ANGELS AND GHOSTS
CHAPTER TEN

The Assassin and The Cop

Rachael showered then dressed, dressing pretty; putting on her body-hugging above-knee paisley dress, a bra required due to the plunging neck-line, although bra ignored. On this cool winter morning, her nipples would be encouraged to display themselves, and that was the intention of this exercise. Applying make-up had never been a part of her daily routine, although for this exercise, mascara and lip-stick were applied. For Rachael, sex and drugs could cure all ills; sex and drugs were positive distractions that led you to happy places, and drugs she had, so maybe it was sex that she needed.

In thirty minutes she was there, and she drew in a breath then gazed at her nipples. “Good girls.” she whispered, then walked into the station.

“Hello, can I speak to Officer Jamieson please?”

“What is your name?”

“Rachael, Rachael Terina.”

Five minutes later, Officer Jamieson strolled out, 6’2” and built, his hair jelled and the dark blue uniform making him look dashing. “Yes, can I help you?”

Rachael smiled as she watched his gaze gravitate to her chest, then she said brightly, “My name is Rachael, I don’t know whether you remember me, I met you about six months ago when you took a statement from me about a hit and run accident.”

“Yes I do remember you,” he began, “Funny about that, because I went and saw the lady recently because she wanted your contact details.”

“Yes, she did contact me, and I was just wondering how the investigation is going.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t release details of police matters.”

“So you haven’t caught the person responsible?”

“I’m sorry, that information is confidential.” he replied, his gaze lowering again.

Three minutes of conversation, and for two of those minutes his gaze had been where she wanted it to be. Yours for the taking, was the thought that popped into her mind, then she said, “They’re real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My breasts, they aren’t big, but they’re real.”

Officer Jamieson blushed.

“You’re not married?” Rachael asked.

“Me, no.”

“Are you hooked up with anybody?”

A pause, the pause relaying the answer, so she asked, “How long you been hooked up?”

Officer Jamieson obviously thinking, plotting, and Rachael was pretty sure of the route his mind would be travelling.

He dropped his gaze to the desk and mumbled, “I’m kinda like engaged.”

Rachael now thinking, plotting; Hmmm, kinda like engaged? … I dunno, you want to get together and kinda-like-fuck? He was a young virile male, and she knew that she had all the attributes that young virile males like to gaze at, so she said quietly, “Well I better get going.”

That snapped his gaze back up, and Rachael was pleased. She understood body language, and she knew that his expression of alarm meant that he was thinking, No, stay for a bit longer, and you know, keep talking … She was a seductress, a temptress, and when she tempted virile young males, they usually fell. Producing a demure smile, Rachael said, “I’ll leave my number with you.”

His gaze dropped to her chest, then after correcting his gaze and looking into her eyes, he asked uncertainly, “Your number?”

“Just in case you want to catch up and …”

Officer Jamieson was staring at her, and Rachael experienced a moment of indecision. She liked the old vaudeville star’s adage of, Always keep them wanting more … although she also liked to know where she stood. All the body language and eye-gazing signs were positive, although sometimes you had to lay a card on the table, not an Ace, maybe an Eight or a Nine, forcing the other player to consider whether they wanted to play or not. “I think you’re very handsome, and I’d like to kiss you.” she cooed, purposely fluttering her eyelashes.

Officer Jamieson clearly missed the eye-lash fluttering display, for his focus was elsewhere, and it wasn’t on the lips that had been offered.

“Do you have a pen?” Rachael asked.

He handed her a pen, and she recorded her number down.

Officer Jamieson stared at the number, then shifted nervously.

From experience, Rachael knew that guys who were kinda-like engaged sometimes needed a little prompting, so The Temptress played her Ten and said, “Ring me if you wanta kiss me.”

Silence, and Rachael came to the conclusion that Officer J wasn’t a quick or decisive thinker, so maybe the Ace had to be produced, so The Seductress whispered, “Or ring me if you wanta fuck me.”

Silence still, Rachael cursing under her breath, “Fucking Jesus.”

Blushing, embarrassed, Officer Jamieson mumbled, “I’m, I’m kinda like engaged.”

If Rachael was a virile young male, she would have asked, Where, and what time? Yet she was simply a seductive temptress who was being unnecessarily stalled by a hesitant, virile young male, so she said, “I won’t tell your kinda-like-fiancée about it if you don’t.”

Officer Jamieson shook his head, “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to steal you off your fiancée,” Rachael said, then she paused, wondering whether subtle hints or sledgehammer tactics were appropriate for this situation. Would he pick up a subtle hint? … maybe not; go the sledgehammer … “I’m not trying to steal you off your fiancée, I’d just like to have sex with you.”

