Hollywood Forever

Detective Erica Vargas wore her gender like a uniform. She looked at the younger woman across the table. The faint gulp told as much as the perky yellow sweater with bright greek letters. Vargas's favorite tell was the makeup marred from a night in a cell. Detective Vargas judged the younger woman exhausted, in over her head, desperate, and tired.

"Sarah?" Detective Vargas said. "You've had quite a night haven't you?"

The late morning sun had begun its climb in the sky, though there was no window in this room. Detective Vargas liked it this time. No other officers bothered to watch interrogations at around 9:45am. The young woman silently nodded.

"Your boyfriend, Cory?" began Detective Vargas. "He's not telling us where he got the MDMA. Smart boy, Cory, right?"

"Yeah," said Sarah with a cautious breath.

"Says you're not involved."

"That's right. I didn't know he was selling shit," she added.

Detective Vargas liked it when captives lied to her.

"So you wouldn't know where he got it?" Detective Vargas added. "Because I think you do."

Sarah said nothing and looked away.

"You live on campus, right?" said Vargas.

"What do you care?"

"Just wondering if you went home for the summer," said Vargas. She flipped through a smartphone idly.

"Yeah, I sure did," said Sarah.

"No summer organic chemistry lab?" said Vargas stopping on a photo of Sarah's social media. It showed the young woman proudly smiling in a lab coat. Vargas held the phone like a poker hand. Sarah looked away again.

"Can't I just go home?" said Sarah.

"Yes," said Detective Vargas. "But what's with your storage unit though?"

Sarah looked at Vargas for a guilty second and then looked away. Next her sharp exhale and tightening of her lip made Vargas smile. Closing for the kill, Vargas stood at her height and looked down at Sarah. She only crossed her arms over her chest.

"Not sure what you need a storage unit for," said Vargas. "Since you didn't leave campus this summer."

She stepped around the table and stood next to Sarah.

"Should we search it?" smirked Vargas. "Find out more? Or should we let you go home?"

"I don't know anything," repeated Sarah. "I'm waiting for a lawyer."

"We can get you one, or you can go right now," said Detective Vargas. "I can let you go. I need something before you leave though." She placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder, massaging the tense cold muscles. Reacting in disbelief at Vargas' gentle fearlessness, Sarah only looked up in fright. Vargas brushed Sarah's disheveled hair aside and whispered into her ear.

"Give me a few nice licks," she said and then raked her tongue over Sarah's lobes.

"What the fuck?" Sarah said. "Who are you?"

"Your way out," cooed Detective Vargas, as she held Sarah's face. "The last gate to get through before your bad dream is over."

"Fuck you," Sarah stammered, her voice too tired and the night too long for her to be angry. "I want my lawyer."

Detective Vargas unbuckled her belt.

"Lawyers take time," she said. "If we're doing it that way, I'll search your storage unit."

She dropped her belt to the ground with a clatter.

"Your way out now? Isn't it so much easier?"

Sarah looked up and down Vargas's body, then her eyes rested on her pelvis. She rolled her lips.

"If I do this," she said. "We're done? I'm out of here?"

"My solemn promise."

Vargas shoved the interrogation table back, sat on its edge, and opened her legs. Sarah took a resigned breath and then handled Vargas's pants. A button and zipper came undone under Vargas's leer. Shifting her hips encouraged the cornered little suspect to hurried compliance. Sarah hefted down the jeans and the plain underwear. Vargas opened her knees and showed her trimmed pussy as the demanding beauty it was.

Sarah took one more look at the detective. That glossy dissociation in her eyes entertained Vargas. The looks of spite and surrender turned her on like no other. Her sex moistened and warmed. Sarah's first gentle pinches at the outer lips built a savory sensitivity. Vargas knew for certain then that Sarah had done this before. Then again, these college brats almost always had.

Sarah fondled the pussy and responded to the sighs and whispered commands. Vargas's clit was plucked by dainty fingers and then suckled by reluctant lips. The heavy smooth feeling delighted as much as the captive's reluctance. After all, a resentful finger penetrating her pleasured as well as lover's nails. A desperate tongue lavished as well as one from a seduced partner. Any emotion worked as an equally useful tool, though Vargas enjoyed using some more than others.

"Keep at it, bitch," she groaned. "Get that dirty tongue all over. Drink all my juices."

