The Runaway Ch. 03

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Watching the detectives.
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Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/20/2022
Created 08/01/2008
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cantdog
cantdog
27 Followers

The placid public edifice of stone and oak rose high-ceilinged above its seedy neighbors. South Slavs and Italians had carved and laid its imposing granite face a century ago, when the apartment buildings around it, even older, had been the manors of the barons of industry. The tall room on the second floor, lit, floored and furnished at low bid, retained little of the dignity intended by its Gilded Age architect, though the windows held their lintels the height of a man above the functionaries working in it.

On a report from the morning shift Detective Park saw a banal item in a list of banal items, and had a flash of insight. She identified it as her wedge, the one that would pry open her case.

"Come on, John," she said, "let's go. First Fed. Waterman went there yesterday afternoon and I want to find out why."

The two strode through the aging sallow corridor and down the granite staircase. "What've you got, Monica?" Forsythe asked, as the slanting sunlight struck them.

"A feeling."

Monica had redeemed her intuitive beliefs with courtroom convictions in the past. "So, nothing yet?"

"The bank will tell us, but I'm right."

Forsythe drove the silver-gray Yaris out of the annex and onto the street, signaling his turn. She was started on her story, now, and all he had to do was wait to get the details. He knew Park quite well after all this time.

"I think she's making ready to bolt," explained Park.

"So you think she pulled her money?"

"She's a runaway. She'll run again."

"Christ, you'd have run away, too. Her stepfather was raping her!"

"And now, we're going to pin his murder on her. Every bit as bad. She's going to run. I'll take point in the bank."

I'll go in, you loom behind me and look intrepid, Forsythe interpreted silently, but the role she was asking of him was an easy one. They stepped purposefully, yet with a certain casual insouciance, into the First Federal's black polished marble lobby. Without a warrant of any kind, it was important to look steely and official. No sweat. These were detectives on duty, large egos exempted from doubt by their heroic role and armored by their impunity.

Park's compact, athletic body stood ramrod straight at the corner of the mahogany desk until her presence alone forced the woman sitting there to address her. From the jacket of her power suit Monica produced her gold badge, so John displayed his. She explained that she was Detective Park, and that this was Detective Forsythe. At two o'clock the previous day, one of the bank's customers had been seen to enter it. She had evaded questioning in a suspicious death for almost a year, and was now consorting with a Palestinian, suspected also of involvement. Park gave her the name: Janet Waterman.

"We want to know what transactions she might have done here," she finished. Behind her shoulder and above her head Forsythe's impassive French features gave away nothing.

Because I say so wasn't a good enough reason for Helen Vukcic. People came in wanting to know what other people had done at her branch at least once a week. She remained seated and composed her answer carefully.

"And that is why the court has ordered that I get the record for you, I take it? No problem at all. I'll have to file the warrant, and then we have a desk for you, right in there." Her tone was helpful and gracious.

"We have not yet got a warrant, Ms. Vu--"

"Vukcic."

"Vukcic. Time is important here; we were hoping for your voluntary co-operation."

Park was seething as she strapped into the seat. "The bitch."

"Ms. Vukcic, she's the bitch, a bit of a hitch," agreed Forsythe. "Cammack should have gone into the bank yesterday, you know? We have to take over surveillance on Waterman in half an hour. If she buys a bus ticket or anything, we can make sure we hear her." Forsythe put it in drive.

"Sloppy," snarled Monica. "And that officious, prissy-bitch manager!"

"Half an hour. Where do you want to go for food and coffee?"

"Giacomo's?"

"Good."

Cammack and Montreux drove away, making for the stone edifice on State Street hill. Their taillights vanished around the corner, leaving Park and Forsythe alone in the darkening areaway. Lights showed in the windows of Janet Waterman's apartment.

John settled in for the evening. He pulled out a cigarette and tamped it on the car's window frame. "Another long night, it looks like," he observed.

He heard Monica release her seat belt, and then felt a little thrill as her fingertip drew a line from under his earlobe down to his collar. "We can make the time go, John," she purred. The finger traveled out to his shoulder and down his arm.

He smirked into her broad Korean face and caught her chin in his hand, caressing. "Well, then. Let's hope it's very long."

Her finger moved across his thigh top and made a circle around his zipper. "I'm hoping it's long. And hard, too."

She closed her eyes and bent in to kiss his lean mouth. Forsythe wondered what risky plan she wanted him to cover for, this time, but the price was right. When she had a gut feeling about a case Monica got it done, one way or another. He was willing to do his part, especially this part.

She smelled faintly like spice, wax, and distant flowers here at her cleavage, and he looked forward to the more animal scent further down the taut, creamy little frame. Her small fingers cupped the bulge through the crotch of his worsted wool trousers and her firm lips rolled over his.

Forsythe's hand worked up the inside of her stockinged thigh and put pressure against the dainty cunt. She curled her torso and opened her thighs to him, pressing him in tighter with her own hand. The impudent little cunt lips separated and moved against each other under his fingers. A whisper from the nylon and the subtle crunch of hairs came to his ears.

