Dream a Little Dream of Me.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Haubrich

E3 Beauty. by G2 Pics @ FlickrDamn it. I wasn’t supposed to be working interrogations this week.

I was risking blowing three years of work on the force, not to mention my life, but I didn’t have any choice. This case was too important to not push my way onto it.

I had just pulled the waistband of the mini up over my hips when Becky stepped around the long row of lockers. I was still deciding how I was going to explain my insistence on taking the case, and hadn’t worked out the details yet. I opted to distract her, to give me more time to think.

“I love those heels, Janie. When you bend over to put them on, it really does something for me.”

Yeah, I knew that. That’s why I did it. “You do?” Upside down, I batted my eyes at her from around my thighs, my voice dripping with playfully faux innocence. Becky might have been my boss, but she was putty in my hands. I strapped on the second shoe, and set my feet as wide as the skirt would allow.

“I think you might need to check to make sure I’m ready for duty, Captain.”

Becky smiled broadly, and stepped up close behind me. She reached up under my skirt and grabbed me roughly, dragging her fingers hard over my thong. Pulling it aside, she plunged two fingers inside and reached for the back of my head, yanking me halfway upright by my long auburn locks. After working her fingers around a moment, she pulled me upright and extracted her fingers. I let her spin me around to bring us nose to nose as she tasted her fingers, sucking one completely clean before offering me the second.

Staring straight into her eyes, I remained silent while I waited for her appraisal.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re ready, I could smell it from three feet away, you horny bitch. Our friend Mr. Haubrich won’t stand a chance against you with all that musk in the air.”

I smiled in spite of myself. Bedding Becky was definitely one of the better perks to this job. It was a shame we had to hide like this.

“It’s my job, Captain.  And I’m good at it.”

She kissed me forcefully, then untangled her other hand from my hair. “Yes, you are. You’re the best. I only sleep with the best, Detective McKnight.”

The door to the locker room squealed in protest just then, giving us just enough time to separate and pretend to a modicum of professional decorum.

“Good job catching the case before it slipped through the cracks, Detective,” Becky intoned in her Captain’s voice. “This one almost got through, and I have a hunch he’s a pretty big fish. Good instincts.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode briskly down the aisle between the lockers and out of the locker room. I finished strapping on my backup and adjusted my skirt. As I began to follow her out on my way to the interrogation rooms, Vasquez came around the end of the lockers, blocking my path. Fuck. I didn’t have time for this shit. That fucker was going to get me killed if I didn’t do something about him soon.

“I hear you stole my fish, McKnight.”

“Fuck you, Vasquez. You dropped the ball, dipshit. I’m just cleaning up your mistake.” I tried to push past him, but he pushed me back up against the lockers.

“Must be nice to be fucking the boss. I wonder what the Party would think of its rising star Detective if it became public that you were a disgusting little dyke.”

Fuck. We both knew very well what would happen. I’d be locked up, probably tortured and executed in some public square in Bumfuck Texas somewhere. I’d be a star alright – on the Party’s propaganda network, Fox News Channel. That couldn’t happen. Not just for me, but for a whole lot of people that were depending on me to do my job.

He really left me no choice. I feinted a knee to his groin, and as predictably as the sun rising, he jumped back hips first, exposing his face for the heel of my palm. I didn’t have the leverage or momentum from that position against the lockers to do the job thoroughly, so I had to snap his neck. I hate the sound of that. It makes my skin crawl. Even in death he was a major irritant to me.

As I passed by the attendant’s desk just outside the locker room door, I informed him that he would need some help disposing of the big pile of shit I had left behind on the tiled floor. “He tried to take something that didn’t belong to him. I’ll file a report later,” was all the explanation I gave. The attendant wouldn’t be overly upset at Vasquez’ sudden demise. Vasquez was a pig, and I doubted he’d have many mourners on the force, if any.

My heels clicked through the halls crisply as I made my way to interrogation room one. I paused at the door, and took a deep breath to collect myself before reaching for the knob. Man, you really screwed the pooch this time. Why don’t you ever fucking do what you’re supposed to? Becky was watching from a few feet away, ready to observe from behind the one-way glass. I checked to make sure my badge was properly nestled in my cleavage for full effect, decided to loose one more button on my blouse, exposing my lack of bra a little better, and double checked the snap on my shoulder holster.

With one last glance at my boss, and a covert wink, I pulled the thick file from the basket mounted on the door, and entered the interrogation room.

The prisoner’s head snapped up at my entrance, and I could see that he was fighting for control of his anger and frustration.

I studiously ignored the burning ire in his eyes, and walked over to the table, silent, all business. With my back to the glass, I dropped his folder on the table as I reached it, pushing the chair there for me aside and well out of my way. I opened the folder and made a show of reading the first page in the pile of paper inside. His photo was a typically unflattering mugshot. He looked like hell.

Scanning the page as though I’d never seen it, I made a few thoughtful sounds, raised my eyebrows once for effect, and whistled once before biting my lip. “I see it’s your birthday!” I murmured, bemused. “Happy birthday, Mr. Haubrich.” I decided to start withe ‘Friendly Cop’ approach.

“Thanks a lot. It’s been special,” he mumbled sarcastically.

