An agonizing shock speared through my chest into my heart, arching my back; a gale rushed through my sore throat and into my lungs; my eyes flew open, and I tried to make some sense of my surroundings as my abilities to sense and think and breathe great scoops of air with forceful lungs returned to me.
((Colorful dancing lights, every color of the rainbow, shapes, circles, triangles, stars.))
((Multi-layered music, bass massaging my electrified heart, treble tickling my air-starved brain.))
((A semicircle of people standing over me—why are they here? They look so worried. Should I be worried, too?))
“How are you feeling, Miss?” asked a man with his head hovering over mine.
“Uh—fine? What’s—going—on?” I croaked between great, heaving breaths.
He offered me his hand. “Please, let me help you up.” He gently righted me, one hand in mine, the other supporting my shoulder. As he helped me up, I saw Tom being led away, arm-in-arm, by two burly bouncers. “Mister Forrester attacked you, so he is to be ejected from the premises—you’re safe from him. Would you tell me your name?”
“Andrea—um, my pet name is Eupraxia.”
“Would you like me to help you find your handler? I can summarize for him or her what happened, if you aren’t feeling up to it.”
“No, thank you.”
“I insist that we notify your handler.”
“That’s fine.”
“I will not release you until you have told me their name.”
“Moneta.”
“Moneta.”
“Yes.”
“I must get to work having this man prosecuted.”
“Wait.” ((There’s something fucked up going on in Tommy’s brain… I want to know why all that guilt showed through the second before he attacked. And I don’t want him to get in trouble; he’s a nice guy. I did something to piss him off, he doesn’t deserve to go to jail for life.)) “Don’t arrest him,” I demanded. “Bring him back here.”
“But—but he strangled you!”
“I—asked for it.” ((Not literally, but certainly in the colloquial sense of the phrase.)) “I asked for it.”
“From everybody else’s perspective, it looked like… he was trying to murder you.”
“Yes—maybe it looked that way, but—this was some extreme roleplay we were trying out. So real, exciting, dangerous… consensual, too, you should know. Murder roleplay. We’re both adults, we can do crazy things as long as we agree to it.”
“I see. We frown upon such edge play here, Miss.” He was indeed frowning. “We are a safe, sane, and consensual-only venue. You have heard of ‘SSC’. Madam Moneta would have explained it to you if you did not already understand.”
“Of course I’ve heard of ‘SSC’,” I lied. “We won’t be doing any more ‘edge play’ here, we can go—to—he can bring me to his place tonight and we can do it there. Please, bring him back.”
“If you insist there is no enmity, Miss… I will unban him.” Then his voice was deep with disapproval, if not disgust, as he lectured, “But if you two try your so-called risk-aware ‘consensual’ kink again within the borders of these premises, or even on the sidewalk or the street out front, you will both be banned. No-one in their right mind would consent to such dangerous acts, and we do not tolerate the risk of grave injury at Asmodeus. Madame Moneta certainly does not. Please wait here for the paramedics to examine you.”
He walked away to talk to Tommy and the burly men. I stood and took a seat within the booth, and there I waited and I waited and 5 anxious minutes later a trio of EMTs, led to me by one of the taxi women, took my vitals while insisting without pause that I needed to go to the hospital for ‘post cardiac arrest care’. They claimed repeatedly that I needed further medical attention and pleaded with me to go with them; and I repeatedly informed them that, on top of feeling fine, I had unfinished business here and would not be departing, till they understood their pleas were falling on deaf ears. They did convince me to let the team comprehensively monitor my recovery with every instrument that they could pull out of their ambulance that produced readouts or emitted beeps or buzzes till they received a call to save someone whose life actually needed saving.
They made me wait for 10 whole minutes, during which the man who’d been prepared to send Tom packing had an animated discussion about I-don’t-know-what with the man who tried to kill me. Throughout those 10 minutes, the 3 EMTs continued taking vitals and monitoring my EKG and shining a flashlight in my eyes and asking me every minute on the minute for my name, birth date, and address. “Same as the last time you asked. If you ask again after I’ve received a big fat raise, though, the answer might be different.”
