Women With Handcuffs

by Sacchi Green

  Thomasane lay down next to me, her feet up on the couch and her head in my lap. I stroked her face, my hands cupping her chin and throat, feeling the tightness there loosen, feeling her swallow slowly, counting the slowing pulse in her neck.

  Thomasane said, “Raven was eating on the beach and a hunter came up to him. ‘I’m hungry,’ said the hunter. ‘Do you know where the good meat is?’

  “Raven peered at him, thinking. Finally, Raven said, ‘See that island across the ocean? See that cave? All the hunters say it’s good hunting there.’

  “So the hunter made a kayak out of his spears and parka. He was cold but he was hungry more. Then, the hunter took his kayak out into the ocean to row to the island. Raven flew above him, still chewing his meal. The hunter climbed out of his kayak and walked to the cave entrance.

  “He peered into the darkness of the cave and asked Raven, ‘Where is the meat, Raven?’ Raven knocked the heavy stones down from the top of the cave onto the hunter’s head, killing the hunter instantly.

  “‘You’re the meat, stupid,’ Raven said, eating the hunter’s face. ‘I just don’t know why they fall for that every time.’”

  “Oh, honey,” I said to Thomasane, kissing her soft mouth, my hand still cupping her chin.

  My mouth lingered over hers and softly, she kissed me back, her tongue stroking, licking at my mouth. My other hand slid into her uniform and underneath her bra until it cupped her breast; her nipple hardened in my palm. I pulled and rolled her nipple between my knuckles, not quite cruel but close enough.

  Thomasane rose and climbed fully on top of me. I lifted my hips when she unzipped my jeans and pulled my damp panties off, curling my legs alongside her hips, my sex open to her fingers. I bucked into her; her fingers opened like a flower inside me. We fucked, her thumb circling round and round on my clit, her hand curling and unraveling in my cunt, her tongue deep in my mouth. I howled into her mouth when I came.

  Afterward, lying in the tangle of our limbs, I reached out to stroke her through her brown pants, to return the favor. Thomasane shook her head, no, and rose off the couch. “Can’t,” she mumbled at me, “Have to take a shower. Going back to work. Brady can’t handle all the paperwork.”

  I listened to the shower turn on. I sat up, found my panties and put them on. I got my jeans midway up my calves and then just stopped and kicked them back off again. I looked at the kids’ paperwork and, despite myself, even though I thought I was going to just breathe and keep it all under wraps, I kicked at the artwork savagely. Pages of water-colored landscapes flew in the air.

  The dogs looked at me, eyes wide. Ginger got up and moved away from me, feeling the waves of my anger. I’d rescued her from abuse at an early age. Raulie stayed close, unwilling to let me suffer alone. I’d gotten him from a feral street litter. They each dealt with humans based on their own past. They’d both come a long way toward healing and, in turn, often healed me.

  I felt like laughing. It was a lot like my relationship with Thomasane. It all came back to her crappy violent childhood, trying to protect her younger siblings from her alkie dad and weak, druggy mom. What was it Thomasane said when she thought I was cutting too close with the questions? Oh, yeah. “I’m not one of your dogs, Chris. You can’t save me.” Really? I wasn’t the only one. What about her need to protect everyone else?

  I buried my face in my hands, too angry to cry but my eyes burning so badly that the light was killing me. Ginger came, pressing her back into my legs. I petted her absently, worrying already. Yes, Thomasane was going to go back to work to help finish up the paperwork that Brady could never do alone. Then, they’d go to a bar and drink. They’d drink and not talk, come home and not talk some more.

  I snorted up bitter sharp laughter. Maybe I should call Karen, Brady’s wife, and together we could start a Cop Wives Support Group. I even had a tagline for the group: “Women who love ticking-bomb cops who drink too much, collect guns and never share their pain.”

  I knelt down and gently collected the kids’ artwork. I soothed the wrinkles, worried at a few tears in the pages. Finding my breath again, I concentrated on grading and grading alone. Line, shadow, space, composition, color choices, originality. When Thomasane came out of the bathroom, smelling of Lever 2000 and lavender shampoo, I stared at her, silently demanding that she acknowledge me. She came to me and kissed the side of my mouth harshly, possessively, before walking out the front door.

