Eyes Only Ch. 01

He looked over, seeing the Satyr now fucking his intern Chandra's black-fringed pussy, the young woman's big breasts ricocheting up and down her chest as the incredibly hung stud vigorously fucked her with deep, stabbing thrusts until she moaned and then came hard. The Queen of Opposition Research was fingering her own pussy as she watched the young couple rutting lustily...

Gor-don groaned and slammed his cock into Katherine's cunt, and began firing thick ropes of hot jism against the older woman's cervix and cuntwalls. Katherine felt the man-snake between her legs throbbing as he emptied his essence into her eagerly receptive quim before the energy left him and he almost collapsed, spent and wilting.

"Okay, Clark," Katherine said, "slide your dick in my sloppy pussy. Fuck that punk load right out of me. Gerald, are you watching these nasty boys fucking me?"

"Yes, baby, I am." said Condor. The smell of sex filled the air as Gor-don pulled his long punk cock out of Katherine. The Queen of Opposition Research was right there to suck his meat, cleaning it off with her lips and tongue.

Meanwhile, Clark was mounting Katherine again as she pulled her legs up and back. He slid his dick into sloppy wet hole, and within moments the room was filled with the smacks of her fleshy thighs smacking into his as he began to furiously fuck her.

"Does that feel good, Clark?" Katherine gasped. "Does it feel good to fuck my cum-filled pussy?"

"Yes ma'am." Clark obediently said as he slammed his full length into her again and again. Ah yes, the perfect aide... dutiful, obedient, and a great fuck...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What a beautiful view." she said as she looked at the view of the Town from the deck of the Cabin. She saw a train coming out of the western horizon, it's headlight visible even in the bright day of the afternoon.

The sounds of the crowd at the Stadium could also be heard from up here, I noticed as I watched her, her tall, regal elegance seeming to fit perfectly with that view.

"And such a lovely home, also." she said, looking back at the wall of The Cabin, composed mostly of the windows that allowed that view from inside as well as outside. "But that is not why you asked me here. Cop. So, what do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to have a few quiet, anonymous words with you," I said as I handed her a glass of wine, "and this is the best place in the County for that."

"Yes, it certainly is. Cop." said Rita as she sat down on the metal mesh loveseat, patting the seat next to her. I sat down, our hips and legs pressing together. We clinked our glasses and drank of the wine, then I poured us more from the carafe I'd brought onto the deck.

"So, not to rush you," she said, "but I must get back to Lashes & Lace, to prepare for the post-game crowds. Our restaurant is popular with the University's esteemed alumni. So what would you like to know?"

"David Collins." I said. "Came over all dead at the Cub Club. Dressed either as a Punk or as a very, very bad imitation of Marilyn Manson."

"Ah, what a man..." said Rita. She then peered at me and said "Marilyn Manson, that is. Collins was a turd. Manson was married to my idol, Dita Von Teese. Gorgeous, gorgeous woman."

"Yes, I've had a few hot fantasies about her myself." I said. So Collins was a turd?"

"So that's how you keep that delicious wife of yours satisfied." Rita said with a grin. "You just think of Dita Von Teese while fucking Laura."

I smiled, knowing that I did not need fantasies to get it up for my hot, sexy wife. "I have 'eyes only' for my wife." I said, making Rita chuckle.

Rita's grin vanished as she said "Well, 'turd' is the polite thing to call Collins. Cop. He was soundly rejected for membership in my clubs... yes, plural. Lashes & Lace is a place of business, a bowl that holds several different entities. You've only seen a couple of the floors of my place."

"Yes, I know you have several... specialties." I said. "So what can you tell me about Collins. Why was he murdered?"

"I don't understand why he was selected to be carved up like he was." Rita said. "But I do know that he was not what he seemed to be. I'm not saying it's impossible, but it's virtually unheard of for someone to be in the Punk Scene and be a loner at the same time. Punks are usually punks because they have friends who are Punks. Loners are just nerdy losers and don't waste their time playing dress-up, if you know what I mean. David Collins was a loner. He was the type of guy that was picked on and hated by everyone in high school. So for this guy to be a Punk was weird."