10 minutes turned into 11 and my patience had worn thinner than a moth’s wings, so I asked them to wrap things up. They continued badgering me to the bitter end to come with them, but I had a neck so stiff not even God could bend it. “Alright, Miss,” the one in charge said as they disconnected my EKG leads, “if you don’t want to come with us, consider having a friend transport you to the nearest emergency department when you get the chance.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“I hope you are. Cardiac arrest is not a temporary issue without long-term consequences. Please, see your physician as soon as you can.”
“I’ll schedule an appointment first thing in the morning,” I lied, signing the refusal of care against medical advice form, after which they finally stopped pestering me and went on their merry way.
The man who had helped me up and chastised me for what I’d claimed to be nothing more than a little bit of harmlessly risky kink chatted with the EMTs as they departed, then had the bouncers release Tom. Pink looked more troubled than relieved as the two of them returned to the table, while Tom was clearly perplexed— ((And… ashamed? Does he feel bad for hurting me? Oh, Tom… I’m alive, don’t worry about it. I’m alive, I’m fine, no harm, no foul. You can make it up to me by opening up about yourself and entrusting me with your darkest secrets.))
Approaching me with slow, timid steps, he said, “I’m sorry, Andrea. I lost my temper. And I just can’t figure out why…”
“Why what? What’s this mystery you’re investigating?” I asked him, sitting down and (in hindsight) scooting closer than might have been comfortable for him. “I love mysteries, and I would be delighted to help you solve one.”
“Why did you bail me out when I got angry—? —even though—well, I don’t ’member what went down, but—they accused me of—trying to—” His voice shrank. “(—to… kill… you.)”
I glanced at Pink, who looked like he had witnessed my actual death. Despite the liquor pickling my ischemic brain, I reckoned he might (out of jealousy or protectiveness or some other emotion) get in the way of my attempts to get to know his husband, so I had the sense to cut him out. “This is between you and me, Tommy.” I began to peel away my EKG patches and build a pile of them on the tabletop. “I’m not comfortable discussing this with somebody I only just met chiming in.”
Without protest or question Tom asked, “Nico, would you care to give us privacy?” ((Pink Nico, oh, my love, my dear… forgive me for sending you away, but your husband and I need to discuss this matter in private.))
Hesitating with a pleading and protective glance at me, my Pink replied, “Of course, my dear,” and wandered off.
“Let’s go find another booth, I don’t want the tuxedos coming back to bother us.”
“Okay…”
We found another booth and this time we pulled back the privacy curtains before taking our seats. “What’s bothering you, Tommy?”
“Where were you going with your questions before I… ‘lost it’?” Tom asked. “The last thing I remember was—you asked me if I’d— Did you really ask me if I’ve ever killed someone?”
“I just wanted to know what your career has been like, the ups and downs, the trials and tribulations. I’ve only ever known you as the Parking King, but I thought maybe you’d held other titles in other units before you transferred to SVPD. I figured you might’ve gone on grander adventures back in LA.”
His guilt solidified, but thankfully his anger was absent this time. ((But really, though, have you killed a man?))
“Blue is for life, Tommy, and after all the things we did in the time leading up to your pardonable mistake… I’m warming up to you. You can confide in me. The blue shield is inviolable.”
“‘In-vile-uh-bull’? What’s that?”
“It means it can’t be violated. If you did something that you wish you could share with somebody but are afraid of being judged, you can talk to me with confidence that I won’t tell another soul. Plus, we’re at Asmodeus. Whatever happens here, whatever you tell me here, is as secret as it gets.”
His chin trembled, his cheeks and brows pinched watering eyes.
I rested a comforting hand on his shoulder and asked him, “You doin’ okay, Tommy Boy?”
He broke down sobbing.
His pain spread to me and weighed on my chest like pneumonia; I felt compelled to comfort him. “We all do bad things, Tommy. The biggest advantage of being a LEO is you have the biggest, closest family in the world to share your feelings with.” I took one of his hands and squeezed it reassuringly. “But I can’t help you if you don’t share. You can tell me what’s bothering you.”
