The Octopussy Necklace Ch. 01

(A very special thanks to Shiree for making this a better read)

*

As the first big drops of rain splashed to the sidewalk, Tom cupped his hands under Nikki's elbow and said, "We can make it to the shopping mall - if we run." She nodded, held up her skirt with her left hand, and ran lightly, her weight forward on the balls of her feet, her stride long and easy, with lots of knee action. Tom, long legged as he was, did not have to hold back on her account.

The first forerunners of the shower had caught them on a side where there were no protective awnings. By the time they reached the corner, the eaves were sluicing rain. The portico of the mall was twenty yards from the corner. They sprinted for it, while raindrops, pelting like liquid bullets, hit the sidewalk so hard they seemed to rebound before exploding into mushrooms of water.

Tom guided his wife thru the revolving door. "Come on," he said "This rain's good for half an hour, and there's a restaurant on the top floor where we can have coffee and talk."

Her laughing eyes regarded him from under long lashes in sidelong appraisal. "I didn't think I'd ever get you into a shopping mall's coffee room, Tom."

Tom regarded the drops of water on the sidewalk, "its fate Nikki," he laughed. "And remember, I'm not going to squire you around while you shop. We get in the elevator and go to the top floor. I pay no attention when the attendant says, "Second floor ... women's fur coats and lingerie, third floor diamonds, pearl necklaces and gold ear rings, and ..."

She gave him a playful pinch and laughed.

They crowded into the elevator. It moved slowly upwards, stopping at each floor while the girl called out the various departments in a tired monotone. "We forgot children's toys on the fifth," Nikki pointed out.

Tom's eyes were wistful. "Someday, Nikki," he said, "after I have bagged some big contracts I am going to get a railroad track with stations, tunnels, block signals and side tracks. I'll layout an elaborate electric railway through my private office, out into the kids room, and ..." He broke off as she sternly wagged a finger under his nose.

"Matter?"

"I will not have any electric railroad train rattling and swaying thru my kitchen," she said in a stern voice with twinkles in her eyes.

He chuckled, guided her to a table in the coffee room, and looked out at the sheeted rain which lashed against the windows.

"Honey, we must honestly and seriously get along with this business of our next generation," he said, looking fondly at her. "Every time I see a kid in her mother's arm I start thinking how nice it would be to have baby girl with your cute looks pulling at my nose while I ... "

"Well, Mr. Tom Sinclair, you will first have to order something nice for this hungry girl," she said, smiling back happily at her husband. They had been holding back on the family front for some time till his security business had stabilized.

Nikki was tall, almost 5'8'', with blonde, wavy, shoulder length hair, blue, twinkling eyes, generous rosy lips, ripe, young breasts with fleshy hips tapering down to smooth, lovely, long legs.

She had met Tom in college where she was doing a course on journalism while he was pursuing a course in security and intelligence services. He had done a stint in the army and was now planning to set up a security agency.

She had been immediately attracted towards the six foot, dark hair; brown eyed, ex army man with soft, gentle manners. The square jaw and chiseled looks gave a glimpse into his strong, never say die nature. She was drawn to him like a magnet.

On graduating, Nikki moved in with Tom who had already passed out earlier, being senior to her. She joined the local newspaper while Tom worked his ass off to firmly establish his agency.

A year later they married to set up their own home.

She picked up the menu. "Well, Mr. Sinclair, since you're buying the dinner, I'm going to make it my heavy meal."

I thought you were going on a diet," he said, with mock concern.

"I am," she admitted, "I am a hundred and twelve. I want to go back to a hundred and nine."

"Dry, whole wheat toast," he suggested, "and coffee without sugar, would ..."

"Hey look who is being stingy. It's not often that we get time out for an evening together. I know when I am getting the breaks; I'll have cream of tomato soup, avocado and grapefruit salad, a filet mignon, artichokes, and plum pudding with brandy sauce."

"There goes my profit from the last case," he said in a mock sorrowful tone.

Tom glanced up to see the waitress hovering at his elbow, he said firmly, "Two cream of tomato soups, two avocado and grapefruit salad, two filet mignons, medium rare and two plum puddings with brandy sauce."

"Tom!" Nikki exclaimed. "I was only kidding!"

