Daring Pt. 01

Will had come to understand that what he had with Elsa, especially when it came to sex, was something special. There was just something, something chemical, that made her body, the scent of her skin and hair and sex, that just connected with him. He could smell her skin and it was there, her hair and it was there, and her pussy and it was really there. The problem was he had realized it too late.

But all of that was not something he was going to worry about right now. He wanted to forget everything else because at this moment they were both naked, laying side by side in Elsa's bed and Will was running a hand over Elsa's hip and up to her breast. He moved his thumb over the erect nipple, the perfect nipple on the perfect breast. The nipple was pink. Actually pink. Not pink in the brownish pink of most nipples, but actually pink. Pink like the insides of her pussy. Not the blood engorged, almost burgundy color, but pink.

The first time Will had seen her pussy, the perfectly formed vulva like pink rose petals, he couldn't believe an actual pussy - a real life pussy - looked better than an airbrushed, perfectly lit, photographed pussy online. He was no fool, he knew the reality would never be able to live up to the fantasy, but he had been wrong. Elsa's pussy had surpassed the fantasy.

The first time he saw Elsa's pussy, in the brightly lit bedroom of the apartment he lived in at the time, he stopped and stared.

"Is something wrong?" Elsa had asked.

"No, nothing is wrong," Will said.

"Why do you stare at my..." But then she hesitated, not sure of what to call her sex: a vagina, a pussy, a cunt.

"Because I have never saw one so perfect," Will said.

"You have seen many?" Elsa asked raising an eyebrow.

"No, not that many," Will said. "At least not real ones."

Elsa looked confused.

"I mean I've seen pictures, El," Will said. Sometimes he couldn't believe how dense she could be. "You know, like online."

Elsa nodded, but Will couldn't tell if she understood or didn't believe him. She could, as dense as she was, have her feelings hurt at the drop of a hat. Or, in this case, at the drop of her pants.

Will never ceased to be amazed at how perfect her pussy was. And her ass and

asshole. He had asked her to shave her pussy once and the next time they were together she had done it. Will stared at her pussy. He moved in between her legs, lifted her ass and looked at her matching pink asshole, puckered and completely hairless.

"You like?" she asked. And it was at those times Deputy Will Dawson wandered if Elsa, being dimwitted, wasn't all an act. Did he like it? Who in the fuck wouldn't like it? "You can lick me there if you like," she had said, meaning her asshole. That had given his erection an erection.

Will lightly flicked his tongue over the puckered hole, the feeling of the soft, smooth skin on his tongue surprised him. He had thought an ass would feel rough for some reason. Elsa moaned and pulled her legs up.

"Do it some more," she said. "I think I could cum that way."

"Really?" Will asked, his cock hurt it was so hard.

"Yes, I think so," Elsa said, tilting her head back.

Will got the message: Shut up and continue what you're doing.

Elsa would come over to his apartment, strip naked and just lay on his bed, spreading herself for him, pulling her pussy lips apart, slipping a finger inside and then tasting it.

"I see why you like to do that so much," she said.

"Do what?" Will asked, knowing what she meant, but wanting to hear her say it.

"Lick my pussy."

He would feel a wave, an intense wave of incredible eroticism sweep over him when she said that. Then she would follow up by turning on her side, lifting her leg up and spread her ass apart. "And my ass," she would say. "Does it taste good too?"

But now, laying here flicking his thumb over her nipple and Elsa responding by taking his cock in her hand and stroking it, Will pondered, for the millionth time, what his future held with Elsa.

"Is something wrong?" Elsa asked. His cock, in her loving hand, was as limp as a piece of rope.

"No, sorry, I was just thinking," Will said.

Elsa, saying no more, positioned herself over Will, her legs spread apart on either side of his head, his favorite position.

"Lick my pussy," she told Will before she took his cock in her mouth. It was a game they often played, trying to make the other cum first.

Will moved his hands around to her ass and pressed her pussy to his mouth, sliding his tongue over her clit and feeling Elsa moan with a vibration from her mouth on his cock. The cock that was no longer limp as a rope, but as hard as concrete. Will had to close his eyes. If he looked at from this angle he would surely lose. He liked to make Elsa cum first. If he got her going she would stop sucking him and lean back, grinding herself into his face. After she came she would go down on him again, but this time she would do it with a vengeance, sucking on him like her life depended on it and he'd cum hard all the while staring at that beautiful pussy and ass just inches from his face.

