The Click Ch. 2

The night was cool, the promise of spring had not yet come in full. He walked to the curb, and then, pausing, started down the street. The streetlights came a pale glow, barely denting the darkness. His pace was measured, neither fast enough or slow enough to attract attention.

Upstairs, the detective asked her to look at the image of the tiny TV screen.

"Is that him?" he asked.

"I'm not sure" she replied. "The light doesn't catch his face, or body either very well. Can't you move it for a different angle?"

The detective sighed. To civilians, everything seemed easy.

"Miss, without an identification, we can't stop him."

"I can't tell from there. Can't you help me please?"

Cursing quietly beneath his breath, he radioed the van.

"We've got trouble seeing him. Can you adjust the angle for better lighting?"

"Not without changing the laws of physics, Chief. How about Thomas in the car? He's facing the other way."

The detective thought, why not? Things weren't going well anyway.

"Thomas, can you pick him up?"

Thomas turned to his partner. "Did you bring a camera?"

His partner put down his coffee, sweating even in the cool night air.

"It's back here somewhere," he responded, turning to rummage around in the back seat. He pushed the empty food wrappers aside, looking for the black case holding the video cam.

"I found it," he said, triumph mingling with heavy breathing caused by the exertion. He fumbled with the case, the clasp resisting his chubby fingers. After several tries, he popped it open.

"Hurry up, damn-it, he'll be gone!"

"I'm going as fast as I can", he replied. Please, slow down, he prayed. Don't let me blow this.

He did pause. In fact, he stopped on the street, and took out a stick of gum, breath freshening. That pause gave the detective in the car the time he needed to swing the camera into position. But the detective wasn't mindful of the admonition, "Be careful of what you ask for, you might get it." That pause did let the camera swing into position, but as it did, it also let the streetlight reflect off of the lens. He noticed the flash of light where there shouldn't be one. He smiled, and thought "So that's the game tonight eh? O.K., I'll play."

He continued to her building, entering the foyer, and headed towards the newspaper stands. Upstairs, she viewed repeated replays, trying to determine if it was, in fact him.

"I'm not sure, I'm not sure," she said, her voice strained with the effort of trying to find more details in her memory than it held. The thin line between memory and forcing details into existence was dangerously close to being crossed.

"Without a positive I.D., we can't stop him now. We'll have to wait until he actually does something," the detective reminded her, with harsh undertones of menace, and implied threat. Police, he thought, were seldom bothered by such niceties. For them line-ups were a formality, a confirmation of what was known, or thought to be known. He sighed. Maybe the two undercover cops in the lobby could get something. Looking up her unit number, unusual activity. Anything.

But such hopes were, so far, in vain. He had done nothing more than approach the machines, choosing his brand of paper. The undercover couple tried to remain inconspicuous, just another amorous couple. He looked at them, and their too neat hair, and determinedly ordinary clothes. He smiled. "Let's have some fun," he thought. He made a point of staring in their direction, then away, and back again.

The woman panicked. She whispered to her partner, "I think he made us!"

"Stay frosty, and stay in character. He doesn't know anything" her partner replied. Then, in keeping with his admonition, he kissed her, dramatically, and whispered in her ear, "Did he see that?"

She hardly heard him, so caught off guard was she after the kiss. Once her breath returned, she scanned his face. "I think so, he seems a little more relaxed." She wasn't ready for the second kiss, but was receptive to it. "It's part of the job, " she thought. But the feelings that started through her were definitively not job related. She was on the petite side, at five foot two, and one hundred five pounds. Her partner was six feet even, and one hundred eight pounds. No fat.

The third kiss she initiated, and he responded, his left hand parting her dark red hair, while cradling her head, and his right hand traveled down her body to caress her breast. His hand found the buttons on her blouse, and popped them open with a practiced ease. She hadn't worn a bra; she doubted her 33-inch breasts needed the confining. Now, her nipples responded to his fingers, gently tweaking them, and rolling them between his finger and thumb. The thrills spread to her groin, fluids starting to flow. Her fingers played down his chest, confirming and admiring the hardness of his stomach. Her fingers strayed lower, and found that her rising heat was not a one-way street.

"This is necessary for the job, right," she asked.

"Absolutely," he replied. He'd say anything at that point.

He pushed her into a darker corner, giving them more privacy, but where they could still keep an eye on their suspect. He inched up her skirt, and found her wetness. The pantyhose were a problem, but nothing a good rip couldn't cure. Her panties he simply pushed aside. She undid his zipper, and pulled him free, noting his size with appreciation. He bent to kiss and suck her nipples, grazing them with his teeth. That was greeted with appropriate shivers of delight.

Then, bending to the task, he entered her, lifting her up by the ass as he did so. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and gasped at the act. Even as much as she wanted, hell, needed this, her body still wasn't ready to accommodate his size. Her eyes rolled as her vagina stretched to its fullest. "Damn, " she thought, "Why are there department rules against fraternization? I could get used to this."