"You should never kid at mealtime," he told her admonishingly.

"But I can't eat all that."

"This," he said, "is poetic justice." Then to the waitress, "Go ahead and start brining it on. Don't listen to any protests."

The waitress smiled and departed. Nikki said, "Now I suppose I'll have to live on bread and water for a week to keep from putting on weight ... Don't you like to watch people in a place like this Tom?"

He nodded his steady, tolerant eyes moving from table to table, appraising the occupants in swift scrutiny.

"Tell me, Tom," she said, "in your line of business you have seen human nature in the raw. You've seen people torn and twisted by emotions which have ripped aside all the hypocrisy and pretence of everyday life ... doesn't it make you frightfully cynical?"

"Quite the contrary," he said. "People have their strong points and their weak points. The true philosopher sees them as they are, and is never disappointed, because he doesn't expect too much. The cynic is one who starts with a false pattern and becomes disappointed because people don't conform to that pattern. Most of the little chiseling practices come from trying to cope with our economic conventions. When it comes right down to fundamentals, people are fairly dependable. The neighbor, who would cheat you out of a pound of sugar, would risk her life to save you from drowning."

Nikki thought that over, and then said, "There's a lot of difference in people. Look at that aggressive woman over there at the left, bullying the poor waitress ... and contrast her with that white haired woman who's standing over there by the window, the one who has such a benign, peaceful look. She's so placid, so homey, so ..."

Tom said, "As it so happens, that homely looking woman's a shop lifter."

"What!" she exclaimed.

"And," Tom went on, "the man, who's standing over there by the cashier's desk, apparently trying to cash a cheque, is a stores detective who's followed her in here."

"How do you know she's a shop lifter, Tom?" she asked wide eyed with interest.

"Notice the way she keeps her left arm rigidly at her side. She's holding something under that long coat. Notice the way the woman has turned her head; I believe she knows she's been followed."

"Will she sit down and start eating?" Nikki asked, her eyes now keenly observing the woman.

"Probably not, she must have quite a lot of stuff concealed under her coat. It would be difficult to eat without ... there she goes into the restroom."

"Now what?" Nikki asked.

"If she's wise she's been followed," Tom said, "she'll probably ditch the stuff in the restroom ... there's the store detective going over to talk with the attendant. They'll try to handle the things very quietly."

"I can't imagine her being a shoplifter," Nikki protested. "That white hair, the high forehead, the calm steady eyes, and the sensitive mouth ... it just isn't possible."

Tom said thoughtfully, "My experience has taught me that when a person with an honest face has stolen goods in his possession, the face is usually a mask, carefully cultivated as a stock in trade."

Their waitress brought them steaming fragrant soup. The lady attendant appeared in the door of the restroom and nodded briefly to the store detective. A moment later, the white haired woman emerged and walked directly to an adjoining table.

She was soon joined by a young woman, who going by the resemblance, was definitely a relative of the white haired woman.

"Oh there you are! I was worried about you."

"I lost you somewhere in the crowd, Ginny, so I decided I'd come up and have a cup of coffee. At my age, I've found it never pays to worry."

The store detective interposed his bulky figure between Tom's eyes and the face of the white haired woman. "I'm very sorry, Madam," he said, "but I'm going to have to ask you to step into the office."

Tom heard a quick gasp of consternation from the girl, but the woman's voice remained calmly placid. "I have no intention of stepping into the office, young man. I'm about to have dinner. If anyone in the office wishes to see me, he can come here."

"I'm trying," the detective said with dignity, "to avoid making a scene."

Nikki pushed back her soup, to watch with frank interest, as the detective stepped behind the woman's chair. She calmly broke off a piece of bread, buttered it, unhurriedly glanced up over the shoulder and said, "Don't try to avoid making a scene on my account, young man. Go right ahead."

"You're making it difficult for me," he said.

"Indeed," she muttered.

"Aunt Sarah," the girl pleaded, "don't you think ..."

"I'm placing you under arrest for shoplifting," the man said.

"Arrest?" she inquired, pausing with the buttered fragment of bread half way to her lips. What are you talking about?"

The woman chewed her bread calmly, nodding to herself as though mentally digesting the possibilities of the situation. "How very amusing," she said, picking up her glass of water.

