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Message-ID: <47397asstr$1081721403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 19 {Imagineer} (MF viol ScFi)
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Date: Sun, 11 Apr 2004 18:10:03 -0400
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Cruel Summer

copyright 2001-2004 by Imagineer.

comments to 
imagineer 47: yahoo green eggs com ham
but without the green eggs or ham

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Imagineer/www/


// 19: Mistaken


  Valerie strolled nonchalantly to her usual spot at the back end of
the bar. As usual, the eyes of every patron followed her on her way to
her barstool. Unusually, the eyes of the bartender followed her as well.

  Val ordered the usual. "Bourbon." ID flashed. The highball popped
against the bar; orange-brown liquid dashed into it expertly. All the
while the bartender's eyes were glued to her chest.

  Odd. The bartender had always played it cool with her before; today
he was just another pair of hungry eyes.
  As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, she'd gotten more
attention than usual all day. She'd managed three on-the-spot job
interviews, each one lasting over a half-hour. She'd noticed most of
the businessmen in the office complex courtyard at lunch were taking
long looks at her, some even forgetting to be subtle about it.

  She recrossed her legs and rearranged the hem of her pale blue
sundress across her thighs. Her high-heeled sandal dangled languidly
from her toes. She straightened up, feeling the thin rayon fabric shift
over her braless breasts. All this attention because she'd decided to
wear something a little more relaxed and feminine today. Funny what men
would do when they weren't afraid of you.

  Though considering how she'd had her way with TJ, maybe they should
be. Valerie shuddered, at once frightened and repulsed and... turned on
at the thought of what had happened.

  The bartender was still standing in front of her. Her eyes met his as
he looked up from the narrow vee of exposed flesh between the halves of
her dress; she'd neglected to button it all the way up this morning.
"Thanks," she said. Suddenly embarassed, the bartender retreated and
busied himself picking up empties and wiping down the booths on the
other side of the room. He was kind of cute. Actually, he was very
cute. And tall. Val noticed that he kept stealing glances back at her.
Just as she kept stealing glances at his tight little butt when he
turned back to his work...

  Odd. If he didn't usually act this way, neither did she.

  The TV news was on, but nobody was really watching. The half-dozen
men in the bar all took turns ogling the lithe young woman in the
corner. Valerie pretended not to notice. The room was darkly lit except
for the corner where she sat; a mis-aimed tracklight intended for
behind the bar bathed her in a warm glow. Had it always been like that?
She felt like she was on stage. And she enjoyed the feeling. She
shifted on her stool as she recrossed her legs, letting the hem of her
thin dress "accidentally" ride up her thighs. The room seemed to get a
little quieter when she moved.

  Valerie idly flicked her fake ID back and forth against the bar. She
liked to flaunt her fake ID, which added four to her nineteen years.
Made almost two years earlier by a real pro with a credibly-bad photo
and blanks stolen from the DMV, it dismissed raised eyebrows in a
heartbeat. It was the only really expensive thing Valerie owned...
until the sapphires.

  The sapphires. Valerie regarded the belt made of old lockets linked
together on a chain, where her three blue orbs had been since she'd
"played" with TJ a couple of nights earlier. None of the boys had been
back to her apartment since. And she hadn't taken off the belt since,
except to take showers.

  The sapphires. By all rights she should be rich right now, enjoying a
much better drink in a much better bar. But she was determined not to
be stupid about it. Fencing them as ordinary sapphires was just pissing
away their profit potential. Besides, they'd saved her life twice, sort
of. They were unique, powerful, amazing. Things just seemed... better
when she had them with her.

  You're not getting attached to them, are you girl? she asked herself.

  No... but until she came up with a way to safely connect with the
girl and arrange for a profitable exchange, it wouldn't hurt to keep
them close.

  In the mean time, she was still broke and couldn't find work. Maybe
she could find some way to use the sapphires. Her index finger idly
traced circles around one of the lockets on her belt. She was tired of
the kind of bumbling high-risk low-yield muggings and con jobs TJ and
Spence were always cooking up; she couldn't wait to be rid of them...

  The TV caught Valerie's attention. "One man is dead and another
fighting for his life this evening in a bizarre event at Nixon
International Airport. Timothy James, a 22-year-old Maplewood resident,
suddenly collapsed outside the terminal just over two hours ago.
Paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene. Just a few feet away,
another unidentified man also collapsed and is reported in stable
condition at County General Medical Center. Investigators have as yet
been unable to determine the cause, but airport officials report no
signs of any threat to travelers, and all terminals remain fully open
at this hour."

