Homicide Detective's Dilemma

When the weekend arrived, Rochelle packed a few necessities but left lingerie and body wash in the drawer. She was in stealth mode, concerned Sherrod might get suspicious. She planned her weekend getaway with care. The cover story she told him was she was visiting her mom in Atlanta. That covered her trip to the airport. Her mom disliked Sherrod, so there was little chance he and her mom would compare stories. Rochelle had a separate cell phone account, which would keep him from keeping a digital tab on her. She planned to stop along the way, and get some very special under garments and things. She wanted to be irresistible to Tim, and she wanted to feel her absolute sexiest for him. She carefully matched those under garments to compliment her skin tone, and the bright red lipstick she planned to wear. She again reassured herself this could just be a friendly get together.

Rochelle embraced Sherrod before leaving, and kissed him with passion. She had feelings for him, and it was easy to show it. Sherrod kissed her back the way a lover would, and bid her farewell. He pushed himself into her at the hips, but she insisted her flight departure time required her to leave. His fledgling erection reminded him there were other options.

Sherrod rattled off a text to Sandra, letting her know his weekend was free. Did she have "firm" plans? He had met her on a dating site, where white women go to hook up with black men. Sherrod had sent her a dick pic when they began communicating online. It made her lustful and careless. She had to see it...him in person. She replied in kind, with a photo of her naked while touching her tongue to the dick photo he sent. They hooked up soon, after that exchange. They hooked up many times after that. The get togethers seemed to coincide with times where Rochelle would leave him wanting. Sandra was wealthy, entitled, self-absorbed and straight up fuck-able. He felt a tinge in his loins when her flirtatious reply came in.

****

I was delayed getting off the ranch on time. The horses needed to be fed in my absence, so I set up full bale nibble nets for them. They weigh about 100 pounds, and it took me several tires to hoist them up, using only upper body strength. I had security cameras, which allowed me to check in at will, to make sure they were ok. They had water, shelter and lush green grass in their turnouts. I needed to know all was in order at home, so I could enjoy the weekend. It wasn't too long a drive to the hotel, but it was tricky finding parking for my dually (truck with dual rear wheels). I almost pranced when I exited the truck, and headed towards the hotel lobby. I didn't feel sexy in my every day life, but this was special. My senses were heightened, my libido was firing on all cylinders. Alpha male confidence oozed from my pores. I went commando, just to toughen up my cock. I planned to seduce this woman, earn my right to take her like something I wanted badly (but had no right to). Desensitizing my cock would keep pleasure on the menu, like an On-Demand hot water heater. I was so distracted, I walked into a planter box and nearly fell.

****

Rochelle arrived at the strip club a couple hours early. She asked to see the manager. The manager agreed to the plan she laid out for him, and Rochelle went about her preparations.

****

I was dressed in new Wrangler jeans, new leather belt (with a buckle I had won in Reining), square toed boots, a pearl snap-button shirt and Stetson hat. I selected an aftershave cologne that was appealing to the fairer sex. I dabbled it in select parts of my body for Rochelle, setting up an adult Easter egg hunt. The stage was set. Now to put motion to plan...

****

When I walked into the club, and paused a moment just inside to get my eyes to adjust to the dark. A little trick of the police trade. The manager escorted me to a table in the front. The place was more than half full, with more patrons coming in at a rapid pace. A little voice in my head wondered why this table was still available. I ordered a single malt scotch and soda. Neat. I settled in with one eye towards the entrance, keeping vigil for Rochelle. After an hour, I began to lose faith. I'd texted her a few times, but she didn't reply. The lights faded, and the show started. At least they served good scotch, and I had a decent seat for the show. The first three dancers were attractive, and had beautiful bodies. I was on my second cocktail when the next girl came out. The glass nearly fell from my hand, mid swallow, when she sashayed onto stage. It was her! Rochelle came out to the Commodore's song, "Brick House", to a cheering crowd. She was a work of art. She stripped down to a red "G" string and black stiletto heels. Her rhythmic hips followed the beat, and would go into full on dry humping mode during the refrain. Her tits were massive and firm orbs. Rochelle paid about as much attention to me as she did with the other men there. I looked around the room, appraising the threat level. Who looked like they were going to get out of control and be a problem for me to handle, physically? I began mentally counting, and got beyond the number ten when I gave up.

