Lawyer, Lawyer Pt. 01

"Yeah, what the hell else is there?" Karen asked. We'd started out with her bent over the chair and me fucking her from behind, then switched to me sitting on the chair with her riding me, then switched to her riding me while facing away from me, then switched to her on her hands and knees on the floor. And then this one, also George's idea, with him grabbing Britney's blonde hair to hold her in place and me doing the same with Karen's red tresses.

"Maybe it ends up in good old missionary," I grunted, yanking her back yet again to keep pace with George.

"I want to fuck your ass, Senator," George says, "just like you've been fucking all the voters."

"Oh, hell no," Karen cried. "No way, Jason."

She wasn't in much of a position to resist if I'd really wanted to, but it didn't come to that. Just the idea of it was enough to make me lose it. Holding her in place, I groaned and shot my load deep into her. That was enough for her, too. Although George hadn't really given a lot of consideration to Britney's climax, Karen had gotten so turned on by the whole thing that she started her own climax just after I did.

We remained in that position for the next few minutes, watching in disbelief as Britney eagerly accepted George's cock into her rectum. It wasn't a small cock but -- fortunately for Britney -- neither was it the same monster I'd seen on "Gerald Warren" on the Gillian Anderson video. Of course, if they were doing four shows a day, it was pretty damn unlikely that the same guy was performing in all of them. Meanwhile, watching George, I found myself getting hard again inside Karen, a new personal best for recovery.

"George" was done. I was just getting started again.

**********

My offer to call Drew after the holidays turned out to be unacceptable and unnecessary. It was three o'clock on Christmas Eve when I was summoned to the phone.

"Jason?" asked the nasal voice. "This is Drew."

"You sound like shit," I said.

"Yeah, sorry," his voice returned to normal. "I was afraid Karen would answer."

"And recognize your voice after fourteen years?" I laughed. Of course, that was entirely possible. "What's up?"

"We need to talk," he said soberly. "I'm at the Denny's."

"Paul and Anne Denny's? On Ash Street?"

"No, the Denny's that used to be the Shoney's. On Locust."

"Oh yeah. Well, look, today's Christmas Eve, tomorrow's Christmas, there's all the traffic, what do you say we meet on Sunday, around ten?"

"What do you say you get your ass over here now?" His voice had a raw edge to it.

"And the good reason for me to do that is?"

"Julie Pinsky was taken into federal custody earlier today."

"Twenty minutes," I said.

CHAPTER FOUR

"Taken into custody by whom?" I hissed as I slid into the booth.

"The FBI."

"Excuse me, but you're the fucking FBI," I said, perhaps unnecessarily.

"I am, but not an agent on this case anymore."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Here, look at this video. We got it two days ago."

He flipped open his palmtop, 1024 gigabytes of memory that fit into a piece of electronics the size of a pack of playing cards. I'd owned two of them, and gave them up after the insurance company refused to pay for the second one, the one I'd dropped into the fishtank. A laptop was fine for me.

With the press of a few keys, Drew produced a holographic film of a girl jogging in a park.

"Cute," I said. "Nice legs."

"Recognize her?"

I squinted at the picture. A waitress put a cup of coffee on the table and I absent-mindedly took a sip as I squinted harder.

"No," I finally said. "How far away were you, a mile and a half?"

"More or less. This is a park adjacent to the monastery that I told you about. It's public property but they would have noticed us if we'd been any closer. We were a little less than two miles away, in a cherry picker, working on the electric lines. How about now?"

He slid a close-up picture in front of me, printed on real paper this time.

"A young girl?" I offered.

"Keep looking."

"Maybe seventeen, eighteen?" I was obviously not making him happy.

"How 'bout this?"

He pressed some different keys on his palmtop, and we both heard a voice.

"May 30, 2005."

There was a pause and then a younger voice.

"Oh, fuck. That was incredible."

There was another click, and the series repeated itself. I heard it two more times.

"We aimed a directional microphone into the building in this video, and the only sounds it picks up are from a bathroom," Drew said. "Most of it is monks pissing and shitting. But we get this at 10:30 every night. At least for the last four nights, which is how long we've had it set up."

I waited for him to go on.

"Hi." Karen suddenly appeared at the side of the table. "Sorry I'm late. Hey Andy, shove over."

She kissed the stunned FBI agent on the cheek and forced him to slide farther over into the booth.

"Um, hello, uh, Mrs. Thompson," Drew stammered. "How, um, how are you?"

