Cuffs

by Loki Renard

  And then they were out and the slaps were back and Jerry was arching and moaning and writhing without any shame at all as Lara spanked her bottom to a bright red hue.

  “Fuck, Lara...” she panted between slaps.

  “Mhm, that's what I'm doing,” Lara said, placing a hand on the back of Jerry's neck as the fingers returned to the apex of her thighs and once more slid into that oh so wanting, oh so willing place that spread about them, clenched against them and rode high then low as Jerry arched back and forth. She could have cum like that, but she wanted more than a quick rutting on the couch.

  “Wait,” Jerry panted. “I want to take my clothes off.”

  The fingers stilled and slid away. Jerry pushed off her boxers and pulled the vest off over her head. Before Lara could reclaim her, Jerry straddled Lara's lap and began working at the buttons of her shirt.

  In short order, and after a decent amount of awkward limb flailing necessary for the removal of clothing whilst locked in carnal embrace, they were both naked. Jerry still straddled Lara, her pink-red bottom pressed against her lover's thighs as she slipped her hand between their bodies and felt the soaked downy lips.

  “It turns you on, spanking me, doesn't it?”

  “Oh god yes,” Lara said, sliding her hands around to cup Jerry's cheeks. “You have a cute behind. It's even cuter when it's red and bouncing.”

  Jerry's fingers pushed between the folds and found the depths of Lara's pussy. She thrust inside, feeling the walls of her lover's cunt grasping her fingers tightly. Soon Lara was returning the favor, her digits snaking in from the rear.

  “Fuck, Lara,” Jerry moaned, rocking her hips back and forth. “Oh fuck, Lara.”

  She came first, thanks to Lara's agile fingers and the frantic thrusting of her hips. Lara's lips locked around her nipples and helped her find the peak, tongue lapping against sensitive buds which sent zaps of pleasure down to the pulsing core of her being.

  And then it was Lara's turn. Jerry took a kneeling position between Lara's thighs and let her tongue trail over Lara's sweet spots. Caresses soon turned to tongue thrusts inside Lara and a hand on the back of her head guided her ever deeper as Lara took her turn to ride.

  Lara never looked so beautiful as she did when making love. Her eyes were half-closed, her erect nipples pointing skyward as the toned plane of her stomach rippled. The expanse of creamy skin, the light freckles here and there, the bright flash of her trimmed pubic hair brushing against Jerry's nose, it was all heavenly.

  Jerry's tongue was deep inside Lara when she began to shudder with orgasm, Jerry worked her fingers around Lara's clit hard and fast, just like Lara liked it. Heated breaths punctuated the otherwise quiet apartment and Lara's legs began to tremor with the force of her climax, muscles pulling tight as if her whole body were being pulled in on itself, paralyzed by the pulsing of her core.

  In the aftermath of their lovemaking they lay naked on the couch, covered in a light sweat and finishing off the last of the pizza.

  “That was amazing,” Lara said between bites.

  “Am I still suspended?” Jerry asked the question hopefully.

  “Of course. If I let you off the hook I won't be doing you any favors.”

  Jerry rolled her eyes and sat up. “You really don't think you went overboard?”

  Reaching for her lover, Lara patted Jerry's cheek lightly. “You've got five days to work out where you went wrong today, Jerry. It sounds like you're going to need every single one of them.”

  “I know where I went wrong. I got caught.”

  “Brat,” Lara said, pulling Jerry back down for a kiss. “You disobeyed me. You and your little squad of miscreants. You're lucky I didn't paddle you all.”

  Jerry snorted. “I think some of the guys might like that.”

  “I know you would,” Lara replied, smiling. “And I would too. Your butt could do with a good paddling.”

  Squirming, Jerry grinned at her lover. “You and your threats.”

  Chapter Seven

  The suspension was rough, Lara knew that. But it was necessary. The problem with the vice squad was that they'd become a law unto themselves. It wasn't good for discipline and it wasn't all that good for morale either.

  Three days passed and the majority of the team returned to work. Lara noticed a significant improvement in their attitudes. But she wasn't prepared to celebrate just yet. Jerry wasn't back yet. Cute, troublesome Jerry. The ringleader, though she would likely have denied it.

  Lara had something special planned for her lovely troublemaker that evening, a visit to a premium steakhouse. Jerry would like that. They had craft beers on tap and the thickest steaks anywhere outside the Midwest. It might make up for the ongoing disappointment of being forced to take a week's leave. Judging by the moping and the whining, it was a more effective punishment than Lara had imagined it would be. Poor Jerry just couldn't stand being out of the action, not even for a few days.

