rewards, too. After a hard tussle to pull out deeply hidden memories, a few kind words and maybe a pat on the hand from a woman can help soften him up for the next secret.

Rogers had demonstrated his ability to connect with a woman on an intellectual level, and then take that attachment to the bedroom. He was so good at it that I was sure he'd done it many times before. I was equally sure that Ellie, a walking wet dream with brains, could suck the memories out of his head like a vacuum cleaner. But were we in for a fuckathon, boasts about every woman he'd ever seduced, before we'd hear about recent history?

That made me think about his month-long affair with my Sherry. I gritted my teeth thinking about that, and what torture it would be for me to listen to those details. Then without meaning to, my mind put on its detective hat and reminded me that if I displayed hostility to the prisoner I could inhibit him from telling us everything we needed to know. Thinking about hostility got me wondering if I might harden his resistance just by walking into the room, since I was the guy who broke his nose and physically captured him at his arrest. Nobody could miss the hostility behind an elbow to the face. Maybe I should just listen from the next room.

My mind drifted back to why I hated this asshole, and what he had done to Sherry. But I needed to avoid thoughts that would trigger a shot of adrenaline, and keep me wide awake. A nap would sharpen my critical thinking. So I moved onto loving thoughts about Sherry, which reminded me of last night, the gift she gave me, and what we did for hours instead of sleeping. On that pleasant note I finally dropped off to sleep.

I woke up when the wheels crunched on the gravel of Doctor Johnson's driveway. The trunk of the Taurus looked like the back room of an electronics store. Everybody grabbed two handfuls and we waddled in, avoiding contact with doors and walls. Tony the electronics man was in his world, helping Ellie to get everything hooked up and tested. While they were sorting and hooking up cables, I talked with Doctor Johnson about my potential for screwing up the session by my presence. He set me up in an adjacent room, with a reclining chair, a table where I could rest a drink, headphones to monitor the session, and a small refrigerator stocked with bottled water and assorted soft drinks. There was even an attached, private bathroom. Clearly, it was my day in the catbird seat.

I stood in an observation booth, watching through a one way mirror, when Rogers was brought in from his cell. He was erect, moving well, and responsive to suggestions. But his face was a mess. If he faced north, his nose would have pointed northeast. It didn't stick out as far as it once had, either. His face was red and blue and purple and brown fading to yellow, from his upper lip to his eyebrows, and laterally almost to his ears. My first impulse was to feel sorry for him, but the thought that pushed that one aside was smug satisfaction that I had messed him up that completely with a single blow. My squad might think of me as a desk jockey, but I hadn't lost my touch!

The doctor said that Rogers might remember Ellie from when she gave him first aid after he got hurt, and Tony, the leader of the men who had rescued him and brought him here where he could recuperate safely. Rogers smiled at them and thanked them for helping him. With those warm, friendly feelings implanted at the outset, they all sat down to have a friendly chat, while I went to the next room to listen and relax.

I could see that Doctor Johnson hadn't lost his touch with mind altering drugs in the years since his version of "better living through chemistry" had landed him in trouble with me. As a young detective I busted him as an accessory to a scam to fleece wealthy widows, but couldn't get enough evidence for a conviction. With the help of a wise old attorney, we worked out a gentlemen's agreement: he could live out his life in a place were nobody trusted him, with me ready to pounce at the slightest provocation; or else relocate to where he could put his abilities to good use and enjoy the life of a trusted professional. He's sent me a Christmas card every year since.

The "conversation" started, and Ellie led him through his teenage years, trying to get a fix on his early sexual experiences. I noticed that she leaned on two things: what he did, and how it made him feel. Then she led him to his early attempts to make his partners feel good, and from there to the first time that a girl started to request repeated sessions. I'd never have thought of starting out like that, and I admired her expertise.

Going on into his twenties, she asked him about being paid for sex, without specifying who did the paying. This brought forth a series of recollections, related with undisguised pride. He was good, he knew he was good, and nothing proved it like getting money for it. His life as a gigolo transitioned into working as an escort, then on to his earliest seduction of a woman to benefit a third party. He went into detail about the complexity of the scheme and his reluctance to get involved in it, and how that was settled by the fee being doubled. From then on, he seemed to have no misgivings about his life as a paid seducer.

