Breaking Point

She unbuttoned her blouse while she straddled me. She flung her bra on the floor and put my hands on her tits.

"Touch me Max," she said.

I knew where. I grasped an erect nipple between my thumb and forefinger. I gave it a squeeze. She sucked in her breath.

"That's it babe," she said to me. I could tell it was the right spot. Her thighs squeezed against me. A reaction to the burst of pleasure she felt.

She reached down and unbuttoned my pants while I fondled her breasts. I lifted my hips to allow her to slip my pants and panties to my ankles. I kicked them off. Her hands were already on my wet pussy.

"Open your legs," she said to me. She was too eager and so was I.

I lifted my knees so now her face was over my inviting cunt.

"You smell good Max," she said, as if she was evaluating me like a fine wine. Then she licked me. A long swipe of her tongue. Her tongue pressed hard against my clit as she dragged the nubby skin over it.

I let out a good long "Oh fuckkkkkkkk." It was feeling too good, too fast.

I think she sensed that. She took her lips off me. I made a disapproving grunt.

"You taste even better," she said. She went back for more. My back lifted off the bed. I pushed my pussy as hard as I could against her face. She was sucking air hard, trying to breathe and trying to get me off before she passed out. She was winning the war. Her tongue was dancing on my clit. My head was rocking back and forth like a metronome. She put her hands on the back of my thighs and raised my knees up and pushed them back, almost to my chin. Her sloppy wet tongue rimmed my asshole, giving me a thorough reaming.

"Fuck yeah," I growled. I was into ass play and she was my playmate. She knew she had me.

"Better than Sky?" she whispered in my ear.

I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. At least not yet. "Do it again and I'll let you know," I said.

A yummy second helping. Her soft lips brushing against my meaty cheeks and her tongue dancing between them and skillfully rimming my ass. My hand was drawn to the heat between my legs, rubbing my clit between two fingers. It was a sweet rhythm, her tongue and my fingers. I took in a deep breath.

"Fuckkking shitttt!" I yelled out. I'm sure I turned heads in the Royal Palms parking lot. She took me to the peak of the mountain again before letting me down.

She let me settle into the bed, content. I was basking in a warm, enveloping afterglow. She cupped one of my breasts to feel its weight against her hand. She sucked on my nipple and gave me a look with those devilish eyes.

"I think you let me know," she said. "And everyone in the parking lot."

* * *

I was sure it got around the station that I took Angela to my place. There were too many prying eyes at the Landing Point. Word would certainly get back to Sky. Fuck it. She's the one who ended it. Really. By showing her true colors. What difference would it make if I slept with someone else? She'd hate my guts regardless, so why should I do without? My conscience was clear.

I was enjoying my morning cup of Joe with Lesley in the break room. Odette's morning briefing was going to start any minute. I hadn't finished my first cup when Sky appeared out of the ether. I looked up and there she was, looking down on me with a disapproving look.

"Fuck," I thought.

"Angela?... really?"

There were a handful of cops hanging out drinking coffee that snickered when they saw Sky confronting me. They stopped talking and were unabashedly looking at us and listening.

"We should go outside," I said calmly.

"So we can talk about why you fucked Angela?"

It suddenly became dead silent. I could hear the water in the dishwasher churning. Word of this confrontation would circulate through the station at light speed.

"We're not together anymore," I pointed out. That was apparently exactly the wrong thing to say.

"You ended it, not me. And not more than a day after you dump me you're fucking some whore who tends bar?"

"Stop it Sky. Stop it now," I told her. Lesley got up and backed away from the table.

"You guys have to take this outside," Lesley told the two of us.

"I'm done," said Sky. She wheeled around to leave, but before she did she added, "with you."

* * *

I went to the restroom to freshen up and at the same time calm myself after my confrontation with Sky. Even though I was trying to appear calm, I was a nervous wreck after Sky's final kiss-off. I opened the door to the large conference room. It was packed. Odette was in the middle of her morning briefing and talking about something going on in the West End. I took one of the remaining seats in the back, between two big male police officers. I could barely squeeze in.

She looked up and could see I was late arriving. "Good to see you Max," Odette said sarcastically.

There were scattered chuckles in the audience. I'm sure they all knew exactly what happened in the break room that made me tardy.

