Kate Gets Her Man

Experts would have said that Tom Sullivan was a classic example of a domestic abuser. In public a loving husband and victim of an unsympathetic spouse, but at home a bit worse for the drink, an abusive and violent man. Kate came to know Tom Sullivan as a cheating, selfish, and immature individual with no impulse control. The kind of man no intelligent woman would stay married to.

Still, Kate forgave him twice for beating her. She knew this was two chances too many, but she did it for her son's sake. She walked after the third beating. It was either that or pull her service issue automatic the next time, and she was determined not to kill her son's father. There followed four years of hell. Everyone was on his side. He was required to pay child support but failed to pay.

The Courts were crowded and slow, and his family's overpriced attorney worked them like a fiddle. She finally threw her hands up and took the job at the other end of the state. He threatened to block her move until his attorney explained that the deal included no child support payments.

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Late Wednesday night with little Tommy in bed asleep Kate slipped on her shorty nightgown. It had been six years since she'd had a man in her life. She was no lesbian, she needed the feel of a man's hard body. She missed the touch of a man's rough skin and the tickle of his beard in her private places.

She lay down on the queen-size bed she'd brought with her from New York. It was the bed she had purchased with Tom for their first apartment. The bed they'd made love in. She would push him down on this bed, undo his belt, and pull down his pants till she exposed his cock. Then she'd run her tongue around the helmet of his sex. As he hardened, she'd lick up the sides. When the moment was right, she'd take him into her mouth. She did it slowly, working him into her mouth a little deeper with each stroke of her head. He would moan and try to push deeper, but she'd hold him back. She loved a man in her mouth almost as much as in her pussy. Taking Tom this way first meant he would last longer later when he was buried deep inside her.

At first she had not enjoyed the taste of semen, but now she missed it as much as the taste of his cock. She'd work him slowly into her throat till her nose was buried in the musky fragrance of his pubic hair. Then holding him still locked in her throat, she'd use her throat muscles to gently massage his cock head until he'd beg for release. Then she'd take him fast till he erupted into her mouth.

He would try to pull away after he came, but she would lock her arms around him until she had sucked down the last drop of his discharge. It was a blowjob technique she had taken instruction on.

Kate had been a virgin three months before marrying the exceptional handsome Thomas A. Sullivan. Tommy was a boy who—if the girls could be believed—had a lot of experience. Kate had wanted to bring something to her wedding night her husband would remember and for which there would be no regrets on her performance.

For three weeks, she'd searched for someone who could tell her how to fellatio her man. She asked almost every hooker she encountered on and off the job. She'd tried to be discreet, hiding this from Todd Wilson, the experienced officer she had been teamed with as a rookie.

Then one day Wilson said, "My wife wants you to come to dinner next Tuesday."

"Ok, should I bring my fiancee?"

"Not a good idea. It's my poker night, and the youngest will be sleeping over with a friend. Understand?" he said with a slow nod of his head.

Doris Wilson was a woman in her early fifties. She had the rounded figure that comes with age and menopause, but she was still a handsome woman. She sat Kate down at the Wilson's kitchen table and brought out a set of six phalluses. The instruction took two hours. There were jokes, giggles and much blushing from Kate's side of the table.

Over soup, Kate asked the question that had slowly begun to form, "Can I ask who taught you?"

"The madam in my first house ... Oh, don't be so shocked. My Todd knows, he arrested me several times before he worked up to asking me out. And yes that was the last time I turned a trick."

"And it wasn't a problem?"

Doris waved at the line of fake cocks. "There are many kinds of cocks but only two types of men. The kind worth having and the kind that are not worth your effort. Unfortunately, the first kind are small in number and the other far too many.

"With the good kind of man sex is the smallest part of the relationship. The right man will forgive anything for the woman he loves, and she must be willing to do the same for him," Doris said.

Doris gave her some final advice, "Remember, always finish him in your mouth and let him see you swallow his cum. It drives them crazy. You will get used to the taste."

"You don't find it a bit gross?" Kate said.

