Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
 This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are 
under 18- 21 in some localities  If you are underage you must leave 
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the 
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange 
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this 
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral 
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. 
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be 
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, 
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

	For Love and Money - (Sam8.txt) - Sam's back to his normal routine
as a divorce detective, but would we be reading about it if it didn't
turn into something bigger? Also, Staci ad Sam reach another stage in
their relationship. M/F, oral, anal, BDSM


				For Love and Money 
				Sam Hill VIII

	Sam wasn't giving up the cots or selling the coffeemaker. He was
unsure of the idea from the start and only conceded because of the
sheer logic of Staci's idea.
	Howard had received a small reward for finding what was left of
the cigarette boat and insisted on splitting with Sam. With the bank
reward, Sam had a stake for the first time he could remember.
	Staci would absolutely not let him even talk about dipping into
it. She derailed his intention to get his own apartment at the first
mention. She swore she would move into the office and demand a pay cut
if Sam did any such thing.
	Sam hated the way she sounded like a wife. He hated her being
right almost as much. The wife tone in her insistence made it harder
to swallow her solution. Sam could move into her apartment. 
	Really, it only meant spending one or two more nights a week in
her bed. But moving in carried another aura. Despite Staci's reassurance
that it was no more than a change of address, Sam was cautious.
	He remembered being bored at her place. And there were a whole set
of other logistics involved.
	"Look, if you want to use the place, I'll stay in the office and
if I want to use it, you will, like every other pair of roommates,"
Staci said.
	Sure, it sounded good. But Sam didn't see it happening. He couldn't
see himself telling Staci he was having some other broad come over.
Sure, she was a good sport about it, but it wasn't natural.
	Sam knew that much. His whole divorce business was based on men
and women that didn't want another partner in their spouse's life.
	Before he had to admit that he was the only one having the problem
with his freedom, the phone rang.
	Staci answered and began writing. Writing usually meant work. Sam
forgot the discussion of accommodations and began to guess what it would
be this time.
	-----
	"You'll like this one," Staci announced as she followed Sam into
his office. "A man wants legal evidence that his wife is cheating on
him. It sounds like one of those May- December things."
	"And why will I like it?" Sam asked.
	"Because it should be quick and boring," Staci said, "That should
be a comforting change from the excitement we've had around here."
	Staci put her notes on the desk in front of Sam. She leaned down
and smiled at him.
	"And I'll bet she's a knock-out. You like taking pictures of
pretty girls naked," she smiled.
	DuPeuys. That was a name that said money. If he was an old geezer
with a young wife, then odds were Staci was right. Rich old men weren't
known for marrying librarians.
	There didn't seem to be much to do. Stacy had the wife (Tami)
scheduled for every hour of the week she was out of the house. The old
man had even furnished a list of suspects and their descriptions.
	It did seem like it would be more of a photo shoot than an
investigation. The best part was circled at the bottom of the page:
$500. Tail a broad, shoot a roll of film, $500. It was too easy.
	Sam believed it was real when the courier arrived with Lincoln 
DuPeuys' check. Even the paper was fancy, never mind the curlicue and
scroll decorations. DuPeuys' check looked like money, as if he had so
much he could print a private currency.
	That gave Sam a better feeling about the case.
	-----
	Tami DuPeuys was a looker. She wasn't as young as Sam imagined,
probably in her late 30's or early 40's, but she was still stunning.
She was wearing some stylish halter top with a bikini neckline and wide
tails of material that hung down her back from the rear tie.
	The top stopped like a bikini as well, showing off a long tanned
torso and waist down to low-riding, tight, flare legged pants of the 
same material as the top. Her breasts bulged in generous curves above
the top and the pants were tight enough to display a pair of slim hips.
	She might not be young and fresh, but she was hot. She moved with
a practiced grace and seemed to emit an air of accomplished confidence.
Sam was sure she was aware of the effect of every move she made. She
looked like a woman experienced in a lot of areas.
	The schedule said she was on her way to the gym. Sam was following
her to make sure that was where she went. It was.
	Mrs. DuPeuys was having a sauna and a massage. Sam found that out
from the cute little thing tending the desk. She didn't even give him a
hard time. What she gave him was the eye.
	"Bet you're a detective," she said.
	"You win," Sam said, "I'm Sam Hill. But I'd appreciate if we kept
that between you and me."
	He didn't mean that quite the way it turned out.
	"Sam Hill? Go on- you're not really," she seemed skeptical, "I
know all about the real Sam Hill."
	Sam wasn't in the mood to play word games with her. He pulled out
his license and showed it to her.
	"You are? Really?" she looked from the license to his face and
back, "Baker, the good cop, Catalano, the bad cop, Shelly, your girl
Monday through Sunday, and you with the..."
	Her words stopped and her gaze went down. If Sam was surprised by 
the rattle of names and facts, he was pleased when she started up again.
	"Maybe I could tell you more about Mrs. DuPeuys if you
interrogated me in private," she purred seductively. "She'll be on the
massage table at least an hour after she gets out of the sauna."
	Sam took another look at the little girl. She had big brown eyes
and a happy smile that now took up most of the rest of her face. She
exuded enthusiasm and a bubbly spirit. She was about 5-2 with barely
discernable breasts and the slim outline of a gymnast.
	Her little butt seemed to sit very high for a woman of her
stature. Sam noticed the last as she turned to lead him into another
room.
	"This is the break room, but no one ever takes a break in here,"
she chattered in excitement, "They all have, umm, other things to do
on break so we'll be all alone in here. Why don't you sit down over
there. Oh- take your coat off first."
	Sam had run into detective groupies before, but this girl was 
acting like he was a movie star or something. He sat and she came over
and hesitated in front of him before impulsively throwing herself into
his lap.
	"I know all about your interrogation techniques," she said,
throwing her arms around his neck and gluing her body to his. "I
touch myself sometimes pretending you're interrogating me."
	She delivered the last with her head nestled against his neck
under his chin. Then Sam felt her lips on his neck. That was seductive,
but it was her round little bottom squirming in his lap that got the
big response.
	Sam enjoyed the hero worship, but something better was coming up.
He put his hands on her lightly, one around her back and the other
stroking her flank. Her hands were busy opening his collar to expose
more of him to kiss.
	Other women had told him he had a reputation, but none of them 
had treated him like a celebrity. This little girl was treating him like
a star. Her lips kissed along his collarbone as she opened his shirt.
	Sam generally wasn't into subtle, but this one was applying her
little kisses with an eagerness that was arousing. His cock was becoming
acquainted with the curves of her ass.
	"Oh my! It's just like they say," she enthused, "Can I see it?"
	Sam was glad she didn't wait for an answer. He wasn't sure what to
say. Of course she could see it, but saying simply, yes, didn't fit his
idiom, or at least the one she seemed to be responding to.
	She scrambled off his lap and knelt between his knees to open his
pants. When she got his cock out, she looked at it as if Santa had 
brought her just the present she had wanted. Her eyes looked up full of
wonder.
	"You can fuck me. I hope you'll fuck me. I want you to fuck me,"
her words tumbled out, "But can I kiss it?"
	She didn't need an answer this time either. The visual was a bit
disturbing. She looked like a pre-teen kissing his cock, so Sam closed
his eyes. It felt just fine, like ants crawling over the head of his
cock.
	"Now can I have it?" her words brought Sam's eyes open again.
	This time she was waiting for an answer. She was mostly staring
up at him with those big, brown eyes, but every once in a while her
gaze would dart back to the cock looming in front of her face.
	"Take off your clothes," Sam finally said. "Take off every
stitch."
	His voice was gravelly because his mouth was dry. It seemed like
that was a good thing. She quivered at his command and got up and took
off her clothes. Obeying him looked like her heart's desire.
	Sam took the opportunity to slip his pants off the rest of the
way. She looked old enough naked. Her breasts were too small to form an
undercurve, but they were real breasts. The dark mat at the base of the
swoop of her belly settled the issue of maturity. She had strong legs,
firm tapering thighs and calves that didn't need heels to form their
attractive outline.
	"Now kiss it again," Sam bid her.
	Her eyes sparked with delight as she dropped down to kiss his
dick. She liked Sam to tell her what to do. Sam figured it left her free 
to have her fantasies without the responsibility of orchestrating their
liaison.
	"Now climb up here. I want to fuck you," he told her.
	As she settled on his lap, Sam put one hand in her crotch and the
other explored her chest. She was very wet. He slipped a finger inside
and she moaned lustily. Touching her nipples was like turning on a
faucet. Sam felt her flow around his finger as he toyed with the erect
spots on her chest.
	The chair proved to be an awkward fit for fucking. Sam managed to
get only an inch or two of cock in her despite her struggles to contort
into a position that would allow him full access. Even she had a look
of frustration on her face.
	"Get off," Sam ordered, "We're going to do this right or not at
all."
	Her cunt had felt good. It reminded him of Staci when he had
excited her to a fever pitch before giving her his cock. Sam was looking
for the next best place to fuck this little girl.
	"The table," he said, "Climb up on the table."
	There was no way they were going to fuck without some help. On
her knees, his cock would be almost a foot above her ass. Sam knew
he couldn't bend down far enough to reach if she bent over. She needed
a booster seat.
	There was some compensation for the interruption. As she turned 
to get on the table, Sam saw she had one of the cutest asses he had
ever seen. Staci was a great woman and great fuck but cute was not 
an adjective to describe her ass- womanly, inviting, pliable- fat, but
not cute.
	This girl's ass was high, all the more noticeable because of her petite
frame, and firm, defined and sculpted into two perfect buttocks
barely meeting to form an asscrack. Sam lost nothing of his desire as
he watched her climb onto the table.
	"Scoot up to the edge," Sam instructed, circling his finger to
indicate she should face him.
	The table was a good height. Sam would have to go up on his toes
to give her all he had, but it was just right for working in the middle 
distance. He slid his cock back into her sopping pussy and she threw
her arms and legs around him like a steel trap.
	"Oh Jeeze! You're even bigger than they say!" she enthused.
