The Last Reflexive Ch 03

By: Col. Brunhilda 'Iceberg' Buriman, ret.

Sorority Sister of Pi Loda Cum

Chapter Three: Meeting

Once at work Harriette always counted on lil' Mikey to have a strong cup of coffee waiting on her desk, on the mini heating pad he'd bought for her. In return she permitted him to glimpse one of her breasts now and again. One day she made the mistake of allowing him to see both breasts at the same time and found an urn of coffee awaiting her.

She gulped the first cup quickly, knowing Mikey will notice and prepare another. For some reason she found herself more than ready for a fight this day, and had come prepared for battle. Maybe it was the late night face ride, or constant demands of her job, or the tightness of those new leotards, she couldn't tell, but regardless, she felt something strange, her female intuition told her so. Her father taught her the art of understanding and trusting her feminine intuition, and today it was more eerie than ever. While on the way to work she found herself stroking the five inch barrel of her .357 like she would a pet, which she's never done before. This was the only male she respected, her soul mate, and one shot killed all.

The meanest streets of Philadelphia were Harriette's stomping grounds, and every syndicate boy, loan shark, pervert, mother and the child knew her. Here, her presence packed quite a wallop in more ways than a few. This morning, the tempest filling her mind was just beginning to swirl when she entered the station to find me there. She was told the Chief wanted to speak with her, which reminded her of the appointment with me, which explained to her somewhat why things seemed awry. She stepped into her office to find Mikey's coffee waiting, and grabbed messages from her desk, and tarried some. A lavender envelope intrigued her so she picked it up and ripped it open to slip free and unfold a lavender note.

Sweetness, the message began, that was the best birthday I ever celebrated. Harriette stopped reading to let a smile toy with the corners of her mouth. She closed her eyes to relive those moments of passion and thought to herself. 'Yes indeed, it was more than adequate, in fact it was damn good. He's handsome, and one of my better finds, so I guess I'll keep him for a while'. Then she sighed, shook her head, gulped down half a cup of coffee, and opened her eyes to continue reading.

I need another hug to put me back on course ...c'mon, Princess, let's do something special on Valentine's Day. Spend it with me. Just you and me, with your houseboys in the closet. An occasion to celebrate! Or, I'll take you anywhere in the world, all three of you if need be, and buy you whatever you need. How 'bout it? Please? Your devoted bootlicker, A.

"Jesus X-ray, Christ, of all days! I've gotta use my fukin brain today and MacGuire's gotta throw my train of thought right off the fukin track with this Valentine's Day shit," she said to herself, gulping down the last of her coffee, then placing the mug aside. "Not on this particular day of any year, pal," Harriette mumbled aloud.

"Ah, Christ! All night unwinding and I'm already stressed and getting a headache," she muttered to herself, running fingers through her hair. "So why not get a pain in the ass as well." She looked up from the paper and spotted me through the glass panes. She scrutinized me a bit and then forced a smile. I must have looked strange staring as I was, but I couldn't help it. I could see in her the Sarge, standing tall and mean as ever. She had his stance, his look and demeanor. She even gulped coffee like him, though she didn't dress like him.

Harriette dropped the note and envelop to her desk and rubbed her legs together to scratch an itch of memory before she dutifully marched to the Chief's office. I stood to greet her as she entered but she paid me no mind. Her arrogance didn't bother me, as her dad had been the same way. I was taken by her taste in clothing.

"Morning sir," Harriette began without looking at me. She stood before her boss with hands at her sides, holding her chest out to him. "Sorry I'm late, got lost in a rather long, extended..." she went on only to be cut off by the Chief. The Chief's eyes went first to her breasts, which elicited a raised eyebrow from his young detective, chasing his eyes to hers.

"Relax, Harriette," the Chief butted in, trying to act nonchalant. Beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and it did seem he was occupied elsewhere, but he stayed the course. "Dude's here to talk with ya, dat's all. So jus' relax a minute, will ya?" He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a cigar, bit off the tip to spit in the corner and began chewing on it. "Damn it all, Harriette, I'm trying to quit, but ya just won't let me will ya," he said, slobbering up his stogie while settling back into his chair with a 'humph', and an 'ohhhhhhhhhhh'. "Between what you do here, and that damn dildo you gave my wife, you're killin' me." Harriette smirked, pulling out a cigarette. I was there with a flame before she could open her Zippo. She nodded and accepted, then returned to the Chief disregarding me. "And dis is one of them no smokin' areas, damnit!"

"Go on, blame me," Harriette snickered, ignoring his no smoking reminder. "You're poor wife needed a nice size friend who didn't complain about her cooking. Next time I'll get her the real thing," she commented, turning to face me, finally. "Besides, what do you care? You're, ah, 'finished' at the end of each shift," she concluded. The Chief shook his head and looked at me to speak at Harriette.

"I do care, and I do blame you, damn it. Who the hell else around here causes me more headaches, in both places, than you? Huh? Who? Someday I'm not gonna be around to help ya, ya know. Then what?" The Chief seemed a bit irate, or about to explode, chewing on the soggy end of his cigar.