  All eyes followed Valerie, drinking in every last second of her
curves as she hurried out of the bar.


  Valerie didn't know what had happened to TJ and Spence, but someone
was bound to show up looking for her, wanting to ask her questions --
or worse. She scurried about her apartment, stuffing various items into
a large backpack. 

  Clothes. Just a couple days' worth. Shit, she should have done
laundry yesterday, all she had clean was stuff she hadn't worn in a
while. Her favorite pair of jeans, even if they were a little ripe.
Deoderant. Her boots. Don't take too much or they'll notice stuff
missing and know you'll be gone for a while. Wait, who cares? Just get
out, figure the rest out later. To the kitchen. 

  Granola bars. Juice boxes. Hidden under the microwave, the sixty
bucks she'd taken from TJ. Damn, TJ was dead now. Who killed him? Did
*she* kill him? He'd looked pretty fucked up when she'd left him the
other night, but he'd apparently been healthy enough to get out under
his own power. Somehow, the sapphires? Maybe a delayed reaction? God,
was it going to kill her too? Were they radioactive? She regarded her
belt with worry, her hands lingering over the front clasp. Don't be
silly, Valerie. You've had them for days and nothing bad has happened
to you; TJ was only around them for fifteen minutes... 

  Val looked to the busted sheet rock on the wall next to the bedroom
door, and to the corner where the tangled shelves and broken
knickknacks still lay. "Looks like I'm not getting my deposit back."
She replayed the struggle in her mind. "Damn, TJ would have really
fucked me up if it weren't for the sapphires."

  Come on, girl, just get moving. Lay low for a few days. You were
gonna split this dump at the end of the month anyway. You can come back
for the rest of your stuff then, when it's safe. In the mean time,
maybe you can catch up with Nina...

  Valerie found herself thinking warm thoughts about Nina. She hadn't
seen Nina in almost a year, when she'd finally given up on the confused
girl after being strung along for months. Valerie herself couldn't
understand the difficulty -- either you liked girls or you didn't, and
Val thought it was pretty clear from the way Nina's tongue worked that
Nina fell into the "did" category. Did she ever...


  Jesus, Val, get a hold of yourself! The cops or somebody could be
here any minute, and you keep daydreaming about getting laid. You need
to get out of here.

  Val quickly looked out her bedroom window, up and down the street. No
obvious police presence. Time to go.

  The deadbolt snicked its retreat. The chain fell. The knob squeaked
as it turned. The door creaked as it swung open...

  "Hi! Can I come in?" 

  A man lunged forward, his hand instantly in Valerie's face.
Instinctively she stepped back, arms coming up to protect herself from
the surprise attacker, head pulled back and turning aside. The hand
clamped down over her mouth; she smelled and tasted powdery rubber.

  Valerie felt herself off-balance, driven backwards, her head shoved
back and twisted by the hand over her mouth. She was being turned
around, a hot rubber grip around her wrist, twisting her arm up behind
her back. The door slammed shut. Painful force against her arm
compelled her across the apartment. She screamed as she saw the broken
sheet rock of the wall coming up on her fast...

  The wall knocked the wind out of her; she felt herself being crushed
against the wall, her twisted shoulder burning in pain.

  Then she was pulled violently backwards, spun around by her arm.
Something hard and sharp grabbed her free wrist and yanked it down; a
metallic clicking greeted her ears in time with her pinned wrist being
yanked down to meet its mate. She was spun and shoved, falling
helplessly back-first, the whole room spinning until she crashed
against against something cushioned.

  It took but a moment for Valerie to regain her bearings. She was on
her ass, her hands handcuffed behind her back, sunk deep into the
busted couch, her knees awkwardly splayed. The narrow heels of her
sandals didn't get much traction. As she struggled vainly to get up out
of the couch she realized she was giving her attacker a good show. He
raised an eyebrow and cocked his head in curious appreciation, then set
off for the bedroom.

  "Who the *fuck* do you think you are?" the adrenaline-charged girl
yelled after him. She didn't like to be manhandled... though if she'd
been honest with herself she'd have admitted her pounding heart and
rapid breathing weren't entirely from fear or surprise...

