Out of Control

** I apologize to those of you that are looking for a quickie. I wrote this story some time ago and have finally decided to submit it. I am sure where it is leading but I would love some feedback concerning what should happen next. Happy Reading! K**

I stared across the scarred table at the one-way mirror located on the opposite wall. In its reflection, I saw myself and noticed that the florescent light did nothing for my complexion. I would have to speak to someone about that, I though smiling humorously. I need a haircut, I mussed as I critically looked at my waist-length brown hair. Not a trim, but a cut, something to shock people.

Just then, a man walked in followed closely by another man. The last man reminded me of a lost puppy who had found his owner. Or perhaps like someone with a schoolgirl...ahem, school boy crush. I quirked an eyebrow, sizing up the pair but wasn't able to discover the outcome of the big one's sexual proclivities. Hmm, I contemplated my gaydar must be off.

The gay one, who I'm sure had a name but whom I'd dubbed Alistair, settled in the seat across from me after checking with the big one. He was gripping a manila folder between his well-polished hands.

The large one however, stayed standing. I discovered quickly he was the dominant one just by watching his mannerism. He never came around to stand where I could see him, staying behind me and watching me the whole time in the mirror. Ahh, big man, he was trying to use scare tactics on little ol' me.

"Ms. Wilson," the big man began, breaking into my thoughts, "got any idea why I've called you in here?"

His voice, deep and melodic, boomed around the concrete room, sending a shiver up my spine. What the fuck, I thought, wondering at my body's awareness.

"Well, officer, could it be the unpaid parking tickets?" I said, trying for humor to keep my thoughts off my body's betrayal.

"Detective, Ms. Wilson," he replied sharply.

Oh, touchy about that huh? I mussed silently, must be trying to compensate for other problems. I smirked slightly before replying, "Excuse me, DETECTIVE," stressing the word.

In the mirror, I saw his eyebrows draw together making his look sort of like a Neanderthal. Well at least he wasn't always handsome.

"Ms. Wilson, this isn't a joking matter, I've brought you down here for a serious charge. You could face a lot of jail time."

"Detective, I don't see me laughing so if you could just cut the crap and get this show on the road. I'd like to go home and go to sleep sometime before I age anymore than I already am."

He drew himself up like a spinster with a broomstick stuffed up her ass. So the detective doesn't like orders, especially from a girly girl like myself. I rolled my eyes mentally and the only showing on my feelings was the way my eyes flashed lightly in the mirror.

Across from me, Alistair was beginning to look like he'd swallowed a lemon. What is with these men? I swear, you'd think they would have better poker faces.

Suddenly, surprising both men, and a little bit of myself, I grabbed the folder Alistair was holding, opening it to discover its contents. Inside it were pictures of young girls, ages unknown, dressed provocatively posing erotically. Alistair was a kiddie porn person. I looked up at him shocked, blurting, "Alistair, shame on you. I would have thought you'd go for the boys instead of the girls."

Behind me, big one barked a laugh, before covering it with a cough. However, his face darkened soon after before he grabbed the folder from me. "Ms. Wilson, we found these pictures on your computer."

I jerked my head to look at him directly. I looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "You are shitting me. You think I like kiddie porn?" I abruptly started laughing.

"I'm kinky, man, but I ain't that kinky. No, kids have never been my thing."

I continued to laugh hysterically, and for a second I think the detective contemplated slapping me to make me shut up. Guess he doesn't get to many women laughing weirdly at a subject such as this. I admit it wasn't a laughing matter but to think that me, the goodie-goodie of town, was involved in child pornography. My mother would be appalled. This made me laugh harder.

Finally I had myself under control and after I wiped the tears from my cheeks and had wiped my glasses, I looked at him in the mirror. Alistair had left, probably to go cry about the things that I had said. I would have to send him an I'm sorry card tomorrow. I snorted softly, like that would happen.

"Are you quite finished, Ms. Wilson?" he said, his voice again giving me goose pimples.

"Detective, why don't you call me Arielle? I mean you've accused me of being a pedophile. Now I'm finished with the laughing, and I'd like to get this cleared up as soon as possible. I've got to pee, by the way."

