Shermanville [FM][Long][Noir/detective]

Shermanville, and by extension the whole Braxton valley seemed like someone had cut out their favorite pages from a book on small town cliches, stapled them together and handed them to the city architect.

Agent Hawg steered his Silverado down the main road, painfully aware that his attempt of blending in had failed from the start. It was the Bureau’s idea of a reliable car for rural areas, but it was still expensive and worst of all clean and only three years old and so he stuck out like a sore thumb and turned heads on his way to the department.

Apart from that it seemed like a smart choice, he had come across enough backroads that came short of being called trails to realize that out here tractors were faster than super cars. Or a man with a chainsaw for that matter, the forest all around was so thick that most paths probably still had to be cleared.

According to the paperwork Shermanville had a population of close to 50 thousand, but that didn’t show in the town center where people still crossed the main road without checking for cars.

The department itself hardly seemed like it was the major employer around these parts either, but Hawg had definitely seen worse, smaller and lazier. Sure, it wasn’t Central in a big city, but it was still busy and Hawg could tell that these people worked for a living instead of rescuing cats and doing the shopping for old ladies.

“Can I help you?”, the man at the counter said and I wondered if by some miracle I no longer looked like a federal agent all of a sudden. Usually people pick me out of a crowd almost instantly, I am glad I didn’t sign up to the CIA because I would make a lousy spy trying to fit in.

Thankfull I was saved from answering by yet another small town cliche, the cop chick I can only describe as comfy. You know, not in a bad way, not lazy or anything but you could tell that she was made for this world, the way everything goes kind of slow seemed to align with her own speed of living which created this odd experience of a person at ease with herself. I’ve never understood that, always surrounded by people who seemed driven, hunted even but I’ve always had mad respect for people like her.

“You must be Agent Hawg, right?”

I smiled, turned towards her and all but forgot about the counter guy who hadn’t really left a lasting impression anyway. Holding out my hand I nodded, feeling the warmth, but also the calloused hands and strong handshake of someone used to working harder than their gender necesitated. I wondered whether she was a part-timer, doing cop work in her spare time when she wasn’t out in the fields but I couldn’t get a real read on her yet.

“I am, and you are?”

“Louise, or Officer Bradley but we’re all on first name basis around here if you don’t mind.”

I let myself be dragged in her wake, following the whiff of perfume that was so barely noticeable. “I don’t, I’m Jim.”

She paused for a moment, smiling about some joke in her head that didn’t reach the surface. I didn’t press either, enjoying the walk-around through a surprisingly large office and meeting fresh faces who fell into just about every category imaginable. There was the fresh faced kid who might have been old enough to drink already, he wore the gun and uniform as if it gave him a sense of stability for the first time in his life. There was Laura, a chick so full of demons they seemed to ooze from her eyes whenever she didn’t try to stab you with her gaze. Max, the kind of guy who became a cop because farming seemed like hard work, Lisa who exhausted her mental capabilities typing up reports.

But there were also some heavy hitters among the crowd, you know the people who look you in the eye and you can tell they pull their weight. Sure, they are a little in over their head, or else I wouldn’t be there in the first place but if I hadn’t come they would probably solve the case eventually anyway.

There was Baron, a guy so large and so beardy and the trucker hat and all that you just knew his hobby was cutting down trees and then splitting them until they were thin as matches – with enough wood in his garden to last him a lifetime. He was also a surprisingly quick thinker for someone who needed a family’s worth of food just to keep his body functioning, a smart brute if there has ever been one.

Bert, the Sheriff of the whole thing was another, grey in hair and beard but not in his mind or his eyes that had seen enough for several lifetimes and failed to break under that. Special forces, big city cop, soft retirement in a rural town and he would probably only leave the place when they carried him out feet first.

And lastly there was Seargent Gullible aka Garrett, another military dropout named that way because on the surface he was the kind of guy you just keep around so the others have something to laugh about. You could tell however that he enjoyed that as much as the rest – and if no one watched he buried himself into the work, found the missing link that was so desperately needed to break the case and I would later learn he had never stopped practicing his marksmanship, never lost the will to kill.

