Maelstrom

"Lick my pussy Courtney."

She bit my nipple again. "Not yet."

She pulled my breast upward and starting licking the underside, clammier, but also more sensitive. I resisted the temptation to finger myself, but I knew I was soaking wet. This woman knew a thing or two about sex, and she was in control.

She started kissing down my belly. She gave a gentle push to my chest, telling me to lay backwards on the bed. She knelt next to the bed and hoisted my legs over her shoulders. The alcohol and the marijuana was kicking in. Instead of licking my pussy I felt her tongue on my asshole. She rimmed it and sent sparks through me.

"Aw fuck Courtney..." It was not fair how good this was feeling.

"I'll stop if you want me to Max."

"You stop and I'll fucking kill you."

I reached down with both hands and pulled the cheeks of my big booty further apart, exposing all of me. Her tongue pushed inside me. I took in a deep breath. She started tongue fucking my ass. The feeling was exquisite.

"You nasty bitch..." I muttered under my breath.

"Say something Max?" she asked, interrupting her rim job.

"Yeah, I said it felt good."

She nipped my ass.

"Hey," I said, surprised.

"My lie detector went off."

"Busted, and I'm the cop."

"You called me a nasty bitch. Do you want to see how nasty?"

"Yes I do."

I really did.

She pulled apart the cheeks of my ass and shoved her tongue inside me as far as it would go and started tongue fucking me again.

"Fuck yes," I told her.

She was a nasty bitch.

Her fingers found my clit. They squeezed the sensitive nub between them. She got the expected reaction. My hips rose and then fell.

I started to feel very warm.

"Courtney... ahhhh... don't... yes," I babbled. I'm a talker when I cum. I was talking a lot.

I grabbed her hair. It was stiff, with hairspray or gel. I pressed her head harder against my ass so it was her tongue and her hot breath against my asshole. This wasn't sport fucking, it was gutter fucking. I didn't know it at the time I went into Bailey's, but this was exactly what I needed.

"Don't stop Courtney."

I don't think she wanted to. I started going up again. My temples were pounding.

"Fuck yes..."

Up, up, and then a gentle descent downward. Being drunk and high and having your ass eaten was a trifecta. I took my time in that other, nicer world, before coming back to recognize my all too familiar surroundings. The euphoria lingered, and I wanted to milk every moment of this pleasurable feeling. Then I realized the bed was empty next to me.

Courtney was already out on the walkway, smoking a cigarette. She was dressed again. I dragged myself out of bed and put my clothes back on, taking a new bottle with me. I staggered at first, and then got my legs about me and went outside on the frigid walkway in a tee shirt, panties, and bare feet on the cold concrete. Somehow I didn't feel the cold.

She held her lit cigarette in front of me. "Bummed it from you. Hope you don't mind."

"Fine," I told her. I took it from her, sucked in a long drag, and then gave it back.

She had another Jack Daniels in a fresh cup sitting on the walkway. I unscrewed the cap and took a healthy draw off my fresh bottle of vodka.

"We going back in?" I asked her. That was some good sex. I was hoping it wasn't over.

"Yeah... just felt like having a smoke."

"It's your turn," I said.

She retrieved her drink and downed it, then stubbed out her cigarette on the railing and dropped it into the cup.

"Let's go in," she said.

This time I was the nasty bitch.

* * *

"Got any more cigarettes Max?"

We were lounging in bed. It was morning judging by the sunlight filtering in between the crack where the two window curtains joined together.

I rolled over to check the pack laying on my nightstand. I moved aside an empty vodka bottle.

"Still got a couple."

"You going out now?" I asked her.

Courtney was laying on her side facing me. The sheet only covered her up to her waist. I was remembering what I looked like in my early 20's. My breasts were now fuller and my figure a bit curvier. She was much leaner, and I found playing with her smallish, and more sensitive breasts, was a turn on for me.

"What's that?" I asked her, pointing to the tattoo on her right forearm, near her elbow. It has squiggly lines and dots and looked like a word written in Arabic.

She extended her arm so I could see it better.

"It means something like 'slut' in Farsi."

I liked that.

"You or the person you were fucking?"

"Me."

I liked that too.

"Care to share the story?"

"You already know it."

"I do?" I asked, puzzled by her remark.

"Uh huh. I did it to you last night."

"When you..."

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Being the budding detective, I decided to try my luck at another line of questioning.