  The man crossed in front of her on his way to check the kitchen
window and the peephole in the front door. He moved with practiced
faux-military movements, like someone who watched too many action
movies. Valerie could only sit and wait. Finally, he grabbed one of the
two chairs at the kitchen table, spinning it around so the back was
toward the stuck girl and plopped down onto it, arms folded over the
backrest.

  His gaze started by meeting her icy stare with a look of cool
confidence, then gradually drifted downward, checking out her chest,
partially exposed by the way the top of her dress fell open -- it
certainly seemed more gauzy under the harsh light of the old halogen
lamp than she remembered it being earlier in the day. His casual look
continued down her body, looking unashamedly right up her skirt -- Val
fought the urge to close her legs, figuring it would just give him more
satisfaction at her modesty than if she just let him stare. His eyes
traced a path down her long legs to smile at her feet in their
high-heeled sandals. Well, she *was* dressed pretty hot...

  His eyes darted back up to meet hers. His smug look conveyed...
ownership.

  It was then that Valerie recognized him. The hair was different, and
so was the brown-nosed-a-bear goatee, but that look was unmistakable.

  "Miguel, you fuck... lemme go!"

  "Tsk-tsk-tsk. That's 'Detective Rubio' to you. At least until you've
answered my questions. Then you can call me 'lover' like you used to."
  "You wish," she spat.

  Police Detective Miguel Rubio. She'd first met him at age 14, just
two weeks after running away from home. She'd foolishly gone to the
police to file a complaint against a pimp who'd been harassing her.
Then-Officer Rubio was the cop who'd taken her statement. He'd been
nice at first, but as soon as he found out she was an underage runaway
he turned on her. "I should call Child Protective Services right now
and get you on the next bus back to your mom and dad," he'd threatened.
"But I've got an idea you might find more appealing. I'll let you walk
out of here and pretend I never saw a Miss Valerie Strain, Age 14. But
then you've gotta do something for me." He'd made her act as bait to
bust a crimelord with a weakness for ripe young girls. He'd given her
trashy clothes to wear, told her where to go and what to say, and
before she knew it the lecherous criminal had her tied to a bed, buck
naked. Miguel had promised a task force would be waiting to take the
perp down before anything happened, but the bastard had been lying
through his teeth. Miguel had left her alone with her captor for over
two hours before finally "stumbling" in on them and making the bust.
And then instead of letting her go as promised, he'd let Child
Protective Services get their hooks into her; she'd endured days of
humiliating "counseling" sessions from within a locked cell before
being planted on a bus headed for home. She'd ditched the bus and
hitched back into town of course, but she'd never forget how Miguel'd
used her. The SOB had made detective as a result of that bust.

  And ever since then, Miguel had made a point of tracking her down and
harrassing her every few months, whenever he found himself in a
particularly sadistic mood. He was always trying to get something on
her, some leverage so he could use her again -- and he always had a
certain gleam in his eye that told her he was as interested in using
her for his personal pleasure as much as for career advancement. But
after that first time Valerie made sure she stayed out of his neck of
the woods and kept a low profile. Miguel hated that he couldn't quite
snare her again.

  Miguel Rubio was the principal motivating factor in Valerie's recent
attempts to distance herself from TJ and Spence. And now, just when
she'd thought she could finally get free of those two clowns, here was
Detective Slimeball.

  "I assume from your travel bag there that you've heard the news.
Looking to get out of town until the heat cools off, sweetie?"
  "I don't have to tell you shit."
  "Fine. Let me tell you what I see." He paused to stare at her
nearly-exposed breasts for a moment. "Besides someone who missed her
calling as a first-class call girl." Was that supposed to be a
compliment? "Your two acquaintences mysteriously collapse not long
after seeing you."
  "I haven't seen TJ in three days, and Spence in over a week."
  "So you say. One of them is dead, the other in and out of
conciousness. Docs say they've been poisoned."
  Val paled; had the sapphires somehow done it? But if it was, how did
it affect Spence? Was it contagious or radioactive or something?

