E Mails From The Rim Oh Brother

From: "Erika XXXX ”

To: "Doug XXXX"

Sent: Monday, August 19, 2002 5:24pm

Subject: My Special Brother

Doug,

I have tired several times to write this to you since Saturday. I always get a few lines into it and then stop. I know that it is partly because I am having a difficult time sorting out my feelings but it is also because there are some things I want to tell you—there are things you should know.

You have always been my favorite brother. I get along with Arty and Barry all right, when I see them, which isn’t that often--I like them--but, even though they are only a few years older than you, they always seemed very old to me. The four years difference between you and them didn’t seem to faze you much but you have to remember that there is almost ten years difference between them and me. When I was going into the third grade, they were already on their way to college. I just really didn’t get to know them very well.

You were the brother that was around all the time. You are the one who took care of me; did the babysitting; you nursed my colds; you worked with me on fractions, and history, and that icky frog I had to cut up; taught me how to ride a bike, to throw a baseball, and how to not take guff from the teasers in school. Mom helped me with “girl” things but you helped me with “life” things. Mom had her hands full, too, trying to keep Dad in line. And Dad? Well, I know he tried but the straight and narrow was far too straight and far too narrow for him.

You were the guy I looked up to, the guy I could count on, the guy who was--well, it is the truth--the only guy that really made me feel like I was someone.

And then you went away to college.

I was heartbroken. I don’t know if you knew that or not. I was almost fourteen and you were almost nineteen and I guess I just adored you. The boys that were around were dorks--all of them. I went on dates but I didn’t like it. It always seemed to me that the guys really didn’t care who I was, or what I thought, or what I really liked. They just wanted to paw me, control me, and get me to do things I really didn’t want to do. (Blowjobs!! Eeeeccchhh!! I only did that two times: once, because I wasn’t sure what it was and, twice, because I wanted to make sure that it was as repulsive as I thought it was the first time I did it. It was!)

It was even worse the older I got because that is when I started to get good looking. I can’t deny it; I know I am good looking. That was a curse as much as a blessing. The ordinary boys, the really good kids, wouldn’t ask me out because they thought I was too pretty to ever go out with them. So, I was stuck between essentially two competing groups: the jocks who all thought they were entitled to the cute, blonde cheerleader--a warrior’s right--and the “bad boys” who looked at snagging “white bread” as flipping off the society that they “weren’t going let fuck with them”. It got so I would only date when it was absolutely necessary—proms and things.

Honest to god! I stayed a virgin! (I didn’t count the blowjobs.) It wasn't like I didn't know what sex was about. I started masturbating when I was fourteen, about the time you went away to school--come to think of it. It felt good and it helped take the edge off my dissatisfaction with the boys but I can't say I was captivated by it. And my thoughts were mostly of romantic things not raw sex.

I spent a lot of time with my girlfriends. I spent a lot of time with Mom. I watched Dad deteriorate. All of the true affection that was in my life was from women. I was very close to a couple of my girlfriends in high school--very close. I would have “sleep-overs” with them and we would sleep together. We wouldn’t masturbate or have sex with each other; we would just go to sleep talking about things, holding each other. It is hard to describe what a comfort that was when all of the other stuff was going on.

Then Dad died. I was just eighteen. That was sudden, you know, and threw everything into emotional turmoil. The money situation was marginal to O.K. because Mom had a good job and kept working. But I remember the decision you had to make whether to come home and help or continue with college. You did the right thing. You got a full time job and finished college in six years.

Well, then it was just Mom and I. We were pretty lonely and emotionally pretty ragged. We started sleeping together for company, just like I did with my girlfriends. It made me feel safe and loved. Sometimes she would just hold me and brush away my tears as I brushed away hers. She would stroke my hair and hum that motherly song that has no real melody and no intelligible words. And I would hold her in my arms to make sure she wouldn’t go anywhere.

After a few weeks, Mom began, little by little, to do more than stroke my hair. I don’t think it was intentional; I just think she was missing what little contact that she had with Dad. It wasn’t just the contact from him but, maybe more important, contact for him. Lord knows she had done a lot of taking care of him those last few years. So, I became the object of her attention and I didn’t resist because I needed the attention.