Except this time she had got the drop on him because his mind had wandered. She had sensed it and started to run her hand, slick with her own saliva, over his cock as her mouth kept the same rhythm.

Will tried to stop her, but it was too late. He came in her mouth and he could feel, what she didn't swallow, run down between his legs.

Will grabbed Elsa's ass and pushed her pussy down to his tongue. She sat up and Will moved his tongue from her clit, over her lips and to her ass. Elsa moved her hips back and forth, her breathing coming in short, panting gasps.

Will never tired of her new found pleasure with her ass, the wonderful feeling of the soft, puckered hole on his tongue, sliding back and forth between her lips and clit. And just as Elsa was ready to cum, Will so in tune to the signs, his shortwave crackled with Annie's voice calling for him.

"Two, this is base, over."

Will had to stop Elsa. She hadn't cum, but she was within seconds, if not sooner, of doing so.

"I'm sorry, I have to get that," Will said sliding out from under Elsa, leaving her looking like he had something taken away from her.

Will picked up the portable radio. "Two here, over," Will responded.

"What's your twenty, Will?" Annie asked, the tone of her voice not the usual there's-a- cat-stuck-in-a-tree tone.

"Just near Barrett's," Will replied, lying, of course, giving Annie the location of the

restaurant about a half a mile away.

"Chief wants you to meet him in the woods across from Eagle Rock Plaza."

"Why?"

"Didn't say. All he told me was for you to meet him there."

"What's going on, Annie?" Will asked, noticing the unusual evasiveness in her voice.

"Stone said he would tell you." It was all she would say.

"Roger," Will said, dejected. "I'm on my way."

Will placed the portable radio on the dresser and finished putting on his uniform as quickly as he could.

"What's going on?" Elsa asked, crawling to the edge of the bed on her hands and

knees.

"Something is up," Will said, ignoring, but not completely, the little girl way Elsa was looking at him, her breasts hanging down, swaying on purpose. But she knew better. It didn't happen often, not nearly as often as Deputy Will Dawson would like it to, but once in a while something big, something serious happened and when it did Will wanted to be part of it.

"When will we meet again?" Elsa asked, grabbing a shirt and slipping it over her

breasts.

"When is dip shit due back?"

"Tomorrow," Elsa said, the disappointment so evident it hurt.

"And when is he on the road again?"

Except Elsa didn't answer, at least not right away.

"When is he due back?" Will repeated.

"I heard you," Elsa snapped.

"If you rather I didn't come any more," Will said, not meaning one syllable of it.

"Don't say that!" Elsa yelled. "I'm not angry with you. Yes, I am angry with you. I take it back."

"Why?" Will asked, buttoning his shirt. Women sometimes, he thought, it's no wonder men can never figure them out. I'm not angry with you. No, I change my mind, I am angry with you. What the fuck. "I mean, technically, I'm still..."

"That's not what I meant," Elsa cried, interrupting Will. "I don't care about the

cumming."

"Then what the hell is wrong?" Will grabbed his gun belt and strapped it on. He carried a Glock .9 mm, a gun he had come to love when he was in the military, a fucking Marine right out of high school, Paris Island, South Carolina, boot camp, where he became a man over the course of one hot summer. A man who had become an expert marksman during his four year stint in the service.

"He will be home for a week," Elsa said sadly. "He's taking a weeks vacation." Then she started to cry. "Why don't you take me away when you had the chance, Willy?" The question rhetorical at this point. She had asked it before many times. And it was a question Will had asked himself more times than he could remember.

"I'm sorry," Will said and meaning it. He clipped on his portable radio and came to her. His little Polish girl, naked, except for a thin T-shirt, a perfect metaphor for her entire life. He sat and hugged her.

"Can't you do something to free me?" she cried.

"Like what?" Will asked.

Elsa reached out and touched his shoulder looking down at holstered Glock.

Stone pulled his cruiser into the narrow dirt road that led into the woods across from Eagle Rock Plaza. He didn't want to park on the street to draw attention, just in case it was something other than the body of some decomposing animal - which he expected it would be. Chet Lawrence wasn't crazy, but the chance there was an actual body were slim.