"Fine, thank you." Karen laughed. "I'm not going to bite you, Andy. You kept my husband out of jail. He says you've reformed. That's good enough for me."

She picked up the picture and gave them it a brief glance.

"Why do you have a picture of a young Julie Pinsky, Andrew?" she asked suspiciously. I snatched the picture out of her hand and stared at it. Darned if it wasn't.

I looked back up to see Drew staring at Karen. Then he pressed the keys on his palmtop again. The voice recording played again. Karen listened and then turned to me.

"Well, that's not Julie Pinsky," she flashed me a big grin.

"It is," Drew insisted. "I ran voice prints before I got pulled off the case. That is Julie Pinsky's voice."

"It's her voice, yes," Karen said. "But that was actually one of Jase's little dolls. Do you remember when she said that?"

"His dolls?" Drew asked.

"May 30, 2005?" I decided to guess the obvious.

"Asshole," she sighed. "Do you remember what we were doing on May 30, 2005?"

"No," I said. "Why? Should I? Was she with us?"

"Operation Bury Richie Rich?" Karen smiled.

"What?" Drew finally broke out of his immobility.

"Damn it!" I slammed my fist on the table. "So it is one of my dolls. God damn those fuckers."

"What do you mean, one of your dolls?" Drew asked again.

Over coffee the night before, with the kids replaying "The Grinch" over and over again, Karen had casually asked Mom what had happened to the two dolls that Karen used to keep in the closet in my room. She thought she might give them to Beth and Danny.

"Oh, I am so sorry, sweetie," Mom said. "I gave them away to that nice Mrs. Carter who lives down the street, for her daughter Martha. It was before Danielle was born. I guess I didn't even think of saving them for you."

"No problem," Karen said. "Don't give it another thought."

The next morning, Karen had casually left the house for a walk and dropped in on the Carters. Twenty-year-old Martha was happy to give up the blonde doll, particularly when Karen promised to write her a letter of recommendation for law school next year, but she had given the brunette to her best friend Lana Tuttle, and the Tuttles had moved to Chicago four or five years back.

Drew turned to Karen.

"One of his dolls?" He had obviously given up trying to get the answer from me.

Karen reached into her purse, and pulled out the blonde doll. Drew sat there in a sort of stunned stupor as Karen explained how the dolls worked and how she'd used them to her advantage, and his disadvantage, back in high school. He finally, grudgingly accepted it when I turned the blonde doll into another Karen Thompson, and told her not to lick my ear any more but just to sit there quietly.

"So what does that mean?" Drew asked. "That 'fuck, that was incredible.'"

"You remember asking me to the prom?" Karen asked.

Drew reddened.

"You remember the date?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"It was the Monday two weeks before the prom," Karen said. "Which was . . ."

Drew pressed some more keys on his palmtop and turned to us with a stunned look on his face.

"May 30, 2005," he whispered.

"We summoned Julie that night -- summoning is what we call transforming the doll into someone specific - to ask her why you'd done it," Karen said. "And she told us about the senior babe list, and your little fuck parties, and --"

"I get it," Andy said. "I get it."

"And then Jason made love to her."

"Made love to Julie?" Andy asked.

"Made love to the doll." Karen smirked. "To learn how to make love to Julie, so we could steal her away from you. You probably recorded this about eleven each night, right? That's when Jason gave her that last orgasm."

"Ten-thirty," Drew mumbled.

"Really?" Karen said. "I didn't think he was ever that quick. She was a tight little bitch though, wasn't she?"

Despite the teasing, she was looking at me with incredible pride.

"So what does it mean?" I asked.

"It means that, number one, this doll can turn herself into someone different, without any master," Karen said. "Just with her own voice. I remember I used the brunette doll. You always liked the blonde. So number two, for whatever reason, this doll keeps turning herself back into what she was that night. And then going jogging in that same body."

Andy was silent for a while longer before he finally turned to Karen.

"So those pictures weren't fake?" he asked Karen.

"No, Andy," she shook her head.

"So I did drug you?" he swallowed hard. "And, uh, rape you?"

"You tried," she said, with a nod toward the doll. "It just wasn't me."

"You know," he said, "all these years my father has refused to speak to me because of what he thinks I did to you."

"Andy, I'm sorry," Karen put a hand on his arm. "But --"

"No, no." He chuckled quietly. "If he knew what I actually tried to do to you, he'd have had me thrown in jail. That's the kind of guy he is. You saved my life, Karen McCarthy Thompson."

