Tempting the Law

by C. S. Chatterly

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  Copyright ©2007 by C.S. Chatterly

  First published in 2007, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Uniform Behaviour: Tempting the Law

  ISBN #978-1-906328-59-7

  ©Copyright C.S. Chatterly 2007

  Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright November 2007

  Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Total-e-bound books

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

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  Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.

  Warning:

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-sizzling

  Uniform Behaviour

  TEMPTING THE LAW

  C.S. Chatterly

  Dedication

  To my husband, Lee, and to all the Irish people of the world!

  December 1, 2007

  Ms. Monique Martinez

  Director of Women's Pleasure, Inc.

  1313 25th Street

  New York, NY 13021

  REF: Appointment

  Dear Monique,

  At the insistence of some friends, who've advised me that I simply must get away from work and take some time for myself, I'd like to schedule a very long day at your esteemed establishment.

  I trust, however, that this visit will remain confidential. I'm sure you can understand that I'd be placed in an extremely difficult position with my current employer should he, or rather they, find out what I'm doing.

  My need for confidentiality stems from my being employed as a police officer. My department might take disciplinary action against me if they learn I'll be visiting your facility. While I personally find nothing wrong with patronizing your establishment, and the State has made such businesses legal, I'm sure you can understand the controversy should my supervisor find out exactly what I'm doing. While there's nothing assumed wrong with a member of the public visiting your bordello, members of the police department aren't encouraged to engage in such pursuits and may suffer career setbacks should their patronage be discovered.

  I must therefore ask for the most extreme anonymity during my visit. Could this be arranged? If so, I'd like to set an appointment as soon as possible. Are there options of available men from whom I might choose? To facilitate your response, I am exceedingly fond of big, brawny men. Very muscular, whose characteristics include magnanimous opinions of career women and big ‘extras'. Think—a blend of Mel Gibson and Conan the Barbarian with a touch of Celtic warrior mixed in. No hollow-chested, whining younger men please. I don't intend to spend my visit playing mother to some insecure boy with ‘issues'. I'd like a man whose experience with women gives him insight into a real woman's needs.

  Respectfully,

  Officer Cathy Sullivan

  P.O. Box 15489

  New York, New York 13023

  Chapter One

  "Are you sure about this, Lisa?"

  "Cathy Sullivan, how many times do I have to tell you? It's only for one day. From this morning until five o'clock. And nobody at the P.D. is going to find out unless you open your big mouth. You need to get away from work. If I had my way, you'd be gone for a week, not just a day."

  "Well ... no matter how this turns out, thanks for buying me the visit. That's pretty damned decent of you considering the cost."

  Lisa rolled her eyes and pursed her lips to keep from grinning. “Oh, I've got a feeling I'm gonna get as much a kick out of this as you are."

  "What's that supposed to mean?” Cathy asked as she shoved the last garment in to her small zipper bag and adjusted the shoulder strap.

  "Nothing. I just want a blow-by-blow description when you get back."

  "That's very amusing,” Cathy shot back. “You're not making this any easier."

  "If you'd get over your prudishness and consider this an adventure, you wouldn't be so wound up."

  "I am not wound up.” Cathy stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets to keep her best friend of ten years from seeing them shake. She ignored the prudish part of her friend's opinion. “But after that letter you wrote, put my name to, and had sent to your address, I'm not sure what I'll end up getting myself into. You could've at least shown it to me before you stuck it in the mail."

  "If I'd left it up to you, you wouldn't have written the letter at all. You're too prim about such things.” Lisa lifted her hands over her friend's head and formed a halo by joining her index fingers and thumbs.

  Cathy sighed in exasperation. “Look. I'm not an angel, and I'm sure as hell not a whore, either. I do my job, and I do it well. I can't help it if you and the rest of the vice-squad think I'm uptight. Just because I don't sleep with every guy in the division doesn't make me a prude. It makes me professional."

  "Don't start that again. I don't sleep with every guy in the division."

  "I know you don't, but...” Cathy would have continued the argument, but a loud horn sounded outside her apartment and interrupted whatever she might have said.

  Lisa went to the window and looked down into the street. “Your cab is here. You want me to buzz the driver up?"

  "No. I'll go down. I've only got this one small bag.” She looked down at the black leather bag at her feet, and wondered if there were any packing requirements specific to what she was about to do.

  Lisa shot her friend what she hoped was a decent leer and rubbed her hands together. “Didn't pack anything you can't get out of quickly, did you?"

  Cathy ignored the comment, grabbed up her zipper bag and walked to the door. “Be sure to feed George and Martha, but not too much."

  "You've shown me how to feed your goldfish twice, already. Will you go?"

