by Havok, Rayne
Our order is delivered and we drink up, watching the dancers as they take their turns on the stage. Sitting silent, for the most part, the loud music making it hard to talk even if we wanted to, as the entertainment reaches amazing levels.
Blondie comes back and asks if we want some food. We order, and then eat when it arrives, it’s bar food so mostly grease, but it’s actually really good. Overall, this place is definitely something to come back to.
Two more rounds of drinks and Tula is finally introduced by the man playing the music tonight. “Your queen is on folks, welcome Tula.”
Unlike the other intros of the night, no one claps, everyone in the room stops and focuses on the stage. The music turns into something hypnotic, and after the first glimpse of her, I can’t tell you what happens around me, my eyes are locked on her.
To my surprise, she’s out of the lusty red leather, which anyone who has seen her in it would think it to be a mistake, but it’s not. She’s now in a shear white teddy and nothing else. Her dark nipples, and a tattoo snaking around her mid-section, seemingly put there by the gods, are easy to see through the delicate mesh that falls just below her ass and dances across her body like a cool evening breeze as she starts her show.
The base begins to pound harder and her hands remove the delicate fabric from her skin. My breath loges in my throat, heart hammering with the beat, as it pounds in rhythm to her actions.
The absolute perfection of her nakedness is almost too much, the tattoo is a thorny vine of red roses wrapping around her, contouring perfectly along her pale curves. Not another spot or blemish marring her flawless flesh.
The music seems to be made for her, everything she does, every move that’s made, has the beat dragging me inside her show.
She’s dancing for a room full of people all equally entranced by her, and yet, it feels like it’s all for me. She is utterly consuming.
Simultaneously, the stage light goes dark and the music stops before I’m ready for this all to end. The florescent bulbs flicker on around the room, yanking me from bliss. I feel an overwhelming need to sit here another minute to recover, but the crowd around me begins to stand and head for the exit so I know its expected of me as well.
I drag myself up from the chair regretfully, I’d do anything to avoid leaving here.
Once outside, I light a cigarette, taking a deep drag, and then another when it isn’t enough to help me out of my muddled euphoria.
“Fuck, Josh, you really know how to throw a bachelor party.” The rest of the guys start babbling about what we’ve just experienced, how ‘this was the best thing ever’ and other bullshit. I can’t interact, my mind is still back there with Tula on stage.
We head for our respective vehicles and say our goodbyes. Confirming the story for the women awaiting back at their homes.
Unable to actually make myself start the car, I watch the others leave one at a time until I’m the last in the lot just staring at the building. The side door pops open and I see someone emerge, it feels like a fucking dream. I know it’s her by the way she moves, confirmation comes when she passes under a street lamp.
“Tula,” her name is out of my mouth as I fumble to exit the car, locking it only after I realize this isn’t the safest place to leave an Audi unsecure.
She turns, but doesn’t stop walking until I get close enough for her to see it’s me.
She looks so out of place in the real world, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, things that should blend her in, somehow amplifying her perfection. Her hair pulled high on her head in some kind of sloppy mess, not detracting at all from the beauty of her that really shouldn’t exist.
“Josh?” she says my name and I can swear, it’s followed by a hint of a smile.
Is she happy to see me?
Maybe.
I fucking hope.
“You headed home?” I ask, falling in step beside her.
“Yes.” This time she does smile and it makes my head explode.
Perfection.
I look around for another car, already knowing there isn’t another one around, “You walking?”
“Yes.”
“Can I give you a ride?”
“I’d prefer the walk.”
“Can I walk with you?”
After a minute, and what looks like some thought, she says that I can walk with her.
“Oh, great,” I say, because it’s the only words I can think of. I had mentally prepared myself for a slap to the face or a rape whistle, thinking it would be impossible to actually be allowed to walk her home but when neither come, I’m struck dumb.
She starts out ahead of me as I sit stunned in the daze of her unexpected permission, and I have to jog to catch up to her, but we keep the same pace after that.
Chapter four
“Wake up fucker, we have a DB,” I hear Keith’s voice crackle over the radio.
Picking it up, I say, “You know what I’ve said about being appropriate on the police radio.”
“Sorry about that, Chief Cunningham, we have a dead body at Fountain Hills Park.”
“Does it actually warrant you calling me in the middle of the night?” I try not to sound as annoyed as I am, but I’m probably not doing the best job.
“We thought so, Chief. He’s naked from the waist down, sitting on the park bench. No immediate signs of trauma or injuries but something had to kill him.”
“I’ll be right over.” Reluctantly, I pull myself out of bed and head over to the scene.
Finding the correct area in the sprawling park is easy when you simply have to follow the flashing lights. I pull in and jump from the cruiser. Nighttime has never been my favorite, but that’s when all the crime happens, so I’m stuck being out on most of them. Fuck delegating to the next in line, they always confer with me anyway, every little fucking thing, so I just do it myself.
True to Keith’s statement, there is, in fact, a dead man, unclothed from the waist down, sitting on the bench as if nothing were wrong with him.
