To Protect and Serve Ch. 04

Clyde was smiling. "Your conversations are so much more interesting than my peoples'. Please continue, and spare no detail."

"Sorry, but you'll have to wait for the mass release of the DVD just like everyone else," Clara replied. Then she shot Shamira an evil grin. "Unless you'd like to see the video file --"

"Don't . . . you . . . dare," the powerful young vampire replied.

"You're right," Clara replied with feigned meekness. "If we need to make a deal, then a video of you getting fisted in a cage might buy us something, don't you think? You don't give that sort of stuff away for free."

Shamira and Clyde had identical expressions of pure astonishment, though for entirely different reasons.

"I think I love you!" Clyde said.

"I hate you!" Shamira whispered heatedly. Apparently being immune to sexual domination doesn't mean you couldn't be embarrassed all to hell by your friend.

Clara was just smiling like a crocodile. "So, did Shane fill you in on what we're looking for?"

"Nope," Clyde replied, his eyes undressing Shamira much to her chagrin. "He said you'd do it."

"Right. Shamira, talk to the man."

Shamira's brain was still stewing in humiliation, so getting her mouth on track was no small feat. "We need to find a . . . a medium. Someone who can actually talk to ghosts, not just a hack. Someone who does it commercially."

"Why is this person so important?" Clyde asked.

Despite her pride, Shamira looked to Clara for guidance.

Clara gave her a slight nod, then took over. "We'd like to keep the public names to a minimum."

"We're not here to hurt anyone. We just want to talk him or her out of reporting something to a client. It's a matter of --" She waved her hands, "Not letting regular people know we exist."

"We?"

"Vampires, weres, etcetera."

"Ah," Clyde said. "And how did this potential violation of Tribunal law come about?"

"No one violated the law," Clara said carefully. "There hasn't even been any exposure yet. It's an accidental intrusion, and it can be headed off if we can just have a word with the medium."

Clyde took a deep breath. "Here's what I figger," the big man said, "Mediums act as go-betweens between the living and the dead. So someone is looking for someone else who's s'pposed to be dead but ain't." He looked at the two women at the table. "That means they got brought over. Maybe one of ours, but more likely one of yours. Hell, most likely one of you two. And since all your relatives are dead'n gone," he finished, looking from Clara to Shamira, "I'd figure that's you."

"Told you he wasn't dumb," Clara said with grudging approval.

Shamira cocked her head. "He even knows who's doing the looking."

Clara looked puzzled while Clyde raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"You took a breath, and then you relaxed a bit," Shamira said. "You were smelling us, and I bet my sister and I don't smell that much different to a nose like that."

Clara started to look alarmed, but Clyde grinned at her. "She's quick," he said to the veteran vampire, then back to Shamira, "So your Samantha Kingsley's sister?"

"You know her?" Clara asked.

"Damn straight. She don't know about us or what we are, but she's the best damn veterinarian in the city. All my kids take their pets to that clinic of hers. Fine lady that one. Never struck me as a believer though."

"Surprised the hell out of me too," Shamira admitted. "She and I were always close, so I guess she realized that my death didn't go quite right. And she's not the type to give up looking. She's got kids and a husband, and I don't want any of them stumbling into this mess of magic and crap I seem to be up to my eyeballs in. I won't let anything happen to my family because of me."

The werewolf looked her dead in the eyes, then finally he just gave her a nod. "I don't suspect you would. Think she'd likely find someone close to home or --"

"Away," Shamira said. "She's probably wondering what the hell she's doing, so she's gonna make sure that she doesn't run into anyone she knows by accident."

"I wanna be there when you talk to the medium," Clyde said. "Whoever it is lives under my protection. Don't sound like they meant to do anything wrong, but they need to be reminded to take some precautions. If it's someone experienced, they'll figure out how to avoid spilling the beans, but we can't be too careful." He turned to the waitress and ordered, then waited on his guests. "C'mon now, you can't do good work on an empty stomach. Clara darlin', you're too damn skinny. SHE," he said, thumbing in Shamira's direction, "looks healthy."

Clara grumbled, but overall seemed content with the direction negotiations had gone.

"Keep in mind," Clyde said, "that your Mr. Stapleton will owe me a favor for this, though it'll be a small one."