Sarah complied, her eyes closed and her gaping mouth covered so much of Vargas's pussy. The ravishing grew more hurried, more fierce, and more determined. Energy built up inside Vargas. She reached down and grabbed the back of Sarah's messy hair. Holding tight, she kicked her legs open wide and rubbed herself onto Sarah's face. Vargas exhaled in sharp huffs. A drug-like wave of pleasure enlivened her muscles. When the dizziness hit her head, Vargas laughed and let Sarah's hair go.

Sarah pulled away. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and glared up at Vargas. It was an expression Vargas knew and felt for one the moment: humiliation. One more suspect humiliated made Vargas feel as alive as when she chased suspects in alleys.

"You going to let me go now?" muttered Sarah.

"Oh yes, Sarah," she said. "Think we'll cross paths again?"

Sarah said nothing.

"Yeah whatever," said Vargas. "Don't get caught okay?"

It had been good for everyone and Vargas knew it. A boyfriend would get a good lawyer and probably plea out for a six month stint. The lawyer would get a nice paycheck. Sarah would probably move her little chemistry project somewhere else, or maybe dismantle it. She got herself a get out of jail free card from this whole fiasco. Detective Vargas had had her fun. She even collected cash from a colleague who bet that Sarah would insist on waiting for a lawyer. No lawyer talked better than Vargas and she proceeded on with her day buoyed on the victory from the morning.

Her less dull duties passed quickly too. She reexamined a double homicide from two nights ago. A body had been shot twice in the chest. It was a male. Blood pooled around it and the face looked up at the ceiling in rigor mortis. Some bystander, maybe another customer, took a bullet in the stomach as he had come out of the restroom. Blood in that case pooled around his side as if he napped. He closed his eyes before he died. Vargas wondered why some bodies closed their eyes before they died and others kept them open. Some things she would never know, but she knew -thanks to her morning victory- that she'd solve this case before Shales and Rosingar tried to one up her again.

It took only one letter to sink that mood.

"Vargas?" said Jarod. He was a handsome younger officer with nice biceps and bright brown eyes. Vargas loved a San Jose summer.

"Yes?"

"Letter for you," he said. He held a yellow envelope in his hand. "Looks personal."

Vargas held the letter and scanned it with her eyes for imperfections. Nothing from the glue to the stamp looked out of place. The return address was Los Angeles county.

"LA?" she said out loud. "Hey did this get cleared by security?"

"Of course," said Jarod. "Issue?"

"I don't know anyone in Los Angeles. This is a little random is all," smiled Vargas. "Thanks for the note. Got anything else to give me?"

"Maybe after the shift is up," Jarod said nodding back. "Got time to hit up Marshall's High Top bar?"

"That one? What about the dive called Spyder's? Heard your team arrested two perps there last week."

"Oh you looking for action, Detective?" said Jarod.

"Absolutely."

"Then I insist on Marshall's High Top," he said. Vargas considered biting back.

"Marshall's it is. I'm out of here at half past five."

"See you then."

She eyed Jarod and touched a pen to her lips. It got a reaction. She liked it. Maybe she'd tease him later, get his pants down sometime, take his dick into her mouth and take a bite. Yes, that's the great thing about getting those parts on the inside, one chomp down and its blood. Amazing how much people trust each other. Yet that officer only cracked a smile back. Vargas watched his thighs as he left.

With hands in white gloves, Vargas read the letter. Hand written? That was unusual. Who does that? She read lines and shivered. "Erica, I miss you so much," it began. "I hated how things ended, because I can't stop thinking about how good we were together in Silver Lake." Silver Lake? No this didn't make any sense. It sounded like Zoey. That's Zoey Howers the news podcaster until some years ago. Years before that, she was Erica Vargas's Silver Lake neighbor, frequent fuck buddy, and eventually lover. Things hadn't ended well. Erica Vargas slept with one of Zoey's exes and for some reason that made Zoey upset. Erica couldn't forget that, she had said that her fingers and mouth could please Zoey as well as any other. What was it Zoey had said right then after that? It was written in this letter, "You're more than a collection of parts, animated by cravings, Erica. I know that now. You could be so much more." No, this didn't make any sense. Who else could've known those exact words? Did someone get Zoey's journals? Did Zoey share that in a message? Maybe Zoey had shared it with a therapist. That would be most probable.

After all, this letter couldn't have been from Zoey. Zoey Howers had died three years ago.

No one makes a fool of Detective Vargas, and she would have a chat with whoever sent this. They were idiots to hand write it. That meant skin cells, patterns in the slopes of the pen, even the kind of paper might be a clue. Detective Vargas handed the letter to the forensics team who agreed to look at it.

