by Nella Tyler
“And, how do you know that I’m not on the list?”
“If you are, there’s got to be something we can do to get you priority treatment. You’re a doctor, after all, and you work for the New York City Police Department. That’s got to count for something.”
“We are all the same in God’s eyes,” he told her, his voice breaking.
Gilda stood there and was thoughtful, noting the way he was bent forward over his desk as he had been so many days before.
He had done a lot of good things for people, things few people knew about. She had seen him take care of young women who had nowhere to go when they were heavy with child and still walking the streets. She had seen him shove money into the pockets of alcoholics who lay in the staircase descending from the street level next to the precinct. She knew that each Christmas he gave the fire chief a fat check, intended to feed families who would otherwise have no Christmas. He was a good man, and this wasn’t fair.
“No, with all respect, sir, there are some of you whom God will smile upon.”
She turned away before he could spot her tears and went back to her desk. A patient came in then, and it was business as usual.
Cole telephoned on his break to make sure that everything was going smoothly. “Have you talked to Mrs. Crutcher?”
“Yes, several times. Everything’s going smoothly. Cole, you should see how excited she is. She’s never had anything nearly as nice as that kitchen, and she absolutely adores it. She made me promise not to tell you, but she has a fabulous dinner planned for us tonight. I don’t know how she’s going to take this once we move back to her place, but at least you given her a golden period to always remember.”
“What makes you think she’s moving back to her place?”
She stuttered, “Well… Of course we are. We can’t stay with you forever.”
He was silent and she could hear men’s voices and tromping boots in the background. “Look, I’ve got to go now. We’ll talk about this later, okay?”
“Sure. But, Cole, remember the rule. I have to do this my way.”
“Has anyone told you just how stubborn you are, woman?” With that the line went dead, and Gilda smiled as she lay down the phone. As a matter of fact, she had been told quite often how stubborn she was, but never by anyone she cared about.
* * *
Mrs. Crutcher delivered on her promise that evening. It was decided that they would eat their meals in the tenth floor apartment, except for when Cole and Gilda wanted privacy. In this way, Carson’s life would be as uninterrupted as possible and Mrs. Crutcher could operate from home base.
She had set a beautiful table, and its centerpiece was a golden-brown turkey. Served in family-style bowls, there were abundant amounts of mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry salad, fresh green beans, homemade dinner rolls, and the crowning glory was a French apple pie she had baked herself that afternoon. Cole had smelled it the moment he walked in and was hoping to find it on the menu.
Carson took his place in a side chair and rambled on in his child’s voice and enthusiasm about all of the toys and all of the television shows he had watched that day. Gilda listened, a smile lighting up her face as she recognized Carson’s happiness. At one point she looked up and saw Cole watching her; she took a moment to tap her heart and blow him a kiss.
Cole wasn’t entirely certain what that meant, but it didn’t matter because the sentiment was certainly evident and pleased him. Dinner was finished, and they moved on to the living room to enjoy a cup of coffee and watch Carson at play.
“So, training is just about wrapped up, right?” Gilda asked Cole.
He nodded. “Yes, I’m finished by the end of the week.”
“And, will there be some sort of graduation we can attend?” He noticed her faced was bright with excitement and what he hoped was pride.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, they have a small ceremony at headquarters. I’d love it if you could be there.”
“Of course,” she assured him. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Gilda tucked Carson into bed after his bath and bid Mrs. Crutcher good night. She and Cole went upstairs, where Gilda pulled out her laptop, curling up on their bed to get some studying done before she went to sleep.
Cole lay beneath the covers, watching her as she worked. She noticed and asked, “Is this bothering you? Why don’t I go into the living room and let you sleep?”
“No, it’s okay. Gilda, we have to talk.”
“Okay, what is it?” She set aside her laptop to give him her full attention.
“Things are going to be changing around here soon; I guess I don’t need to tell you that. Once I’m done on Friday, I’ll be going on duty, working a regular shift. I’m guessing they’re going to put me on nights, since that’s where they stick the new guys. I’ll have a partner who has been around for a while, and it will be his job to teach me the ropes that you can only learn on the streets.”
Gilda nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that’s the way it works. You sound different, though. Why is that?”
“Well, I won’t lie to you, things have changed dramatically as of late.” He sat up, the covers falling away from his broad chest and for a moment, Gilda lost track of what he was saying. She knew the sensation of that chest against her own nipples, and they grew hard at the memory.
She cleared her throat. “You were saying?”
He noticed her eyes, as well as the protruding nipples that had hardened beneath her sleep shirt. He felt himself harden at the view of her and moved his hand closer toward her. As he spoke, his finger slid into the pathway between her thighs.
“I think we have things pretty well set up here to keep you and Carson safe. Mrs. Crutcher, while she seems a very nice lady, is really just here to keep you company and to watch over Carson.
“The one I’m concerned about is you. I know you don’t like the idea of depending on me, and I know that it’s even one of your rules.” His hand crept inward further, his fingertip beginning to pet the silk crotch of her panties.
