The Flaming Girls Ch. 02

Charlie pretended to compose herself, all the while almost feeling sorry for the pitiful little man who man who compensated for his lack of penile dimensions by being an officious, overbearing and a self-centred prick. She looked up him, behaving like a frightened puppy, pretending that he had dominion over her.

"Thank you Miss Ringwald, I'll see you here the same time tomorrow," the doctor said as he adjusted his clothing.

"It's a shame you have that stomach wound otherwise I would have loved to have fucked you up the arse," he quipped as he unlocked the door.

He looked surprised to see WPC Glenda Savage standing outside the door.

"Afternoon doctor," Glenda smiled at him but the smile never reached her eyes.

"Afternoon Constable," the doctor sniffed and moved aside to allow Glenda to enter.

The doctor closed the door and Glenda entered carrying a shopping bag.

"I don't like him, I think he's officious and egotistical," Glenda said looking back at the door.

"He's ok. He's a bit rapey but he's putty in my hands," Charlie got off the bed and went to the bathroom to rinse with mouthwash.

"He's a bit what?" Glenda wasn't sure if she'd heard Charlie correctly.

"Never mind; what did you bring me?" Charlie came out of the bathroom smiling.

"Christ I wish I had your figure. I gotta give up eating faggots, peas and chips and drinking Tizer," she patted her ample belly.

"Bollocks you're lovely," Charlie replied, patting Glenda on the bottom.

"So what's in the bag?" Charlie asked.

Glenda put the paper bag on the table and produced two bottles of beer, two packets of crisps and a packet of Consulate cigarettes.

"All the nutrition that two good girls need," Glenda sniggered.

"And heaps better than the bollocks they serve from the hospital kitchen," Charlie added.

Glenda popped the tops off the beer bottles using the aluminium strip on the edge of the table and handed Charlie one.

"Can I ask you another question? Why do you talk like that?" Glenda took a slug of ale from the bottle.

"Like what?" Charlie sipped her beer.

"You talk like a working class cockney but you come from a posh home and you are well educated," Glenda commented.

"It disguises my upbringing and keeps me safe on the streets. Can you imagine me speaking The Queen's English to the other brasses; they'd kick my arse in," Charlie replied.

"Or talking to the punters with a posh accent: 'sir, may I interest you in a spot of fellatio or perhaps a little buggery up against the wall'," Charlie pulled off a perfect British upper-class accent.

"Let's face it; there's not many Sloane Rangers working the Chelmsford railway underpass is there," she giggled.

"There you are; putting yourself down again," Glenda admonished her.

"Changing the subject... what news of my case?" Charlie asked.

"Well funny you should ask. I've asked Ruffe Ingersoll to join us if you don't mind," Glenda ripped open the crisps and put a handful in her mouth.

"Here's today's Sun by the way," Glenda said around a mouthful of Smith's cheese and onion.

Charlie's story had moved to the inside pages but Ruffe had written a great follow-up, describing life on the streets for London streetwalkers and the perils they faced daily trying to earn enough money to survive. He had included a picture of Charlie posing in the hospital room dressed in her pink rayon baby-doll nightdress. She looked pretty and seductive and next to it was the picture of her lying asleep in the hospital bed, wan and wounded.

He had used the caption: From This to This to make his point.

"I don't look half bad in those baby-dolls but I look shit in the other picture. I didn't know that prick Ruffe had taken it," Charlie studied the newspaper.

The Daily Sun had gone to the expense to use coloured ink on the better of the two photographs, the one of her lying in bed asleep they had left black and white to emphasise how peaked she looked.

Ruffe bustled through the door and closed it.

"Good evening ladies; you both look beautiful by the way," Ruffe gave them his best smile.

Charlie accepted the compliment but Glenda gave him a sceptical look and took another beer out of the shopping bag and handed it to him.

"If I'd known it was going to be a cocktail party I would have bought you both a Babycham," Ruffe deftly sprang the cap off his beer using the table's sharp edge.

Ruffe was in fine form. Today he was carrying a small briefcase which he'd dumped on Charlie's hospital cot. He took a long pull on his beer and popped the locks on his briefcase and took out a sheet of paper.

"Did you tell her?" Charlie looked meaningfully at Glenda.