  Lara was browsing the restaurant's website when a rough knock at the door interrupted her. She looked up from her computer to find a very worried looking member of the vice squad standing in her office, ball cap clutched in his hands.

  “Samson. How can I help you?”

  “It's Schwartz,” he said. “I don't know how to say this, but...”

  “Schwartz?” Lara shook her head curtly. None of the boys liked the fact Jerry had gotten a longer suspension than they did, but they were going to have to come to terms with it. She was getting tired of them traipsing into her office to ask for Jerry. “She's on suspension still and no, I'm not bringing her back early.”

  “It's not that,” he said, scratching his short hair. “See, she's been coming into work the last couple of days, secret like.”

  Lara felt her temper rise. She stood up and pointed her finger towards the desk. “I want her in here. Now.”

  “That's not possible, ma'am.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, we went out again. Jerry thought she was close to getting something out of Hoffmeier...”

  “And?”

  “She got shot. Hoffmeier shot her.”

  The world stopped. A rushing sound filled Lara's ears. Her knees felt weak and then buckled beneath her, putting her back into the chair.

  “Don't worry, Ma'am. We got the son of a bitch.”

  Lara didn't care about the son of a bitch. She only cared about Jerry. “Is she dead?”

  “Shit. No. She's at the hospital. Sorry.”

  “Get me there. Now.”

  *****

  A squad car got Lara to Jerry's side in record quick time. Even though she'd steeled herself for all sorts of carnage, what she saw hit her worse than blood and gore would have.

  Jerry had been through surgery and come out the other side. She was pale and hooked up to a lot of equipment in the ICU. Her eyes were closed, dark lashes resting against her sweet cheeks. It was odd, seeing her so very still. Jerry was never still. She was constantly in motion in one way or another. Usually Lara could sense the devious machinations of her mind, but there was none of that energy in the room. There was only a stillness, a complete and utter silence that made Lara begin to panic.

  “Nurse!”

  “Yes?” Pink scrubs appeared, much needed authority in that sterile white and green space. There was a woman inside them, but Lara didn't see the woman so much as she saw the clothing.

  “Is she... did she... die?” Lara whispered the question.

  “No, she's just sedated,” the nurse explained gently. “She'll probably be this way for a few days. The doctor will come speak to you soon.”

  Lara sat next to the bed, took Jerry's hand in her own and looked into her lover's face. “Why, Jerry,” she asked the unconscious woman. “Why did you do this?”

  Her questioning was interrupted by the doctor, a man in his late middle age. He gave Lara a patented look of sympathy and flipped through a chart before droning the prognosis. “Two shots, both to the midsection. Fortunately, both mi
ssed her spine and major organs. We've had to do some intestinal repair work, but she should have a complete recovery.”

  “She should have been wearing a vest.”

  “She wasn't, as evidenced by the bullet holes.”

  Lara shot him a look of withering ice and his face fell.

  “We expect her to make a full recovery. You can go home. She won't be awake for a while.”

  Home. How could she go home when the woman she loved lay so close to death's door. As far as Lara was concerned, there was no home other than the one she found at Jerry's side. Gathering her coat about her she drew a chair up by Jerry's bed, and waited.

  Jerry woke to a world of confusion. The last thing she remembered she'd been playing a game with someone... oh, yeah. The crazy German. And then he'd... fuck. Her eyes focused and she realized she was in hospital. It was the smell that gave it away. The smell and the tubes flowing into her hand.

  “Fucking asshole,” she swore to herself. Doing a quick body check, she reassured herself that she could wiggle her toes and fingers. No paralysis then. Thank fuck.

  The room was quiet, but there was someone else in it. Someone curled up on a chair looking like a pile of old coats.

  “Lara?”

  There was no answer besides a soft snore from the chair, but the flash of red hair told Jerry it was Lara keeping vigil by her side. Jerry realized that there weren't going to be enough apologies in the world when Lara woke up. How was she ever going to explain what they were doing? Was anyone still on the vice squad, or had Lara fired the lot of them?

  There were a lot of questions chasing one another around Jerry's head, but none of them had answers and she was feeling dopey. Reaching out toward the chair, Jerry put her hand on Lara's arm and went back to sleep.

  A hand in hers. Lara woke to a hand in hers, a hand she'd been terrified she'd never touch again.

  “Jerry?”

  Jerry stirred. Her eyelids flickered open and her dark eyes focused on Lara.

