Double Grades

by Kristine Robinson

  I abandon all caution, all fears and doubts, and just plunge into her, wrap my arms around and press our bodies together. She lets out a mewl of satisfaction, before seizing the sleeves of my top hard, and tugging off my low cut shirt. We rip at each other in a frenzy, fighting to get each other's clothes off, and I can tell it's been a while for both of us, because she looks almost mindless with lust. Who knows what I must appear like to her, if I seem too eager, or wrought with the need to have her in me, to be in her.

  “I want you,” she hisses, blue eyes ablaze, long fingers tugging off my not-really-a-skirt and panties. She's positioned herself to be firmly on top, one knee wedged between my thighs. Not to be outdone, I struggle to get her out the rest of her clothes as well, because I badly want to see the body that lies beneath. I'm not disappointed, either. She has delicious curves, and my hands fit snugly into her sides, squeezing as I visually devour the rest of her body. Her chestnut brown hair flares out like a lion's mane as she tosses her head backwards. She's gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell right now to have her naked above me, staring at me with lust filled irises. She's all I've ever imagined, and more, and that's saying something.

  “I'm all yours,” I hiss back, and she shudders, before lowering her lips to my mouth again, kissing hard and deep, passion animating every inch of her body. I dig my fingers into her back and arch into her, and she moves her lips to bite at my ear, groping me with surprising strength. I didn't realize just how powerful she was from her tall frame. Even with my training, I think she might be able to overwhelm me if she put her mind to it. I allow her hand to trail down to my throbbing core, though I'm tempted to shift away and try and assert authority over her. She slips two fingers into my wetness, and lets out a moan of satisfaction as my insides envelop where she enters. The touch electrifies me, and I gasp out loud, eyes rolling back. It's been too long since I've had someone inside me like this, with a far better angle than what masturbation achieves.

  With a moan, she thrusts inside me, sometimes curling her fingers so she can hit my g-spot. I'm shaking within moments, unable to bear such sweet torture. She's not even touching my bundle of nerves, and that's something pretty damn special if she can make me climax from nothing else but her movement inside.

  Of course, she senses that I'm getting close, and in a gleam of evil, she withdraws, just as I'm on the cusp, to stop me from coming so she can play with my further, and grin at my indignant reaction.

  “That was so mean! I was about to come. Like, seriously!”

  “I know,” she whispers, and she glides her hand over my core, teasing me, making me moan from the torture. I can't believe she's doing this. I had been so close. I don't think I can withstand prolonged torture from her for long, before I'm begging and pleading for her to finish it, to make sure that the surge courses through my limbs and leaves me unmoving afterwards.

  I do give in. “Please,” I whimper, body shaking from her teasing, “Please...”

  She pretends to contemplate my request for a moment, before she says, “I suppose I can let you come...” Her fingers slip inside me once more. She instantly strikes up a hard and fast pace, making me shudder violently, and I moan. She feels so good inside me, and I love how she looks, so full of determination, as she moves her fingers, her whole arm working along with them to add additional pressure and force.

  I cry out as the orgasm coils inside me, and is released by her expert ministrations. She's hot, and amazing, and I'm like putty underneath her body. I can't move anything at all, because it's as though the connections to my extremities have me cut.

  The climax mellows me out, flattens me into the blankets. I sigh relief and drown in bliss, eyes firmly shut.

  It doesn't take long, however, before she idly circles one of my breasts with a finger, making me open my eyes again. She smiles innocently, and says, “Round two?”

  This time, I purse my lips as I pretend to contemplate her offer. There's no question, really. After that orgasm, I'm ready for a hell of a lot more. “How about as many as we can possibly fit into one night?” I reply. Her answering grin is evil. I match it, knowing that neither of us will be getting much sleep.

  At all.

  Chapter Five

  I wake up, and for a moment, I stare at Andrea's sleeping form, content.

  Then, my eyes are drawn to something else. It takes me about a second to register that we're not alone, which is quickly inflamed by panic and horror.

