TnT Ch. 03

Even with the bad video quality, the detective was able to make out two blurred forms in the front of the truck. The driver was male, with dark hair, clad in a light-toned shirt. The front-seat passenger was female, with blonde hair.

Sylvia Gonzales, Riaz instantly deduced. His heart thumped.

The man stepped out, and Riaz pressed pause. He could not make out any clear features, but he was able to gather an impression of the man. He looked young, around mid-twenties. His hair was a thick black mass around his head, obscuring, from the camera's angle, any good look at his features. He seemed fit and slender, wearing a short-sleeved shirt that revealed a serpentine-shaped tattoo on his right arm.

Pressing play once, more, Riaz watched as the man stepped along the length of the SUV and disappeared off camera. The detective could not see the woman get out, nor the door to which they had gone. The back quarter of the vehicle was off screen.

Riaz straightened, contemplating. This is my guy, he thought. Has to be. He pushed fast-forward again, watching the time stamp as it raced through the minutes. Nearly an hour and a half went by before a sudden glow reflected off the glossy paint of the Toyota. It was the light spilling from the open motel room door just beyond the camera's field of view. Riaz pressed play once more, and watched.

The black SUV rocked slightly, then the same slender, dark-haired man stepped around, smoking a cigarette. He paused by the driver-side door to flick the butt away. Even with the poor quality, Riaz could make out the smile on the young man's face.

The detective's face twitched ever so slightly. You're a smug little punk, aren't you? he thought.

A moment later, the man opened the door to the Toyota and slid behind the wheel. The vehicle drove off screen a few seconds later.

Riaz pushed the eject button and pulled the tape from the machine when it popped up. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said to the slovenly woman as he stepped out of the booth.

"Yeah, yeah . . . hey! Where you going with my tape?"

Outside by the parked sedan, Riaz found June leaning against the car, arms folded, face smug. Before Riaz spoke, she reached through the open passenger window and held up a plastic evidence bag. Within was a mass of faded brown fabric.

"Pillow case?" Riaz asked with a smile.

"Pillow case," June confirmed.

Riaz held up the VHS cassette. "People's exhibit A," he said with a wry smile.

* * * *

He rubbed his temples as he sat beneath the harsh, life-draining cascade of fluorescent light in the hall outside the forensics laboratory. It had been a long, trying day, with all the driving around, fast food, the heat and that foul woman's omnipresent cloud of cigarette smoke that surrounded her like a nebula. Riaz was happy to see the end of it. Of course, doing so meant the following day would be just around the chronological corner.

"Hey."

He lifted his head, sullen eyes reading the face of his partner. June gave a smile that was one part concern, one part amusement.

"We done?" he asked.

She nodded. "They won't have anything for us until tomorrow morning," June said. "You know how it is with forensics." She laughed suddenly. "Hell, you know better than me. At least the captain gave us high priority."

Riaz nodded and stood. He smiled upon his partner. "You did good today," he said.

June beamed, lightly punched one of Riaz's meaty shoulders. "You know, for being a gruff, cynical, patronizing asshole, you're not such a bad teacher."

He laughed, much more vehemently and genuinely than he would have allowed. "Get your ass home, Barret," he ordered. His smile faded, but did not disappear. "Leave this shit behind for a while."

June winked. "I plan on it. I already told Sophie I'm on my way."

He nodded. "Good. Enjoy the evening."

His partner smiled. "I will," she said. "Say hello to your family for me, will ya?"

Riaz did not respond as June headed away. He envied both her youth and her as yet to be compromised life.

Say hello to my family, he thought. As if I still had one . . . .

* * * *

The small apartment was as much home as any four walls could be. Even after more than a year, unpacked boxes lay against the walls, containing trappings and memories Riaz was not yet sure he wished to reopen. He was content -- or so he liked to believe -- to ignore the boxes and languish during whatever time he had off upon the large papasan couch which faced the cheap flatscreen TV upon a black, pressboard stand.

He dropped his keys onto the tiny breakfast bar, put the six-pack of beer in the fridge. He slipped the phone from his pocket, noting for the fourth or fifth time that day that a message was awaiting him. He knew who had sent it; he had already seen in his missed calls log that she had called. For a moment, his finger hovered over the screen, ready to call up the message service. Instead, he set the phone aside and headed to the shower in the next room.

