659 lines
39 KiB
Plaintext
659 lines
39 KiB
Plaintext
"Lydia"
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Copyright 1989 by Peter N. Glaskowsky
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9021 S. Normandale, #1144
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Ft. Worth, Texas 76116
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All rights reserved.
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The first time I saw her, I have to admit I wasn't thinking
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about who she was. I was just admiring her curves. She was wearing
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jogging shorts and a tight T-shirt, and she really filled them
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out. Her fur was smooth and glossy, and seemed to glow in the
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bright afternoon sun. She looked strong. I like strong women.
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Then I noticed what she was doing. Anyone else, looking at
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her, would have thought she was just giving directions to an
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elderly Dalmation couple. They were holding up a map of the
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amusement park between them, and she was leaning over the map,
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giving the old guy a good view of her breasts, while she pointed
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at the map with one hand.
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From where I was standing, however, I could see between her
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and the guy's wife. I watched while she lifted the flap on the
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lady's purse and reached inside.
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I walked over quickly, grabbing her right shoulder with my
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left hand, and spun her around.
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"Lydia," I cried. "How great to see you again!"
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Her eyes lit up, and her muzzle opened in an enormous smile.
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"Jonathan! Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven't heard
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from you in months!"
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I turned to the oldsters. "Pardon me, we're old friends, I
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didn't mean to interrupt."
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They smiled, and made polite sounds, thanking Lydia for her
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help, and then walked off. I turned back to Lydia and gave her a
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big hug, talking quietly into her ear.
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"Don't look now, but there's a cop watching you. Keep
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smiling, maybe he'll go away."
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I could hear her smiling as she responded. "Where's the cop?"
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I spun her around. "See the Alsatian in the guayabera shirt
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and blue slacks?" She nodded. "He's been watching you for ten or
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fifteen minutes."
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"Thanks," she said. "Let's go." She grabbed my arm and we
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walked quickly away. She pulled me into an unused doorway, wrapped
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her arms around my lower back, and kissed me.
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"What was that for?" I asked. "Not that I mind," I added,
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grinning.
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"I just wanted to say 'thanks' again."
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"Well, you're welcome! But I can think of a better way to do
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it."
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She stood back and looked annoyed. "Listen, buster, just
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because you did me a favor doesn't mean I'm ready to go to bed
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with you."
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I laughed. "No, no, I was just going to suggest that you have
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lunch with me." She looked skeptical, so I put on my best innocent
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look, and said, "I'm hungry, okay?"
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She smiled, and relaxed. "Okay. Fair enough. Where?"
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"How about the Hyatt? There's a nice restaurant there with
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private booths."
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"I can't afford the Hyatt!"
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"That's okay. I'm buying," I said. "If, that is, you'll give
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me my wallet back."
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She looked sheepish, which is a silly way for a beautiful
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wolf lady to look. "I was just going to see who you were." Now it
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was my turn to look skeptical. "I was going to put it back.
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Honestly!"
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"Go ahead and look," I said, laughing again.
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She shrugged, and pulled my wallet back out of her purse,
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where she had stashed it while kissing me. She looked through it
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quickly, then handed it back. Nothing in there to see, really,
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just a driver's license, a few credit cards, and some cash. "Well,
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Mister Douglas Nichols, let's go have lunch."
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I held out my arm, and she took it, and we walked off. "Call
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me Doug. You have the advantage of me, by the way," I said.
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"What's your name?"
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"Call me Lydia," she said.
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"Oh, come on, do you want me to take your purse and find out
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for myself?"
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She looked over at me, and pinched my biceps. "You're big,
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but you're not big enough to do that."
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I reached into my left front pocket, and removed a thin
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billfold. I started thumbing through it. She looked down, and
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stopped suddenly, turning me around. "Give that back," she yelled,
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snatching at it.
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"Not 'til I find out your name," I said, holding it out of
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her reach. I continued flipping through the billfold, but there
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was no ID of any kind. Just pictures, a business card from a well-
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known lawyer, and a little cash.
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"Well, you won't find out from that," she said, obviously
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pleased with herself. Defeated, I handed it back. She put it away,
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looking at me speculatively. "Well, at least I know what you do
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for a living. When did you take it, anyway? I didn't notice a
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thing. You're pretty good."