"I'll let you deal with Shane directly for that," Clara replied, then ordered a platter of bacon, eggs, and sausage. "And Diet Coke," she added. "Gotta watch my figure."

"Me too," Clyde said evilly, checking out her assets.

Clara turned her head and gave Shamira a kiss that caught her by surprise and turned her spine to jello, and Clara's hand rested close to the stronger woman's crotch. Then she smiled at her host while Shamira's head was spinning from the unexpected PDA. "Dinner and a show. Don't ever say I've never done anything for you."

"Remind me to find a reason to come visit you nice folks sometimes soon," Clyde said knowingly. "Now if y'all will excuse me for a moment, I'll make a few phone calls." He stood up and walked outside the front door. Shamira noticed that no one else in the restaurant had moved since they got in.

"Okay, what the hell are you --" Shamira started.

"Oh c'mon, he knows about Shane's house, so I was just giving him what he expected. Of course now he may drop by for a 'diplomatic visit' and call in that favor," she added, looking down Shamira's body.

"You're not serious?!"

"Oh yeah. Sometimes Shane lends subs to visitors that he trusts or likes to gain favor. Let him know if you have issues with that when he gets back. What's with YOU telling him about your sister? Now, she's involved --"

"She was involved the moment we sat down. I could see it the second he got a whiff of me, and we wouldn't have gotten anything by lying about it. Besides, he mentioned his kids a couple of times. I may not like a lot of things about the South, but they've got a strong sense of family, and Clyde is a Southern boy. Besides, you think that even if he hadn't smelled it on me that he wouldn't have looked for the client?"

"Probably right," Clara said approvingly. She leaned in and locked lips with the more muscular woman. "Had to get that in before you taste like maple syrup. Though syrup does give me some ideas --"

"You're insane!" Shamira said. "Horny and insane!" Shamira chewed her bottom lip, then kissed Clara back. "Gorgeous, horny, and insane."

"About time you caught on," Clara said, taking a sip of coffee while running her hand up and down her friend's thigh. That touch was driving her nuts, and the thought that someone was probably watching it, that Clyde might walk back in and sit down --

"Got a couple of possibilities," Clyde said as he came back in, "but we won't be able to figure anything else out until daylight. For some reason, scraping-by-the-skin-of-their-teeth psychic types aren't open twenty-four hours a day. Weird. Anyway, if you need a place to stay --" He trailed off, staring at the two women with lustful glee.

"Sorry Clyde, but we'll get a hotel room." Clara's hand slid between Shamira's thighs and cupped her mound through her jeans. "Tonight is girl's night. I'm sure you understand."

Shamira was almost frozen in confusion and a small amount of fear. She couldn't believe Clara was doing this . . . actually, she kind of could. And she enjoyed it. She enjoyed the hungry look in Clyde's eyes, and she felt a thrill that she was partially responsible for it.

"Are you sure?" Clyde asked, glancing into Shamira's lap.

She could hardly believe it herself when she did it, but Clara just brought out the worst, or maybe the best, in Shamira. The muscular woman took Clara's hand and slid it underneath the waistband of her jeans. She could see a moment's surprise in her friend's face, but Clara's hand didn't miss a beat. She slide one finger into Shamira's sex as the newer vampire said, "We're sure."

Once Shamira had thrown down the gauntlet, Clara was unwilling to back down. Throughout dinner, conversation and consumption took place while Clara masturbated Shamira. Clyde was getting a kick out of it, as well as a rise in his own denim. Clara hand-fed her friend food, then asked for her fingers to be licked clean. Shamira acquiesced to these requests, and she did so willingly. She wasn't doing this because she was obligated to. When she orgasmed, she was gripping the edge of that cheap vinyl-covered bench so hard that the wood began cracking in her grip.

Clara may have just finished a meal, but damn if she didn't still look hungry. "Check please."

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Fifteen long minutes later . . .

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It was difficult for Shamira to open her hotel room door when her back was pressed against it, and with Clara pressed against her front. The Native American's hands were up under the other woman's shirt, grabbing those large breasts through the fabric of her bra. Clyde would call them when he got a hold of the medium responsible for contacting Shamira's sister, so the two vampires were going to occupy their time until he called.

"Get the (pant) damn door open!" Clara said, unhooking Shamira's bra at last.