Clean but not refreshed, he returned several minutes later and took a beer from the refrigerator. He snatched up the remote from the thick cushions of the bamboo-framed couch and turned on something banal yet entertaining.

He glanced to the phone. He gulped heavily from the bottle. And sighed.

Taking it up, he tapped the phone's screen until the message service was activated. He closed his eyes as he listened to the one and only message.

"Hi, Dad. Just wanted to say thanks for the card and iTunes gift card. I'm gonna get every album by The Band Perry. Thanks a bunch!"

Riaz smiled, more from hearing his daughter's voice than from the content of her words.

"Really wish you would have come by, though," she went on. Riaz could detect the disappointment in her voice. "I know you're busy and all that, and I know you don't wanna be here when Mom and Joe are here . . . it'd just be nice, you know? I mean, I haven't seen you in, like, a month!"

Riaz gritted his teeth, staring without comprehending whatever asinine fare was being displayed on his TV screen. He took another few swigs from his beer, nearly finishing it off.

"Anyway," his daughter continued. "Graduation is on May 9^th. I really want you to be there. Please? Please? Okay, that's enough begging. Just let me know you'll be there. I love you, Dad."

Riaz held the phone to his ear until the automated voice barged in. He slapped it down, then tossed it aside for the moment and pretended to care about the program on the screen before him.

* * * *

The sight of the old Ford Taurus in the driveway made June smile as she pulled her equally-aged convertible to a stop beside it. She turned off the car, stepped out, then reached in to gather the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers lying on the car seat.

The living room was conspicuously quiet as she stepped into the house. The fragrant aroma of something fruity lingered int the air. June spied the spent candle sitting upon the coffee table. She bent to sniff it, then noticed the cracked door to the master bedroom off the short hall. She smiled.

Slipping off her jacket and leaving it upon the couch, June shook the bag from the bottle of wine, letting it fall to the floor. At the opening of the bedroom door, she stepped out of her shoes, then entered softly.

A heart-stopping sight greeted her. Sophie lay on her stomach upon the bed, facing away from her. All she wore was a shimmering, peach-colored silk slip that exposed her firm, round buttocks and the smooth-shaved treasure beneath and between them. Her auburn hair was slightly damp; the aroma of floral shower gel drifted into the room from the master bath.

June let out a swooning breath, nearly dropping the wine and flowers. She leaned against the door jamb.

Slowly, her lover looked over her shoulder, displaying a catty grin. She shifted on the bed, moving her lean thighs a little further apart. "How was your day, sexy?" she asked innocently.

June swallowed thickly, feeling the heat building in her lower abdomen. "Uh . . . fine," she said at last.

Sophie chuckled. "Are you okay?"

June managed to compose herself, and stepped around the bed. Sophie's brilliant, jade-hued eyes followed her. Her fresh-scrubbed face, free of blemishes, colored at the sight of the bouquet and bottle. She pouted sexily, setting her iPad aside. "Aw . . . are those for me?"

June knelt down by the edge of the bed, her eyes alive with a mixture of love, lust, and graciousness. "No matter what happens during the day, no matter what I see . . . coming home to you just makes it all go away."

Sophie smiled blushingly, reaching for June's face. "I love you," she whispered. She craned her neck, offering her lips. They kissed tenderly, tongues searching and finding. June dropped the wine to the floor and set the bouquet upon the bed, freeing her hands so she could caress her lover's neck and shoulders.

But Sophie broke the kiss, easing back. She licked moistened lips, eyes smoldering. "Why don't you, uh, hop in the shower?" she suggested.

June chuckled under her breath. She brushed her thumb across Sophie's soft lips. "Thanks for being polite about it," she said.

Her partner's brow furrowed. "I didn't mean it like that," she bemoaned.

But June was already standing. "It's okay. I need it."

Sophie bit her lip seductively. "Oh, we both need it, alright," she said.

With effort, June stepped toward the bathroom door. "Be right back," she said.

* * * *

Letting the towel drop to the floor as she stood before the mirror, June looked herself over with a clinical eye. How does she find me sexy? she wondered.

Beneath her critical eye, June thought she looked more like a skinny man than a woman. Her breasts were almost non-existent; they were more like a pair of thick, puffy pink aureoles upon the chest of a young Leonardo DiCaprio, with nipples made erect only by the glittering steel bars pierced through them. Her ribs showed when she breathed, her abdominal muscles stood out like a washboard beneath a thin layer of pale skin.

