Diane's Desire Ch. 03

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Thursday morning. A gorgeous June day. The sun had been up for hours by the time Diane got out of bed. The house was empty; her folks off to work and she had the whole place to herself. After peeing, she debated whether to take a shower first and then eat, or the other way around.

Looking at herself in the mirror, her pajama tops still on, her bottoms discarded in front of the toilet, her thoughts drifted back, for maybe the thousandth time, to the weekend with Johnno. Gawd that was great. She hadn't figured fucking him was going to be sooo different from Harrison, but it was like a completely different experience. That, and fucking him in the ass. That was great! She squirmed only a little at her lack of discipline: she had said she wasn't ready to fuck him, that their relationship was almost too familiar, and then...she just let him. She shook her head, looking at herself, wondering what was happening to her.

She smiled, coming to a decision: She'd eat first. The thought of Saturday night with Johnno had stiffened her nipples and she danced her fingers lightly across them. She'd breakfast in the nude, on the back porch. There wasn't a soul around, the sun was out, and she was feeling free and a little wild. The thought of Johnno's drones (they were now Johnno's drones to her) crossed like a shadow across her bright mood for a moment: would he be spying on her? She laughed the idea off with her pajama tops and went downstairs to eat.

She had errands to run for her mom, and it was getting late, almost noon! Sipping her juice, feeling the sun on her bare skin, she thought life was great. Not a care in the world. A light breeze cooled her, a drop of sweat beaded on her back and rolled down. She looked down at her body, thinking about Johnno's lips on her breasts. Her eyes drifted to her bush, watching the breeze waft her fur slightly, thinking about the difference between the two men she had let penetrate her.

Her reverie was broken by a knock on the door. She quickly got up and ran to get something to cover herself up. Who could be knocking at this time of day? She scooped up a button-down shirt hanging on the stair rail, one of her dad's she noted, and buttoned it down, hoping it was long enough to cover her.

She peeked through the window. On the front porch stood a man. He was big, she noticed with some alarm, but he was well-dressed and carrying a brief case. She studied him a little more before answering. The suit looked like he had slept in it -- it was wrinkled and didn't fit him all that well. The brief case had scratches across its face and two of the corners she could see were buckled. He was middle aged and looked tired, like he had been up all night. His face looked annoyed, as if an errand he had to finish at the end of a long day was preventing him from going home to a shower and a bed. She wasn't scared, just a little nervous. His...whole presence was out of place for such a sunny day. She struggled to figure out who it might be: an insurance salesman? She looked at the car parked in front of the house - an old full-sized Chevy sedan. Traveling salesman?

"Yes?" She asked through the door.

"Hello, ma'am. Is Diane Shelton home?" His voice was polite and formal.

"May I ask who's inquiring?"

"Yes ma'am. It's Detective Lawrence. County Sherrif's office. I was wondering if I could ask her a couple of questions."

Shit! Her first thought was Harrison had gotten himself into trouble and somehow incriminated her.

"Hold on Detective, I'll be right there." She ran upstairs, slipped on her sweatpants and raced down again. "Come in, Detective, I'm Diane." She opened the door and pointed to the living room.

"Thank you ma'am. I appreciate you taking the time. This shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, I hope. I just had a couple of questions regarding an incident last night. Your name came up, and I was hoping you might be able to help us answer a question or two."

She pointed him to a couch offering him a glass of water before finding a seat herself.

"Are you familiar with a Harrison Petersburg?"

A cold chill hit her stomach. "Yes," she answered carefully.

"Well, it seems Mr. Petersburg has gotten himself into a bit of trouble recently. Apparently, he's been seen with several young women in the area, and in some cases, just a little too young. Do you mind my asking how old you are Diane?"

"I'm 18, Detective. How many women has he been dating?" Best to change the subject as quickly as possible.

"Well, we're not sure if he's 'dating' anyone, Diane. Were you dating him?"

Fuck! I'm so stupid!!! She looked at him and didn't answer.