That night, though, she watched a video of Zoey Howers on her phone. Zoey, god it had been several years since she'd spoken. Zoey had been the one of the few women to end things with Vargas before Vargas got bored, or maybe Vargas had been bored, but she wasn't bored of Zoey. No Zoey had all the attachment to Vargas as a dozen other casual lovers, yet somehow she banished Erica from her life. That burn to the ego ate at Detective Vargas, but she loved having Zoey around too. What's the deal with people and exclusivity? It's not like random partners tainted your body or something. Bodies were just that, things that could communicate and have affect on other people, like Zoey Howers was doing on her laptop screen right then. She had her mic between her and two student activists from UCLA discussing gentrification. Zoey and the students had taken part in a downtown Los Angeles tenant's strike and a march at city hall demanding expanded rent controls. It was one of the last podcasts Zoey Howers recorded. Less than two weeks later, Zoey danced at one of the clubs she and Vargas had attended, and was cut down in a blast of gunfire from a domestic terrorist. What was the name of the place? It was the Blue Bumble, Vargas remembered.

The shooter was chased into a blind alley, and Vargas enjoyed the body cam footage. Three officers shot him six times. It's quite a rush seeing police in action, or anyone really.

When Vargas returned to work the next day, the forensics team shared their conclusions. Not a trace of skin had been on the paper, which was common notebook paper that could have been purchased anywhere. The ink in the letter? From a 0.5 art pen, equally common.

"What about the hand writing?" Detective Vargas asked her colleague.

"We'd need some other samples to be sure," said the lab coated tech.

He turned his computer screen around and displayed the side by side samples for Vargas. It displayed a 92% likely match.

The social ritual of the date provided more than pretense for Vargas this time. The light drinks and the over priced tapas of Marshall's High Top bar provided a needed distraction. Furthermore, she had learned throughout the years that humans enjoyed the repetitions, and the chats, and the light laughter that came with a nice dinner. Still, when it came time to end the night she was happy to follow Jarod home.

Back there, Jarod clearly wanted Detective Vargas on her knees. She preferred him on his back. Through a feverish make out, they contended with each other. Each slight button undone and each bit of cloth removed displayed their strength and yet also their vulnerability. Only one would win. Pecks on his neck summoned moans of satisfaction. Vargas prevailed in that moment. Jarod fell to his bed and Vargas stripped more naked. Firm mounds of his muscle resisted her squeezing. She dug her nails into his pectorals until that handsome officer begged for mercy.

That's when Vargas rewarded him. She opened her mouth, and swallowed that rigid, prone, cock. A smooth tongue made the man hers, but a simple chomp and she could destroy him. Vargas had thought that many times with many partners. Once again, with this groaning sex toy at her mercy, and that salty hot dick in her mouth, she fantasized about blood exploding onto her face. Oh it would be so hot. This though, wouldn't be the time she could get away with it. Even more, her own blood pumped into her pelvis and the living sex toy in her mouth had so many uses.

Vargas straddled him. There, she aimed the cock up into her pussy. Riding him controlled his body until his face tightened, and his head rolled to the side. It was like watching him gasp, or choke, or die. That's why she enjoyed the top position so much. He came inside her too. People come when they're connected, and she liked the connection with him. Only then did she allow herself to be taken like a whore on all fours. Once positioned Jarod fucked her hard, and she fondled her own clit until she climaxed.

It electrified her body, and then filled a void she always forgot she had. Writhing in submission connected Erica to her fuck buddy and even to herself. So overwhelmed with pleasure, detective Vargas became more than a body and an ego. The orgasm from someone had touched her and she felt what he felt. Damn, that sensation of pride, pleasure, and a soul wreaked havoc on her nerves. She'd never wish to be seen like this, for reasons she never understood. She tended to fuck to dominate and orgasms like those gave her something beyond that. She craved the sublime experience of full and complete humanity.

As she cuddled with Jarod, that sensation faded as it always did. Vargas lost that strange inner state that humans have. She was a collection of fearless organic parts once again.

Erica Vargas's cell phone chirped at three in the morning. She rolled away from Jarod and gazed in to the spectral blue screen glow.

"Erica? Did you get my letter?"

Erica shivered. The text message came from, a bunch of random characters? It wasn't a number. It wasn't blocked. It was indecipherable. This stalker had gone out of the way to bother her. Vargas was up to the challenge.