The woods and brambles on either side of the narrow dirt road were as thick as

concrete. Almost claustrophobic. That went on for about fifty feet or so before the area opened up.

Stone looked straight ahead where the dirt road finally tapered off then veered to his right and led to Lexington road. From that point, where the road veered right - you would need a four-wheeler to make it with all the ruts and deep holes - Stone would would begin his search. Chet had told Annie the body was in a thicket of high weeds.

There was an unusual calm in the woods. Like a predator was there, everything was quiet, not wanting to be the victim. Too quiet. It made Stone uneasy.

"Get it together," Stone said to himself, and the sound of his own voice loud in the

silence.

A cell phone began to ring. The hip-hop ring tone coming from the tall grass off to his left. Stone moved forward, the tall grass smooth on the top like the surface of a small pond until the depression, like the tall grass getting sucked into the ground, caught his eye. The depression about five feet long and a foot and a half wide, left no more room for Stone's dead carcass theory.

Stone stepped towards the impression, still hoping beyond hope, that some fool was playing a trick on him. It was not beyond some of the teenagers in this town to pull a practical joke like this. He'd be angry, as angry as he had ever been, but deep inside he would be relieved, glad in fact, it had been just a joke. But he knew it was not a joke. It was too elaborate to be a hoax. The timing, the location, too much left to chance for some fool to be laying there in wait, popping up when Stone finally arrived.

The cell phone rang again and Stone flinched, his nerves on edge now, the sound coming just to his left in the tall grass. Stone knelt down and moved the tall grass aside with his hands, a reflection caught his eye and then he saw the black iPhone. He just stared, the enormity of what was happening just starting to sink in, before he reached in to grab the phone and then stopped. This was now a crime scene, he thought. Where was his fucking head? The cell phone was possible evidence and he had almost picked it up and contaminated it with his prints.

He had latex gloves in his car, never thinking to bring because he never, ever thought he would need them.

Stone looked around and found a Snickers bar wrapper cast aside on the road. He picked it up and then carefully enveloped the phone inside the wrapper.

Carefully, so as not to leave any of his fingerprints on it, Stone opened the cell phone. 1 missed call Mark's cell phone. Stone frowned, the weight of recognition sinking in on him.

Stone cleared the message and the screen saver appeared. A picture he recognized and Stone looked to the depression in the tall grass, the strands swaying in the light breeze, the utter immensity of what lay beneath too much for him to comprehend. A million thoughts ran through his mind, but he had to stop them, get to the body, get the crime scene secure. He had become too conditioned to small town life and dealing with all the bullshit problems local law enforcement threw at him. Too conditioned and, he hated to admit, too lazy.

Stone wrapped the cell phone in the discarded wrapper and put it in his pocket. And then he walked towards the depression in the tall grass.

As he moved in closer the body of a young girl was revealed, the position of the arms and legs askew, twisted at impossible angles, or so it seemed. The girl had a plastic bag over her head, tied around the neck with half inch thick rope, the girl's face unrecognizable through the plastic, but Stone had a good idea, from the cell phone who it was. He just couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Stone moved carefully through the tall grass and had to take the girl's pulse, had to be sure she was dead, but knowing, just from the grayish color of her skin, there would be no need.

Stone put his index and middle finger on the girl's wrist and held it there for as long as he could stand. The coldness of the skin feeling so unnatural, so deathlike. No pulse. Nothing.

Stone quickly surveyed the area. He would have to get back to his car, wait for Will, secure the scene and call the coroner's office. And then, after, he would have to contact the girl's parents and break the news.

Jane Carson, early morning, already dressed in tan slacks and a white blouse, was going to be forty this coming June, the sixth of June to be exact, and she was dreading it. Christ, she thought, standing in the kitchen, early morning, fixing some bagels and cream cheese for breakfast, where had the time gone? She could remember high school like it was yesterday. Some of the best years of her life and now it was gone, their twenty-five year reunion coming up in three years. Unbelievable, she thought.