"I'll allow you to use the bathroom once I've had some questions, Ms. Wilson." So that was how it was gonna be huh? Ok, two can play that game.

"Are you charging me with possessing child porn, Detective? Because if you are, I get one phone call. If you aren't then I'd like to use the fucking bathroom." I didn't let any emotion enter my voice, all the while staring at him standing over my shoulder. I saw his mouth quirk at the use of a curse word. So the detective's like everyone else, I thought. He takes one look at me and sees what he wants to see.

Standing at 5'2 and weighing 135, I was short and fat. I knew it, other people knew it, and I was comfortable with it. I had been called everything from elf, to hobbit, to little person at one time or another during my lifetime. The great thing about being short though was that you always looked younger than you really are. So when people discovered that I was 25, they often exclaimed that I didn't look a day over 20. Bless their hearts.

"Detective," I began, " If you don't give me a goddamn bathroom break, I am going to start screaming something extremely unkind about you. Something along the lines of you getting you pencil dick out of my face. I don't believe your superiors allow fornication between interviewers and interviewees."

I watched his face after I finished my little speech and knew he was trying to see if I would do just what I'd said I was going to. I wouldn't but he didn't know that. I'd never scream rape unless it actually was going on. I had no respect for women who did that sort of thing.

He must have thought I would because he allowed me the time to use the rest room but as soon as my break was over, I was ushered back into the small room with the ugly colored walls. I was a lady enough to whisper "thank you" to the young woman who had walked me from the bathroom. She looked at me in surprise, and then told me I was welcome.

The detective was waiting for me, exactly where I'd left him. He didn't look like he'd moved a muscle, and I wondered for a minute if he got stove up from standing like that. I settled back into my seat, all the while, looking at him in the mirror. I gestured to the chair in front of me, indicating that I wanted him to sit down. However, he simply shook his head and stayed where he was.

"Alright, Detective, ask away. I'm an open book."

"Ms. Wilson, -"

"Arielle."

"Ms. Wilson, how do you explain that those pictures got on your computer?" he asked getting right to the point. I liked that in a man. Whoa, where in the hell did that come from?

"Well, I haven't any idea, detective, I only have your word that they came from my computer. Who is to say this isn't some kind of frame up?" I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Damn it, girl, I'm not playing with you. Where in the fuck did you get those pictures?" he screamed the question at me, his face showing his anger.

"Don't yell at me, I don't have any idea where they came from. I, however, do know that I am not a kiddy porn addict. I don't even like the idea of the thing. Perhaps you could bring me my computer and I'll try to discover the place and time."

The detective thought about the request and seemed like he would go along with it. He left the room without talking and I sat there contemplating what was happening. How had the porn got on my computer? No one was allowed on there but me. I used my laptop for work and for recreation but I didn't look at kiddie porn on the net. I knew of people who did but I didn't partake.

He returned carrying my laptop, which he sat in front of me. The computer was already booted up and opened to my profile. I was extremely impressed at the way they had cracked my password. Not many people were able to hack it, and I told the detective this. He smiled evilly and didn't say anything. I rolled my eyes, letting him know that I knew good and well that he himself hadn't done the hacking.

He frowned at me, and then motioned for me to begin. My fingers flew over the keys while I raced to find the source of the pictures. I looked through my hard drive and found something in the temp files that then lead me to ask the detective if I could go online for a few seconds. He nodded and before he could call for a phone line, I was hooked up. I smiled simply at his dumbfounded look, knowing that he hadn't been the one to crack my password. I muttered, "wireless connection" before jumping headlong into the maze that I had been lead on.

I forgot he was standing behind me and did what I did best. For a while during my youth I'd dabbled in hacking and had been good at it, if I do say so myself. However, I'd never been able to do anything illegal, damn my southern Methodist upbringing. So soon I'd been out of a hobby.

Ten minutes after I'd started, I'd discovered the origin of the mysterious pictures. They had come from a website, which I had logged onto quiet often, who had sent the popup ads along. The pictures had been logged onto my computer, causing this whole thing. I turned to the detective, to smile smugly at him, letting him know I was smarter than him only to find him staring at the computer screen bizarrely. For a second I thought he might have had a heart attack, but no, he was still breathing normally.