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"Thanks. Same time you took mine. I knew you were
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distracted."
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"Hmm." She took my arm again, and we resumed walking.
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Lunch was uneventful. Conversation was light-- the weather,
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the rides in the park, things like that. A few times, to emphasize
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a point, she reached across the table to touch my hand. She was
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cheerful and charming, and after I paid the check, she fell silent
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for a moment, and then looked into my eyes, and asked, "Would you
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like to go to bed with me?"
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It seemed like such a natural question. I honestly hadn't
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thought about it more than fifty or sixty times, but I said "yes"
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without even hesitating.
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"Should we get a room?" she asked. "I don't have a place in
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town."
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"I'm staying here in the hotel."
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"Okay," she said, almost shyly. We got up and left the
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restaurant.
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I opened the door to my room, and held it open so she could
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enter first. As the door closed behind me, she turned, and put a
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hand alongside my jaw, and kissed me. "This isn't just a thank-
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you. I think you're nice."
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I put my hands on her hips, and began stroking her fur
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through her shorts. "I like you, too."
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She took a deep breath, then reached up, and pulled her T-
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shirt off. Her breasts were round and firm, nipples standing up in
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the bare pink patches of her aureola. I slid my hands up, rubbing
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first one pair, then the other. She gasped, and leaned forward
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against me, and began to unbutton my shirt. Reaching inside, she
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ran her hands through my chest fur, scratching lightly.
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It felt good, and I returned the favor, gently tracing lines
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down her back, feeling her arch in response. I nuzzled the side of
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her throat, licking the fur there.
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I put an arm across her shoulders, and turned her, leading
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her into the room to where I could see her better in the light
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filtering in through the drapes. I could feel her breathing
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quicken when she saw the bed, and she looked at me, and said,
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"Make love to me, now."
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She dropped a hand to my groin, squeezing my sheath between
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thumb and fingers, through the fabric. I felt myself responding,
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and I reached down to open my pants. As I kicked my shoes off and
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stepped out of my pants, she knelt before me, and started to lick
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my penis as it extended from its sheath. As it became fully erect,
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she stood again, sliding down her shorts, removing them along with
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her shoes. I slipped my shirt off my arms, and embraced her,
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pressing my hips against hers, rubbing my penis through the soft
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fur on her belly.
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We walked together to the bed. I eased her down onto it, and
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she turned, and reclined, pulling me down on top of her. I entered
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her at once. My penis began to swell, and I thrust firmly, locking
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myself deeply within her vagina.
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She cried out, and wrapped her legs around the small of my
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back, pulling me in. I felt her tail lashing back and forth
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between my legs, and I pushed mine down to meet it. She began
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moaning, squeezing my cock. I don't know what she did, but it felt
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absolutely incredible. I couldn't hold back. After only a few deep
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thrusts, I howled as we came together.
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Our climax seemed to last for hours, although it couldn't
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have been more than a minute or two. We continued to move against
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each other slowly until my erection subsided enough for me to
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withdraw. I rolled off her, and we lay side by side, looking at
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each other, panting heavily.
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Eventually I got up the strength to move again. I reached
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over and began to stroke her belly fur, hot and damp from our
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exertions. "Wow!" I said, smiling.
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She smiled back. "Thank you."
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We stayed like that for a while. She was looking at me
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closely, seemingly searching my face for something. "What is it?"
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I asked.
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"I was just wondering why you really helped me."
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"I couldn't just let that cop get you," I said.
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"That wasn't a cop," she replied. "That was Virgil Gibbs of
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Montgomery, Alabama. I lifted his wallet about ten minutes before
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you showed up."
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"Urrr..." I couldn't think of much to say. Bad luck.
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"So how about it?"
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"Uh, well, actually..."
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"Go on, spit it out."
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"Okay. I wanted to offer you a job."
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She stared at me for a moment, and then started laughing.
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"What's so funny?"
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"I... I..." She was having a hard time talking.
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"Go on, spit it out," I said, grinning.
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"I thought you were a cop!"
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Suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. "Huh? But why'd you..."