The door fell open as Shamira finally got the card into the slot and shoved down on the handle, and both women tumbled into the room. The door was slowly closing as Shamira's shirt came off and Clara's bottoms were pulled down. Clara pushed her friend back onto the bed, then yanked the woman's boots and jeans off. "Damn, I wish you hadn't taken today off," Clara muttered hungrily.

"Too late to take it back?" Shamira replied. Then she realized that she meant it. She wanted Clara to dominate her. She had loved regular sex with this woman, but what they had done in the restaurant had just lit a fire under Shamira.

"Sorry," Clara said earnestly, "no take-backs on that." Then she grinned, jumping onto the bed and straddling Shamira's stomach. "But it doesn't mean we can't play a little rough," she added, pulling the woman's bra down past her breasts and gripping the nipples hard. Shamira responded with an ecstatic gasp and shoved her breasts harder against Clara's hands. Clara tugged and twisted on those nipples until she could tell that Shamira wanted to scream, then she released them and ducked in, letting her warm soft lips comfort the stinging flesh. She could play with those enormous tits for days and someday, given enough time off, she intended to.

Shamira needed this. She wasn't going to feel bad about or second guess herself. She liked what Clara could do to her. She watched as Clara scooted forward, planting her knees on either side of Shamira's face and lowering that perfect smooth pussy onto her lover's mouth. Clara reached both hands backwards, tugging on Shamira's nipples while riding her face.

"Stick your hands under your ass and leave them there," Clara ordered. She knew that she was technically breaking a house rule but doing this, but she didn't think that Shamira would complain. She pressed and rocked her hips, grinding her sex against Shamira's lips and tongue, letting her lover fill her up as best she could without the aid of her hands.

Shamira's breasts were already aching from the attention lavished on them by Clara, and that pussy was so sweet. She didn't have anything to compare it to, but she thought it was probably delicious comparatively. Maybe she needed to "apologize" to Renata in order to get a comparison sample? In the meantime, her tongue penetrated Clara's folds, tasted the heat and wetness. After the meal they had just eaten, both women were giving off more warmth than usual, and Shamira was going to take advantage of it.

"Get the asshole too," Clara growled, rocking her hips again so her lover could get to that little rosebud. Shamira rimmed her a couple of times, making Clara squirm with delight before moving her pussy back into position. That tongue was so strong, and Shamira really was gaining in skill. "Get the clit," she ordered, feeling that her climax wasn't far away. She released Shamira's nipples, grabbed her hair and held on with a death grip, riding that gorgeous face until she came. Shamira consumed her wetness with a definite fervor, lost in a tidal wave of pleasure. "Good girl," Clara cooed. "Now stay here."

She got off Shamira's face and the bed and went into the bathroom, returning with a hairbrush, a hair dryer, and a demonic gleam in her eye. She flipped Shamira over, then she sat on the woman's back and pinning her arms in place. "I'm going to show you what 'being resourceful' means." She grabbed Shamira's ponytail and tugged on it, bringing her lover's head up. Then she grabbed the hairbrush and used the flat-side of it to light up Shamira's muscular ass. The gasps elicited were more pleasure than pain.

'Okay,' Shamira thought happily, 'I understand what the brush is for, but the hair dryer?' She got her answer soon enough, as Clara positioned herself so that she was sitting on Shamira's back facing her ass. She grabbed the hair dryer and slowly pushed the long cylindrical end into Shamira's waiting sex. It felt weird, with little give, but she liked it. She liked everything that Clara did to her.

"See, I think I know what you need to get over the whole 'guilt' thing," Clara said as she used her impromptu sex toy on her lover's greedy pussy, shoving it as far into her core as she could. She also began punishing Shamira's ass cheeks again with the brush. Shamira clenched her vaginal walls on the invader, but her mistress would not be stopped. "You just need to be fucked so hard and for so long you don't get a chance to think about it." She leveled a particularly strong slap on that helpless ass. "You'd like it too wouldn't you? Maybe just have a day where everyone in the house has a go at you? I'll bet you would." SMACK! "But don't ever forget the woman who made you come until you passed out." SMACK!

As if Shamira could forget. Okay, maybe she did feel weird afterward, but had she ever experienced anything that good in her life before? No. "You're the best," she grunted as she was violated in this most unconventional way. "Please, harder!"