6’2”, built, impressive, hair gelled; actually, Rachael wouldn’t mind messing his hair up as he pounded into her; but Fuck-a-Ninny, he seemed stumped, and she was wondering whether she’d have to send him a personalised invitation. Hi, I’ll slip my panties off, you get your cock out, and we fuck yeah? Ohhh, that is, after you go down on me …

Officer Jamieson shuffled out from the behind the desk then herded Rachael into a corner.

“What are you saying exactly?” he whispered.

Rachael huffed, “You wanta have sex or not?”

“Sshhh, keep it down,” he mumbled, “I’m, I’m engaged.”

“Yeah, you kinda like said that,” Rachael began, “You make me feel horny, and I’d like to see you without the uniform on.”

Officer Jamieson under pressure, unable to think clearly until he muttered, “I’ve got a kid.”

“Maybe …” Rachael began, “Maybe you can leave the kid at home with your fiancée when you fuck me.”

Officer Jamieson was a member of Brocksley’s Finest, and it appeared that he may well be a faithful partner as well. Rachael knew that she had to spell it out for him. “We can have sex once a week for say, hmmm, three months, then I’ll wander off into the sunset and it just becomes a distant memory.”

Stunned, confused, Officer Jamieson rubbed a hand over his forehead, then said, “Well, I want to ummm, ummm … kiss you, but …”

“But what?”

“Well Lily, one day we’re going to get married.”

Rachael produced a provocative frown and said, “Well, I tried, but before I go …”

Silence; seconds ticking, Officer J staring at her until he asked, “Before you go, what?”

Rachael understood that he needed an incentive to keep him moving along, so she cocked her head and asked coyly, “You wanta see one of my tits?”

More silence, more seconds ticking, until he lowered his gaze and mumbled, “What are you saying?”

“Jesus,” Rachael huffed. “If you’d like to see one of my tits, I’ll flop it out.”

His gaze was on her chest, and his mind was obviously in disarray, but he mumbled uncertainly, “Well yeah, I would.”

Happy about the tentative advancement in proceedings, Rachael pushed him in the chest.

“What?’ he asked.

“Which one, which tit?”

He looked around the empty floorspace, then turned back to her, shrugged his shoulders and said sheepishly, “Arhh, both I guess.”

Rachael shook her head, trying to appear affronted, then she said sternly, “Officer Jamieson, Mark, I hardly even know you, so you only get to see one tit.”

He pointed to her left breast, and Rachael produced it for him. For a moment, he stared, then he gazed into her eyes and mumbled, “You’re beautiful.”

Tucking the breast back into the dress, she asked, “So, are we on?”

Suitably embarrassed, he asked, “On for what?”

Realising that he was nervous about the whole thing, she pushed up and whispered into his ear, “I just said that I want to have sex with you, so think about it.”

Officer Jamieson lowered his gaze and said, “I, I’ve never cheated on Lily.”

“Well this isn’t like cheating, it’s more like exploring.”

With head down, he asked, “Can I think about it?”

“Sure,” she nodded. “Just remember that I’m not talking about a relationship, this is more like a quick bang then we both go our separate ways, and if you don’t want it to go on for three months, like if you’re feeling guilty or whatever, you can end it whenever you want.”

A man walked into the station, and Officer Jamieson gazed at her, “I better see this gentleman.”

“Sure, call me if you want to get together.”

*

She knew he would, and she was right.

Rachael wasn’t full of herself, she was simply realistic. She was an attractive young woman who kept herself in shape, and she had seen the desire in Officer Jamieson’s eyes. Guys sometimes got a little intimidated by aggressive, forthright women, although when sex was on offer, they normally gave into their primal urges.

Three days it took him to think about it, before he presented himself before her.

He gazed around the unit and said, “Nice place.”

“Thanks, you wanta drink?”

“Yeah sure.”

Rachael produced a couple of Jim Beam cans and said, “Cheers.”

Mark gazed at her, needing important issues brought to the surface. “So, this isn’t a set-up, is it? I mean you’re not going to go running off to my fiancée or my boss?”

Rachael held up the rollie and asked, “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Is that …”

“Yes it is. I always replace that it relaxes me before I do something like this, plus it also enhances the experience.”

“Sure, but you know, it’s illegal.”

Rachael lit up, drew in, lolled her head back, then blew out smoothly. “I believe that our relationship will be defined by the adage that what happens between us, stays between us.”