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She patted my chest. "Oh, I think you're nice. But you
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couldn't very well arrest me after this, could you?"
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I fell back on the bed and sighed heavily. "Oh, hell. And I
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was worried that you might not take the job because I'd slept with
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you."
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I thought about it for a moment, and then the whole thing
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struck me as funny, and I started to laugh. Pretty soon we were
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both rolling around on the bed, tears staining the fur on our
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cheeks. When she came within reach, I grabbed her, and pulled her
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against me. We held each other, still laughing, until the laughter
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faded. She stiffened, and I realized I was hard again.
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I looked into her eyes, only a few inches away, and asked the
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question without speaking. Without speaking, she agreed. I hugged
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her tightly, and then she rolled me on top of me, and wiggled, and
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I felt myself reentering her.
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As good as it had been the first time, it was better the
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second time around. We were both more aware of the act, thinking
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more about each other. It lasted a long, long time. She brought me
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close to the edge over and over, and I'm sure she came several
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times before our final climax. She fell asleep on my chest with my
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penis still firm inside her, and I followed her into sleep a few
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moments later.
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When I awoke, she wasn't in the bed anymore. I went from a
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crushing sense of loss to an almost unbearable feeling of joy when
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I heard that most mundane of sounds, the flushing of the toilet in
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the bathroom.
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She looked at me when she came out. "What's that silly grin
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for?"
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"Oh, nothing."
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"Well, get up, I'm hungry."
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I thought about it for a moment, and decided I was, too. I
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rolled out of bed, feeling my strength slowly returning as the
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motion restored my circulation.
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I noticed my belly fur was quite sticky, and grimaced. "I
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think I need a shower."
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"So do I," she said.
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So we took a shower, and in the course of things we found
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ourselves back on the bed, and it was over an hour before we
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finally made it to the hotel restaurant.
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"So what's this job?" she asked, while we waited for the
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waitress to come over.
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I looked one way, then the other, making a big deal out of
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it. "I think it's safe to talk here," I said, grinning. Then I got
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serious. "Would it bother you if I was a cop?"
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"But you said you weren't!"
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"No, I didn't."
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"Well, are you?" she said, impatiently.
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"Sort of. I work for the FBI, but I'm not really in law
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enforcement. And I was a pickpocket myself a long time ago."
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"What do you do, then?"
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"I'm in a special operations unit. I guess you'd say we're a
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sort of dirty-tricks squad."
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"Oh, like 'Mission: Impossible'," she deadpanned.
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"Well, it is, actually. What can I say? Sometimes that sort
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of thing is necessary."
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She paused, looking thoughtfully at me. "So why are you
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dragging me into this? Aren't you violating security?"
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"Lydia, you've already been checked out. Thoroughly."
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Again, a pause. "Lydia isn't my real name, you know." It was
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a statement, not a question.
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"I know."
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"You can call me Rosa."
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"Thanks," I said, smiling warmly. "But 'Lydia' will be
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better, I think. My name is really Ted, but please do call me
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'Doug'. I do think about security."
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"Okay."
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The waitress finally showed up and took our orders.
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"So, why me?" she asked.
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"Well... this gets a little complex, so bear with me. Do you
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remember about a month ago, when you were in Washington? You
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boosted a thick billfold from an elderly leopard? There was a
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diplomatic passport in there, right?"
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"Yes, I remember that!" she said. "I was a little scared
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because I don't normally mess with diplomats. Too much heat. But
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he wasn't dressed very well, some kind of overcoat, and I didn't
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know he was anyone until afterwards. And he had a lot of money,
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too, over five thousand bucks. That was when I decided to visit
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Florida. His name was Darra Mabra, wasn't it?"
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"Right. He grew up in this country, and he's ambitious. He
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was about to make a connection with one of his agents."
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"Espionage?"
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"No. Drugs. And strictly independent. He's trying to build a
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distribution network for some stuff he gets from back home. His
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government doesn't approve, but they don't want to call him back,
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and they can't let us move on him officially. So they've
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sanctioned some covert action. We can take him down as long as it
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looks like the regular cops just stumble on his operation."
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"So where do I come in?"
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"He remembers you. He was asking around. He thinks you work
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for the Families. He wants to see you again. And not for small
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talk, either."
