by Loki Renard
Leaning her head back against the shower wall, golden threads of hair stuck to the wet surface as Jamie pleasured the pains of the day away. The minutes stretched out in a languid pleasure haze, the sensations flowing through Jamie’s entire body, until at long last she was satisfied. She holstered the shower head, turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and screamed.
On the bathroom mirror, smudged into the steam fog, was a pentagram just like the one under Mrs. Brampton’s rocking chair. Jamie’s heart began beating so hard it almost felt as though it might leap out of her chest. Her fingertips tingled, her breath grew short and every hair on the back of her neck stood erect.
Was there someone there? In her apartment? Waiting to stab her with a damn steak knife? She was unarmed. Her gun was in its holster on the coffee table. She shut her eyes and cursed inwardly. How could she be so stupid? How could she be so damn careless?
Holding her breath, she listened for signs that someone was still in the apartment. She heard nothing. Not so much as a creak. There was nothing she could do. She would have to make a run for it. Grabbing a towel about her body, Jamie fled the bathroom and grabbed her cellphone.
Shaking fingers made it difficult to navigate the menus, but she managed to get Jack’s number up and dialed.
“Jamie?” he answered almost immediately. She could have cried with relief at hearing his voice.
“Jack,” she panted, not bothering to hide the tremor in her tone. “Something’s happened. I think someone broke into my apartment.”
“Stay put,” he growled. “I’m on my way.”
*****
Jack made it to Jamie’s apartment in under fifteen minutes thanks to light night traffic. The security door on the street side of the building was not operational, so he simply walked through and ran up the stairs to her place.
The door to her apartment wasn’t locked either. Jack went in and found Jamie sitting on her couch looking thoroughly pale and pinched. Her hair was wet, her face sans any traces of make-up. She was not dressed, instead she was sitting in a damp towel that probably wasn’t doing any good for her couch.
“Jamie?”
She looked up at him, a haunted expression in her eyes. “Someone broke in here and smudged that pentagram into my bathroom mirror.”
A quick investigation revealed that there was nothing to be seen in the bathroom, so Jack turned on the shower to make it fog back up. Whilst that was happening, he went back out to reassure Jamie.
“If someone was here, they aren’t now. Go get dressed,” he suggested. “You’ll feel better with some clothes on.”
Truth be told, he’d feel better if she had some clothes on. Not that she didn’t look good in a towel, she looked adorable in the pink fluffy wrap. But it wasn’t professional attire and Jack was doing his damnedest to keep their relationship on the level. Seducing scared rookies wasn’t something he wanted to get a name for.
For once, she obeyed him without argument. “I’m sorry I called you,” she called from what was presumably the bedroom. The door was slightly cracked and Jack had to make a conscious effort not to catch an eyeful of bare flesh as Jamie clothed herself. “It’s probably silly. I just… got a shock.”
“You did the right thing,” Jack reassured her. He returned to the bathroom, where steam had fogged every surface, including the mirror. There, in the swirling wet mist, was a pentagram. Just as Jamie had said, it was smudged into her mirror with some greasy substance. Jack took a sample of it for later analysis, whilst trying to figure out how it had gotten there.
The most likely scenario was that Jamie had put the pentagram there herself, perhaps as a means of justifying having him in her home. But Jamie didn’t seem like that sort of woman. She was also not that good of an actress. Jack had been working long enough to know what a scared woman sounded like. Jamie was terrified.
She crept out of her bedroom wearing pink sweats and an oversized sweater. It was as though she’d sunk into her clothes, hiding behind folds of fabric. In casual clothing and without make-up, she looked younger and more innocent than ever, wide blue eyes rimmed by pale lashes, full lower lip still with a slight tremor.
“Someone was in my house,” she said. “Someone came into my home and tried to scare me.”
“Perhaps,” Jack said. “Or perhaps it was a daemon”
Jamie gave him an unimpressed stare. “That’s not funny.”