  By the time Thomasane came home, the house smelled thickly of grilled garlic steak, onions and mashed potatoes. I’d made a hot green-bean salad with almond slices, baked honeyed corn muffins, and tossed up an imitation crab salad with cherry tomatoes and tofu. Dessert was Thomasane’s favorite: cherry pie à la mode. I’d set the table up with the food and lit fat, smoky, vanilla musk candles.

  All of these delicious smells barely covered the smell of sweaty, spoiled, happily-run-to-bone-weary-sleep dogs, though. So, I’d lit sandalwood incense and sprayed the carpet, chairs, couch, Raulie and Ginger with extra strength Febreze. Then I’d locked Raulie and Ginger up in our bedroom.

  I think it helped that I was also completely nude except for high heels and a string of pearls. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I wanted to feel her inside me. I just wanted to fuck and not think about anything else. Ever again.

  Thomasane was happily, almost gratefully surprised. She sat down at the table, forgetting to remove her gun belt and jacket. She looked at me and grinned, which was hard for her to do. Before me, I doubt seriously she’d ever even smiled.

  “Loocy,” Thomasane said in a kick-ass Desi Arnaz imitation, “I think you have some esplanning to do.”

  I knelt down next to her and gently removed her gun belt. Then I climbed onto her lap, facing her, the edge of the dinner table digging into my back. I bounced a little, my nipples digging into her brown uniform, my cunt already warm and wet on her lap, my arms wrapped around her neck. “Ooh, T, can’t that wait until after we eat?”

  Laughing a little, Thomasane reached around me and cut a piece of steak. She swirled it slowly in the A.1. sauce and brought it back, dripping, over my shoulder. Softly, she dabbed my collarbones with the steak and sauce. Sauce dribbled down my breasts. Then, she fed me the steak while she sucked and licked at my chest, lifting me nearly onto the table to suckle a nipple. I moaned, my legs grasping her waist tightly.

  Thomasane lifted me fully onto the table, and I pushed her plate out of the way. One by one, she lined my stomach with warm green beans and almonds. I giggled, my hands in Thomasane’s slick black hair, cradling her head. Thomasane sucked the bean juice out of my belly button, her tongue teasing flickers there that I felt all the way to my cunt. I ground against her, my hips rising. Thomasane stroked my swelling labia lips, tickling me with the barest of fingertips. I ground against her fingers, her now-slick palm.

  Reaching behind me, I found the mashed potatoes. I smeared a handful into Thomasane’s mouth, both of us laughing, and then I rose up, pulling her back down with me as my tongue and fingers explored her mouth hungrily. I opened her brown shirt, shoving her white bra out of my way. I nibbled on her breasts, sucked hard and chewed lightly on her long hard nipples.

  Thomasane continued to stroke my wet snatch until, anxious for her, I shoved her hand inside me. I gasped, not really ready for her entire hand but so desperate for her, needing her so much that I couldn’t wait. Thomasane closed her hand so not to hurt me and I calmed, relaxed, taking her. I trusted her completely. I wished she felt the same about me. Thomasane kissed me hard and long, demandingly, possessively as we slowly fucked.

  Around midnight, a sixty-nine-year-old man called 911 and confessed to the murder of Libby Shields. It was just a stupid accident, he said. He hadn’t meant to do it. The Emergency Operator asked if he wanted to turn himself in. The man was silent for a moment. Finally, he said he guessed so. The Operator asked if he needed a police escort and then asked calmly for directions to his whereabouts. He gave them to her, his voice cracking mi
dway through. The Operator sent the information into the station.

  The phone woke me but Thomasane was faster, reaching over me to catch it. By her sudden stillness, I knew what it was, who it was even before she explained in a rush. She dressed quickly in silence, to the soft red light of her bedside lamp. When she leaned over to kiss me, it was hurried and wet. Her side of the bed was still warm when I heard her truck leave.

  I sat there in the soft red-lit room, unable to sleep now that she was gone. When Raulie and Ginger poked their heads around the bedroom doorframe, I clicked my tongue to the roof of my mouth, calling them in. I let them settle in Thomasane’s spot and cuddled close to them. Even though I closed my eyes, sleep still eluded me.