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"Ugh. I can imagine. Well, you don't want to just give me to
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him, do you?"
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"No, not at all. Here's the deal..."
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...
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Washington in the summer is absolutely intolerable. I
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wouldn't stay there myself, except that the Bureau had a certain
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hold on my talents for another couple of years-- part of the the
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deal which got me out of jail three years before.
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I got Lydia set up in an expensive cheap apartment in Vienna,
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Virginia. It seems like we have all our safe houses in Vienna. One
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of these days, someone's going to notice.
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We'd been keeping an eye on Mabra, of course. When he snuck
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out the back of his embassy, wearing that conspicuous black
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leather overcoat, we were ready. He headed for one of the shopping
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malls which surround the District, and we followed him cautiously,
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Lydia and I in one car and three more agents in another.
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We stayed well back, and he found a parking space a few
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minutes before we did. We filtered in through different entrances,
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and found him soon enough. He was sitting, waiting for someone.
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I spoke softly, testing our comm links. These were the latest
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in high tech, and they worked great. The electronics were
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completely contained within soft, thin packs about half the size
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of a slice of cheese, which we wore stuck to the inside of our
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thighs. The earphones were less than 2 millimeters in diameter by
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5 long, and fit completely within the ear canal. The microphones
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were the same size, nestling into the fur under the chin. These
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were connected to the electronics by hair-thin optical fibers--
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totally invisible, completely flexible, almost unbreakable.
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Without a strip search, there was no way to detect the units.
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"Lydia, Mabra is outside the Sears."
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"Okay," came the answer, whispered in my ear.
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"Show time, folks."
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I walked casually into the Sears, stopping at the jewelry
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counter where I had a good view of the mall. I told the clerk I
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was just browsing, and she left me alone.
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Outside, I saw Lydia walking back and forth nervously,
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looking at the passers-by. She seemed to be distracted. A pudgy
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beagle walked out of the Orange Julius across the way, carrying a
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drink, his wallet hanging half out of his back pocket.
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She got suddenly very casual, and headed after him. She
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passed him, then stopped and turned around quickly, as if she had
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forgotten something... and crashed into him. His drink splashed
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all over both of them, and she made a big production out of trying
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to wipe it off his clothes. In the process she lifted his wallet.
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It was a pretty clumsy job, which was perfect. He saw his
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wallet disappearing into her purse, and screamed bloody murder. In
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due course, a mall security guard came running up, demanding an
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explanation.
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Mabra had been startled by the initial outburst, but he was
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too cool to just run off. A few moments later he recognized Lydia,
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and then you couldn't have dragged him away. When the security
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guard showed up, he moved over quickly. I could hear him through
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Lydia's microphone.
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"Pardon me," he said, in deep cultured tones. "What seems to
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be the trouble?"
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"Move along, Mac," the guard said. "Show's over."
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"I beg your pardon, young man, this young lady works for me."
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He looked from the old cat to the young wolf, obviously
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skeptical. "Yeah? Well, she's got some explaining to do."
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Mabra put his arm around the Doberman's shoulders, turning
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him away. He spoke quietly, but I could still hear him... the
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guard was one of our people, of course.
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"I'm very sorry. She has a problem..."
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"You're damn right, she does," the guard exclaimed.
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"I want to handle this myself, if I could," Mabra said
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smoothly. He reached into his coat pocket, bringing out another
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wallet, this one also bulging with cash. He deftly extracted a
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few hundred dollar bills, and handed them to the Dobe' where the
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beagle couldn't see. "Perhaps you could use these to fix things
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with the gentleman?"
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The guard licked his chops, and said quickly, "Okay. But
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don't bring her back here again."
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"Done," said Mabra.
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They turned back to Lydia and the beagle.
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"Give him back his wallet, bitch," said the guard. She
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complied, meekly. He took the beagle aside and they talked for a
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moment, the Doberman handing over one of Mabra's bills, which
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seemed to mollify the offended victim. The guard reached behind
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him and waved at Mabra, who promptly took Lydia by the arm-- very
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firmly, judging by the little gasp of pain I heard from her-- and
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walked her out the nearest door.