Good folks, together with Louise I felt in good company where I wouldn’t have to watch my back or tread lightly to avoid political issues. That became apparent when Bert called us into his office, sitting down on his table while everyone leaned against the walls drinking the coffee he offered. It was an interesting office, like he had taken it over from his predecessor who must have been a Vietnam vet with a knack for maritime history and decor, but it would eventually turn out that that was all him and he was just an anachronism on legs.

“Everyone, you’ve already met Jim Hawg, I don’t have to tell you he is here to support us in finding the killer. I don’t know anything about him, but he found his way out here all by himself so he must know something about detective work.”

Everyone chuckled, I nodded with a smile and set out to deliver my usual performance. “Thank you. Hi everyone, I’m Jim, used to play murder squad back in the city but eventually the FBI hired me to help out local PDs so here I am. I don’t bite, unless you’re a killer I can dig my fangs into and I’m not here to step on anyone’s foot.”

Baron made an unidentifiable motion with his right hand, his left nearly losing control over his coffee mug in the process. “You’ve done that speech before, I see. Well, we’re all glad you are here, our murder rate is like a handful a year, not a month and frankly half the time the murderer calls us to confess and so we can use some help clearing these cases.”

I smiled back, I’ve always liked people who could be honest about their own shortcomings and realized that it doesn’t make someone inferior if they are out of their comfort zone and someone else has to step in. Better than those tryhards who act as if they are good at everything.

“I hope I can deliver. First off, can you bring me up to speed, I’ve only glanced at the files so far on my way down so treat me as if I know nothing, right?”

“Louise?”, Bert said and I had to hide a smile over how startled she looked, almost standing at attention as she straightened her back.

“Sure”, she began and I could see the gears turning in her head and a slight smile appearing on her lips, “across the street is Steven’s bakery and coffee shop, if you tell him Louise sends you he might give you ten percent off on his already low prices and great quality cake.”

More chuckles all around. “Lou, I wasn’t talking about promoting your brother’s business.”

“good place to buy cake is all I’m saying”, Louise said with a smile and a shrug and I made a mental note to buy some cake for the team later that day.

“Seriously though”, she continued as the smiles subsided, “it’s been a tough month. Four dead people so far, no clear reason or connection between them but it’s apparent they were killed by the same person, rifle shots through the skull for each of them.”

“Expert shooter?”, I asked, directing my question at the only one in the room who seemed like he could answer the question the way I wanted, needed.

“Hard to say”, Bert shrugged, “sitting or standing targets so far, two behind glass but old single-pane that would not have diverted a bullet much. I would still say yes, those were all pretty clean but I’d say most hunters around here could easily take the shots.”

“Heck”, Garrett uttered, “’round here everyone grows up around rifles so don’t rule out the housewife or Lilly at the bar.”

“Lilly?”, I asked, thinking they had already settled on a possible suspect there, but Louise smiled and waved her hand.

“Never mind, Garrett’s been trying to get in her pants and he can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Hey, not fair.”

“You brought her up.”

“Anyway”, Baron brought the conversation back on track, “we believe these to be connected and purposeful because the victims are in a similar age bracket, all seniors but I really don’t see the connection between them so far. As far as we know they lived their lives about as far from one another as you can here in the valley, I mean they probably met every now and then buying groceries but different ends of town, different friends, little to no overlap.”

I tilted my head, old habit I’ve never managed to break when I was lost in thought.

“How old?”

“Like too old to cause anyone harm if you ask me”, Louise said and earned a nod of approval from everyone in the room.

“So, past events then, some kind of revenge?”

“Eh, we thought in the same direction but there’s nothing there, nothing we found at least. We went back as far as we could, we aren’t through the really old files that haven’t been digitized yet but that’s maybe a decade we’re missing and so far nothing. They worked different jobs, no arrests for anything but drunk driving on two of them and with two of them women I don’t really see them committing some kind of group rape or anything someone might take revenge for decades later. I mean it’s probably not impossible, I don’t want to rule anything out but I don’t see it.”