  Miguel noticed her reaction; so she did know something. "Spence told
me some interesting things about you."
  Val quickly recovered. If the cops did suspect her, they would have
sent uniforms to arrest her, not a lone detective. "Spence is full of
shit."
  "He said you beat up TJ after slipping him a mickey."
  A mickey? Val wondered. Did anybody really talk like that? "TJ
attacked me three days ago; it was self-defense."
  "There's plenty of evidence here to support that," Miguel gestured
toward the shambles behind Val that had once been a living room.
"Funny, you don't seem any worse for wear." He reached out and traced
his index finger over Val's knee.

  Val wasn't going to sit here and let this worm fondle her. She
squirmed a bit, leaning over to get a better angle and dig herself out
of the couch, but her movements only served to further dishevel her
dress. A button popped off the bottom, growing the split almost to her
crotch. Miguel's eyes followed the button as it bounced off the couch
and onto the floor, rolling to a stop by his foot.

  "I like the new look. Much better than the wannabe-biker-bitch
costumes you've been sporting the last couple of years. You look much
better as the helpless slut. Reminds me of when we first met."

  Val snarled; Miguel smirked.

  "Look, sweetcheeks, if you help me out I can make it easier on you.
Tell me how you did it. Tell me who got you the poison. If you help me
get them I can talk to the DA." He again reached out for her; she
wiggled away, her dress riding up the backs of her thighs with her
efforts. Miguel could see the folds of her sex clearly through the
barely-there gusset of her panties. He licked his lips subconsciously.

  Her revulsion made her bolder. "You don't have shit, do you? You have
no idea what happened. Are you even assigned to the case, or did you
just watch the news and remember seeing me with Spence and TJ on one of
your illegal surveillance outings, and get a boner dreaming up ways to
fuck with me on the way over? Do you even have a warrant? You better
whip that shit out right now or you're looking at Breaking & Entering,
Assault, and False Imprisonment. I'll make sure they bust your ass down
to meter maid, you fucking slime-"

  Slap! 

  The sound, more than the impact, stunned Val to momentary silence.
Miguel stood over her, his arm raised, threatening another blow. His
breathing was fast, his nostrils flaring, his face red. Val could see
he tried to calm himself down. He studied her face, looking for signs
of the mark; she could tell he was relieved.

  "Is that all you've got?" she taunted. Her cheek stung; he must have
really nailed her to feel it the way she did through the sapphires...

  Miguel feinted another slap; Val didn't flinch. "Watch your mouth,
bitch," Miguel said; his tone was ugly. "Who's to say TJ didn't get
more licks in than he did?" He put his hands on his knees, leaning in
until his face was inches from hers. "I *am* the motherfucker assigned
to this case, and I *know* you're involved. Whatever happens here is
your word against mine. Nobody's gonna believe your punk ass; after the
beating you gave TJ I can even claim you attacked me out of nowhere
when I stopped by just to ask you a few questions. So I expect you to
give me a little FUCKING respect and cooperation, or-"

  The front door burst open; Miguel jumped back in surprise. A man he
didn't recognize was standing in the doorway, pointing something at
him. Gun! Miguel reached into his jacket for his holstered Glock...

  ...and felt two pinpricks in his chest. An instant later his whole
body seized up; he shook violently as he struggled to keep his feet.
After two long seconds during which every nerve in his body fired in
continuous distress, he collapsed, spasming uncontrollably before
passing out.


  Andrew tossed the spent tazer to the floor, the tiny wires dancing
like a spider's legs. He watched the man on the floor for a moment to
be sure he was incapacitated, then turned his gaze to the girl on the
couch. Valerie Strain. The girl he'd been tracking for weeks. The girl
who would lead him to Eric.

  He could see why Eric liked her. Long-limbed, smooth skin, with big
dark eyes. Barely-dressed in a pale blue summer dress and high-heeled
sandals that were not in keeping with the attire he'd expect in this
neighborhood, but certainly in keeping with Eric's taste for young and
feminine.


  Val took the opportunity to size up her defender. From her low
position on the couch she couldn't judge his height, but he seemed to
be of average build, in good physical condition. His cream-colored
long-sleeved shirt looked expensively casual; his cargo pants fit well,
no Old Navy specials to be sure; the boots had an authentic
military-issue ruggedness to them -- Lugz they weren't. His light-brown
hair was long on top, short on the sides, in a handsome-if-dated style.
She guessed him to be thirty-one years old. The soft features of his
face belied the hard-as-diamonds look that flashed from his green eyes.


  Andrew noticed the girl checking him out. Sizing him up, no doubt. As
he had her.

