The Queen and the Soldier

She parked her Porsche outside an all-women nightclub called "The Siren's Cave." She hadn't been there in over a year, but she was sure the same couple owned and ran the place. When Shannon got out, she appeared to recognize the place. "Been here before?" asked Sandra. "On a date maybe?" she added with a smile.

Shannon's smile was much softer. "Nuh-... no. On a cuh-... case," the woman corrected.

The two of them walked up to the door. There was a hulking, almost mannish female at the door. She had to be almost six-feet, four-inches tall and looked to way close to two hundred pounds of solid muscle. Sandra recognized her right away. That was Ruby, and she had been working the door at the club for at least five years. If you weren't supposed to come in, Ruby stopped you. Apparently, Ruby wasn't her real name. It was short for Rubicon, and it meant that she was someone you just didn't cross.

"May I . . ." the woman started in a husky sounding voice. "Ms. Lopez?"

"Hi Ruby. It's been a while."

The mountain of a woman picked up Sandra and gave her a big hug. The woman apparently didn't cling to uptown etiquette. "Tara and Mia were just saying the other day that it'd been too long since we saw you in these parts," she said, referring to the club's owners. Sandra had been in their bed once or twice on her way up the corporate ladder, and she had always enjoyed their company and had been a valuable patron in times of need.

"I'd love to talk to them if they're here tonight." It was a silly question. Those two were always here. They literally lived here.

"I'll let 'em know you're here. And I see you've got a guest." Ruby noticed that there was someone standing close behind Sandra, and that whoever it was had a cap with a police insignia on it. "And a cop? Who . . ." Sandra stepped aside to reveal Shannon, and Ruby had stopped in mid-objection. Did the huge woman recognize the officer, or was she just sizing her up? "I'll have to ask that you remove the cap ma'am," Ruby said at last. "We don't have much of a dress code, but nothin' that screams gang member or cop. Those tend to make folks a bit nervous."

Shannon removed her cap, letting her red hair flow. It was then that Sandra noticed a small scar just below the hairline that was usually covered when the cap was on. Shannon actually brushed her hair down in front of that spot as soon as she realized it was exposed. Then she borrowed the keys and went to put the cap back in the car.

Ruby watched her go. "Not someone I'd expect you to be showin' up with, but what do I know?"

"You know her?"

"Oh yeah. She showed up here a year ago to investigate a robbery that went bad."

"I remember that," Sandra said.

"Well, I wasn't keen on cops, but Mia had told me to make sure to make myself available to her. She wandered around and looked at stuff . . . took a damn long time," Ruby said. Sandra smiled. She remembered what that felt like. "Meanwhile, a couple bulls decided they wanted to leave even though they'd been told to stick around until the police talked to 'em. They bum-rushed the girl at the door . . . they were going to jack her up something bad . . ."

Sandra interrupted her. "But Shannon stopped them?"

"Is that her name? If it is, then yeah, she stopped them. Never saw anyone move like that in my life." They stopped talking about the officer as she returned to the door. "So, where you want to sit? Top tier?"

"If you've got space available."

"For you . . . always. Not many people get allowed up there these days. Tara and Mia have gotten picky." Ruby called another woman over who would escort them to their table.

The inside of "The Siren's Cave" was an architectural marvel. There was a round stage in the middle of a round dance floor, and there was always a live band performing. There was a single, long bar that encircled almost half of the bottom floor. There was also a spiral walkway that wound its way around the walls. Periodically it would level itself off for a bit and widen, leaving room for tables. A clear, tough-plastic mesh kept drunk people from wandering off the edge. There were about ten leveled-off points or "tiers" on their way up, each tier a little smaller than the last. And the more important you were or the more the owners liked you, the farther up you got to sit. The top tier was actually a platform of clear, thick plastic that protruded into the air about fifty feet over the stage. It was also surrounded by a clear plastic cage, and was generally reserved for preferred guests. Sandra apparently still qualified. They made there way up the long winding road to their table. The club actually had a golf cart that would drive you up, but Sandra wanted to take in the view. They finally arrived, and took a seat at one of only four tables on the tier.

