The Queen and the Soldier

byEvil Alpaca©

"Mmh." Sandra let out a low, contented groan. "I'm glad you were able to make it tonight," she said. She already felt some of her fear and apprehension being siphoned out of her back by Jasmine's fingers as they worked their way down Sandra's spine. "I knew I would've spent the entire night jumping at my own shadow."

Jasmine smiled. "You know, if you would just make more time for yourself and try and meet someone, you wouldn't have to go calling the service at an ungodly hour in the morning. And don't go complaining about me mothering you," she continued, letting her hands drift down to trace the sides of Sandra's breasts. Then she slid down until her body lay completely on top of Sandra's, her hard nipples pressing into the woman's warm back. She brushed Sandra's hair aside and began nuzzling at her neck. "Stick out your hands," she said. Sandra stuck her arms straight out and Jasmine reached out to grab her wrists. Then the oriental looking woman continued kissing and nuzzling the neck of her Hispanic counterpart. She wished she spoke Spanish, because she would have loved to understand the words that started coming out of Sandra's mouth. Sandra was helpless to stop Jasmine's teasing. "You're a beautiful woman, Sandra. You're smart and strong. And no matter how long you hide in your office, someone's going to catch you and steal your heart." The started nibbling on one of Sandra's sexy shoulders and no more words were necessary. Sandra wanted to be taken out of herself for a little while, and Jasmine would act as her guide.

Jasmine traced her tongue as far down Sandra's spine as she could without releasing her hands. She kissed the sensitive skin just below the armpit and partially exposed swell of one of Sandra's breasts. Then she released the woman's wrists so she could reach behind her, parting Sandra's legs with one hand and dragging one long fingernail along the length of the woman's slit.

Sandra moaned. She was still a little dry, mostly do to her nervousness, but she knew that Jasmine would take care of that. Jasmine took care of everything. Sandra knew that calling the escort service and requesting this woman was a crutch, but that night it had been a necessary one. And now, the woman's fingers had begun working their magic. She started grinding her hips lightly against the bed as Jasmine's finger worked its way up and down her sex, remaining buried about half an inch in the entire time. Those lower lips were already beginning to swell and the skin was becoming slicker. Sandra kept her mound completely shaved, loving the extra sensitivity that having it bare provided. She felt a smack on her ass as Jasmine swatted it with her free hand. When the swat came down, Jasmine buried her finger into Sandra's box as far is it would go. She then left it there, letting it wiggle like a worm on a hook. Then she felt a second finger join the first. Then a third penetrated her, and the three acting as a single, small phallus as they pumped in and out of her femininity. She spread her legs a bit more and arched her buttocks towards the ceiling just a little, trying to give Jasmine room to maneuver those long, wonderful fingers.

After feeling her ass get spanked a few more times, Sandra felt those nails lightly raking along the soft skin of her back. They were never pressed hard enough to leave even a temporary mark, but they certainly lit up Sandra's senses. There was something almost primal about it to her. Jasmine was working her fingers like mad in Sandra's pussy, and then the Latin lady felt a thumb being pushed into her rectum up to the hilt. Sandra gasped. This was coming earlier in their session than she was used to, but she didn't mind too much. Not everyone followed the exact same schedule that she did.

And that's how things went for another ten minutes, Sandra laying face first on the bed while being straddled and fingered by Jasmine. Sandra thought it would take longer, considering her emotional state earlier that evening, but she had underestimated Jasmine's abilities. It wasn't a mistake she often made. Sandra felt the pressure building as the Asian beauty's fingers stretched her vaginal opening to its limits. Then all the pressure that had been building the entire night was released in a single torrent. Sandra's body shook like a rag doll in a windstorm as she came all over Jasmine's fingers, her own thighs and the bed sheets. She gasped, she groaned and finally, she collapsed.

Sandra felt herself being rolled over. Jasmine loomed over her, looking wholly satisfied with her performance. Sandra wished she could return some of the pleasure she had just received, but that was against Jasmine's rules. She had once said that allowing oneself to be pleasured gave too much an impression of a normal relationship. Even with the clients she liked, she needed to keep that thin line clearly drawn. This was business, and she was good at what she did. But that didn't mean that she didn't care.