The irritation in the detective's voice made it distinctly audible to persons sitting within a radius of three tables. "I've been following you," he charged, "watching you put things under your coat." And as the woman made as though to open her coat, he added quickly, Of course I know you haven't them now. You left them in the restroom." He turned and nodded to the lady attendant, who vanished thru the curtained doorway.

"I don't think," the woman said reminiscently, as though trying to recall an eventful past, "that I've ever been arrested in the past for shoplifting ... No, I'm quite certain I haven't."

"Aunty," the girl exclaimed, "The man's not joking, he's serious, he's ..." The attendant appeared from the restroom carrying an armful of clothes. There were silk stockings, bits of silk lingerie, a silk blouse, a scarf and a pair of lounging pajamas.

The girl opened her purse, pulled out her cheque book. "My aunt," she explained rapidly, "is rather eccentric. She does her shopping at times in an unusual manner. I'm afraid perhaps she's a little absent minded. If you'll kindly tell me the exact amount and will be so good as to have the purchases wrapped, I'll ..."

"I'll do nothing of that sort," the detective interrupted. "You can't get away with that stuff, and you know it. That's an old gag, pulled by every shoplifter in the country. When you get caught red handed with the goods, you're "shopping." We have another name for it. We call it 'stealing.'

"Madam" the detective exclaimed, placing a hand on her shoulder, "you're under arrest!"

Nikki looked pleadingly at her husband, her mouth forming the word 'no.'

Tom's chair scrapped back as he got to his feet, to tower above the chunky detective. His hand clapped down on the man's shoulder with explosive force. "Just ... a ... minute," he said. The detective whirled, his face dark with rage.

"You may be a detective," replied Tom, "but you know very little about law. In the first place, that's not the proper way to make an arrest. In the second place, you evidently don't have a warrant, nor has any crime been committed in your presence. In the third place, if you knew any law, you'd realize that you can't make a charge of shoplifting stick until a person attempts to remove the goods from the premises. Anyone can pick goods in a mall and carry them all over the place, and you can't do a thing about it until that person walks out to the sidewalk."

Nikki stared in awe at her husband as he methodically tore apart the detective's stand.

"Who the hell are you? An accomplice?"

Tom flashed him his security accreditations which showed that his agency was approved by the government as an A category investigating agency.

It was instantly apparent from the man's face that he recognized the accreditation for what it meant.

"What's more," Tom went on, "you're laying your shopping mall wide open to a damage suit. Try using force on this woman and you will be very much sadder and perhaps a wiser individual."

Nikki looked on with a look of girlish adornment written all over face. She had always known her husband was good, but this was fantastic. The detective was undecided. His eyes showed surly rage. Just then an excited assistant manager, who had evidently been summoned by the phone, bustled into the room.

"What's happening here Fred?" he asked.

The detective quickly briefed him in a hushed tone.

"And who the hell are you?" the manager demanded.

Tom handed him his card. The manager glanced at the card, and then his head jerked back and up, as though pulled with a string.

"Come down to the office, Fred'" he said, "I'm afraid you've made a mistake."

"I tell you there hasn't been any mistake," Fred said. "I've been following her ..."

"I said come down to the office."

He then looked towards the girl accompanying the white haired lady. "I'll have these purchases wrapped. Where shall we deliver them, Madam, or would you prefer to take them with you?"

"Just wrap them. We will take them from your office after I have signed a cheque for them," said the girl. She grabbed her aunt by her elbow and began to follow the manager to the office, throwing a grateful look to Tom as they passed by him.

"Do you think she was really a shoplifter?" asked Nikki as she pushed open the door of their house. The rain having stopped briefly, the two had decided to drive home at the earliest.

"Difficult to say, but the expression on the girl's face seemed genuine enough."

"Apart from that we really do not know anything more about them, so I suppose the benefit of doubt goes in favor of your gentle, old lady," he finished with a boyish smile.

Nikki gave him a playful punch as her husband took her in his arms and drew her close to himself. He placed both his arms around her waist and touched his forehead against her, as though gently swaying to the sound of music. Nikki smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head on his strong, muscular chest, taking in his strong masculine scent.

"May I have the pleasure of a dance?" whispered Tom, as they continued to sway, their bodies pressed together.