“Would you prefer it was a person?”
“I know it was a person,” she scowled furiously. “Someone came in here and smudged that thing into my bathroom mirror, knowing I’d see it when I got out of the shower. Someone wanted me scared. There’s been a pentagram at every single one of the crime scenes. Whoever is committing these crimes thinks they can fuck with me,” she said. “Well they’re wrong. I won’t be fucked with. They’re damn lucky they didn’t stick around.” Gritting her teeth, she glared into the distance, nasty visions no doubt dancing through her head.
Jack understood. It was easier to be angry than to be scared. Best form of defense being attack and all that. Most rookie cops went through a stage of being a little too hostile. The good ones worked through it. The bad ones gave the entire force a bad name. It was much the same for federal agents. Once they got hurt a few times, they tended to be cautious, and that caution tended to take the form of hot lead. He was glad that Jamie wasn’t shriveling up and hiding from the situation, but an overly aggressive rookie would be a pain in the ass.
“Listen,” he said. “This could give us a lead. Your building should have security cameras. We’ll check the footage and see who came up. This could be the mistake that cracks the case wide open.”
Jamie perked up. “That’s true,” she said. “Let’s call the superintendent.”
Calls were made and soon a harassed looking man with thinning hair and a paunch belly was jangling keys in irritation outside the security closet.
“You coulda waited tilla morning,” he said, poking the shiny prick ends of keys into the lock over and over again until one finally fit. “You gonna make my pizza get cold ‘cause some guy smudged your mirror? You gonna call the Feds in?”
“I am a federal agent,” Jamie said, her eyes glittering ice cool. “And this isn’t about my bathroom mirror. This is about an active investigation.”
The man snorted and managed to work the door open. The door swung into a little room filled with dust and tapes. VHS. Old technology. Very old.
He stubbed a fat finger at the eject button. “This is the lobby tape,” he said. “It’s all I got.”
“What about the cameras in the halls?”
“They don’t work.”
“They don’t work?”
“Yeah, you get it? They don’t work.” He rubbed his fingers over his belly and jangled his keys. “You got what you wanted. Let me eat my dinner.”
“Thanks,” Jamie said, speaking yet again through gritted teeth. She was holding onto her temper, but only barely. Jack could see trouble brewing in her future, though he didn’t blame her for being frustrated.
“Who uses VHS anymore?” she said, waving the tape. “We can’t watch this here.”
“We can watch it at the office, in the morning.”
“I don’t want to wait until the morning. I want to find whoever came into my place now. I want to find him now and I want to make him…” she trailed off, her lips pressed thin and tight.
“You can stay at my place tonight,” Jack suggested. “It’s not safe here.”
“I’m going to go to the office,” Jamie said. “I’m going to go to the office and I’m going to watch the tape, and I’m going to find out who came into my house.”
“You’re going to come with me,” Jack said. “You’re going to get some rest. We will review the tape in the morning.”
“Oh sure,” Jamie said. “Maybe by then there will be another body for us to hem and haw over. Better still, why not just sleep in tomorrow and leave the tape until next week?”
“Stow the sarcasm,” Jack replied. “I just gave you orders, agent. Get your overnight things.”
Jamie stared at him, on the verge of rebellion. “I don’t need to go to your house,” she said. “I’ll stay here. I have my piece if I need it.”
“You’re lying to me,” he said. “You’re going to wait until I’ve gone and you’re going to go to the office and look at that tape and then god knows what you’ll do. Probably sit in the dark scaring yourself silly. No. We’ll look at the tape in the morning. And you’ll stay with me, unless there’s a friend or relative you could bunk with.”
“I’m not imposing on my friends,” Jamie said. “And I’m not imposing on you either.”
“It’s not an imposition, brat. Now get your things before I put you over my knee.” Jack growled the threat. “I’m not going to argue all evening.”
“You think you’re going to just hit me every time I don’t do what you want?”