“Hey, Bradley.” Keith jogs over to me.
“Listen shithead, you have to call me Chief Cunningham.”
My best friend of over twenty years is new to the force and, aside from his forgetfulness when it comes to how to appropriately address me, he really is one of the better applicants recently.
“I apologize, Chief Cunningham,” he mocks but continues. “Still no obvious cause of death, we gave him a once-over without touching him while waiting on you or the coroner to get here.” Pointing to the direction I’d just come, “Speak of the devil.”
The coroner pulls in and marches to the scene, he’s an older gentleman that feels as though this is his only purpose in life, so he takes it as seriously as one possibly could.
When he’s done working, and the body is loaded into the van, there are still no answers. The detectives are left to survey the scene and collect evidence while I follow the van to the M.E.’s office in hopes of getting some leads or a direction to follow.
Things like this don’t happen in my town, and if this is one of those pose-a-person mannequin crimes, well, then I can’t have the perp out on the streets for too much longer, or I’ll risk catching hell from mother’s screaming about how their kids would be traumatized by the lewdness of bodies left littering their precious parks. Oddly, I think it would be the exposed penis, and not the death itself, that would throw them all over the edge.
Keith radios later to tell me they have a hit on the guy’s ID. Now that we know who he is, we can start to investigate how he met such a strange ending.
“His license says Josh Whitmore, he’s 35. Lives in the burbs, no wife, no kids, got him working at a law firm. I’m trying the contacts in his phone now; I’ll keep you updated.”
“Thank you, Keith.”
Sitting in my office, feet on the desk, ignoring the paperwork I should be doing after being kicked out of the M.E.’s office for hovering, I’m left twiddling my thumbs.
He promised he’d prioritiz
e this case and get to it as soon as possible, but now I’m up too early, with two cups of coffee in me, and too alert and fidgety for a day of sitting-and-waiting.
My head falls to my chest and I leave it there until the phone rings.
“Chief Douche, we got something.”
“You’re lucky we’re not on the radio this time, fuckwad. What is it?” I ask, laughing against my better judgment.
“Friends say he was out with them at a club, seemed a little reluctant to say which club it was, but after some time, we got ‘em singing.”
“Ok.”
“A club called ‘Vīrya’ it’s kind of an underground thing, by appointment and invitation only. It’s less than a mile from where he was found, and get this, his Audi is still in the parking lot.”
Grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair and snatching my keys off the desk, I say, “I’m on my way, send location.”
“Will do, Chief Cunningham, sir.”
I can hear the mocking tone but I don’t engage with him, I just tuck my phone in my pocket and head out.
***
“Hey, Chief, we got nothing here from what we can see. No blood or signs of foul play. Got Lake in there pulling footage from the CCTV.”
“Thank you.” I walk further into the area and survey it for myself. True to Smith’s rundown; it doesn’t appear like anything nefarious happened here.
Lake comes jogging from out of the alley, excitement plastered on his face. He runs to within a foot of me, taking a few seconds to catch his breath before finally saying what’s been discovered. “Hey, Chief, so,” a few breaths, “looks like he left with someone. He was the last in the parking lot when she came out. They left together. Obviously, no audio available. But they headed in the direction of the park.”
“Great. We got ID on the female?”
“Security guard says she owns the place, her name is Tula, no last name he says—just Tula.”
“Ok,” trying to shake off the Madonna/Cher vibes this woman is after, I say, “Anyone out looking for home security footage? We may get lucky and one of them caught the action.”
“Already done, sir. The owner of the house wasn’t home, but we have the backyard cam pointed right at the bench, assuming it was actually turned on and not a decoy, I think we got it. We have Higgins parked in front of the house for the home owners return so we can snag it.”
“Perfect. Remind me why I had to get out of bed this morning if everything is going so smoothly?”
“Chief, I can’t answer that, maybe cuz his nudity was threatening to make a lot of people uncomfortable.”
“Yea,” I mumble, heading back to my office for more coffee.
I call the club when I get to my desk; the person who answers the phone tells me that Tula will be in at 3:00, leaving me four hours to wait, since the man claims no one has her contact information to get her in any earlier for questioning.
I rest my head on the office couch for a bit.
Chapter five
My eyes pop open just in time to see the number flick over and the alarm to sound simultaneously—I have a very good internal clock. I make it to the club ten minutes before 3:00. I get pointed in the general direction of this Tula lady’s office by a hulking man of few words.
I take in what I can of the place on my way. It’s dark, making me rethink if I have the right room. “Hello?” I call out.
She doesn’t respond, but her chair swivels and I’m left stunned for a full minute before I can speak. She’s topless, which is probably not uncommon around here. It’s more the way she’s topless, as though it’s not a thing, that’s very much making it a thing.
“Tula?”
“That’s me,” she stands, wearing only a pair of shiny black boots. Not just casually topless—she is casually naked. I can’t help but notice her tattoo, vibrant and red against her skin. She looks like the quintessential ‘exotic woman’ that my mom would have warned me about if she had existed in this reality. I lose my train of thought, just the sight of her garbles my brain.