"It's not all that important, except, you see, he's likely to be in some trouble with at least a couple of the women. They've come forward after they received some photographs of Mr. Petersburg having sex with them." He sat back, combing his fingers through his hair. She noticed his coat flop open briefly exposing a gun in a holster. She controlled a shiver.

"Photographs? He took photographs of having sex?" She expressed as much disgust and surprise as she could muster, not knowing where this was going.

"It appears so. Although, we are a bit puzzled. Some of the pictures were taken outside and from an odd angle. We think he might have had an accomplice. But we can't figure out why a public figure would want any photographs, let alone involve a third party." He looked at her as if to ask if she had any insight to shed on the problem.

She waited a moment to see if he had anything further to add. "You said my name got mentioned last night?"

"Yes, ma'am. We were discussing the photographs with one of the women and she said she thought you might have been seeing Mr. Petersburg. We're just following up, you see. We thought you might have something you could add to the case. When did you and Mr. Petersburg start seeing each other?"

He was leading her down an uncomfortable path. "Ummm," she stalled momentarily - tell the truth or not? "About three months ago, I think." She curled her legs under her on the seat.

"And when did you turn 18?"

"April. I'm a fool." She always said it, so it slipped out without thinking.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Stupid. April 1^st. I just...it...never mind."

"So, you were of legal age when you started going out with him?" He opened the briefcase and removed a small notebook on which he starting jotting down notes. He looked up.

"It wasn't like that, Detective..." She didn't like where this was going at all.

"And when did you start having sex with him?" He asked it as if he was asking what shampoo she used.

"Whaaat?" She hadn't expected the question, and was confused by what her answer should be. "Who says I was having sex with him? And besides, I don't understand where that's any of your business, Detective!" It suddenly occurred to her that Harrison could have set this whole thing up. Fuck! What if this is a trap? Her heart started pounding twice as hard.

"Ah. Well, see here's where we have a small problem. We know Mr. Petersburg was having sex with underage girls, and if Mr. Petersburg was having sex with you while you were a minor, it's a matter of the state's interest, and therefore a matter of interest to me. When did you and Mr. Petersburg begin having sex, Diane?" He asked it again, this time a little more gently, but with clear intent.

"As I told you, we didn't start seeing each other until May, and I turned 18 in April. But I'm afraid you have some wrong information. I don't know who suggested we were having sex at all!"

"We can play it that way, if you'd like." He looked her up and down. "Frankly, he'd have to be a faggot or a complete fool to not have sex with you, but if you want to go that way, so be it. 'Course, some of the pictures we have might bear a slight resemblance to you." He smiled sheepishly.

Her gut felt like it had been punched. He was fucking with her. He knew. He had pictures. Somehow, he had gotten a hold of some pictures. How?! Shit! She didn't want Johnno in trouble over this. Fuck.

"Okay, Diane. Let's do it this way. Why don't you take a few moments to collect your thoughts and we'll look at these photographs together. Would that work for you?" He didn't say it as a question, but more of a directive. He pulled a manila envelope out of the briefcase.

Her eyes locked on the envelope. Damn, if I see one more envelope this week, I'm going to scream. "Detective," she uncurled her legs, concealing her growing panic. "Is that really necessary? I'm sure I don't know anything about any photographs, and if you think Harrison was having sex with an underage girl, then I guess you need to do what you need to do. He and I are through. He can rot in jail for all I care." She got up, hoping to see him to the door. How did he get those photographs? I thought Johnno was smarter than this! She reconsidered whether this was a trap set by Harrison. No way Johnno would have sent him all of those photographs. She could only imagine how many there were, based on how thick the envelope was.

He continued to fiddle with the envelope, stopping only to stare at her. It wasn't a pleasant look. "I don't think I've been very clear here, Diane. Y'see, if you are aware of Mr. Petersburg having sex with underage girls, you could be charged as an accomplice. We don't know how he established his relationships. Since you and he were seeing each other, you might be of great help to the investigation. Also, while you've suggested you didn't start seeing him until after you had turned 18, it's possible you might be...mistaken." He paused to look at her face.