Though they may become familiar, some things never lose their ability to excite. John's head seemed to fill with heat. Her eyes, in the semi-darkness, looked like dark slots set in the oval face. She was meeting his gaze directly and she opened her legs more definitely to his hand, thrusting against it with twists of hip. "I want it, John," she breathed.

"Back seat," he tersely ordered, "and get those off."

*****

Janet lay on her side, one leg on Halili's shoulder. Her man fucked her, strong and slow, while he knelt between her legs. She raised up on an elbow to watch his face. She loved to watch his expression when he was close to coming. She squeezed her full, soft breast and held the nipple tightly. The soft flesh of her ass and thighs rippled under every thrust. Halili's belly muscles tautened and released, his thigh muscles stood out. In this position her pussy's grip was soft and subtle, his movement free. He worked his rough thigh against her clit with devilish science in a circular stroke, though she had already come, howling, when he had taken her from behind.

She bit her lower lip and whimpered, her fingers brushed her nipple. The delicate clutch of her pussy had its way, and Halili felt the tingle and tightness under his balls take on shape and point. "I'm coming, Janet," he panted. "get it with your mouth! Quick!"

Janet rolled and turned, peeled the covering from his swollen cock, and took him deep into her mouth. Six quick sucks and he seemed to explode. His cock lifted up, the head flared, and the first jet struck the back of her palate like a torrent. It jumped again, and splashed her tongue, and it kept twitching even once the jets of sperm no longer came. He had grabbed her red hair and pulled her to him, so that her forehead pressed his belly, and now his fingers relaxed. She loved his flavor. She loved his musky smell down there, everything about him made her just want more.

"Gawd, she had to hear us that time!" she said, grinning.

And she certainly had. The way the cheap walls and doors were made, they may as well have been behind a curtain. Lisa could hear that they were done, too, and she hurried to finish, fingers flying in and out across her swollen clit. She knelt, leaning an elbow on the back of the recliner to muffle her cries against. Her jeans were at her knees. Her naked ass squeezed tight, tipping her cunt forward into the path of her rapid strokes.

Yes! God, there it comes, oh Christ! Despite herself, a gasp and a little hoot escaped her mouth. She was sure they had to have heard! But she brought her come to a nice rounded end, wallowing, clutching her wrist between her strong thighs.

Then she listened. She could hear the man's change and keys jingle, and a zipper go. Swiftly she stood and closed her pants, then smoothed down her shirt just as the door opened.

"I saw them swap over," Lisa reported. "There's a new car there, now." Her eyes were bright and her face rosy and damp. She moved around behind them, almost dancing. "Have a look," she told them, gesturing at the window, "it's the gray one again."

Her roommate's voice was a little unsteady, and her smile too wide. Janet misinterpreted the signs.

"Sorry, Lisa, I'm really embarrassed."

Impulsively Lisa gave Janet a quick hug. "Please don't even think about it," she said. "He's so good for you. Now, you'll have to excuse me a minute." Quick as a squirrel, she darted around the door jamb into the bathroom, and closed the door.

The two lovers grinned at one another, then peeked out the window. They saw the two detectives get into the back seat.

"Did you see what she was doing?" asked Halili.

"I think she was taking off her pantyhose; what do you think?"

"Yes! That could have been it. There was a green thing, too. He was unbuttoning his shirt, I think."

"My God, they're gonna do it in the car!"

Halli laughed. "No question!"

"This is hilarious!" The bathroom door creaked open. "Lisa! The detectives are fucking in the back seat!"

*****

His back to the door, Forsythe had hooked a leg over the front seat's head rest. A naked Detective Park washed his balls with an avid tongue. Cords and veins stood forth on the glistening surface of his cock, as it wobbled obscenely above her eyebrows like a tube worm in an undersea fissure.

With a lithe twist, Park rotated face-up and wormed forward. With her head wedged under him, resting on the carpet, she was able to drive her tongue deeply up into the man's ass. He watched her hands as she masturbated herself before his eyes. Her athlete's body writhed and bucked, glistening with sweat. Her grunts of passion rent the air. It was incredibly hot. Forsythe was glad she wasn't touching his cock, because he'd have come for sure. Her tongue drove in and out, its rough surface the nastiest great sensation he'd ever felt.

"I want to eat it, Monica."

Her leg swung up and hooked around his knee and the creaking headrest, and suddenly there it was, barely out of his reach. Park didn't trim it, so the hair, in the poor lighting, hid everything but the opening in the center, pink, turgid, soaked, infinitely desirable.

"Come up another foot! Damn!"

Park lifted the other leg blindly, and Forsythe grabbed it, pulling her crotch in, tasting the gorgeous, rich musk and slick sweet salt, driving his generous nose between its folds. The detective closed his eyes and feasted, soaked in the fragrance of his partner's pussy. Curled like a snail, she rocked her head on the floor, fucking him. She was very close to her climax under his cruel tongue.

*****

"You can't see anything from here," objected Lisa. "How do you know that's what they're doing?"

The two recounted their evidence.