"Nope; thought the pleasure would be all yours," Glenda replied.

"Did she tell me what?" Charlie looked at Ruffe and then at the paper he was holding.

Ruffe simply offered Charlie the piece of A4 paper and sat on the edge of the bed and sipped his Whitbread Pale Ale.

The document was a Photostat copy of a handwritten letter. The cursive script was flowing and elegant.

I didn't know the tranny whore lived until I read your article in the Sun. I thought for sure I'd done for her even though I was disturbed; she looked empty with her pale skin and her guts in her lap, nothing like the Flaming Girl who had burned so brightly when I slit her throat.

Her red hair and green eyes were ablaze when I first laid eyes on her. Never mind, alive or dead she will always be one of my Flaming Girls, perhaps I'll finish the job, perhaps not. If you see her again tell her to fret not, her knickers are being put to good use by me.

There will be more, there will always be more. So long as there are Flaming Girls out there it is my duty to ensure they burn brightly before I snuff out their fire.

VULCAN

"It's him," Charlie said in a shocked whisper and the letter fluttered to the floor.

Ruffe bent down and picked it up while Glenda came to Charlie's side and led her to a chair.

"It was addressed personally to me at The Daily Sun. The coppers have the original, I made that copy before I gave it to them," Ruffe dusted off the letter and put it back in the briefcase.

"Scene of Crime Officers have made a preliminary inspection and the Criminal Investigation Division has a copy. They believe there are no fingerprints on the letter or the envelope. The cheeky bastard posted it in the pillar box on the corner of the Chelmsford railway underpass," Glenda added.

"He went back to the scene of the crime," Charlie murmured.

"We know it's him from the details that no one else would know," Glenda continued.

"Inculpatory evidence," Charlie summarised.

"Exactly. This is the first time the Essex Slasher has made contact with the news services and you can be sure he'd know that it would wind up in police hands," Glenda said.

"It's not unusual for murders to leave notes at the scene or to send messages after the fact; it goes all the way back to Jack the Ripper. We believe it's likely because you survived and he's making excuses whilst bragging at the same time. He's also taunting us; we can't catch him and he's going to kill more women."

"He mentioned my knickers. What do you think he means by putting them to good use?" Charlie asked.

Neither Glenda nor Ruffe answered, the answer was obvious and distasteful.

"He writes well and uses good grammar and prose. CID thinks he's well educated so that gives them a little more to go on," Glenda said.

"What about his threat to finish the job? Do you think he'll come after me?" Charlie shivered.

"Another reason I invited Ruffe to join us. I have a little proposition for you both," Glenda said and pulled hard on her beer.

*****

The first Woman Detective Constable was appointed in 1973 which was also the year that the separate Women's Department was fully integrated into the Metropolitan Police. Female police officers did not get equal pay with male police officers until 1974 which was when the first Woman Chief Superintendent was appointed to take charge of a subdivision.

Glenda Savage joined the police during this exciting period and excelled during her basic training. She wanted a career in the police; and whilst she was still only a Woman Police Constable, she had set her sights high. She had sat and passed the Sargent's exam and was just waiting for a position to become vacant so she could be promoted and she had also applied to become a Detective.

Her career had stalled and to make matters worse she was taken off patrolling duties and assigned to the Chief Constable's Office.

Essex Police is a territorial police force responsible for policing the county of Essex, in the east of England, consisting of over 1.7 million people and around 1,400 square miles and Edward Bard, the current Chief Constable, was responsible for it. He was in his early fifties, handsome, intelligent, articulate, and freethinking and often used progressive, alternative and sometimes radical means to fight crime. He was also the highest ranking black man outside of the Met.

Edward surrounded himself with smart people and at first WPC Glenda Savage was unaware that Edward Brad himself hand selected her for the position, working directly for him as a liaison officer during high profile crimes.

"You're very intelligent and you have street smarts, you're going to go a long way Glenda but first just do this one job for me. You will report directly to me and you will be working the most important and high profile cases so you will get valuable exposure to all aspects of policing. When you finish up here I promise you a promotion and an appointment as a detective," Edward had said to her during the interview.