Gilda thought she would melt right where she sat. Flames of desire shot through her, and she couldn’t help but part her legs a little wider. “You were saying?” she asked, trying desperately to focus on his words.
Cole seemed equally distracted. “So, you see, I was hoping we might discuss just that one rule.” His finger pushed aside the silk fabric and lightly penetrated her pussy. Gilda’s head tipped backward and her eyes closed with the sensations.
“What about the rule?” she whispered softly, slipping her laptop into the space between the bed and the nightstand. She leaned back into the pillows, her hands moving upward to caress her nipples. Her mouth opened as tiny gasps of pleasure flowed through her.
“A cop’s job is dangerous; I don’t have to tell you that. There’s a very good chance that I could get injured at some point in my career, if not worse. They say cops who have families tend to be more cautious. It’s like they have more to live for.” He was stroking her vaginal lips openly now, and she groaned softly under her breath as the tissues blossomed and opened wider for him.
Cole was rock hard by this point. With one smooth move, he pulled his lounge pants downward and kicked them onto the floor. Rolling onto his stomach, he crept toward Gilda, pushing her legs apart as his face slid into the channel between her thighs. He reached forward, taking hold of the fragile silk of her panties and with one strong tug, he tore them from her. Gilda gasped, inflamed with the wanting of him.
He looked toward her and saw her woman’s lips beckoning to him. He crept closer, nuzzling the fine hairs that covered her pussy and inhaling her scent deeply.
With his hands, he pushed her thighs far apart and moved forward until his face was buried entirely within her. His tongue snaked forward, caressing the tender flesh with rapid, flexible darts, intended to bring her close to orgasm. He was very skilled, and she was equally inviting; the result soon became apparent as she raised her hips to invite him insid
e.
Cole got to his knees and bent low to blow soft bubbles of air into the moisture that now glistened on her clit. The effect for Gilda was a vibration that almost sent her into unconsciousness.
At the same time, his fingers moved upward, unbuttoning the nightshirt and laying open her beautiful breasts to his view. He thought he would explode with desire at the side of her. Never in his life had he felt so powerful and yet humble at the same time. There was that moment of doubt when he wondered how he had found her, much less deserved her.
Gilda was arching her body, seeking his member. He wasted no more time, but slid himself into her depths. A cry of relief issued from deep in her throat as he began the slow, even rhythm men and women had shared since time began.
To his immense surprise, Gilda suddenly shoved him off, using both hands to propel him onto his back. He caught sight of a wicked look in her eye as she rolled atop him, her hand stroking his penis with a whimsical and yet inflaming touch.
She swung one leg over his thighs and straddled him, lifting herself until she could be seated upon his rigid cock. “Give me your hands,” she rasped, and he held them out toward her. “Now, watch as I take you in,” she ordered in a most uncharacteristic voice, one that came from another place in her brain.
She placed each of her palms onto his and used the leverage to rise with an almost ballerina precision and then lower herself down around him. Cole drew in his breath at her artistry and the anticipation he felt. As he watched, she performed a sort of dance upon him. Her head cocked to one side and then rolled down onto her chest and to the other shoulder. As she did so, her torso twisted upon him.
Cole wanted to grab her waist and hold her still; the sensations were almost too intense to be borne. But she held tightly to his hands, and thus, he became her prisoner. Her choreography continued as she raised first one leg and then pivoted so that he had the full view of her jewel box, mounted upon himself. His breath became ragged and eventually, he could stand it no more.
His hands closed upon her, and he pulled her into the air, catching her waist and twisting her like a trapeze artist until she lay once again beneath him. Cole found his home as he drove into her, hard and with the intensity that she had built into his head. She possessed him; she owned him…but she was his.
Chapter 26
Cole’s side of the bed was empty when her alarm awakened her at seven the next morning. She showered and dressed quickly, grabbing her laptop so that she could catch up on her studies during lunch.
The car was waiting, as always, and she was soon at work. Dr. Keeler hadn’t arrived yet and so she busied herself with filing and confirming appointments. Eventually, lunch came and still, Dr. Keeler was not in. She was concerned and tried his home number, but he did not answer.
She locked the unit door and went to the front desk to talk to the officer on duty. She explained the situation, and he nodded, motioning to an officer and muttering some quick words into his ear.
“He’s going to go check on the Doc,” he assured her. Gilda hugged herself in concern and headed back toward the unit.
Cole called on his break, and she explained what was going on. He expressed his concerns and at the same time told her there was news.
“What’s that?”
“They found Scott.”
“They did? Why didn’t anyone tell me? I took out a PPO on him.”
“It’s not a matter of routine for them to contact interested parties. He was sleeping in a homeless shelter on 34th Street — well, not exactly sleeping.
“Turns out he smuggled in some booze, got drunk, and tried to join a woman on her cot. The cops were called, and they recognized him and brought him in. He’s not carrying any identification, just a backpack of some stuff. They’re bringing him downtown to the lockup.”
“So, what do I do?” Gilda was concerned.
“Not a damned thing, do you hear me, sweetheart? Scott is not your husband and even though it was your place he vandalized, it’s between him and the prosecutor’s office. It was considered a breaking and entering because you maintained separate entrances from that of the building overall.