Shannon was able to look straight down on the band through the clear plastic floor. She wondered if that might be a good time to mention that heights made her uncomfortable. She tried to concentrate on the music, which was all right, and on trying to have a pleasant . . . outing.

Sandra ordered a martini and Shannon got a Long Island iced tea. She was wondering if they should both be drinking. She might be forced to arrest both of them if they attempted to drive home.

"Don't worry. We can call a cab," said Sandra, reading her "date's" thoughts. They sat in an awkward silence for a moment. Sandra didn't want to "thank" Shannon again, as that would sound repetitive. 'This used to be so much easier,' she thought. 'Well, I guess we can try doing this the old fashioned way.'

"So," she continued. "Tell me about yourself. Where are you from? Tell me about your family. Tell me . . ." Sandra stopped. So far, each statement or question she had made had fallen almost like physical blows on Shannon's face. Apparently, there were some wounds there. She didn't know then how many wounds there actually were. "Sorry. Well, let me tell you about . . . me." Sandra talked about her parents, their business and her life growing up. She talked about her brothers, sisters and cousins. She talked about her schooling, her climb up the ladder of success and her work. Sandra even made reference to the fact that she had used an escort service. Shannon seemed to be listening intently, almost as if she expected to be quizzed on this later. The admission about the escort service got a brief reaction from Shannon, but she quickly regained composure.

The redhead's face had softened a bit. It had been a really long time since she had done this . . . just sitting with someone and getting to know them. She liked it. And Sandra seemed to be being very open and honest with her. She wondered how much she should share.

"And so I had just gotten back from Texas when I found some guy murdered on my floor," Sandra was saying. Then a new voice broke through the din.

"We had heard about that and had planned on calling you," the voice said. Sandra and Shannon turned and saw the owners of the club. The speaker was Mia, a short woman (only five feet tall) with short, spiked black hair, a decent set of curves and piercings all over her stern face. Tara was a foot taller than her counterpart, thin and flat, but with a beautiful face and long black hair. They didn't make sense as a couple, at least not until you actually met them.

The two of them seemed intimately familiar with Sandra, and both greeted her warmly and briefly discussed her recent tragedy. Shannon just pushed herself into what shadows she could and hoped they didn't notice her. She was just beginning to think up polite excuses to leave when the owners had to go and greet some other patrons. Sandra kissed both women on the cheek before they left. Then she and Shannon were alone again.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

"Luh-... listen, if you'd rather vuh-... visit . . ."

"Don't be silly. I came here to get to know you, and that's what I'd like to do. I understand if you're not ready to tell me everything, but tell me something. Anything. Just as long as it's about you."

Shannon sipped at her drink again. "I . . . I've used that escort suh-... service too." She waited for some kind of "oh my god" reaction, but none came. That gave her some confidence. "I've got a tuh-... turtle. His nuh-. . . name is muh-. . . Mr. Ages." Sandra looked puzzled for a moment, then started to laugh. Shannon started laughing right along. It had sounded rather silly. Then she slowly talked about her job, which university she had attended, her job, stupid criminals she had helped catch or had heard about, her workout routine (which got Sandra tired while just thinking about it), and her hobbies, which included collecting stamps, playing solitaire and fishing.

Sandra noticed that all the things that Shannon did were generally done alone. And she had also picked up on the fact that her companion didn't talk about anything from before the age of eighteen. Nothing about her family or where she had come from . . . just nothing. But the girl was obviously not used to being open, and Sandra decided not to push the issue. She would have time for that later. Sandra scooted over until she was sitting right next to Shannon. That seemed to make the girl nervous again. Finally, Sandra asked about the article she had read in the police station, and she got a good glimpse into the soul of the woman sitting next to her.

