by Sweet, Izzy
“Fluffers? What the fuck kind of name is that? Three,” I ask mid-pick.
“It’s a cat name, and stop fucking counting, you psycho!” she shouts again and this time it’s further away.
“Two, and you probably don’t even know what that means!” I mutter loudly.
I’m actually fucking around with her. I was done at the end of three, I just haven’t done the full twist of the picks to pop the lock.
“I swear!” she shrieks, and I hear the slam of another door in the room.
Sounds like she went into the bathroom.
Popping the lock, I stand up and enter the room. It’s not exactly like I thought, but close enough. I saw some of it from my perch in the house I rented, but never got a full view like now.
I mean binocs and cameras only give you so much angle and depth.
It’s a typical young woman’s room that’s changed only a little over years. There are shades of her youth in here. Stuffed animals on the bed. Medals for things she did when she was young.
Walking over to the walk-in closet door, I open it up and peek inside. Yep, full of clothes, and it looks neat and orderly just like everything else in the room. Sophia likes neat and orderly, I guess. Even if she has terrible taste in shoes. Like I swear the girl has the ugliest collection of gym shoes I’ve ever seen in my life.
Moving out of the closet, I make my way over to the bathroom door and stand next to it. I look down at myself and grumble. I’m fucking soaked to the bone. What I wouldn’t give to be climbing into that shower with her just to warm up and feel her naked body next to mine.
“Any chance I can get in with you?” I ask loudly through the door.
“You really broke into my room?!” she squeals, and I’m really wishing I was in there.
But I bet she hasn’t even gotten naked yet.
“Yeah, I told you I would. You’re going to need to understand something, Sophia. If I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it,” I say.
“If you come in here, I’ll fucking stab you!” she screeches.
And I’ll let that go, I guess.
I know the house plans. This bathroom doesn’t have a window except for the one in the shower and it’s a very small one.
“I’ll give you that space, but did you check behind the shower curtain before you shut the door?” I ask as I pace around the room, looking at all the stuff she’s collected or obviously cares about.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asks.
“Your safety comes first and foremost,” I say when I finally give in and sit down on the chair at her desk.
“You can’t be with me at all times,” she says through the door.
“That’s true, but I can make sure you are safe when I’m not,” I say and grab the waste bin beside her desk.
Rifling through the small amount of paper trash, I look for anything of importance before setting it back down on the floor.
“I need to shower and get clean. I can’t do it with you out there. I need clothes,” she says, clearly frustrated.
“Come out and get clothes then. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before,” I say, and it’s a bald-face lie.
She’s got a body that I’ve been craving since I first met her.
My usual woman of choice isn’t like Sophia. Nothing about Sophia is my normal. I usually go for the waifish bad girl with dark hair and dark eyes.
Not the blondes who have some curves and a brain to go with them.
Sophia’s got this… magnetism to her.
Like I want to grab her hips from behind and see just how far I can force my thick cock deep inside of her kind of magnetism. I want to push myself up against her heavy breasts and kiss her sumptuous lips.
Sumptuous… I think that’s the best way to describe her body. It’s not thin, it’s not flat and boring. She’s got the right curves and body for those skinny jeans and leggings she loves to wear.
Fuck, she’s so damn hot and looks so damn right to me.
But it’s not only about looks with her.
I’ve seen how she interacts with those around her. I’ve seen her little mannerisms other’s might miss. She’s unfailingly kind. She opens doors for the elderly. She gets the newspaper for her neighbors if it’s been sitting outside too long. And she’s good to animals. I saw her swerve her car and almost hit a guardrail to avoid hitting a raccoon on the road.
She’s also fiercely loyal to those she cares about, and brilliant in her college studies. Like on Simon’s level of intelligence, and that’s fucking scary.
The thing that gets me the most about Sophia though is the way she attunes herself to those around her.
When I watch my brother and his wife, I see their ways of communicating without ever using their mouths. It’s like they have this ability to talk with just their eyes. Sometimes it’s just a small look to the other. A small look that speaks more than words ever could.
I want that with Sophia, and I know we’ll have it. I know it deep down somewhere inside of me. Just like I know when I finally get between her thighs, we’ll break each other over a thousand rocky shores.
The bathroom door opens a crack and Sophia peeks her head out. “Why are you just sitting there?”
“Because, until you’re done in there, I’m not leaving this room,” I say.
“I… I don’t even know what to say to that,” she says, clearly frustrated.
I shrug my shoulders at her. “Get some clothes and take them in with you. Take your shower, get dressed, and come back out.”
Nodding her head at each suggestion, I can see she’s wanting to fight me, but she’s exhausted and probably ready to crash at any moment.
Walking into the room, she quickly disappears inside her closet and reappears with what looks like leggings and a shirt.
Pausing in front of the dresser close to her bed, she looks over her shoulder at me. “This is really creepy.”
“Yeah, probably,” I agree, “but get it done.”
Digging through her dresser drawer, she pulls out a couple of things and quickly tucks them into her bundle of clothing.
