Shameless Ch. 01

Author's Note: This is a story about a woman who is very inhibited, who meets a man, and starts working out some of her issues with him.

One of her issues is that she has incest fantasies, and she opens up and talks about them, though no actual incest or specific incest fantasies are described.

There is a very mild d/s dynamic to this story. The male character has some pretty light domination fantasies. There is a lot of Daddy talk, and they enact a Daddy fantasy but I wouldn't call it role play per se.

But these little fetish-y things are really incidental to the story, which is about two people dealing with their fantasies, in the context of a relationship.

So Fair Warning!! If incest fantasy, Daddy, or d/s does NOT appeal to you, please do not progress!!

The Beginning

Beth Lambert wanted to change her life. She didn't know how, she didn't know when, but something had to give.

She had a great job, friends, a beautiful apartment, she was slim and fit and, so she was often told, very pretty. She should have been happy, but she wasn't, and she knew why. She was 27 years old, and she had yet to have "great sex." She thought about it constantly. What was wrong with her? Why had this eluded her for so long? She had had boyfriends come and go, she had come close, but no mind-blowing, earth-shattering, or even just plain amazing sex had ever happened. It just hadn't, and she knew it. She felt like she was waiting, waiting. She just didn't get it.

Her girlfriends and sisters seemed to have no problem fucking their brains out--with strangers, boyfriends, husbands. She heard stories of their orgasms, their hot sex and random encounters and she felt like a complete dolt. She was a total dud in bars and nightclubs. Men would come up to her all the time and she would be stiff and cold, even if she liked them. She had experiences that would start great, but that always ended early, or trailed off into awkwardness. One time she had been in the middle of having pretty good sex with one guy and she had just stopped it, for no reason. Or, for a reason she didn't understand. She just seemed unable to go all the way mentally.

She thought of it as her "sexual problem," though she certainly had no problems on her own, masturbating. She had a very active fantasy life, and she could make herself cum in a hundred ways. But she could not, or would not, let this sexuality out with a man.

Sometimes she thought she "just hadn't met the right person." But she knew damn well she had had many opportunities with the "right" man and she had still failed. If she was in love, in a committed relationship, it would probably be easier to work it out...but that wasn't happening anytime soon, and what was she supposed to do, live like a nun until it did?

She didn't necessarily think falling in love and getting married was the solution. The only thing she could think was that she needed a lover, the right kind of lover for her. But she also knew if she actually said that she would only attract assholes.

It was spring. It was so beautiful outside. The days were getting warmer. For the past few weeks she had felt pressure inside her, building and building. She was in a mood. At night she would stand at the window or out on the balcony smelling the new scents in the air, her whole being tingling and aching.

She started having a series of very vivid dreams. In one dream, she stood in front of a huge, beautiful turquoise lake. It was so gorgeous, so deep and inviting, but she never went in. She just stood and looked at it. In others, there were storms. Huge storm clouds on the horizon getting closer, then raging torrents that threatened to flood her house and she would wake up in a sweat.

She was someone whose outer and inner selves did not match, not at all. There were reasons for that, but Beth had not really wanted to delve into them.

She was stuck, in life and in love.

***

Across town, in the big city in which she lived, there was a man who also standing on his balcony breathing in the spring air, looking at the glimmering lights. He was 45. He stood in a t-shirt and boxers, thinking.

He was a cop—a detective, had been one for 15 years. He investigated soft crime—theft, fraud, political corruption. He'd never come near a murder. It was a good job, a good, satisfying career, and he had risen about as far as he could go. His work didn't consume him as it used to. There was nothing holding him back, now, from meeting someone. What else was there to do with life? But he had no idea how or where or when or who.

He had been divorced now for two years, and he was ready to move on. He was not neurotic in any way, had no deep-seated issues. He'd enjoyed a wonderful, fulfilling relationship for as long as it had lasted, until it had all turned to shit. But, shit happens. He had dealt with it. Now, he wanted try again.

He wasn't necessarily looking to jump into marriage again, but he wanted more than "casual sex." He, too, wanted a lover. A partner, for a while at least. The right one. A good match. And he knew that a.) that was not easy to find and b.) you couldn't control it. It either happened or it didn't.