She wasn't dreading the reunion as much as she was turning 40. She had taken care of herself to a certain degree. She kept herself well dressed - she could afford to with Harry's business - and kept in good shape. She walked four miles a day and kept the gray hairs from poking through by keeping her hair short and dyed an ash blond, kept her nails done too. She wasn't sagging anywhere, yet. Her breasts, thank God, had stayed relatively firm - at least Harry thought so when she occasionally succumbed to his advances - and the paunch of having children had never made it's way to Jane. Her stomach looked like it did when she was 25.

But her sex drive had diminished, rapidly, over the last few years.

"The early signs of menopause," her doctor had told her.

"Christ, I thought menopause hit when you were in your mid-forties," Jane had replied.

"Not all the time," her doctor said.

"Great," Jane said, disgusted. "I'm one of the lucky ones."

And it wasn't as if she was really depressed over the fact she wasn't going to be

sexually desirous towards Harry any more - that feeling had started long before menopause - but she knew it was going to put a crimp in their marriage. Harry was a very sexual man and expected sex, at the very least, two or three times a week . Jane thought he would do it every night if he had the time. If she was refusing him, even the two or three times a week, Harry could make life worse than it already was. Which is not to say it was a living hell, far from it, Harry had made them all quite comfortable with his business. Jane had just learned to accept the fact that in order for a man to be successful, well, he had to be sort of an asshole. The my-way-or-the-highway mentality. It was the same as her father, so Jane was no stranger to it. It was just turning 40 on top of that and developing menopause at an early age, was a

tough pill to swallow.

"Are you up?" Jane yelled. She waited for the inevitable silence. She put down the butter knife, walked out of the kitchen and ran into Mark Carson, her sixteen-year-old son. "Oh," she said. "Why didn't you answer?"

"I was just about to," Mark said.

"Is your sister up yet?" Jane asked heading back into the kitchen.

"I don't know. I didn't hear her."

"Denise!" Jane yelled. "It's almost seven!"

Mark, a stocky boy, that stood only about 5' 9" with light brown hair like his sister,

walked into the kitchen and sat down at the counter. A bagel and tall glass of fresh orange juice awaiting him.

"Could you check on her for me?" Jane asked.

Mark sighed, almost said something, but then took a bite of his bagel before stalking back upstairs.

"Shit for brains," Mark yelled as he climbed the stairs. "Time to get your ugly ass up."

"Mark!" Jane yelled from the kitchen. "Please watch the mouth."

Mark punctuated each step as he climbed the stairs. Always second fucking fiddle to his goddamned sister. She could get step in shit and come out smelling like a fucking rose, Mark thought as he thundered up the stairs. If she wasn't up before, surely his pounding feet on the stairs would do the trick.

But Mark had to admit, as her senior year was coming to a close, she had become somewhat tolerable. Actually seemed to have settled down and Mark had thought that was never going to happen. Denise was that spoiled little rich kid with a reputation at school - especially with Connor Williams - that had always made Mark uncomfortable. He was the good child, the one who didn't get into trouble, but you would think he was the one who had the bad reputation at school.

Mark reached the top of the stairs, turned left and banged on the bedroom door

immediately to his right.

"You decent?" Mark yelled. He waited and there was no answer. He banged again. "Dork, you up yet? It's almost seven o'clock in the morning." Still no answer. That was unusual. Normally she would be throwing something at the door or yelling something profane back at him. Mark turned the knob of her bedroom door and swung it open.

Jane took out some money for lunches from her purse and placed it on the counter top, where she had been placing the money for years. A kind of melancholy swept over her. Next year it would only be money for Mark. Denise would be off to college, finally coming to her senses and telling Jane she had made a decision.

She had even told Jane she was going to break it off for good with Connor Williams. She hadn't told Harry yet. As far as Harry was concerned Connor Williams had been out of the picture for a while now. Harry had no love lost for Connor Williams and hadn't been shy about letting everyone, including Connor, know about it.

"Just tell me where we went wrong?" Harry had yelled one night, earlier in the year, when he had found out Denise was seeing Connor. "That you would choose someone like that?"             

"Like what?" Denise asked.

"Like Connor Williams for Christ's sake," Harry bellowed. "He's got the worst reputation in town. You don't know that? You don't have any clue about that?"             

Of course she had known about Connor's reputation, that was the attraction, but

besides that he was the best looking boy in school, hands down.