"Curious." I said.

"Yes. Cop." said Rita. "And then he weirded out everyone even more. He was always asking about things that were going on, about who were the people to talk to about drugs, who were the people to talk to about 'getting things done', which is slang for mercenaries for hire for criminal activities. He would ask who were the people from which he could get money."

"Ah," I said, "and everyone thought he was an undercover cop or something, trying to pump them for information."

"Not bad. Cop." said Rita, "but more likely they thought he was a confidential informant. But he was so bad at it, that my people wondered if that in itself was an act, and that someone else was watching for the reactions of other people to him. Myself, I noticed that he always seemed to have some money. Not a lot, but he working a minimum wage job part-time and he still seemed to have money. I know about following the money."

"Yes." I said, not saying that Rita liked money, and following it, herself. "That's an interesting observation on your part. You might just earn a pink crowbar one day."

"Mmmm," said Rita, "that would be nice, but I'd rather have that pinkish-white crowbar between your legs balls-deep inside me." She kissed my mouth. "But I'll have to take a raincheck."

"Too bad." I said.

"But before I go," she said, "maybe you can repay me for this information by telling me if you know of any moles in my organization. Cop."

"Think you've got a spy?" I asked.

"I'm pretty sure of it." Rita said. "I thought it might be that young stud Sean Sanderson, but after his mother's arrest, I've been able to find out that he's not the one. But some information about my clientele came out, and word got back to me that someone's lips are moving when they shouldn't be. I'd love it you'd help me find out who it is. Cop."

"I'll do what I can." I said. "I know that my Police Department does not have anyone trying to infiltrate your organization, since I'm infiltrating your sweet pussy from time to time." Rita's eyes glowed at my dirty talk as I said "But I'll check around and see if anyone knows anything."

"You're a doll. Cop." Rita said. "And one more thing: I've told my people to watch out for themselves after this murder. 'Punk' doesn't seem right. It could be 'BDSM' next. If not one of my people, maybe someone else's. Watch the BDSM Scene. Cop."

"You really are going to get a Pink Crowbar... as well as my cock in your sweet pussy soon."

"Mmm, can't wait." she said. "Unfortunately, I have to go."

I walked her through the house and to the front door. In her heels she was almost at eye-level with me. She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a deep, tongue-twining kiss before leaving.

After securing the house, I drove in my Police SUV down the road. I had to make the difficult hairpin-curve left turn instead of the easy merge to the right, as trying to drive right by the Stadium would be difficult. So I went around the mountain, down the other side and along Reservoir Lake Road to Nextdoor Highway, and subsequently back into Town.

Back at Headquarters, I began my own routine investigation of David Collins. Everything I found matched what other had found. Then I accessed the FBI's files.

What came back stunned me. The screen went black, with the FBI seal in the background and a message that read "Access Denied: Classified Information. Top Secret: CENTURION. Eyes Only."

What the fuck? I asked myself. I moved on to looking up Velasquez. No restrictions on his information, I thought to myself as I read the reports. After I was done I disconnected my laptop from the ethernet cable as I looked at the TV, seeing that the University's Bulldogs were being beaten on the field of football combat...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Beats the hell out of a shitty football game, doesn't it Gerald?" asked Katherine as everyone lay around in post-coital satisfaction, drinking wine. Only Gerald Condor hadn't been fully satiated. He'd wanted to fuck Katherine, but instead his aide Chandra and the Queen of Opposition Research had given him a double-decker blowjob to bring his modest size to climax, shooting his semen into their mouths as they hungrily lapped it up.

Meanwhile, Lydia had cleaned Clark's cock after he'd come in Katherine, then proceeded to eat the frothy loads out of Katherine's well-fucked, sperm-coated pussy.