  Cathy opened the door, gave Lisa what she hoped was an unconcerned smile, then closed her apartment door behind her. In the hallway, she swallowed hard, wiped the palms of her hands against her slacks and descended the stairs. Lisa Portelli had been her friend since they'd graduated police academy ten years ago. While Lisa had gone on to work the vice-squad, she had eventually been assigned to the Mayor's task force on gang activity. It was a prestigious position, and she was very proud to have been appointed.

  But, as often happened in the department, Lisa and her friends from the vice-squad would frequently get together for parties and invite her along. During the course of t
hese shindigs, one or more of the group would get quite bawdy and she always negatively commented on their antics. It wasn't in her personality to celebrate hard, and she never understood the need to do so. Her stringent control of her behaviour had earned her a reputation for being a stuffed shirt. But the guys and gals from vice still kept inviting her to their gatherings, and she still showed up when the invitations were issued. Deep down, she suspected that they were right. While she wasn't a virgin at the age of twenty-nine, she wasn't as worldly as some of them. Maybe she wanted to explore some of the possibilities that could exist sexually between a man and a woman without any commitment. Or maybe she just hadn't found the right guy. But there was some part of her that must want the day trip to New York's most exclusive bordello, or she'd never have accepted the gift Lisa offered.

  The cab trip only took about fifteen minutes. After an uneventful ride, the white marble columns of the bordello appeared. The cab driver expertly wound his way up the long curved drive, and Cathy felt a rising sense of panic. Her excuses that someone from the department would find out what she was doing were all a sham. Lisa knew that. The department didn't give a fig about what she did with her free time so long as it was legal and didn't bring dishonour to the P.D. Okay, some of her friends would rib her about the trip to the bawdy house, but that was the worst of it. No, her real reason for the rising anxiety sticking in her gut was the fact that she was about to have several hours of sex with a complete stranger. Even facing down a dangerous gang member in an unlit alley hadn't inflicted so much concern. That kind of confrontation she was used to and well trained for. This was totally out of her realm.

  The Arrival—10:00 a.m.

  Cathy stepped out of the cab, paid the driver who place her bag at her feet and looked over the marvellously landscaped front of the old stone structure. She suddenly wondered if her angst wasn't exactly what a Roman gladiator might have felt before being sent to fight for his life before his emperor. The imposing stone structure before her certainly evoked that kind of image. The front of the place had the look of an arena—tall, imposing, multi-windowed and almost inescapable.

  She took a deep breath, picked up her bag and walked toward the front doors. There, she was greeted by a smiling footman in a red uniform who took her bag and led her into the marble-floored, domed foyer. Expensive looking but erotic artwork decorated every conceivable inch of the walls. A white marble staircase to her left led up into the Dens of Iniquity, her mind suddenly labelled the balconies where rooms were situated. “Jeez! This place looks like a museum,” she muttered to herself.

  A smiling blonde woman of petite proportions walked forward from a long hallway. “Hello, I'm Monique. You, of course, are Ms. Sullivan.” She held out her hand.

  Cathy quickly shook it and cleared her throat. “I-I should tell you, I haven't ever done anything like this."

  "Oh, that's quite all right. Many of our guests are newbies. But they soon get into the swing of things. Uh, no pun intended.” She turned to the doorman. “Will you take her bag to the Gaelic Room, please?"

  Cathy watched the doorman walk away with her bag. “What's the Gaelic Room?"

  "In our phone conversations, you indicated you were Irish and wanted a fantasy built around a Celtic theme. As it happens, we have just the perfect room for such a little adventure.” She smiled, wiggled her hips, and fingered a long strand of faux pearls with one hand. “Wait until you see what we've got cooked up for you. I don't think you'll be disappointed."

  Cathy swallowed hard. Lisa had obviously done more than write the initial letter leading to this appointment. Her best friend had seemingly planned even the place where she'd be serviced by a strange man, and all the infinitesimal details of the interlude. This tryst was to be a complete fantasy, not just a romp in a back bedroom somewhere.

  "That is all right, isn't it? Have you changed your mind?” Monique asked carefully.

  Cathy realised that something in her expression must have alerted the other woman to her anxiety. She quickly smiled and waved a careless hand. “No. The Gaelic Room sounds just perfect.” Cathy cleared her throat. An image of her choking her best friend suddenly inserted itself into her brain.

  "Come along. I'll take you to your room. Your outfit is all laid out, and your gentleman will be joining you shortly."

  "Outfit?” Cathy squeaked, and pulled at the turtleneck sweater she wore under her navy blue suit. Sweat was suddenly beading between her breasts.

  "Oh, that's all part of our service. And I want to assure you that your anonymity will be completely protected. Your gentleman will address you simply as Cat. His name will be Ian. We also protect the privacy of the gentlemen here at Women's Pleasure, Inc."

