A Detective Story

EDIT 3/15

1.

"Tell me what you found out," she said.

All the sudden, guy looked like he was about to hurl. Great sign. "I'm not sure I can, anymore. I mean, I'm really not sure I should."

"Jesus, Rick. Don't do this. You called me. Remember? This was your idea!"

"I know it was. Now I think it was a mistake. This is a bad situation. You shouldn't stick your nose into it. These people don't mess around."

"They already demonstrated that. Did somebody threaten you?"

"They didn't have to. I just get more and more worried, the longer I think about it. I acted too hasty, when I called you. I should have kept my mouth shut. I don't wanna get you hurt. And they won't just hurt you."

"Somebody has to shut them down. I can't let this go. Tell me who's responsible. I know that you know."

"I do know, yeah. But I'm not gonna tell you. I've decided. Sorry to waste your time bringing you over here, but this is for your own good. I'm not giving you the name."

"You fucking coward!"

"Come on, Laura. You know how I feel about you. You know I respect you and the work you do. I've had a hopeless crush on that pretty face of yours since grade school. You're the smartest girl I know, and the stubbornest. But you're also just a college student, trying to solve this case all by yourself. We gotta be realistic. This isn't like a TV show. You don't have secret ninja skills or anything like that, do you? Didn't think so. This guy will fuck you up, if you cross him. Just like he fucked up the professor."

"I'm not letting him get away with it. Tell me his fucking name!"

"I can't do it. I just can't."

"We'll see about that, Rick. You know how persistent I am. I'm not backing off. I'm gonna dig this out of you, whatever it takes."

2.

God, he thought, she's nuts. But's she so damn hot when she looks all pissed off and determined like this. Drives me out of my mind.

Her name was Laura Wolfe. She was a theatre major, and also worked for the college online news blog, though she kept that fact as quiet as possible. Wrote under another name, a guy's name. She had a knack for investigative work—she dug snooping around, to put it bluntly. In the last year and a half, she'd broken a few pretty darn impressive stories. Exposed corruption in the college administration and the athletic department, the fudging of grades to keep the football team's most vicious and valuable meatheads on the field through the season, as well as sweeping their various misbehaviors under the rug when they got themselves busted for driving drunk or beating up their girlfriends again and again every weekend (yes, the local police department had been complicit too, big surprise). Same crap that happens over and over at every big university, of course; somebody just has to keep on top of these people. At this particular school, at this particular time, that duty had fallen to her. And she'd got half a dozen rich old hypocritical assholes canned, thanks to her articles and all the evidence she'd quietly and carefully collected against them.

A painfully skinny, shrimpy, kind of gawky-looking creature—but in a cute way. Braces and big clunky glasses and messy hair, dyed blue. Dressed a little loud and freaky like a lot of the theatre and art kids liked to do. That night she had on a shiny silver jacket, like something out an old space movie, over a raggedy red sweater dress and bumblebee leggings, thick black and yellow stripes all down her coltish legs, and a black pair of those chunky soft leathery slip-on boots with the white fuzz inside. What were they called, ooga boots or ugga boots or some silly shit like that.

Almost as long as he'd known her, whenever he saw this girl, Rick had wanted to pick her up off her feet and spin around with her and cuddle her against his chest like a kitten. Knowing she'd completely hate it and scream and fuss and kick her feet in the air the whole time, trying to wriggle loose—well, just like most kittens tended to do. Now that they were both in college, the fantasy had evolved quite a bit. He would like to do a number of other things with her, after that first part ...

They'd met tonight in the dinky third floor bathroom of his frat house. Actually it was only a half-bath, only a toilet and a sink. Always thought it was pretty dumb calling a bathroom a bathroom, when there wasn't any bath in it—not even half of one. The ceiling was slanted; you had to be careful not to crack your head on it. Some douche had drawn a big spurting cock on the mirror with toothpaste or something. It was embarrassing, why did they all have to act like such frats boys all the time, just 'cause they lived in a frat house? He shouldn't have brought her up in here. Except it was safer here than his bedroom. Most people—even half the guys who lived here—didn't even know this room existed.

Smelled like wet socks too. At least it was wet socks instead of anything worse. This toilet didn't work any good. Clogged up whenever some fool used it except for just peeing. There was even a sign taped on the door about it. Some drunk retard would go right ahead and poop in here anyway at least once a month.