Even as he lifted and held her, she began to ride him, seeking the release she now needed desperately. She moved back and forth on him, shivering as the sensations mounted. Her clit finally found what it needed, and she cried out as her orgasm washed over her. She kept going, determined to get everything she could out of the extraordinary situation. Finally, there was no more to get, and the situation was now the opposite. The stimulation was too much.

"Hurry up and finish, " she panted

Her plea to him woke him from his reverie of lust that had taken him out of the time and place he was in. He had mere fractions of a second to decide what to do. He may never be in this position again, and he decided to take advantage of it. He let her slide to the ground, then spun her around, and pushed her towards the wall. As her hands braced her on the wall, he flipped up her skirt, and shredding her panties, he entered her ass. He was fully lubricated from the last few minutes, and, after a momentary resistance, he was in. She was tight beyond belief, her ass hot and slick. His rythmn spoke only to his need, slowing down, and speeding up on his whim. She was lost in her own world. No one had taken her in this way for a long time, and that had gone badly. This, however, was unbelievable. She hunched back at him, increasing his pleasure. His hands came to her breasts, holding them, weighing, them, pulling on them and finally twisting her nipples as he came, over and over, her ass milking him dry. They didn't notice their suspect had all ready left, smiling.

Upstairs, they packed up.

"I'm sorry, Miss. There isn't anything else we can do tonight. Call us if you see him again." She was sure that she would.

Two weeks passed, and nothing. She began to go back to her old routine, only occasionally looking in a store window, looking for a reflection, seeing nothing. Thursday was bright, unseasonably so. She had left her sunglasses at home, sure the overcast would last all day. She lingered in front of the Marshall Field's window, wondering about the grey suit it featured. The line weren't bad, but was it too over-priced? She never got to answer that question, someone pushed her arm up behind her back, and held her so close to him that her arm couldn't be seen. She was propelled through the front door, and past the first counter, and through a door in the wall she couldn't see, so much a part of the décor it seemed invisible. When the door closed, it was dark, too dark to see, but she didn't need light to know who was there with her. "How long did that take?" she wondered, "How many seconds?" She heard the door lock click into place.

"I'll scream." She said, now surprisingly calm.

"No, you won't. But if it amuses you, go ahead. Any noise the stock doesn't soak up will be covered by the heating unit behind you." He replied. This was no accident, neither the meeting nor the place. He had scouted her during the last two weeks, and knew her moves. The room he knew from a brief affair years ago with an attractive young sales girl. It had always proved up to the task. She screamed. Not earth-shatteringly loud, but loud none the less. Nothing. She tried again. Still nothing.

She hadn't heard him cross the room over the screams, and was taken by surprise when he grabbed her jaw, and kissed her. The kiss was forceful, but not harmful. It was deep, and patient. She responded, and was lost. He let his hands slide down her body, grabbing her breasts, crushing the polished silk blouse in the process, gently twisting her nipples, teasing them into hardness. He pulled her blouse out from her skirt, and unbuttoned it from the bottom up. Once that was done, he slipped the blouse and blazer off of her shoulders, and tossed them aside. He grabbed her bra in front, half in each hand, and pulled it apart, ripping the fragile lace. He never pretended to look for the clasp. The skirt joined her blazer on the floor, while her panties and pantyhose joined the bra, in tatters and useless. He pulled her to him, and traced the outline of her back, and bottom. She could feel his warmth through his shirt, and felt even more naked knowing that she was subject to his most intimate touch, while he remained fully clothed.

He pushed her across the room until the back of her legs hit the desk. He cleared it with one sweep of his arm, and pushed her onto it, her back flinching from the cold. She tried to cross her legs, and deny him access, but he pushed them open with his knees, easily. He unzipped, took out his cock, and thrust into her, over and over, until he was finally in. He stayed above her, grasping and pulling and torturing her breasts, until she was breathing as hard as he was.

Her thoughts were confused, as a riot of sensations cascaded through her. This violated every rule of her behavior and upbringing, but something about thrilled her is ways she didn't want to admit. This swirl finally ended when she reached her most intense orgasm yet. She shuddered, and cried out, all of which simply spurred him on. He grabbed her by the hips, and rammed her harder still, until he felt his own climax approaching.

He pulled out abruptly, and pulled her by the arms until she was kneeling in front of him, the sweat still shining on her. He drove into her mouth before she knew what was happening, her head now in both of his hands. She didn't even have time to object that he was still wet with her cum when he entered into her mouth, now driving into her throat. She sucked as hard as she could, all by instinct. His thrusts grew quicker, and more frantic, until he came, deep inside her. Spurt after spurt went down her throat, too deep for tasting. As he softened, and shrank, the final drops went onto her tongue. She milked all that she could from him, then slumped down, exhausted, shaking.

He zipped up, and left her in the darkness. She found her blouse and skirt, and dressed as best she could. She found the light, and saw her lingerie was beyond salvage. She left them in the wastebasket. She composed herself as best she could, and went home. She wouldn't see him again for a week.