"Someone's being a little slut tonight, isn't she? I bet you wish you'd sucked off Clyde for being so nice to us. Maybe that guy at the front desk too for getting us our room? But they can't have you until I'm done with you." Clara heard a bit of possessiveness in her own voice. 'Is that what I want? To be first with her at all times?' She thrust the dryer in, then leaned over and bit Shamira's ass. No fangs, but enough to get the girl's attention. Shamira came almost instantly, and Clara was pretty sure she'd just flooded the hair dryer so badly that is would forever be unusable.

"Oh yeah," Clara murmured, "you're a big time whore." She continued fucking Shamira for several minutes until all those muscles completely relaxed into the post-coital bliss. "You're my whore." She withdrew the dryer and tossed it aside, then stood up and had Shamira turn onto her back. "You can use your hands this time," she purred, then sank down into a delicious sixty-nine.

Shamira went all out this time, sinking fingers into Clara's slot and pulling her pussy open as much as she could. She pushed her tongue and lips forward, sinking into her lover's flesh as far as she could go. She wanted to be possessed by Clara's flesh.

Clara could feel the ramped up passion her lover possessed, so she responded with every trick she knew. She knew just how to tease her lover's gorgeous clitoris to knock her off her game, but Shamira didn't stay off long. So Clara added the penetration of her fingers, probing for the g-spot while her lips sucked gently on the pleasure nub.

"You're the most (gasp) amazing woman," Shamira said, flicking her mistress's clitoral hood.

"An artist is only as good as her canvas," Clara replied, pressing her teeth down lightly on the clit. She didn't actually bite so much as make the presence of her teeth known, but it still was able to set Shamira off again. But this time, she didn't stop her attentions as her body quaked with pleasure. She grabbed Clara's ass with both hands and just licked and sucked like a madwoman. Clara wasn't far behind in the climax race, letting her body surrender to her lover's demands.

"You are getting so much better," Clara whispered, sliding around until she lay face-to-face on top of her friend. They kissed, sharing the juices still on their lips. "Any second thoughts?"

"Just that I wish I hadn't made things so difficult on everyone," Shamira replied.

"I don't think you've really bothered anyone. We get it. Mostly, we just want you to be as happy as you make us." Clara felt warm inside, and she wasn't sure it was the recent orgasms. Flesh pressed against flesh, and she kissed her lover one more time. She felt comfortable where she was, and the two drifted off in each other's arms.

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Several hours later . . .

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If she hadn't had such a great morning earlier, Shamira would be miserable. Even with her advanced recovery, she really needed more than a few hours of sleep before starting the day. But Clara's cell phone had erupted (to Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London" as a ring tone, no less) with Clyde informing them that he had located the medium who had been dealing with Shamira's sister. They didn't ask how he had found out so fast, but they did show up at a little trailer-style business on the outskirts of town. Just as Shamira had thought, it was on the far side of town from where her sister lived and worked.

Inside was a nervous young woman who had all the trappings of a stereotyped gypsy woman. The trailer-trash-blond was sitting next to Clyde, fidgeting and rubbing her hands.

"I'm so sorry," she was saying as Clara and Shamira walked in. "I wasn't trying to expose anyone. It's just that my ghost messenger came back and --"

"Shh," Clyde said. "No one is mad at you. You're new. Gayla, these two fine, fine young women . . . young LOOKING women . . . are Clara and Shamira. They work for Shane Stapleton. You remember who that is?"

"Lord of Atlanta," she replied nervously. She stood up and offered her trembling hand to the two vampires. "I didn't mean to cause trouble," she said, glancing from one woman to the other. "Usually when someone comes in, their relative is just dead. I have a ghost messenger look into it, get some basic personal information and let the seeker know that their loved one or whatever has passed on. I've never heard of a human looking for a deceased who's a vamp. I checked the websites, and there wasn't any real precedent."

"It's okay," Shamira said.

"You're the one, aren't you?" Gayla said with a nervous smile. "You look like her."

"No way," Shamira said. "Samantha got all the looks in the family, but thanks for saying it. Ouch!" she added, rubbing her arm where Clara had just smacked her, rolling her eyes all the while.

"Unfortunately, I called her yesterday evening and left a message that it was important that she come talk to me. I was just going to tell her that you hadn't passed over completely and there were things left for you to do here. I can't lie!" she belted, still obviously afraid of some kind of reprisal. "If I use my abilities and lie for personal gain --"