  "You should really lock your door in this neighborhood." The stranger
reached down and pulled Val up by the arm until she was standing on her
own two feet.
  "I was moving out anyway," Val responded as she turned around,
looking over her shoulder at her handcuffed wrists.
  The stranger dipped to his knees, searching the still-shaking Rubio
for the handcuff key. "Come on, Valerie, we need to get you out of
here," he said as he unlocked the cuffs.
  "Who are you?"
  "My name is Andrew. I'll tell you more when we're out of here. Grab
your bag and let's go."

  Valerie stepped to her backpack, picking it up without taking her
eyes off the stranger. "Why should I go with you?"
  "Because your boyfriend's gotten you into really deep shit, and I'm
the only one who can get you out of it." He stepped toward the door,
motioning her to follow.

  Things were happening so fast... Valerie had trouble thinking. What
was she doing before all this happened? She looked down at Miguel,
still twitching occasionally. She looked up back to the ransacked
living room. She was leaving. Because somebody was coming to get her?
Who? She didn't know.

  And here was this... *handsome* stranger who came out of nowhere to
rescue her from that prick Miguel. Was he the one after her? But he
said her boyfriend had gotten her into trouble...

  What kind of trouble? What did Bobby have to do with all this? He'd
always seemed so meek, except in bed. Maybe it was an act. He was gone
a lot, and he'd been hanging out with TJ and Spence a lot less
lately... now that she thought about it, she didn't really know
anything at all about him...

  Was this about the sapphires? It had to be... but this Andrew hunk
didn't say anything about sapphires, just Bobby. If he was here to do
something to her, why would he have taken off the handcuffs?

  She was going to split anyway; why not split with him? He said only
he could keep her safe...

  And he *was* *cute*...

  "Okay," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. Andrew noticed a
button fall off the front of her dress; as she strode a little
unsteadily toward him he got a glimpse of a narrow sliver of skin
almost all the way to the waist. Hmm, no bra.

  Her escort's arm reassuring around her shoulder, Valerie walked out
of her apartment for the last time.


  They were halfway across town before she thought to ask any questions.

  "So what's Bobby into?"
  "Eric. Bobby's just an alias. One of many." It occurred to Andrew
that this Valerie could be playing him; after all, he knew she had the
sapphires; indeed, she'd already started shopping them around.
  "Okay, so what'd he do?"
  "He took something that doesn't belong to him."
  "He does that all the time. Wallets, watches, cellphones... unlike TJ
and Spence, he's actually a pretty good pickpocket." Valerie felt all
warm and tingly, like she was drunk. But she'd only had the one
bourbon; even on an empty stomach, she usually held her liquor better
than that. "So what'd he take that got him into so much trouble? And
what makes you think he's after *me*?"
  "I think you know."
  "What do you mean?"
  "The big fat sapphire you've been shopping around."
  Val's heart sank. It was about the sapphires after all. But how was
Bobby involved? And why didn't this guy just take them from her? He
certainly had the chance. Heck, at this point he could almost talk her
into it just by flashing those gorgeous green eyes at her. Val knew he
could talk her into a few other things, anyway...
  "Bobby didn't *give* me tho- that sapphire," she protested, changing
"those" to "that" in midstream -- maybe he didn't know there was more
than one. "I *earned* it." Only after she said it did she realize how
that might sound.

  Andrew stifled a grin. He wondered if she realized how that sounded.
Of course, judging from her flirtatious behavior, maybe it was just
like that. He looked over at her; he could just see her right nipple as
that side of her dress billowed loosely forward. As a plan grew in his
mind, something else grew in his pants...

  "Okay, Valerie, look. Technically, I'm supposed to try to recover the
sapphires. That's right, honey, there's more than one. But the
sapphires are nothing compared to the damage Eric could do if he's not
neutralized." Whoops, he was throwing jargon. "Eric is a spy. One of
ours. Or at least he was before he disappeared. We think he's gone
rogue." Jargon again. "If what he knows got to the wrong person, it
could seriously jeopardize America's foreign relations, maybe even
start a war." Stretching the truth a bit, but whatever worked... "So I
need your help to catch him."