The raucous crowd made it clear to the manager that his decision to allow Rochelle to dance was a good one. To their roar and applause, she made an encore right after a round of drinks were ordered for all by an older gentleman sitting at the table next to mine. He had an aire of someone used to being in charge. This could be another challenge to my plans, I thought.

****

When her set was over, Rochelle gathered up the money thrown at her feet, and/or pinned to her by her adoring fans. It added up to a significant amount, even after giving the house their cut. The older gentleman had attached his business card to a $100 bill. I was conflicted about leaving money. In the end, I left her a $100 bill with my phone number on it, and drew a small pair of hand cuffs.

I waited for Rochelle to emerge, alongside several other men. Rochelle came out in conservative clothes, to my approval. She politely thanked every guy in this makeshift receiving line. I watched closely, keeping an eye out for anything out of bounds. The older gentleman merely nodded softly towards me when she took my arm, and we left the club.

****

I escorted her to her hotel room. We spoke nervously and laughed a lot along the way. I wanted to hug her so badly, but merely kissed her cheek, just catching the corner of her red lips. The aroma left me a bit intoxicated. I told her my room was right next to hers, and I had left the adjoining door open for her. We agreed to meet in about an hour.

A little over an hour later, I heard a knock on my front door. It was Rochelle. She waited there, and it became clear she wanted me to come out. I grabbed my coat and joined her. I decided to let this play out organically. There would be no forced errors on my part. I stood very close to her in the otherwise empty elevator. She didn't seem to mind, so I felt encouraged. I had made a reservation for us at a small French restaurant. It was about a mile away and we took my dually. It had bucket seats, but she allowed my hand to settle over hers for the drive.

Dinner was very nice. We sat close together. I moved my chair so that our arms would brush each other time to time. I avoided any discussion about her son, unless she brought him up. She didn't. We updated each other on our lives, and spent most of the time looking into each others eyes. At times, she would look away smiling, but that only encouraged me to keep looking. I smiled a smile of excitement and longing, mixed with a little, "I promise not to do anything you don't want to." She probably just saw the smile, sans all the subliminal messages. The meal was light, but neither one of us finished our plates. We decided to skip dessert for now.

The drive back to the hotel was warm and inviting. Her hand reached out for mine before I had time to reach first. When I held the passenger door for her at the restaurant and the again at the hotel, she slid in and out so that her breasts rubbed vigorously against my chest. I savored every moment. My gratification was in full receiving mode. Her "small" gestures were anything but small to me.

We decided to sit in the bar lounge and share an Apertif. Our chairs were almost stacked upon one another, we sat so close. I spoke in low tones, and kept the conversation about how beautiful she was. I shared my earlier concern about getting out of the strip club without having to fight everyone there, and she laughed. We were halfway through the french dessert cocktail when she suggested we go upstairs. I led her to the elevator, which we shared with several older couples, to our floor. As we rode up, I could feel her hand gently brush my hand, back and forth.

When we arrived at her door, she told me she would join me very soon, and use the adjoining door this time. My throat was too dry to speak, so I merely nodded in the affirmative.

When I entered my room, I busied myself with getting the room presentable. I chuckled when I realized it already was. I had nervous energy. I thought about going for a run, or doing push-ups...there was a tiny knock on the adjoining door as Rochelle came through it. The nervous energy evaporated, leaving me in a primal state. I could only think about the ever-shrinking distance between us, and my aspiration was reduced to not tripping (again) as I moved closer...

Rochelle was wearing a hotel robe with the belt loose in front, allowing me an extraordinary view of the jewels contained, therein. The jewels were that amazing body, encased in the same G string, stiletto heels and underwire bra. She had an expression that I had seen once before. That was back when she looked at me next to the courthouse, after I closed her car door. I finally understood that had been a signal.

Like a dance, I moved into her and helped her remove the robe. Her shoulders rotated back to assist me in the unveiling. I pressed my body into her as the robe cleared from her hands. I hadn't yet kissed those full lips, and moved my mouth slowly towards hers. It started off like ballet, each of us so gentle and graceful. Our first kiss was everything a first kiss should be, but even more than that. Our tongues moved in and out of each other's mouth, slowly and in a manner one would use their tongue to enjoy a sweet treat. This was gelato without the subsequent brain freeze! It was as if the molecules making up each of us were attempting to fuse our faces into one. That thought sounded kind of gross, but I accepted every micro inch of her skin into mine. My cock was in full erect mode, but I refused to cheat the rest of my body, and give in. I wanted it all, and felt that by prolonging each moment, we would share longer moments, more first touches, soft words and physical expressions.