So, he was waiting. Looking, longing a little, but still just...waiting. He'd know it when he found it, of that much he was sure.

***

It took an ordinary incident to bring these two together, not when either one was trying or thinking about it, but just going about everyday life.

Beth worked out every day at a gym, and one night her car got stolen.

She came out from her workout tired and sweaty, ready to go immediately crash at home, walked to the garage and just as she was figuring out that her car was somehow NOT where she had parked it, she heard tires squealing and saw her car—her own car!—peeling out of the garage. She got a glimpse of two guys in the front seat, two young assholes, one blonde and one dark-haired. Holy fuck! Do these things really happen? Apparently so! It was a city, after all, but damn was she pissed. That car was only one year old and she needed it for everything! How was she going to get to work?

She immediately called 911. It was late, about 10:00. She yelled at the operator, "My car just got stolen! I SAW the assholes who took it!"

"Ma'am, ok, calm down, where are you?"

She gave them all her info and sat and waited. How would she get home? What the FUCK! She got on the horn and called her friends, her sister, crying. She was still crying when the cop car pulled up and a really fat, tired-looking cop in a uniform got out.

He was so blasé. Like he'd heard it all a million times. He took all her info, but when she told him she had seen who'd driven it away, he got more interested.

"Is that so? Do you think you could remember them if you saw them again?"

"Yes, of course, I got a good look at them."

"Well, we've had a bunch of these robberies lately and it sounds like our guys. Do you think you would mind coming into the station and talking to one of our detectives?"

"What, now?!"

"No, no ma'am. Here, here's my card. It's got the address on it, see? It's right down the street. Look, I've got all your information here, we'll be looking for it all night. But it would be great if you could come down to the station tomorrow, anytime."

"Well, sure, if you think that would help."

"It would. Now, do you need a ride home?"

***

She knew the police station. It was only a few blocks away. She passed it every day. She got dressed in the morning and went over.

It was all completely familiar to her, because her dad had been a cop, in a different part of the same city. She'd spent half her life in police stations. Even now, being 27, she could not drive by one without feeling warm and safe and protected, because she so closely associated them with her father, who she had deeply loved. She grew up and became a lawyer, which she supposed was in the same line of work.

She went in and spoke to the receptionist, who told her to "Wait over there, ma'am." She knew the drill. She knew the wood, she knew the benches, she knew the linoleum floor, the fluorescent lights. How many days after school had she spent waiting on the same benches after her father had said "Now wait here while Daddy finishes up, and don't move!" Everything—the smells, especially—brought it all back. She felt like she was coming back home, even though it was because her damn car had been stolen.

She waited for what seemed like forever. Finally, while she was checking her phone for the umpteenth time, she heard a deep voice say, "Ms. Lambert?"

She looked up, and a weird feeling came over her. She didn't know what it was at first because she had never felt it before. It was pure, unexplainable lust, without rhyme or reason. She saw this man and an image instantly flashed through her mind of him fucking a woman from behind. Bending her over. Not necessarily her. Just a woman. Any woman.

This had never happened to her before. She'd found some men cute, she knew she'd been attracted to some, but nothing like this. She saw him and she knew she wanted to have sex with him. No—to be precise, she knew she wanted him to FUCK her. She never used that word to describe sex, but that's what she thought.

He wasn't "cute." He wasn't gorgeous or hot or ripped or anything. He was older and average looking. Tall, blonde, big hands, freckles, "not her type." That's all she registered. That, and "sex."

She felt herself flush bright red as if he could read her thoughts and she tried to get it together.

"Yes, that's me."

"You're here about the car theft?"

"Yes."

"Very sorry to keep you waiting. Would you follow me?"

She got up and walked after him like a robot. WHAT THE FUCK?

Ahead of her, Det. Jake McAllister had the look of someone who had run smack into a doorframe.

When he had seen HER for the first time, when she looked up from her phone, he had thought "This is the one." He'd been waiting for this, and here she was, sitting in front of him. He didn't know how he knew, but he did.