  “Hello there, dykes,” Chavo says, grinning viciously. His mean gray eyes glare out of his square jaw face. A woman stands beside him, sneering, her perfect red lips twisted into something spiteful.

  Andrea by now has woken up, and glares daggers at the woman. “Alison. Fuck you.”

  “You wish,” Andrea's ex says sweetly. “Should had taken me up on my offer when I asked.”

  “You sold me out because I wouldn't have sex with you?” Andrea rubs a palm over her eyes, and I see she's trembling in fear. Whilst this little exchange is going on, I've reached for my phone underneath my pillow and after a few attempts, swiped it off lock.

  “Well, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound very nice, does it?” Alison replies.

  It's not just Alison and Chavo in the room. There's three other people there are well. One appears to have headphones in his ears, and is clearly listening to a song right now, apparently unperturbed by the sight of two naked women in a hotel bed in front of him. The other is a plump man who is twitchy like a mouse, his eyes darting from side to side, trying to look everywhere but at us. A man with tattoos on his fucking eyelids, as well as the rest of his face, sneers cruelly at us. I vaguely match his appearance to Andrea's description of Tonio.

  “We're not going to kill you,” Chavo says, now narrowing his eyes at me, “Yes. You thought you'd get this cop whore's help, did you, Andrea? Too bad.” He clicks his fingers, and the thug with the tattoos draws out blindfolds. “Scream, however, and you will find holes in your heads. Promise or not.”

  Finally, I've called the chief on my phone. I decide to chance muting it so they don't hear him pick up and answer, and I pretend to let out a whimper of fear and duck under the covers, just to buy myself a few precious seconds to complete the call silently.

  “Oh, get up, you stupid bitch.” Chavo sounds delighted at my fear, however, and if I'm honest, it's not much of a stretch to for me to actually be terrified.

  “What are you planning to do with us?” Andrea's voice is shrill.

  Chavo pretends to look thoughtful as he strokes his chin. “Oh, plenty of things. Chavo got much plans for a whore cop and a stupid, robber traitor. Maybe if you're nice to me I'm nice to you, huh?”

  “You should quit toying with them,” Alison purrs, though her face is still stretched in that ugly smile.

  “Get up. Get dressed. Now!”

  Hastily, Andrea and me locate our clothes and put them on. In the meanwhile, Chavo keeps muttering about what he's going to do to us – all hopefully caught by Excelsior who should be listening on the other side of the phone. I feel a slight twinge of guilt – he's going to know from this that I lied to him about my grandma, unless I can fast talk him otherwise.

  After our clothes are on, Chavo and his goonies place blindfolds over our eyes, tie us up by the wrists and push us roughly out the hotel. Our pockets are searched for cellphones. I hear screams of shock through the blackness, possibly the staff and customers seeing Chavo waving his little gun and panicking as a result. I've ditched my gun at the office because I'm not meant to be packing official firearms off duty. So great.

  “I'm so sorry, Jenn,” Andrea hisses to me. My heart instantly goes out to her, because she's the one who is going to get the brunt of what this monster wants out of her.

  “Don't be,” I whisper back, before Chavo clouts me on the lip, telling me to “shut my whore mouth.”

  Fury boils inside. It's like listening to a broken record, everything he says. We're bundled into the back of what feels like a van �
�� I hear the slam of door and endure the pungent smell of dog hair in the back.

  I don't know where we're going. I can only hope Excelsior caught enough of the conversation to figure out that we're in some deep shit. It helped that Chavo seems to be an ongoing narcissist who absolutely loves talking about himself. I wonder if I can play that to my advantage, and I focus on that idea now, instead of the nagging fear that there's no way out of this.

  The people in the shows always find a way out. I will as well.

  “Fuck,” Andrea says beside me. I feel her huddle up close, until she's snatched away by whoever else is in the back with us.

  “No getting cosy,” A soft female voice coos. Alison.

  I grit my teeth.