"I don't know who this is, but it is literally my job to find people like you," she texted back. Turning the phone face down and ringer off let Vargas protect herself. She cuddled next to Jarod's warm body. The phone buzzed again.

"It's me, Zoey," the text message read. "I miss you. I want you. Come find me."

"You are going to REGRET IT when I find you," texted back Vargas with angry thumbs. "Zoey is dead. You're not her."

She shoved the phone away again. Jarod muttered something as she rolled next to him. A droning synth wave and metronomic bass hits emanated from her phone. A floaty feminine voice hypnotized in verses.

"Fuck!" grunted Vargas grabbing her phone. With sweaty palms, she fumbled to turn it off while the unforgettable song droned on.

"Vargas?" said Jarod sitting up. "What the hell? What is it?"

"It's 'Cursed'," snapped Vargas referring to the song's title.

"And...?"

"And nothing," panted Vargas. It was only a song. Only one of hundreds in Zoey's playlist. Any particular song could have been picked at any moment. It was only a coincidence that 'Cursed' played the first time Erica ate Zoey out. Sure, Zoey climaxed to the haunting beauty of this song, but that didn't make it special. It never had to be a special song. Vargas had the phone off at last, and would smash it if it bothered her again. She reached down to Jarod's dick and found it a dangling rope. It hardened for her.

"Got energy for another late night fuck?"

"Erica?"

"Just answer, yes, Jarod."

The following morning, Detective Erica Vargas looked across her chief's desk at a skeptical superior.

"A leave of absence?" he said.

"Only one week. That's all I need."

"Vargas, we had you on that double homicide because you asked for it. Now you want to leave. Why?" he said. "You wanted the laurels for solving this one. I put you on it because I thought you could."

"I think Shales and Rosingar can handle it now," she said, gulping because she hated to lose to them on this too. The chief crossed his arms.

"You're not handing this case over to your favorite colleagues," he said with clear sarcasm, "because the investigation of the scene was a dead end are you, Vargas? Want someone else's name on a cold case? Is that it?"

"Chief," she said sitting and feigning submission. "Let me be honest: this is personal. It's about the Blue Bumble okay?"

The chief nodded in a 'go on' sort of way.

"I had a friend that was one of the victims," she said. "It's been years since it happened. I can't say I've dealt with it."

That convinced him.

"I can't promise you'll be back on this case in a week," he said.

"I understand, sir."

"Alright then Vargas," he said. "I'll make the changes today. Take all the leave you need."

Erica Vargas drove five hours south to West Los Angeles where she found herself a boutique hotel. She visited the LAPD, flashed her badge, and asked for some department to department favors. Hardly any cops wanted to talk about the Blue Bumble shooting. Though when Erica played the role of a grieving detective on a mission, they opened up to her. She was promised access to crime scene photos, autopsy reports, and anything she'd need when she returned on Monday.

With little to fill her time Erica considered driving all the way out to Silver Lake, and maybe visit some of the places that she and Zoey visited. Though it wouldn't do much good there to prove that Zoey had in fact died, and maybe her anonymous harasser expected that. Instead, Zoey chose someplace public to scope out: the Blue Bumble itself. It was a Saturday evening, and the club was filled with reveling Hollywood hopefuls. All of them worked hard to stay beautiful, and Erica enjoyed the eye candy. She even enjoyed flirting with another woman, while she waited for other friends.

The Blue Bumble had a memorial at one of the booths. Pictures of the victims hung in frames, among them was Zoey. A short epitaph read "Activist. Journalist. Fur Mom." Vargas looked away at the empathetic, photogenic, smile, and distracted herself with the beautiful dancing bodies. There were no signs in this club of bullet fire or blood. It amazed Erica how much those things could get cleaned up. If it wasn't for those photos, no one would even have to remember. Maybe it was only a matter of time before the next lonely bigot opened fire on happy people. Zoey suddenly felt exposed without her gun, and kissed her unexpected date good night.

While Vargas slept, she heard the voice of Zoey. "Miss you..." Those soft words could not be mistaken. Erica ignored it. Yet it only persisted and called to her again. Vargas clicked out the lights and coiled her bedsheets tighter around her. Despite that, the hotel sheets slipped off her shoulders, exposing her arm and neck. The cool air touched her skin, and then it became warm. "Miss touching you..." Zoey's voice whispered. Vargas's night time tank top rolled up from her belly. Something hooked around her panty's waistline and tugged them down.