“Yeah, agreed”, I mused while my head spun through all the half-finished thoughts and possibilities. “But if there’s a connection our best hope is still in those files. I doubt we’ll find someone who knows the secret and after decades suddenly decides to tell us, not when we come with empty hands at least. Anything about their friends and families so far?”

“We talked to most who attended the funerals, asked whether they saw a reason and also tried to find anyone who looked afraid but nothing stuck out so far.”

“Would have been too easy. Louise, how about you help me carry some cake over here and then we start dusting off those old files?”

The fact that her brother owned the shop was a good excuse, but really I wanted to spend some time with her as any sane man would have wanted to. She had something about her that differentiated her a little from similiar chicks I had met, but for the moment I couldn’t quite place it. And if nothing else she seemed like a good cake carrier and so I decided to burn a month’s paycheck on cake for the guys. Well, maybe not quite as much but I was still happy that the government paid for it just like I would have hated to pay for the fuel it took to get out there in the first place.

“So”, I asked her, “you seem to know your way around. Grew up here?”

“That I did, never really left either. I guess I’m whatever you call the opposite of a world traveler, never much saw a reason to.”

It sounded defensive, but again her posture and the smile all told me that she was okay with that, too and content with the way she had lived her life so far. I found that fascinating, most people you know have either done too much or too little and there are always demons to keep them awake at night. Not her though.

“I can see why, it’s beautiful around here.”

“Not too backwards for you?”

I took a moment to answer, considering how I really felt about the place because I didn’t want to lie either. But then I shrugged and shook my head. “No, not really. I mean I spent many years in the city, but I grew up in the suburbs and always felt drawn to what little forest we had over there. It’s calm here, I could see myself retiring here but if I’m honest I’m not sure I could spend my working life here.”

“You are honest, I like that. But I like it here, it’s just enough people to keep things interesting, you’ll see. So what, you want me to give you a tour later on?”

I paused for a moment, wondering if there was a hidden undertone to her voice or not. Not that I would have minded, I just couldn’t get a read on her and for someone used to spending time in interview rooms that’s always annoying.

“Sure, I’d like that. Dinner on me, then?”

She smiled and did that thing between nod and shake that I would quickly grow to like about her.

“Uh, you better don’t, my husband gets stupidly envious over things like that. Sorry, I know it’s stupid, I appreciate the offer.”

Should have known, chick like her wouldn’t stay single past her mid-twenties. Nevermind, probably good.

“Oh, you have a husband?”

“Uh yeah, and most of the time he’s real charming but then he has these stupid moments where he yells at the guy fixing my car on the side of the road because it hurts his ego that he didn’t get there in time or wouldn’t have known what to do.”

I smiled, there was a certain ease to our conversation despite the awkwardness. “Huh, I know the type. Usually across the table in room three, moping about the moment their life turned sideways.”

Louise laughed, her elbow hitting my arm. “Come on, it’s not that bad. I mean it, don’t you dare worry about me, he’s one of the good guys. Just insecure at times, but I mean we all are sometimes, right?”

I also knew that type, the one that had grown used to their partner’s idotic and borderline abusive patterns, the ones that might be even worse because they make you change your own life without the other having to do anything. Sometimes those can get cute, like someone not wearing this or that dress even though it used to be their favorite but I thought I caught a slight glimpse of not-so-cute behind her cute and slightly embarrassed smile. Well, not my problem, not there and then anyway. She seemed like the kind of chick to hold her own and leave should she get too much of his bullshit.

“Okay”, I laughed, “no dinner then but I’d still appreciate the tour.”

“Sure thing, as long as you don’t tell anyone what I just told you. Don’t know why I did, to be honest.”

“Not a word.”

“Great, so then let’s dig into cake and files, shall we?”

That we did, all of us safe for Bert who did Sheriff stuff or maybe investigated the local whorehouse as far as I could tell.