"You eat raw oysters?"

"Yes."

"First time did you think it a bit gross?"

Kate only nodded her head in reply.

"Trust me, girl, if you learn to give him pleasure you will learn to enjoy it," Doris said.

So Kate learned to give head from a woman who had mastered the art, and she had a real surprise for her husband on her wedding night. He surprised her as well. She thought his penetration would hurt her, but it didn't. Sex was something she came to with low expectations, and she was vastly surprised. What she didn't get was the love of a good man.

The first year of her marriage, she wore her husband out in the bedroom. Most days she fucked him until he was too limp to perform. But even in those days there were warning signs he had a roving eye. She often felt when they were out together that he was barely with her. It would have been so easy to cheat on him, but she would never do that. She was a one man woman. She just had the wrong man, and now she had none.

She was so horny and had no cock. So she reached deep into the drawer of her bedside table and brought out her silver bullet. The battery operated toy would have to do. As usual.

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Thursday morning she rose early to put Tommy on the school bus. He needed to be out the door by 7:17 a.m. as they were at the top of the bus route. It was the start of her four days off and that gave her time to investigate Denny Morgan. She was parked outside Morgan's apartment by seven thirty. Denny had been ordered out of his home on Ganienkeh Road and had moved into one of the numerous rental apartments he owned in the college town.

Normally Kate had a good morning run after putting Tommy on the bus. She had heard that Denny Morgan ran in the mornings as well and decided to follow him at a discrete distance, letting him know he was being watched and hadn't gotten away with it.

At seven forty-five Denny exited the top floor rear of an older two family house. He ran south toward the University campus. Kate followed him. He kept a good pace until he reached what she knew to be the College cross country route. At that point, he took off. He was remarkably fast for a small man.

He must have run a good ten miles before his route took him back home. Kate was winded but unbowed. She had kept up with the man. Of course, he was more than a half-foot shorter and ten years her senior, but she still felt she had accomplished her task. A half hour later he stepped out of his house and entered his vehicle. His car she felt an odd choice for an attorney. He drove a ten-year-old Honda Pilot. Not the prestige car she would have expected.

Denny stopped at the municipal lot off the Main Street. He entered the Lakeside Diner about 8:45—in good investigator fashion she made note of the time he left his home and reached the Diner. The Lakeside Diner was not by the lake but in the town center. Nor was it a traditional diner, located as it was in a nineteenth-century commercial building. It was, however, a local hangout favored by the legal and political crowd.

Thirty minutes later Denny exited the diner and walked the half block to where his legal office was located in a mid-block storefront. Kate entered the diner and took a seat where she could watch his office.

She had barely settled in with a coffee and bowl of hot cereal when Deputy Don Walker walked in with his road patrol partner.

"Hey what you doing here, Sarge?" he said.

"Having breakfast," she replied.

Don was one of those men who never understood the word NO when uttered by the female gender. He was in his mid-thirties, determinedly single and extreme good looking. Add his six-foot athletic body and he did not actually often hear No. He had been after Kate since her first day in the Sheriff's office, and he was the source of rumors about her sexuality.

It was not that Kate was not attracted, but he was way too similar in personality and manner to her ex-Husband. Still, she was coming to the realization that if something didn't happen soon she would have to bed the bastard if only to get some relief. Toys were useful, but she needed the real thing.

Don and his partner gathered their take-out coffees and departed. They were no sooner gone when a thirtyish blond woman in business dress sat down at Kate's table.

"Hello, I'm Alice—"

"Blake. I know who you are, Counselor, and who you represent," said Kate to the attorney she knew represented Desi Morgan.

"Good, I was hoping we could help each other," said Alice.

"Sorry, I work for the Sheriff and my investigations are not public unless he says so," Kate said.

"Let me rephrase. I was hoping to help you with the information I have," Alice said.

"I'm not sure that we are still investigating your client's attack," Kate said warily.

"Well, I heard that you are not the kind of officer who gives up so easily. So let me share this with you," Alice said, discreetly passing a document to Kate.