	Sam felt that was premature. She might have two-thirds of his
cock,	but it was far from all of it. Still, he appreciated her praise.
He refrained from telling her she had a big cunt.
	That was true. Sam didn't feel like he was straining her as his
cock thrust in and out of her well-lubricated hole. Not that it was a 
bad thing. Even when he went up on his toes and finally sank his whole
cock in her, he didn't feel he was overtaxing her capacity.
	That was exciting in its own way. Even on the table, the top of
her head was below his chin. His hands on her back were at the level of
his navel and below. She felt tiny against his body and yet she took
everything he had with ease. It gave the illusion that most of her
was cunt. A cunt on legs, and great legs at that- that was a bit of a
fantasy fuck for Sam. 
	Her gushing excitement, her accommodating cunt, no matter how good
it was for Sam, she was far more impressed that he was. She moaned at
his every movement and then fastened her mouth to his chest to kiss
randomly as he fucked her.
	Her orgasm came like a surprise attack and she squealed as every
muscle in her body clamped on to Sam. Her cunt was still just as big,
but that meant there was more to surround Sam's cock and squeeze. She
clung to him like she was appliquéd to his body and Sam found he was
lifting her off the table as he thrust into her.
	She weighed nothing- 80, 90 pounds max. Sam felt he was close 
enough that he could hold her up while he finished fucking her. Feeling
the cheeks of her tight little ass in his hands made the idea seem even
better.
	There was no dissent from the woman on his cock. He turned her so
he could let her down on his cock without going up on he toes and
bounced her on his stiff prick. She muffled her cries into his chest as
he fucked her and came off again. This time her legs clamped down like
bands and she vibrated against him.
	She moved frantically against him, which was a good thing because
Sam could no longer thrust into her. She was holding herself tight
against him with her legs and his cock was trapped at its deepest
penetration inside her.
	"I forgive them! I forgive them!" she gasped unexpectedly, "How
could anyone describe how good this is!"
	She quivered into yet another climax. It was the biggest yet. Sam
felt her mouth sucking at his chest, but more immediately he felt her
cunt suck at his cock. She rubbed hard on his groin and the spasms of
her cunt succeeded in taking Sam over the edge,
	It was like some supernatural blow-job as Sam dug his fingers into
her ass and let loose great jets of cum. It wasn't like shooting off as
he fucked his cock into a cunt. It was like she was some succubus
sucking out his seed without his volition.
	Only Sam didn't fear her intent. He only marveled at the way her
cunt demanded his cum and made him give it to her.
	"Let me hang on it a little while," she asked in a quiet voice.
	Sam felt her legs relax a little and felt her weight come down on
his still stiff cock. She moved her ass in his hands as if memorizing
the feel of his cock with every part of her cunt.
	"Will you kiss me?" she asked a moment later.
	She loosened her arms and legs again in what Sam took as a signal
she was ready to be put down. He swung her around to the table and set
her ass on it. She unlocked her legs and let her hands slide over to 
rest on his shoulders.
	"No one ever talks about kissing you," she said, "I just wonder 
what it's like."
	Sam wondered who all these people were. He knew he was referred to
as a legend, but he had never taken that seriously. He thought he was 
the only one that realized exactly how much pussy he got on a week to
week basis. She responded to his pause while thinking.
	"It's okay if you don't. Getting to fuck Sam Hill is like the
best thing that's ever- probably will ever happen to me," she started
to talk fast again. "That was really great. I knew you'd be the best
ever, but you were even better than I thought."
	Sam shut her up with his lips on hers. He felt like a fool, but
he didn't know what else to do. He didn't consider himself any great
shakes as a kisser. He never thought about it, really. It just 
happened when it happened.
	This time it happened. This time it happened and it was her fault.
Her tongue came out to lick his lips when he kissed her. She hesitated
shyly and then her tongue bullied its way into his mouth.
	He felt it in his cock. Her lips pushed his mouth open and they
locked in the most open-mouthed kiss Sam could remember. Gaping jaws
gave their tongues a playground and Sam felt the heat rise to his 
hairline as their tongues played a raw sexual game in their joined
mouths.
	Now he was ready to fuck her- if he wasn't already drained and
out of breath from the kiss. He put his finger under her jaw Hollywood
style. He kissed her again with lips closed.
	"We should have done that before we started," Sam said.
	She nodded. Her eyes were bright, but she was too overcome to 
speak.
	-----
	There was something about the encounter that played on Sam's mind.
He was reasonably sure he had not found his true love, although he had
left the break room a bit starry-eyed. He didn't consider her obvious
hero-worship for a second. But there was something magic in that kiss.
	Maybe the girl... the girl, he hadn't even asked her name. Maybe
the girl was in love with him, at least with the man constructed in her
fantasies. There was no doubt that she had put something special into
that kiss.
	He wondered that he had never felt the same from Staci. But
Staci wasn't a starry-eyed little girl. And she knew Sam too well to be
stupid about him.
	Sam went out to his car to wait for Tami DuPeuys.
	She was supposed to go home, but the car wasn't pointed toward her
exclusive address. Sam followed. It was too easy. If she was meeting her
lover, then the whole case was going to wrap up in four hours.
	That was too sweet to believe.
	It was also too good to be true. Tami went shopping. Other than
trying on some lingerie there was nothing faintly sexual about the trip.
She was pointed home, but Sam followed to make sure.
	He left her at the gates of the long driveway and turned back for
the office. Day one had gone by without incident, as far as the case
was concerned.
	-----
	"There's something I want to talk to you about, Sam," Staci said
when he was back at the office.
	Sam looked at her expectantly.
	"Anything...oh, exciting, happen today?" she asked.
	Sam knew women had radar. He wondered if there was still some
scent clinging to him that gave him away.
	"What are you talking about, Staci?" Sam asked, knowing exactly
what she was talking about.
	"At least you didn't lie to my face," Staci said. "A long time ago
I used to think it was cute. Lately, it makes me feel like you think
I'm too stupid to know."
	Staci looked down and re-arranged the pens and pencils on her
desk. Then she looked up again.
	"Cut it out, will you," she said. "I don't care. I really don't
care. If you're going to be moving in, get over this thing about trying
to hide other women from me. It will make it easier on you. It never
worked anyway."
	Sam tried his best to look offended.
	"You're a woman. I lie to you by reflex. Don't take it personal,"
Sam ad-libbed. "I promise I'll try to change."
	Then he went in his office. Of course she knew. He was trying to
be chivalric or something. Like it wasn't polite to tell one woman you
are boning about boning other women, unless they get off on that kind
of thing.
	But she was right again. Sam had already considered that same
worry. But- fuck it- it would work out. At least he wasn't flying into
a jealous rage...
	His tie was askew. His shirt opened to the third button and half
his shirt tail hung out. His face was a mask of rage and he had soot
rubbed under his eyes to make dark circles.
	"I know why you're trying to get rid of me!" he pointed his finger
at Staci. "You want to have men over! You want to make me feel like I 
have to agree to that!"
	Staci regarded him coldly.
	"You don't have to agree to nothing! I'll have men over and make
you watch me fuck 'em whether you like it or not!" she shouted back.
	"But it's you, only you! I don't want other women," Sam emoted.
	"But I need a man and I'll have to call one over if you're what
I'm stuck with!" Staci trumped his ace.
	That was over the line. Staci wasn't bidding any more. She wasn't
responding to see what he had in mind. That was a personal attack. She
was asking for him to make good on his offer. She wanted his jealous
retaliation.
	Sam yanked down his zipper as he stalked over to her.
	"If I'm not a man, then why do I hear you gagging when I shove
this down your throat?" he asked as he held his cock in Staci's face.
	Staci started laughing.
	"I'm sorry, Sam, but it stinks," Staci said.
	Perhaps he overacted, but it was a melo-drama. He didn't think
it stunk.
	"Your cock," Staci said, pushing it aside, "Go wash it and I'll
play whatever sick game is on your mind."
	It could be a bit rancid, Sam decided.
	-----	
	The next day Sam saw a man on Mr. DuPeuys' list of suspects. He
was attending a meeting of a charity drive that Tami also attended.
Allen Lister looked like the type. He paid entirely too much attention
to Mrs. DuPeuys.
	His instinct was gold. After much ado when the meeting ended, the
two waited a few minutes longer and then slipped off together. It was
a dream.
	Sam couldn't have asked for a better set-up. Mr. Lister was
resourceful enough to have a bed in his mini-van. Cheap was another word
that occurred to Sam, but as far as he was concerned it was better.
	They seemed to feel safe in the van, safe enough to disrobe
completely, and it was no trouble for Sam's long lens to snap pictures
through the van's windshield from his post two cars away. Staci was
right. He was enjoying looking at this woman's naked body through the
lens of his camera.
	For all her fitness and cunning, she seemed to be a rather average
fuck, but she looked good naked. She never even went down on Mr. Lister.
It was like she was there to be serviced.
	Sam put away his critique when he burned the roll of film. Now
he'd make some prints and earn himself $500. So it took him eight hours,
it was still quick money.

	Sam was on his way to the DuPeuys mansion by 7:30. The old man 
wanted to meet Sam face to face and look at the pictures.
	"She is a lusty woman, Mr. Hill, a lusty woman," Mr. DuPeuys
told Sam as he examined the pictures. "I doubt if this is the only one."
	He smiled up at Sam.
	"You do good work. These are good photos," he said. "I want you 
to keep following her. I will give you another $500 for pictures of 
every other man you can catch her with."
	If it was as easy as the first, then Sam didn't mind. Lately it
seemed he couldn't turn around without someone throwing money into his
lap.
	-----
	Sam had found things to do at Staci's. Her block was quieter
than the block around the office when he wanted to walk and think. And
the more it seemed like home, the more he realized he had played far too
much wastebasket-ball when he lived in the office.
	He also had unmasked Staci's deepest secret. She couldn't cook a
lick. Well, breakfast, but that hardly counted. He found it was her
deepest secret when he tried to tease her.
	From now on he was going to cook and keep his mouth shut. He was
far from a Cordon Bleu chef, but he'd picked up a lot of tricks in his
bachelor stints. He knew which cans to open and pour together to make
a meal.
