While driving to the only hotel that existed in Sandy, Hank thought about his conversation with Sarah. All the questions that he didn't ask her. The fact that her charms had actually worked on him, had distracted him from the task at hand. It frustrated him, and he was mad at himself for being so weak.
Hank punched the steering wheel. "Dammit," he said to himself.
Trainer noticed, even though Hank had ignored him the entire drive. "What now, Henry?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Call your wife yet?" Hank said, changing the subject.
"Yea, she'll pick me up at the hotel," Trainer said. He and his wife lived about 30 minutes away, in Oregon City. No reason to stay in a hotel in Sandy.
"Good," Hank said, happy to finally be rid of Trainer for a while. Hank lived in Keizer, which was just north of Salem, where their office was. Keizer was a good hour or longer drive from Sandy, depending on the traffic.
Hank could have just gone home for the evening, but he wanted to get back with Miss Darcy and get some answers to his unanswered questions.
"Gonna fuck her, aren't ya Henry?" Trainer asked, with a smirk as they pulled up to the hotel.
"Shut up Jack," Hank said. "Of course I'm gonna fuck her." He said it with a laugh, and a sarcastic tone. He had no intention to fuck Miss Darcy. In fact, he had a nagging suspicion that she may turn out to be a suspect.
Hank parked the car, and went to the front desk of the hotel to get a room for the night. Trainer took a seat in one of the recliners by the fire in the lobby, waiting for his wife to arrive.
When Hank got to his room, he sat down at the table by the window, and got out his notebook. He didn't want to get distracted by Miss Darcy again, so he wrote out the questions he had for her. He felt that one of the questions that he thought of was essential to the case, and he wanted to make sure that he got the correct answer, be it from her or elsewhere.
He took out his cell phone and called an associate he had at the Salem State Police office. "Hey Drake," he said, as Drake answered on the other end. "Yea yea, I know it's almost ten o'clock. Like you ever sleep. Listen, I need to know if this witness I've got here in Sandy is the recipient of her ex's life insurance policy. No, I don't even know if he had a life insurance policy. I just need to know if Miss Darcy is the recipient."
Hank put his head in his hands, as he listened to Drake on the other end of the line. Drake was not the usual tech support guy. He was a tech guy who didn't ask any questions, and always gave the right answers. Only problem with Drake, was that he was a miserable sun of a bitch, and loved to make whoever called him pay for his services by listening to Drake's endless tirade of bullshit.
Hank's head pounded as Drake went on and on about the NSA and Wikileaks and Miley Cyrus and how the particular strain of weed he was on just didn't cut it man...
Finally, Hank had enough. "Drake. Drake! Can you do it? What? Yea, his name is Stephen Wankelbottom. Yea, I know. You'll never guess the names of his kids. Iris and Sunshine. Yea, laugh it up pothead. Yea, Darcy is a much nicer name," Hank went on, giving Drake Mr. Wankelbottom's social security number, and other details that would help, until he had conformation that the job would be done.
Finally, Hank hung up. He sighed. Fucking Drake. Always a chore to deal with that guy, but at least he gave results.
Hank sat back on the bed and flipped through some channels on the tv, as he waited for Drake to get back to him. There was plenty of work to be done, but a lot of it hinged on the answer he was waiting for. Not much point working a case, if one essential piece of the puzzle was still missing.
A few minutes passed, and Hank's phone finally rang. "Drake? What? Seriously? Alright man. Thanks for the info. Don't eat too many Cheetos now. Yes you can, Drake. You can totally eat too many Cheetos. I've seen it happen. Okay. Later."
Hank went back to the desk, in his hotel room. He flipped through his notes some more, made some new notations, then dialed Miss Darcy's number.
"Detective Miller?" she answered.
"Yes, hi Miss Darcy. Just have a few more questions, if you don't mind. Hope it's not too late."