Officer Jamieson, Mark, smiled and said, “Okay, well I’m glad you said that.”

Rachael got comfortable in the chair, then said, “While I’m chuffing, you can undress.”

“Now?”

“Yes please.”

Holding the can in his right hand, he nervously drummed his left fingers against the can, then asked, “Shouldn’t we undress together?”

Rachael blew out, gazing at him. “I’m sucking back and getting myself into the mood Mark, so undress please.”

Mark had a sip, stood, then kicked off his shoes. Socks came off, then sweater, belt buckle loosened, then he paused and asked, “So this is no set-up?”

“Mark…”

“What?”

“Shut up and get naked.”

Rachael knew that cops didn’t like getting told what to do, and he hesitated, gazed at her, although the jeans came down, then off, his thumbs hooking inside the shorts.

Rachael noticed that he was dithering, so she said sweetly, “I’m looking forward to this.”

Shorts came off, Mark standing before her in all his glory.

“Fuck,” Rachael wheezed, “You are a good-looking man.”

Rachael drew back, held, blew out, then stood. Two articles of clothing had she, and the t-shirt and the leggings soon found themselves on the floor. Rachael ambled across to him and pushed into him, running her hands over his firm buttocks. He speared in for a tentative kiss, and Rachael journeyed with him, then pulled back. “The rules of engagement …” she whispered, gazing up at him.

“Sorry?” he asked, his voice wracked with tension.

“The rules; I will require you to wear a condom, and the condom will only go on after you’ve satisfied me.”

“Satisfied you?”

“I work to the ladies-first principle, so first orgasm belongs to me.”

“Sure.”

Into the bedroom, Rachael tip-toed across to press play on her mini-stereo, and as a lilting orchestral arrangement floated out of the speakers, she jumped on the bed, the excitement building as she cooed, “Come Officer Jamieson, join me.”

Squeezed together, they kissed, hands everywhere, Rachael eventually rolling onto her back, and her boy, her man pleasing her as the fingers of his right hand got busily involved, while his lips sucked on her right breast.

Rachael closed her eyes, pleased with him, he fully engaged with her clitoris; stroking, tickling, kneading it, occasionally his two fingers slipping inside her to moisten themselves, the fingers then reacquainting themselves with her clitoris. Ohhhh yeah, a guy who knows what he’s doing … ohhh Lily, you are a lucky girl …

“Ummm …” Mark muttered.

Rachael had been in the zone, and she was pissed off that he had disrupted her focus. Glancing at him, she muttered, “Huh, what?”

“What’s this music?”

Jesus … “Beethoven.”

“Yeah, you don’t strike me as the classical music type.” he stated.

Rachael sighed, then huffed, “Mark, you’re stroking my clit, and you wanta have a discussion about music?”

“Well I-”

“Shut up and keep stroking,” she interrupted. “And a little quicker please.”

Back into it, her sighs lengthening, the sighs then becoming moans, a chant developing, a chant of promised treasures, he working her quicker as the chant changed to spluttering gasps, and then her body jitter-bugged, a gushing world of bodily sensations now available for her; toe-curling, teeth-gritting sensations, erupting, flowing; ten seconds, twenty seconds spent in Heaven, twenty seconds spent orgasming amongst the Angels … then lessening, the final eruptions being little baby eruptions, like little twitches, Rachael being where she wanted to be, in the Paradise of Satisfaction. There was a God Rachael assumed, because only a Supreme Being could have invented such a divine pleasure as a body-rattling orgasm.

She rested her arms above her head, blowing out in contentment, as his fingers became involved in a thorough journey of her interior.

She enjoyed the experience and could have lay there for the next hour, or the next day; but she liked the insertion to occur while she was still tingling. She reached down and stroked him; his penis already erect. Rachael studied the projectile that would soon be inside her. Mr Policeman’s erect penis was a seven-and-a-half to eight-inch weapon, and it was thick too, the bulbous head mushrooming over the stem. This was the kind of weapon that could make her go, Ouch! and Ohh yeah! in the same breath.

Rewards were on offer for those who provide satisfaction, so she kissed him, then slid down his body, stroking with intent. The fingers of her left hand tickled the head, while her right hand stroked at an even pace, the veins in the stem standing out, and she would have liked to tarry, would have liked to acquaint herself with every part of the eight inches, but no, job to do. If you pleasure me, I will pleasure you …

She licked the head, took her tongue on a delicate tour, then wrapped her lips around him, pulling back, her lips taut, she introducing a four-inch sliding suck, and then another, his raspy, desperate groans suggesting that this geyser may be about to blow. She unwrapped the condom and slipped it on him, then she shuffled to the side as she whispered, “Get off.”