"Do you go to Bailey's often? I haven't seen you there before."

"Often enough."

"Ever see me there before?"

"Yeah, a couple of times."

"Why did you decide to pick me up?"

"You really want to know?"

"I do."

She reached over and started fondling my tits.

"I like these," she said, pinching my nipple. I think I sighed.

"Many do."

"So I asked Maddy about you, you know, the bartender."

"She owns the place," I informed her.

"I know that."

"I went to high school with her. We used to hang out together."

"Oh."

"So what'd she say?"

Courtney cupped my breast and then leaned over and gave my nipple a quick suck.

"She said you were a cop."

"So?"

"My habits are not quite aligned with law enforcement."

She pointed to the freshly rolled joint on the nightstand on her side.

"So then why did you pick me up last night?"

"I always wondered what'd it be like to fuck a cop."

"Meet your expectations?"

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear the answer but I couldn't resist asking.

"Better."

I liked her answer.

"Why?"

"Because Max, even though you're a cop, you party and fuck like a whore."

Maybe that was too much information.

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

"Take it any way you want."

"You've had sex with prostitutes?"

"A few."

"So how was it?"

"Fantastic."

I guess it was a compliment.

"How so?"

"They're professionals Max. I learned a thing or two about making love to a woman from them."

That was true. For such a young woman, she sure knew how to fuck.

"Ready for that cigarette?" I asked her. I was ready with that hot talk.

"Not yet."

"Got something else on your mind?"

"You know that thing you mentioned last night? Right before you passed out?"

"Uh huh."

"I was hoping you could do it now."

She was a horny little bitch.

"OK."

I got on my knees and knelt next to her. I extended her arms over her head so she was touching the headboard. I kissed the chain links tattooed around her wrist, and then down the colorful snake skillfully tattooed around her forearm. I stopped at the "slut" tattoo and licked it. My hand teased her belly. Then I ran my fingers close to her shaved pussy. She lifted her hips off the bed.

"Ummm. That feels nice Max."

Her arms were long, lean and muscular. I kissed down to her shaved armpit and then gave it a tentative lick. She flinched.

"That tickles."

I gave her a firmer lick across her armpit. It was smooth and freshly shaved. My fingers found her sex, still swollen from last night's fuck-a-thon. Two fingers slid inside her easily. I started licking her armpit as if it were her pussy. She squirmed. I ignored it.

"That's intense."

It was supposed to be.

I fucked her harder.

"Max... Max... that tickles!" she yelled at me. I ignored it.

"God... no... please...oh God..."

She arched her back so her ass was completely off the bed. Her hips were shaking.

"Ohh," she uttered between short breaths.

"Ummmm," I purred. She was cumming hard.

She jerked her hips away from me and wiggled on the bed until the aftershocks were over.

"Too much..."

Yeah it was.

I stopped and listened to her labored breathing. It took a minute or two for her to catch her breath.

"I liked that," she told me.

"I could tell."

"Let's do that again later, on the other arm."

"OK. Ready for that smoke now?"

"Yeah."

* * *

It was mid-morning. Checkout was at noon. I pulled open the drapes. The bright sunlight made me squint. I felt hung over and fucked out. Though the slits of my eyes I could see Courtney in a short black leather skirt with one foot on the bed to lace up her boots. God, she had sexy legs

"Gotta go. I've got some friends I'm meeting for lunch," she said smartly. She was wide awake and I wasn't.

"What time is it?" I asked, still in a daze.

"Almost ten. Shit Max, after you finished the second bottle of vodka you passed out."

"So you're on your way?" I said sleepily, hoping she wasn't leaving.

"'Fraid so. I have to run."

She was going through the doorway when I said, "You were right about the fucking."

She stopped and put her hand on the door jamb.

"Excuse me?" she asked, more as an exclamation point since she clearly heard me.

"I said you were right about the fucking."

Her posture relaxed.

"In what way?"

"That you're good at it."

"Practice."

"Maybe I'll see you around?" I asked, not trying to sound desperate but probably sounding desperate.

"Max. You crack me up. You're this hard ass cop but to me you're a pussycat. Of course I'll see you around. You're the most fun I've had in a long time."

My heart and my mood lightened. I didn't want to get emotional. We weren't supposed to be romantically involved. But yet.

She shut the door behind her.

You never know what hand life is going to deal you. I think I came up with four aces, and a splitting headache.