	There was finally time for that. Magically some switch in Sam's
head had flipped. When he went home with Staci before, it was for one
reason. He was in a rush to get to that one reason and to think up
some scene to play while he was reasoning Staci.
	That led to much pizza and some Chinese for supper. Of course,
now he knew that wasn't much different from Staci's normal fare. With a
cook in the house, they ate home-cooked meals and got around to fucking
when they got around to fucking.
	There was something dangerous about that. Sam had to admit the
ambiance was better in an apartment and he had always liked sleeping in
Staci's bed. Sam felt the danger when Staci slipped into bed beside
him and kissed him on the cheek.
	He had kissed her properly and then rolled over and fucked her.
It was too homey. It reminded Sam too much of being married. He lay
awake a long time thinking about that.
	-----
	He gained a better slant on that homey feeling when he answered
the knock on the door the next afternoon. Staci was off at a Future
Detective Wanna-be meeting or something.
	The girl was too old to be selling Girl Scout cookies. Sam put her
at about 23. She wasn't dressed up like a saleswoman and she wasn't
dressed down like a hooker.
	"What do you want?" Sam asked, rather brusquely.
	"I didn't know there was a man living here," she said.
	"What do you want? More rent?" Sam snapped.
	"Actually, not more, just this month's," she said.
	"YOU'RE Mrs. Emery?" Sam was shocked. 
	Staci had described her landlady as the motherly type. Sam saw her
more as the type guys wanted to try and make a mother. At least give her
a few practice runs.
	"Yes," she said, "And you are?..."
	"Sam Hill," Sam said, "Staci's partner."
	He had promoted her without thinking about the other meanings of
partner. Then, he was living with her. What this girl thought didn't
change reality. 
	Sam wasn't taking into consideration a woman's ability to warp
reality. Mrs. Emery smiled with half her face.
	"Would you consider working out a deal?" she asked, slyly.
	With all the clanging and buzzers going off in his head, it was
hard to imagine she could hear his answer. You don't eat where you shit.
Don't let your dick run your life.
	Living in the same building was a little closer than he liked to
be to his conquests. It would be easy for her to become a pain in the
ass. On the other hand, he had Staci to chase her away and Staci telling
him he was just a roommate, free to fuck whomever he wanted.
	"Only if I have to let you have your way with me," Sam quipped.
	And he did.
	She closed the door behind her and went to work on Sam's pants.
She took off her own clothes as he climbed into bed naked. She was a
cute little thing with a heart-shaped ass and breasts he could gather
up in his hands.
	She climbed over him with no preliminaries and then leaned down to
kiss him. Her pubic fur tickled his cock as she rubbed her crotch on it.
	"I've heard a lot about this dick," she told him, "I want to see
what it really can do."
	He wondered where she got her information. He didn't want to think
that Staci went around bragging about his dick. Then again, if she was
that impressed...
	Mrs. Emery seemed impressed when his cock swelled and Sam began
to feel her moist slit open for him.
	"You do want to kiss these, don't you?" she asked and held up
her breasts.
	Sam decided it was cheap ploy to move up so his cock could blunder
around the lips of her cunt. He let her feed him her breasts as she got
wetter and wetter stroking herself on his cock.
	She put her hands on his chest and settled back with a sigh. She
was hot for him.
	"I hear you like it better on top," she said as her hips started
a slow hula on his cock. "Too bad. I'm collecting the rent here."
	Sam reached up to grab the headboard, hoping she didn't notice
the straps on the corners. He was willing to let her have her fantasy,
but he didn't know her well enough to let her tie him up.
	It was clear she wasn't trying to torment him. It didn't matter
if he feigned frustration or let his pleasure show. Her deliberate
movements, sprinkled with sudden bursts, were for her own amusement.
	Her only concern for him seemed to be in keeping him from cumming
before she was through with him. In that she errored wildly on the
side of caution. It did feel like there were parts in her cunt, squishy,
tongue textured parts that moved independently of one another, but that
was only enough to keep Sam from getting bored as she rode his cock.
	Those parts worked together when they rippled along his cock in
her first, Sam thought mild, orgasm.
	"You are good for something," she said with some surprise as she
realized his cock was as hard as ever inside you. "How long can you
take me at a gallop?"
	Longer than it took her cum again, this time much better, she
found. Now she was touching on frustration. Her wild bouncing had taken
Sam along but she wriggled and came and then stopped just as Sam was
nearing his own finish line.
	Fuck it. He wasn't tied to the bed. She seemed much less
commanding as she panted after her climax. Sam rolled her over and put 
his cock to her his way.
	It evened out. Sam thought he left her on the brink of a third
orgasm when his cock ended its rough excavation of her hole and filled
her cunt with his cum. He even teased her with a little after-fuck
before he pulled out and lay beside her.
	"We got a deal?" he asked.
	"That was worth it for sure," she said. "Maybe you could pay me
every two weeks."

	Sam was proud of himself in a 'good offense is the best defense'
kind of way. He had enjoyed his time with the landlady and he was
bubbling with the chance to tell Staci.
	She should be proud of him for believing her, but he was prepared
to remind her what she said if there was some loophole that didn't
cover afternoons or some such nonsense.
	"I paid the rent," he called brightly as Staci came in the door.
	"You what?" Staci asked, walking over so she could see Sam laying
in bed. "You mean you paid it like that?"
	"You said..." Sam started but was cut off.
	"Mrs. EMERY?" her faced scrunched up, "I don't want to think about
that. Anyway, you got suckered. I'm paid up through the end of the
year."
	"What's wrong with Mrs. Emery?" Sam asked, defensive for a
different reason now, this time his ego.
	"If you like old and fat..." Staci put up her hands, "Whatever."
	"She couldn't have been 30," Sam said flatly.
	Then her grin was so patronizing Sam felt ashamed without knowing
why.
	"You got double-suckered," Staci started to giggle. "That was
Anita, Mrs. Emery's daughter. And I don't owe her any rent either."
	Making fun of him was a far cry from being angry and off in the
right direction, but it didn't make Sam any happier. He was hoping for
some praise, some tender loving care, at least a blow-job.
	After some thought, he guessed it was better that way. Roommates
didn't reward each other either. Maybe it could work out like Staci said.
	-----
	At least Lister sprung for a room sometimes. Tami was supposed to
be at a garden club, but she was in a room letting Allen fertilize her lilies. 
	Sam had seen no evidence that any of the other men on old man
DuPeuys' list of suspects held any interest for Tami. So far, she had
been where she was supposed to be except when she was fucking Lister.
	Sam moved to the hotel bar to wait for Tami to come down. He was
listening to how fucked up the world was from the bartender when a
high-class redhead sat down next to him.
	"Your date stand you up?" she asked Sam.
	It was a hooker's line. Sam turned and looked the woman over. The
rocks in her ears were real emeralds or real expensive copies. If she
was a hooker, one look would tell her Sam couldn't afford her.
	"I'm just waiting for a cab," Sam pulled out an old chestnut.
	"Then why don't you buy me a drink while you wait? I'll keep you
company," she suggested.
	Her eyes were too clear to be a lush. She was coming on to Sam
and he didn't know why. He figured a drink was a cheap (relatively) way
of finding out. It put the ball back in her court.
	"I'm supposed to meet my husband here," she said. "He says he's
here on business, but I know what kind of business that is."
	Sam stared with what he hoped was a thick expression.
	"Monkey business," she confided in a lowered voice. "He's here 
with some board person or secretary or wife. A woman can tell these
things."
	Sam nodded. He figured she'd get to the point if he let her talk.
	"Do you find me attractive?" she switched subjects.
	"Sure, you're a knock-out," Sam allowed.
	"Well, I wish my husband felt the same way," she said and then
went on as if an idea had just occurred to her, "Say, why don't you show
me how pretty I am upstairs while you wait for that cab."
	Sitting in his car, Sam wondered why he had bolted the obvious
offer. She was a good-looking broad. Her approach was clumsy, but that
was a good thing. It meant she hadn't practiced picking up men over and
over before.
	Something in his gut told him she was no good. It was too easy and
she was too classy. But Sam couldn't help second-guessing. Was it some
inferiority complex that made him think she was too good for him?
	He felt dumber and dumber as he sat in his car. He could be
squirting off between her exquisitely turned thighs right now if he
wasn't a sap. Had living with Staci made him afraid to go with her?
	Finally, fortunately, Tami came out of the hotel and headed for
her car. Sam didn't have to obsess over the lost opportunity any more.
He followed her through a boring, routine day.
	At least he had something to share with Staci. Her response was
not what he expected.
	"What am I supposed to say? Good boy? Keep that dick in your
pants?" Staci was huffy. "You don't have to report in, Sam. I just
don't want you to lie."
	"I wasn't reporting in," in Sam snapped back, "I was hoping you'd
tell me why I turned her down."
	"You said it yourself, it didn't feel right," Staci pointed out,
"You have instincts, Sam, even if you don't know why. And I can't tell
you because I wasn't there. I don't know what you saw or sensed to scare
you off and, obviously, neither do you."
	It seemed like just another argument at the time.
	-----
	After his initial discovery, Tami DuPeuys became a waste of time.
As far as Sam could determine, she was having an affair with Allen
Lister and no one else. She met him two or three times a week and they
played house.
	Sam wasn't sure how Mr. DuPeuys was taking the news. The old man
was muttering under his breath.
	"I suppose you want more money," DuPeuys said finally.
	"That's not why I called," Sam said. "You made an interesting 
offer and I went for it. I didn't find any other men. I don't expect
any more money. I called as a courtesy to keep good relations with my
client."
	Sam stopped short of telling the old man that he had already paid
enough for the extra work anyway.
	"Then I thank you for your information and I will refer you to
anyone that needs a detective," he said.
	"That's what I was shooting for," Sam said easily.
	Sam felt like a sharp business man when he hung up the phone. This
time he might actually get some good buzz among the monied set. It had
backfired before. He had a good name with whores and a couple of cops.
	Staci walked in, stood in front of his desk and stared at Sam.