  Valerie's hormones were raging out of control as the three sapphires,
unfocused and nearly expended from a full day of exposure, rapidly
decayed into full-feedback. But through the thickening sexual fog she
recognized a familiar request. Miguel had asked for basically the same
thing years ago. Only this time she had an advantage. The sapphires
would protect her. The sapphires would empower her. In a way, it was an
opportunity for revenge. He was letting her keep the sapphires, wasn't
he?

  She put on her best little-girl voice, which came easily in her
aroused state. "S-so I get to keep the pretty blue diamond?" she asked,
batting her eyelashes.

  She was playing right into his hands. He'd seen better acting in a
porno, yet somehow this PYT was more compelling than Jenna Jameson.
Damn, Andrew, this girl is way over the top. She thinks she's got you
wrapped around her little finger. He felt his cock twitch.  He'd like
to wrap her little fingers around something... Just don't let your
hormones get in the way of the objective. Fuck that, hormones *were*
the objective. He could work a girl when he needed to. Better than that
bastard Eric. It would be especially sweet to turn his own little toy
against him.

  "If you promise to help me. Can you do that?" It was bullshit of
course; he was under strict orders to recover the sapphires. But he was
also expected to do so in a way that made it look like they were lost.
Standard company procedure -- keep anything of value and sell it later
through untraceable channels to supplement the operating budget. And
this girl might be the easiest way to "lose" them.

  "I don't know," Valerie cooed, "what if he finds out I've crossed
him? I'm scared..." she leaned across the big car to rest her head on
his shoulder, her long graceful arm across his chest, slender fingers
tracing lines down his neck.

  "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're safe. You need to be convincing,
but the minute he shows up my team will be all over him." They were at
his place; he turned off the engine. Andrew looked down over her body.
The powder-blue sundress she wore was so thin it was practically
transparent. And seated like she was, and fidgeting like she was, the
hem had crept almost all the way up her thighs. He looked into her
eyes, flashing a smile of tender reassurance. "Can you do that? Can you
be convincing?"

  It was a loaded question.

  And Valerie was trigger-happy.

  "I don't know, can I?," she giggled. Her hand slid down his chest to
settle in his lap. She gave his dick a gentle squeeze.

  Andrew fumbled with his seatbelt latch. "Come on up," he said,
suddenly out of breath.


  His nervous hands fought to hold the key still enough to shove it in
the lock. Finally it was in! He turned the knob and hurried her inside.

  Valerie staggered inside. These sandals are hard to walk in when I'm
drunk, she thought. Suddenly a strong arm encircled her waist and
pulled her down to the bed on top of him. She felt his hard shaft
against her inner thigh, threatening to burn a hole through his pants.
She slid down, sitting on his thighs, her legs tucked under her to
either side of him. Her fingers frantically worked at his belt, zipper,
tugged his pants and underwear down over his ass. He thrust his knees
up, tossing her forward, sliding down his thighs to nestle her
unshrouded clit up against his hot dick; she cried out at the touch.

  She reached down between her legs to tug her panties to one side, but
felt his hands run up under her parted skirt and rip the skimpy garment
apart from behind. He tugged at the shredded pieces until there was
nothing left between them.

  Valerie took control, lifting herself up and guiding his thick cock
between her parted lips as she slowly lowered herself back down...
Andrew's hands found their way up to her breasts, twin cones of
sensitive flesh. After a moment of satisfied stillness, Andrew's pelvis
tilted upward, prompting Valerie into a slow, undulating motion.

  "Nnnngh." The lithe young woman's rhythm was compelling, grinding
away all rational thought, squeezing his rock-hard resolve. Andrew
struggled not to let thinking slip away; he had to focus on the
mission...

  "So how do you get a hold of him?"
  "Oh... fffuck! Yeah, that's it!... he calls me, or he drops by...
sometimes I go see him..."
  "Y-you know where-" how could he think when she did that thing with
her hips? "Wh-where he's staying?"
  Val was puzzled; why was Andrew surprised? And why didn't he just
shut up and fuck her? Men... always *working*...
  "Yeah, he's staying inn- ngh, ohhh! -in this guy's house while he's
in Europe."
  "Is that why you s-s-s-shit, yeah, baby! --s-stopped talking to him
online?"
  "Ohh- ohh- ohh- onn-line?" She was confused. Like with a computer?
Bobby didn't know the first thing about computers. Even Val knew more
than he did...
  "Y-yeah, in ch-ch-chat! Chat! Chat!" His hip thrusts had become
small, staccato stabs, struggling to keep pace with her frantic rocking.
  "We've never done that. I don't even h-h-have a c-c-cum... pewter!"
  She could tell he was getting close... he suddenly had that same pale
look TJ had.
  "Wh-wh-whu...huh?" He opened his eyes and looked down at her, as if
seeing her for the first time.