Jasmine bent over and cupped Sandra's warm, 34-D tits in her hands, licking her dark aureole and applying great sucking pressure to her pert nubs. Sandra smiled. Not only was this pleasurable for her, she knew that Jasmine got a kick out it as well. Jasmine toyed with the nipples and then kissed the soft undersides of those wonderful mounds. With hands still on Sandra's breasts, Jasmine began kissing her way down the smooth skin of the woman's abdomen. Sandra kept in shape mostly by cardiovascular work and a good diet, but she wasn't really cut. Not that anyone who had seen her naked had anything to complain about. She had a pierced bellybutton, and Jasmine enjoyed running her tongue around and across the stud. But as much fun as it was for the woman from the escort service to tease Sandra's navel, there was another destination it enjoyed even more. Jasmine finally had to release her client's breasts, but it was no matter. Jasmine's face had reached Sandra's crotch, and there was work to be done.

Jasmine loved the contrast between the dark mound surrounding Sandra's secret garden and the light pink color inside. She pressed one finger from either hand inside, pushing the walls apart so that she could admire, and orally stimulate, the view. After some deep-tongue swipes, she started licking in circles, spiraling outwards towards the opening. She flicked her tongue against the clitoral hood a few times, each time eliciting a pleasant little moan. Then she started tugging gently on those soft, supple inner lips with her mouth. Then she tugged on them a little bit with her fingers while licking between them a few more times.

Sandra had never found anyone who could do what Jasmine did to her. She knew that Jasmine meant well when she encouraged Sandra to find someone, but the record executive wondered if anyone else would be able to satisfy her. Secretly, she was forced to acknowledge that was part of the reason she could never have Jasmine. The woman from the escort service had, in many ways, trained herself to be the perfect woman . . . the perfect lover. But Sandra probably wasn't the only girl who had brought Jasmine to her bed who had thought the same thing. All those women were riding an erotic carousel, each reaching for that brass ring that was Jasmine as their wooden horse swung past, none of them quite able to reach it. But that was part of the joy of being with that woman. Not the having, but the wanting.

And Jasmine had never left Sandra wanting. At that moment, Sandra wanted nothing more that to scream in ecstasy, so that's what she did. "Oh fuck!" she shouted with eyes glazing over. She was very glad that these were quality condos where the sound didn't carry too far. "Oh God! Oh! Oooooooooohhh!" Her body tensed again and her pussy twitched. Jasmine left her tongue buried deep in the slot as Sandra came, letting the woman's juice run into her mouth as if through a trough. Maybe it was just her still slightly romantic nature, but Jasmine always thought that Sandra tasted sweeter than most other women.

Jasmine crawled back up Sandra's body, finally lying next to her while propped up on one elbow. "So, were my services to your liking?"

Sandra flushed a bit. "I hate it when you say 'services' like that. You know I think more of you than that."

Jasmine's face grew a bit sad. "I know. It's why I would ask that you not ask for me at the service anymore."

Sandra was stunned. "But . . . I thought . . ."

"That I liked you? That you were special?" Jasmine sighed. "You are. You have become special to me. I'm actually quite fond of you, which makes certain aspects of my job more difficult."

"And it makes things too easy for me to use you as a crutch," Sandra reiterated from earlier.

"True. If you were to call and request me, by company policy I wouldn't be able to refuse. I would only ask that you promise not to ask. I think I could grow to enjoy your company, Ms. Sandra Lopez, but . . ." She let it hanging.

"But only as a friend?"

Jasmine nodded.

Sandra sighed. Actually, she felt a bit relieved, though she couldn't quite understand why. Maybe it was because this meant she might finally be forced to look for that thing which she had been putting off for so long, a real relationship that she might have to work at. She looked at Jasmine. "As . . . as a friend, could you stay with me? Just for the night?"

Jasmine smiled warmly. "As long as you can keep your hands to yourself," she joked, "I might even be able to stay for a while tomorrow. In case there is anything else you wanted to talk about."

Sandra smiled back. Then she realized that it was about three o'clock in the morning and that she was exhausted. The sudden sexual release had drained her of more than tension, and she was looking forward to sleep. She changed into a pair of cute but comfortable pajamas and offered a pair to Jasmine, who gleefully accepted. It was like playing dress-up at a teenage girl's slumber party. They lay under the covers, near one another but not touching. The talked for a little while, but Sandra was quickly overcome by sleep. Jasmine was happy for the new role she had an opportunity to play. She had many lovers but few friends. And as a friend, she might be able to give Sandra support in a way that an escort never could.