	"What do you want, doll? A good swift kick in the butt?" Sam
asked breezily.
	"I want you to describe that redhead at the hotel," Staci said,
"In as much detail as you remember."
	"Auburn," Sam said, "Blue eyes- light eyes, spooky, like a
malamute, strong, straight nose, not too long, mouth that just fit, not
wide, not small, but on the small side if we're splitting hairs. About
5-7 I'd guess from her sitting down. I didn't see her stand."
	"I think she's at my desk," Staci said.
	"What does she want?" Sam asked.
	"She says her rat-bastard husband is running around on her," Staci
said. "She wants proof and then she wants to shoot him."
	"What's her name?" Sam asked.
	"Rebecca Lister," Staci said.
	Sam's gut still didn't like her. It was too much of a coincidence.
He hadn't given out his name at the hotel.
	"Tell her I'm at lunch- be back in 15-20 minutes," he said.
	"Why?" Staci asked.
	"I want to meet her on the street, talk to her like I don't know
what she told you," Sam said.
	He listened as Staci made the excuse and waited for the door to
close before coming out of his office.
	"Make sure she's out of the hall," Sam told Staci.
	Staci went to the door and looked. She nodded. Sam walked the other 
way to the freight elevator. He was trying to think what to say.
	Mrs. Lister was the talkative one. Sam saw her eyes narrow when
she saw him. He was walking aimlessly down the sidewalk and pretending
not to see her. She moved straight at him like a falcon swooping down
on a pigeon.
	"Mr. Hill?" she asked when she caught him.
	Sam looked up.
	"Isn't this a co-incidence," she said, "I remember you. I was 
coming to see you about my husband."
	"Excuse me?" Sam said. "Do I know your husband?"
	"Oh, that's right," she said as if she had neglected to let him in
on a private joke, "We were never introduced. I'm Rebecca Lister. Allen
Lister is my husband."
	Sam kept his face impassive. He wanted the information flowing
one direction.
	"Perhaps we ought to continue this in my office- where it's more
private," Sam said, looking around at the people ignoring them left and
right.
	"Mr. Hill, I didn't come to you by accident," she said as Sam led 
her off, "Lincoln, Lincoln DuPeuys, called me to tell me about my husband
and his wife. He gave me your name."
	Sam's gut feeling didn't reverse with that information. There was
something about her that didn't match her story, not in the hotel, not
today.
	"Mr. DuPeuys said he would mention my name to his friends," Sam
said honestly.
	"He's not... Oh, I see you've found him," Staci did an excellent
job of acting as Rebecca Lister preceded Sam into the office.
	Staci kept her mouth shut and stayed seated as Sam led Mrs. Lister
into his office. They would see if she gave Sam the same story.
	"You followed Tami to the hotel where we met, didn't you," Rebecca
asked as she sat down.
	Sam nodded.
	"Then I feel better about you refusing to sleep with me," she said
airily, "And I feel much better about your devotion to duty."
	"You said something about your husband?" Sam prompted her.
	"Yes, well it is silly isn't it? If Tami DuPeuys was sleeping with
my husband, then, obviously, my husband was sleeping with Tami," she
said.
	She was dancing around something. Sam let her dance.
	"Of course, I'd pay you, but don't you have copies of the pictures
or something so you don't have to take more?" she asked. "I mean it's
hardly likely they're still going to be having an affair."
	"Why is that?" Sam asked.
	"Because Lincoln confronted Tami when he called me. They both
know they've been caught," she said.
	"You can use the same evidence Mr. DuPeuys uses," Sam told her.
"It's public record once it's been admitted into evidence. You can
incorporate it into your own proceedings."
	"You don't know my lawyer. He'll want all the evidence for his
own," she said. "Can't you give me copies of the pictures?"
	"I don't keep copies," Sam said. "My client pays for the
investigation. The pictures- and the negatives- are his property."
	"Well then, I guess my attorney will have to understand," she said.
	Sam followed her out of the office and waited while she shut the
door behind herself. Sam looked after her for a moment and then turned
to Staci.
	"What do you think of her now?" he asked.
	"You were right," Staci said. "She doesn't fit. Her tone doesn't
fit her words or her expression doesn't fit her words or her body
language doesn't fit her face, something. But it could just be those 
scary eyes."
	"I kind of like the eyes, but it is jarring to see them on a
redhead," Sam replied.
	"And you didn't want to sleep with her, Sam?" Staci asked.
	"I would have fucked a woman like her in a second, only it wasn't
a woman like her, it was her and it felt like I was on candid camera."
Sam re-created.
	"What did she want?" Staci asked.
	"She wanted to... oh, now? She wanted copies of the pictures I
took of Mrs. DuPeuys and her husband," Sam said.
	"How'd she know about them?" Staci wondered.
	"She said DuPeuys called her and told her about the affair and gave
her my name," Sam said.
	"But you don't keep copies," Staci said.
	"No, I don't keep copies, but I do keep film I don't turn over to
a client," Sam said, trying to look angelic.
	"Okay, translate," Staci said.
	"I've got half a dozen probative, if not definitive shots still in
my camera of the two of them that I never took to DuPeuys. I was done
and paid for Lister. I was stalking new game for a new reward," Sam said.
	"So why didn't you tell Mrs. Lister about them?" Staci asked.
	"Same reason I didn't fuck her," Sam said. "There was something 
missing in the whole deal."
	-----
	Sam wasn't sure what was going on, but he would have bet the next
sexual advance would come from Mrs. Lister. She had approached him
before.
	That was before he saw the papers and really got confused. Lincoln
DuPeuys was dead. There was an obit and no story. He "died suddenly",
newspaper speak for a heart attack- usually. There could be more to it.
	An old man dies on the night he confronts his wife with her 
infidelities? Sam was aching to know the cause of death.
	The phone conversation was far stranger than anything that had
passed between him and Rebecca Lister.
	"Mr. Hill, this is Tami DuPeuys. I wish you'd come to the house
so I can speak to you," her voice was much breathier than Sam had
imagined. "With the tragedy we've all suffered, I was hoping you would
see that it serves no real purpose to bring up my indiscretion."
	"I would like to talk about the tragedy," Sam said. "What time is
good for you?"
	"Lincoln's death has left my life empty, Mr. Hill," she said. "I
am always here."
	She could be as melodramatic as she wanted. Sam wanted a look
around the mansion. The room where Mr. DuPeuys died, if possible. He was
also interested in where she was going with this amnesia request.
	He had little doubt as to her method.
	"I'm going over to screw the new widow," he announced brightly to
Staci, "If I have to, that is."
	"Okay, what?" Staci raised her eyebrows.
	"She invited me to the mansion to convince me that there's no
purpose to revealing her affair." Sam told her.
	"Are you going to agree?" Staci asked.
	"I don't know why she cares. I'm out of it. I got paid. I'm not
involved anymore. Everybody that counts knows about it by now," Sam said.
	"So you're going to let her screw you for nothing?" Staci asked.
	"I'm going to screw her if I have to, to get wherever the old man
died so I can snoop," Sam corrected.
	"Well, it's always good to have a noble excuse," Staci scoffed.
	Mrs. DuPeuys was wearing a coarse linen dress, tied at the waist.
She was back-lit and her shape was a shadow silhouette inside the 
dress. The outline wasn't interrupted by underwear.
	"Mr. Hill, I'm glad to see you," she greeted him.
	"Let me say I was shocked at the timing of your husband's death,"
Sam said by way of condolence, "I'd only worked for him that once."
	"So you must see that bringing out my, um, affair, can only hurt
everyone, Lincoln included," she said.
	Ditzy, that was what she was going for. That didn't square with
the strut Sam first saw. Then again, she was a lousy lay. Maybe the
strut was her highest level of achievement.
	"It's none of my business," Sam said. "I'm not the avenging angel.
I did my job and now I'll work for somebody else."
	"I'm so glad to hear you say that," she softened in voice and body.
	She walked over to Sam and took his hand.
	"Let me show you around the house," she said, "But you've been here
before."
	"I didn't get the tour," Sam said. "I was just conducting business
with... your late husband."
	"You must think I'm awful, Mr. Hill," she said and paused for him
to supply a first name. He didn't and she went on, "Could you ever
understand why I did it?"
	"Your husband said you were lusty, his word," Sam said. "I can
imagine the temptation got too much."
	Tami got a guarded, puzzled look on her face and then her brows
went back up.
	"You mean the temptation for satisfaction," she said as if she had 
solved a riddle, "Well, yes, but not in the way you think. Lincoln was
very capable of pleasing me in bed, but there were so many times he
wasn't there. And Allen was."
	My pants are so hot I've got to have men on demand. Wouldn't you
like to get into my pants and see how hot they are? That was what Sam
heard. He knew better.
	"Like I'm here now?" he asked.
	She didn't bat an eye at his bluntness.
	"I was prepared to bribe your silence with my body. I don't see
why I should deprive you of it because you are reasonable," she said.
	"I am no longer a married woman," she said when Sam didn't respond.
"It wouldn't even be immoral."
	Whatever was going on, she was pushing pretty hard for him to fuck
her. She'd feel a lot more relaxed and Sam would find out more if she
thought her plan was working.
	He still let her take off her dress before he stepped toward her.
Her long torso and the parentheses of her hips were more striking when
she stood naked in front of you. Sam stepped closer and let her unbutton
his shirt.
	She knelt down and undid his pants. Sam let her undress him. It was
nice to have her do it for him. Then she laid him on the bed and began
kissing down his chest. It was opposite in every way from the way she
treated Allen.
	Her kisses quickly led to his cock and there was no hesitation
there. She sucked his cock diligently until Sam could no longer keep
track. He was moving on primal instinct when she crawled up on the bed.
His mouth went to her breasts and his cock played around the arch of her thighs.
	When he moved up into her, he found her like wet satin, clinging
lightly around his cock as he thrust it into her. And she was just
opposite in response. Her hips moved with the same practiced air that
she walked and the same precision and knowing the effect she had on Sam.
	He was thrusting and she was doing the fucking. It was a direct
contrast to her limp reception of Allen. And instead of being a lousy
lay, she was a damn good one.