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I left the Sears, giving a thumbs-up to the two agents
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outside, picking up the third who had been waiting in a clothing
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store just adjacent to the scene of the confrontation. We hurried
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out into the parking lot.
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Mabra had taken her purse from her, and was pawing through
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it. He was casually discarding a variety of men's and women's
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wallets after checking the ID in each. Then he came across a thin
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grey folder-- and threw her whole purse down between two cars as
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they continued to walk. She tried to run back after it, but he
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grabbed her arm again, and pulled her along.
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"Where'd you get this, bitch?" he asked, consciously
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repeating the term the guard had used, putting her in her place.
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"I... I don't remember..." she stuttered.
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"Sure you do, bitch. You stole it from me!" His voice was
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trembling with rage, and he just got angrier as he flipped through
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the pages of the passport. "What the fuck did you do? What the
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fuck is this?" he demanded, waving the picture page in front of
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her face. The altered document had her picture on it now, showing
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her name as "Terry Mabra"-- a poorly-done modification, done by
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one of the most skillful artists in the CIA.
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"I... that is..."
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He slapped her hard, and I winced at the sound. "Tell me!"
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"I thought I could use it to get out of trouble sometime."
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"Well, it just got you into a world of hurt, bitch."
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"What are you going to do with me?"
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"I don't know," he muttered. They continued to walk for a few
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more paces, then he stopped suddenly, yanking her around. "Damn
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you, bitch, you made me forget about my appointment!" He turned
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and started walking back to the mall. I could see the tip of his
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tail twitching quickly back and forth just below his overcoat.
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"I can't go back in there!" she cried.
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He stopped again, clearly frustrated. "Shit! Shit!" After a
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moment, he turned back, and they resumed walking towards his car.
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"What am I going to do with you?" he asked himself, cooling
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off. "If you'd been working for someone, I could have used you,
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but you're just a petty thief. Maybe I'll just kill you," he
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mused.
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"No! Oh, please, no! I can..." She broke off.
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"What, bitch?" he asked, his chain of thought broken.
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"I can work for you... or whatever you want," she said,
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licking her lips, reaching timidly over to stroke his chest.
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"Fuck a dog? Not a chance, bitch. Try again," he laughed,
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cruelly.
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"My family will pay you to let me go," she offered.
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"Don't make me laugh."
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"No, really," she insisted. "My real name is DiTomazzio, my
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family... has connections, you know?"
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He looked at her sharply. "You putting me on, bitch? You mean
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your family is Mafia?"
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"Yes... I'm sure they'll make it up to you."
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He thought for a minute, then smiled suddenly, a very phony
|
||
smile. "Ah, screw it, I got a better idea. You need a job, don't
|
||
you? You're no fucking good at this pickpocket shit."
|
||
She said nothing, but nodded.
|
||
"Okay, so you work for me now."
|
||
"You mean it?" she asked, hopefully.
|
||
"Sure. I need someone with connections."
|
||
This change of heart was so transparently phony, I wasn't
|
||
sure if she could even pretend to believe it-- but evidently she
|
||
convinced him that she did. He even let her go get her purse back,
|
||
watching carefully to make sure she didn't run away, and was
|
||
clearly pleased when she came back to him.
|
||
They finally reached his car, and Robbins and I hurried to
|
||
ours. We had to stay within about a half mile to pick up the
|
||
signal from Lydia's body mike, even with the more sensitive
|
||
antenna on the car.
|
||
We had a Doppler direction finder to follow Mabra's car,
|
||
although he just got her address from her, and took her back to
|
||
her place. He didn't seem to have a whole lot of time, so he
|
||
talked quickly, trying to persuade Lydia that he could make her
|
||
rich, protect her, and so forth-- I was thinking he missed his
|
||
calling. He should have been a pimp.
|
||
He didn't stay long, just made a quick phone call, and gave
|
||
Lydia a thousand dollars so she could buy herself some better
|
||
clothes.
|
||
|
||
Later, after Mabra left, I went inside. Lydia fairly lept
|
||
into my arms, trying hard not to cry. I hugged her close, then
|
||
held her out at arms' length, smiling for her. "You did great,
|
||
darling."