Edward had sad brown eyes, full sensuous lips and coiffed black hair. He had a way of taking you into his confidence and making you feel almost sorry for him, devoted to him almost.

Glenda took the job and had worked closely with Edward for nearly two years. She was hoping to have been promoted and moved after a year but Edward held onto her. Glenda wasn't stupid; she knew that he held onto her to keep her close, because he was dependent on her.

Their affair had started late one evening when they were both working late in his office. Glenda had taken off her jacket and was sitting on a hard backed chair with her legs crossed concentrating on a case file in her lap. Edward Bard sat behind his desk also in his shirtsleeves and was contemplating her.

"Is that regulation uniform WPC Savage?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Sorry, what's that sir?" she asked.

"Your skirt seems rather short and those stocking surely are not regulation?" he nodded at her legs.

Glenda blushed.

"They are my variation on the uniform regulations which demand WPCs wear black or navy-blue hosiery and skirts may be worn above the knee but are not to be too short," Glenda quoted the manual.

"My stockings are black and fully-fashioned, my seams are straight so they are regulation," Glenda had stood and she extended a leg and ran her fingers along the backseam of her stocking.

"And who determines when a skirt is too short?"

"Is this too short?" she pointed to the hemline of her skirt that rested six inches above her knee.

"Or this?" she raised her skirt a couple of inches which showed the dark shadow-welt on her stockings.

"Or this?" Glenda hitched her skirt above the tops of her stockings, nearly but not quite showing her panties.

The Chief Constable swallowed.

"You're the Chief Constable, you decide," Glenda sidled up to Edward, getting uncomfortably close.

He breathed the exotic perfume which she always wore and he had to admit drove him a little crazy, his eyes should have been on her blue eyes or her lipsticked cupid-bow lips or the halo of black curls surrounding her pretty face, but they were locked on her thighs.

Glenda took his hand and put it on the hem of her skirt.

"So show me sir, which length is acceptable?" Glenda leaned in, her lips nearly touching his.

Glenda took his hand again and this time she put it under her skirt.

"May be you should check my knickers while you're at it," she whispered and placed her lips on his.

Edward pulled her against him with his free arm whilst his other hand pressed against Glenda's black, rayon panties. He could feel the warmth of her sex through the slinky material. He put his tongue in her mouth and kissed her passionately and she responded, opening her mouth for him and pressing her breasts against his chest.

Glenda squeezed him though his trousers and Edward moaned and shivered.

Edward was not a womaniser and he had not selected Glenda Savage to work for him because he'd fancied her or even because of her looks, she was the right woman for the job. But he was in sexless marriage. Not a loveless marriage, he and his wife Alicia loved each other very much but his wife was raised in a strict religious household and believed that now she had given her husband two children there was no need for sex.

On the rare occasion that she had consented Alicia would raise the hem of her nightgown, pull down her plain saggy cotton knickers and lie still while he rutted on top of her. Her single act of participation would be to rub his back and say 'wonderful Edward' as she pulled up her knickers and pulled down her sexless linen nightgown when they finished.

She had kept her virginity until their wedding night so Edward had no idea that he was going to be in for a marriage without sex when he married his wife.

Edward's passion rose at Glenda's display of wantonness. Edward had become attracted to Glenda not long after she had started working with him. They spent a lot of time working together and because of the confidentiality required of a liaison officer, they were often alone. When she'd lean over him to show him something on a document he would breathe in her exotic perfume, her breasts would accidently graze his shoulder, she would sometimes absentmindedly open her legs while she was concentrating on reading or writing something, she exuded a subtle sexuality that he found alluring.

And now he had her in his arms and he was kissing her. They both knew it was wrong but they both couldn't stop. They craved each other.

Glenda led Edward over to the couch, stopping to lock the door, and pulled him down on top of her. They struggled with their clothing, she unbuttoned her blouse and freed her large pillowy breasts and Edward unbuckled his trousers and awkwardly hitched them down to his knees. He lifted Glenda's skirt and put a hand inside her panties, he wanted to touch her there, to feel the moistness and heat of her sex.

Glenda moaned when Edward opened her labia, he was obviously inexperienced as he struggled to find the right place or to do the right thing but Glenda guided his fingertip to her clitoris and he soon figured out how to please her as she gyrated beneath him, moaning and sighing.