	"Here's your thank you," Sam groaned and pushed deep into Tina.
	She jerked her hips back and forward to milk out Sam's climax with
a churning cunt. She wasn't a lousy lay when she didn't want to be.
	-----
	"Did she fuck you?" Staci asked.
	"The question is: why did she fuck me," Sam said. "I told her I
had nothing to do with anything. She wants something, but what?"
	"Maybe she wants the same thing as Mrs. Lister," Staci suggested.
	"Copies of the pictures?" Sam asked.
 	"I don't know. She left a message for you to call her," Staci said.
"While you were out fucking the same woman her husband was."
	"Ahh- but she's not a married woman anymore," Sam said.
	"And maybe her old lover doesn't have his balls anymore," Staci
said.
	Rebecca wanted to meet Sam. She suggested the hotel on Demeter.
It was neutral ground, she said. She wanted to discuss Mr. DuPeuys'
death with him. She had suspicions, she said.
	"So, how's your gut?" Sam asked Staci.
	He told her Mrs. Lister's story.
	"Not specifically my area, Sam," Staci protested, "My gut says this
Lister woman wants to fuck you. Why else do you meet at a hotel? And,
forgive the way this sounds, I can't figure out why that is either."
	"She's throwing herself at me because she wants something," Sam
said.
	"Obviously, but what?" Staci responded, "That's the mystery."
	"No feeling about DuPeuys' convenient death?" Sam asked.
	"Even detective-story detectives don't jump to conclusions like
that," Staci said. "If it's suspicious, the cops should be all over it."
	Sam smiled a wicked smile at Staci.
	"You still got that waitress get-up?" he asked.
	-----
	Baker had been to Staci's before. The place had good memories for
him. Staci and Sam had been on the outs and he had gotten to know Staci
a little bit in more than the Biblical sense.
	It didn't take him long to notice Sam's things in the place.
	"You two settling down?" he asked.
	"She won't let me get a place of my own," Sam said, "Insisted I
move in here and not waste the extra rent."
	"Feel it closing in, don't you," Baker teased Sam.
	Sam ignored him. He moved on to business.
	"So, what you got on Lincoln DuPeuys?" Sam asked.
	"He's a dead old man. What's it to me?" Baker asked.
	"I was interested in the M.E.'s ruling," Sam said.
	"I knew you dragged me over to stick your nose into police
business," Baker said.
	"We didn't have to drag very hard," Sam noted as Baker was
distracted by Staci stepping out from behind the curtain.
	Staci couldn't remember what she was wearing the last time she was
a topless waitress for the two. She was sure this was better. The
glasses, ice, tongs, Scotch and her tits were on the tray as before.
This time, however, she was wearing thong panties and high heels.
	She had enough trouble with her back, holding up her huge knockers.
She hardly ever wanted to be thrown forward onto her toes in addition,
but she made the sacrifice for Baker.
	"And it's hardly police business if the old man dies of natural 
causes," Sam went on. "Are you saying you suspect foul play?"
	"I'm not saying anything," Baker said without looking at Sam.
	He made himself a drink, 'accidentally' brushing against Staci's
nipples when he picked up the tongs, when he set them down and again
when he picked up and set down the bottle of Scotch. Her nipples
responded by popping erect.
	"So, what was the M.E.'s verdict?" Sam asked again as he poured
his own drink.
	"It isn't in yet. The tests haven't come back," Baker said.
	His eyes were still on Staci. Her butt was a thing to behold, split
by the narrow strip of her thong, as she set down her tray. She walked
over to Baker, took his drink away from him and settled down in his lap.
	She took his right hand and put it on her left breast. She shifted
his drink to her other hand and reached back to wrap his left arm around
so she could put his left hand on her right tit. She held up his glass
in an unspoken offer to give him a drink.
	"I can see what you're trying to do here," Baker blustered, but 
didn't take his hands off Staci's tits.
	"He can," Staci confirmed, "I can feel it poking against my bottom."
	Sam could see Baker blush. He decided not to tease him about it.
	"And you guys aren't sniffing around to see what you can find in
the meantime?" Sam asked.
	"What's your part in it?" Baker said crossly, although Sam was sure
he was reacting to the interruption of his concentration on Staci rather
than Sam's prying into police matters.
	"I thought it was strange," Sam said. "I'd just called the guy,
told him his wife was only fucking one guy on the side. I hear he was
going to confront her and then he ends up dead."
	Sam had gotten Baker's attention.
	"Yeah," he said, fondling Staci's breasts thoughtfully, "That is a
bit convenient, isn't it."
	"And it could be nothing," Sam granted, "I was just curious."
	"Dammit!" Baker grunted and took his hands off Staci's tits to slap
them on the arms of his chair. "Now I'm going to have to check that out."
	"But you don't have to do it right now," Staci cooed, turning to
rub her breasts on his chest.
	Baker melted back into his chair.
	Sam knocked back his drink and stood up.
	"I'm going to take a piss," he announced.
	Baker's barb had stung at first- settling in, indeed! But as Sam
emptied his bladder, he felt better about it than he had since he gave
in to Staci's insistence.
	She was in there doing God knows what to Baker. He didn't care one
bit. She was still his Staci when he needed her and to hell and fuck all
for the rest. They were buddies. The idea was finally seeping into his
thick skull.
	He primped for a while in the bathroom to give Staci time. When he
came out, Baker was gone.
	"He said to tell you thanks," Staci said.
	"For the tip about DuPeuys," she added hastily.
	"I didn't blow him," Sam said, "I didn't think he was thanking me
for that. I hope he thanked you for that."
	"A little jealous?" Staci teased.
	"Surprisingly, not a bit," Sam said. "It makes me think more
highly of you, if you want to know the truth."
	Staci had her truth-detector on high. She seemed satisfied Sam was
leveling with her.
	"I didn't blow him," she said, "He likes to fuck my tits too much."
	That was good for Baker, Sam thought. At best he thought of fucking
tits as a form of foreplay. Maybe Staci liked it. Then she was getting
something Sam wasn't giving her.
	Staci kicked off the heels and pulled the thong out of the crack
of her ass with a sigh.
	"So," she said, holding out her arms and turning around, "More
sexy or less sexy."
	Since they were being honest, Sam told her the truth.
	"Less sexy," he said, "With that stuff on you're making a point
about what you want. Now you're just naked. That could mean anything."
	"Then I could walk down the street this way and no one would think
anything about it?" she tested.
	"Except for the smell coming from your squishing little excited
pussy," Sam teased, "No, really, I bet you'd have less trouble than you
think. I'm not saying there wouldn't be some disturbing fantasies going
on, but I bet most men would be afraid of you. I bet most of them would
be overly polite."
	"Am I that ugly?" she pouted.
	"No, they'd snicker at an ugly naked woman," Sam said. "You'd 
scare them because you are a challenge to their virility. They'd be
afraid you'd expect more than they could provide."
	"So I wouldn't get laid because I'm too sexy?" she questioned.
	"No worries there," Sam said. "Some guys like a challenge."
	He had been creeping toward her as they talked. Now he rushed her
and carried her down to the floor. There was enough sex in the air that
his cock was throbbing. Maybe her giving it to Baker turned him on.
	He found she had been affected also when he wrestled down his
zipper and pushed his cock into her wet cunt. She was more than ready
for him.
	"You might run into a confident kind of guy that would knock you
down and fuck you on the spot," he said as he thrust into her.
	"I'd fight him!" Staci declared.
	Sam caught her hands before she could bash them into him. He
pulled them out beside her head and let his weight hold her hips down.
Staci struggled, but she couldn't stop Sam from fucking her.
	Baker wasn't stupid, Sam mused as he watched Staci's magnificent
rack wobble and flop on her chest as she twisted under him. He was used
to her tits. Sometimes he forgot how lucky he was to watch the twin
beauties bob and quiver as he shoved his cock into Staci.
	It wasn't hard to imagine. Her cunt was just as nice and that was
the part quivering and seething around his cock as he fucked it in and 
out of her. At the moment, it was the only part of his skin in contact
with her as well. The mock (although Staci was struggling with all her
might- at least with her upper half) struggle was a nice setting, but
it was his cock and her cunt that was making them both careen towards
orgasm.
	"Now you feel like you've gotten even?" Staci gasped after he had
shot off inside her.
	"I have no idea," Sam said. "I just know you were making me horny, 
intentionally or not, I don't care, and I did something about it."
	"Well, I'm glad," she said, letting it go, "Baker got me hot, but
he didn't exactly give me any relief."
	"Well, babe, you need relief, you know where to come," Sam gloated.
	"I know," Staci said. "Every woman in town knows."
	-----
	Maybe that was what was frustrating Rebecca Lister. Everyone knew 
Sam was the man to clean your pipes and he wouldn't plumb hers.
	She seemed to have planned their meeting with the intention of
not letting him escape again. She left a note with her room number at
the desk so Sam would have to come to her room to meet her.
	He was prepared to find her naked on the bed with her legs spread 
when he opened the door. She wasn't even naked.
	"I thought it would be more private in here," she said.
	"What do you want to say that needs privacy?" Sam asked.
	"Don't you think it's strange that Lincoln died the very night he
confronted Tami about her affair?" she asked.
	There it was again. It was the obvious question, phrased correctly,
but Rebecca wasn't selling it. It was like she was a bad actress reading 
a script. She didn't sound interested at all.
	"It is one of the things that might make you say, hmmm," Sam
conceded.
	"Are we the only ones that feel that way?" she asked.
	"I haven't taken a poll," Sam said. "I don't think its a hard
connection to make, but that's a lot different than being sure there's
something strange about it."
	"How would you be sure there was something strange about it?" she
asked.
	That came out real clear. She was interested in that answer.
	"Whoa, lady, I'm not involved in this. I'm out of it," Sam said.
"If I was a cop, I'd look at the Medical Examiner's report."
	She got up and put some ice cubes in a glass.
	"And what does that report say?" she asked.
	"I don't know, I'm not a cop," Sam said patiently.
	"Well, I think it was too much of a co-incidence, only I don't
know who to suspect," she said firmly.