I let him sob it out; he regained his ability to speak after a minute or so. “I can’t… tell you.” A droplet of snot spattered on the table, and he sniffed wetly.
I wanted to help him—but I was also in detective mode, so I wanted just as much to know the reason behind his guilt. I poured him a tequila shot. “Here. Savor it. A little ETOH will make you feel better. Let it wash over your tongue and burn your cheeks.” He followed my advice then gingerly set down the glass. I poured him another, and I made him drink that, too. I waited till I figured he should be affected to continue, “Tell me what’s got you bothered, buddy.”
He shook his head again.
He wasn’t drunk enough, I thought, so I refilled his glass… “Drink.”
…and he obeyed.
“I gotta admit it was scary. Real scary. I thought I was as good as dead.”
He hiccupped and I smiled.
“My friends and lovers would have missed me very much.”
He whined.
“But it’s alright.” I rubbed gentle circles on his back. “I’m okay. You barely hurt me. I have no hard feelings, Tommy. I forgive you.”
His throat produced a quiet, agony-filled groan.
I continued to smile as I whispered loudly, “Whadaya wanna tell me, Tommy? Go on, I’m listening.”
He turned away from me. “I—can’t…”
“If I had died, you wouldn’a been able to confide in me. But I survived. You have an opportunity to talk with someone you’ve known for so long and now bonded with so closely, even in such a short time, an opportunity you nearly lost. You ought to take it before something else threatens my life.”
He whined and wringed his hands in his lap.
I poured him another, which he ignored. A hint of frustration escaped me in the form of a grunt, but for the most part I maintained my composure. “Tommy, loosen up. Just one more.”
He stared at his commingled hands, then in a soft tone he told me, “(I think I’ve had enough.)”
“I think you need another,” I said gently but firmly, nudging the glass towards him.
“No thanks.”
((Alright. Tequila isn’t working anymore. What other assets do I have? Hm. Assets… Assets. Ass. I have a sexy ass he likes to touch. He wants to fuck me bad.)) My curiosity was as disinhibiting as all the MDMA and alcohol pickling my brain. I placed a hand on his thigh… “You know… when you choked me…”
“I’m sorry…” mumbled Tommy, loathing himself into misery.
…and squeezed. “…it turned me on. A lot.”
That got his attention.
“I don’t like to let sexual tension go unresolved.” I crawled my fingers up his leg.
“Red, I’m kinda not—”
“If you’re feeling guilty, you can do me a favor… and unzip.”
“I don’t really…”
“Unless you want me to do it for you.” I gently squeezed his crotch.
He stopped and started several times as he unbuttoned and unzipped, but he danced to my tune. I pulled aside his underwear, found his flaccid penis, and rubbed it to encourage it to grow. He sighed.
“When did you last fantasize about me giving you a hand job?” I asked, a hint of smoke within my voice thanks to my bruised larynx.
“A couple of minutes ago… right before… I choked you.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Tommy. I enjoyed it,” I lied through a smile while stroking his penis, which to a massive size (at least nine inches) was (quickly, if reluctantly) growing.
“You… did?”
“Oh, it was so exciting and so pleasurable. I’d… consider asking for an encore, if not for the risk of getting booted from Asmodeus for being ‘risk aware’—whatever that means.”
“I’m not comfortable with doing it again.”
“Suit yourself, Tom.”
“I’m sorry, Red.”
“I’ll survive. How is my handiwork? I’m still very new to sex, so don’t expect to have your mind blown.”
“It’s… good,” he said while panting slowly, quietly.
“Is my hand making you feel better, yet?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Relaxed?”
Another nod.
“Keep relaxing, and your guilt and worries will all melt away.”
“Mm-hm.” He shut his eyes and leaned his head back.
“Would you like to chat while I work on this?”
“’Kay.”
“I’ve noticed you and Cupcake are really close.”
“We are.”
“Do you tell him all your deepest secrets?”
He hesitated. “Yes.”
“There’s not a single thing you keep from him?”