She was so beautiful. Big soft brown eyes, thick soft brown hair, full sensuous lips. She was absolutely adorable—"sweet" was the word he thought of. Just what he wanted. Just what he was looking for.

Images were flashing through his mind of what he would like to do to her, but he forced himself to get to the matter at hand.

He got behind his desk and told her to "Have a seat."

"So, I've been assigned your case, because I'm told you got a look at two guys the other night."

"Yes, I saw them."

"Well this is more than a usual car theft, as I'm sure you've guessed, because we've been trying to crack this ring for a while now. You could really help me out."

"Of course. What do you need me to do?"

"Would you mind looking at some pictures? I have the description you gave us last night, but I'd like to see if you could identify the people I think it might be."

"Sure."

"Wonderful."

He got up and walked over to her, pulled his chair and sat right next to her. She was so excited she could barely breathe. He was sitting so close his knee was touching hers. He put some pictures on the table and as she looked them over he put an arm around the back of her chair, just waiting and giving her time to look.

She took her time, acutely aware of his body so close to hers. She noticed the reddish hair on his arms, the way he rolled his cuffs up, the faint smell of aftershave. She could hear him breathing next to her. Every second seemed explosive. Her movements were like slow motion, in liquid or under water because she knew he was watching her.

Finally she turned to look at him and say something, but she stopped when she saw him. He was staring at her. He had been leaning forward gazing at her openly, intently and she looked into his light grey eyes.

She managed to say "I think I recognize them".

He didn't even look at the pictures, just at her. "Oh yeah? Can you show me?"

"Yes," she said, but didn't look away. Saying yes seemed to have much more than the intended meaning.

Finally she broke away from his stare. "It's these two guys, right here."

"Ah! I thought so. Well, that is fantastic. That is so helpful. Just hang on a second." He took out some forms and filled them out. She watched him as he wrote. He had her sign something, then stood up.

As they wrapped up their meeting and he walked her to the door, he had his hand on her elbow, and his fingers brushed her hip. Was he doing that on purpose?

He thanked her for her help, and then said, "I see you live around here."

"Yes! Right down the street."

"Oh, in an apartment?"

"Yes, I have a bedroom—I mean, a one bedroom."

She turned beet red when she said it.

"Uh huh...and you live alone?" He could not stop himself from saying it. He had to know.

"Yes, I live alone."

"Oh! Well that's great. Ok, well... thank you so much for coming in, and I'll let you know about your car the minute I find anything."

He handed her his card, which was not really necessary. "If you need to talk to me, you can always reach me here."

Beth was so flustered she was dying to get away. Had she imagined it, or was he hitting on her? It was so brief, she couldn't be sure. But he'd walked her out. Touched her. Given her his card. Was that all normal?

When she got home, she immediately stripped off all her clothes and got in the shower. Standing under the hot, steaming water she thought about him. She looked down. Her full, large breasts looked beautiful under the running rivulets. Her nipples were hard. She soaped herself up and ran her hands everywhere over her firm, toned body and imagined he was the one touching her. She pictured his large, veined hands holding her breasts, running his thumbs over the nipples, traveling down to her stomach, just touching and feeling her.

When she tried to masturbate that night, as she always did before sleep, she couldn't. She had no desire to. She could only think about the actual man she had met today and had no interest in her usual fantasies.

***

Across town, the same thing was happening.

Jake lay on his bed thinking about her, unable to sleep. He was not surprised that he was hard, and that he was throbbing with desire for the first time in two years. He didn't want to jerk off, but he could not stop lightly touching his cock as he thought of Beth, the girl he had met today. He HAD been staring at her as she looked at the mug books. Staring and inhaling everything he could about her. Her soft, soft skin. Her thick dark hair. Her breasts and hips. Her gorgeous kissable lips. He thought of sinking his hands in that hair and pulling her head down to his cock. He thought of those beautiful lips around his cock and could not help groaning.

Would she be open to what he wanted? He thought so. More than her beauty, he could sense a quality, one she was probably not even aware of. A quality he wanted and needed in any woman. He sensed it in the way she reacted to him. He knew from the first second that she was attracted to him, but she immediately tried to hide it. She didn't flirt, didn't come on to him. She was not sexually aggressive in the least. That was a very good sign.