	Sam thought she was going to get water to put in her glass with
the ice cubes. Instead, she rushed him. She was all over him, hands
under his coat, face pressed to his.
	"Mr. Hill, you have turned me down three times, you owe it to my
honor to make love to me today," she demanded. "The past days have left
me desperate. I'm no longer sure who to trust."
	Sam had the same argument he had used with Tami. She was desperate.
He believed that. If he refused her, it would put her on her guard and
might make her dangerous. He's have an easier time finding out what was
going on by accepting her sexual bribe.
	Only in her case he meant it. It had been enjoyable to overcome
his concept of Tami as a lousy lay. Sam didn't think fucking Rebecca
would bring such a revelation.
	It didn't make any difference to his cock. When Rebecca had Sam
down to his underwear, she felt safe enough to take off her clothes. Sam
had been accurate. She was a knock-out.
	Her breasts were a bit smaller than Tami's, but they were firmer
and higher. She had curves where Tami went straight down to her hips.
The  swoop had a hump around her pelvic bone and then swelled into her
hips.
	Sam's cock said hello through the flap in his boxers before he
pulled them down. His cock didn't doubt her motives. His cock didn't care
about her motives. It wanted to be inside the woman in front of it.
	"Now I see what they mean," Rebecca said as she stared at his cock.
	They were sure busy. They were all over town telling stories about
him. Sam stopped thinking about them when Rebecca reached out to stroke
his cock.
	"I understand you like to put this thing all the way down a
woman's throat, whether she likes it or not," she said in a sultry voice.
"I hope you don't mind too much when they like it."
	She wasn't a cocksucker. She was a cock swallower. She leaned over 
to lick along the top of his cock to make him pliable and then pulled
Sam up on the bed to fuck her face.
	It felt like it felt when Sam and his lover were leaning back on
their hands, fucking with just their groins meeting. His cock was
pointing almost directly down as he lay over her head and humped his cock
into her throat. It wasn't like being with a woman at all. It was like
fucking a realistic sex toy laying between her legs.
	That didn't make his cock any less happy. It didn't care that Sam
was laying on the bed with no other contact than his cock fucking deep
between Rebecca's lips. It was satisfied to have its entire length
swallowed up by her welcoming mouth and throat and feel its balls
bounce on her chin.
	But Sam was sabotaging his cock's happiness. There was something
missing here, difficulty in deep-throating him for one. And it felt
oddly perverted without any other human contact. He couldn't even see
her sucking his cock in this position.
	As oddly distant as she was, Rebecca picked up on his problem. Her
hands came up to grab his ass and she slipped down to pull his cock out 
of her throat.
	"You do eat pussy don't you?" she asked. "Maybe I better put you
to work so you earn your fun."
	Sam didn't stop to analyze why it was better. It just was. His
balls settled on her nose as he fucked her throat. He had her soft ass
in his hands as he fucked her face. He wasn't even thinking about what
his tongue was doing. It was simply another outlet for the sensations
building up as his cock plunged all the way into her mouth.
	Her hands were like claws, her nails digging into his cheeks when
he first spurted cum down her gullet. She clamped him in place with his
cock forced all the way down her throat and moved her head. Sam thought
he could feel his cock bending in the middle in her throat when she did
that. It was a unique experience.
	She begged him to fuck her afterwards, but she wasn't convincing.
She took no too easily to be as interested as she pretended.
	-----
	"All the way with no fuss?" Staci was most interested in Rebecca's
technique.
	Sam mentioned her sexual bribery because it was relevant- and
Staci had warned him about covering stuff up. He was interested in her
input about Rebecca's suspicions. Staci wanted details about the blow-job.
	"I was laying over her head, you know, holding myself up on my
knees and she grabbed my cock, licked around the head, and put it in her
mouth. She pulled down on my ass and the next thing I know I'm flat on
the bed with my cock jammed all the way into her face," Sam explained.
	"She's a hell of a woman," Staci said with a trace of awe.
	"But what about her suspicions?" Sam asked.
	"You were suspicions, weren't you?" Staci pointed out. "She has 
reason to hope Tami's involved. She probably doesn't like her. Most
women get edgy when you fuck their husbands."
	"But she wasn't convincing. You saw how she is," Sam kept on. "She
only got convincing when she was asking how to prove foul play."
	"Maybe she wants to play detective," Staci said. "You do."
	The problem was Rebecca didn't say a thing out of line. It was the
way she said things. It was the difference between her manner and the
words. Staci couldn't see it and Sam couldn't figure it out.
	He tried to convince himself it wasn't his problem. He was out of
it. He'd done his good citizen part. But he wanted to know.
	Baker let him stop that struggle when he knocked on the door of
the apartment.
	"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," he grinned, clearly hoping
the opposite. "Thought I'd drop in and tell you the M.E's report came in."
	"And..." Sam prompted.
	"And nothing," Baker said. "Heart failure. He wasn't real bad
off but the coroner said that it happens. Sometimes the big one gets you
out of the blue and sometimes guys that should be dead survive attack
after attack. But there's no finding of misadventure."
	"And nobody has any suspicions?" Sam asked.
	"Only you," Baker said. "And you have squat for evidence."
	"What about the pictures?" Sam asked.
	"What pictures? The squad was trying to revive an old man. There
was no indication of foul play. Nobody searched the house," Baker said,
"Anyway, having an affair doesn't mean you killed your husband or
half the marriages would end in murder, not divorce."
	"The other man's wife thinks it's suspicious," Sam said.
	"Gee! I better rush over and arrest someone," Baker mocked Sam.
"That's hard evidence. Or did you think so because you were hard at the
time?"
	He was right of course. Suspicion didn't mean anything if the old
man keeled over from a heart attack.
	"My interrogation techniques are a trade secret," Sam shot back.
	Baker laughed at that.
	While it relieved Sam of the burden of letting the case go, it
saddled him with the squirmy feeling in his gut again.
	"It's not like I have a feeling and have to figure out how to
prove it," Sam complained to Staci. "I just have a feeling and I don't
know what it means."
	"It means you've run into a couple of predatory bitches that have
been up to their eyes in deception so long that even they don't remember
the truth," Staci said. "I know bad acting when I see it."
	"Want to see some now?" Sam asked.
	Staci's heart picked up its beat.
	"What do you want now?" she tried to sound bored.
	"You're Tami DuPeuys. I'm Lincoln. I've got some pictures to show
you," Sam said.
	"Oh," Staci tried not to let her disappointment show. "And I'm
supposed to guess how she kills him?"
	"You just try to remember you're a woman that married for money
and sugar daddy wants to pull the plug," Sam said. "I'm hoping I'll get
a flash that at least tells me where to look next."
	"You're going to keep on this?" Staci was exasperated.
	"Just act, will you? You've got more chance of understanding this
woman's mind than I do. There's something missing. Help me, will you?"
Sam asked.
	Staci had never met Tami DuPeuys. She tried to think how she would
feel in the same situation. It wasn't a good fit.
	"See here, you hot pants little bitch, I've got evidence. I can
toss you out on your ass," Sam cackled in an imitation of Lincoln.
	"What do you want from me, honey? What can I do to show you how
sorry I am?" Staci responded.
	The real Tami had emphasized that Lincoln was still a lusty old
man. It hadn't occurred to Sam that she might try to bribe him.
	"You're going to give it to me, just me, from now on," Sam
extemporized. "And you're going to open up that ass for me."
	"Sure, honey, you're the only one I really love," Staci said.
	Sam's focus had shifted. Staci had given him what he wanted with
her first words. She was a genius and he was a genius for using her. Now
he wanted to use her in another way. He was still in character, but he
wasn't thinking about the case when he told her he wanted her ass.
	Staci didn't know Sam was done with the role-play. She was still
trying to think like a gold-digger.
	She wasn't sure what was happening when Sam roughly grabbed her
arm and pushed her back to the kitchen area. There was a bottle of salad
oil on the counter. Sam grabbed it and pushed Staci down to sprawl over
the kitchen table.
	"What does this have to do with the case?" Staci screeched as Sam
yanked down the sweat pants she was lounging in.
	"An old man needs his revenge," Sam said, not wanting to betray his
intent at that moment.
	His cock was standing out spar-hard as he opened his pants and let
them drop. Staci's ass was the most inviting ass in the world to him
right then. He used his left hand to hold her down and tipped the oil
bottle in his right. The oil ran down the crack of her ass. Sam put his
cock against her asshole so it would run over the head.
	"No, Sam! No now! That's for special occasions!" Staci protested.
	Sam set the oil down and put both hands on her shoulders to hold
her as he pushed his cock forward. Her ass tried to wiggle out of his
way. It only helped him work his cock past her sphincter.
	"This is a special occasion, baby," Sam growled, "I'm going to fuck
you up the ass!"
	"But you have to solve the case first," Staci was whining now.
	"I think you just solved it," Sam said as he bided him time, 
rocking gently with the head of his cock in her asshole.
	"What?" she was confused but interested.
	"Lincoln wants his honey," Sam went back into character.
	He pushed and found Staci still was not relaxed. Too bad. He'd
started and he wasn't going to quit. He pushed an inch and then another
into her asshole.
	"I didn't figure she'd try to bribe him with sex," Sam grunted
as he pushed deeper into Staci's ass.
	"I didn't cheat on you, Sam! Why are you doing this to me?" Staci
began to screech again.
	"Because it feel so good!" Sam said as he finally came up tight
against her rear.
	"No, Sam, it hurts! Please, honey. don't do this now!" her pleas
were music to Sam's ears.
	He felt his cock swell up with her protests. It made her tight,
hot hole all the more inviting. He held her down and ass-fucked her.
	It only took a little while for her asshole to release its death-
grip on his cock and Staci to start grunting from deep in her chest as
he rammed his cock up her ass. She didn't cum with a cock in her ass, but
that didn't mean there wasn't anything in it for her.
	It was like an ultimate symbol of her need. Ultimate because she
didn't have any pleasure and she was only an unwilling instrument of
someone else's lust.