“N—no.” ((Liar.))
I massaged the head of his penis for a moment… “Your trust in him and his trust in you are admirable. I wish that… you and I had that kind of trust, Tommy. I want to get close to you. Let me know when you’re about to cum.” …then got back to stroking.
“Okay—(ah)—of—(mh)—course.”
((He sounds like he’s having much less fun than I’d like… so now it’s time to draw the big guns.)) Very cleverly (foolishly, in retrospect) I brought my head down to his crotch and planted my lips on his penis, took him into my throat, caught his scent—
Agave pays a surprise visit and
Cedar smoke tickles my nose.
Ethanol uplifts my mind as
His musk compels me to love him.
What are the chances I would meet
Two sexy men in one night?
More eagerly, more passionately, more zealously than I had at first intended, I worked to pleasure my workplace tormentor. My mouth sucked, his hips bucked—my tongue licked, his heart ticked—I stroked, he groaned, I choked, he moaned.
((Stop.))
I pleasured him with all my passion and I fantasized about so slowly sliding his cock into my cunt—
((Stop.))
In just a minute, Tommy’s breathing became rapid, deep. His end was coming—as was mine.
((Stop, NOW.))
As soon as he said, “I’m gonna—” I tore my mouth and hands from him before he could say the next word, before… before he could… waste his semen in my mouth. “—cum…?”
I was as surprised as he was as I stared into his rich cerulean eyes, as my chest heaved to catch my breath, as I tried to parse my feelings… (((Fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him—!))) …as straightforward as they were.
((What? Hell no!))
(((What am I accomplishing by delaying the inevitable?)))
((I’m avoiding fucking the guy I hate more than anyone else!))
“Red…?” I was with him, but I was elsewhere.
(((Do I really hate him?)))
((Of course I—!)) I took in his face—not a hurried, furtive glance at an individual feature here or there as in reunions past, but a good, long look to capture his entire face in my mind. He resembled a young Peter Falk, but with a few striking differences. His short blond hair should have clashed with his face, but… that soft yet masculine chin, that subtle, curving nose, those defined cheeks that framed his humble lips, those thick eyebrows that invited one’s eyes to his, that crepuscular crease in his right temple—the way his cheeks… and his forehead… and the corners of his eyes… (wrinkled…) when he smiled—had driven me mad ever since Captain Hobarth introduced him to the squad. My gaze locked onto his; the only thing missing was the glass eye, and I’d… once or twice I had… had imagined Tom with one. ((Well, he’s handsome and he cares about his husband and he knows how to make me laugh and spank me just right…))
(((Then put his cock inside my puss! Do it! Mate with him! I must have this man’s thick cum!)))
((If I do that, I’ll have his child!))
(((Do the sex! Become his mate!)))
((I don’t want to! I don’t like him!))
(((Liar! I must fuck him, be his wife!)))
I found myself on the verge of hyperventilating. ((I can’t!))
(((Mate! Mate! Mate! Mate! Mate! Mate! Mate!)))
((I will do no such thing!))
(((Fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him fuck him—)))
Trembling with every shred of my rapidly disintegrating volition, I told Tom, “The orgasm awaiting you is gonna feel a whole lot better with a crystal conscience, Tom. Fess up.”
He whined pathetically.
(((Fuck him, Andrea, stop fucking with him.)))
I scrambled to collect every crumbling fragment of self-control remaining within me. “Did you enjoy my mouth?” ((…stop thinking about his cock stop thinking about his cock stop thinking about his cock stop thinking about his cock stop thinking about his…)) I glanced down at it. ((…cock.)) I tried to avert my gaze. ((Cock.)) I was entranced. ((Cock.)) I turned my head away. ((Cock.)) I stared at it from the corners of my eyes. ((Cock.))
He begged for more with a meek nod.
(((Stop this nonsense, lift my ass to offer up my pussy for his pleasure.)))
I felt like my frontal lobe was being detached axon-by-axon from the rest of my brain. “(Then I… will…)” I forgot the English language.
(((It will feel like heroin.)))