The narrative to this point was studded with examples of various techniques and details of what happened, with names, places, dates, and every lick, stroke, groan, and orgasm. He was especially proud of the orgasms. Some of the time Ellie could move him along, but when he got to a woman he had made particularly happy, he insisted on telling all. Eventually she got him to take a lunch break, and excused herself to go to the bathroom. She came into my room and closed the door.

"Ralph, you'd better call Sherry and tell her we'll be going on into the evening, and you'll be lucky to get home by midnight. You might have noticed that he resisted telling me about the episode in Toledo. That's a sign that the medication is wearing off. At lunch they'll get another dose into him, and it has to have time to work. They'll probably put him down for a short nap and then we'll start again. After the afternoon session, we'll have a supper break with another dose, and then in the evening I hope I can get specifics out of him about current events. That means that the afternoon session has to get away from chronology and into episodes that bear similar characteristics.

"Bear in mind that the closer we get to his sessions with Sherry, the harder this is going to be on you. I know you've prepared yourself to try to be objective about all this, but even though you're a dedicated professional, you're going to be surprised by the amount of effort that'll take, and how wearing it will be on you. I've already talked with Sherry about this, and she understands how hard this is on you. Keep trying to tell yourself how much better you'll both feel after this case is closed."

"Yeah, as you say, it's hard, all of it. It was hard listening to how a nice young kid was gradually transformed into a serial seducer for profit. One side of my head felt bad about the job I did on his face, while another side was feeling proud of it. I feel sorry for what Sherry's been put through, violating her vows and her own standards of behavior, at the same time I'm still angry with her for falling for it. I've never had such mixed emotions. It's exhausting.

I'm impressed by your performance here, by the way. You've really got all the moves down pat. I'm glad you're on our side!"

"All in a day's work, Ralph. Years of education and specialized training, and experience, and then one day you get called on to use everything you learned. No different from your work, and I've done my homework on what you've been through to get where you are. Difficult interrogation, I get the call. Difficult detection and arrest and fact finding, that's you. And if we do our jobs right, nobody even knows our names."

Ellie opened the door and listened. Rogers was being led back to his cell for lunch. As we heard his door clanging shut in the distance, she waved her hand at me. "Let's go to lunch."

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

The afternoon session was more of the same, but different. As Ellie had told me she would, she started off on familiar ground and then picked at characteristics of an episode and asked if they came up very often. That led the Rogers away from strict historic narration, and brought up several episodes that were years apart. After following that pattern for a while, she noted a peculiarity in the reason for his being hired for one seduction, and used that to start moving the emphasis away from the seductions themselves and gradually into the business dealings of his clients. After an hour of that, she let him get back into the meat and potatoes of the seductions again. I could tell, from his voice and speech patterns, that talking business was stressful for him, and that reliving the sexual experiences relaxed and recharged him. I had to admire how she played this man, and I had the thought that if Ellie had studied the violin instead of applied psychology, she'd be playing first desk at the Boston Symphony or New York Philharmonic.

Our evening meal was to be cold, pretty much like a picnic. Assorted sandwiches, fruit and cheese, and a green salad, with iced tea and assorted soft drinks available. The menu was selected so we could have it any time it suited our lead investigator, or in other words whenever the truth serum was wearing off and Rogers needed a fix of it to keep reciting. The procedure was just like lunch. He was taken back to his cell to be fed and medicated, and while we ate he was put down for a short nap. Then he was revived and brought back to continue his "conversation" with Ellie. As before, Tony was in the interview room with Rogers, Ellie, and Doctor Johnson, and I listened on headphones from the next room.

Ellie was getting tired. What the hell, I was getting tired, and I wasn't doing anything. I guess it's just wearing on anybody who has any sensitivity at all to hear a professional sexual predator recite the details of his crimes, not displaying any shame or contrition, but rather being smug about what he'd done to hundreds of women, young and old, married and single, motivated almost entirely by money.