Clearing my throat, and hoping my voice will come out normal, I ask, “Are you Tula?”
“Yes, sir, I’m Tula, as I’ve already said.”
Damn it, she’s right. And she knows I’m flustered now.
“Great,” I say, putting my hand on the grip of my gun, not that I’ll use it, but it shows authority, also, she makes me feel trapped and that’s uncomfortable. “Do you know why we’re here, Tula?”
“I don’t.” She takes a rubber band from around her wrist and pulls her hair up into it. The way she moves, it’s almost like she’s trying to throw me off. The simplicity of the task shouldn’t make her body do these things; it’s just fucking rude.
“We are here because the car left out in the lot belongs to a dead man found in the park.”
She points to the two chairs facing each other and tells me to sit. I do so before I realize I’ve followed her orders without any hesitation. She makes her way to the other, the closeness leaves our knees almost touching once we’re both seated.
She sits back and props her arms onto the rests, waiting for me to continue. “Are you aware that we have you and him on security footage walking away from here together last night?”
She pulls one of her red lips into her mouth and toys with her tongue in agonizingly slow motion. As if hypnotized by it, I’m surprised when she finally answers. “Of course I know that, they are my security cameras for the lot.”
“Right.” I expected her to expound but I see this is going to be a little more… difficult.
“Could you tell me what you did after you two left the area?”
“Yes.”
Moments tick by. “Would you please do that for me?” My irritation has a lot to do with the suffocating thickness in the air.
“We walked.”
“You don’t say. And then what, Miss Tula?” Sarcasm is my second language, but I’m usually not using it at work.
“Would you like me to tell you what happened last night?” She finds a fallen piece of hair and twirls it around her finger absentmindedly.
“Obviously.” I’m able to fight my eye roll, but only barely.
“What fun would it be if I answered that for you, instead of you uncovering for yourself? Isn’t the puzzle part of the joy of police work?”
“It would help us greatly if you’d just say what happened last night. Did you end up in the park with him?”
“I’m right here; of course I didn’t end up in the park.”
Mouth agape, “Are you kidding me right now?” If she wants to play word games with me then she can fuck off. “You want to come down to the station?”
“I’d prefer not to; I have a busy day today. You could stay and watch though. Would you like that?”
She stands and puts her hands on her chest, toying with her nipples. Before I can think not to, I have both her wrists in my hands. I tell myself it’s to stop her from manipulating me, but that doesn’t explain why I’ve shoved her against the wall.
“Oh, Mr. Control. I like that,” she teases.
It angers me that she’s actually able to get a rise out of me. “I’m not Mr. Control, I’m just trying to solve a murder.”
“Do you treat all your witnesses like this?”
“You’re a whole lotta something, aren’t you? Do you usually play games with people until they’re so frustrated with you, they snap?”
“No. Not at all. Usually, I play with them differently, and usually, it involves their dicks. I play with them until they’re balls are begging to release all that come. And then, I eat up every. last. drop.” Tula has come free of my grasp, leaving my body pressed against hers in stasis, due to shock alone.
“What?” I breathe, not really needing her to repeat herself, but it’s the only word I know right now.
“Listen, I’m not going to say anything else to you about your case. I will, however, give you a show.”
“No.” I’d really love a sh
ow, but not while working, and seriously, not after knowing she is so manipulative. I’d probably sign over my house and dog by the end of it. Maybe get a second dog and give her that one, too.
Pouty and sad looking, although something tells me not authentically, she says, “That’s too bad, I’d love to know what you taste like. Maybe learn how big that cock of yours really is.”
“Ok, listen.” I start, trying my hardest to regain the authority—even if I am lying and fooling only myself. I step back from her and pace the room while making some announcement to her about ‘how the law works’ and that we must ‘respect it or everything else will fall apart’. “Witnesses are supposed to help police.” I turn to look at her, “Unless you’re hiding something?” When I see her standing there naked, it doesn’t seem the most fitting thing to have said. And her laughter is more proof that I’m totally outta my league here.
“Take my card,” handing it to her as I pull the door open, which brings the rush of fresh air my head was begging for, I continue, “call if you grow a conscience.”
“Oooo, snarky Mr. Police Man.”
“That’s chief of police.”
Her smile grows larger, and I can see Tula enjoys knowing she’s gotten to me. “I’ll call you if I need to fill you in on anything, Mr. Chief.”
I escape quickly after that. My head is all over the place. I thought being married was a mind fuck. Like, that it took actual time to get all twisted up and shit. But she has mastered the mind-fuck with a quickness I’ve never encountered before, and I’m both irritated, and hard as fuck right now.
chapter six
Walking into the station I feel like a lunatic, hell bent on taking down any fucker brave enough to speak to me. Thank fuck no one does before I make it into my office. I find myself feeling a distinct compulsion to knock-one-out so I can think, but I don’t want to give that woman the satisfaction of winning, instead, I keep my hands off of myself.