I don't even have hips, she lamented, turning this way and that. Her ass was small and somewhat flat, again begging comparisons to a male physiognomy. And between her legs . . . .

June looked down, tugging on the flesh above her smooth-shaved pubic mound. Despite being a technically natural blonde, her pubic hair was much darker, so she had gotten into the habit of shaving it away. Doing so exposed her fleshy vulva and dangling labia, and the very thick and noticeable protrusion of her clitoris. In some ways, it was nearly like a small penis. When she was aroused, it jutted out more than an inch and a half.

I'm a freak, June thought dejectedly, but the thought was immediately followed by another: yet, out there, in the next room, is a woman who tells me I'm everything she's ever wanted.

Don't question it, she told herself. Just accept and enjoy it. Be grateful. Sophie loves you, either despite or because of you.

With a smile to herself in the mirror, June stepped to the door, flicking off the bathroom light, and headed back into the bedroom.

Once again, she felt her heart palpitate. The lights had all been doused while she was in the shower. A pair of candles flickered on either nightstand, casting ghostly shadows that moved erratically across the walls. The flowers sat in a vase upon the dresser; the bottle of wine breathed beside a pair of glasses upon the nightstand beside Sophie's side of the bed.

And upon the bed sat Sophie, now deliciously nude, round breasts floating upon her chest, legs splayed in a way that was both romantic and lewd. She smiled upon June as the fingertips of her right hand fluttered through the orange-hued pubic hair above her otherwise smooth-shaved sex.

June breathed out, feeling the heat in her lower abdomen spike and spread out. Her clitoris stiffened, emerging from its hood. She drank in the delicious sight before her. "God, you're beautiful," she managed to say.

Sophie nibbled her lip, smiling seductively. The tip of her middle finger graced the pink, fleshy hood of her own clit. "I want you," she whispered.

June made her way to the bed, feeling drawn in, as if her movements were not her own. She settled onto her hands and knees, poised before Sophie's parted thighs. "You got me," she said.

Sophie slid down, spreading her legs even more. The fingers of her right hand split the lips of her pussy. She cupped her left breast, pinching the nipple. Her face was a mask of sexual desire. "Right now, I just want you to take me," she whispered huskily.

June suddenly grinned, then aggressively dove in, covering Sophie's offered sex with her mouth. She sucked deeply, pulling her lover's sleek pink folds into her mouth, sliding her tongue past the entrance to Sophie's tunnel. June moaned at the flavor that suddenly filled her senses, one that was matched only by Sophie's guttural utterance of gratitude.

"Oh, God, baby . . . don't stop . . . don't stop . . . ." Sophie writhed and mewed and moaned, settling her hands to the back of June's head, as if afraid her lover would retreat. But June did not. She voraciously licked, sucked and lapped, consuming Sophie's flavor with all the gusto of a starving woman given her first proper meal in weeks. She pushed the redhead's thighs apart, curling them back, and licked repeatedly from anus to clit, letting her tongue delve inside the snug entrance to Sophie's tunnel on each lapping stroke.

It did not take long. Sophie's breathing became shallower as her need to orgasm became more imminent. Dainty feet kicked in the air. An almost pained expression decorated her pale, freckled face. She stared down at June, clutching her lover's face against her exponentially sopping pussy. She loved the sight of her lover's nose thrashing back and forth through her flame-colored pubic hair.

Sophie's orgasm was announced through a series of hoarse, panting cries. She arched her back and pushed hard against June's mouth as she came. June moaned in response, tasting the sudden burst of sweet nectar that flooded out from Sophie's sex. She sucked deeply to get it all, pushing her tongue as far as it could reach.

Suddenly fueled, Sophie sat up and pushed June back, face blazing with lust. She cupped her lover's face, kissed her deeply, tasting her own essence upon June's lips and tongue. For several moments, they kissed and moaned in shared rapture, before Sophie made her way down June's lanky body, snaking her tongue across hardened nipples and taut, toned flesh.

"Your turn," Sophie seethed, getting upon hand and knees on the bed. June leaned back, barely able to support herself on her hands. She automatically pushed her hips out; the engorged clitoris jutting from between hairless lips looked almost like a small cock as Sophie's mouth reached it.