She saw his exhaustion and watched as he scanned her from head to toe. The idea of how big he was, and the gun, and now, his quiet threats, overwhelmed her; she shivered and couldn't stop.

"I can see how this is upsetting you. I'm sorry." He sat back and took a sip of water. "Maybe you didn't even know he was seeing other women. If that's the case, I can see my sharing that information could be very disturbing. But here's the thing, Diane," he continued, sitting forward. "If he and you were having sex while you were an adult, that's none of my business, but if you were underage, the state obligates me to charge him. Now, it's possible some of these photographs we have are of you. We think they might be. But we do have photographs going back to April, so you can see how we are in a grey area here."

She rocked a little from foot to foot, trying to breathe as normally as possible when her heart was practically punching its way out of her chest.

"Maybe you could look at them and tell us if any of them are you, one way or the other. If they aren't, you're off the hook, but if they are, we'd be very interested in you helping our case." He began to remove a stack of photographs and laid them on the table.

She could see the figure of a young woman, spread eagled, Harrison's face buried between her legs. Is that me??? She felt the blush moving up her neck, as much from anger as embarrassment, and to her surprise, a little arousal. Where is that coming from? She turned and peered her head over the table, interested in seeing if it was her.

"Have a seat." He moved over to let her sit in front of the stack.

She let out a sigh of relief; she didn't recognize the woman, but there were several shots. Harrison eating her. Harrison stripping her, holding her nipples, her naked, him fully clothed. She could feel his fingers on her nipples - she loved it when he did that, and she felt her juices beginning to flow. This is insane! How could he do this to me! She looked at the date and realized he had been fucking this woman two weeks before he had been fucking her -- end of April. She grew livid and turned the photo.

The next was a woman she knew from around. A waitress at one of the pubs. Very cute, redhead. Again, photographs of her and Harrison fucking, this time doggie style, his hands pulling on her shoulders, his cock buried deep into her. She crossed her legs unconsciously, the movement catching Detective Lawrence's eye. The series continued, the woman tied to a tree the same tree she had been at? Her naked body exposed to the camera; Harrison's erection clearly visible as he faced her. Again the date caught her eye. He had been having affairs before and throughout their time together. A tear of anger began to form in her eye. She shook it off.

She turned the next sheet over and stopped. There she was, face down, her back to the camera, her hair flailing, Harrison's face in ecstasy. She didn't dare react, but she feared she already had.

"He seemed to enjoy the same location and positions," the detective interrupted her thoughts. "We have about fifty shots of him, in the same six places with several different girls...I mean women...well, actually girls in some cases. Is this you, Diane?"

She had turned the sheet and saw herself again, and again her face was hidden, but it was obvious it was her...to her. At least the date was in May!

"Detective. I've never seen these before in my life." She had to think of something to get him out of here. She was getting steamed up looking at herself and at Harrison fucking those women, and she definitely didn't want to get involved with this. "Where did you get these?"

"Well, that's the strangest part. The girls called us. They all said the photographs came in the mail to them, and every one of them thought Mr. Petersburg had sent them. They had all thought he was just being kinky, until they saw that there were other women. A couple even made the connection to him and possible statutory rape charges. Most of them were understandably upset. We're still trying to figure out who took the photos. It was obviously not Mr. Petersburg despite his preference for certain locations and...positions." He looked up at her, again implying she could shed some light on the situation.

All of the ideas she had had about dealing with Harrison on her own terms blew away as she faced the reality of what would happen to her. She really didn't want to get involved, and she really didn't want to get Johnno in trouble. Harrison was an asshole and it was obvious he was going to be in deep shit with or without her. There was no reason to make it any more difficult for herself. But how did the girls get the photos? Would Johnno do that? It was the only conclusion she could come to.

She felt his hand on her shoulder and she stiffened.