"Yo, I got a job in the real world," Harriette shouted, expelling a large plume of smoke, dousing the butt in one of the many coffee cups on the Chief's desk. "Where you used to be at one time!"

"Hey, Harriette, we all do. And I could use a little cooperation from you. Like not giving anymore toys to my wife, damn it," the Chief shot back. Harriette understood his frustration, and had learned how to keep him on edge, or so she believed. He was getting upset and grabbed for the bottle of aspirins on his desk, and took a couple, washing them down with cold coffee, careful to avoid the cup containing Harriette's cigarette butt. "Damn I hate cold coffee," he said looking at me and shrugging. "Forget it Harriette, just cool it. Like I said, this is... Ohhhhhhhh, ahhhhh," he went on while his eyes closed for a moment, to some sensation. Harriette shook her head and turned to face me.

"I don't give a rat's ass what his name is," Harriette barked. "He's either Internal Affairs, or some government goon sent in..."

"Excuse me Chief, I do believe Ms. Karson and I can take care of business better in private, if that's alright with you," I interjected. Harriette and I looked at each other, neither blinking. I'm sure we both tried picturing the other nude. The Chief slammed his hands down onto the desk and stood, releasing one whopper of a long exaggerated fart.

"Ohhhh, nice! Now you're treating me like your wife," Harriette said aloud as the chief pulled his pants up over his hard-on, breaking long strands of thick liquid still connected to someone under the desk. It was then I realized I hadn't been listening to bad Calypso music, nor the sounds of a nursing cow from a sound-effect record, but the sloppy renditions of someone under the Chief's desk sucking him off.

"Fine with me," he bellowed in a huff. Harriette held her breasts up and glared at me while I looked her over calmly. The Chief left, telling me not to worry because his under-desk secretary was deaf. Then he slammed the door behind him, murmuring under his breath. Once closed Harriette reached for and lit a cigarette before I could act.

"Well, who in the hell are you," she asked, squaring off with me, her eyes moving up and down my body rudely, from my eyes to my crotch. I could see she'd inherited some of her father's finer and more tacit traits. I sat down and smiled, leaving her standing. I shifted my position ever so slightly, reaching under my jacket to grab the forty-five. Pulling it free I placed it on the desk for her to see, and started it vibrating.

It moved over the surface of the desk slowly, driven by the vibrating handle. I waited for a reaction from Harriette while it pushed papers around, knocked over the lamp, and made a mess. I let it speak to her, sure it was calling to certain parts of her anatomy, I could tell by the hardness of her nipples. I felt sure she couldn't wait to oblige it, but Harriette kept her cool, and looked at it without moving, eyes riveted, ears attentive to the drone of the vibrating handle on the wood desk. I thought sure she'd grab her crotch at any moment. Harriette looked to have seen a ghost and for an instant, her eyes filled with a growing lust, appeared moist, which disappeared to a hushed voice.

"Where in hard-on hell did you get that," she asked softly, her tone changing as she snubbed out her butt on the floor. She stood staring and listening, a bit of smile in the corners of her mouth. Except for the droning vibration, and a lust-filled swallow, things were quiet till I spoke.

"That's one of the things I want to speak with you about," I said playing it slow and easy, turning off the gun.

"Well..." she began with a suddenly keen interest, more unsure of my motives than ever. "You aren't after my ass then?"

"No, not exactly," I said, noticing officers glancing in at us through the glass pane. "I'd like to speak with you."

"Well go 'head, I'm not stopping you," she said staring at the forty-five. I could only imagine how difficult it must have been for her, to not jump up on the desk onto the gun.

"Not here and not now, Ms. Karson." Her eyes returned to bore into mine. We looked at each other now with intent and it was evident she could see I was serious, and now, so was she.

"Harriette, call me, Harriette," she stated.

"It's imperative we speak, Harriette, alone somewhere."

"Saint Nikademo Church, Ninth and Catherine. Noon."

"Fine with me."

"Need directions?"

"No thanks, I got it."

Harriette looked at the forty-five again, and almost reached for it. It was obvious she wanted it, but controlled herself. I reached for it as she turned to walk out of the office, closing the door behind her silently, the scent of Chief's fart following her out, leaving me with her Chanel and my thoughts. I stood and smiled to myself, knowing the worst was over, and somewhat interested in what chief kept under his desk. The Chief walked back in, looking at me and shrugging, now chomping his cigar. He wondered what it was I said to Harriette to make her act in such a peculiar way.

"I'd apologize for her, but wouldn't do no good," he said, rushing to his seat in order to regain his place and continue where he left off.

"No apologies expected, Chief," I said while standing. "I'm more than familiar with Harriette. But, I appreciate your time and help. I need to be going," I said offering my hand to him, but his pants were already down and I could tell he was settled into a mouth, so I let it go.

"Whadidya say," he began, catching himself. "I mean, ah..." The poor goat was almost as intrigued by Harriette's strange behavior as he was about spewing his hot seeds down a soft throat, and I left him that way.

"Thanks again for everything," I said.

"Anytime, and if there's anything ya need jus' let me know," he said as I walked out of his office and into a sea of activity and noise. A loud long sound of release following me out.