Laura was investigating the disappearance of her favorite teacher. Professor Cheller. A math teacher, and actually a mean icy bitch—but she'd been pretty smoking hot, too, no denying it. Rick had flunked out of her class twice. She acted like an evil alien or a robot, sneering down her nose at what pathetic and miserable specimens of humanity most of her students turned out to be. Like she could barely hold back from disintegrating everyone hunched and trembling at their desks with merciless laser beams from her eyes ... but that would give away her true nature and spoil her research mission. Yeah, that whole routine had really turned him on. Almost made sitting through her lectures worthwhile three mornings a week. Almost.

She'd been hospitalized after a severe car crash. Then disappeared from her bed over the night, though nobody had seen her regain consciousness. Nobody knew if she'd got up and walked out, or been taken.

Well, actually a few people did know which it was. And Rick, unfortunately for him, happened to be one of those now. Sort of stumbled upon the truth without meaning to. Overheard a conversation he wasn't supposed to.

She kept right on pressuring him. "Just tell me what you heard, Rick. How's anybody gonna know it was you that told me, huh?"

"Are you kidding? Tons of people could have noticed us going upstairs together. I didn't know there was gonna be another stupid huge party tonight when I invited you."

"God, Rick. You're an ass. There's a stupid huge party here every single night of the week! That shit never stops!"

"Not every night. Not every single night. Last night it was quiet. Well, mostly. Until ten it was dead, 'til those girls came over again from next door. Nobody asked them to; the crazy bitches just showed up. And then—"

"It doesn't matter, Rick. I don't care about that shit. I'm sure nobody took any notice of us. Even if somebody did, so what? Everybody knows we're friends, right? Everybody knows you've got a thing for me, despite the fact you're dating that psycho Krissy."

"Hey, don't talk mean about her. That's not cool."

"People will just assume you were trying to get into my pants. Worst case, they'll think I actually broke down and let you. But nobody will connect this meeting with my investigation. Your frat brothers aren't that bright, Rick."

"It's not my frat brothers I'm worried about it. It's this other guy. And he's a sharp customer. He puts things together. You go after him like you're planning on—if I point you in the right direction—this fucker will trace it back to me. I don't know how, but I know eventually he will. He's just as tenacious as you are."

"Can't wait to meet him. Or do I know him already? I bet I probably do. This isn't that big a school."

"God, will you please listen to me? You can't joke around about this—this is no joke."

"I wasn't joking, Rick. I'm dead fucking serious about this whole business. Look at my face."

"There's all kinds of freaky shit goes on at this school. Seriously messed up crap."

"I'm well aware of what goes on."

"No you aren't! Not like this! This guy's racket is on another level. Much much darker, believe me."

"Professor Cheller found out about it, right? What else could have happened? This is the simplest explanation—she found out about this spooky racket, whatever the fuck it is, and she was gonna tell somebody. Right? So she had to be taken care of."

"Well, yeah. Exactly. That's what they said."

"Tell me straight, is she dead? Did this guy fucking kill her and dump her somewhere?"

He shook his head. "Way worse than that. I don't know the details. Don't ask me. But from the little I caught, it sounded way, way worse. And the same shit will happen to you, unless you back off from this. You're not fucking Batgirl or Wonder Woman! You can't take this guy down! He's too scary!"

"Just tell me his name. Please, Rick. Pretty please? What do you want me to do? What's it gonna take?"

"Nothing you could offer me is gonna make me change my mind."

With a sly sideways grin, she put a hand on his knee. "You sure about that?" Then she slowly steadily spider-walked her fingertips up along his thigh. "One hundred percent?"

"Hey!" he said, "Hey now! Hold on! Hey!"

But for all his protests, he didn't move. He didn't try to stop her from unzipping his fly, and digging her hand in there, and taking a firm grip on him, and then fishing his johnson out of his boxers into the open.

"Look at this guy," she said, "Look how excited you are."

And she started pumping her hand on him.

"Oh shit. Oh Christ. Laura! Laura! Hey now! Hoohhuuhh! God!"

"Tell me who he is, Rick. Tell me."

He grit his teeth and shook his head. "No. I can't. This is a dirty trick. I won't let it work. It's too important, Laura. I mean, you're too important. Seriously. Uhhhnn. Uhhuuh. Too dangerous. I'm not gonna tell you. I'm not. I can't. I won't. Not even for ... this ... Ohhh!"

"You want me to stop? I'll stop if you don't tell me what I need to know."