He wanted to play with her breasts but he was close to coming and Glenda was grinding her pubis against his hand so he thought it would be rude to move it. Glenda took his dark throbbing penis in her hand and guessed rightly by the string of glistening pre-ejaculate drooling from the eye of his cock that he was close to extremis.

She removed Edward's hand from her labia and guided his cock inside the gusset of her panties and placed it at the entrance to her vagina.

They kissed deeply as Edward slipped his long thick cock inside her. Glenda had never been filled by such a large organ before and it felt wonderful. Edward's wife was perennially dry when they fucked and to him it felt wonderful to be inside Glenda's tight, warm, wet, spongy quim.

"I'm sorry," Edward moaned as he ejaculated.

"Oh god!" Glenda shrieked as she orgasmed, holding Edward's body against her by locking her legs around him and pulling him close as she kissed him intensely.

Edward kissed her and mauled her breasts as he continued to climax inside this beautiful sexy woman. They stayed locked together kissing and caressing each other and within ten minutes Edward was hard again.

This time he fucked Glenda energetically for nearly an hour, they experimented with multiple positions and explored each other's bodies; she stripped down to knickers, stockings, suspenders and heels and he fully naked.

They never played up in Edward's office again. They met surreptitiously at hotels or motels at least once a week; at work they were nothing but professional. Glenda knew all about Edward's wife and that he would never leave her, it was a relationship of convenience for them both. Edward got regular sex from a woman he cared deeply for but didn't love and Glenda got the sex which she enjoyed, but she also manipulated Edward ensuring she got her way at work but couldn't break free of his hold over her.

Glenda was starting to resent Edward. As far as she was concerned he was getting a great deal, shagging a pretty young WPC and then going home to his wife while she was stuck working in the Chief Constable's office with no sign yet of the promised promotion or detective's assignment. She had started to become lazy and let herself go putting on weight and she resented herself for it.

The Essex Slasher case might just be the antidote to her recent apathy.

"I want to open a Special Crime Investigation," WPC Glenda Savage sat across the desk from the Chief Constable.

"Come on now Glenda. This is all a bit much. Not long now and you'll be promoted and seconded to CID," Edward smiled patronisingly at her across the desk.

"And will my collateral duties in CID still involve me dropping my drawers for you once a week at some seedy motel. Lying on the bed waiting for you wearing my whore's makeup and those black stockings and high heels you like so much?" Glenda retorted.

"Shh! Keep it down Glenda, people will hear you!" Edward said in a harsh whisper.

"I've formed a bond with Charlie Ringwald. She's the only victim to survive the Slasher and she knows more about him than she thinks. The Slasher has opened dialogue with Ruffe Ingersoll who has a strange but effective symbiosis with Charlie," Glenda continued.

"So what are you going to be? The three stooges? Two stooges and a tranny brass?" Edward chuckled and lowered his eyes to a document in front of him dismissively.

"Look sir, I know that the minimum rank to head up a Special Crime Investigation is Sargent, you can second someone from CID. Just so long as they know we will be a collaborative team with equal standing," Glenda would not be cut short.

"You're dreaming Glenda," Edward refused to look up or to be drawn any further into Glenda's preposterous idea.

"Did you hear about WPC Golding over at Redditch?" Glenda changed tack.

"What about her?" Edward said disinterestedly flicking through the file in front of him.

"She was shagging the DCI but they had a nasty breakup. She started sending the dirty sexy knickers the DCI had bought her to his wife through the post. Apparently it took some explaining but they're still together, although he's on a short leash," Glenda speculated.

"Of course he's been demoted and reassigned to a boring administrative position up north."

She had finally got Edward's attention.

"You wouldn't!" he hissed.

"Nah, I like my knickers too much. I'd probably send her my laddered stockings... you know the ones with your spunk on them... you do like coming on my stockings Edward," Glenda smiled at him.

"Keep it down!" Edward hissed again.

"I doubt Alicia will be as forgiving; she's a very pious woman I've been told. Of course my reputation will be besmirched but there's plenty of WPCs dropping their kit for senior officers, its passé; but a Chief Constable shagging one of his junior aids? That's not going to go down well at all," Glenda's smile widened.