The ballet turned into 1950s Jazz by the time I laid her on the bed. I tried to gently lower myself onto to her, but was caught in the undertow of her longing hands. Gravity now thwarted, I moved around her like a jellyfish. A very hard jellyfish. My cock was moist from pre-cum as she straddled my supine frame. I ran my hands over her back, ass and legs with a hunger that my fingertips could satisfy themselves with. My hands were working her body, and her low moans told me this was wanted touching. I stayed away from the known erogenous zones, because I was finding the hidden ones. She was particularly responsive to my kissing and nibbling on her nipples. They were erect, and I enjoyed them with unabashed pleasure. We rolled around on the bed, sometimes with me on top, sometimes with her on top. I could feel her hips grinding into mine, our sexual parts meshing, rubbing and sliding over one another. This lasted for a long time. We were both enjoying foreplay. Each moment was validation that our love-making would not be a disappointment.

In the natural order of things, my first contact with her pussy was with my mouth. I had slid to a 45*angle to her with my head facing her body. I tasted her with my tongue and gauged her response. She guided my leg over her head, before taking my cock into her mouth. I could only imagine those ruby red lips, as she traced the under portion of my shaft with her tongue. I greedily took her pussy into my mouth. She deserved the tongue-lashing, and repaid me by taking my cock deep into her mouth. The moans were sensual and intense. I was struck by the contrast of my cave man-esque tone to her very feminine one. I brought her to orgasm, and welcomed her bodies release into my mouth. She increased the intensity of movement of her mouth, but I guided her face up to mine and kissed her long and hard. Our tongues darted and probed, I would move onto her neck at times, to kiss, nuzzle then bite. The 1950's Jazz was picking up tempo, and our actions were guided less by design, and more by instinct. She rubbed my erect appendage across her labia, with ever increasing speed and pressure. We offered each up to the altar of hedonistic pleasure with nothing held back. When I first penetrated her, it was from behind. She was on her knees, ass up high with her head against the head board. This provided me plenty of resistance as I thrust inside. Her body pushed back in rythym to my thrusts. Her low moans grew louder, and the cave man in me took over. I grasped her hips with my powerful and large hands, pummeling her pussy with unstoppable determination. I felt her cum just before she screamed out. It only encouraged me to increase the speed and thrust. I resisted the urge to cum, favoring the need to continue over release. Rochelle cried out, which made me reconsider ending. Before I did, I felt her ass slam harder into my hips as we collided. She whimpered in low tones, while pushing that incredible ass back into my offending hips. I felt her shudder several more times in orgasm. I redoubled my effort, and took that pussy like it belonged to me.

I was in a semi-conscious state when I felt my orgasm build. There was no chance of denying the inevitable. How long had we been screwing like this? It was still dark out, so clues were not obvious. When I came, it felt like I was flooding the inside of her body, not making some mild deposit. I collapsed on top of her. Our sweaty bodies sliding into one another. She lay there with slits for eyes and a completely satisfied look on her face.

I reflected that I had just fucked that woman with a ferocity that bordered on violence. It took more out of me than the matches I played soccer in back in college. Were both activity's ninety-minutes in duration? I'm pretty certain one was much longer. By her expression, Rochelle was no victim. Her slumber allowed me to just stare and enjoy the vision before me. I reminded myself she gave herself to me, without reserve, and I to her. I drifted off to sleep with that wonderful thought in my head...

Sometime on the middle of the night, Rochelle stirred. I opened my eyes to her lying next to me, that same smile on her face. Those eyes were fixed upon me. Her lips looked like they needed kissing, so I obliged them. She returned the favor, and the ballet began.

****

In the next installment of this story, the weekend continues. Tim and Sherrod have a reckoning, while more of the story is told through Rochelle. With the backing of a wealthy investor, the strip club manager sets his sights on a new Head-Liner, a dark star with a bright future. Cowboys, Vixens, Cops, Strippers, Jilted Lovers, Horses, unrestrained Libidos and Evil Masterminds. What could possibly go wrong?