The rest of us however got lost in the files, only pausing to read whenever someone thought they had found something remotely interesting but for a long time nothing came of it. Those dead seniors had been model citizens, never so much as missed a single month’s rent. Which made me all hot, you know when things look too good to be true they usually are. And whatever secret lay hidden there had to be good.

I must have hummed or something because Louise looked at me sideways and asked whether everything was okay.

I smiled the smile of someone caught in the act, there was no denying I was enjoying the hunt. So much, in fact, that only now did all the “see you tomorrow” reached not just my ear, but my brain and I realized that it was only us. It was late, I think must have been ten, maybe eleven already and now I vaguely remembered Louise calling to say she would work late. I hadn’t really noticed at the time because she had said my name and between two pages I had probably even responded with an noncommittal grunt, but only now it struck me as odd.

“Your husband”, I asked, “his name’s also Jim?”

She smiled, then fell into a giggle as she watched my mind return to the present at a much slower pace than it had gotten lost in the past.

“You got really lost there, you know that? It’s been hours since everyone left.”

My back hurt, so did my eyes and my mouth where I had pressed the pencil’s eraser side into for hours. I guess she was right.

“You didn’t stay here just because of me, did you?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself, I stayed for completely selfish reasons.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah, it’s not everyday I get to witness someone this determined, it was cute to watch you know?”

She smiled, made it sound like a quib and one of those open flirts that ensure distance in a place with a person that don’t lend themselves to actual flirting. But once more I noticed something else in her eyes, the way she could put up a front but there were deeper waters for anyone willing to take a dive – and I have always been a curious cat.

“You know, an attractive chick calling me cute when we’re all alone in an empty office at night, any other chick I would try to invite for drinks or dinner but we’ve been through that, ain’t we.”

I watched her eyes, saw how she failed to look down in time, how the cute and noncomittal grin came a little too late, a little too half-hearted.

“I don’t know, have we? I didn’t say anything about drinks, now did I?”

Well, shit, I remember thinking, that’s it. Why couldn’t she just stay a happily married wife, a fun to work with chick who was solidly clear of her own desires – desires that had nothing to do with me? I wanted her as much as I didn’t, that was a fine piece of ass for sure but it was just hours before that I had put all plans of flirting with her to pasture.

My struggle must have been visible in my face because once more she fell into a giggle, just now a committed one.

“Come on, it’s just drinks. Don’t get any ideas, I’m still married to Jim and not Jim so you have nothing to fear.”

I smiled back, nodding as I got up. “Well, if you say so I guess I could spring for a drink or two. Okay, so what’s your favorite bar?”

Louise shrugged, a mischievous smile crossing her face. “I think the guys like O’Malley’s a little down the road, but I rarely join them. Besides, I have something better for you, come.”

I was still wondering what she was up to by the time the door shut behind us, bottle and glasses clinged onto the table surface and she slid into the seat across from me. Now it was my turn to giggle, I like surprises.

“Do I need a lawyer?”, I asked with the same sheepish grin on my face that only the worst of the worst can display when they are pulled in for interrogation.

“I don’t know, do you?” It was the standard retort, I had been in that spot so many times like a chess player going through yet another opening sequence where not even pawns are kicked off the board. You try to get a read on the opponent, try to gauge whether they did what you think they did and then whether you can prove it or get them to slip up. Only usually the guys are stone-faced and the women fake crying or fake angry, nothing real ever happens until the moment they realize that they are done for. I live for that moment, a case won in court over available evidence will never be as satisfying as the moment when you yell at them “you did it you fuck” and they yell back “of course I did it” before each sink back into the seats and let out a long sigh of relief or horror.

I thought it was fun, in all my years before or since I have not met another cop chick who thought an interview room made for a good drinking game. And she was good, one of these people that could commit to a joke and then go the extra mile.

“This is officer Bradley, interview room one. The time is ten forty-five p.m. Sir, please state your name and profession for the record.”

Sure, I was down for that. Only thing hotter than chicks in uniform are chicks in uniform putting on that business tone in their voice and straightening their backs to ensure no one could possibly perceive them as weak – or worse even as a human being.

