To Serve & Protect: Temptation

"Are you coming to bed fully dressed?" Joyce inquired.

With almost eye defying speed, Pat shed her t-shirt, bra and kicked off her shoes. She wiggled her jeans down her hips. For a moment she stopped, embarrassed at the contrast between her plain white cotton panties and Joyce's sexy lingerie. Then she stepped out of the tight denim and crossed to the bed. She knelt on the edge, her hands gently running up and down the slender curves of this exciting woman.

"Please, Pat, kiss me," breathed Joyce.

Pat slide her hands up Joyce's sides and covered the blonde woman's body with her own. Her lips locked onto Joyce's. Tongues clashed as both women strove to explore each other's mouth while hands roamed freely, discovering the wonderful sensitivity of their bodies. Legs covered and caressed legs, hard nipples jutted into soft breasts and already damp panties rubbed together.

Joyce was athletic, but although smaller, Pat's exercise regime was for strength, and she pinned the taller woman beneath her. Joyce gasped as Pat slowly worked down her body. Her hands captured by her side, she surrendered to the sensations. Pat's lips seemed to cover every inch of her, from her jaw line, down her neck and to her breasts. The gentle tug of lips gave way to the scrape of teeth on her achingly hard nipples.

Joyce's legs parted as Pat's oral trek down her body resumed. Kissing and licking, the other woman left a trail down her stomach and over her mound. Pat paused, catching the hem of Joyce's drenched panties in her teeth. With a sudden jerk of her head, the policewoman tore the flimsy material and buried her face in the now exposed blonde bush.

"Oh my God," moaned Joyce. Her hands dropped to the head of short cut hair between her legs. Her eyes closed as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Pat's tongue seemed to be everywhere. One moment it was dragging up and down her open slit. The next moment it danced over her swollen clit. With a quick tilt of her head, Pat suddenly drove inside her, rasping along her slick inside walls. Hands snaked back up her body to catch and hold her breasts.

Pat's lips closed on her clit and tightened. As the first shock ran through Joyce's body, fingers closed on her erect nipples and pinched them> With an unrestrained scream Joyce tried to slam Pat's face all the way inside her as a tremendous orgasm took her.

When the spasms stopped, Joyce pulled Pat up to her. She kissed her, tasting herself on the other woman's lips. She sighed, then glee bubbled to the surface. She pulled back a bit and said "Now your turn, darling. Get on your hands and knees." When Pat responded with alacrity, Joyce knelt behind her new lover.

Pat had a lovely body. More boyish than her own, it was taunt and muscular but still fully a woman's body. Joyce kissed the small of Pat's back, then ran her tongue between the firm globes of her ass. Pat shook and moaned when Joyce's tongue brushed her rosebud

"Yes," Joyce smiled wickedly. "You like that, don't you baby? Well, hold on." She crouched further behind Pat's upraised bottom. One slender finger slid between the smaller woman's legs, parting the puffy lips of her pussy. Joined by a second finger, they slipped back and forth, working along the open pink slit and forward to fleetingly touch Pat's throbbing clit.

Faster and faster worked Joyce's fingers. Her tongue licked along the perineum, rasping the sensitive skin. At the top of each stroke, she paused to wet the tight puckered hole there. Carefully she maintained her pace, feeling Pat's body tense and her moans of passion grow louder and louder.

Joyce realized her new lover was reaching the point of no return. As she felt the first shudder run through Pat's body, Joyce suddenly shifted her entire body. Rolling onto her back she squirmed under Pat. Her free hand reached up to Pat's back, pushing the dripping vagina down to her own eager waiting tongue and open mouth. As her tongue curled deeply in Pat's pooled nectar, Joyce's other hand slid up the cleft of Pat's bottom and, in one swift movement, she drove her two soaking fingers all the way into Pat's ass.

Pat screamed. She flooded Joyce's face with a rush of her juices. The sensation of being penetrated deep in her ass contrasted completely with the softness of Joyce's mouth on her cunt. She came violently, losing control of he arms and legs in the onset of her orgasm. She all but smothered Joyce when she helplessly fell on top of her.

When sanity and strength returned, the two of them were curled together in a mass. Amid the smiles and soft touches came an unspoken commitment to each other.