"Maybe I should shift over to the fraternization policy..." Odette said, waiting for a laugh. She got a hearty one at my expense.

We had a no fraternization policy that exactly no one followed, even the higher-ups.

Then Odette started talking about Jumbo Williams.

"So we've found out about Collins Holdings," Odette said. So she was working on our lead too. Sky was stumped. Odette figured it out.

"I can see I got your attention Max," she said. More laughs.

I nodded. What else could I do but take the ribbing? It was all on me.

"Turns out Adine Williams's maiden name is Collins. He's behind Collins Holdings. We're assuming Jumbo ordered the hit on Lily."

Adine Williams. Jumbo's mother. I had to let that sink in. He was my initial suspect in Lily's murder because he'd benefit most from having her out of the way. But the ferocity of the Russians convinced me otherwise.

"It wasn't just the Russians?" someone asked over the buzz in the crowd.

"No," Odette said. "They wouldn't know the details of the Cincinnati drug trade. The killers knew all the details of Lily's operation, and who would be there at that time of day. They caught all the principals in one place. You only get that kind of info with inside information. Jumbo had those kinds of connections. The Russians didn't. We now believe that Jumbo provided the intelligence the Russians used in carrying out the hit."

Her statement made perfect sense. So it was Golden Spirit and Collins Holdings. The Russians and Jumbo made for an unlikely, and dangerous, couple.

* * *

I couldn't resist going to the Landing Point that evening. Angela was working that night. The 1980's vintage sodium vapor lights were still in the parking lot, bathing me in an eerie yellow light. Before I got out of my Honda Civic I pulled down the visor and checked my make-up in the mirror. Make-up? Yeah, I wore it for her. I had to up my game.

I swung open the heavy wood plank door to the bar and peeked in. Angela was behind the bar jawing with a regular there, a woman I recognized from Internal Affairs. I didn't care for anyone in IA. Those motherfuckers were the stealth police. When they surfaced, there was trouble, and I'd already had more than one tangle with that group. Odette warned me that they were gunning for me again.

I walked straight to the bar, inching between two seated customers to get Angela's attention. I signaled her with a finger although it wasn't necessary. I'm sure she noticed me the moment I set foot I the bar. Bartenders had eyes everywhere. So the woman in IA wasn't so happy I interrupted their conversation. She gave me a dirty look. Angela gave me a look with those amazing green eyes that told me I should wait. She went back into her conversation hot and heavy with the IA woman.

I was never good at waiting. I leaned against the bar with my hand, uncomfortably standing between two seated customers in barstools. They started having a conversation between them, which made it even more awkward to stand there. After a minute, I decided to get Angela's attention to tell her that I'd sit in my usual table in the back and wait for her.

I abandoned my place at the bar and stood behind the woman who was talking with Angela. She whirled around in her barstool when she sensed my presence behind her. Fuck. It was Constance Munger, the head of IA. She was good looking for a fifty-year-old. The skin on her face was naturally tight. She had shoulder length bleach blonde hair and a good figure kept up by a rigorous training regime. Talk around the department was that she was a lesbian. You know the jokes that revolve around "Connie Lingus", so it bugged the shit out of her when someone called her Connie. She wanted to be called Constance. You called her Connie at your own peril. She was none too pleased to see me.

"What do you want here Pemberton? Can't you see I'm busy?" she barked at me. As the head of IA, she always got her way. Word around the station was that IA could rip your heart out of your chest and make you eat it. To her, I was just a tiny piece of shit under her shoe. Her eyes glowed red when she addressed me.

"Just wanted to tell Angela something..., "I started to say.

"You guys girlfriends or something?" Constance asked, pointing to Angela and then me. Her tongue went between the "V" of two of her fingers. She wiggled the tip of it, like she was eating pussy.

I started to stutter. Angela spoke up.

Angela was polishing a glass with a bar towel when she talked. Her eyes never left her task. "We've hooked up once," she said cooly.

"Once? Talk around the station is that you're fuck buddies, am I not right?" She said it in a loud voice, and the cops from the station that were nearby laughed.

She had already hit "ten" on the Max meter of rage.

"Fuck off... Connie," I spit back.

I think I shocked her with my double insult. No one told her to fuck off. She was the one that told people to fuck off, and they did.

Constance slid off her barstool and stood toe to toe with me. She was an inch or two shorter than me but all muscle. She worked out like a fiend when she wasn't busting the heads of nonconformists like me.