She said she lived alone. She was not married, he knew that from her files. Would she be

interested...?

***

For three days he debated in his mind what to do. He wanted to call this girl.

And so at the end of a long day, he took out her file, found her cell phone number, and dialed. She picked up at the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Uh, yes, is this Beth?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Oh hello, this is Detective McAllister. I spoke with you the other day?"

"Oh, yes! Have you found my car?"

"No, no, I'm sorry. Not yet. That's not what I'm calling about."

"Oh..." Disappointment in her voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. But I'm sure it will turn up sooner or later."

"Oh then what are you calling about?"

Jesus she did not sound encouraging.

"Uh, well, I enjoyed meeting you the other day, and I was wondering if you'd uh...like to meet sometime? Maybe for dinner? Or a drink?" What a cliché, he thought.

"Oh, you mean a date?"

"Yes. Uh, would you be interested, uh, would that be something you'd be interested in?"

She said "Yes. Yes I would. I would love that."

On her end her legs had turned to jelly and she was smiling so hard she was extremely grateful no one could see her.

He said "Oh well...that's great. Great. Ok, so well, uh, what would be good for you? Some time after work this week?"

"Yes! Sure. I'm free most nights."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's fine."

"Ok well why don't I just walk down to your place? You're right down the street."

"That would be great. Say around 6:00?"

"That sounds perfect. If it's ok with you, maybe we can decide what to do from there. There's lots of places around. We'll talk it over."

"That sounds great. Ill uh...see you then. Um, look for you I mean. Just buzz my number."

"Ok then...see you tomorrow."

Beth hung up the phone both elated and terrified, for the same reason. Elated that she had not imagined the "something" that had flashed between them, and terrified that that "something" was actually real. Whatever it was, she was going to find out!

***

He buzzed the door at 6:00 precisely and she said Oh fuck to herself. She almost wanted to run away. But she fluffed her hair, put on some lipstick and went down to meet him.

As she walked towards him, she got a chance to see him better, more fully. She was surprised to see she had been wrong. He WAS built. Tall, very big thighs, a big flat stomach, massive arms. He was wearing jeans with a leather belt, a big silver watch, a light blue shirt and suit jacket and boots. He looked fantastic, and whatever it was that had excited her about him was still there, more than before. She was trembling with excitement and nerves.

He looked up and watched her come towards him, thinking to himself "I'm so glad I'm doing this." She was dressed in black jeans and black heels, a low cut white peasant type of blouse. Her gorgeous hair was down and flowing over her shoulders. She had put on makeup this time, and looked just phenomenal to him. He smiled.

She said shyly, "I'm glad you called."

"Oh yeah?" His pale-lashed eyes were looking into hers.

"Yes. I was hoping you would."

"Is that so? Well I guess it's lucky that your car got stolen" and they both laughed.

"Allow me." He was kind of formal as he opened his car door for her, touching her arm as he did so and making her even more nervous. Maybe she was only projecting, but everything he did seemed to suggest sex.

He got in, turned to her and said "You look gorgeous."

She blushed and smiled, said "Thanks." He smiled back and said softly, "Relax, hon" and put his hand on her knee. Her nerves were so obvious. Actually, he liked that, but he also wanted her to feel at ease. "We're gonna have fun."

He got her chatting lightly as he drove to the restaurant, asking her about her day.

She said, "So—McAllister, is that...Irish?"

He laughed. "Yes. Irish cop, New York City. How's that for original?"

Then he said, "You know, I could swear there is something familiar about you—about your name. Beth Lambert. I feel like I've heard it before. I thought that when you came in the other day."

She laughed. "Oh, well, I guess you may have heard of my father."

He thought about it. "Oh. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Lambert. You're not telling me. . . "

Again she laughed. "Yes. Phil Lambert. That's my dad."

"No shit!" Phil Lambert—CAPTAIN Phil Lambert—was way up in the police department infrastructure. Everyone knew him. Very powerful guy. Very charismatic. Forceful type of personality, and kind of an asshole. Arrogant as hell. That was her FATHER?? Well that might explain some things. . .