Joyce returned to the present. She blushed as she realized that during her daydream her hand had crept between her legs. She stood and walked to the mirror. Well, she had screwed that up so long ago. Not only had she taken a side lover but when caught she had affected to be indifferent. Partly she had been, sure of her own attractiveness, but what Pat had never seen was the facade she had hid behind to cover her guilt.

Joyce shook her head. That was the past. She decided to go join Theresa. As she clicked off the lights and closed the doors, she had another thought. She wondered if Pat was completely over her. She knew she had never gotten over Pat.

Over the next two days, Joyce saw groups of cops moving all around the hotel. Once only did she catch a glimpse of Pat, talking animatedly to a large black male officer as the two of them entered one of the conference rooms. On the spur of the moment, she decided to see if she could find Pat's room number.

Joyce approached the desk, having waited until the older clerk had been replaced by a young guy just out of his teens. She had previously adjusted her blouse, opening the top two buttons. She gave the young man a winning smile.

"Excuse me. I need to get the room number for Miss Morrison. She's one of the police officers attending the seminar here. I had it and I'm afraid I misplaced it."

"Ah, ma'am, I'm afraid I'm not able to give out room numbers without the permission of the guest." The young clerk's voice trailed away and his eyes bulged as Joyce leaned on the counter. His eyes were glued to the display of her breasts straining against her half-opened blouse.

"Please? She's an old friend and I want to surprise her." Joyce leaned a little farther and the young man almost fainted. He gulped, turned one eye to the computer and frantically typed.

"I'm sorry," the clerk said. "There's no one listed by the name of 'Morrison'."

"Oh, thank you very much." Joyce frowned as she turned away. She silently berated herself. Why hadn't she thought to look at Pat's nametag the other day? The answer to that was, of course, simple. Pat had been 'Morrison' and therefore she would always be 'Morrison'. "God," Joyce said aloud, as she was struck by a sudden thought. Had there been rings on Pat's left hand?

The next morning Pat came through the hotel front door following her morning run. She was absorbed in checking her pulse and didn't see or hear Joyce approach until the other woman spoke.

"Still three miles?"

"Just two for a long time now, I'm afraid," Pat answered ruefully.

"I do have to say that you look a little broader in the hips and the stomach then you used to." Joyce commented, wondering what response she would get.

"Well, having children causes that," Pat replied, looking as though Joyce's catty comment was of complete indifference to her. "I never did work off the results of the twins."

"Twins?" Joyce realized how silly that sounded and tried again. "So you're sleeping with men now?" She groaned to herself. Good God, she was coming across as an idiot.

Pat laughed merrily, "Just one I must confess. My husband Mike. That's why you couldn't find me when you asked at the desk. My last name is 'Gibson' now. It has been since, oh, about two years after we broke up."

Joyce flushed. "How did you find out I asked about you?"

"Don't worry, the young man was so dazzled by your charms he would have never said a word. But the assistant manager was in her cubbyhole around the corner and heard. When she realized that someone was looking for one of the law-enforcement guests, she notified the conference staff. They ran a computer check, my maiden name popped up me, and they contacted me. When I checked with the clerk, he described completely the woman who had made such an impression on him." Pat giggled, and Joyce was once again struck by how relaxed the once always-determined and driven woman was. "After all Joyce, you were asking about a guest and didn't know her last name. For all she knew," for a moment Pat's eyes seemed far away and her mouth tightened, before her smile returned, "You could have been a stalker."

"I'm sorry," Joyce apologized, realizing it seemed lame.

"Its okay," Pat assured her. "Rather flattering in a way, to know you were asking." Pat hesitated. "Joyce, how about lunch today? I have a long break between seminars and we could catch up when I don't desperately need a shower."

"Sure," replied Joyce, already thinking of where to send Theresa shopping.

Lunch was pleasant, but at the same time a strange undercurrent ran through the conversation. Pat concentrated on talking about all that had happened over the intervening years. She proudly showed the collection of pictures of her children that made her pocketbook fairly bulge. She told about Mike, how they came to be together and the years they had shared together.

Joyce, on the other hand, kept turning the conversation back to the days when they were together. Pat would question and prod and get Joyce talking about her travels and what she had been doing over the years, but Joyce would always steer the conversation back to the "good old days."

"Pat?" Joyce asked after they had declined dessert and asked for their bills. "I want to ask you something that's been on my mind since I saw you here the other day."