“Special agent Jim Hawg, Federal Bureau of Investigation, here on my own accord. Ask your questions.”

“Thank you for coming, agent Hawg. Can I offer you something to drink before we start?”

“Yes Ma’am, thank you.”

Well, this wasn’t going according to plan, in fact it was working far too well. Until that point it had funnily enough never dawned on me just how similar an interrogation room is to a bar, how eerily similar the questions are between interrogating suspects and getting to know a blind date. _What’s your name, who do you work for, are you the person I’ve been looking for. _

“Now, Jim, you don’t mind if I call you Jim, right?”

Good, creating a false sense of safety and comfort, but also making sure from the get go that you have the upper hand. She had read her interrogation manuals, understood them even. Without waiting for a response she continued, but not so quick that it would have seemed hurried or forced.

“I’ve looked at you these past few hours and it’s become clear that those old files are saying something to you that none of us could hear, what was that?”

Good again, go in hard with a direct question because no one is stupid enough to actually forget they are in police custody and in a cold, bright white interrogation room. The time for mind games comes later, for now it’s time to harness that early time when anyone, culprit or victim is doing their best to prove their innocence by being overly cooperative. Well, time to be cooperative, get the easy questions out of the way, focus on a safe topic like work.

“Well, just a hunch so far but you know what struck me as odd? Just how perfect their lives where, I mean sure a couple citations for bullshit little charges but heck, I work for the law and I have more standing against me in a third of the lifetime.”

“Oh, you do? Tell me about that.”

What a strange world where talking about your past misdeeds counts as safer than what your plans for the future are, so that’s how it feels to be on the other side of things. I had half a mind to divert the question, but then remembered that we were still in the full cooperation phase and that isn’t ever over before some serious slip happens. Might as well get it over with.

“Oh, you know, just the usual. I was young and stupid once, heck I’m still stupid now that I’m older. Drunk driving, a couple altercations with stupid fucks in bars that I could have solved better in retrospect. I shot a fellow officer who was in the process of raping a woman when we bust into his apartment. I pulled a guy out of his car once to chase a fleeing suspect, I…”

“Woah, hold on, walk me back for a second. You shot a cop?”

“Yeah, I mean he wasn’t much cop at that point anymore, but then he used to be. He pulled a gun on me, I was cleared of all wrongdoing, else I wouldn’t be here of course, but still. I couldn’t stay in central after that, even with everyone knowing it had been right who would partner up with me after that, trust me in their back with all those little secrets that every cop has?”

“Yeah, I can see that must have been hard. So you joined the FBI after that?”

“Yeah, my captain made that happen. Called it a promotion, even and for a hellish long week I was hailed the saint and savior, the end to police brutality in the state by the media until I could disappear again.”

“My condolences, that can’t have been easy. So you came to investigate murders for the FBI afterward?”

“Not directly, no. First I was in Quantico for a couple months of course, then after I was part of a task force hunting down a serial rapist to prove my worth. But after that, yes, I started helping out in local PDs across the country, wherever they need me I go.”

“Fascinating, but can we go back to what you found in those files for a moment?”

Damn, she was good. Sure, I had been enjoying myself and the cheap whiskey but she had still managed to make me forget that we had been talking about a completely different topic before. Couldn’t let that happen again, game or not.

“Sure”, I muttered as I collected my thoughts, “remember how I said they looked too clean, too perfect?”

“I do.”

“Well, I figured that I found that amiss, even if I didn’t really know why yet. See, the average American is deeply in debt, right, and these guys never once missed a payment on anything, their entire lives.”

“So what, for there to be an average there have to be people below and above that line.”

“Sure, sure, but it made me curious. You live here, just driving through once I already saw my fair share of people barely scraping by, battered old trucks, tin roof sheds, broken windows, clear signs of alcoholism and I bet you if I look around I can find you at least one conspiracy theorist who thinks the government is secretly undermined by giant lizards. And then you have these guys, they lived here all their lives, many years of living well and it just strikes you as odd, doesn’t it?”

“If you put it like that, sure.”

