I realized after the fact that there was no sex scene in the last chapter. I'll see what I can do about getting one in this chapter. It's been tough sledding lately trying to find time to write. I apologize for the lengthy time between chapters. Hope you all like the story so far. As always, constructive criticism is accepted and encouraged. Abuse is not. Abusive comments will be deleted without prejudice. Enjoy!
Detective Joe Abramson lay naked on the double bed in the small apartment of his lover, Denise, the night dispatcher at the precinct. Denise laid further down the bed, her lover's stiff cock slurping in and out of her wet mouth. Abramson felt no guilt about lying in another woman's bed; his wife was most assuredly being screwed hard by her Latin lover at that very moment.
Don't ask, don't tell,
he thought, along with the old adage about the goose and the gander. But after twenty minutes of oral ministrations, Joe was no closer to release than when Denise first started. His mind was definitely elsewhere.
"Joe?" Denise spoke after slipping his hard dick from between her red painted lips. "Do you want me to keep going? I mean..." Her jaw had become sore and tired. She would keep going for him though. Although Denise knew that Joe would never leave his wife, she still had hopes that one day the two of them could be together and not hide their relationship.
"What?" Joe replied after Denise said his name again. "I'm sorry, Dee. That whole situation from last night really has me confounded. It's not you, honey." He could barely keep his mind on anything but what had happened the night before. What
did
happen last night? Was it a dream? Not hardly. Where did that fog come from? It was on him in an instant. Did Delevan and the girl know he was following them? So many questions with no answers...
"Joe?" Denise spoke his name once more, her hand still wrapped around his hard-on. "Joe, are you OK?"
Abramson finally snapped out of his funk and smiled at the beautiful woman with her face less than an inch from his stiff pecker. "I'm just fine, baby," he said as he slid down the bed and rolled Denise on to her knees. Positioning himself behind her, he plunged himself deep into her slickness and began to pound her wet snatch mercilessly.
Denise moaned with pleasure. This was the Joe Abramson she knew. Yes, fifteen years her senior, but he possessed the stamina of a man half his age. And for a man pushing fifty, he was in better shape than most of the guys her age, aside from a little male pattern baldness creeping in. Denise did not know about Joe's wife and the Central American gardener, nor would she have cared had she known. She planned to claim Joe as her own someday. She didn't know if he loved her, but she knew she loved him. And she would do whatever it took to make him love her.
"Oh, God, Joe!" Denise cried as she reached between her legs and rubbed her sensitive clit as her lover continued his assault on her moistening slit. She shuddered involuntarily as her orgasm crashed through her and waves of pure bliss rippled through her body. Her inner walls clamped around her lover's hard shaft and began to milk his member of his precious seed. Joe groaned once then let loose with his torrent.
The two collapsed on Denise's bed and caught their breath. As their respective orgasm's subsided, she looked at Joe and saw that his face had gone back to his contemplative look from before. Denise didn't want to ruin their post-coital glow, but she had to know what was going through his head.
"Joe?" she cautiously spoke as she placed a hand on his sweaty chest. "Are you OK? I know you're not the most forthright person when it comes to your feelings, but you seem even more pre-occupied than usual. Is it about what happened last night?"
"I don't want to..." Joe began to protest then changed his mind. "I just don't understand what happened out there tonight. That fog could not have rolled in that quickly. It was like..."
"Like what, Joe?" Denise asked.
"You're going to think I'm crazy," Joe replied hesitantly, "but it was like... it was supernatural or... magic..." He looked at her after he responded and saw a questioning look on her face. "I knew you wouldn't believe me."
"It's not that I don't believe you," Denise answered and placed her hand on his cheek for reassurance. "It just seems so... so far-fetched. No one else saw this 'fog' you reported, Joe. No one. And you know what the other guys at the precinct will say if you tell them about this."
"I know, Denise... I know..." was all Joe said. He knew what the others would say if word got out about his mysterious instant fog during his wild goose chase. Joe had no intention of telling anyone other than Denise about the previous night's pursuit.
"Let's just drop it for tonight, Denise and enjoy our time together, OK?" Joe said after a deep breath and exhale. "Ready for Round Two?" the veteran detective asked his lover with a sly grin.
"I don't know," Denise answered with a smile of her own. "Do you think you can keep up with me, old timer?" Her smile grew wider as the playful insult settled on Joe's face in surprise.
"Old Timer'?" he repeated her last words in a questioning manner. "I'll show you what us 'old timers' are all about, missy!" With that he leapt at Denise and surprised her by slamming his once-again hard cock deep into her waiting pussy. With a gasp and slight squeal, Denise vocalized her approval and dug her nails into the intrepid detective's back as the two made love until exhaustion overcame them both just before the clock struck three in the morning.
++++++++++
Dana tried to feign ignorance at Solomon's revelation of her supernatural heritage, "I don't know what you mean..."