|
||
"Thanks," she said, smiling back a little uncertainly.
|
||
I stroked her cheek, barely touching the fur. "I'm sorry he
|
||
hit you."
|
||
"It's okay. I've taken worse. Besides, you're paying me
|
||
enough," she grinned.
|
||
She'd been very businesslike when it came to discussing
|
||
terms. We couldn't really force her to help-- we didn't have any
|
||
serious criminal charges to press, and we needed her voluntary
|
||
cooperation. And besides, I was beginning to like her a lot, and I
|
||
wouldn't have gone along with an attempt to coerce her the way I'd
|
||
been coerced.
|
||
Eventually we settled on a pretty high price-- she knew we
|
||
needed her, and once I let her know how much the Bureau would pay,
|
||
she was able to negotiate pretty effectively.
|
||
"Well, I don't think it'll happen again. He thinks you're
|
||
going to help him."
|
||
"Oh, I am. I'm going to help him right out of the country."
|
||
She grinned wider, showing teeth.
|
||
I moved my hands to her sides, squeezing gently. "And now, I
|
||
think I'm going to help you out of these clothes."
|
||
"That's exactly what I was going to suggest."
|
||
Just then, I heard another voice. "Might I suggest that you
|
||
two turn off those microphones?"
|
||
I spun around, then realized it was Robbins, who'd been
|
||
listening in from the car outside. "Okay, wise guy, go home."
|
||
We laughed, and undressed each other, turning off the mikes
|
||
and carefully removing the hardware, using rubbing alcohol to
|
||
dissolve the adhesive.
|
||
We spent the rest of the afternoon making love. Eventually we
|
||
got hungry, and after a quick shower I went out to get us
|
||
something to eat.
|
||
When I got back, the door I'd left locked was unlocked. I set
|
||
the bag of Chinese food down beside the door, drew my weapon, and
|
||
slipped inside quietly. No good.
|
||
"Drop the piece, fool," said Mabra. I couldn't see him. The
|
||
drapes were drawn, and the room was dark. I set the weapon down on
|
||
the floor, and raised my hands.
|
||
"Smart move," he said. "Go on," he added, and I didn't know
|
||
what he was talking about until Lydia came running towards me out
|
||
of the kitchen. I grabbed her, holding her behind me.
|
||
"What's going on?"
|
||
"Tell him, girl."
|
||
Lydia looked very nervous, but not particularly afraid.
|
||
"Doug, honey, this is Darra Mabra, you remember."
|
||
"Hey, isn't he the one you..."
|
||
"Yes, that was his passport you fixed for me."
|
||
"How did he..."
|
||
"I ran into him at the mall this morning. I didn't want to
|
||
tell you."
|
||
"What does he want?"
|
||
"He just wants me to give him advice, you know? About my
|
||
family? He gave me a thousand bucks, honey!"
|
||
"No shit?" I looked over at Mabra, as he stepped out of the
|
||
kitchen, hands empty. "Well, hey, sorry about the gun, man can't
|
||
be too careful around here."
|
||
Again the phony smile. "No problem, Doug." He walked up to
|
||
me, and stuck a hand out. "No hard feelings."
|
||
I put on a phony smile of my own. I'm sure he wasn't fooled,
|
||
but as long as he thought I was just greedy I knew he wouldn't
|
||
care. "That thousand is just a down payment, right?"
|
||
"Oh, of course," he replied, casually.
|
||
"Cool."
|
||
Lydia looked back and forth between us, then said, "Doug,
|
||
honey, would you mind leaving us alone for a while? So we can
|
||
talk?"
|
||
I didn't have to fake my suspicion. "Just talk?"
|
||
"Shit, Doug, I don't want to mess with her," Mabra said.
|
||
"Doug, did you bring back some food or something?"
|
||
"Yeah, it's outside," I said. "I spent fifteen bucks on it,
|
||
you want me to just leave it with you two?"
|
||
Mabra laughed, and pulled a couple bills from his pocket.
|
||
"Go buy yourself whatever you want."
|
||
I looked. They were hundreds. I made myself look happy. "Hey,
|
||
thanks, that's real straight!" I picked up my gun, dismissing them
|
||
both and heading out the door. It looked like I cared more about
|
||
the two hundred bucks than whatever he wanted to do with my lady.