"Go on then. Stop. Stop it. Please. Don't torture me anymore. No fair. Manipulating me. Taking advantage of my feelings. It's a dirty trick. Stop. Just stop!"

She didn't, though. She pumped him harder instead. And he still didn't make any real effort to wrestle out of her reach or push her hand away. Wasn't like she had him tied up or anything. But he held perfectly still with his hands crossed behind his back, like he was. Just squirmed and panted and moaned. Taking it. Loving it, too. She could tell. Did his best to pretend like he wasn't, but he wasn't very convincing. Not even slightly. It was pretty funny, in fact, for Laura, watching his face and listening to his bullshit.

"You're so mean. You're being so mean to me. Ohhuuh oohhhoohh. Why are you being so mean? Never knew you were so cruel. Ohh oohhh stop stop it stop ooohh please pleeeeze stop!"

"Tell me what I need to know."

"I can't! I can't! Laura! Oh man! Oh man! I just ... just can't!"

Why on earth did her hand feel so much better on his cock than his own did, when he pumped himself off? It didn't make any sense. Her hand was littler than his, with skinny fingers—when she gripped him, she wasn't covering as much of his shaft as his own hand would. And she wasn't pumping him any harder than he would normally do ... But even so, it felt completely different when she did it. A million times better. "Jesus, Laura! Sweet fucking Jesus! Uhh! Uhh! Uhhuhhuh!" She hadn't taken any clothes off—she wasn't showing him nothing special, no sexy parts of herself he wouldn't normally get to see every day. It didn't matter one little bit. Just with her tiny little hand, she was totally rocking his world. God, imagine what real sex would be like, if a simple handjob was this amazing ... He wouldn't perform very well, he wouldn't be able to last long enough. Her hand by itself was gonna make him explode like a nuclear rocket, if she kept doing what she was doing ... He was gonna pass out, probably! Holy shit! "Why you doing this to me?"

"You know why, idiot. Give me the name. Go on. Quit trying to fight me, it ain't worth it, is it? Be a good boy and spill the beans, heh heh."

"No! Seriously! I mustn't! Really! I keep telling you! I keep telling you and telling you! I won't do it! Because I can't!"

"Sure you can. Then you get your reward." Her grip tightened and sped up ...

"Ahhuuhhaahh! No! No way! I'm sorry but no way! Even ... not even if you make me come! Go on! Make me spurt all over myself! You can humiliate me all you want—you've got all the power. I still won't tell you nothing! It won't do you any good!"

"I won't make you spurt all over yourself, if you tell me the name. If you give me what I want, I'll reward you for it. I'll let you come on my face instead, like your own private porno. All over my glasses and my braces. Picture it. Wouldn't you like that? I know you will. You've been dreaming about doing that to me for ages and ages, haven't you? Do this one thing for me, and I'll make that fantasy come true, right now." She knelt and lowered her face sideways under his cock, aiming the tip over her forehead.

"Oh shit! Oh shit! I'm gonna come! You're gonna make me come! Can't stand it! Can't hold out anymore! Laura! Laura! Oh God! God!"

But then somehow at the last possible instant, just as he was about to burst, she changed the way she was holding him. She stopped pumping, and instead gripped the head of his cock as tight as she could against her palm, so tight it hurt, and she also grabbed the root of his shaft with her other hand and squeezed him there just as hard. And he couldn't come—she'd blocked it in! She was holding him trapped, right at the brink!

It was horrible. It was the worst thing he'd ever experienced. He lost his mind. Thought he was gonna die.

"Laura! Laura! God! Oh God! Please! Please! Let me! Let me! Ahhaahhhuuhhh! God!"

She roared at him. She was like a lioness. "Tell me the name! Tell me the name right now! Tell me, you piece of shit! Fucking tell me! TELL!"

"I'm gonna die! Ahhuuhh lemme come! Pleeeze! Laura! God! It hurts! It hurts! Ahhuuhhaahh please pretty please! Please!"

Now actually, if Rick had held out just another few seconds, the desperate maddening pressure that was tormenting him would have eased off, by itself. You can't actually die or become crippled from having an ejaculation suppressed like that—it just feels that way at the time. Your balls will not explode internally; your cock will not turn green and fall off. You'll feel perfectly fine in a minute, more or less. Your need to ejaculate will simply recede—as will your climax, though some people can have one anyway, without ejaculating. Some claim this makes a climax better. You can supposedly teach yourself how to do it, with concentration and practice. A Tantric thing. It's not as loopy as it might sound—orgasms happen in the brain. Paraplegics and quadriplegics can have orgasms, once their brain adapts to their condition, even if they can't get a hard-on ever again.