  When it was almost a decent hour, I got up and dressed, leaving the dogs to sleep on the bed. I sucked down coffee quickly and shoveled peanut butter toast into my mouth. Thomasane hadn’t called me since leaving at midnight to go pick up the man who’d confessed to Libby Shields’s murder. It had me a little worried. She always found time to call me. Slowing down from 90 to 35, I pulled into town. My old truck nearly sighed in relief. Thomasane and Brady weren’t at the station. I went over to sit next to Thomasane’s desk.

  Absently, Trooper Harding called out, “She’s not coming back any time soon.”

  I looked at him.

  “She and Brady are at the hospital. Brady nearly got his foot cut off with a machete.” Blood drained from my face. Harding went on, “Thomasane’s okay. She shot the perp.”

  Karen beat me to the hospital, but then I guess if it’d been Thomasane with a machete-chopped foot, I’d have moved heaven and earth also. I stood next to Thomasane while they gave Brady more drugs. His foot was wrapped up and held in a sling. Karen couldn’t stop crying. I reached out and held Thomasane’s hand. After a few minutes, she squeezed back.

  “They say he’ll keep his toes and his nerves aren’t severed,” Karen said with brave melodrama, crying still. “But there’ll be a scar.”

  I said very seriously, keeping a straight face, “Nothing could be worse.” Thomasane squeezed my hand in warning. Not everyone enjoys dark Irish humor.

  Brady shook his head in disgust. “Bastard threw a machete at me.” He looked at me bleary-eyed. “A machete. Why not an axe? What’s wrong with an axe?”

  “You should go home,” Thomasane whispered into my ear, “I still have to get my full confession.”

  I stared wide-eyed at her. I whispered, “He’s here?”

  Thomasane smiled at me, laughing at my reaction. “I’m a damn fine shot. He’s just wounded. He’ll live to serve time for Libby’s death.”

  “Are you in trouble for shooting him?”

  “Self-defense.” She motioned toward Brady. The drugs were kicking in. Brady was examining the fat fleshy knot his hand made wrapped within Karen’s. Thomasane went on, “Brady’s my witness. The perp threw a weapon at both of us during the middle of the interview.”

  I nodded. Thomasane led me out of Brady’s room and into the hallway. For a moment, she held my hand in both of hers and then, she let it fall away. It’s a small town after all. Small-town judgment. Head down, I snorted in bitter laughter. I turned away.

  “Chris,” Thomasane called softly after me. I kept walking but then, my pride and anger and fear just died within me. I only felt gratitude. Thomasane was alive. Brady would heal. And Libby Shields’s murderer would face justice for his crime. In the bigger picture of it all, it was petty of me to cling to small annoyances. I turned back around to face Thomasane. Smiling gently, I said, “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

  When Thomasane got home, I had a hot bath waiting. I’d started drawing and draining the bath hours before. I hadn’t known it would take her so long to get home to me. But I guess, with Brady in the hospital on medical leave, all the paperwork was hers to do. When she let me undress her, I knew she’d done all the drinking for both of them, too.

  She sighed once in the tub, the steam rising up to fog the mirrors. I bathed her and scrubbed her gently with lavenderscented bath soap. Thomasane hates scented bath oils. That’s how I knew for sure that she was more intoxicated than usual. It was on the tip of my tongue to mention to her that it’d be a tragedy if she were to get a DUI right after shooting a perp, but this softness, this unusual vulnerability in her stopped me.

  I said instead, “I’m glad it was Brady instead of you.”

  Thomasane’s eyes popped open, her body tensing, but she didn’t say anything for a while. Then, when I thought she was going to keep it all inside, like always: “It’s always something stupid like that. Something you wouldn’t think could happen. Stupid evil is what gets you in the end. True evil you can fight. It’s noble, you can see it. You can find justice for true evil, but stupid evil? You die a joke.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, how to answer to that. So, instead, I said, “Hey, T, did I ever tell you about when Raven brought the light?”

  “No,” Thomasane said, closing her eyes again, even though she knew the story better than I did. “How did Raven bring the light?”