|
||
I really wanted to blow him away, but that wasn't in the plan.
|
||
I headed over to another safe house about a block away, and
|
||
made sure the room mikes in Lydia's apartment were working. Mabra
|
||
was pumping her for information, trying to learn everything she
|
||
knew about her family's drug trade. She'd studied the information
|
||
we gave her thoroughly, and the answers came easily.
|
||
I decided he really didn't like dogs, because he didn't try
|
||
to put a move on her. He left after about an hour, making her
|
||
promise to call her brother the next day, to find out when the
|
||
next shipment was due.
|
||
I waited until we were sure he'd left the area, then went
|
||
back. She was apologetic. "Sorry, Doug, he wouldn't let me turn on
|
||
the porch light like we'd planned."
|
||
"I was really worried for a moment there, but it was okay."
|
||
"But he could have killed you!"
|
||
"Nah," I said, trying to sound much more confident than I
|
||
felt. "You told him I was coming back, right? It's always surprise
|
||
which makes these people do the wrong thing."
|
||
"Well..." she looked doubtful. "Did you get something to
|
||
eat?"
|
||
I leered back at her. "Not what I wanted."
|
||
"You letch," she grinned, as I led her back into the bedroom.
|
||
|
||
He got back in touch with her the next night. He wasn't
|
||
surprised to learn that Tony the Dee, Lydia's supposed brother,
|
||
was expecting another drug shipment from Miami in two days. They
|
||
brought in drugs once, sometimes twice a week, so there was never
|
||
long to wait.
|
||
She tried to ask him what he planned to do, but he got surly,
|
||
telling her to mind her own business. It didn't really matter. All
|
||
she told him was that the drugs were arriving in a late-model
|
||
white Lincoln Town Car, which should pull into the parking lot of
|
||
the "La Roma" restaurant at noon. Whatever he was going to do,
|
||
he'd have to do it then, and we'd make sure that the event was
|
||
attended by a large contingent of District cops.
|
||
There wasn't much to do except wait. He called a couple more
|
||
times, making sure there were no changes in the schedule, but
|
||
apart from that Lydia and I had a lot of free time. Naturally, we
|
||
were very busy. I found myself responding to her as I hadn't
|
||
responded to any woman in years. She had some kind of trick which
|
||
nearly made me pass out several times. Eventually I asked her what
|
||
the secret was.
|
||
"Promise you won't be mad at me?"
|
||
"Huh? Of course not."
|
||
"I used to be a prostitute."
|
||
I paused for a moment. "Yes, I knew that. I saw your folder,
|
||
remember? I was just wondering what you were doing, 'cause it
|
||
really feels great."
|
||
"You knew? You didn't care?"
|
||
"Of course not, love. Why should I?"
|
||
"I... I don't know." She hugged me suddenly, tightly,
|
||
obviously happy. "A girl could really get used to a guy like you."
|
||
"I'll never get used to you, Lydia."
|
||
"You goof," she exclaimed, punching me lightly. "Can't you
|
||
call me Rosa in bed, at least?"
|
||
"Sorry," I said, laughing. "Force of habit." Suddenly it
|
||
didn't seem funny anymore. "I love you, Rosa Marie Serrentino."
|
||
We looked deep into each others' eyes. "I love you, Theodore
|
||
Charles Dafoe."
|
||
We kissed, and she took me into her again, and as we made
|
||
love, I thought of a question I had to ask her, soon.
|
||
|
||
...
|
||
|
||
We expected him to call her again on the morning of the
|
||
delivery. We didn't expect him to show up at her apartment. The
|
||
doorbell rang at about 10am, as we were finishing up breakfast.
|
||
We'd already tipped off the District police, and we were just
|
||
waiting around. I hadn't intended for either one of us to be
|
||
anywhere near the restaurant, but Mabra obviously had other ideas.
|
||
I opened the door and got a .357 pressed up under my chin.
|
||
"The bitch is coming with me."
|
||
I held my hands up. "Okay, sure, no problem." Why didn't the
|
||
surveillance team see him leave? They would have called.