"My pleasure." Karen rubbed his arm. "Looks like you did okay with it. Speaking of which, are you Drew or Andy? He keeps calling you Drew and I still think of you as Andy."

He looked at me, and then at her.

"I think I'd like to be Andy again," he said quietly.

"Andy it is." Karen gave him another kiss on the cheek. "Now what's this about the real Julie Pinsky?"

Andy swallowed hard.

"I was at the FBI building when this film came in," he explained. "In a room with about ten other people. I recognized the girl immediately, and I yelled out, 'That's Julie Pinsky.' So then when the recording comes in, I had someone call Julie with some lame survey, and I got a voice print, which I checked against this one. Next thing I know, I get a transfer to the Flagstaff, Arizona office."

"Because someone doesn't want you to know it's Julie?" Karen asked.

"At a minimum because someone doesn't want me doing any more investigating," Andy said.

"So I don't understand," I asked. "Why take Julie?"

"I protested the transfer, which would normally give me another two months in D.C. until it got heard," Andy said. He looked up at us. "Julie was taken to encourage me to drop my protest."

"But why Julie?" I asked.

There was a long silence until Karen spoke up.

"Because somebody there knows he still loves her," she said softly, looking at Andy.

He nodded, and after a while looked up at both of us again.

"When I was in Colombia," he explained, "probably 20, 21 years old, I was on a hill by myself, with my stomach basically falling out, waiting for one of those drug squads to come finish me off. I was as good as dead, so I recorded a letter to Julie, asking her to forgive me for what I'd done to her, and telling her that not taking better care of our relationship in high school was the stupidest thing I'd ever done in my life. I told her that I hoped she had a great life, because nobody deserved it more than she did."

"And then?" I prompted him.

"Then I got better," he shrugged. "My guys found me, one of 'em got me stabilized and they managed to fix me up. But the letter became part of my file, and there are people in the bureau, obviously, who know about it."

"And are working for your enemies."

"So why are you here?" Karen asked him.

"Because I don't know who to trust in the bureau," he said. "And they don't know about you guys. And I was apparently right in thinking that you guys know a whole lot more about this than anyone else in the world."

"Okay," Karen said. She turned to look at me. "So what do we do?

"I can call the Bentons," I said, looking at my watch.

"The Bentons?" she asked with a quizzical expression. "What the hell for?"

"To feed the fish," I said. "Since Julie's not there. What were you talking about?"

"Freeing Julie, you ass." She reached across the table to punch me in the arm.

"Really," muttered the other Karen Thompson, the doll version, still sitting next to me in the booth. She punched me in the other arm.

"Hey," I complained. "You're gettin' kinda bossy for a living doll."

Those words, "living doll," were the magic incantation for changing a doll-turned-woman back into a doll again, and the blonde doll was now lying on the seat next to me.

"You really are such an ass," Karen repeated as I handed the doll back to her and she put her into her purse. "Oh, God, look at the time. Steve and Shelly will be at Mom and Dad's by now, and we've got Christmas Eve dinner. What are you doing for Christmas?"

Andy just blinked.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "You're talking to me?"

"Yeah, unfortunately, I know where this ass is spending Christmas." Karen shot me a dirty look. "You're not driving back, are you?"

"No, I have a --" he started. "I have a room at the Holiday Inn."

"The Holiday Inn?" Karen looked shocked, like she hadn't even realized they were open on Christmas. "Come on."

She got up and began tugging on his hand.

"Where'm I going?" he asked.

"Yeah, where's he going?" I repeated.

"Jason Thompson, you are so thick it probably never even occurs to you to wonder why I married you," Karen said. "He's coming home with us."

"With, uh, Mom and Dad?" I asked. "The last time they saw Andy they wanted him strung up."

"Oh, I'll fix it," Karen said. "Come on."

"What about Julie?" he asked.

"Julie is going to have the most miserable Christmas Eve and Christmas of her life," Karen said. "But there's nothing we can do about it now. We have the kids to think about. Tomorrow is soon enough."

It was a bittersweet Christmas. Karen had no trouble convincing Mom and Dad that Andy was a changed man, and that since she had forgiven him so should they. And for the kids' sakes, we had a big present-opening on Christmas morning.

But there were three of us whose hearts weren't in it. Three of us, in fact, who were exhausted from having spent Christmas Eve trying to figure out what to do to help Julie.