"Yes, Katherine," replied Gerald. "It definitely beats having to sit in a cold football box with Sidney Wellman, hearing him whine about how bad his football team is."

"So, Lydia," Katherine said, "what's going on in Police Headquarters?"

Lydia replied "Everyone is wondering what the Council is going to do about ranks. A lot of the Patrol Officers hope they really sock it to the Detectives, but a lot want things left like they are."

"What about Vice?" said Katherine. "You're assigned there."

"They're stepping up efforts to see if this Punk murder is related to drug crime." said Lydia. "If I were running drugs, I'd back off for a few days. And the new guy, Krueger, has been assigned to MCD, so I can't keep tabs on him as much as I'd like to."

"That's okay. What about it, Gor-don?" asked Katherine.

"The D.A.'s office is pretty quiet." said Gor-don. "Jenna's not running against Krasney this year. Maybe against Miriam Walters for Solicitor next time. But she said the Iron Crowbar told her to keep her eyes and ears open for other opportunities for this election cycle."

"Really?" gasped Condor. "What positions?"

"I don't know." said Gor-don. "Maybe Council positions." He pretended not to notice the glance between Katherine Woodburn and Congressman Condor.

"What about Brownlee?" asked Katherine. "Is he behaving himself?"

"He and Chief have been meeting a lot the last few days." replied Gor-don. "Meetings that last an hour, even two hours at a time. Jenna's heard rumors the Chief is leaving the Police Department, but doesn't know what he plans to do. Jenna told her lover Ross about that. Also, Ross has been making trouble for Brownlee. Every time he tries to do something productive, she's either there fucking him up, or she's running to the Iron Crowbar about him."

"Yeah, that bitch needs a big cock shoved up her pussy to straighten her out." snarled Katherine.

"Pun intended." said the Queen of Opposition Research. Everyone laughed.

"Good one, Queenie." said Katherine. "What about you, Scotty? What's going on in Rita's club?"

"There's a lot of chatter about that Punk that got murdered." said Scotty. Scotty was a college Senior, and blessed with a nine inch cock. He was a proud member (pun intended) of the secret S-E-X Fraternity, and he was making good money fucking a lot of pussy in Rita's club. "Rita told all of us to be careful, that any of us might be targeted by the same killers."

"She thinks the killers will go from the Punk to the BDSM crowd?" Katherine asked, trying to keep her voice disinterested.

"I don't know, ma'am." said Scotty. "Just sayin' what Rita told us. She's always right, though. She knows a lot of stuff."

"Okay, Queenie," Katherine said derisively to the deeply political woman, "any rumors on the political front that we haven't heard?"

"One of our friends is an aide for one of the State Republicans." said the Queen of Opposition Research. "He said the Iron Crowbar took David Krueger from the Governor's political staff. Hired him for the Police Department. Governor didn't seem too upset by that, so we're wondering if he's going to make good on his promise to not run for another term. Also, the Republicans were pissed off at the Iron Crowbar after he met with them. They don't think he's loyal."

"He's not." said Condor with a derisive chuckle. "He's not a Republican, never was one. He's not a Democrat, either. He hates both Parties immeasurably. We have no idea where he really stands on political issues."

"He's part of the 'Idiot' class." snarled Katherine. "Has no idea of what the fuck he's up against on his Holy Grail quests to clean up SBI corruption. But he'll learn... he's going to learn..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What a lousy game." Mary said as she and Myron trudged down the hall towards my office. "I know the Bulldogs aren't that good, but to lose 34-6 to an inferior team like that?"

"Yeah, I think Coach Bronson is done." said Myron. "Oh, hello Commander."

I had just stepped out of my office into the hallway. "Hi guys." I said. "You have a minute to come inside?" They knew that wasn't a request.

Cindy was already in the office, sitting on the sofa and typing at her laptop. I had Mary and Myron sit down in the comfortable chairs known affectionately (well, maybe not so much) as the 'hot seats'.