  I don't want to imagine what might happen to us under a violent sadist's hands. I just don't.

  Chapter Six

  Sunlight blasts my eyes. Heat sears my skin. My legs ache as, still blindfolded, we're forced to stumble up what feels like rough land, like perhaps mountain or desert. With the blindfolds off, I'm presented with the sight of arid land and mountainous terrain, with a sparse scattering of trees. I vaguely recognize them as the Wichita mountain range, near the Narrows, and Chavo and his cronies have parked us near what looks like a sheer cliff drop.

  This is looking better and better by the second. Chavo still wears that ugly sneer on his face, and I see he has a blade in his hands. I'm forced to kneel, and Andrea is tied into a chair that has been prepared in this spot earlier. The rock rubs against my knees. Feverishly, I work on untying my bonds. I had tucked a finger into the knot to stop it being too tight, but the strain of the odd angle my finger is forced in causes a wave of throbbing and additional discomfort.

  “First things first,” Chavo gloats, sauntering up to Andrea, who has converted her fear into defiance. “The traitor.” He flicks his blade in front of her face, and to her credit, she doesn't flinch. I keep reflecting on the sheer cliff drop, knowing that anyone who tumbles down it is unlikely to survive the impact with the jagged rocks below. My heart twitches fast, and dread slithers through me.

  That bastard better not hurt her. If wishes could actually come true. Chavo lives on other people's suffering. I see the way his face lights up in pleasure when he slaps her, and she lets out a grunt of pain. He better not seriously fuck her up...

  “The only traitor around here is you,” Andrea spits into Chavo's face. “You usurped Martin Dawes. He was a good man, and took you in under trust. I told you I didn't want to work for a murderer.”

  “And I told you the price,” Chavo hisses back, now waving the blade dangerously close to her cheek. “You don't want to work, you can leave. In a body bag. We cannot have people with inside knowledge waltzing around. We are an operation within an operation. Part of the biggest and best criminal organization on the planet. Your boss was weak and had his head stuffed with pathetic dreams. I made us something to fear.”

  I see Chavo's jaw set, and a flicker of rage twitch in his eye. Spanish Honor. This guy has a twisted perception of what honor is, how people should treat him. He wants respect, but doesn't earn it. He forces it by subjugating others.

  “You are,” Andrea reiterates, “a shit human being.”

  Chavo's arm shakes. The knife plunges down. Andrea shrieks as it cuts her cheek, and runs a red line down to her collarbone.

  Holy shit. My eyes gape in horror. I can see that Alison, hiding behind her scorn, is shaken as well. Does she care for her ex at all? Is there a snippet of mercy in there? Anywhere? The tattooed thug, Tonio, grins in delight. The plump man, who I figure is the replacement for Andrea, looks faint at the sight of blood. The youth with the music is next to me, and for once he doesn't have his earbuds in. He inhales sharply, eyes narrowed.

  Immiately, I see the dynamics of this team better. One man who rolls with it – the youth at my side. One who doesn't have a choice. A woman who seduces her way through threat. A man who loyally follows the orders of his mad leader, and relishes destruction equally. And a sadist that forces them all to obey him.

  “I've been waiting a long time to deliver you your punishment for disobeying. No good subordinate would ever disobey their leader. Including a whore like you.” Chavo's eyes gleam manically. The knife strikes again and again, leaving paper cuts along all her exposed skin, and numerous marks on her cheeks. Sometimes it looks like he cuts in deep, and I wince at every stroke.

  Andrea whimpers, screams, and spots out a glob of blood. “You're no criminal mastermind. You're a lowlife thug who forces people to do his bidding. You're the bully at school who beats up a kid for fifty cents. You're a puffed up idiot compensating for his tiny penis.”

  Alison snorts, and I realize she's trying to suppress a laugh.

  The tiny penis remark seems to have enraged Chavo further. He holds the knife against her eye. “Just you wait until you feel this 'tiny penis' sticking inside you.” The knife glints as he turns it, and I shudder at the horrific imagery presented. “Screwing you over and over again.”