"Well, Detective, now that we know where the pictures came from, I'd like to go home if you please. I'll be taking this with me," I said, logging off the web and starting to pack the laptop up.

This seemed to shake him from his stupor. "Not so fast, little girl. I know where the pictures came from, that doesn't explain why they were on your computer. They wouldn't have been had you not been looking at them."

I looked at him with an expression that said, are you really this dumb? I sighed, lowered the computer back to the tabletop and then turned in my chair to look at him. "You know, I really dislike you," I said, tiredly.

"You don't have to like me, you've just got to give me the information that I want. So explain the websites that I just saw you accessing."

I sighed again, and began. "Detective, every time a person logs onto a website their viewing is recorded. I'm sure you've seen the little ads on the web that want money to remove the .DAT files from your computer. Well, that's how the pictures got on my computer. I am, however, unsure how you were notified that I'd been anywhere near the site though. As for the sites you saw, those are just simply sites that I enjoy looking at and since I've over the age of 18, hell, over the age of 21, I don't think it's a federal crime."

"I saw something on there that said incest, perhaps you'd like to explain that, little lady."

"I swear to god, if you call me little one more fucking time, I'm gonna go from your goddamn knee caps…pencil dick."

I growled this at him merely to keep his mind off his question, yet I saw quickly that it wasn't going to work. Shit, I was extremely busted and I just hoped that the good detective could keep him big trap shut and make sure that this didn't get out.

"Yeah, those websites were concerning incest. However, the people featured on there are no more related than you and I are. It's a business venture, Detective, the people that create that site do so to make money and if they tell a few lies to make it, all the better for them."

He considered this for a few seconds, and then said quietly, "Where you molested as a child, Kitten?"

I laughed loudly, saying, "No, asshole, I wasn't molested, and I never saw my mommy and daddy having sex. Hell, I haven't even seen them naked, thank the good lord on that one," I muttered.

He appeared hurt and for a second I felt bad for him, that is until he opened his mouth, and then once again he was the asswipe holding me against my will in a cramped police interrogation room

"So what? You go on this website and fantasize about your father coming into your bedroom one night, and pulling your panties down?"

I looked at him with hatred in my eyes. "That's right, I dream about waking up to find my daddy on top of me, his hard dick in my mouth and his hand in my pussy. I want to scream Fuck Me Daddy at the top of my lungs so the neighbors around us will all know he's doing me, and doing me hard."

I saw him swallow hard and knew he was getting into my performance. Hey, I thought, why not torment him for a while? I tilted my head slightly, allowing my veil of hair to cover my face. Underneath it I smirked. Oh, he was asking for it.

"I want my daddy to hold me, and cuddle with me, Detective. I want him to spread me out on my bed, tie me to the bedposts, then shove his hard cock so deep inside me that I feel it hitting the back of my throat." I lowered my voice to almost a whisper, "Would you be my daddy, detective?"

I looked at the mirror, and saw that he was aroused. I got him now, I deliberated.

"I'd be a very good girl, sir. I'd let you do anything you tell me to. I've been told that I'm the best little girl that there ever was."

On the last word my voice cracked and I began to laugh. This shook him from his daydream of my probably hanging from the rack in his basement. "Little Bitch," I heard his mutter, which made me laugh even harder.

Once again I was laughing hysterically, and again he allowed me to finish before he began to speak. "You had me going there for a few minutes. Very good performance by the way." I inclined my head, acknowledging the compliment.

"Detective, let me cut the act. I look at these websites simply because I like them. I admit I am a daddy's girl in majority but I've been known to play other roles. I once was a French maid for an older gentleman who had always had a thing for them. I was a dominatrix for this wimpy man who liked to call me Mistress."

I raised my eyebrow at him, letting him know I thought he'd like that particular role, only to go on, "I guess you could call me an amateur actress. I give men what they dream about without having to go out and buy it. I don't judge, I just play. I've never had sex with them in real life but for a little while, I'm whatever the man wants, in one way or the other. I can be the little woman, who wears pearls when she makes dinner, but who will suck the best dick when she returns to the bedroom.