I know I should be an adult about things, but I’m dying to get a glimpse of her panties. Just to know what she plans on wearing.
I’d dive through her lingerie drawer if I wasn’t soaking wet and trying to remain strong.
Racing back into the bathroom, she slams the door shut, and I can hear her lock the door.
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket right as I the shower turns on in the bathroom. Pulling it from my pocket, I press connect.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“While I think this has been a waste of resources, Uriel was able to pick up the trail of Morrison’s son. He’s been making a circuit around the house and street. It’s wide but he’s keeping tabs on you. Another cop car, an officer Dickers, has been patrolling as well,” Simon says.
“Give me a second,” I say.
Standing up from the chair, I bend over and tilt my head down toward the floor. I can see Sophia’s shadow under the seal of the door.
She’s listening.
Leaving the bedroom, I walk until I reach the stairs leading to the first floor before I ask, “What’s the situation with the Morrisons? And anything on Dickers?”
I’m somewhat aware of the Morrisons. I know the elder Morrison and Chief Cronin were friends. Dickers is an unknown to me. I used to know a bunch of the officers on the force, but I’ve been lax lately.
That’s probably because of my obsession with her. She’s taken over so much of my mind, I can’t remember where she ends and outside life begins.
“Dickers is a lifer who hasn’t seen a promotion since he became a training officer. From the internal memos, I can see he’s formed a small cadre of likeminded individuals within his precinct,” Simon says with an almost monotone voice.
He’s putting together files of information quickly in his mind.
“Let me guess, those he’s t
rained are either handpicked from the academy or were assigned to him from Morrison,” I say as the wheels in my mind begin to chug along with his.
“Yes, very astute observation. As of now, he’s a wild card. I don’t know why he’s patrolling around this neighborhood. He wasn’t assigned the area during roll call this morning,” Simon says.
“I bet if you look even closer, Spider, personal cellular calls will be radiating in a triangle around this neighborhood,” I say to him. “They’re going to be staying off official radio dispatches for whatever it is they’re doing.”
“You’re correct,” Simon says over his rapid typing on his keyboard. “I’ll start pulling records and see who comes up.”
“It’ll be officers he’s trained, not anyone above him,” I say. “And how loose are the patrols? That’ll tell us how long we have until we need to evac out.”
“I’ll get the information over to you as soon as I have it,” Simon says.
“Do they know my current location or home? That’s going to be a deciding factor. Also, I need…” I trail off, trying to think of who I can get to do a very delicate job. “Johnathan to go to my house and get Mitzy for me. I need her and a bag of clothing.”
“Is she still in the biting stage?” Simon asks with a dark chuckle.
“Only dudes she really doesn’t like. Or who smell like french fries,” I say with a smile.
“Excellent. Anything else?” Simon asks, sounding almost chipper.
Oh shit, Johnathan is so fucked. Good, fucker deserves it.
“Yeah, what are the chances of me getting a secure phone? I’m good on guns for the time being. I figure we’ll try to be out of here by tomorrow, tops. We’ll need a window to get out, even if I have to ditch my car to do it,” I say, trying to build an image in my mind of what the landscape around this neighborhood looks like.
“I’ll have the phone easily, the window as well,” Simon says, and I hear him still typing in the background, but now it sounds like a machine gun on full auto spray.
He’s onto something.
“Can I also get a laptop that’s top of the line with a direct line to you? I’d like to see if I can put together any strings I get from Sophia. Also, any info you get, you can dump directly down the line to me,” I say.
“That should be easy enough. Although I’ll have to run a couple of filters to ensure it’s all put into some sort of order. I plan on doing a complete hack of all the department files,” he says.
“Any chance you can send it both ways? Not sorted and sorted?” I ask.
“Of course, but why?” he asks, the typing stopping.
“Because sorting could compromise the true nature of how things got passed around. Also, it might show us a pattern that wasn’t meant to have one,” I say.
“Chaos theory,” Simon says.
“Exactly. Who’s to say that random reports of excessive use of force filed in different years don’t have a basis to be something else?” I say.
“Why, James, do I have to worry about you taking over my job? That’s quite a brilliant thought,” Simon says, intrigued.
Chuckling, I say, “Fuck no, Spider. I’d kill myself if I sat and stared at computers all day.”
“Good, it will save me from having to poison you.” Simon laughs to himself. “I’ll have your requested items soon.”
“Sounds good. Let me know if any more strings get connected,” I say,
“I will, and James?” Simons says with what sounds like a smile.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Thank you,” he says before he disconnects the call.
Heading back to the bedroom to wait for Sophia, I can’t help but laugh. “Johnathan is so fucked.”
5
James
Sitting at Sophia’s desk, I try to see in my mind the way things are connecting so I can put together a picture of how the fuck we got in this exact position.
In the middle right now is Chief Cronin, and I need to figure out who he was connected to besides us. Somewhere there are strings I’m missing being added, and somehow, I feel like Morrison is in the picture more than we thought.