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A few days later . . .

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Sandra really wasn't very comfortable. She hadn't been in a police station before. How anything could simultaneously be so dirty yet sterile was beyond her. The police had actually found some of her stolen items and they wanted her to confirm their identity. They wouldn't be able to release the items yet as they were evidence in a murder investigation, but Sandra didn't care. She wanted to put the whole thing behind her as quickly as possible.

The only thing that was keeping her sane was Jasmine's assurances that an extraordinarily gifted individual was handling the case. Sandra had smiled at that. As a client, Jasmine hadn't been able to tell her anything about the redheaded cop with a stutter. As a friend, she couldn't do much more except to say that Sandra should be more patient with the woman should they cross paths again. Apparently, this investigator was worthy of respect. Over lunch the previous day, Jasmine had acknowledged that even SHE hadn't been able to discern all the woman's secrets. Sandra had pressed her new friend for more background information, but Jasmine had stonewalled her after that.

Sandra was sitting on a long bench in a hallway in the police station. Across the hall were a series of corkboards with newspaper clippings attached to them. They were stories about police officers. Just to occupy herself while waiting for the detective to come get her, she started browsing through them. Some were about light-hearted matters, such a charity auctions, silly rescues, stupid criminals or rescuing cats from trees with the help of the fire department. Others were more serious. Officers killed in the line of duty, police corruption accusations and . . .

Sandra stopped for a minute. The headline read, 'Rookie CSI Cop Is Shot During Botched Walkthrough.' The article described how the officers on the scene in a murder investigation had failed to adequately search and secure the crime scene. As a result, the fact that the murderer was still present went undetected until one Detective Jones accidentally flushed the perpetrator out of the closet he was hiding in. The suspect had been armed with small-caliber handgun and had leveled it at the officer's head. A rookie CSI cop, without the time to make drawing her own weapon a viable option, had grabbed the suspect's wrist and attempted to disarm him. In the ensuing struggle, the rescuing officer was shot in the upper chest, but luckily the bullet managed to avoid the heart and lungs. Sandra saw a picture of a pale white face topped off with red hair peaking grotesquely from beneath some artificial breathing apparatus. Sandra looked at that officer's name.

"That was one of the first cases I ever worked with her. That was about three years ago," came a soft voice beside her, making Sandra jump out of her skin. It was Detective Jones. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay."

"Are you ready to view those items now?"

"Yes," Sandra replied. "Listen . . . Detective Jones, I . . ."

"Call me Bobby," he said with a non-threatening smile.

She smiled back. "Bobby . . . I wanted to apologize to you and Investigator Reynolds . . . particularly Investigator Reynolds . . . for my behavior the other night. I . . ."

"Don't worry about it Ms. Lopez. When you've done as many of these cases as we have, it's easy to forget that not everyone else has become quite so desensitized." He led her into a room where a number of items were laid out on a table, with each item stored in a plastic bag. "Please point out items that you are sure are yours."

Sandra started looked over the table. "So, do you have any suspects? I guess that's a bit premature, but . . ."

"Actually, we made an arrest this morning. Obviously I can't tell you the details at this time, but we're fairly confident we have our guy."

Sandra was a bit stunned. "That was fast. So am I going to need to testify or anything?"

"No. Your alibi checked out, and it seems that you only stand to LOSE money in this whole thing. The only thing you would be able to testify to is that you didn't know the victim or have any idea why he was there. I think we can make our case without that."

Sandra finished looked over the items. Most of them were hers with a few exceptions. Detective Jones looked pleased, gathered up the items and had another officer take them back to the evidence room. About that time, Sandra saw a flash of red hair wandering by in the hallway. It was Investigator Reynolds. Detective Jones saw her too and went outside to intercept the woman. Sandra couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but both glanced into the room where she was standing. The redhead was looking increasingly nervous and started backing away before Detective Jones placed one hand gently on her shoulder and ushered her into the viewing room, then stood outside and leaned against the doorframe. It was as if he were playing goalie in case Inspector Reynolds attempted to leave the field of play.

The officer glanced first at the floor. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt, sweatpants and that same CSI baseball cap that she had been wearing the other night.

Sandra spoke first. "Officer Reynolds, I wanted to say how sorry I was about my behavior the other night. It was out of line to make fun of your . . ." She tried to think of a polite way of saying it.