	Sam didn't have to reach that far into his psyche. Her ass was
tight and her butt felt great against his belly when he shoved his
cock to the hilt in her tiny, round backdoor. This was one of the times
he liked making her take it for its own sake. It made his cock so happy.
	Staci was a little sullen when he let her up with an ass full of
cum. Sam was not in the least apologetic. He hadn't hurt her, at least
not as much as he did when he spanked her, and it felt good. It didn't
always have to be heaven for both of them.
	And he had an excuse.
	"I think you gave me the key," he said to the sulking woman.
	Staci eyed him suspiciously.
	"I thought she'd beg and promise and plead with him not to throw
her out," Sam said. "I never thought she might turn on the sex appeal."
	"It's her only weapon," Staci said, still scowling, "She got him
with sex. He has all the power. It's the only thing she had to offer,
but how does that lead to him dying?"
	"She fucked him to death," Sam said.
	Staci snorted.
	"I don't know- maybe amyl nitrate or something to help him have
the big one," Sam said, "But I bet he died in the saddle."
	"That's going to be a breeze to prove," Staci scoffed.
	"I haven't gotten that far," Sam admitted. "I needed some clue to
how they did it- if they did it- before I could think about that."
	"They?" Staci arched an eyebrow.
	Sam hadn't realized he had used the word, but that came to him in a
rush as well.
	"Freudian slip," Sam said, "But it ties up the thing with Mrs.
Lister. Why would she be getting vibes about foul play? Because her
husband was acting funny."
	"Or because she hated Tami DuPeuys," Staci stuck to her own theory.
	-----
	Disagreement aside, Staci was willing to work with Sam in piecing
together a few scenarios. She was willing to fuck him again when they 
went to bed, so he knew she wasn't too mad about the encounter on the
kitchen table.
	Staci felt it was possible for Tami to carry out the deed on her
own, perhaps sitting astride her husband and waiting for the moment to
spring the popper on him. Sam favored the infuriating arrival of her
lover and a high blood-pressure struggle with Allen holding Lincoln and
Tami administering the fatal drug.
	With many minor alterations possible, it could have happened that
way. That left the hard part.
	"It's nice to think these things up, but how are you going to prove
them," Staci harped on the hole in Sam's fantasies.
	"Make myself a pest," Sam said.
	"And then they'll say: oh all right, we did it, now leave us
alone?" she smirked.
	"If they're innocent, they'll call the police," Sam said, "If
they're not, they'll have to do something. Then they might make a
mistake."
	Sam had an idea what they might do. It was no mystery to Staci
either.
	"Sam, that's stupid," she scolded, "They'll have to get rid of you.
That's not a plan. That's suicide."
	"They can't get rid of me. That's too much co-incidence. The cops
would be all over that for sure," Sam said, trying to sound more
confident than he felt.
	"You think we can rig that camera gizmo for a belt buckle?" he
asked to change the subject.
	"So you can tape your own murder?" Staci fumed.
	It wouldn't have done any good to remind her how she brushed off
his warning of danger the last time they used the camera. He knew this
was a bigger risk than posing as a prostitute, even if that did lead
to a death threat.
	He just tried to work out the plan to make the (possible) murderers
nervous. Staci was refusing to help him kill himself, although she was
no longer openly hostile about the idea.
	He could go to the widow and put the pressure on her to fuck him.
He could let the suspicious nature of her husband's death drop as a way
to increase the pressure on her.
	That would make it to easy for her to re-create her husband's
death, if she, in fact, did kill him. It was also patently illegal if
she was innocent.
	Sam didn't want to die to prove his theory and he didn't want to 
end up in prison on a righteous offense.
	He could try to put pressure on her accomplice, if Allen Lister
was involved. That he could do by asking embarrassing questions. The
most Lister could do was get a restraining order. Other than trying to
kill him, of course.
	He wanted a plan that didn't have him ending up dead if he was
right. He'd be much more comfortable betting the other way.
	Mrs. Lister's call came out of the blue. She was the wild card in
this. She was motivated to help him and she had an obvious in with his
suspects. He began to weave her into the plan before he hung up the 
phone.
	"What did she want?" Staci asked.
	"She wanted to know if everyone was going to let this drop, or
what," Sam said. "I set up a meeting to discuss the evening DuPeuys
died with her."
	"You liked that blow-job, didn't you," Staci accused.
	Sam outlined his plan, fine-tuning it as he went. Rebecca Lister
could be his fly on the wall. She could mention, to her husband, and by
reference, Tami, what Sam was thinking.
	She could get the wheels rolling and Sam could stay on the outside
and observe. Staci liked the plan better than his others, but she had
her doubts how outside Sam would stay. He had to be close to get his
evidence.
	"What about the danger to her?" Staci asked.
	"She's the go-between. That's the genius," Sam said. "They don't
get rid of my suspicion by getting rid of her. In fact, they lose their
access to my progress and make me real suspicious- going to the cops
suspicious- if they do anything to her."
	Staci agreed with that. She still didn't think Sam was telling her
everything. He wasn't. The kicker was telling Tami that Sam wanted more
of the same to keep his mouth shut. He did have to be close to get the
goods. He didn't have to fuck her, but he did have to confront her.
	And, like all plans, it went wrong from the start.
	-----
	Sam woke up between satin sheets. His head ached and there was a
body beside him. He didn't know where he was and he couldn't remember
what happened.
	The body next to him moved. A pleasantly fluid weight pressed on
his chest. It felt like a breast.
	"He's coming around. Turn it on," a voice said from beside him.
	He felt the bed sag and another weight come at him from the other
side. That weight had breasts too.
	"Good morning, Sammy-poo," said the weight. "You can say anything
you want. There's no sound on the video."
	His head was starting to clear. He was looking into the cold blue
eyes of Rebecca Lister. For the first time he saw why Staci described 
them as scary.
	Bits and pieces came back to him. Outlining his plan to Mrs.
Lister, feeling woozy, blackness, a drink before fucking, he didn't have
to remember it all to get the gist.
	"You!" he accused.
	Her head moved in front of his face. From across the room it
would look like she was kissing him.
	"No reason to let the lip readers spoil our fun," she said, "Yes.
Me. From the start. You worried me when you had no sexual interest in me.
That wasn't what I had heard."
	Tami was crawling over him, carefully keeping the covers over her
hips. She wasn't concerned about exposing her breasts.
	Sam found out why. He tried to move his hands and found he was tied
like he was crucified to the bed. They wouldn't want him to look
unwilling on their tape.
	He looked around the room. They giggled, assuming he was concerned
about the camera angle. In a way, he was. He saw his pants. They were
rumpled on a dresser. The belt was facing vaguely in their direction.
	That wasn't the important thing. His camera did do sound.
	"Don't worry, you're good at this," Rebecca taunted him, "You do
it all the time for your hot chicks. Too bad it's your downfall- leaving
evidence that you're fucking both the grieving widows."
	"I'll be so shocked to find out what you did to poor Lincoln,"
Tami put in. "I know it was wrong to give in to your seduction, but I
never dreamed you wanted my husband out of the way."
	"It took poor Allen's murder for us to put it together," Rebecca 
went on, "We'll be so horrified when we testify."
	"You wanted him out of the way from the start," Sam said. "You
wanted me to suspect him after out little meeting at the hotel."
	"And you were so thick you didn't get it," Rebecca got mean.
	It was odd having two women miming a torrid threesome while they
fit you for the chair. Sam evidently wasn't co-operating because he
felt a hand squeeze his balls. He jumped.
	"There, that looks more like you're having a good time," Rebecca
smirked and squeezed his balls again.
	"I wasn't thick," Sam roared, "Your acting stunk. I finally fucked 
you to see if you'd do it- a lezzy dyke like you."
	"Oooooooo, that stings," Rebecca laughed at him. "Ill cry all the
was to Barbados when Tami can get Lincoln's money out of the lawyer's
greedy hands."
	They played with him for an hour and a half, dipping under the
covers to feign blow-jobs and crawling over him in a travesty of sex.
Then it was over. Tami cut the camera and Rebecca put a cloth over his
face.
	"Bye-bye, Mr. Hill," she said, pouring something sickly sweet onto
the cloth, "Just like poor Lincoln."
	-----
	It was the first time Sam was glad Catalano was such a dick. And
it was the first time he had a sense that someone in the department had
a sense of irony.
	He and Baker laughed about the women trying to distract Catalano
during the interrogation.
	"Lord knows I had a woody, but Catalano was disgusted. I wonder if 
he's a fag?" Baker chuckled.
	"How bad did Catalano feel that he couldn't hang the murders on
me?" Sam asked.
	"As bad as he hates you, Sam, I think he got to hate them more,"
Baker said. "It was like he took their games personal- in a bad way."
	"I still feel lucky he wasn't sitting there across from me," Sam
said.
	"Come on, Sam, I knew you didn't do it the minute I saw the set
up," Baker said. "She sapped you down with a frying pan and the gun goes
flying halfway across the room? If she hit you that hard you'd be dead.
Besides, I've seen how much you like shooting people. You'd have got him
between the eyes if it was you."
	Sam winced at the bad joke. Baker was an asshole.
	"You were lucky, though," Baker went on. "The real clincher came
after they knocked you out. The DuPeuys woman was scared they'd killed 
you. Lister said it would only kill an old man like her husband. That's
pretty much a confession."
	"Any chance they'll still get off?" Sam asked.
	"Their story is that Allen killed the old man and they were scared
he'd kill them too. His wife had to shoot him in self-defense," Baker
said.
	"What about the stuff with me?" Sam asked.
	"Most of it didn't happen and the stuff that did was because you
were blackmailing them for sex," Baker said. "You'll like the papers in
the morning."
	Sam waited for Baker to crack.
	"We never found the tape you said they made. Word is, the defense
team leaked it to the press," Baker said.
	Staci sat up straight in Baker's lap suddenly and spoke for the
first time.
	"Lieutenant, I think you've wet your pants," she gasped.
	"Yeah," Baker sighed, "But I like them wet that way."