It was Andy's idea to use the blonde doll to summon Julie from her captivity. That wasn't a big help. She explained that she had answered a knock on her door, late at night, from a man with an FBI badge. He had started asking her questions about pornography, which she had refused to answer based on attorney-client privilege. Then at some point, she had been drugged, and had woken up the next morning in a locked windowless room. She hadn't been interrogated any further, and had generally been treated fairly decently.

"So are the guys taking care of you FBI agents?" I asked after Andy indicated he was done with his questioning.

She shook her head.

"Catholic priests."

"Living doll," I said, turning her back into a doll. I turned to glare at Andy.

"They turned her over to fucking Opus Christe?" I seethed.

"Yeah," he said, his shoulders slumped. "That happens."

"What happens?"

"They used to call it extraordinary rendition," he explained, "back in the 2000's when only the CIA did it. Then it became regular old rendition, and then when some Bureau guys started doing it, it became 'private arrests.' It's still officially frowned on, but everyone looks the other way."

"So we go after the doll," I said.

"The doll?"

"You said she goes jogging in this park, right?" I asked. "Every afternoon?"

"Yeah, usually late," he said. "So what?"

"So if we snatch her, we can trade her for the real Julie," I concluded. "They don't want the real Julie, they want the doll. This doll is turning herself into four celebrities every day and doing porno films for Catholic terrorists. She's a fucking gold mine for them."

Andy just sat there and nodded.

"Well, I guess I'm leaving for Iowa in the morning," he said. "I kind of had a feeling I would be all along."

"We're leaving," I said.

"All three of us," Karen said.

"Why all three of us?"

"Do you really think that Julie is going to get in a car with you, Andy Richardson?" she asked. "Besides, they'll be watching for you."

"How about you guys?" he asked. "They may not know you're involved with this, but if they see you check into a motel in Iowa, they'll start getting suspicious. You may not realize this, but every single credit card transaction in the United States runs through the FBI computers before it goes to the credit card company."

"Who needs a motel?" Karen looked at me.

I grinned back at her.

We left for Iowa late at noon on Christmas day in our SUV, which Andy had spent the morning filling with his gear after Karen had vetoed Andy's car. The kids were more than happy to spend time with their grandparents, and Shelly told us she'd be happy to stay there with them, and with her two, as long as we wanted. We found a motel in Indiana to spend Christmas night, and Karen went in to get us a room with cash she'd pulled out of her ATM.

"Where to?" I asked as she got back in the car.

"Around back," she said. "Second floor. God, this is making me horny."

"Everything makes you horny," I said quietly. I didn't think Andy needed to know quite this much. "What are the room numbers?"

"239," she said.

"And Andy's?" I asked.

She turned to look at me with a grin I'd never seen before.

"You know, I remember Julie Pinsky and me treating you really nicely about a week ago," she smiled.

"Yeah?" I asked. "So?"

"So why should you have all the fun?"

By that time I had parked the car. We both turned around to look at Andy Richardson in the back seat, his face once again drained of color.

Andy continued his protests all the way up the stairs, propelled by the awesome force of nature that was Karen Thompson in heat. Finally, when she peeled the sweatshirt she was wearing over her head, he finally stopped trying to get out of it.

"I'm not, um, very big," he said as he reluctantly started stripping off his own clothes.

"Perfect," Karen purred.

"For what?" he asked.

"I've been dreaming about getting it up the ass ever since I watched Senator Implants two nights ago." She gave Andy her sexiest smile. "But your little junior detective assistant here is too big for me. I'm hoping that you'll be just right. Now are you going to shut up and let me thank you for helping my best friend, or am I gonna have to hire a private dick?"

Dressed only in black panties now, Karen dropped to her knees and yanked Andy's briefs to the floor.

"Andy," she complained. "I think you've gotten bigger. I don't know if this is going to work now."

"But we're going to try it," I said with a wink at Andy.

"Of course we're going to try it." Karen laughed just before Andy's dick disappeared into her mouth.

I had often enjoyed making love with two women, so I'm not sure why I thought that there would be any less love or affection if one of those women were replaced with a man. There were things that I wasn't going to do, of course, things that Karen, bless her, knew better than to ask me to do. And in truth, we didn't need to do anything but focus on Karen. With one man and two women, times will arise when, to be blunt, things don't arise. With two men and one Karen Thompson, somebody's thing was always rising.