  “If you had any balls you wouldn't be threatening women this way!” Andrea yells. “Alison? How can you endure this piece of slime? How can you let him treat you like he does? How can any of you actually go along with him?” My heart stutters in fear. It's brave of her to be so defiant, but it's also stupid. She's already bleeding from so many places, she must be losing so much blood. I see her blink, woozy, and again, the image of that knife impaling her fills me with revulsion.

  Leave her alone. Please.

  “Enough,” Chavo says. “Let's ditch the cop.” He leaves Andrea and walks over to me. “You kicked me. All I was doing was asking you out, and you fucking kicked me.”

  “That's not what I remember,” I say, bravado influencing my speech, even as I furiously twist at my bindings. I can't die now, now before I've truly begun my career as a cop. Not before I've had the chance to have an actual relationship with Andrea. “I remember you harassing me.”

  Chavo spits in my face, and the saliva trickles down my cheek. He grabs me by my hair and forces me to stagger with him towards the cliff drop. “Look, Andrea. Your girlfriend is going to die.”

  Meters from the cliff, I manage to get my hands out the bindings. He realizes in alarm what I've done, and it seems instead of throwing me off the cliff, he's decided it's easier to stab me. I deflect the blow, but I lose balance and fall backwards. I desperately grab onto his shirt and he lunges forward with me.

  There's noise and cries in the background, as Chavo drunkenly lurches, takes one step off the cliff and windmills his arms furiously, before falling. “Puta!” His cry echoes and fades. I hear a distinct wet thud a few seconds later.

  I blink, consternation infecting my brain. Shit.

  There's a roar of hatred and incandescent rage behind me, and I see the Tonio scramble for his weapon. Without thinking, I pounce forward at a mad sprint, and manage to push his arm up as it fires off. Desperately, I try to kick him where it hurts, but he's ready to defend himself, and he forces me to the ground and slams my head against granite. His gun clatters to the side, out of reach for the both of us.

  I see in the background, Alison kissing Andrea as she unties her ropes, and a sense of betrayal and confusion rocks through me, before the thug slams my head into the ground again.

  Stars burst in front of my eyes. I can't fight him off. He's too strong. I keep trying, though, attempting to gouge at his eyes, but I'm pinned down good. Pain sears through my rib cage, and I hear an audible snap. Now the life is being choked out of me. I see a contorted, demonic expression snarling in my face, cursing me for killing his hermano, and I scrabble, uselessly, rasping sounds coming out the cushion of suffocation in my windpipe.

  Then, his eyes glaze over. Andrea, blood oozing out of her wounds, rears above us like some primeval monster, a bloodied knife in her hands. She sticks it into the tattooed man again and again, until his grip slackens, and the light in his eyes dies.

  Silence fills the clearing, as the remainin
g goonies seem to process the events of what has just happened. I roll onto my side, gasping and wheezing, sucking in welcome air to my ravaged throat. Andrea collapses beside me, eyes bulging in horror. She throws away the knife as if it is red hot, and starts wringing her hands.

  Alison steps up beside us, places a phone in front of Andrea, then beckons to the others.

  “Greg, A-Ron. We better head out. Mission is failed. Leader was emotionally compromised and K.I.A. Tragically, Tonio died as well.” She doesn't sound as though she considers Tonio's death as particularly tragic.

  A-Ron places his earbuds back in, and vaults over a rock, heading down the slope. Greg gibbers nervously and follows afterwards. Alison stalks behind, but not before she gives Andrea a last, lingering glance.

  “I'm sorry,” she says, before her blonde hair vanishes out of sight.

  Andrea and I lay there for a moment. I can see her focus is draining, just like her blood, and I reach for the phone, to call 911. To get my chief over here, and an ambulance. The operator on the other side barely understands me, because I have to force my words out of a compressed throat. We manage to reach a compromise, however.