My loins overflowed with longing. ((It will be the…))
(((…most amazing thing I’ve ever felt.)))
My pulse sped up. ((It would feel very good—no, it…))
(((…wouldn’t feel ‘very good’, it would feel the best.)))
((His giant cock…))
(((…thrusting and pumping and dumping his cum inside me!)))
((Only need to lift my dress…))
I grabbed my skirt hem.
((…hover over my man’s cock…))
I climbed on top of Tom. “Uh—Red?”
((…lower myself down and guide him in…))
I grasped him and adjusted his angle and lowered my hips and he entered me and I felt the rush and we moaned in unison and—
((…just… like… that…))
“Oh, Red!”
((…then go up… slowly…))
My body lifted itself up till he was at my entrance and—
(((Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes!)))
((No!)) I stopped.
(((Ah! Keep going! Make his cock explode inside of me!)))
((I will not have sex with this… creep!))
(((Fuck him! I must fuck this virile mate!)))
((No!))
(((Resisting this biological imperative is futile. Watch this.))) Defying my will, my body fell, engulfed him once again— (((Slowly…))) —then floated up— (((Inch-by-inch…))) —only to come back down— (((Drag it out…))) —and up— (((Rub it against my G-spot, Tommy…))) —and down— (((I’ll savor your girth…))) —and…
((Please, I don’t want this…))
(((Am I truly so naïve I would believe I have a choice right now? I’m such a silly girl! My lust cannot be stopped…)))
“Oh my God! You’re so beautiful, Red…”
((Hey! He said the safe word, which means I hafta stop!))
(((‘Safe word’? What’s a ‘safe word’?))) I continued humping him.
((A word you say when you want everyone to stop. So I should stop. Please.))
(((That’s such a dumb idea. Hump, hump, hump, hump!)))
So I continued riding up-and-down on the cock of the one man I hated more than any other, the man I had lusted after for as long as I had known him, the man I had pretended not to flirt with every time we were together, the man whose touch I had craved ever since he first accidentally brushed his hand against my ass, the man who brightened my darkest days whenever our paths crossed. I moaned, I gasped, I trembled. I slammed his cock into my cervix like a blacksmith’s hammer coming down on hot steel. ((I have no idea how close he is to cumming, but if I keep going he’s gonna blow. Welp… I might be able to retool this shitty situation into an advantage.)) “I… have a deal for you, my—(oh fuck)—Tommy: if you tell me—oh yes—what’s on your mind, I… won’t stop—(oh, God, I’m addicted to your cock)—if you—(ah)—if-you-tell-me-I-won’t-stop-humping-you.” ((Please, may I stop humping you?))
“I’m… gonna… cum…”
“Oh, please no, no-no-no…” Another shock and shudder of pleasure as I brought my cervix down on the head of his cock.
“If you keep riding me…”
I shivered in panic. “I can’t stop!”
“Oh, God, it feels so good…”
“God, it does, but—Tom, Tommy, please don’t cum—but I want your jizz so bad…”
“If you don’t get off me…”
“I can’t, I need someone to stop me but-God-I-need-your-cum—”
“I can feel it…”
“Please hold it in, I wanna fuck you a little longer before you shoot your load…”
“Ugh—I don’t know how much longer I can—”
“Hold it in and slap my ass, Peter!”
“Red, this is—(ah…)”
“Spank me!”
He slapped my ass and sent my horniness up into space and flung it towards Andromeda.
“Fuck!” I grabbed him by the head and he moaned and whimpered as I kissed every square inch of his face and neck and rode him with every drop of the passion bursting from my love-slick loins like a thousand-year flood smashing through an abandoned beaver dam. I fucking—“yes, yes!—love your cock, Peter! Ah! I’m gonna fuck it till it blows!”
“(Ah! Ah!) I’m cum—”
“Cum inside me, Peter!” I screamed, throwing my arms around his neck and planting my lips on his as my lust struck the killing blow in its usurpation of my will.
“(—mhng!)” And he grabbed my waist and slammed me down on his cock and twitched inside me and began to—