  “I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so fucking sorry,” she said. Her voice was slightly slurred from the painkillers, but they didn't stop her from apologizing over and over until finally Lara stopped attempting to verbally reassure her and instead leaned over and kissed Jerry silent.

  “I love you,” she said in the moment of peace following the kiss. “And I accept your apology. So just relax, alright baby, you've had a hard enough time.”

  “I'm sorry,” Jerry repeated. “I'm really sorry.”

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  Chapter Eight

  A few more weeks went by and Jerry was starting to feel better, and find her temper. She was also eager to get out of bed and get moving, which presented a challenge for the nurses, more than one of whom threatened to strap her in if she didn't keep going for impromptu jaunts around the hospital.

  “They're damn control freaks,” Jerry complained to Lara when she dropped in on one of her daily visits. It had taken a while to convince Lara she didn't need to stay there all day and all night, but eventually the desire for hot showers and her own bed and the need to work had won out.

  “Are they,” Lara said dryly. “Do you think maybe their job is to get you well?”

  “I think maybe their job is to get off on bossing people around.” Jerry squirmed toward the edge of the bed.

  “Stay still.”

  “Quit hovering. My belly isn't going to burst open because I scratch my butt.”

  Lara was too relieved by Jerry's sass to be annoyed by it. Her girlfriend was intact, perhaps not completely physically, but mentally.

  “You'll be out of here soon enough,” she said. “Just try to be patient. I know it's not your strong suit, but try.”

  “They're going to keep me in here until I can do cartwheels,” Jerry said, eyes darting about in a decent facsimile of institutional paranoia. “I'm a prisoner of of the system.”

  “They're not,” Lara reassured her. “You're going to be released tomorrow. I'm going to look after you. You'll stay at my place where I can keep an eye on you.”

  “I'll be fine at my place.”

  “No you won't,” Lara said firmly. “You'll be fine at my place or you'll stay here and I'll help the nurses strap you down.”

  “Out of the tying pan, into the tire,” Jerry quipped.

  “That makes no sense.”

  “I don't care,” Jerry giggled at the joke, seeing nobody else was going to. “It's these meds. They're trying to make me a junkie. It's a conspiracy. By the left and the neo-liberal right. Bill O'Smiley told me. Hospitals are communism, you know.”

  “You are not watching any more Ferret News,” Lara said, switching off the television. She shook her head at her girlfriend and smiled. “How do you manage to be trouble even when you're bed ridden?”

  “It's a way of life,” Jerry explained.

  Lara was forced to concede that it probably was.

  *****

  Having eventually been sprung from the hospital, Jerry soon proved to be not the best house guest. Mostly because she did a pretty decent impression of having been raised in some outdoor location with no need for basic tidying. The vice squad hadn't helped either. They'd been particularly generous showering her with completely inappropriate gifts and the sort of encouragement that made Lara give more than one or two death stares.

  “If you don't want to go back to work, you could start a small bar,” Lara said, picking up a 40 oz of hard liquor. Fortunately it hadn't been opened. Jerry's pain medications didn't go well with top shelf.

  “I know, right?” Jerry grinned. “It's awesome. I should get shot more often.”

  “Not amusing,” Lara said. “I'm not letting you leave the house without a bullet proof vest from now on.”

  “Even to get milk?”

  “Especially to get milk,” Lara said, wading through a pile of snack wrappers. “Though it wouldn't kill you to pick up a little, would it?”

  “I was wounded,” Jerry said gravely. “Twice.”

  Lara's hands went to her hips, and a most unimpressed expression established itself on her face. “I'm very well aware of that,” she said. “But that was weeks ago. You can do light duties. Like the dishes.”

  “You'd make a wounded woman do menial labor?”

  “I would,” Lara said. “I'm cruel like that.”

  Jerry feigned a woeful expression, then began slowly picking up around her. She was not going at any great pace, indeed she wasted a good deal of time groaning until Lara slapped her sharply on the rump.

  “Ow! You hit me! I'm wounded!” Jerry turned wide doe eyes on Lara and affected a limp.

  “You're turning this apartment into a slum,” Lara said sharply. “Now quit messing around and tidy up.”

  “Heh, messing around...Ow!” Jerry squealed again as Lara's palm once more made contact with her backside. “Seriously, that's not very nice.”

  “I'll be nice when you tidy up.”

  “How nice?” Jerry arched a brow at her lover. They had not been intimate since the incident. Jerry had been too out of it and Lara, well Lara had been too timid, afraid that Jerry might break. That fear was fast dissipating though.