“Huh?” he panted.

“Get off the bed; I wanta watch you fucking me.”

Clumisly he stood, watching as she positioned herself side-on, her legs dangling off the bed.

The legs splayed open, and he didn’t need a script to inform him of the next scene. With delicacy, he guided himself into her, pushing with restrained vigour.

Rachael studied him, pleased with herself. She had been the dominant player, the aggressor, and he seemed to understand that he couldn’t usurp her position of dominance just yet, even though it was obvious that he just wanted to fuck the shit out of her.

Being thrust into with reverence, Rachael took a moment to think about the phrase, Fuck the shit outta…. The phrase was obviously coined by and ass-fucker, because if you enter a girl’s vagina, there ain’t be gunna be no shit coming out brother.

She propped herself up on her elbows, wanting to watch him in action, enjoying watching herself get fucked, staring at his stomach, a distinct six-pack prominent, the six-pack outlined by the visually appealing V-shape that led to his groin; all muscles working, his thighs taut, the sheathed length thrusting into her, his right hand kneading her buttocks, and the pace quickening. She wanted to watch the whole thing, although his momentum forced her head to fall back onto the bed, he in charge now, not so reverent, he probably not even realising she was there anymore, he a slave to the eight inches, the eight inches now the master of both of them.

The release thrust was powerful and frantic, momentarily immobilising her, and subsequent thrusts were urgent, her entire body rocking with the attack, then soon, pumps and thrusts, grinding, swivelling, he wanting it to go on forever, although male body dynamics soon dictated that her channel was free of eight-inch projectiles, the eight inches reduced to a modest, floppy version of its former glory.

Mark flopped onto her, kissing her cheeks then her lips, then he rolled onto his back. With his right hand on his brow, he gazed at her, “How was it for you?”

Rachael spluttered out a laugh.

Mark thought the laugh was inappropriate, and he asked, “What?”

“That’s a guy question.”

“Sorry?”

“How was it for you?” she laughed. “Like what, you want me to rank you; you want me to give you a score out of ten?”

Mark was a bit pissed; girls normally said, Yeah, that was sensational! but this aggressive little trollop was almost mocking him. “Well I’d like to know if you enjoyed it.”

She smiled at him and said brightly, “You gave me an orgasm, which I enjoyed immensely, then you fucked me, which I also enjoyed.”

“Well okay, so you answered my question.”

“Sure, but don’t ask me that again.”

“Why not?”

“If you perform poorly, I’ll let you know, otherwise, just take it for granted that I enjoyed it.”

Mark pondered, wondering what to say, and he spoke before he’d settled on an appropriate response, “You’re a strange chick.”

Rachael rolled into him and then messed up his gelled hair.

“Hey!”

She continued messing the hair, as she asked, “You like fucking strange chicks?”

He pushed her hand away, laughed and shook his head, “I dunno, this has been, arrhhh …”

She waited for him, then prompted, “This has been what?”

“Weird.”

Rachael propped up on her left elbow and gazed at him as she asked, “Weird?”

Mark shook his head and said uncertainly, “I dunno, everything happened so quickly, I mean I’m a bit stunned.”

“Bucko, listen,” Rachael began as she looked into his eyes, “Like I said, I don’t want to steal you off your fiancée, I just want an occasional fuck. We’re not courting or anything, this is just sex, pure and simple; you understand?”

“Well, kinda.”

“I don’t want to know how your day was, and I don’t want to know how your kid is, I just want to use you, and in return, you can use me.”

Mark smirked, “Did I mention that I think you’re strange?”

The stimuli that Rachael had been seeking was physical, and it appeared that there wasn’t going to be any intellectually stimulating after-sex conversation, so she asked, “Anyway, you want a shower?”

Thirty minutes later, Rachael walked him to the door and reached up to kiss him on the cheek, and after delivering an Uncle and Auntie kiss, she whispered, “Well, thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“Yeah, thanks for blowing me off and fucking me.”

Mark laughed, “Yeah, well thanks for letting me.” He ran his hand over her left cheek, “When can I see you again?”

“Did you like my idea of once a week for three months?”

“Ummm, once a week is good, but there’s no need to put a time limit on it.”

Being a seductive temptress, Rachael wasn’t interested in a relationship, so she needed to let him know exactly what this was about. Looking straight into his eyes, she said, “I’d like to see you once a week for three months, but we need an end date here.”

“Why?”