“Unless he’s got a pocketful of money, I doubt he’ll make bail, especially since he doesn’t have a residence in the state. They’ll keep him until the trial most likely.”
“How long will that be? Will I have time to move back and clean things up at the apartment first?”
“I know we got sidetracked last night, but tonight we’re going to talk about that. Just go about your day as normal, and I’ll see you at home. I gotta go now, sweetheart,” he said quickly and disconnected.
Gilda was left holding the phone as wild thoughts and fear began swirling through her pre-programmed brain.
* * *
Cole had beaten her back to the apartment that evening, and she found him sitting with Carson on the sofa watching cartoons. He had already informed Mrs. Crutcher about Scott’s arrest and they were both attempting to maintain normalcy for Carson’s sake.
Gilda, however, was jumpy. She wanted to talk to Cole at length. They had so much to discuss.
Mrs. Crutcher had made beef tips with homemade buttered noodles for dinner. She had also baked a huge mocha torte. It was decorated with shavings of chocolate and swirls of whipped cream with a coffee nut in the center of each. It was quite a work of art, and Gilda pointed out that perhaps she had missed her calling in life, to which Mrs. Crutcher smiled and flushed.
It was finally time for Carson’s bath and bedtime. Cole mentioned he was going up stairs and would see Gilda shortly. Gilda hurried Carson through his bath and gave him two extra hugs as she tucked them in. “Dream of angels and butterflies, my sweet,” she told him as she kissed him on the forehead.
Once upstairs, Gilda called for Cole. He emerged from their bedroom, wearing his lounge pants and a T-shirt. Again, she marveled at the strength and agility of his body as he walked.
“Can we talk?” she asked him and nodded over her shoulder toward the living room sofa.
“Just been waiting for you, sweetheart. Did you get Carson to bed okay?”
“Yes, I just tucked him in. Sometimes I am amazed at my own ability to act; I won’t lie to you, Cole, my insides are just a jumbled up mess.”
“Aww, now, don’t let it get to you. We’ll talk about things and figure out our plan. Come on, let’s sit down.” He pulled her by the hand over to the sofa and sat down, pulling her down to sit on his lap. She turned sideways and placed her head against his chest; his heart beating seemed to restore her own sense of calm rhythm.
“Okay, you go first. What about the doc?”
“He’s in trouble, Cole. The officers went over to his place and knocked on his door. They could hear him moving around, but he didn’t answer right away. I’m guessing he knew they would be coming and was just being a little belligerent.
“He finally opened the door and told them to go away, that he had the stomach flu. He’s in real trouble, Cole. I can tell by the look of his eyes; they’re not white like they should be.”
“Is he a drinker?” Cole asked, wrapping his arm around her and shifting his position. He was now lying back against the arm of the sofa as she continued to lie against his chest.
“I don’t think so. Of course, I have no idea what he does when he’s at home, but he’s never come into the office smelling like alcohol or looking compromised.”
He had begun to stroke her nipple through the cotton fabric of her blouse, making it difficult for her to think straight; she realized that this was his calculated method of keeping her calm as they were preparing to talk about Scott.
“So, give the guy some space,” he said. “Maybe he is in a bad way, maybe not. Either way, it won’t help to worry about him. He knows he can count on you.”
“Well, to tell you the guilty truth, Cole, I have been working toward getting my nursing degree because I know he will retire someday in the not-too-distant future. The department isn’t required to
have a doctor on hand; a registered nurse is all they need. I guess you can see where my mind is going.”
“Yes,” he laughed, “for once I can see where your mind is going.
“Actually, it’s good thinking. The department would rather have someone in the unit who knows the guys and the routine. It would be hard to bring an outsider in. How long before you think you could finish nursing school?”
“I’ve only got a few more weeks of the online work. Then, I’ll need to do night classes to get the lab work done. At the outside, I think I could have my degree in about six months.”
Cole nodded, scratching his lips in approval. “Good job, sweetheart. You sure are a go-getter.”
“I have to take care of Carson and myself, don’t you see?”
“Yeah, well, I’m sort of moving in that direction.” Cole continued to stroke her nipples, unbuttoning her blouse to be able to move his hand further down. Gilda closed her eyes, letting her head fall limply against his chest as she enjoyed the soothing experience.
“We’re not sure what the judge is going to do with the bastard. The jails are overcrowded as it is, and he might not think it worth the space to throw Scott in there,” Cole said.
“After all, he didn’t hurt anyone; all he did was mess up your apartment, granted he did leave in one helluva mess. I hate to say it, but the judge sees a lot worse than that all day long.”
“So where does that leave me?” She was listening to Cole’s voice directly through his chest; it was deep and reassuring, and she snuggled tighter.
He continued to unbutton her blouse, laying it open. His arms wrapped around her and his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking the nipples simultaneously. Gilda twisted slightly so that she lay flat against him, wanting the sensation to never end.
“Well, this is entirely up to you, but only because I promise to follow your rules. So, in keeping with that, I’m going to give you some options.