Shannon told her about her first year in CSI. She had been struggling to fit in and earn the respect of her peers. A number of the cops were from the Good-Old-Boy club. Some resented her for being a woman or for getting such a "cushy" position at such a young age. But when people figured out that she was gay, partially due to her complete lack of interest in their slimy advances, things got ugly. Notes were left on her locker with repulsive pictures or comments on them. People snickered at her behind her back. A couple of the beat cops and one detective were even heard saying that they wished they could find a way of getting rid of her. Much to Sandra's surprise, that one detective had been Bobby. Shannon acknowledged that she had been shaken up by the harassment, but hadn't ratted anyone out or complained. She had wanted to prove that she could take care of herself. Then that night at the murder scene had come. The first officers on the scene had screwed up the initial walkthrough, and the killer had come out of the closet with every intention of killing at least one more person. He had targeted Detective Jones. Shannon hadn't even thought about it. She had moved to interfere and took a bullet high in the chest for her trouble. She disarmed the guy (by breaking his wrist) and then hip-threw him into the sliding glass door. Then she had collapsed on the grungy kitchen tile. What she told Sandra next almost broke the woman's heart: Shannon had half expected the other officers just to let her die. She knew what they thought of her and that they had wanted to see her gone. That was their chance. She remembered thinking that it didn't hurt like she thought it would. Of course, that was because she had been in shock. But she had picked up her head, stared at the assembled officers and then let it rest in a pool of her own blood. She lay there and waited for the end.

But she had underestimated something. Despite their bigotry, their differences and their attitudes, a cop was still a cop. They were a strangely loyal breed when one of their own was threatened, even if the threatened member wasn't popular to begin with. The last thing Shannon remembered hearing was someone screaming "Officer down! I repeat, officer down!" at the top of his voice. All the cops had come to visit her in the hospital, even the ones who had insulted her sexuality. But Bobby had come by every day. She hadn't asked him to. And he had changed somehow. He brought his wife by once, but she had broken down crying. Shannon had thought that odd, but Sandra understood. Shannon had saved the woman's husband's life. How do you thank someone for something like that? How can you ever repay someone for that kind of debt? Shannon skipped a bunch of stuff after that, but apparently Bobby had become one of her only friends as well as her staunchest ally in the department. She never was harassed again after that night.

Sandra was a little bit humbled by it all. "Why did you think they would just leave you? I mean, I've known a lot of bigots, but it's a big step between narrow-minded and being outright evil."

Shannon glanced at her now empty glass. She was wondering if she really should have drunk that much. She was a lightweight and she knew it. She couldn't even look at Sandra when she responded. "It's juh-... just something puh-... people duh-... do."

Sandra didn't quite understand that statement at the time. But she got the distinct impression that Shannon had said more than she had originally intended. Sandra had made headway, but it left her wanting more. What had happened to this woman that caused her to have so little faith in mankind?

They sat in silence again, this time very uncomfortable. The only reason Shannon had discussed the issue was that it was something to talk about and Sandra already knew the basics. Now, she felt like the dark-haired woman was just staring at her . . . probably feeling sorry for her.

Shannon asked the waitress for some orange juice while Sandra ordered another martini. They were both trying to think of something safe to talk about.

"So," said Sandra with a ridiculous grin. "Tell me about your turtle . . . "

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A few hours later . . .

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They were both laughing when they made their way out of the club. Shannon was still easily sober enough to drive. Sandra gave Ruby a hug on the way out of the door, then they got into her car. She knew that Shannon was at the beginning of her days off (she worked four days on then three off), and that the redhead had nowhere to be. When Shannon had started talking about her turtle Mr. Ages, Sandra had been watching. Her stutter became less pronounced as she got more comfortable, and she got more comfortable by not talking about her past. She was an odd woman, but Sandra found herself increasing attracted to her. She had listened to the tale of how Shannon found Mr. Ages trying to cross the road on her way up to a remote fishing hold. Shannon would apparently rent a car once a month, grab her fishing gear and disappear for a couple of days. She had almost hit Mr. Ages on the trip up. She had stopped and helped the reptile across the road, then continued on her way. Then she had encountered the same turtle on her way home, trying to cross back across the road in the same place. Shannon felt sorry for anything more lost and confused than she was, so she just adopted the animal. After that, the two talked a little more freely, including about the simple things such as favorite movies, types of music and books.

Shannon had been talking about something or another towards the end, but Sandra had just been watching those lips. Sandra wondered what they would look like with a little lipstick. When Shannon was looking away, Sandra moved in. Shannon turned her head back and the two women's lips met. It was a strange first kiss. Shannon obviously wasn't sure what to do, but Sandra knew EXACTLY what she wanted. She had kept her lips pressed against Shannon's, and had slowly teased the woman's lips apart with her tongue, finally tasting the inside of the officer's mouth.