“If it goes any longer than three months, you’ll probably fall in love with me.”

Mark coughed out a laugh, “Jeez, nobody can ever say that you lack confidence.”

“Anyway, fuck off,” she said. “Call me next week, I’m available anytime except Friday evening.”

“What are you doing Friday evening?”

“None of your business.”

*

The next morning, Rachael popped in to see Marco. “Hello Fat Pudding!”

Marco threw his arms out in mock exaltation as he gushed, “Ohhh, it’s cold outside, but my whole world warms when you walk in the room!”

Rachael gazed at him, thought about his reply, then said, “Okay, that was a pretty cool comment; is that one of the lines you use when the hookers pop in to visit you?”

“Errr, I may have used that before,” he admitted, then he asked excitedly, “Ohhh, Beethoven’s Third was ringing out from above last night; does that mean that little Teriny has a new one on the go?”

“It’s his Sixth Symphony, moron,” Rachael replied, “And yeah, someone popped in to see me, and they provided a blow-job and a fuck with an orchestral accompaniment.”

“Yeah, who’s the guy?”

“He was the-”

“Or the chick,” he interrupted, “I know you swing it both ways.”

“He, was a guy; he’s the cop that took my statement the night that chick got hit by the car.”

“Go Teriny, doing the boys in blue!”

“Wanta coffee?” Rachael asked as she turned his kettle on.

“Yes, please; how did Mr Police Officer go?”

“Well he’s six foot two and built, and his cock is probably an eight-incher, and he shaves his balls, and he gave me a screaming orgasm …” A thought rattled through her mind, and she cocked her head to look at him as she asked, “Arrhh, did you hear me?”

“Shit, no. I’ve always wanted to hear you go off, but I heard Beethoven’s fucking Third instead.”

“It’s his Sixth, Dickhead!”

“Whatever; is the Sixth significant? I mean I can never remember your rating system.”

Rachael plopped his coffee in front of him, then sat opposite. “The Sixth Symphony is the quiet one, the Pastoral, and it’s romantic and lilting. The Pastoral is mood-setting music, and it invites the other participant to explore and meander.”

“Which he did obviously.”

“Yes, he did, so he won a gold star, and next time I see him, he’ll get the Third Symphony.”

“So the Third Symphony is an upgrade on the Sixth?”

“Well the Third, the Eroica, has a few moments of power and grandeur about it, so I’m hoping that the music will prompt him to go harder and like, you know …”

“Like what?”

“Well, like pound the fuck out of me.”

“Teriny…”

“What?”

“I think you’re probably the weirdest chick on the planet.”

Rachael smiled and said, “Yeah, that coming from a guy who knows four chicks, and three of them are hookers.”

“Anyway, lucky cop, getting an upgrade.”

“Hmmm, he’s good-looking, knows what he’s doing, so I’m hoping that he might take me through the full range of Rachael Terina’s classical hits.”

“Explain the range again.”

“Well for beginners, they get the Pastoral, the romantic one, which is actually great music to get your clit tickled to; and it also gives him or her a chance to show me what they’ve got, and if the person impresses me, we move to the Third, the Eroica, which is all about power and grandeur. If he or she is still impressing me, we move to the William Tell Overture which is just like going-off music, premium fucking music; and if he keeps stepping up, we grant him Beethoven’s finest, the Ninth, which to me is like orgasming in Heaven with all the Angels watching. Then if he’s still blowing me satisfactorily and his cock is rattling my bowel, we unveil the big one, Offenbach’s, Infernal Galop.”

“Is that the can-can one?”

“Indeed it is.”

“So let me get this right; the major fucking music for you, a twenty-first century chick, is something from the eighteenth century?”

“Nineteenth century, moron.”

“I did mention that I thought you were strange, didn’t I?”

“Marco, the Infernal Galop, or the Can-Can as you refer to it, it’s not about the Angels watching you get fucked, it’s about the Angels fucking you!”

“Hmmm, I’d like to watch you get fucked, especially if it was me doing it.”

“Yeah, fat chance,” she laughed, “Only two guys have ever elevated to Offenbach, but I’m hoping that six-foot-two-Boy-in-Blue will be the third.”

“How often you gunna see him?”

“I arranged a tentative once-a-week schedule for maybe a three-month period.”

“Okay, well I’ll keep my ears open for the play-list.”

“If he gets to Offenbach, I guarantee, you’ll hear about it!” she smiled, “Anyway, I better get going.”

“Whatchaya doing?”

“I’m out of powder.”

“Get me some, will you?”

“Sure.”