Chapter Three

DaVanna

I went to Nicky's with a good appetite and a mild hangover. I met her at the door. She looked like she'd been through the wringer. We trudged through the half-empty restaurant. It was 11 a.m., that gap time between breakfast and lunch. She seated me but held onto the menu.

"Usual?" she asked.

"Uh huh." The usual at that time of day and in my condition, which she no doubt assessed instantaneously, was two eggs over easy, toast and three strips of bacon. And lots of coffee. I needed enough juice to do the 4 p.m. to midnight shift.

Nicky came back with a pot of coffee, a mug and a smile. Even though she was tired she was still glad to see me. She poured me a cup and hung over me to talk.

"I've got to talk to you after you're done with breakfast," she said with a hint of mystery in her voice.

"Sure," I said looking up at her. The coffee smelled great. Nicky wandered away as I took my first sip.

* * *

Breakfast took the edge off my hangover. I had another cup of coffee and waited for Nicky to come back. I was about done with my second cup when she came from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. She sat in the booth across from me. Her face was serious. It wasn't a look I'd seen before.

"I've got a couple problems Max."

"I figured."

"Yeah, but mine are money related."

That meant it was going to be a lot.

"How much?" I asked, wanting to be relieved of the suspense.

"$35,000."

"Ummm," I said. The chances of me laying my hands on $35,000 was zero.

I opened my wallet and looked inside. "I don't have that on me."

"Thanks Max." She gave me a cross look. "Seriously, I'm in trouble."

"How so?"

Nicky leaned forward so we were close. She spoke softly so I had to strain to hear her.

"Uhhh.... Dad was paying protection money... since he got sick he's gotten behind. Max, I'm scared. They threatened me and my mother."

I clearly heard the word "threatened." That meant she got a death threat from someone who was capable of carrying it out. I needed to know more, and I knew at that moment I was ensnared. Nicky's problem was about to become mine.

"Who is 'they' Nicky?"

"A Vietnamese gang."

Shit.

"Trong Lai?" I asked, just to hear her confirm my suspicion. Trong controlled the area where Nicky's restaurant was located.

"How'd you know?" she asked.

"I'm in Vice Nicky. His gang is based in the West End. This is their turf."

"Right, right," she said back nervously. "So how much trouble am I in?"

That was an easy one.

"A lot," I answered, confirming her worst fears. I had to be truthful. She needed to know what she/we were facing.

She sighed. "I kind of figured that. So what should I do?"

Trong had a lot of muscle on his side. And guns. It was going to take some thinking to come up with the solution. And probably a lot of luck.

"Sit tight. Let me ask around," I told her. She gave me a nervous smile. I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'll figure it out," I said to reassure her. Somehow I would figure it out.

* * *

Neufeld was an asshole, but he'd done a three year stint in Homicide, and I knew that the Vietnamese gang was involved in some very unsavory activities that probably included contract killing. I decided to find out what he knew. Maybe it would jar a couple of ideas.

I was on my way to his office carrying two cups of freshly brewed coffee from the special roast I kept in my locker. I made it and didn't even bother to ask Lesley to do it. I was supposed to be training her but I think she was training me.

"What's you got there Pemberton?" Neufeld asked when I came into his office with my present in hand. The aroma of the coffee had undoubtedly hit his nose.

"Coffee. From my special blend."

He smiled and reached for the cup I was handing him.

"Trying to butter me up?"

"I hope so," I said honestly. I sat in his guest chair. He still hadn't unpacked his boxes. The plants he was given as welcome gifts looked like they were dying.

He took his first sip.

"You've won me over Max." There was a satisfied smile on his face. Coffee prevailed again.

He took another sip and then put the cup down. "The coffee they have here isn't fit for a dog."

"I like dogs, and I would agree with that." He didn't say that the coffee was shit because he cut the budget for it.

He folded his hands on the desk and gave me a fake smile. "So what can I do for you?"

"Trong Lai," I answered, cutting through all the bullshit.

He chuckled. "Mean motherfucker."

"Yeah," I said, agreeing with him. There was a consensus that he was particularly cruel in the way he ruled his fiefdom.

"You got anything on him?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact I do." He leaned back in this chair and almost lost his balance. He sat up straight, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"It's going to cost you."

"What do you want?" Of course the weasel wanted something.

"I want you to put in your transfer papers. Go back on the beat."