“Hit you? No. Spank you. Spank that bottom of yours bright red.”
Jamie made a growling, grumbling sound in her throat. “This isn’t fair.”
“I’m going to give you to the count of five,” he said. “5…”
“You can not count me down!” Jamie insisted. “I’m not going to just go along with…”
“4.”
“Jack! I don’t need…”
“3.”
“No!” She stamped her foot. “I’m not going to be…”
“2.”
“Ugh!” She turned and stormed toward her apartment, just in time to avoid the dreaded one count.
Jack followed. He could hear her rummaging about in her room, shoving things into a bag. Good. She was doing as she was told.
“I bet you wouldn’t tell other agents to stay at your house,” she shouted from the relative safety of the bathroom.
“I’m not dealing with other agents,” he replied. “I’m dealing with you.”
A couple of minutes later she emerged from her bedroom wearing the same sweats and a sullen expression. Fear had given way not to anger, but to sulking. She was tired, poor thing. He could see dark circles under her eyes and a telltale droop to her shoulders. It was likely more than just physical tiredness too. She’d been taken out of the paddling pool of the academy and thrown into the deep end and it was taking a toll.
Protective instinct rose in him all the more strongly. “Come on, Jamie,” he said. “Let’s go home and go to bed.”
“In your bed?”
He didn’t know if she looked shocked or hopeful. All her usually so easy to read expressions were muted into a general expression of misery.
“I have a spare room,” he said. “It’s comfortable and pentagram free.”
There wasn’t so much as a ghost of a smile in response.
“Let’s go,” he said, stepping toward her front door. “You have your keys to lock up?”
“What’s the point?” She shrugged where she stood. “Someone can get in anyway.”
“Lock your apartment, agent,” Jack said, beckoning her forward. When she still refused to move, he went to her and clapped his hand across the round of her cheek, not hard, just enough to get her moving. Unfortunately, Jamie didn’t take the hint. She dug her flip flop clad heels into the carpet and refused to budge. A harder slap elicited a whine, and a general grasping at her buttocks, but still failed to elicit compliance.
“What’s wrong, Jamie?”
“What’s wrong is that something or someone was in here. Maybe something. What does that mean if there are somethings in the world?”
“It means they largely confine their activities to smudging their ghostly fingers into mirrors,” Jack said dryly. “Don’t start believing in daemons now, agent. Someone might be trying to scare you off the case, but it’s not a supernatural ghostie.”
“But why try and scare me?” Jamie whined the question. Her feet started moving as she talked, which was an improvement. They managed to get all the way out of the apartment before Jack answered.
“Perhaps you’re an easier target,” Jack said. “This building doesn’t have terribly good security.”
He didn’t mention what the actual reason might be. The actual reason being that whoever was behind all this nastiness might have developed a fascination with her. It wasn’t uncommon for the mentally unhinged to become fascinated by young, attractive women. She could have caught someone’s attention whilst they were out questioning people. She could even have been followed home.
Jack made sure her apartment was locked, then took her back to his place. She was too tired to argue much, she even dozed off in the car. He almost felt bad about waking her up when they got to his place, but he doubted she’d want to be carried to bed.
Unfortunately, once she woke up from her all too brief nap, she no longer wanted to sleep. She retired to the spare room, but Jack could see that the light was still on, glowing in a thin strip underneath the door.
He tapped on the outside and called out, “Lights out, agent.”
There was silence. Then the main light went out. He was about to go to bed himself, but upon turning the hall light out, it became apparent that there was still a source of glowing illumination in the guest room.
Sighing, Jack pushed the door open. He found her curled up in bed with a tablet PC beaming its glow into her face.
“What are you doing, agent?”
“Nothing,” she scowled. “Go to sleep.”
“Don’t you tell me to go to sleep when you’re the one burning the midnight oil.”
“Ugh,” Jamie cast the tablet down. “Trust you to use an idiom from the 14th century. Give it a rest, would you?”