I took my time getting around to raising my eyes to him. He looked kind of silly trying to read the file upside down without being obvious about it. I let out a chuckle and spun the folder around, pushing it over to him. Ordinarily, that was a big no-no, but Becky granted me a lot of leeway. I was a pro, and she loved to watch me work.

I gave him a moment. He got to the end of the page and began to reach up to turn the page. His hand stopped in mid air, and he looked up with questioning eyes at me.

“Sure Mr. Haubrich. Let’s take a look at what else is in there.”

Under the top sheet was a series of glossy prints. They began with long lens shots of him at the protest, holding signs, arguing with police, plain clothes Secret Service agents escorting him away, the stuff you’d expect. Then all at once the photos took a different turn.

These images were obviously from planted cameras in his home. There he was, in bed with a very hot raven-haired woman. She was built for fucking, and in still after still, he was laying the wood to her like a champion stallion. I wasn’t ready to let him know how much the photos were turning me on, and it was all I could do to not knock him down and test his prowess right then and there. I idly wondered if he would fuck me as well as he was fucking the woman in the photos.

There were no pictures of her face, however. The only identifying mark on her was a small tattoo of a sword in an anvil that she had on her left breast.

“Nice, Mr. Haubrich. Who is she?”

He was flushed, but fascinated. Probably had a huge hard on, just like the one in the photos. I couldn’t tell from my vantage point.

“Nobody. Just some girl.”

“Aw, c’mon! I won’t tell. What’s her first name? You weren’t just fucking ‘Nobody’ like that for six weeks.” He slammed the folder shut and stared at me hatefully. I changed to a more threatening tone. “It’s Ok, Mr. Haubrich. We know who she is. She’s the head of the ACLU cell here in St. Paul, isn’t she? We just don’t know her name.” It was a deliberate lie. The force had no idea who she was, only that she was an important part of the resistance movement to overthrow the Party of God, which had finally taken control of the country by force several years earlier. She was ubiquitous, showing up here and there, always eluding photos of her face, always disappearing like the wind right after trouble. The Party wanted her almost as badly as they wanted Myers or Laden or the Zvans. They were the leaders of the resistance, but she was the facilitator. She made it happen.

“She’s just some co-ed. Her name’s Beth something. I don’t know her last name.”

He wasn’t lying, I knew. I was good at reading people, and I was pretty sure that wasn’t her real name anyway. Well, that was an exercise in uselessness. I was just curious how much he’d tell.

“Ok, Beth. So, was Beth with you today when you were prancing around downtown, subverting the government?”

I knew she had been there.

“No.” Another truthful statement. He had no idea she was also there. “She went home for the weekend. East coast somewhere. South Carolina, I think.” His first lie. He knew damned well she wasn’t from South Carolina. I let it slide for the moment.

I checked my watch. Damn. “So what do you people hope to accomplish, Mr. Haubrich? You know you can’t bring back the corrupt Republic, don’t you? Why do you even want to?” I needed to pick up the pace, to get things done. I was under the gun, Becky watching intently, and I was running out of time in a hurry.

“We want our country back.” He was so intent on being defiant that he never saw it coming. His head jerked hard to the right and he nearly wound up on the floor. By the time he straightened up, I was leaning way over the table, hands planted firmly in front of him, my face a foot away from the angry red hand-print on his cheek. Becky would not be watching him right now. I wiggled my ass at her subtly.

I flicked my eyes downward, and his were drawn to my blouse hanging loosely open in front of him. His eyes were confused for a moment, and then registered understanding. Then shock.

He drug his eyes from the tattoo on my left breast, and brought them back to my own.

“Mike,” I whispered. “Get down.”

I got over the table and had it on its side facing the glass mirror just as the first explosion went off. I was deaf from the concussion, but we didn’t have time to hang around. We had a government to overthrow. I kissed him hard, handed him my backup weapon, and we began shooting our way out to Grove St.

From whence came the art:

That image is titled E3 Beauty. by G2 Pics, and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.0 license.

Filed under: Blogs In Our MonkeySphere, Erotica, Friends, Literature, Literature and Literotica, Sex, , ,

7 Responses

  1. Stephanie Z says:

    Aw. I get invited to the best birthday parties.

  2. Mike says:

    Oh, Janie, only you could turn this Dom into a sub. Thanks for the great story.



  3. JanieBelle says:

    It just wouldn’t be the same without you, Stef.

    Happy Birthday, Mike, I’m glad you liked it. But come my birthday, you can thank me from your knees. 😉

    Kisses to you both.

  4. Rystefn says:

    I see how it is… No sexy story for the Rystefn’s birthday, huh? That’s fine. No pics of the Rystefn’s birthday for Janie. 😛

  5. JanieBelle says:

    Rystefn, I didn’t know about your birthday until that day, or you’d have had one hell of a story.


    (I do think I should correct that deficiency, though. Hold tight, The Boy‘s been hogging the computer for school work.)


  6. Molly says:

    Hey, here’s fair warning: my birthday is in December – middle of the month, I’m not particular about the day – and I think I need a story too!

    Pretty please? *batting of eyelashes*


  7. Rystefn says:

    OK, a Hell of a story would mollify me.

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