“Right, so I looked deeper into their finances. Nothing major, you guys would have spotted if they had ever caught a big windfall or I don’t know, bought a yacht or something but I got the slight impression that they had a bit too much money going around between them. Like clean houses, semi-modern cars, a lawn that the neighbor kids mow and I bet you they donated to the boy scouts’ fundraisers.”

“Funny you would mention that, that is precisely what Crowley’s son told us when we asked for possible enemies. Always bought the full box of cookies, he told us, everything they had remaining even once the kids got smart and swung by his house early into their run when they still had mostly everything.”i

“See, what I’m talking about. There’s money there, only how and where did they get it? As far as we know they worked lowly jobs, sure they had some stocks and bonds and whatnot but it’s not like they got rich off dividents either.”

“But then you found something, right? I noticed the way your back stiffened at some point, I wanted to ask but I also didn’t want to rip you out of your thoughts either.”

“Right”, I said pushing my glass forward, “but if you don’t mind, my throat’s a little dry.”

“Oh, sure”, she said and I could tell that my teasing her was driving her mad. Also that she had a heavy drinker’s stomach, her glass was twice as full as mine and it already had been the first time around. Also it only occurred to me now that she must have had that bottle in her drawer somewhere to be able to grab it that quickly – and there hadn’t been more than half left when we started.

“So I dug deeper, checked their tax returns, deductions to be precise. Turns out they all had similar, if not the same kind of work done, always in the same year. You know, house got a new paint job, Got new cars every couple years, always in the same time frame. Weird, right?”

“Definitely weird, I’ll give you that. So you figure they must have at least known each other?”

“Yeah, I think so. But it also makes me think they must have worked the same kind of job, lots of these things were purchases you make when you get a bonus, a raise or something right?”

“Only they worked in completely different fields and jobs, we checked that remember?”

“Yeah, and looking at their bank statements they also never got a raise or a bonus during their first ten years, only meager increases that hardly covered inflation. Makes me think we’re looking in the right direction, only the wrong places.”

“Like what?”

“I think we should check available government records for the time, I bet you we’ll find our connection there.”

We both leaned back, leaving out that relieved sigh of when realization kicks in. It was the only remaining option, it sounded well – until you thought of all the implications that came with a line of investigation like this. Government jobs, even then during the Cold War era would have been openly visible on their bank statements, it’s not like anyone earning American money on American soil would have had to hide their incomes. Unless… unless they were spies for the other side or worse even unless whatever they had done was so off the books that the government needed to put distance between it and them.

“Fuck me.”

It seemed like the right thing to say, but also the worst phrasing because it put both our minds back to where we had started, why we had really come into this room and begun our journey to empty that bottle. Everything had been an excuse, a slow but mutual seduction that we weren’t sure we wanted to follow up on – until work had gotten in the way.

“We need to follow up on that”, I said in a last attempt to get out of this room, away from her and all my conflicting emotions but she wasn’t having any of that.

“Yes”, she said with a tone that came closer to a whisper than a sentence, “tomorrow. The dead can wait.”

I turned the glass over in my hands, slowly and unsure how to respond to that. Now the table between us seemed like a long, long distance to walk around, but since she met me halfway it wasn’t impossible. We paused, now more than ever confused about what we wanted, how to voice it and if we really, truly were on the same page about everything in that moment.

I reached out, but instead of pulling her in I just bridged the gap between us and somehow we ended up staring into the big two-way mirror together.

“What do you see?”, Louise asked – and she didn’t pull back or do more than shiver as my hand crossed her spine before I slipped my fingers into the back pocket of her jeans. My actions, her actions finally confirmed that we had actually been talking sex all this time, something that I think neither of us had been sure of until that point but since none of us pulled back we were trapped in there, together.

“I don’t know, it’s like I can see both into the past and the future at the same time if that makes any sense.”

“It doesn’t”, she chuckled, “but it sounds deep and thoughtful.”

We giggled, still lost in our reflections.

“Well, miss smarty-pants, what do you see then?”