  I bathed her as I spoke, her limbs drowsy and liquid in my hands. “Once,” I said, kissing her neck, “the world was wrapped in darkness because the Sky Chief kept the sun, moon and the stars in boxes in his house. To keep the light safe, the Sky Chief never let it out. Everyone in the world, however, stumbled in darkness, afraid and hungry, violent and stupid, praying for light. Raven watched this and grew bored. So he turned himself into a tiny black seed and threw himself into a drinking well. Along came the Sky Chief’s beautiful daughter. Thirsty, she drank from the well, swallowing the black seed that was Raven.”

  I soaped Thomasane’s breasts, her brown areoles wrinkling as her nipples stirred. I leaned down and kissed each one. Thomasane purred in her throat, smiling. I licked one nipple and sucked at the other. I kissed her mouth solidly, quickly, before rising up again to tell the story. Thomasane draped one wet hand over my thigh. I lifted and soaped her thigh, while my fingers traced circles and waves like disappearing tattoos on her inner thighs.

  I continued, “The Sky Chief’s beautiful daughter became pregnant with the seed that was Raven. She gave birth to a beautiful little boy who carried Raven’s soul inside him. The Sky Chief was so pleased with his grandson, he spoiled him rotten. Then, on the child’s third birthday, the Sky Chief asked him what he wanted for his three birthday gifts.”

  I moved to the side of the tub to start washing Thomasane’s other leg. Her eyes still closed, she rose slightly out of the tub to give me a kiss; her wet breasts dampened my shirt, stirring me. My own nipples rose in answer and fire, and longing shot downward to my groin. When she released me, I pulled my damp shirt over my head and threw it behind me. Thomasane laughed a little, and her fingers danced delicately over the raised nipple in my bra.

  “What did the Raven child want?” Her black unreadable eyes twinkled.

  I smiled and answered, “He wanted the moon, the sun and the stars that the Sky Chief kept in boxes. The Sky Chief loved his grandson, even if Raven was his soul, and so he gave the boxes to the child. And once the boxes were in his hands, Raven released himself from the body cage and flew upward, stealing the moon, the sun and the stars away. Then, there in the sky, Raven threw the stars as far as he could so that they could reach all the dark parts of the earth. The people below screamed in delight. Raven released the moon, and she ran to the far corner of the sky so she could shine shyly like a maiden. The people below jumped up and down, clapping their hands. Then, Raven tossed up the golden ball sun so that it ran across the sky happily like a child in fields. The people danced in happiness, overcome with the light in their lives. Now, the people knew that even when everything seems overwhelmed with evil, good is coming. It is just that sometimes it is the dark itself that brings the light.”

  I finished washing Thomasane’s other leg and slowly put it back into the warm water. Thomasane took my hand and guided it to her cunt. I washed her slowly, com
pletely, soaping her nether lips, circling her clit with my thumb. When she was clean to my satisfaction, I stroked her, my fingers fucking her slowly, playfully. I drained the tub with my other hand.

  Trembling, relying entirely on me, Thomasane stepped out of the tub. I knelt before her, looked up at her and kissed her cunt until she spread her legs and let me in.

  HEALING HAND

  Lynn Mixon

  Normal people didn’t reach for a shotgun when an unexpected visitor pulled into their driveway. I hadn’t been normal for a long time, so as soon as I heard the crunch of gravel, I grabbed my 12-gauge and peeked through the drapes.

  The sleek black SUV pulling up to my gate confirmed my suspicions. None of my neighbors owned anything that fancy, and they knew better than to just drop in.

  A shotgun is a handy thing. You hardly ever have to use it, but in some situations, nothing else will cut it. Snakes and strangers, for example. You never quite knew exactly what either would do.

  Turned out, after all, I knew the tall, blonde woman in the beat-up bomber jacket who climbed out of the SUV. Five years wasn’t nearly long enough to forget someone like US Marshal Lily Callahan. My chest tightened a little at the memories the sight of her brought up.

  She’d shepherded me through testifying at trial and entering the witness protection program five years ago. While she hadn’t done anything obvious, I knew she was attracted to me. The fascination had been mutual, though it took me a while to understand why. I’d had a thing for bad boys for most of my life, and her tough-as-nails cop attitude pushed those same buttons. I’d thought many times about how things might have been different if I’d followed through on those feelings, but I’d bluffed myself out of that hand.

  I sighed and let the drape fall. She wasn’t here to talk about old times. Whatever had brought her up into the mountains couldn’t be good.