"No, no. Not at all. And what did I tell you, Detective? Call me Sarah, please," she said, with some thick flirting in her voice.
"Oh sure," Hank said, trying to be aware of the flirt and ignore it the best he could. "Sorry. I was just curious why you and your daughters weren't very shook up by the death of your ex. Why is that?"
"Well..." she started. "He was a bit of an idiot, you see. I only stayed with him for the kids. Hell, we only got married because I got pregnant. But, I could only take it for so long. Divorced a couple years back."
"Right. I mean, I have that info right here in the file. It's public knowledge. But, he's still a guy you slept with for years. You were intimate. I assume you at least liked him at some point. How can you just not care at all that he was dragged up Highway 26 until his flesh tore from his bones and only left a mangled pile of hamburger behind? I don't care if you hated the guy, it should at least strike a nerve. And, what about your daughters? They act like they're twelve years old, and yet their father being killed in such a gruesome way doesn't phase them at all. Can you explain that?" Hank could feel his frustration taking control.
"Yes, Hank. I did like him. I even loved him for a while. I don't know why... He was funny, I guess. Funny, until I realised that he wasn't acting stupid. He was just plain stupid. And the world is a better place, without him in it," she said, as a matter of fact.
"Very cold," Hank said.
"Not really. Not if you knew the man. Hey, do you want to come over? You sound frustrated, and the kids are over at my mom's place for the night. I have bourbon and wine. You can ask me some more questions, and we can get drunk on the couch. What do you say?" she asked, with her evil smile oozing through the line.
"Well..." Hank said, not quite sure if he should put himself in such a situation. On the other hand, he thought, maybe if he got her drunk, he would finally get the truth out of her. "I'll be right over," he finally said.
When Hank arrived at Miss Darcy's house, it was quarter after eleven. He parked the car on the dark street in front of her house and just sat there for a while. He took out his notebook and went over the questions he wanted to ask.
He looked at himself in the rear-view mirror. "No distractions," he told himself as he brushed his hand over his stubbled face and straightened his collar. He was wearing the same dark blue suit as he wore earlier, just without the tie.
Miss darcy opened the front door to her house and stood in the doorway, wearing a sleek black fuck-me dress and holding a bottle of wine.
Hank looked up at himself in the rear-view again. "Shit," he said, as he thought about trying to concentrate on his questions while she was wearing that fuck-me dress. Finally, he got out of the car and started walking up to the woman in black.
"Nice evening, detective," she said as he walked up to her doorway.
"I guess, if you like cold and damp," he said.
"I thought you'd like it damp," she said, with an evil grin. "Come on in. Make yourself comfortable."
Here we go, thought Hank. "Please," he said. "I'd really like to get to some questions that I forgot to ask last time I was here."
"Of course," she said as she sat down on the couch. Hank was still standing in the living room, not sure if he should sit before finishing his questions.
"Okay," he started.
"Please, Hank. Have a seat," she told him as she patted the cushion next to her on the couch.
"I'd rather stand," he said, as he got out his notebook. "Last time I was here, I forgot to ask you where you were, the night your ex was murdered. It was last monday, the eighteenth of January. Between seven and ten p.m.. Do you remember where you were, or what you were doing?"
"Why do you ask?" she asked, looking kind of confused.
"Oh, it's just standard stuff. Don't worry about it, just procedure. So, do you recall?" he asked, leading her.
"I don't think that's standard at all," she said as she pored herself a glass of wine. "Would you like a glass, Hank?"
"Not quite yet, Miss Darcy. Just humor me, will you please? Where were you that evening?"
"You never do learn, do you detective. Call me Sarah," she said, with a sigh. "I was home, as usual. The girls were with my ex, so I was home alone. Watching tv. What do you want from me? I'm not a suspect, am I?" she said, a little frustrated. She had expected to have Hank in the palm of her hand by now.
Hank noticed. He sat down on the couch next to her. "Oh, no. Nothing like that," he said, putting his hand on her bare thigh.