“Well”, she started, “it’s like I can see the present in this glass, like it’s within reach and yet somehow slipping through my fingers if that makes any sense.”

I let out a snorting chuckle, but finally let her slide into an embrace and for the blink of an eye we stood there, both facing the mirror as our reflections seemed to merge into one.

Resistance faded quickly, quicker even than our morals had and I got past the buttons of her uniform blouse quicker than a siren car blows through red lights on its way to the hospital to expose a set of near-perfect breasts. Not the poster-girl kind that’s quick to excite and quick to bore, but two of these mesmerizing things that seem to tell stories of their own. One slightly larger than the other, one slightly tilted upwards and both nipples harder than the floor we sank down upon.

I could see more now of that hidden layer that I had only sensed before, as with her eyes her whole body seemed to tell stories to anyone willing to listen, with a smoky, soothing voice that trailed away mid-sentence so the mind had to fill in the blanks. My fingers flicked through the pages of the first chapter, following the individual lines to their end and going back to the beginning whenever I failed to understand their meaning the first time around. We skipped certain paragraphs, hurried through others, one moment I reached the button of her pants and the next they were already dragged over her feet and my lips caressing the lips between her hips.

But whenever I wanted to play nice Louise put up a look somewhere between disappointment and impatience, a hunger that reached deep into her soul until finally I understood that slow and calm weren’t what she was looking for. Well, if we were on a race to the bottom anyway I was fully intent on crossing the line first, I don’t play to lose and only shoot to kill.

The first thrust came down on her like mana from heaven, I could almost see the cloud in her mind lifting for a split second as I pushed the air out of her lungs. Her arms were locked around me in an iron grip neither of us could have lifted, her head and shoulders rested on my hands and my elbows enjoying the same cold, hard ground as her backside. Locked in that grip neither of us could have moved or even so much as shifted, only her sharp breaths and my grunts there to illuminate the brightness.

Only my hips moved, each thrust a little too hard, too fast to keep my composure and far too soon I was fighting for my balance, unable to stop or even slow down. I came slowly enough that I knew it was happening and yet it happened so fast that I found myself unable to pull out or even so much as stop for a moment as my seed flowed into her. I didn’t stop then, either and just kept plunging into her long after I was done with a strength and dedication I did not know I possessed. Eventually Louise came, too but I wouldn’t know when or how and all I remember was the long, heartfelt giggle that erupted between us when we realized that there was no stopping us. I had strength left in me, now beyond the point where it might have been painful and together we rolled to the side, her leg over me to allow me the deep, slow thrusts the moment seemed to warrant.

Our eyes talked a lot, our lips too busy to take each other’s breath away and for a short, wonderful eternity it was just us and no worries about the outside world or whether we were supposed to do what we were doing. Eventually I came again, a hard and powerful orgasm that we both had to fight for and by the time we disconnected we were both so sore and exhausted that even the stupid grins on our faces were painful.

“That… was something alright”, Louise mused with a distant, dreamy look in her eyes. I said nothing, but between my eyes and my lips it must have been apparent that I was searching for words that wouldn’t sound awful.

“Any regrets?”, I finally mustered and the dreamy look in her eyes turned thoughtful.

“You know, I did this precisely for the regrets. From the moment you stepped into the door I knew it would happen eventually, thought we best get it over with and out of the way so we could focus on the investigation.”

I laughed. “You sure seemed determined.”

Her cheeks, smile and eyes all admitted to that, then brushed it out of the way. “I guess I was. And now I look at you and fail to hate myself for it. Fuck.”

“Well, for what it’s worth I don’t hate you for it either.”

“Well, thanks I guess.”

“So what’s the plan, I guess driving you home reeking of alcohol and sex won’t exactly please the other Jim, huh?”

“Nah, fuck this, he’s gonna flip anyway so we might as well stay here. Let’s shower up and see if we can’t prepare a couple requests for all that paperwork we have ahead of us.”

And that we did, even though it probably took us longer to get out of that shower than we spent on the paperwork before neither of us could keep our eyes open anymore.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/fqpjfm/shermanville_fmlongnoirdetective