We were laying bed one night when she kissed me. She didn’t kiss me on the cheek; she kissed me on the lips. And it wasn’t one of those pecky, for the sake of appearance kisses; it was a full-on kiss on the lips—I could feel her tongue! I was taken aback; I wasn’t ready for it. Mom sensed this and cooed, “O.K., baby.” as she stroked my cheek. But she kissed me again gently and held me to her.

That is when I felt the stirring warmth that I had only the barest inkling of before. I felt the blood rush all over my body, everything began to tingle, my lips became so sensitive that I could almost feel Mom’s pulse as she kissed me. The texture of my nightgown stimulated every nerve ending on my skin; my nipples were points of exquisite pleasure as they brushed against the fabric that came between Mom’s breasts and mine. I had the thought that this shouldn’t be happening, that somehow it wasn’t exactly right, but I was being carried along on this wave of sensation that was truly new to me.

Mom’s kisses became more passionate; her tongue finally parted my lips and sought out mine. Her hands began to stimulate every inch of my body. Her right hand caressed my cheek, then my neck, then my shoulder and arm; her left arm was around my waist pulling me to her, pressing me closer and closer to her. My breasts were so sensitive they ached and deep inside me I could feel the pleasure begin to surge and envelope my whole body. I could feel my vagina go from moist to wet and then I felt that dampness begin to creep onto my inner thighs.

A moan began deep in my throat and had to escape, though I tried resist. It was the resistance that heightened the pleasure and so I tensed again as the moan started to rise once more. My pleasure intensified yet again. I felt like my whole body was going to go into spasm.

Mom stopped for an instant and took off her nightgown and then began to inch my nightgown up my body and over my head. I rolled onto my back and halfway sat up to help her. The touch of her bare skin against mine, the caress of her breasts against mine, the friction of her thighs against my leg, licked like flames in the fire of my ecstasy. It was becoming unbearable.

As she knelt between my parted legs and leaned forward to kiss me again, I saw her hand move between her own legs and I saw her fingers begin to do that delicate dance with her clitoris.

Her lips touched mine again and then began to move down my chin, to my throat, to my chest. I could feel her tongue trace little circles on my breasts and barely, oh so barely, brush each of my nipples. Each touch of my nipples was like an electric shock through my body. Her tongue continued down my tummy drawing its script of love down through my pubic hair and down to my vagina.

The barest touch of her tongue on my lips set me quivering, and then I felt her tongue dab oh so gently on my clitoris—once, twice, three times and stop; once, twice, three times, and stop. This went on and on—sometimes more pressure, sometimes less; sometimes faster and some times slower; sometimes up and down, sometimes side to side.

I felt like I had to explode. And I did—at least my pussy did. I came in a body wracking spasm, the convulsion expelled all of the wetness from my vagina onto my mother’s lips and onto my legs—wave upon wave. And yet she wouldn’t stop. She kept on and kept on with her tongue raising my feelings to incredible heights only to have another orgasm tumble them to rest. And again, and again, and again……

I finally had to ask Mom to stop because I was afraid my heart would stop after the next orgasm. After two more orgasms, she did stop.

I lay there feeling the aftershocks recede and feeling that indescribable relaxation consume me. I had never felt anything even remotely like that in my entire life. I intuitively knew then that there wasn’t any man that would ever be able to give me that.

I asked Mom if she were all right. She smiled at me as she caressed my cheek, “Dearest, you have given me back feelings tonight that I thought were dead. Feeling you experience your climaxes made me come too, sweetie—with a little help from my hand!”

I could see the light in her eyes, a light that hadn’t been there for many years. She seemed transformed; she looked years younger, her skin had smoothed, energy radiated from her, and she smiled that bright smile that illuminated my soul.

I felt no shame, no embarrassment, no cause to hide; I felt joy and gratitude that we had shared an experience that was, in a sense, a birth for me and a re-birth for her. I had never felt so close to another human being.

Mom and I shared sex many times after that but none were as memorable. But we did find the ability to satisfy each other. She taught me many things about my body that I had only guessed at before. She taught me how to use my body to create a sublime orgasm in her, and in any other woman who would be open to it.