  Oh, ffucckh, it's not her... but... how? Who? The gemstones...?

  Andrew noticed in the dim light of twilight, the space between them
took on a bluish hue... the belt slung around her waist seemed to be
glowing... he feebly fingered one of the lockets. Sapphires! One
here... and another there... But... sapphires don't glow...

  Just as she realized this was all some kind of bizarre mix-up, Val
felt him slacken beneath her. "Oh no, lover, don't you give up on me!"
She leaned forward, her sweaty tits sliding up and down his chest. His
eyes rolled back; she was losing him... but she was already over the
edge herself...

  Val screamed as her whole body shuddered in orgasm; her pussy clamped
down on Andrew's cock, her uncontrollable shaking rubbing the head
against the roughness of her g-spot; it responded with a life all its
own, erupting inside her and eliciting one last pelvic thrust as it
seemed to drain all remaining will right out of the man.

  After several minutes spent gently squeezing Andrew's softening
member with her muscles and nuzzling her tender clit in his fuzz of
pubic hair, Valerie pushed herself up off the weakened man's chest.

  "Looks like Valerie Strain was too much for you, Andy baby... Hope
you have better luck catching your man."


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  "No!" Andrew cried out, scaring himself awake. What a nightmare...
oh, fuck. Andrew tried to get up off the floor, but his limbs failed
him; he felt dizzy, nauseous, weak.

  Fuck. He'd lost her. She'd slipped him something, somehow, and...
"distracted" him long enough for it to take effect. And now she was
gone.

  He was fucked.

  Andrew's arms and legs flailed in furious frustration.

  "Fuck!"


------------------------------------------------------------------------


  Fang Manxie stepped into the apartment, slipping past the half-open
door.

  There on the floor lay a man. Mid-thirties, tanned skin, dark wiry
hair, possibly Hispanic, perhaps South American. Not-quite-right
goatee. He was mumbling something. A pair of wires were stuck to his
chest; Max pulled them out quickly. The man was coming to.

  Max bent down to help the man to the couch. He looked around the
apartment; it looked like a fierce fight had taken place here.

  "Where is Valerie?" he asked.


  Miguel Rubio rubbed his chest. God damn it, those tazers *hurt*. He
looked around. The girl was gone. He was sitting on the couch. Some
Asian guy dressed all in black was standing over him. Tazer Guy? No,
Tazer Guy was white. 


  "Where is Valerie?" Max repeated.
  "I dunno. Some guy came and helped her escape," the man grumbled. He
seemed stiff. Sore. He was clearly on the losing end of whatever had
happened here.


  "Who are you?" Rubio asked pointedly. "How do you know Valerie?"


  Max felt the amulet vibrating. He put his hand in his pocket and
gripped it tightly. He noticed the man stiffen when his hand slipped
into the pocket. He probably suspected a weapon. Max put his hand
reassurringly on the man's shoulder...

  The image hit him suddenly, but wasn't as disorienting as before.
This man had come in contact with Valerie very recently. He saw a
long-limbed girl sitting rather ungracefully on a couch -- this couch.
He felt anger, fear, excitement, arousal? The feelings were vague;
perhaps they had not had much contact. Then one last flash -- another
man. Green eyes. Wires. Burning. Then nothing. The amulet was still.
"There is nothing worth remembering here," he intoned.


  Rubio felt queasy; that tazer had taken a lot out of him. He looked
up at the... wasn't there a man standing right there a second ago? How
long had he been sitting here? Damn, now he was seeing things.

  Rubio pulled out his cellphone. The display was all black. Damn. He
got up unsteadily and reached for the phone on the kitchen counter.

  "Dispatch. Rubio here. I checked out that lead on the James case.
Nothin' worth rememberin' here. I'm headin' home now, I'll file first
thing in the morning. Tox screen won't be ready until then anyway.
Yeah. Bye."

  Rubio pulled out an evidence bag and dropped the tazer in it. He
didn't know who Val's accomplice was, but he was going to find out.

  But first, he needed to get something to stop the pounding in his
head...


   


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