"Good," she said, smiling. "Had me worried there for a second." She pored a glass of wine for Hank and handed it to him.
"Thank you," he said as he took the glass. He knew he had to go along with the social bullshit if he wanted to get any real answers from the fuck-me black dress.
"You know," he started with a smile. "I never really got a good answer from you, about why you and your girls haven't shown any remorse for your dead ex-husband."
She smacked him across the chest and laughed. "I told you! He was retarded, I swear. You never met the man. You don't know what he was like. Just trust me, it's much better here without him."
"Fine," Hank said with a smile. "One less retard in the world, I guess," he said with a laugh as he looked down at his notes.
"Where did you grow up, Hank?" she asked.
Hank took a small sip of his wine and answered as short and sweet as he could. "I grew up in Keizer. Just north of Salem. So, did your ex-husband have a life insurance policy, by chance?" The question came out as awkward as it sounds.
"You just cannot let this go, can you? Like a dog with a bone," she said, with a smirk.
"Yup," he said. "I figured, if I wanted to get any answers out of you, I should probably ask you while we're both clothed."
She laughed. "Now, that doesn't make any sense at all. Everyone knows, you only get the truth after a little alcohol and a blow job."
"Tell you what," he said. "I'll down this glass of wine. You down yours," he said, as he drank down all of his glass.
Sarah held her glass to her lips. "And then...?"
"Just answer this last question, and we'll get down to some real dirty business." He said it with an evil grin, as he put his hand on her shoulder and caressed down to her elbow.
"You sir," she said. "Have a deal." And she downed her glass of wine. She sat there, facing him on the couch. Like a spider with something caught in its web.
"This is it," he said, sliding his hand up her thigh. "The insurance. Did he have a policy, and were you the recipient?" he asked in the sexiest voice he could muster, which wasn't much.
"You sure have a weird way of talking dirty, Hank. But, no. No life insurance that I know of. Now, lets get down to the dirty bits," she said, as they kissed frantically.
The little black fuck-me dress was the first thing to go, Hank pulled it up and over her head as fast as humanly possible. She had black panties and bra underneath. He left them in place for a while, as he kissed her navel, up to her breasts.
Sarah arched her back, tossing her head back and moaning as he kissed and stroked her body. "Yessss..." she hissed as Hank discovered every inch of her with his lips and tongue.
He came back up to her mouth and kissed her deeply as he fingered her moist mound beneath her panties. Sarah moaned as he kissed her and she grabbed for the bulge that was growing in his pants.
She tossed off his suit jacket and tore open his dress shirt. Some buttons from his shirt flew off and bounced off one of the wine glasses on the coffee table, making a ting noise. They both laughed for a fraction of a second, then got back to business.
Hank was nearly on top of her, on the couch. Sarah took control and tossed him back, straddling him. "You're mine now," she said, with an evil grin.
"You say that like I'm resisting," Hank said, with a smile as Sarah unbuckled his belt and fondled his gun.
"I can't believe you brought your gun," she said.
"Hey, ma'am! This here's official police business!" he said, with his worst southern accent.
They both laughed, as she tore his pants down, leaving the gun holstered, still on his belt. She straddled him again, grinding on the firmness under his boxers.
Hank took the hint and grabbed her hips, sliding his hands down her thighs, and taking her black panties down along the way. Sarah unhooked her bra and pressed her large breasts into Hank's face. She moaned, and kissed his bare hairy chest, nibbling down to his waist line. She got down on her knees, in front of him and pulled down his boxers slowly. She watched as his bulge bobbed its way out the top.
It was huge, and she was impressed. "Oh my," she said, mouth agape. She took hold of his member and totally forgot there was a man attached to it. She admired it. Hungered for it. Licked her palm and stroked it a bit.
Then, she finally took it in her mouth. Hank let a sigh of relief escape him, as the anticipation was killing him. He hated being toyed with.