	Baker had been hoping for another threesome with Staci and Sam,
but neither Staci nor Sam wanted to make that a tradition. He settled
easily for a lap dance from Staci. She had succeeded in coaxing the cum
from Baker with her naked asscheeks stroking him through his pants.
	You had to understand that to notice that anything was happening.
Baker was inhumanly calm as she aroused him and even when he came.
Staci shifted to sitting on the arm of the chair and let Baker adjust
his pants.
	"What I don't get is why Allen went along with them at first,"
Staci said.
	"Are you kidding?" Sam exploded, "Trophy wife that fizzles in bed,
promises hubbie a threesome with a hot chick. The only problem is her
husband."
	"Men think with their dicks too much," Staci announced, "Couldn't
he see that his wife wasn't going to be any better and he was going to 
have to share Tami?"
	"He didn't want to," Sam said. "He was drooling over having them
both in bed."
	"Was it worth it?" Staci asked Sam, "You were in bed with both of
them."
	"Maybe if my hands weren't tied," Sam teased.
	"I see it's time to go before I get dragged into some domestic
violence," Baker said and stood up.
	-----
	Baker both understood and had no clue. It was exactly time to go,
but there wasn't any jealousy driving Sam and Staci's teasing. It was
only naughtiness bubbling up.
	"If I was a woman running around without any pants, I'd be a little
nicer to my Lord and Master," Sam warned Staci after Baker left.
	"You want to play Lord and Master again?" Staci feigned boredom.
	Her motor was most definitely running. She had asked for it like
this the last time Baker was over. Sam liked the trend.
	"I'm not playing anything," Sam told her sternly.
	He came out of his chair and grabbed her wrist. He pulled her
around and smacked her on the ass.
	"Now you get over there into bed and you think carefully while I
take my clothes off," Sam told her, "You think about being a good little
girl and what happens to bad little girls."
	Sam's handprint was a burning reminder, or inciter, as Staci walked
across the room and climbed into their bed. She sat there, not quite
defiant, but also without taking off the rest of her clothes.
	"You know, that's just about right," Sam snorted as he looked at
her, "Clear the decks for action. Forget about the small stuff."
	Sam sounded more menacing than he looked. He was aroused, but his
cock had not caught the fire. He dick was in no condition to menace.
	"We can't forget your dick, Sam," Staci taunted him, "That's where
you keep your brains."
	"I'll give you brains," Sam said as he crawled up the bed from the
bottom, "I'll give 'em to you after I've rolled you over and beat the
shit out of yours."
	Staci backed up the bed as Sam advanced. She hit the headboard and
stopped. Sam didn't need to plan so much any more. The straps had become
a fixture shortly after he moved in. He pulled one wrist to the corner
of the headboard and tied it off short. Staci clawed at the knot and
made it easy to trap her remaining hand and tie it to the other side.
	Sam lifted her legs, sat down between them and let her thighs drop
down over his. His cock barely reached her cunt. That was his plan.
	"Is it worth it to be tied up in bed with me?" Sam asked.
	Staci stared defiantly at Sam and kept her mouth shut. It didn't
change Sam's plans. He'd make her talk.
	The distance between them was perfect for Sam to rub his cock
along Staci's slit. There was almost enough to penetrate, but not quite.
He rotated his hips to make his cock press against her, as if it was
sticking its nose in the gates to see what was inside.
	Staci began to squirm. Sam took his cock between his fingers and
bounced it on the hood of her clit. Staci bounced back in response.
He drew his cock up and around her slit again. It had grown enough to
push the head into Staci, but he refused.
	A moan broke her silence. It didn't take much longer for her to
speak.
	"Okay, it's big now," Staci gasped, "Put it in me. I give up.
Fuck me!"
	It didn't make any difference if it was fast or slow, easy or hard,
Staci was begging for it. That was all she had to do. Sam moved forward 
and sank a couple of inches of cock in her.
	"Is this what you want? Is this what you need?" Sam taunted her
as he fucked the two inches in and out.
	He put his hand on her belly and flicked her clit with his thumb.
Staci growled. Her ass ground around on the bed trying to get enough
from Sam's finger and cock to make her cum.
	"Are you thinking now? Planning your day? Picking out your
wardrobe? Or are you just a mindless cunt that needs cock?" Sam teased
her.
	"Please, Sam, fuck me! Make me cum!" Staci begged, "That's all
I want. That's all I can think of."
	Usually it took a big squeeze to pull Staci's trigger and then she
went off like an explosion. This time, Sam had just strained the trigger
and made her wait with the hammer trembling for a long time before he
let her go off.
	He scooted forward and gave her most of his cock to play with.
Staci's heels were digging into the bed, she pulled on her restraints
as she tried to move enough on his cock to cum. As her groans began 
ending in more of a whine, he put his finger back on her clit and helped.
	After she came, he stripped off her top and bra and loosened the
straps holding her so he could pull her down onto the bed.
	"Now you know who rules your mind," Sam gloated as he pushed his
cock all the way inside her.
	"Sam, let me have my hands, please," Staci asked. "This time let
me hold you."
	She sounded serious. Sam let her loose with a tickle of doubt, but
she put her arms around him and held him as he fucked her. Her hands
roamed his back. She grabbed his ass and jerked when she wanted him
to come in hard and deep. They fucked like normal people.
	"Tired of being tied up?" Sam asked as he lay over her when they 
were done.
	"That time I didn't need it," she said, "You know I like it, but
right now it felt special enough just to be with you."
	"Like we're starting to trust each other?" Sam asked.
	"I don't have to trust you," she corrected. "I know what you're
going to do. But maybe I felt better about that tonight."
	She had passed all his tests in the last weeks. Maybe he had
passed hers as well.
	Sam was sure it had something to do with living together. Not in
the possessive bad sense, but in the comfortable being available sense.
They'd never fucked like normal people before he moved in.
	"You ever think about marrying me?" Sam asked as he lay on his
back beside Staci.
	"A marriage of convenience?" Staci batted her eyelashes
seductively in direct contrast to the scorn in her voice. "Conveniently
letting you soothe your conscience for screwing everything in a skirt
that crosses your path?"
	"I thought you didn't care about that," Sam recoiled defensively.
	"I don't Sam. I really don't, but what else am I supposed to think
when you threaten marriage?" Staci snorted. "I have no say over your
conscience. I can't stop you from feeling guilty, Lord knows I've tried.
I see signs you're responding, but how do I know you're not just acting?
As for marrying you- I'd rather watch you get hit by a truck."
	Sam hadn't meant to unleash this response. Staci saw his horrified
reaction and softened her tone a bit.
	"I've seen what marriage does to you, Sam," she said. "It makes
you crazy. You get jealous, you turn into a wimp, you become obsessive,
it isn't good for you, Sam, and it would be worse for me."
	"Then I guess I won't propose," Sam said, trying to sound tough.
	"A proposition is good enough for me, Sam," Staci said, sliding
her hand down to where his cock rested against his thigh. "We're a
team. We work well together. I don't want to fuck that up. I think it's
special that we can take that into the bedroom without screwing up our
working relationship. A lot of people can't. I can't believe you can, 
but we do."
	Put that way, Sam was amazed himself. He liked fucking Staci. He
had even learned to appreciate her particular needs. How she had managed
to remain good old Staci through all that was a mystery. She was right.
He did get funny when he thought he was in love.
	She was right about his conscience too. It was a funny thing. He
didn't care that she fucked Baker. Of course she had done it for him.
He was proud that Gumby had gotten a piece. He didn't want to kill
Staci for having other lovers. His conscience only bothered him about 
his own wild wanderings.
	He had to figure out where he got the idea Staci was secretly
resentful of his other women and why it seemed to disappear and then rear
its ugly head. He had to figure that out later. At the moment Staci's
hand had brought his cock erect again. He had something better to do.
	"It's your fault," he growled. "You won't let me fall in love with
you. You might break my nose if I try. All you want is my cock, you
greedy little slut!"
	Sam had turned and was holding Staci by the upper arms. She was 
grinning into his angry mask of a face.
	"You think you're getting what you want?" Sam ranted, "We'll see
if you want this!"
	He threw her back and pushed himself up to throw the covers off
the bed. He grabbed her far ankle and pulled Staci over onto her belly.
He climbed over her to straddle her thighs. 
	"No, Sam, we're not done yet," Staci warned. "You haven't told me
why you wanted to marry me."
	He hadn't and he didn't. He had asked her to make sure she felt
the same way. Marriage had nothing to do with the way he felt about
Staci. Marriage was the spark he felt in the kiss of the girl at the
spa. Marriage was an aching need to have someone.
	Marriage was cold ashes and bitter dregs when that passion soured.
Staci was his buddy, fortunately a buddy of the right sex to fuck. He
liked her. That survived better than love. 
	He had once hated her as much as any of his ex-wives, but that was
over. You could let go of that for a buddy. She had done what she felt
she had to do. He had done the only thing he knew. They worked it out.
The emotional stuff was garbage. You didn't hang onto that kind of
resentment with a buddy. 
	Even if she was a woman, marrying Staci would be queer. They
fucked because they wanted to. That was better than supposed to. The
fact they could fuck anyone they wanted made fucking each other mean
more. It meant they were together because they wanted to be.
	"All I'm telling you is you've got a big butt and I've got
something big for it," Sam said.
	"No! you've got to tie everything up before you can do that!"
Staci screeched.
	"Fuck you, you detective story-reading, big-titted cooze," Sam
replied. "I'm not going to tie you up and I am going to fuck you up the
ass."
	"No, Sam! Not there! Not until we straighten out our
relationship," Staci begged.
	"Beg me to fuck your ass," Sam demanded.
	"No! I don't like it. I never like it. It's dirty and it hurts! I
always argue when you want to do that," Staci argued.
	"Tell me you love it!" Sam demanded.
	"I don't! I hate it!" Staci was contrary.
	Sam put his cock against her anus and leaned over so he hovered 
over Staci's back. He was in place to drive his cock to the hilt in her
asshole with one thrust.
	"Then tell me you love me, or you know what," Sam gloated.
	"I won't! I haAAAHHHHCK! DAMMIT! That HURTS!" Staci screamed.
	###