"Stuh-... stutter," the cop filled in for her. "It's okuh-... okay to use the wuh-... word. And it's alruh-... alright. I wuh-... was a little fuh-... freaked out the fuh-... first time I saw a buh-... body like that. Actually, I thuh-... threw up." The woman was smiling a little now, showing two rows of perfect, pearly-white teeth. It was a pretty smile.

"Well, now that I have THAT bit of visual information to deal with," Sandra said. "Listen, regardless of how bad it was, I'm sorry that I was rude . . . Shannon, was it?" The woman nodded. "Listen, I realize that this probably isn't the best time to ask, but why don't you let me make it up to you? Maybe buy you a drink?"

Shannon looked like she had just been caught in the path of an oncoming train. She was glancing around nervously. "I'm suh-... suh-... suh-... sorry, buh-... buh-... but that would buh-... unethical cuh-... considering you're a wuh-... wuh-... witness in a muh-... muh-... murder investigation."

Was in Sandra's imagination, or did the woman's stutter just get a lot worse? "I'm sorry. Detective Jones told me that I wouldn't be called upon to testify or anything. But I thought that maybe at least after the investigation was over that . . ."

"I'm suh-... suh-... sorry, buh-... but I've guh-... guh-... got to guh.-... guh-... go." She turned on her heels and walked out the door, giving Detective Jones a not-too-gentle punch on the arm as she went past him on her way down the hall. The fairly stocky man came into the room, rubbing the spot where he had been hit.

"She must really be pissed at me," Sandra said a bit dejectedly. She had hoped that her apology might go over a little better. Things had seemed to be fine at first.

"No, she wasn't pissed at you," Bobby said. "She was a little pissed at ME for some reason, but not you."

"But her stutter got worse. Doesn't that happen when someone with a stutter gets angry?"

"Sometimes. Depends on the person. Shannon doesn't stutter more when she's mad. She stutters more when she's nervous. Trust me, you DON'T want to see her when she's mad."

"Why? Does she shoot dirty looks at people?" Sandra said. She couldn't imagine what the woman would be like when upset. She could barely finish a sentence when in a good frame of mind.

"Remember the article?" Bobby asked? "Well even after getting shot, she had enough left in her to disarm the suspect and toss all two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of him through a sliding glass door." Detective Jones held the door open for Sandra, who was more than a bit dumfounded. He noticed the confusion on her face. "The way I understand it, she's been taking Karate or something like it since she was six years old."

If Sandra had needed anymore proof of what the Detective had just told her, she was going to be getting it sooner than she expected. They were at the front of the station where Sandra had to fill out some paperwork. Investigator Reynolds appeared suddenly at her side. Sandra stopped and looked into the woman's eyes. For the second time, she was struck by how genuinely pretty the officer was. It looked like Shannon wanted to say something.

But at that moment, some officers were bringing a large man in, his hands secured behind him. The individual in question reeked of alcohol and various other odors. He had appeared complacent, but he suddenly acted up, letting out a guttural howl as he smashed his six-foot four-inch fat frame into one of the cops, knocking him down. He then head-butted the other officer and kicked a third in the groin, dropping both of them. The man had developed a maniacal look in his eye. Sandra had been around enough musicians to know that alcohol wasn't the only thing this guy was probably hopped up on. And then he saw Sandra, Shannon and Bobby, and he came charging up towards the desk with the apparent intention of assaulting anyone in his path. Sandra looked for a place to run. Bobby reached for his sidearm. Neither of them needed to bother.

Sandra barely saw Shannon move. The smaller woman stepped forward and planted a straight heel-kick onto the rampaging man's left kneecap. The sound of something breaking was audible throughout the lobby. Before the man could even collapse, Shannon swung one leg up and hit him with some kind of crescent kick to the side of his face. Sandra was sure she saw a tooth go flying somewhere. Two straight kicks to his ample stomach sent him staggering backward. Then it was something like out of a Jackie Chan movie. Shannon was facing northward when she jumped about three feet in the air, rotating her hips to put all the power she could into a roundhouse kick to the other side of the man's face. She landed back on the ground facing southward. The man spun around once and dropped like a rock. The other cops quickly moved to check on the man's condition, and paramedics were called.

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byEvil Alpaca© 69 comments/ 241499 views/ 315 favorites

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