"I can also be the teenage daughter they've always wanted but loved enough not to hurt. I'm the seducer, the seduced, and I'm always ready. I don't say no, unless they want me too.

"I've been taken every where, from the bathroom, to the bedroom, to the bench in the park. I'd even let you do me on this table right now if you asked me to, that is if it were online. I'm the traditional cyberslut, detective, and I'm good at what I do. I'm open 24/7 and I don't care what color you are, how big you are, or if you can get it up like you use to."

I watched him as I talked, knowing he was imagining me in each of the roles I had just talked about. I knew he wanted to touch me, to perhaps take me up on the suggestion I held in my eyes, yet he didn't.

"I'm always looking for another client, detective, and for $4.99 a minute, you too, can have any fantasy you want fulfilled. I can be the little girl, the mistress, the wife, the mother, the niece, or even the sub/slave. Would you like to tie me up, detective, bind my breasts and then place clothespins on my nipples? Or perhaps you'd like me to do that to you? No? How about, the naughty schoolgirl called to your office because she's worn too short a skirt? Would you like that, detective, if I walked in wearing nothing but a tight button down shirt and a short plaid skirt with knee-highs? I think you would."

I half-rose as if to take a step to him and as I did I heard him growl. Suddenly, the door of the room was slamming open and I was being ushered out. I grabbed my computer, my purse, and hustled out the room without once giving him a backward glance.

He watched her leave the room, staring at the swaying of her hips. They moved almost as if to the beat of a hidden drum. He wanted to take those hips in his hands, to caress the smooth skin surrounding them. They were just the right size of him. He'd always liked his women with weight on their bones. He shook his head at his thoughts, thinking while the package might have been sweet, the inside was nothing but briars.

He smirked remembering one of the barbs she had thrown at him during the interview. "Detective, if you'd be so kind as to kiss my ass, maybe you'd be better off." She was like one of those people who'd smile while they were stabbing you in the back. He had at that point wanted nothing more than to return a comment but he knew his superiors had been on the other side of the glass.

Thinking of his supervisors reminded Marcus Jackson that they had witnessed Arielle's little performance earlier and also his response to it. He groaned deeply as his mind reviewed all that had happened. He could recall vividly the way her voice had caressed the shocking words that had spouted from her luscious full lips. He always been a sucker for accents and as Kitten had progressed in the interview, the deeper her's had gotten.

Kitten, hmm, he thought, he'd call her that earlier when he'd asked her if she had been molested. She reminded him so much of an alley kitten, fluffy and approachable on the outside, but able to fight if her back was to the wall, as it had been tonight.

He frowned, recalling what he had first thought when he had walked in to Interrogation Room 3. He had taken one look at her and known there was no way she could have been a pedophile. Hell, he thought, she didn't look old enough to drink, no more than a kid herself. However the evidence they had against her definitely pointed to her.

"Jackson," a voice broke into his thoughts, "Chief wants to see you in her office."

Marcus turned and saw the new rookie the department had hired to replace on of the robbery/homicide people. What was the kid's name, he thought, Tanner, Turner, Tarpin?

"Thanks, and hey good job on your last bust, heard it was tough," Marcus said as he walk past the man 10 years his junior.

The kid beamed, enjoying the praise and Marcus almost grimaces at the look of hero worship shining in the kid's eyes. Great, that's all I need, he thought as he made his way to Captain Emma Renault's office, another damn shadow. Bad enough, I got Jerome hanging on my ass cheek, now this one would be hanging on the other one.

Thinking of Jerome made him recall what Arielle had blurted out to the pale, slight man. The comment had amused Marcus cause the thought of Jerome liking any kind of sex other than normal was so out there.

Before he had time to contemplate that last though, he was standing in front of Cap's closed office door. He knocked politely and waited on her brisk word of entrance before making a move inward.

He settled himself down across from her and looked at her without emotion. There was no love lost between the two of them but they tolerated each other because they knew the other was great at their jobs.