Rick didn't know any of that stuff. Probably wouldn't have mattered if he did. He gave in. Laura had broken him.

"TELL!"

He told her the name. He screamed it again and again.

"Good boy," she said, and then let him come. Not on her face, though, despite what she said before. She moved out of the way, made him spew on the gungy tile floor. Squeezing his nuts as well as pumping his shaft. He made a pretty enormous pool of goop on the tile. It just kept flying out of him, burst after burst ...

"Huuhhn! Huuhhn! Huuhhuhhhuuhh ..."

"Ewww. Look at the big sticky mess you made. You should be ashamed of yourself."

He wailed and sputtered: "You said you'd—you said I'd get to—you said—"

She wrinkled her nose and clicked her tongue at him. "I lied, buddy. You should know me better than that by now. I'd never do that demeaning bullshit for you in a million years. Or any other stupid fucker, for that matter. Get over it, sucker. Just be good and grateful I let you come at all."

"No fair," he whimpered. But then she squeezed his nuts again. "Ohh God Laura oohhoohh." More jizz fired out of him, adding to the pool. "Jesus. I never knew you were so mean."

"Don't bitch. You like it when I'm mean. Be a gentleman now and say thank you."

"Th-thank you, Laura. Thank you for ... letting me get me off."

It had been painful. But it was also probably the greatest orgasm he ever had in his life. Holding it back like that for those few seconds, agonizing as they were, made his explosion a hundred times more satisfying when she allowed it to happen.

The humiliation of how she'd done it—that added a lot of extra kick, too.

Sex was never gonna be quite the same for Rick, after this experience. He'd never considered himself the kind of guy that liked girls to boss him around. Now he'd never be able to get worked up any good without that particular ingredient. Though his vocabulary wasn't large enough to include this word, Laura had just single-handedly (hee hee) transformed him into a masochist.

3.

The name she'd got made perfect sense. She should have guessed it already.

Guy was one of the assistant coaches. Just graduated a year or so before. Not great enough to go pro, so now he was back with his old team as part of the staff.

Only now turned out that job was only a cover for his real gig ... The evil vicious bastard. She was gonna nail his ass so good. Yes sir. He'd never see her coming, either.

All right, at this stage, what exactly was her next step gonna be? What would be the best way to begin? She needed to plan her strategy very carefully. No rushing.

Laura was so completely caught up in her machinations, she never noticed the big black SUV speeding up behind her.

It was a little after one in the morning. She was a little over half way home from Rick's frat house. Zooming along around the woodsy outskirts of the college campus on her snazzy little scooter, with her pink helmet on (it had dorky floppy plastic bunny ears stuck on top) and electronic dance music from her phone, in her jacket pocket, pounding in her earbuds, the volume cranked up far too loud. Needed that noise to keep herself calm, after what she'd just learned, and to help her think.

Then the SUV swung around in front of her and cut her off, the headlights blinding.

She didn't smash into it or flip herself over from braking too fast, but it was a near thing. She wet herself, a little.

Before she could do anything else, three or four people had burst from the vehicle and rushed around her, grabbing her arms and dragging her off her scooter, so it toppled over on its side with a clatter on the street. Then she got slapped across her face.

"Skank!" She was slapped again. "You think I wouldn't find out?" Laura recognized the voice—God, it was Krissy! Rick's psycho cheerleader girlfriend. With her little bitchy band of followers, same as always.

"What the hell? Fucking let go of my arms. What the fuck is this?"

"Payback," said Krissy, "Get her ass in the back. Let's get the fuck out of here."

"What about her scooter?" asked one of the minions.

"Leave it right there."

"It's a nice expensive little scooter. Somebody will snatch it."

"Good for them! Come on!"

4.

Now they're holding her pinned on her hands and knees on the floor in the back of the SUV—all the chairs have been removed from this part, so there's lots of room. Well, not lots, but enough.

One of the minions is driving. They're on the freeway, the outerbelt. Not going anywhere, just circling town. The other two minions are in charge of holding Laura down, bent over, so Krissy can crouch in front and lord it over her ... She's holding up Laura's face by her hair. Hurts like hell. It's making her cry.