She felt the head of his cock knock on the back of her throat. It was big enough, and long enough, that she couldn't breathe at all when she took it all in.
She gagged a bit, and Hank smiled. Yea, choke on it, he thought. It made him horny as hell and he could barely hold back his orgasm.
She choked a bit more, and tears came to her eyes. It was a beautiful sight, and Hank was ready to explode. He couldn't take it any more. "If we don't fuck soon, I'm gonna explode all over your face," he finally said.
She let his cock out of her mouth just long enough to say "Do it. I love hot cum on my face."
With that, he yanked her up, onto a straddling position over his cock, and thrust it deep into her wet snatch. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, as he filled her. She knew it was big, but she didn't expect to feel so full and she could already feel her climax building.
She wrapped her hands around Hank's head and humped like mad on his cock. He held her, his hands wrapped around her back, down to her waist. Grabbing her firm ass, he helped her thrust. Her large breasts smacked his face as she humped.
Hank felt her pussy getting tighter and tighter, as her climax started, and he came hard. Sarah came as well, soon after. They both rocked back and forth, covered in sweat, draining what was left of their orgasm.
"Goddammit, that was good," Hank said. "I needed that."
"You and me both, honey," Sarah said, wearing an ear-to-ear smile.
"Please tell me you don't really love hot cum on your face," Hank said, with a chuckle.
"Are you kidding? I fucking love hot cum on my face!" she said, and they both laughed, collapsing together on the couch.
They drank some more, and fucked some more, and finally got some sleep after three a.m..
Hank woke up groggy, around seven a.m.. He noticed that Sarah wasn't in the bed, but didn't think much of it. As he wandered off to the bathroom, he noticed Sarah in the living room, sitting on the couch. Reading his notes. Near his gun.
Shit, he thought. Fuck. Goddammit.
Sarah noticed him in the hallway. She got up from the couch, turned around to face Hank, and leveled his gun at him. "I read your notes, you asshole."
"Yea?" said hank, inching a few steps closer. Looking at his Glock in her hand. Trying to see the safety switch on the side of the gun.
"Yea! Why'd you ask me all that bullshit about Stephen? About his life insurance. Why'd you ask me all that shit, when it's all here in your notes. You already knew!"
"Yup," he said. Two more steps.
"So, you just wanted a quick fuck, before you arrested me? What the fuck? You asshole!" she screamed at him, clearly flustered.
"Well, see..." he started, still inching closer to the couch. "I didn't really know. I had my suspicions. I knew that he had the policy, and I knew that you were the recipient. I didn't know that you were the killer, or that you paid someone to kill him. I'm pretty sure I have my answer now though."
"Yea, you shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up. And don't come any closer. I'm gonna fucking shoot you," she waved his gun at him, her whole body shaking.
"Sarah..." he said. "Just give me the gun. You're not gonna shoot me. Come on..."
"Shut the fuck up, I said!"
Hank remembered something his friends always told him. Something that never quite suck with him. Never stick your dick in crazy.
He kept walking towards her, slowly. She kept waving his Glock at him, getting crazier by the minute.
"Stop!" she yelled. "I'm gonna shoot. Stop walking. Goddammit, stop it. Stop..." she went on, crying.
Hank simply walked right up to her, and took his gun from her. "I'll tell them," she said, as she banged on his chest with her fists. "I'll tell them that you just came here and fucked me. No! I'll tell them that you came here and raped me! You raped me, and I took your gun." She was still crying, trying anything to avoid going to jail.
"Yea, you do that," Hank said, holding her flailing forearms. "You tell them whatever you want. I don't really care," he said, and he slapped the cuffs on her.
She continued to cry, as Hank got dressed. It didn't bother him much, because he still couldn't get the image out of his head, of his cum splattered all over her face.
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DISCLAIMER: This is fiction, you fucking idiots. It's just a goddamn story.
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