  "I see.” Cathy mouthed the name Cat several times and rolled her eyes in disapproval. The name painted a picture of a feline denizen of the dark, scrounging around in alleys for a particularly sumptuous morsel. Luckily, Monique was walking in front of her and couldn't see all the expressions she deliberately pulled as they stepped into an elevator. Even more erotic artwork decorated the interior of the small conveyance. She tried not to stare at it as they moved upward, but it was a bit difficult when a particularly graphic scene of a Roman man and woman enjoying anal sex presented itself on the wall in front of her.

  "Your schedule of activities has been placed in your room. Of course, it's totally up to you whether to keep to that agenda or not. Many of our clients find they're so suitably occupied by their gentleman that they simply don't want to leave him for other pursuits. We'll leave that to your discretion. And do call if there's anything you need that hasn't been provided. We consider ourselves a service agency and can get just about anything you could possibly desire."

  Cathy felt her eyebrows shoot up and wondered what the polite, business woman would do if she called down and ordered up some totally unrelated items. She pursed her lips and tried not to smile at the absurdity of asking for rubber bands, a brick, three tacos and a shoe horn. But her amusement faded as the elevator stopped on the third floor, and Monique led her down a long hallway whose walls were covered in flocked, red-velvet wall paper. It was like something out of an 1800's saloon. The effect certainly wasn't cheap, but the decor fairly screamed gratuitous sex. She fancied she could almost hear someone yelling, “Take me, you animal. Beat me, whip me, make me write bad cheques."

  Monique stopped in front of room 313. “This is the Gaelic Room.” She reached into her dress pocket and handed Cathy a key.

  Cathy took the gold-coloured skeleton key out of the woman's hand and thought about turning around and leaving.

  "Again, just call room service if you need anything which hasn't been provided. All the call numbers are right by the phone. Enjoy.” She patted Cathy's arm and walked back toward the elevator.

  Cathy could turn around and leave as her initial impulse instructed. But she'd had to do much worse things as a police officer than open that door and wait for a man to come to her. Besides, if it was up to her, then she could have sex or not. She was in charge and was determined not to do anything just because Lisa or her own insecurities demanded some action. No. She could have a long massage or a pedicure. These were some of the pampering details that Lisa had assured her could be ordered. It wasn't like she was being forced into anything. Suddenly, the entire situation seemed more humorous when viewed with an objective attitude.

  "What the hell! I'm here. Might as well enjoy it.” She put the key in the door, walked in and stopped in the entrance.

  Before her was the most elaborately designed suite she'd ever seen. There were silk flowers all over the room. These were laced through silk bushes and artificial trees. Beneath her was a green carpet mimicking grass. The entire space looked like some medieval forest out of a King Arthur movie. There was even a castle painted on the far wall and the blue-grey paint of the turrets sparkled under muted twilight. She walked around and looked everything over, deciding Lisa's taste in fantasy rooms wasn't too damned bad. There was even a picnic
basket full of wonderful treats and champagne sitting on the canopy draped, four-poster bed.

  "Okay. I can get into this,” she quietly muttered and nodded to herself.

  Behind one section of the make-believe forest, she found a bathroom with a sunken tub and every conceivable sex aid displayed on the vanity. They were all brand new and wrapped in sanitary containers. Her bag was conveniently sitting by the bathroom door. Nearby, a shimmering fairy-like costume in pale green was hanging from a hook. Grinning, Cathy quickly disrobed and put the costume on. Lisa must have guessed correctly at her measurements because the thing fit to perfection. She turned to the wall-length vanity mirror, let her hair down and was brushing through it when a gong sounded. She looked around and decided the outrageously loud sound had to be the door to her room. Make believe was over. It was truth or dare time. She slowly walked to the door, looked through the peephole and got a view of a broad, shirtless chest. She looked again.

  "Holy crud!"

  She took a deep breath to steady herself, opened the door and stared.

  Chapter Two

  The Appetis er—11:00 a.m.

  "Hello, Cat. I'm Ian. I hope you don't mind that I'm using your pseudonym. Monique told me that's what I should call you. That way, neither of us knows the other's real name.” He sheepishly finished and waited for her to address him.

  The low voice coming from that body-building, six-and-a-half feet of rock hard frame totally muted her response. She continued to look him over. He was in a blue plaid kilt, leather boots and not much else. At least, that was her suspicion. The kilt was held up by a broad, brown leather belt, a lot of hard-packed abdominal muscle and sheer nerve.

  Ian cleared his throat. “May I come in?"

  She stepped aside and closed the door after him.

  He slowly turned around.

  Strangely, Cathy got the impression that he'd never been in the room before. He seemed to be looking it over the same way she had earlier. “Uh, I told Monique that I hadn't ever done anything like this before."