"When you read it you will see it is a financial statement for Dennis Morgan. It shows him to be far wealthier than anyone around this town suspects, but if I were to guess it shows only a small fraction of his real net worth.

"You see, everyone looks at Denny and says that is not the kind of man to jealously attack his spouse and her lover. But what if the motive was money? Denny lives modestly. People know he has money, yet he lives like the average guy. No one suspects the enormous wealth he has. Wealth he would go to great trouble to protect," Alice said.

"Sorry, counselor, but rape and assault are crimes of passion," Kate said. She held onto the document more from curiosity than duty.

"You will never corner a man like Denny thinking inside the box. Yesterday, after the DA killed the charges against him, Denny filed suit against his wife and her lover. Thirty-seven causes of action for slander, libel, and malicious prosecution. You see, he is suing her. No matter what she gets in the divorce, he plans on taking it back," Alice said.

This made Kate sit back in her chair and smile.

"It's not funny," Alice said.

"I wasn't laughing. I was just thinking how unhappy I'm going to make Mr. Morgan when I get him—but now I have to go," Kate said, seeing Denny leaving his office through the diner window.

Alice followed her line of sight and nodded, saying," I'll keep in touch."

Kate nodded in reply and hurried after Denny. As it turned out, he was going to the Courthouse. For Kate, this was a familiar place. She knew the guards on the entry door. They waved her past the security. She easily followed Denny into a part of the Courthouse where she had never been.

In a small hearing room, a judge's bench had been set up. The lawyers were gathered at the front. They were passing comments and laughing at jokes. Denny seemed to be the butt of most of the jokes. He seemed to take it well and give back with a few jokes of his own. Kate did not normally see the lawyers in what she assumed was their general work setting. They acted much like the officers in the squad room at shift briefing.

Her experience told her there was always an officer or two who played the fool for the others. It was clear to her that Denny was the fool and maybe like many before him he resented the role, even while he played it to the hilt. The judge came in they all rose, and the proceedings began. There was nothing more than a series of motions that the individual attorneys argued.

Kate sat in the last row and perused the Morgan financial disclosure form. Alice Blake was right. Dennis Morgan was a wealthy man. The key to his wealth seemed to be the bar. Kate recalled his statement on the night of the arrest about the low price of beer. Whatever the price it was highly profitable and she soon understood why. The County was currently booming with microbreweries. Part of the reason was the natural spring waters that filtered through a Dolomite formation, and the other was the return of many farmers to growing hops. Beer requires hops, this crop had been a staple several generations ago in New York and had returned. Morgan was invested in all of it.

Looking at the report, it soon became clear that Denny had what amounted to a linear monopoly. He owned a part of each brewery and a long list of farms. Whatever he sold beer for he was getting it cheap and making money both sides of the transaction. His fingers had spread into numerous restaurants and drinking establishments. The last page of the report was a list of his real estate holding. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed that Denny Morgan owned half the County in value if not in square acres.

The report, however, seemed incomplete. The assets were listed, but there seemed to be no liabilities. Moreover, there were only three bank accounts listed, all at the Tyler County Bank and Trust. No balances were listed. The report was not certified by an accountant or signed by anyone. It was marked as a draft and undated. Alice Blake was right - this was only part of the story.

When the hearings finished, Kate sat up straight making sure that Denny saw her as he exited. She wanted him to know she was watching. She wanted to worry him. She wanted him looking over his shoulder for her. She was coming to the conclusion that Denny's attack on the lovers was an act partly of passion and partly of greed. However, whatever the motive and however he might appear on the surface, this was a smart, deliberate man. Dennis Morgan was a planner and a schemer. The attack was well thought out and prepared beforehand. That was why there was no physical evidence, but how he had convinced so many people he was where he was not?