"Come now, Dana," Solomon replied as he took another step toward her. "Don't play coy with me. I know you far too well. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Although you have probably never heard the story of how your grandmother used her powers to save Ras. And to ultimately forge a sort-of peace treaty between our two communities. It is funny, really. The humans were so scared of the Bomb back then. They had no idea how close they came to true destruction by our warring clans."
"How long have you known?" Dana asked, giving up her charade of unawareness.
"I suspected the first night we met," he responded as he turned to refill his tumbler with amber alcohol. "You were able to refuse our... advances. Both Elizabeth's and mine. No one does that without having some kind of unearthly help. Some humans have that sixth sense, or whatever you would like to call it, but power like that, like yours, can only come from a few places. The place where I come from is one of them, but you certainly aren't one of us, are you?"
"How did you figure out that the old woman and I were related?" Dana questioned her one-time lover and benefactor.
"I can add, my dear," he replied. "I simply put two and two together. But she was the real telling factor."
"How is that possible?" Dana wondered aloud. "I wasn't even born when..."
"But I
was
there, Dana." Solomon interrupted her ponder. "And I was there when the tentative peace between our two peoples was established. A peace that has gone on for some sixty odd years. But a peace that, I'm afraid to say, is in danger of going away soon, unless you and I can figure out a way to keep it."
++++++++++
May 3, 1957, 12:13am
The wooded area behind the stone castle where Solomon and Elizabeth had lived for nearly fifty years extended back farther than any human realized. The stone wall to the north was an illusion created by the night-dwelling inhabitants of the property. Solomon, carrying a medium-sized paper sack, walked through the hologram, and continued on through the unseen forest just after midnight, the pitch blackness of the night no hindrance to his wolf-like eyes.
He came to a clearing in the forest and stopped. Reaching into the bag, Solomon produced a blue cylindrical container of iodized salt. Solomon walked twelve paces from the approximate center of the open area then proceeded to walk in a circle, pouring the grainy substance as he strode, and encompassing himself inside the sodium-laced shape. With the remainder of the salt, he then drew a crude pentagram in the center of the circle. Tossing the container aside, Solomon lowly spoke ancient words in his wife's native tongue:
"V Yiyi im'ya ya klychu tebe!" (In Her name, I summon thee!)
As his words resonated through the forest, the wind suddenly picked up and shook the budding branches of the trees surrounding the clearing. From the north, a slight glow began to radiate through the woods until its brightness rivaled that of the sun that Solomon had not seen in hundreds of years. Just as his night-trained eyes nearly burst from the brightness, a small hunched-over figure came into Solomon's focus through the aura and slowly made its way to the opposite side of the five-pointed star where he stood.
The figure was an old woman, clad in a yellow blouse and red skirt that traced the dirt on the ground and nearly covered her scuffed black boots. A turquoise scarf covered what wispy white hair she had left on her head and wire glasses, lenses as thick as pop bottle bottoms, sat on the bridge of her nose. A warped walking stick, crooked as a politician's spine, helped her stand and traverse the clearing. She stood studying her caller for what seemed like hours, the wind swirling around the two as if a tornado had touched down. She then spoke in the same language as she was summoned:
"Stvorinnya," (Creature),
she spoke in a voice that had seemingly spoke first at the dawn of time,
"Chomu ty vyklykav mene?" (Why hast thou summoned me?)
"Madame," Solomon spoke in English, quite sure the old crone could comprehend, "I need your help. One of my... lieutenants has been gravely wounded and I believe that you may be the only one that can save him."
"I am Dorothea. What you ask," the withered female replied in thickly accented English, "goes against all that both of our populations have rivaled for centuries. Why would you come to me?"
"Because, Madame," Solomon answered as he took a step forward through the swirling mass of leaves whipped about by the circling gales, "I owe him my very existence. And I would like to put an end to our mutual aggression among our peoples. Our coming together would be a first step toward peace."
"If I were to help you," Dorothea responded, "I would need something a little more... tangible."
"Tangible?" Solomon asked with a puzzled look on his face.
Reverting back to the old language, the decrepit figure smiled then clarified her query through craggy teeth:
"Shcho tse dlya mene?!" (What's in it for me?!)
++++++++++
As the winds died down, the unlikely new pair walked back through the woods in silence toward the palatial home. Solomon second-guessed himself twice during the walk back to his house but in the end decided that he must go through with this, no matter what the cost. Ras had saved his life and he owed him the debt. They reached the front door and Solomon held it open for the crone, her bent makeshift cane loudly tapping the marble floor as she hobbled. Upon hearing the strange noise, Elizabeth hurried to the front room. There she saw the face of the enemy of which her people were sworn to destroy. She immediately took a defensive stand and her eyes flashed red as her fangs grew to length.