An interesting thing happened when we were just about finished eating supper. We had been talking about our prisoner and what he had revealed so far, and it finally got too much for Ellie. She started to sniffle and although she had been in the middle of saying something, she stopped talking and seemed about to break down. Tony was sitting next to her and he reached over to her and pulled her to where she could put her head on his shoulder. She started to bawl like a baby. Tony, the stereotypical tough cop, stroked her hair and said little comforting things, like "There, there," and "That's all right, let it out. You can cry all you want. We're your friends." And then he made a statement that ought to be on a plaque somewhere: "It's okay. Psychologists have feelings, too, just like policemen."

When the crying was over, Tony took out a handkerchief and wiped her tears away as gently as if she were a tiny baby. Ellie looked at him, then turned to me. "You must think I'm a failure. I try to be detached and objective but sometimes it's just too hard."

I reached over and took her hand in mine. "We're your friends. What you're feeling, we're feeling, too. If we ever get too hardened to feel for the victims of the crimes, we'll have lost our humanity. Then who will be left to stand up for what's right?"

She brightened a little, even tried unsuccessfully to smile. "If the word gets out about this, I'll be so embarrassed."

"Ellie, there are a lot of things that happen here that are never going to be mentioned outside these four walls. Your private thoughts and feelings are safe." Then, as an afterthought, I added, "What happens in Patagonia stays in Patagonia." That brought out a tiny smile, and she went into my private bathroom to freshen up.

Pretty soon Doctor Johnson rejoined us and Rogers was brought back, so we could start the final session. Again Ellie took the lead, complimenting Rogers on his excellent memory, and telling him that the things he had told her were going to help her so much in her work as a psychologist. He swallowed that whole. Along with reducing his inhibitions, the medication had dulled his ability to think critically about anything that was said to him, so until it wore off he had no interest in discriminating between truth and bullshit.

Ellie wanted to wrap this up, as we all did by then, and she moved the session along at a brisk pace. Finally she got to what we wanted to know.

"How long have you been in Arizona?"

"Since last winter. I flew to Phoenix in January. My contract runs for one year."

"You're under contract?" He nodded. "To whom?"

"The name of the company is the Legion for Morality in Government."

"Is that just a front for some wealthy sponsor?"

"Yes. The man who runs it is named Grover Lippincott. He has a lot of money."

"Do you know what else Grover Lippincott does?"

"He has done a lot of things for Phoenix and for Arizona. Right now he's the state police commissioner."

"And exactly what does your contract say that you will do for Mister Lippincott?"

"It's all in the kind of language that lawyers use, but it calls for me to perform personal services at Mister Lippincott's direction, with people that he will specify."

"How much are you being paid to perform these services?"

"All my expenses are covered, and on top of that I get two thousand dollars a week."

"When you arrived in January, what did you do first for Mister Lippincott?"

"First he wanted me to seduce a lady who works in the Governor's office. Her name is Gwen. He didn't say why, but I thought maybe he was testing me to see if I could really do it. So I did. It took a while, but by March I was fucking her just about every day. She isn't married, so we could spend all our weekends together, mostly in bed."

"What kinds of sex acts did you do with her?"

"Oral sex, regular straight fucking in a lot of different positions, and anal sex."

"Did she enjoy all this sex?"

"Oh, yes. A whole lot. I still spend a lot of weekends with her. She just loves it all."

"So you get to spend a lot of time in her home, I suppose."

"Yes. Sometimes I stay there while she's at work. I have my own key to her house."

"Have you done anything else in her house?"

"Yes. I planted microphones and video cameras in all the rooms that she spends very much time in. There are two recording devices there, too, and every week I pick them up and leave two blank ones in their place."

"And what do you do with the ones you picked up?"

"I give them to George. He works for Mister Lippincott. He know about all kinds of spyware. That's what he calls it, the things to pick up and record audio and video. Sometimes he calls them bugs, audio bugs and video bugs."