Copyright @ calibeachgirl and shuttlepilot
All rights reserved, 2011
Chapter 1 Cry Me A River, Justin Timberlake
You don't have to say...
what you did,
I already know...
I found out from him
Now there's just no chance...
for you and me...
there'll never be
And don't it make you sad about it...
Mary Gault heard the heavy rain beating against the fogged motel window; she opened her eyes and looked at her lover, feeling her heart begin to beat with a quickening rhythm. Just looking at him... seeing the hunger in his light blue eyes as he gazed down at her... that was enough to arouse her and she felt herself dampen. She just couldn't remember his name and wondered if he cared. She didn't.
She reached up to touch his face, loving the way he felt under her fingertips. "I saw you watching me... just the way you are now... and I felt... hot and breathless and... naked," she softly spoke.
He turned his head to press his lips to her palm. Then he leaned over her and very slowly began to unbutton her pale green blouse. When her blouse was unbuttoned to her waist, he opened it slowly and bent to trail his lips along the lacy cup of her bra. The front fastening gave way at his touch and his mouth pushed the material aside.
Mary caught her breath and her hand slipped to the back of his neck. She closed her eyes and bit back a whimper at the unbearable ache when he teased her tightening nipples with tiny flicks of his tongue.
She was coping with the buttons of his shirt, opening it up so that she could slide her fingers into the thick mat of hair on his chest and explore his hard cock pressing against her.
He reached down and caught the hem of her skirt, drawing it up as he touched her bare leg until the light floral material was gathered at her waist. She thought he would take her, standing against the wall.
Mary couldn't believe how incredibly sensual, how nasty it felt to lie there on the same motel bed as countless others had, her clothing opened or pushed out of the way. Only her panties were discarded and when he had stripped them down her legs, she could only make a shaky sound of need and parted her thighs for the touch of his fingers.
God, she was so wanton, so completely and utterly abandoned of fidelity when he touched her that nothing else mattered except feeling his hands on her and his mouth and aching because she had to have his cock inside her.
He shrugged out of his shirt and pushed his pants and shorts down and off and when he entered her, pushing himself into her pulsing pussy, she cried out and tightened her legs to pull him even deeper.
When it was over, when her heart had stopped pounding and her breathing had steadied, when her clothing had been put back into place, she was completely silent. She didn't talk to him and he left her in the room, already another faceless lover in her long line of conquests.
An hour later, Mary left the bed, walked over to the room table, picked up her keys and purse and took one look around making sure nothing was left behind. She saw her key chain charm, the Marine Corps bulldog from her husband swinging as she picked out her car key. He was still in Afghanistan and would be for another four months. They had an 'open marriage', he just didn't know it.
She opened the door and stepped out into the rain. "Hello," she said, smiling. 'My, aren't you handsome."
**********
"What do you have?" Sunday morning was never the right time to look at dead bodies and this one was no exception, especially in the dark rain that blew in off the gray Pacific. Caitlyn Bradford yawned and stretched her five foot eight frame, took off her 'granny' glasses slipping them into her blouse pocket, rubbed the bridge of her nose and then wiped the doughnut's cinnamon crumbs from her fingers as she left the unmarked police car.
She stepped out into the drizzling remains of the storm; she had her dark hair damp by the time she reached the motel room. Caitlyn reached into her pocket and put on her glasses and then pulled on her gloves and blue booties, hoping the murder scene wouldn't be too messy. She hated messy.
"Mary Gault, age 23, married to Sergeant Wilbur Hooper, USMC..." her partner, Garrett Brinkley read from his notes. He was short, only five six and built like a linebacker but amazingly fast on his feet and had the aggravating habit of running his hands through his buzz-cut.
"Wilbur?" Jesus, who named their kid 'Wilbur' anymore? Caitlyn walked closer to the space between the bed and the small table by the window. She wondered if they'd change the bloody rug after the investigation or just try to clean it enough that it wasn't noticeable. She went to look under the bed but the frame came all the way down to the carpet.
"Yeah, but his friends call him 'Will'. She took three shots to the chest, death probably instantaneous, little blood loss, probably small caliber... probably here with some boyfriend or something. Night clerk says she came with some guy." Garrett reached into his pocket and pulled out a Snickers. "Want some?" he asked.
Caitlyn shook her head 'no'. "Some john? hooking gone bad? Damn, Garrett, at least, eat that outside. You're fucking up my crime scene." She ran a hand through her still wet hair, trying to dry some of it out. She couldn't understand these damned military wives cheating on their husbands. Marrying too young was probably the underlying cause. Just another excuse to cheat, as old as the Bible... if there had been another guy in Eden, Eve would have found a way to cheat with him, too... the original bitch... she found a snake, too.
"Doesn't seem to be the case... her purse is still here and so's her car keys. Probably a pick-up from the Main Attraction down on Coast Highway, it's the closest.... that place is always full of wives seeking 'consolation' while their husbands are laying it on the line over there. Damn bitches," Garrett angrily spat out.
Caitlyn looked at her partner. It was bad enough more than half of all California murders never get solved, this was the third suspected 'judy bar' killing in the last month. Garrett wasn't too interested in solving the case and Caitlyn couldn't blame him... too much.
Garrett had caught his own wife cheating on him, ironically enough, during a prostitution raid. Caitlyn was willing to look the other way on that one but Garrett insisted she be treated no better than the other four arrested that night. By Caitlyn's count, Garrett's wife still had more than four years due to the amount of drugs seized. Quickly following the sentencing was the divorce and her felony conviction allowed him to walk away suffering only a broken heart... that never really healed.
No, Garrett wasn't all that interested in solving the case. If I was him, I probably wouldn't be, either. "We got all the pictures we need? CSI finished?"
Garrett nodded his head.
"Good," she said. "Let's get the body out of here and try and dry up. God, I hate this weather. God damn stupid rain..."
**********
Chapter 2 Everybody's Cheating, Rick Springfield
I'm finding it harder every day
to take it as it comes