"Let's go out on the landing," Halili suggested.

But the little Yaris stood mute.

"Let's go look!"

"Gawd, Lisa! No!"

*****

"Oh, Christ! John, you have to stop! Please. No more." Park was supersensitive, overstimulated. She curled up and held her poor pussy in both hands. "Just give me a minute, okay?"

"How 'bout lubing up for that minute?"

"Yeah, okay. Where is it?"

"Just south of the minge."

Detective Park dug into her handbag. There was a squeeze bottle of Astroglide. Her badge wallet fell to the floor when she pulled it out. "Got it, got it. Just a minute, John."

"I like you like this, hands and knees. God, I love this. Rub it, round and round. Oh, yeah. You scabby slut. You crib whore!"

She had such exquisitely toned creamy skin, such perfect abs, such cute little tits. Her ass was like a boy's, though, all muscle, very slim, even though it was set wider than any boy's. But it was for free, and you can't order à la carte. On all fours, she was such a sailor's dream that it didn't matter. He already knew how tight and elastic she was going to be, when he fucked it.

Park craved a full-on, thorough, callous fuck. It must not be damped or tuned, and especially not tender. It was by no means just to ensnare Forsythe in her schemes that she awaited him, head low. Her clit was still tingling and her nipples singing.

"Treat me like a whore, now. I'm ready." He walked in on his knees in the tight space of the tiny automobile. "Fuck my ass!"

*****

Janet stood at the railing, watching Lisa and Halili approach the little car. They hugged the shadows, but every tread of a foot was audible. Nothing grew very well in among the apartment buildings; it was all clay or gravel.

They all froze for a weird, wordless groan, inside the Yaris. Lisa giggled. Janet whispered, "Gawd!"

They could hear his voice then, and hers-- little wails, mostly, and grunts, but they could make out some blasphemies. The stalkers were grinning now, and moved up more boldly.

Janet's cell rang, and she spoke into it. The two below could hear that she had an outcall. Lisa went right up to the car, then circled right a little. She stood stooped forward, one arm braced tight between her thighs, one hugging her chest. More circumspectly, Halili came slowly up behind her, ducking and peering in past Lisa's shoulder.

Halili could see they were fucking doggie style in the cramped space, but he could make out no details. He arose and turned at the sound of footsteps on the fire escape stairs. Janet was going out to dance, somewhere, he realized, and the detectives would have to follow her. Gently, he tugged Lisa's shoulder.

"Lay off!" she hissed.

"Janet is going out. They will go after her! Come back inside!" He waved to Janet, who blew him a kiss in return.

"Shit."

They were halfway to the first landing, still below the porch roof, when Janet's car started, casting red light back over the Yaris and over them, too. Lisa slapped a hand on Halili's back, and they both crouched there, looking between the railing supports. After a few beats, there came a ringtone, and the doors opened. Forsythe, hard dick still swaying, opened the front door rapidly and bent over. He spoke into the 'phone in acknowledgment. Both naked people were dressing in the red light and then in the succeeding darkness. In a flurry of clothing and soft laughter they put themselves together. Forsythe had to talk on the 'phone the whole time, numbers and code phrases.

The Yaris took off, spinning up gravel, turned and was gone.

"A policeman's lot is not a happy one," Lisa sang. He didn't get the reference, but no one ever did.

Halili seemed genuinely content. "That was fun!" Life was altogether better, from his angle.

"He was buttfucking her! Did you see that?"

"He was? No, I could not tell." They headed upstairs together. "He had this little, make-believe ass!"

"And big feet!" Lisa frowned. "Everyone has all this sex, but me."

Both police cars followed her when she returned to 21½ B. She found it very menacing, as if hyenas were following her everywhere. But in fact, she'd just had a break. Every other job since the surveillance began, they'd rousted her clients as soon as she'd gotten out of sight. A few more days would surely erode her livelihood. But the cops knew the address she'd been at this evening. It would pay none of them to molest a member of that family, even for the sake of a murder investigation. The idea wasn't even discussed.

At the door, Halili noticed her haunted expression right away. With gentle sympathy he drew her out and heard her worries through. Lisa impatiently cut the session short.

"We can cheer you up, though! Tell her!"

"I brought something from home, while you were out. Lisa has waited very nicely, but now you're here. Have a look."

"The hash!"

"Yes, indeed," Lisa smiled, "and the time has come. You were a long time. What happened, anyway?"

"It was a party, three guys. Nice house. I got a huge tip."

"Sit. Halili says, you first. Want Kind of Blue?"

They smoked and listened to Miles. Eventually, Halili brought up the thing that worried him.

"I wonder when you will go back. That man is gone. Won't you have to do something about the house?"

Janet stared at him. "That's right; I hadn't even thought!"

"Is it your house, Janet?" Lisa asked.

"I guess it is, partly. I have a sister, older than me. She lives in California." Janet thought about it. "Who would call her, though? I wonder what did happen? It's been a year, almost."

"Will the cops even let you go there?"

cantdog
cantdog
27 Followers
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