"Well," Pat tried to smile, but felt herself come on guard. "You can always ask. I don't absolutely promise to answer."

Joyce reached across the table and took Pat's hands in hers. "Have you ever wondered what would have happened if I had not been so caught up in myself back then? I mean, if we had stayed together. Do you think we would have made it as a couple?"

Pat flinched almost imperceptibly at the touch of Joyce's hands. The long ago feel of her hands was somehow disquieting, and at the same time almost comfortable. She tried not to pull back but simply accept the touch as nothing important.

"I suppose I have a time or two Joyce. Who doesn't think back on what might have been? But I'll tell you, Might-have-been is a poor substitute for what I have now." Feeling uneasy at the whole situation, Pat slipped her hands free and stood up, snatching her bill as it was laid down. "I have to go," she blurted and headed for the cashier after dropping a tip for the waitress on the table.

Pat didn't look back. If she had, she would have been even more uncomfortable with the smile playing on Joyce's lips.

That night, Pat was dreaming of making love to Mike. She had her arms wrapped around her beloved husband. He was effortlessly holding her up in the air, her toes 8 inches off the ground. One firm hand was on her back, the other clamped firmly on her butt. Her body bumped against his and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She giggled as she felt his hard cock trapped between them. She wiggled her midsection, eliciting a groan and a muffled "I'll get you missy" from him.

She stopped his mock complaints with a kiss, her tongue sliding into his mouth. He kissed her back, their tongues dueling. Her legs tightened and relaxed around him, making her mound slide up and down on his rigid cock. She felt a touch of moisture from him on her belly, trickling down to mingle with her own wetness.

"Mike, Mike, Mike," she gasped. "Take me to bed."

Her husband carried her down the hallway to their bedroom, closing the door behind them with a push of his foot. He walked her backwards to the bed, bending over to release her onto the covers. She feel back, wiggling all the way onto the bed, her legs open and her arms stretched over her head. She closed her eyes, already arching herself to meet him as the edge of the bed sagged to his weight. She felt the head of his cock touch her open pussy and his breath sweet on her face.

Sweet on her face? What the heck? She opened her eyes and all but yelled. The form crushing her into the bed wasn't Mike, it was Joyce. She looked wildly between them. It wasn't her husband's cock sliding deep up inside her but rather Joyce's strapon.

"Oh My GOD!" Pat sat bolt upright in bed. Sweat poured off her. In spite of having quit over twenty-five years ago, she craved a cigarette. She threw back the covers and walked to the desk top fridge. She dumped part of the contents of the ice tray into a glass and smothered the cubes with Scotch. The smoky taste burned down her throat, making her cough and waking her up. She moved to the sink, added water and walked to the window. She drew the curtains, knowing the darkness of the room prevented anyone from seeing her, and looked over the sleeping city.

"What the hell am I thinking?" she asked herself aloud. Her mind roved back to her breakup with Joyce, then to her one-night stand with Liz and subsequent weekend with Linda. She sat down, sipped her drink, and recalled the conversation when she had finally confessed everything to Mike. She remembered kneeling in front of him, tears in her eyes as she came clean to him about everything. She had been terrified of what might happened but determined to be honest about her mistakes.

Then he had smiled, so gently, and asked her two questions. "Is it ever going to happen again?" Her throat so tight she had not been able to speak, she had violently shook her head. "Okay, then, case closed." At her incredulous look, he had suddenly given her a wicked grin and asked, "So how should we thank Linda for saving your life?"

But that was one time and one time only she reminded herself. And it hadn't been as simple as that. There had been a lot of work put into regaining the stability of their marriage. Of course, covering each other in more than one gun battle was one hell of a way to reestablish trust. For over 20 years now she had been a one-man woman, only Mike's and Mike only hers. Not that she didn't look occasionally at an attractive guy or a girl, but she had actually never even dreamed about anyone besides Mike. Now she had. She buried her head in her hands, then laughed aloud as her drink, forgotten in her hand, spilled all over her. As she moved to the shower she decided she simply would see no more of Joyce. She would erase the images from her mind and that would be the end of that.

The final day of the training seminar arrived. Pat had managed to duck Joyce. The only time she saw her, the other woman was with Theresa. Pat noticed the young companion seemed to be genuinely attracted to Joyce, and felt a great sense of relief. She wondered if Joyce had even realized how strong Theresa's feelings were for her.