June let out heated breaths, head falling back as she relished the sensations of her lover's lips and tongue swirling around that most sensitive of organs. Sophie suckled on June's clit as if performing fellatio, pulling it into her mouth, then letting it slip almost all the way back out. Over and over she did this, making June writhe in sublime pleasure.

Then, suddenly, June found herself upon her back, head hanging over the edge of the bed. Sophie climbed upon her, straddling her sex, her slippery, heated lips sliding back and forth around June's stiffened clit. Hands planted firmly upon June's chest, Sophie rocked back and forth. Their moans of passion filled the air, even as the sweet fragrance of their lovemaking cascaded through their senses.

June clutched her lover's hips, guiding her along. She could think of nothing else other than the incredible sensations wracking her body. Her clit rubbed back and forth between Sophie's slick labia, slipping just inside her tunnel. She jutted up, pushing with her hips, forcing the stiff protrusion as deep as it could go.

And then . . . .

"Oh my fucking . . . God!"

They erupted together, saturating one another, bucking and gasping and clawing and panting. June lifted up suddenly and latched her mouth to one of Sophie's breasts, sucking the nipple into her mouth. Her lover wrapped her arms around her head, hugging her close. They trembled together, letting the sensations fade naturally.

Finally, June lifted her head, eyes heady and slack. She smiled up at her lover's beaming face.

"Wanna glass of wine?" she asked languidly.

Sophie giggled, kissed her lover's sweaty face. "Sure."

* * * *

Dropping the sixth empty bottle into the trash bin, Riaz looked at the phone he held in his hand. He swayed slightly; he was not much of a drinker, and what he had consumed was having an affect. On impulse, not giving himself a chance to back out of the commitment, he redialed his daughter's number.

It rang three, four, five times, before automatically shifting to the answering service. "Please leave a message after the tone, or hang up," the automated voice directed.

The tone sounded.

For a moment, Riaz contemplated hanging up. But he fought against the urge. "Hi, honey," he said. "Glad you liked the gift card. I wasn't sure what to get you, but I know you like music. Maybe that makes me a good father? I mean, I've always paid attention to what you like and don't like. I remember when you were seven and you suddenly didn't like hot dogs . . . never gave you a hot dog after that."

He frowned, taking the phone away. What am I trying to say?

"Anyway . . . I asked off for your graduation. I'm not gonna miss it. I hope you know how important you are to me. I'll be there, Kitty-cat. I promise."

He jabbed his thumb onto the screen, ending the call. He stared at the device in his hand, almost hating the thoughts which traveled through his head. Then he scrolled through his list of numbers and tapped one of them.

It rang twice before it was picked up.

"Riaz?"

He smiled thinly at the sound of her voice. Even inebriated, he could tell she had been sleeping. "Hi, Susan."

"Um, what . . . I mean . . . what time is it?"

"A little after eleven, I think," he said.

". . . it's almost midnight. Are you okay? You sound funny."

"I'm, uh . . . a little drunk."

Soft laughter filtered through the phone. "You drink?" she asked, sounding both amused and surprised.

"Sometimes."

There was a long pause, during which Riaz heard the faint rustle of fabric. He imagined her sitting up naked in her cheap little black-painted bed. Susan liked sleeping in the nude, he knew. "Um, you okay?" she asked at last. "I mean, I haven't heard from you in, like, almost three months. Not since, you know, your wife found out about us."

He frowned. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "I'm fine," he said curtly, then sighed. "Sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have called."

"But you did."

Riaz stared at the floor of his apartment. "Maybe I just wanted to hear a friendly voice. Been having a rough day."

". . . okay."

The reservation in her voice was obvious. Riaz cursed himself silently. "Look, it's late. I shouldn't have called. I'm sure you have to work in the morning."

"No, it's okay," she insisted. "I'm just . . . I mean, after everything that happened, I just sort'a figured I'd never hear from you again . . ." She sighed loudly. "This, uh . . . this isn't a booty call, is it?"

Riaz's face contorted in a deep grimace. Bingo! "No," he said, a little too firmly. "I'm just . . . like I said, I'm a little drunk."

"'Cause, you know, if it is . . . ."

He listened for a long moment. "Yeah?"

She sighed again. "You're right," she said at last. "It is late. I gotta be up for work at seven-thirty."

"That's okay. I was just thinking about you, that's all."