Morrison, his son Trent, and Dickers.
Those three are in the diagram, and so are any who are connected to them.
I bet Trent was trained by Dickers.
I’d love to get my hands on the reports about them all. See what has been said, and if they’ve had complaints of any sort. Simon is more than likely going to download every single file in the department and surrounding precincts. That, I think, will give us a better picture of the current landscape.
But it doesn’t, as of right now, answer why the Chief was needlessly killed.
It could have truly been an accident, but I don’t think it was.
While my brain turns over the facts of what we do and don’t know, I hear a quiet sob through the wall, above the sound of running of water.
Sophia.
I know she’s been holding on as strong as she can, but she’s finally at that point. The one that says things will never be right again. The one that hurts the least and the most at the same time.
Because her thoughts are right, nothing will ever be like it was again.
The water doesn’t stop though, it keeps running and running. I know this house has a huge water heater from the files I could pull up, but that doesn’t mean it’s endless.
Going to the door, I don’t even ask her for permission to enter. I just squat down and pick the lock as if it’s not even there. Locks have always been like that for me, mechanical and easy to understand.
Humans are trickier.
If I could pick the lock to let myself into her mind and help assuage her in some way, I would. But I have no clue how to do that stuff.
I’m a fuckboy, honestly.
I’m the guy who fucks someone’s world to hell then disappears.
I find her curled into a ball, pressed up against the glass wall of the walk-in shower. Curled so tight she’s almost like a small, helpless child.
Fucking demons below, help me.
Reaching up, I tug my tie loose enough to pull over my head then just grab my dress shirt with both hands and rip it apart. Buttons fly across the bathroom. Some even strike the glass door, but the little pinging sounds don’t break through to her as she slowly collapses into herself.
It’s honestly not like my wet shirt would make any difference to her right now, but I once read something about tummy time with dads and babies.
I don’t even remember where it was or why I was reading it, but whatever I read said the closest way to bond is through skin-to-skin contact. Because of the intimacy of being vulnerable or something.
Kicking my dress shoes off, I carefully open the door so I don’t startle her. Not that I would with how sucked into her emotions she is. She’s so pulled into her own being, she probably wouldn’t notice an atomic bomb going off beyond the thought of it being a relief.
Grief is fucked up like that.
Stepping into the cold water, I slowly shut it off. I don’t want her scared of me. I don’t want her fearing me even more for intruding.
Kneeling down to her side, I wait a moment before figuring the direct approach will be the best. Taking her by the shoulders with as much gentle force as I can muster, I carefully and slowly unwrap her body from its ball.
Pulling her up to me, I guide one leg then the other across my lap.
Without warning, she buries her head into my shoulder and her naked chest pushes against mine.
Scooting up against the cold wall of the shower, I try to will the heat and warmth of my body to flee me and flow into her.
I think of every day I spent in the sands of faraway countries. The bullets whizzing all around me. I think of my early youth spent in the swamps and marshes of Louisiana, and how the heat just seemed to permeate every inch of the world around me.
Time loses all meaning as we sit, holding onto each other.
And fuck, does she hold
me.
I feel like she’s trying to keep her body from spinning off the face of the Earth as it rotates us around the sun.
When the heaving of her body finally lessens to small, quiet shudders, I’m pretty sure she’s about cried herself out.
Standing us up from the floor, I help her gain her balance, and fuck…
I don’t even see the ghost of the woman I want as mine in those broken eyes. The shell before me is in need of nurture and care.
Not the stupid fumbling mind and fingers I have to offer.
Reaching behind me, I turn the hot water back on and try not to let it show on my face how fucking stupid I am for not getting some cold started first.
Dumbass.
Turning around, I set the cold just right and will my mind to blank. This is truly the first time I’ve ever seen Sophia naked and bared to the world…
And I don’t feel a single ounce of the all-consuming desire that has been building up inside me for months.
Showers with a woman like Sophia almost feel like a sin without any sexy time, but neither one of us is any shape for something like that. Each caress of the feminine shape of her body just feels as if I’m taking care of her in a way I couldn’t do with words.
With how fast I feel the hot water turning cold, I know I don’t have the time to do anything but give her the kind of shower I did in the Marines. Hair, pits, tits, and ass.
No hanky-panky or scrubbing down.
Thankfully though the warmth lasts long enough for me to finish her up.
Guiding her from the shower, I find the towels she sat out and wrap her up in them. Having no clue how to do one of those hair things women do with towels, I dry her hair the best I can.
Her body and face do nothing but stand in front of me, staring at me, as I methodically dry her off. Up one leg, down the other. Pat dry the middle and make sure her glorious breasts are in tip-top shape…
Fuck, I shouldn’t be thinking of those.
Her clothes come next and to hell with bothering with a bra. I’m counting myself lucky just getting panties and leggings on her.
Guiding her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, I try to lead her to the bed so I can get her tucked in, but she doesn’t want to be led that way.