After that, men held no sexual interest for me whatsoever. It is interesting how much that puts a woman on a different footing in her relationships with men. I didn’t spurn men; I just didn’t give them any encouragement nor did I give them any hope that I would respond to their advances. I know it frustrated them to see this glorious looking female (and you know I am not being immodest) who wouldn’t give them a tumble. It was amusing to watch them try to puzzle their way through the problem only to find that there was no solution that was going to get them what they wanted. After a while, they would just give up. I suppose I could use this to torture the poor slobs but, you know me, I don’t do it for that reason--that just isn’t my style. I really could care less what they think, or what they think they want, or what they wind up not getting.

But that brings me to the Saturday night. Lydia and I were trying to console Lania who was obviously distraught over the fiasco with Dirk. Lydia and I know how to distract any woman who is feeling sorry for herself. You happened to walk in on the middle of that little exercise. I was in the midst of full passion when I became aware that you were in the room. Lania told me later that she had already given you a blowjob (how she can do something like that—and enjoy it—I will never know) and that you were taking a breather when you decided to play with me.

At first, I couldn’t imagine what was going on. I knew there were only three of us and I could see that Lydia was still working on Lania as I was working on Lydia and as I was working on myself. All hands were accounted for, so to speak. So, when I felt other hands working with my hands plying the dildo in and out of my pussy, I skipped a beat licking Lydia’s clit and glanced between my legs. There you were!

You had a look on your face that was glorious, as if you had just found a bicycle under the Christmas tree. That alone caused my pleasure to surge. There has never been any man who has been able to create that feeling in me and that is separate and apart from sex! You know that I simply adore you. And then you began to work your sexual magic. Oh, my god, Doug! You were simply magnificent. If only I could expect that sex with any man would be as good as sex with you, I might be inclined to try. But I don’t think I will try to find out—I don’t want to risk the disappointment.

Sex with Lydia and with our mutual girlfriends is wonderful and our relationship is otherwise enriching. I couldn’t ask for more.

I know I have gone on and on but I had to get all of this out on the table. I just wanted you to know how things are with me but, most important, I wanted you to know how much I love you, my favorite brother—my favorite man.

I hope I am your favorite sister. Come to think of it, I HAVE TO BE—I am your ONLY sister!!!

Erika

P.S. Mom has filled me in on some of the goings on you have shared with her in your emails. I hope you don’t mind. I love you and I love her and I know you love both of us. I can’t see how anything that has happened is going to change that.

From: "BFD.Internal Affairs.County.gov ”

To: "BigBossDA.county.gov"

Sent: Tuesday, August 20, 2002 9:44am

Subject: Informant Results

With respect to your recently initiated investigation, attached is a .doc file that contains exerpts of a verbatim transcript of the conversations that our informant had with the potential suspects. The bulk of the conversation took place Monday, August 19, 2002, between the hours of 6:30 and 10:30.

These are people whose voices appear on the tape during this period:

Bobbie XXXX (B)

Doug XXXX (D)

Erika XXXX (E)

Lania CCCC (LA)

Lydia CCCC (LY)

Multiple voices are termed (GP)

The first part of the tape contains casual conversation relative to Doug arriving with mother, Bobbie, at the apartment of Erika, who is Bobbie’s daughter--Doug’s sister. Lania and Lydia also appear to be present for most of this discussion. This consisted of general greetings, polite inquiries as to health and prospects, and jocular contention as to the evening’s dining arrangements.

The following occurs at the “Maison Argonne” restaurant over pre-dinner cocktails:

D: We have to talk about Dirk.

LY: Why? What has been going on?

E: Yes, what?

L: What is it?

D: Mom, you remember? I filled you in on this before you left to fly down here but I haven’t told Erika, Lania or Lydia anything about it yet. Like I told Mom, Dirk got me out to lunch with him and Gary Sunday and laid this bullshit story on me about you girls. Essentially he said that Erika and Lania were rigging drug testing to keep some of Lydia’s clients from violating probation.