"You want a piece of me?" Constance asked. Everyone around us was watching. All conversation had ceased.

Kris barreled through the crowd. She ran the bar, and she ran it with authority.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, pushing her way between me and Constance.

"Just a friendly conversation Kris. That's allowed in here, isn't it?" Constance asked. She said it in a tone that made clear that there was no love lost between her and Kris. I would have bought tickets to a caged match between the two of them.

"I don't think making threats in my bar is friendly," Kris said to Constance. They were staring at each other.

Without taking her eyes off Kris, Constance asked me a question.

"I wasn't making any threat, was I Max?"

I sighed. There was nothing to be gained by escalating this conflict.

"No Constance, you weren't. Kris, it was just a misunderstanding," I said.

Kris put her hands in the pocket of her apron and backed away from us.

"OK, if you say so Max. But I won't have fighting in my bar. You ladies understand that?"

"Uh huh," said Constance. I nodded my head.

"Well OK," said Kris. "Carry on."

She left.

Constance wasn't done with me. She put her arm around me, draping it over my shoulder like we were good buddies. "You're not going to fuck with me, are you Max?" she asked real nice-like.

"I wouldn't dream of it Constance. No one fucks with IA or with you."

"You just told me to fuck off and you used a name that I don't recognize as mine. I think that's fucking with me."

"You're right," I admitted. "But you had it coming. I just wanted a few seconds with Angela, and you were dead set on confronting me."

"Fucking right I was," she said back. "Everyone in the station knows you're a royal fuck up and I'm going to prove it."

Everyone within earshot heard that. That would get around the station in, like two seconds.

"I'll be in the back," I shouted out to Angela and over Constance. I pointed to my table at the back of the bar. I turned around to leave.

"Oh Pemberton," Constance asked me in a sweet voice.

"Yes?" I asked back in my annoyed voice.

"Skylar Hobson is transferring..."

I didn't know that.

"Where?" I asked.

"To IA, of course. We only recruit the best."

* * *

After that confrontation I really wasn't in the mood to go home with anyone. I had a drink at my table and then said goodbye to Angela for the night. That left me alone for a good two more hours, and my way of passing that kind of time was television and drinking. The Reds game was on TV. All I needed was a couple pints of vodka and a six pack of beer.

My usual liquor haunt was hopping. Nigel was there. A tall, thin good-natured Brit with a charming gap-toothed smile. He was the first guy to stick around at the liquor store for any length of time. Most clerks didn't last more than a few weeks. They were three deep at the liquor counter loading up for the night. Gang banger wannabees and high schoolers with fake ID's were crowded around an overloaded clerk, who was working alone.

"Excuse me, one at a time," Nigel said to competing voices.

One of the gang banger types hopped over the counter to help himself.

"Excuse me sir..." Nigel started to say when he was shoved rudely backwards. He stumbled and caught himself by grabbing the edge of the counter.

The banger helped himself to two premium fifths of whiskey and sashayed around the end of the counter.

"Thanks ol' chap," the punk said, waving the bottles and heading towards the exit with two of his buddies. He hadn't paid and had no intention of doing so.

I stepped between him and the door. "Excuse me old bean, do you have a receipt for that whiskey?" I asked, pointing to the bottles he'd handed to one of his henchmen.

I was in my civvies, in fact a pair of black jeans and a tight-fitting black t-shirt.

"Excuse me... bitch. Why don't you and your big titties just get out of my way?"

That wasn't the right answer.

"Receipt please," I said calmly.

"Here's my fucking receipt," he said, reaching behind him in his waistband. I knew it was a handgun, a Glock if I wasn't mistaken when I saw him before.

"Here's my fucking knee," I said. I put my hand behind his neck and kneed him in the groin. The force of the blow raised him a couple inches off the ground.

"Oooof," he grunted, before he doubled over in pain.

His two buddies took an aggressive stance, wanting to get a piece of me.

"I'm off duty Cincinnati police. Either of you losers want to fuck with me?" I asked.

They decided that wouldn't be a good idea.

"Gimme," I said to the punk holding the bottles.

He handed them over.

"Now get," I said.

Everyone at the counter, including Nigel, were watching the proceedings. They formed an orderly line. I got in line at the end. A few minutes later I was at the front of the line.