|
||
Lydia looked really terrified, and rushed to comply. "Don't
|
||
hurt him, Darra, I'll go."
|
||
"Damn right you will."
|
||
He stuck the revolver into a coat pocket and followed her out
|
||
the door. I hit a concealed panic button, turning on the room bug,
|
||
and shouted. "He's got Lydia. I don't know where he's taking her.
|
||
Follow him!"
|
||
A couple of our agents did manage to get on his tail before
|
||
he left the area, and I followed as quickly as I could. He took
|
||
her to a motel next door to the restaurant, and that was the last
|
||
we saw of them until just before noon.
|
||
We had a number of hiding places prepared nearby, and we
|
||
waited nervously. I remember my watch seemed to be counting the
|
||
minutes much more slowly than normal. Eventually a lookout up the
|
||
street got on the radio.
|
||
"White Lincoln, coming in."
|
||
As it pulled into the parking lot, Mabra and four tough-
|
||
looking young men, apparently countrymen of his, emerged from the
|
||
motel, along with Lydia. At the same time, I recognized Tony
|
||
DiTomazzio and one of his men walking casually out of the
|
||
restaurant.
|
||
Mabra pushed Lydia forward roughly, and she ran towards
|
||
DiTomazzio, waving. "Hi, Tony! I thought I'd come down and see
|
||
you!"
|
||
Tony, of course, had never seen Lydia before in his life, and
|
||
was only momentarily distracted. It was enough. Mabra's men pulled
|
||
sawed-off shotguns just as the driver got out of the Lincoln, and
|
||
quickly took control of the situation.
|
||
Lydia started edging away. Mabra looked at her, and shouted
|
||
"Hold it, bitch." She dove behind a parked car just as I hit the
|
||
"go" button on my radio, and leapt from the van I was sitting in.
|
||
At that moment, in response to the signal, 24 of the capital's
|
||
finest stepped out of concealment all around the parking lot. The
|
||
combined sound of rounds being chambered and safeties being
|
||
clicked off was enough.
|
||
Mabra knew he had diplomatic immunity. He didn't want a
|
||
shootout. His men wouldn't act without orders, and of course Tony
|
||
and his men were used to being busted. Consequently, everything
|
||
went very smoothly from there.
|
||
|
||
There were still a couple surprises left, but they didn't
|
||
show up until the arraignment the next day. The driver of the
|
||
Lincoln was one of our men, and he testified that he'd been
|
||
planning to deliver the drugs to Mabra, surprise! Tony was only
|
||
too happy to tell the judge that he didn't know nuthin' about no
|
||
drugs, despite the District police who testified that they'd been
|
||
planning to bust him, not Mabra.
|
||
The State Department sent a representative, and they PNG'd
|
||
Mabra and his men then and there, proclaiming them Persona Non
|
||
Grata within the United States. With Mabra on his way back to his
|
||
embassy, shortly to be escorted to the airport, the case against
|
||
the driver and Tony was dropped.
|
||
Lydia didn't appear at the hearing, but we were both in the
|
||
building, watching on the closed-circuit TV system. I saw Tony
|
||
walk out, his arm around the driver, praising him extravagently
|
||
for his quick thinking, and I knew that Tony the Dee's turn was
|
||
coming soon.
|
||
I led Lydia out into the bright morning sunshine, reminding
|
||
me of the day we met, and reminding me of that question. I
|
||
motioned to her to sit on one of the concrete benches outside the
|
||
courthouse, and knelt before her.
|
||
"Rosa Marie Serrentino, will you marry me?"
|
||
Her eyes sparkled... tears? "Yes, Theodore. Oh, yes!"
|
||
She pulled me up, standing herself, and we kissed.
|
||
I felt a feather-light touch at my hip, and as I pulled back,
|
||
she started riffling through my wallet.
|
||
"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked, laughing.
|
||
"Just making sure you have enough money for the license.
|
||
We're already at the courthouse. Why wait?"
|
||
Smiling, I let her drag me back inside. I just _love_ strong
|
||
women.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
Captured From:
|
||
WONDER WORLD BBS (513)-787-3777
|
||
24 Hours - 7 Days
|
||
|
||
|