At noon, the leading instructor made a final presentation, summing up what they had covered on the latest techniques and methods of training, both of new police officers and of conducting in-service refresher training for veteran officers. At the end, he grinned and said, "See you tonight at 8 for the dinner and the dance. Until then, relax."

Pat made a beeline for her room. She laid out her formal uniform with the long skirt and then ran the tub full. Adding bubble bath and lighting a couple of candles, she sank gratefully into the hot water, determined to think of nothing for as long as she could.

She had been enjoying her bath long enough to start wrinkling, and was concluding it was just about time to be climbing out, when she heard a knock on the room door.

"Who is it?" she called, hoping it was someone she could tell to get lost.

"Its Joyce."

Pat reluctantly pulled herself out of the tub. She dried off and pulled her short terrycloth robe around her. Tying the cord around her waist, she went to the door and opened it.

"What is it, Joyce?"

She stood fidgeting in the doorway. "May I come in?"

"Sure," Pat led the way back to the living area. She was curious what Joyce wanted. She didn't think about how she was dressed, not realizing that Joyce's eyes were fixed on the subtle sway of her bottom and the movement of her legs. "Want some coffee?" she threw over her shoulder as she bent to take the papers and manuals off the second chair and dump them on top of the table.

"No thanks." Joyce remained standing. A look Pat couldn't interpret was fixed on her face.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, Pat remained on her feet too. She finally broke a silence that seemed to stretch as long as the last 25 years.

"What is it Joyce?"

Joyce opened and closed her mouth several times. She realized she couldn't come up with the words she wanted. Perhaps actions could speak louder. Stepping close to her ex, she took the smaller woman in her arms and kissed her.

Pat was surprised. She felt Joyce's soft lips on hers. Long buried memories surfaced and her lips parted slightly. Their tongues touched. It was all so far-away in time and yet so incredibly familiar again. Pat's arms rose jerkily, uncertain and then her hands rested on Joyce's hips.

Joyce's heart beat wildly. Yes, this was happening. She could feel Pat respond. Her right hand slid between their bodies, seeking the opening of Pat's robe. Her fingers found it and she felt Pat draw a deep breath as her hand slipped under the cloth to Pat's warm smooth skin.

Joyce's fingers gently explored the once so familiar smoothness. The sash of the robe opened a bit more and the kiss deepened. Joyce's hand slid up to just below Pat's breast when her fingertips encountered a ragged scar. Involuntarily she moved slightly back.

As slight as that movement was, it let Pat regain control over herself. She broke the kiss, stepped back and caught Joyce's hands in her own.

"Pat, what are you doing?" Then Joyce's curiosity broke through and she asked, "And what was I felt?"

"Second question simplest. That was a bullet scar. I have two of them. And they're part of the answer to the first question." Pat continued to hold Joyce's hands. "Joyce, I've listened to you and thought about you. I remember what we had together. Joyce, it was good, so very good once. But its over now, long over and done with."

"But you still find me attractive, desirable."

Pat looked at her long ago lover. Once again, Joyce caught the look of sympathy, this time mixed with understanding.

Of course I do, but that's not the point Joyce. I find other women sexy, I find other men sexy too." She laughed. "Mike's pal, Jack Washington, for example. Yummy. But I would no more have an affair with you than I would with him. I'm married, Joyce. That's the end of it."

At that moment there came a demanding rap on the door. "Open in the name of the lawwwwww," came from the hallway.

Pat rolled her eyes. Tying the sash of her robe she jerked open the door.

"If that was supposed to be your Martin Lawrence imitation, well, don't quit your day job."

Joyce stood still as Pat ushered a tall man into the room. She instantly recognized Mike.

"Hey, company?"

"Honey, this is Joyce Smithers. Joyce, this is my husband Mike Gibson."

Mike looked at Pat in her short robe. He lifted one eyebrow. Pat shook her head. Mike smiled and blew her a kiss.

"What was that?" asked Joyce, confused by the silent actions.

"Mike asked me if I had been having sex with you. I told him 'No' and he said 'okay'."

"How do you know your wife and I didn't have sex together?" demanded Joyce, glaring at Mike. "You may not know it but she and I were lovers long before you came into her life. And you may not like it but she's still attracted to women, still attracted to ME."