I guess the fucker did hate me. "That's fine Neufeld," I answered. If he didn't want me, I didn't want to be there.

"Only if it's good," I cautioned him. I wasn't going to transfer out for some bullshit lead.

"It's good."

"You've got a deal. Now tell me."

"We tried to pin a murder rap on him. We think he killed someone he was smuggling in who had run away, I think as an example to others who were thinking of escaping. We arrested him but the Assistant D.A. dismissed the case. She said insufficient evidence. I said bullshit. Trong had something going with her or with someone else who was way above my pay grade."

That was a good story. I wondered if he could prove it.

"Who's the Assistant D.A.?" I asked.

"DaVanna Caruso."

I knew her. I remembered seeing her at Bailey's before. A looker. Ambitious. Bigger political aspirations. Mid-30's. Came from a well-connected Italian family that had been in Cincinnati for over a hundred years. I wondered what Trong had over her.

"Yeah, I know of her. Haven't met her."

"Watch out for her," he said quickly.

"I watch out for everyone," I said smugly.

"She has big teeth."

To bury something like that, you'd have to.

* * *

Yes, I remembered DaVanna as soon as I saw her again. Definitely at Bailey's. And definitely not dressing in muted blues and greys like she does in her job as Assistant District Attorney. She'd typically wear a colorful body hugging low cut dress and ultra-high pumps. I often saw her at Bailey's Wednesday "Girl's Night," and she didn't care people knew she was gay. There was always a crowd of women around her. I didn't like that kind of flashy woman so I stayed away. Not to say she wasn't attractive. She was insanely attractive. Hence her entourage and hence her political future with an upward bullet on it. The fact she was a lesbian was the worst kept secret in Cincinnati. I don't think she saw it as a political liability.

I wanted to see her because I might get a clue on why she quashed Trong's prosecution. DaVanna's office was on the seventh floor of City Hall, in the executive suite. The Mayor's office was also in that exclusive enclave. DaVanna's office occupied the space next to the District Attorney, Maureen McDowell. Word on the street was that McDowell was going to retire in the next year and that DaVanna was the odds on favorite to win her office.

I had an appointment at 3:15 and arrived fifteen minutes early. I didn't want to miss my slot with her, as I had to grant a favor to DaVanna's executive assistant to get the appointment. She was right on time. She came into the reception area dressed with her usual Italian flair in a tailored short light grey wool skirt and matching jacket. She was tall, with jet black hair, wavy and down past her shoulders, slender, yet curvy where it counted. Her mother was African-American and her father was Italian. Her iridescent light brown complexion was mesmerizing.

She stopped on a dime in her Jimmy Choos and held her hand out.

"DaVanna Caruso. And you're Officer Pemberton. Max as I recall."

I felt like I was in an election rally. She gave me a firm handshake and displayed her gift for remembering names. I was already impressed.

"That's right. We met at a civil rights banquet that was honoring you."

"I do remember Max. You mentioned you were transferring to Vice. I think from the West End?"

I was officially creeped out. She remembered the details of our conversation four months ago.

"Right again. I have to tell you that you have an amazing memory."

She gave me a dazzling smile. It was electric. She laughed.

"I've heard that before." She started back to her office and I followed. I went into her office and waited for a cue from her on where to sit down. She followed me in and leaned back against the door until it clicked shut. Her office was about half the size of her boss's, large enough to fit an executive size desk, credenza, two guest chairs, a sofa and coffee table. She motioned for me to take a seat on the sofa. She poured two cups of coffee from the sterling silver service sitting on her credenza. She handed me one and sat next to me on the sofa.

I took a sip of the coffee. It was piping hot and delicious. I tipped the coffee cup towards her to salute her coffee choice. I got another radiant smile.

"I'm glad you like it Officer Pemberton."

"Please call me Max."

"So Max, what can I do for you today?"

As she asked the question she leaned against the back cushion of the sofa and crossed her legs. Her already indecently short skirt rode up higher. I thought I could see the lace trim of her panties.

I almost spit in my coffee.

"Oh Max, is the coffee too hot?"

I wanted to say, "No, but you are," but resisted the temptation. Instead I said, "The coffee's great."

"So what is it?

I gave her a blank stare. I had no idea what to say.

"Max, why did you want to see me?"

I had to blink to get my wits about me. "Trong Lai," I blurted out. I don't know what overcame me.

Her face suddenly got serious. It was if a dark cloud descended on our conversation.