GP: Bullshit! That cocksucker! What the fuck is that asshole trying to do?

D: Hang on! Let me tell you. He says that Erika is telling you, Lydia, when your clients are to have their “random” drug test at Consolidated Labs and that the ones that don’t clean up in advance and test dirty are having their lab results changed by Lania who processes the reports from Consolidated.

GP: That slimy S.O.B.!! He’s trying to torpedo Lydia! That backstabbing dick licker!

LY: I have a problem here. I may have to leave. You said Gary was in on this? I represent him you know.

D: I don’t know, Lydia. I don’t think he is in on it; I think he only knows what Dirk is telling him. Besides, it is my understanding that Gary doesn’t have to test since his rap didn’t include drug or alcohol related charges. Am I right?

LY: Well, that is public record. I wouldn’t be violating any attorney/client confidence. No, he doesn’t have to test. I think I will just sit here and keep my mouth shut. I certainly have the right to listen to conversation that concerns my practice.

D: O.K. Lydia. Anyway, what’s the deal?

E: I have NEVER done anything like that! How could he possibly back that up? Lydia and I are scrupulous about not discussing things that go on at work. In fact, I couldn’t even see Gary’s file because my supervisor knew that he was Lydia’s client. The same holds true of any of the other files of people that Lydia represents. Dirk’s just full of shit!

LA: (voice muffled—tearful) That bastard! How could he say that? I have never done anything remotely like that. I take the data off the lab slips, input them on the computer, and queue them up for review by the lab tech. They O.K. them and e-mail them to the probation department.

D: Lania, what happens to the original lab slips?

LA: They get batched and filed in document storage boxes. We have to keep them for seven years.

D: So the originals could be checked, right?

LA: Yes, but how is that going to help? If the e-mail reports are different, that will just give Dirk’s bullshit story credence!

D: Fuck, that’s right! Sorry mom! What the hell….

LY: You know, I don’t think I can comment on this because, well you know, if it

hits the fan, I am likely to be knee deep in it but let me do a hypothetical. Let’s just say that someone got access to the computer files of the lab results. Is it possible for that “someone” to alter the lab results? What would the computer record look like? Which files were altered? A situation like that would take some good old investigative leg work. I have to go to the little girls room. You guys talk if you want but it would be a good idea for you to be talking about something else when I get back.

(Sounds of someone getting up from the table and walking away)

D: O.K. Lania, that may be it. Is there any way Dirk could have hacked into Consolidated’s computers?

LA: I don’t know enough about computers to say. I have a password and I can get into the system from home if I have to--I answer e-mails all the time after hours.

D: O.K. Lania. Where do you keep your password? How often do you change it?

LA: I would change my password once a month just like they want me to and…well, this is embarrassing, I used to write it down and put it in that little case I keep in my purse for my tampons. That was my reminder to change my password every month! As of tomorrow, that changes!!!

D: So, Lania? Who else knew about that?

LA: Well, nobody! Not Dirk, anyway! NO! Wait a minute! That’s not true. Once, soon after Dirk and I had…well, had gotten….”intimate”, we were at the beach and I started to spot—well flow, actually. I asked him to go to the car and get my purse and to bring it to me as I headed to the ladies bathroom. It was embarrassing so I was in a hurry. He rushed off to the car, got my bag, and was sprinting back when he dropped it. Stuff went all over the place in the sand. I yelled at him to “…just find the tampon case, dammit, and hurry….”

E: Oh, shit!

LA: Well how was I to know that he didn’t know what it looked like. I mean it is one of those pretty looking ones, tortoise shell, it could have looked like a pen and pencil set to him for all I know. “What does it look like?”, he yelled back.. I yelled back at him “Goddammit! It looks like a ….” I could see him picking things up and opening them as I marched in place in front of the ladies room—my glasses case, my make up bag….then I saw him open up the tampon case. He held it up and waved it at me, “Is it this?” “Yesssss,” I hissed as loud as I could and waved for him to bring it over to me, pronto. Well the password was in the the top of the case. He could have seen it then.

D: That’s probably it. The S.O.B. stole your password and fucked with the test reports before they got approved and mailed.