"That was some good work," said Nigel. "Remind me never to mess with you."

"You're welcome," I said. "Usual for me please."

"You mean two bottles of that rotgut you drink," he said.

"Nigel, I just dispatched two of your unruly customers. Don't I deserve a bit more respect?" I asked him, though in a joking manner. I went over to the cooler and got a six pack of longnecks.

"You're right Max. The inexpensive spirits you like are on the way. He climbed up one of those old-fashioned rolling ladders and pulled two bottles off the top shelf. He blew the dust off them before he plopped them on the counter.

"Special close-out. This vodka been collecting dust ever since I started here. You can have them for a buck each."

I took a ten out of my billfold. "Thanks Nigel."

He bagged and handed me the bottles and the six pack.

"Thanks Officer Max."

* * *

Drinking alone isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be. I flipped on the Reds game and popped open a beer. The Reds were up 3-0 going into the eighth. Best part of the game. The cold beer tasted good after a quick work out on that punk's crotch. I was watching the game but absorbing what Constance had told me. Sky was in IA. She knew where all my skeletons were buried. Would she out me on my shooting of Kreshnevsky? She saw me do it.

If my life wasn't complicated enough already.

A few more beers to bring more clarity to my thought. I was starting to figure out a strategy to dealing with Constance, and Sky, when someone knocked on my door. I checked my phone. Nine-thirty. Too late for a casual visit. I peeked out the curtain. It was Angela, carrying a brown paper bag.

I opened the door to let her in. She was wearing a black leather skirt and jacket and zip up black boots. A cool breeze followed her. Both gave me a shiver.

She pulled out a bottle from the bag. It was fine scotch.

"Fifteen year. Got any glasses?" she asked.

I went to the bathroom and pulled out two plastic cups that were sealed in plastic wrap.

"Nice glassware," she said. She ripped off the wrappers and threw them in a perfect arc into my wastebasket.

She made a healthy pour in each cup.

"Salut," she said, as we toasted.

"What brings you here?" I asked after I had my first satisfying sip.

She looked at me and batted her eyes.

"Sex," she said.

"That's available," I answered.

"Good," she said, unbuttoning her blouse. She bent over to unzip her boots. While staring at the ground she added, "so who's available?"

"Why me," I said with mock indignation.

"There's no one you keep in the back?" she asked.

"Sorry, it's just me."

She stood in front of me and helped me pull my t-shirt over my head. She reached behind me to take off my bra.

She lifted one of my breasts before she sucked on the nipple.

"Well, these will have to do," she said.

"Ummm," I said. "Is this kind of house call provided for all of the customers of the Landing Point?"

"Nope, just you," she said between sucks.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why not?"

She had a point.

"Much as I love your yummy tits, you have something else that I want."

"What's that?" I asked as I unzipped my pants and dropped them to the floor.

"I think you've figured it out."

I slipped off my panties and sat on the bed. She knelt in front of me. I spread my legs open for her.

"See anything interesting?" I asked.

She peered closer. I could feel her hot breath on my pussy.

"A couple things."

"It's self-service," I said.

She dipped her head between my legs. Her tongue zeroed in on my clit, which was starving for her attention.

"Oh yes," I said. Her swirling tongue and soft, wet lips were lifting my hips off the bed. Her tongue snaked inside me while her finger found my asshole. She worked her finger inside me as she ate me out.

"Oh..."

An orgasm ripped through me like a freight train.

"Angela..."

* * *

Angela poured two more glasses of scotch, emptying the bottle. She tossed the dead soldier in the waste basket.

"Here's the last one for the night," she said to me, handing me my drink. We were both buck naked. It was past midnight. She'd spent the last hour (or was it two?) making love to me.

I savored the fine scotch. It went down smooth and clean, with no burn.

"It's your turn," I said to her. "Do you want to hear about today's specials?"

Angela cupped one of my breasts, just because she wanted to.

"Uh huh," she answered, although she was fixated on my breast and not on what I was saying.

"We have fried chicken. Lots of breast meat," I said. "It can be served as an appetizer or as a main course."

I leaned over and gave her nipple a quick suck.

"Very nice. What else?"

I pinched one of the cheeks on her fine ass.

"We're also featuring tongue. We serve it wherever you'd like."

"And for dessert?" she asked.