Denny made only one more notable stop that day before Kate had to leave to meet her son's school bus. He stopped at the YMCA to swim in the pool. Kate was watching him swim laps in the pool from the observation deck. He was a remarkably elegant swimmer, and that was the word for it. He seemed to pass through the water without friction. He wasn't in bad shape for a man his age either. He must be in his early forties, but he was in reasonably good shape. He was no muscle man. His was a lean build, but not excessively so. As she should have expected after that impressive run that morning.

"He's beautiful isn't he," an older woman wearing a YMCA Gym shirt said.

"Yes in a way I guess he is," Kate said.

"You so rarely see a stroke like that. It looks so totally effortless. If only he had been two inches taller," the older woman said.

Kate realized that the woman was referring to the beauty of the swimming stroke. Kate gave her a quizzical look," taller?" she said.

"Two-tenths of a second closer to the wall and he would have made the Olympic swimming team," the woman said.

Kate could only shake her head. Denny was beautiful, and it was not just the swim stroke. His looks were not movie star pretty, but there was something all male about him. A physical presence that was real. And yet he wore a mask. He was perhaps the most deceptive man she knew and just maybe the most interesting. But make no mistake, he would be made to pay for his crime. Sergeant Kathryn Keenan was determined that Dennis Morgan would pay the maximum penalty.

________________________________________________________________

Kate followed and harassed Denny for two months on and off duty. She went over every detail of the crime. It had been well planned. At a little before 9:40 p.m. the lights in the Montague went off briefly. All the witnesses remembered the first electrical failure. Most remembered a second failure possibly at or after 10:40. Everyone seemed to remember the fight that Denny had stopped and the time of that could be clearly fixed at 10:47. The good judge could place Denny or more specifically Denny's Cornell ring in the booth at about 10:00 p.m. when the Yankee's first night game of the season ended. Both the Yankee's game and a Celtic's Basketball game had been playing on the large twin 70" TV screens over the Bar.

Kate went over every detailed. She when back and question each individual she could find. Anyone who had been in the bar after 9:30 p.m. This included every employee except the kitchen staff since they left well before the lights went out the first time. She turned up only witness saying they saw Denny in his back booth. The judge was the killer witness with his affidavit placing Denny in the bar as the Yankee game ended.

The maximum Kate figured Denny could have been gone was between twenty minutes and an hour depending on whether the judge was correct in what he saw. An hour was barely enough. Kate had found a back route from the bar to the Morgan house that could be traversed by a four-wheel-drive vehicle, such as a Hondas Pilot. The first time she tried it in the Sheriff's patrol SUV it had taken far too long but with a little practice the time improved appreciably. With enough practice, Denny could have done the route in say twenty minutes, with a round trip of forty minutes. That gave him twenty minutes to commit the crime and dispose of the evidence.

If the crime was committed between say 10:00 and 10:20, the time schedule was tight, but a determined man with a plan could do it. She had a grudging admiration for Dennis Morgan even as she hated the vile thing that he had done. She was no hypocrite. She knew the desire for revenge and violence that infidelity could instill in a person. She had been there, but good people resist the impulse. They certainly do not plan and practice to bring pain and suffering. Dennis had to be chastised. He had to pay a penalty, and it was Kate's job to bring that about.

Several times, as she drove the route she believed Morgan would have followed, she saw men on horseback with weapons. They watched her as she drove her Sheriff's vehicle. They were - she knew - Native Americans, part of a group that claimed land exempt from taxes. The dispute had been waged for years between the County and the Mohawks. If they were patrolling, they could have seen Morgan driving this route. The problem was they would never cooperate. To them, the County and the State were the enemies. Still would not others have seen Morgan racing his car along an almost unused back route? Why would a white lawyer know such a road by heart unless he practiced it?

For the next two months Kate followed, watched and harassed Dennis Morgan. She ticketed him for the slightest infraction. All of which he paid without complaint. She kept him under her constant surveillance, but he seemed to shrug it off. She meant to force him into giving himself away. It did not seem to be working until one bright summer's day she followed him down a quiet side street, and he made a U-turn right in front of her.

Kate flipped on her lights and sirens and pulled him over. As she approached his vehicle with her ticket book out he rolled down his window.