After a minute, she felt the woman tentatively kissing her back. That was when she had whispered, "I'd really like for you to go home with me." A few minutes later, they were in the car. Shannon, unfamiliar with the subtleties involved in driving a high-performance automobile, had driven annoying slowly, but finally they had arrived at Sandra's company condo. Shannon was noticeably nervous as Sandra took her to the elevator and up to her floor.

Shannon was feeling very much out of her league when she saw Sandra's "back-up" place. The cops had given her the okay to move back to her house, but Sandra had been a little leery of doing so. 'The entertainment center probably costs more than everything I own,' Shannon thought to herself. And the bed was huge! Sandra led her into the bedroom. Shannon could scarcely believe this was happening. Then Sandra took her earrings off. Next, she sat on the bed and kicked off her heels. Meanwhile, Shannon just stood in the corner of the room, wishing she could vanish into the shadows.

Sandra saw her standing there nervously. This was going much more awkwardly than her dates used to go. "Hey, why don't you come sit over here next to me?"

Shannon shuffled over in a not-particularly-sexy manner and sat down on the bed, wringing her hands nervously. "Suh-... suh-... sorry. I'm nuh-... not vuh-... very guh-... good at thuh-... this."

Sandra stopped undressing. Usually people were anxious to get into her bed. Shannon apparently was terrified.

"Listen, is there anyway I could make you more comfortable?" She kissed Shannon on the lips again, and there was less hesitation than there had been before.

"Cuh-... could wuh-... wuh-... wuh-..." Shannon seemed to be stuck. Sandra gave her another kiss, just to try and 'jump-start' her. ". . . we turn off the lights?" Shannon finished in one explosive breath.

Sandra placed the palm of one hand against Shannon's face, tracing on of the dark circles under the girl's eye with her thumb. 'What are you hiding?' she thought. Sandra stood up and wandered over to the light-switch. Before she switched it off, she let her blouse tumble to the floor, giving Shannon a good view of her dark skin and the swell of her breasts against her lacey bra. She saw Shannon take a deep breath and then swallow. Then, the lights were out.

Sandra finished undressing next to the door, then slowly made her way back in the direction of the bed. She bumped into the corner before sitting down next to Shannon. She reached an arm out and encountered her would-be lover, still dressed in her sweats.

"May I?" she asked, running her hands down Shannon's body to the edge of the sweatshirt. "I can't hear you nodding." She heard a low, nervous 'yes,' so she continued. Shannon seemed to raise her arms, letting Sandra pull the garment off. Then Sandra let her hands feel their way back down. Each touch seemed to send tremors through Shannon's body. Sandra hoped they were good tremors. But Sandra was distracted by the body underneath her hands. It was perfect! There was almost no excess body-fat to speak of, and the muscles were all hard and straining against the skin. Sandra felt a taut four-pack of abdominals, which clenched involuntarily under her soft touch. Shannon's breasts fit into Sandra's hands perfectly, with aureole the size of a quarter and soft, soft nipples. Sandra would be they were perfectly pink. 'Why are you hiding this body?' she thought as she leaned Shannon back onto the bed. 'If I had this body, I'd show it off to everyone!' She hooked her thumbs into the woman's sweatpants and drew them, and an undoubtedly ugly pair of cotton panties, down to the ground. Thankfully, Shannon had already kicked off her shoes, letting Sandra get rid of the offending garments quickly. Just as she had done with Shannon's upper body, Sandra felt her way up the girl's lower body. She had perfect, muscular calves, tight thighs, narrow hips and powerful buttocks. Sandra moved her hands inward, touching the nicely groomed triangle above the Promised Land. Her hands drifted a little lower and she felt the clitoral hood. She passed by that, running her thumbs along the swollen outer lips until they ended. The traced one finger from the bottom of the slot to the sphincter nestled between those muscular cheeks. That got a bit of a panic jump out of the woman, so Sandra let it be. For the time being.