Once everyone was seated, I asked Mary "Mary, do you know a David Collins?"

"The guy who was killed last night?" Mary replied. "No sir, I've never heard of him, at least not before the murder."

"From your past experience with the Punk scene, any idea why someone would want to cut him like that?" I asked.

"No sir." said Mary. "I really haven't been down there since I was 'made' by T-Square's Regiment." By 'made', Mary meant they'd found out she was a cop, and therefore of no value as an undercover operative. "And now I'm hanging out with Miltie and we have no business down there."

"True enough." I said. "So tell me, is the Cub Club the place to be for Punkers in this County? Where else would Punkers go? And do they cross-connect with the BDSM types?"

Mary replied "Well, let me put it this way: there are different tiers of people. For example, if you, Commander, and your wife wanted to go out for a drink, you'd probably go to the Cattleman's Club, or the bar at the Hyatt, since those are high class. You might go to one of the average restaurants and bars along University Avenue or a respectable club. You wouldn't go to Weinstein's club or a strip joint in the Tenderloin District, I would expect."

I nodded as Mary continued: "So for the Punk crowd, the Cub Club is where the low-lifers go. Most are not averse to using drugs, and they're looking to hook up for sex. The classier people, the ones just looking for a good time and casual fun, would go to one of the dance clubs further east. As to the BDSM types and the pure Goth types like I was..."

"And still are..." I said, which made Myron laugh.

"And still am." Mary said agreeably with a smile, "But they have different scenes. Goths like me might've gone to Punk places, or we'd make a place our own. But the BDSM people are a separate group entirely."

Mary continued: "The ones that are allowed inside Lashes & Lace, Rita's club, would go there. Rita is the standard of 'high class', as far as BDSM goes, even if that does sound like a contradiction in terms. The rejects go to Whippet's, which is just west of Weinstein's club, further south than the main Tenderloin District."

"Who runs that club?" I asked.

"I can answer that." said Myron as he furiously typed on his laptop that was sitting in his lap. "Guy named Butch Harmony... muscular guy, obviously on steroids. Wanted to be a WWE star but didn't make the grade, they never picked him up. So he started a club, set it up as a BDSM gay bar, but that totally failed. He was about to go broke so he lightened it up, made it a hangout for couples and men and women."

"Lots of fem-dom there." said Cindy. "Some trannies, but after what happened with Raoul a few weeks ago, the trannies are running scared. And the heteros are checking to make sure, if you know what I mean."

"Yes. Yes I do." I said as I considered the case.

"Sir," said Myron. "Guess where Reynolds works?"

"Whippet's." I said.

"And guess who one of Butch Harmony's financial backers is?"

"Velasquez?" I asked, surprised but knowing where Myron was going with this.

"Yes sir." said Myron. "Company called 'W.C.S. Solutions, LLC'. Velasquez has a stake in it."

"That answers my question." said Cindy. "I was wondering why you were thinking 'BDSM' instead of 'Punk', Commander."

"That's true, I'm seeing some different things than the face of this crime would naturally suggest." I said. Cindy was getting good; she was onto me about things more and more, I thought to myself.

"So, what do you think 'W.C.S.' stands for?" Cindy asked with a bit of a sparkle in her ice blue eyes.

"'Whips', 'Chains', and 'Stocks'?" I guessed. Everyone laughed. But later on, we'd find out that my guess was correct.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After Myron and Mary left, I asked Cindy "What are you doing tonight?"

"Jenna and I were thinking about going to a club... a classy one." said Cindy. "Some alone time tomorrow."

"Definitely do that." I said. "Take the day, don't do any police work. That is not a request. And one more thing, Cindy... keep your eyes peeled. I've got a bad vibe about this case... a bad vibe..."

"Bad vibes are my department, Mr. Michaux." Cindy retorted. "But I'll take your advice."

As she left the office, I contemplated what was going on. These waters were not what they seemed. These waters were muddy... and deep.

Very, very deep.

To be continued.