"I know this must be very difficult for you. I want you to take all the time you need. If you'd like to keep these and think about them further, I can leave you copies. We have plenty back at the office. I can come back this evening, if you'd like, perhaps chat with your parents about it?" He rubbed his hand down her shoulder blades and she realized how defenseless she was. Fuck!

"Uhhmm, no...I don't think that will be necessary. Let me look at a few more." She didn't move away from his hand, and he didn't stop his comforting motion. Her mind was completely confused. What was he doing? Was he going to rape her? Was he really a detective? Fuck! She started to feel the first sense of fear growing in her, and was shocked to feel arousal growing with it. What was that about?! The idea returned that it was a trap Harrison was setting for her. But that would mean Johnno had sent him a ton of photos and he wouldn't have done that, would he???

She turned another photograph and there was her face, plain as day staring up at the camera. Before she could stop herself, she looked up at him; he had been waiting, his eyes clearly watching her face, not the picture, his eyebrows raised.

"We know that one is of you, of course, but what of it? It's just your face and shoulders. We're not sure what you're doing, or who you're with."

She looked again and realized her mistake. She had given herself away. The picture was completely innocent, but in that moment she had blown it. Fuck! She saw the date and realized it was in April, but at least after the 1^st. Still, it was earlier than she had realized. Did we start dating in April? The date rattled her, her thoughts a complete swirl.

"What do you want?" She asked, defeated. As she asked it, she realized it could be interpreted in any number of ways, and again she was shocked to feel a stab of arousal at the thought he would take it the wrong way. She realized her nipples were stiffening and she was certain he could see them through the thin material of the shirt, but she didn't dare risk looking down. She looked back at his face and saw his eyes travel to her chest. Shit!

"We can play this a couple of ways. It's your choice. I can see this has upset you, and for that I'm sorry. First, I have to ask you: have you received any pictures like this?"

She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the photograph.

"Okay. Personally, I'd like to keep you out of it. You seem like a nice kid. Like you said, you're of age and we can't really get involved with two consenting adults, in spite of Mr. Petersburg's public standing. You don't seem all that interested in pressing charges, plus, we have enough other girls willing to go after him, so we can make this go away." His hand had stopped at the bottom of her back, and his fingers began to trail across her skin exposed there. She shivered a little.

"What do you want?" She asked it again, only this time the fear was starting to show. "What do you mean 'we can make this go away?'"

"Look, I can just tell them you didn't own up to the pictures and we'll take you off the list." His hand slowly lifted the shirt, his fingers drifting up the bones of her spine. She straightened her back at his touch - a movement that thrust her breasts forward even more. She didn't know which way to go: give into him or stop it right now. The fact that she was even considering letting him take advantage of her shocked her.

It was as if two voices were going on in her head. One was screaming STOP! This is rape! Call for help! STOP! And the other was describing how delicious it would be to feel his cock inside her, that she was so desirable she could even get a complete stranger to fuck her in no time flat. Her hesitation let him continue his motions with his hands, and the feeling of his fingers on her skin only made her inner debate more heated.

"Don't hurt me, please." She was struggling to not freak out, and at the same time horrified at her growing arousal. She stole a glance at his crotch to see if he had an erection.

He noticed and their eyes met. He had gentle eyes and there was no threat in his face. If anything, she seemed to see a longing, as if he had been staring at these photographs and hoping. His hands moved to the bottom button of the shirt and moved up until he had undone them all. Her shirt hung open from her waist to her neck. She sat still, not stopping him, not helping him, swallowing and listening to the inner battle raging, barely audible over the roaring of blood in her ears. She was almost curious to see which way it would play out, as if she had no say in the matter. Inaction, she realized, was as much a decision as anything else.

He slipped the shirt off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. Slowly he ran his thumb down from her collarbone, rubbing lightly on the skin of her right breast, until he reached her nipple. He stopped to pinch it slightly between his thumb and index finger. He moved his other hand to the same position and held her that way until she whimpered slightly, her lips open, her eyes glued to his.

She uncrossed her legs and realized she had oozed wetness onto the sweats; she was certain the stain was visible but she didn't dare look.