"Ummm ...," sighed Nikki as the pressure of his aroused manhood against her stomach began to ignite the all too familiar sensations in her body. Tom unbuttoned his wife's blouse and tossed it aside, then her skirt followed suit. The two were soon naked. Tom again took his naked wife in his arms and they began to sway to the tune of an imaginary tune.

"Ouch," said Nikki with a feigned tone of annoyance as her husband's manhood rubbed against her smooth skin, "Mr. Sinclair, I do suggest that we take a break from the dance floor till it's more convenient for you to escort a lady to the dance floor," she continued with a giggle, her musky womanly scent filling up the room.

Tom stopped and let go of his wife and looked down, "My dear lady you are indeed correct, so very inappropriate of me," he said with a chuckle.

Nikki stood smiling, looking adoringly at her husband, her eyes moving over his broad shoulders, tanned muscular chest and then to that lovely darling looking so wonderfully aroused and erect.

"Indeed Sir, could this lady be of any help to you," she asked with an impish grin.

Tom quickly bent and scooped up his naked wife in his strong muscular arms and began making way to their bedroom. "Now that you have mentioned my dear lady, I think your continued support and cooperation could indeed go a long way in alleviating this current form of inappropriateness this gentleman finds himself in," he said as he opened the bedroom door with a push of his broad shoulders and gently placed his wife on their bed. He lay on top of his wife, looking into her eyes, pushing away the strands of hair falling across her eyes. He pressed his lips on her soft, rosy lips, opening her mouth, letting his tongue tease her.

Nikki wrapped her slender arms across his back and pulled him closer to her, feeling his warmth. He began kissing her neck, moving downwards, giving full attention to her erect reddish brown nipples. His tongue rolled over her areolas leaving a trail of saliva, then moved downwards towards her sensitive belly button. She let out a low moan as her husband gave his full, undivided attention to her belly button. Her body was responding to her husband's foreplay, her nectar increasing in flow. By now she knew her clit would be forcing its way out of its protective hood, demanding attention and relief from his touch.

He rolled her over to her stomach and began playing his lips over her smooth back, kissing her, moving over her bare back in a fluid motion, his lips brushing against her hot body. Oh, he knew what he wanted as his trials of kisses went lower and lower. She gasped aloud as he husband's lip touched her most erotic zone, the lower back, just where her back connected up with her round and smooth buttocks.

This was his body ... and soul; he knew how to make love to her, to take her along with him in this sexual copulation.

"Aahhh ..," wailed Nikki as her orgasm hit her ... and he had not even penetrated her!

Tom rolled her back on her back. An unsaid message passed between the man and woman as the wife spread open her legs to welcome her mate. He rubbed her clit with his thumb, then bent down to kiss her wet pussy lips, his tongue giving her clit the much needed attention it sought. Then he positioned himself above her, gently guiding his erect manhood inside her warm, moist vagina. Tom leaned closer and gently kissed her neck, his hips continuing their strong, vigorous motions, making sure she reached her greatest peak. She responded with affection and warm delight, thrusting and grinding against her husband, his love firing her blood with uncivilized, wholly elemental hunger, sending a white hot intensity of sensation roaring thru her body.

The two perspiring bodies continued their copulation, the man expressing his undying love for his woman, the woman reciprocating the emotions by tightly wrapping her arms around her man, her legs invitingly open, her moist vagina receiving him deep inside her, lubricating him with her nectar, joining them together as one body and soul.

With a final thrust, Tom shot his load into his wife's womb and collapsed besides her. Neither said a word. Nikki turned over and rested her head on his chest, her breathing slowly returning to normal, listening to the sound of the rain hitting against the bedroom windows. It had begun to rain heavily again.

The silence was broken by the sound of the mobile. It was Tom's. He looked at the clock, "now who would be ringing at this late hour," he muttered. He looked at the number and his face became serious.

"Hello," he said.

The voice at the other end spoke briefly and then the mobile went dead.

"Anything wrong?" asked Nikki anxiously, covering her breasts with the bed sheet.

"That was Greta," he said absentmindedly, his brows pressed together, "said something about an Octopussy Necklace before her cell went dead."

"Octopussy Necklace?"