“I’ll give it a rest when you get some,” Jack replied firmly. “We’re going to have an early start tomorrow, reviewing the tape. I don’t want you to be some shambling tired zombie.”
“I won’t be!”
“Jamie,” he said. “Either you go to sleep now, or you get spanked. Which is it going to be?”
She screwed up her face at him for a moment, then a little bit of a smile teased at her lips. He knew before she so much as opened her mouth that she was about to get herself in trouble.
“I’ll sleep when I want to sleep,” she said pertly. “And there’s nothing you can do to make me.”
Chapter Seven
Jack knew Jamie was tired. He knew she was scared. He also knew she was being disobedient and if he let her get away with even a seemingly innocent victory, her rebellion would soon spread. She’d probably think him a controlling monster for enforcing the rules, but Jack knew how to keep subordinates of all kinds in line. They needed firm boundaries. The slightest hint that they could get away with something and they got all antsy and full of themselves and nervous.
So, he stepped into the room, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he did. “Looks like someone is going to bed with a hot bottom.”
“No!” Jamie pulled the covers up to her nose, succeeding in looking downright adorable.
“Yes,” he insisted.
“You already spanked me today!”
“I know,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Seems odd I have to do it again so soon, but some ladies need their bottoms spanked more than others.”
“I don’t!” She was hiding now, pale wisps of golden hair were all that was visible over the edge of the coverlet.
“Are you going to turn out the light and go to sleep?” He rested his hand on the curve of her bottom, which was quite visible under the coverlet. She went silent for a moment, but he could feel the slow squirm of her hips and then a softer, naughtier…
“No.”
“Then you’re going to be spanked, Jamie,” he said firmly, drawing down the covers. She tried to keep a hold of the top, but he simply pushed the blanket over from the side. Jamie ended up somewhat wrapped up in the bedding like a brat cocoon, but the important part of her anatomy was exposed.
Jack smacked her exposed derriere several times, smiling to himse
lf as she yelped and wriggled inside the soft prison of her own making. Then he helped her out of the winding blankets and positioned her over his thighs instead. Her tight, panty clad bottom looked great over his lap, and for a long moment he smoothed his palm over her cheeks, just enjoying the feel.
“These panties are in the way again,” he said, inserting a finger under the leg of her panties and running it back and forth across her cheek. It was an intimate thing to do, but they were in an intimate position. They had known one another just days, but there was something between them. Something that went beyond case agent and rookie. Something that made it necessary to position her so that she wasn’t pressed quite so hard against his belly.
As his finger dipped toward the crevices where bottom met thigh and thigh met thigh, the delicious apex of her womanhood, he felt her shiver over his lap. She was enjoying this. But it wasn’t supposed to be about enjoyment. It was supposed to be about discipline, about making sure Miss Jamie Black knew that her case agent was a man who enforced the rules.
He lifted his hand, delivered three sharp swats to the very seat of her panties, then proceeded to not pull them down, but push them up so that the silky material was caught between her cheeks, parting the twin rounds of her bottom and putting a gentle pressure on her pussy.
She made a small mewling sound of protest, but did not say anything. He did not miss the way her hips rocked ever so slightly back and forth over his thigh as she ground her clit stealthily, or so she thought, against his leg. He did not mind her arousal. It would certainly take her mind off recent events. Better to be horny than afraid.
It took all Jack’s self control not to dip his hand between her thighs and rub her pussy until she came. Instead, he began spanking her bare cheeks, one then the other in a slow, insistent rhythm that soon had blushes of pink color rising to the crowns.
She did not complain overly much. There were a few whimpers, but for the most part, she clutched at the sheets and held fast, making a soft noise that could have been a groan or a moan.
“Good girl,” he said. “Now I don’t want to wrestle you all night, Jamie. And I certainly don’t want to spank you harshly, but when I say lights out, that means the lights go out.”