Back Room Bonuses

CODE: D (set in the D Is For Damien storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): Both scenes: NA

PAIRING: Det. Dale Tiffen/Melanie Campeau (M/F)

EXPLANATION: Hm...okay. By now I can't really remember which scene came first--"Back Room Bonuses," or "May & December." I really think it was the latter, but I'm just not positive. Anyway, the first scene here was a very early one itself; so was the second. Maybe I'd gotten bored of pairing him up with an older woman and wanted him to see a younger woman too? In any event, all parties involved know about each other, and are all okay with it. There was even an unwritten (non-erotic) scenario involving Tiffen being hospitalized and Colleen and Melanie happen to cross paths while visiting him. They merely nod at each other. Gah.

DISCLAIMERS: As these are old some details may be off. I find Melanie annoying, BTW.

* * * * *

Back Room Bonuses

Whoever he was, he'd been sitting at the bar for over a half hour, reading--something. She couldn't think of anything that would be that interesting. In any case, he was a pretty good-looking guy, and she couldn't see any rings on his fingers. Just going over to check him out couldn't hurt. She got up, taking her drink with her, and went over to the bar, sitting down beside him. He glanced at her briefly as she did so, then back at what he was reading, as if waiting to be invited to look.

She cleared her throat and he glanced at her again, smiling politely. She smiled back and nodded and he returned to his reading, but she knew that she at least had his attention now, even if he wasn't going to show it. She knew some of the tricks they had too. She'd noted some interest.

"You know, you've been sitting here for the past half hour," she started out, at which he looked at her a third time, "and I kept thinking maybe you were waiting for somebody, but I guess not."

"No," he said, still with that polite smile.

"You come here often?"

"Whenever I get the chance." He gave half a shrug. "Work."

She picked up his cue that he was willing to carry on a conversation if she wanted to. "What do you do?"

"I'm a detective."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? PI or police?"

"Police. The city post."

"Wow," she said, sincerely meaning it. "I haven't met any cops before. What's your name?"

He finally held out his hand and let her shake it. "Dale Tiffen."

"Melanie Campeau. Nice meeting you."

He nodded; the way she interpreted it was, I'm not sure what you want. You'll have to be a little clearer. She considered herself pretty good at interpreting silent messages, even when the senders didn't even know they were sending them. He hadn't backed off yet, though, so she decided to press on. "You attached?" she asked; the way he was acting so far made it seem that he didn't care much for subtlety, so she decided to do away with it for now. He looked at her again, studying her face; they made eye contact and she didn't break it. That would have indicated a lack of real interest. He was the one who broke it, turning to his drink with another half-smile.

"Nope." He took a drink and asked, half gamely, "You?"

Melanie shook her head, grinning now. It was always good when they asked if you were attached or not. Even if they were only joking. She knew there was enough interest between the two of them; now it was up to her to see which way it went. She was glad that she'd picked him. After all, she'd never done it with a cop before. That had to be something new.

"Look," she said in a low voice, sidling up to him and making sure that he was the only one who could hear her. And she knew that he did, as he cocked his head to the side. "I know the guy who owns this place, he's a friend of mine; he lets me use the back room whenever I need to." A sly grin spread across her face. "I think I'll head back there right now." He didn't say anything, and she didn't expect him to; she got off of her stool and walked off toward the side hall and the closed room at the very end, not looking to see if he were following or not.

Just walk off. Don't ask him anything specific. Just see if he follows or not.

She knew the routine. If she'd offended him, then at least she'd be avoiding an embarrassing situation by walking away. Some guys were like that; they didn't like women coming on to them too much. If she hadn't offended him, then he should be showing up soon.

Even as she was unlocking and opening the door she noticed a figure appear at the end of the hallway, pausing momentarily before following her. The shadows gathering in the corners hid the smile on her face as she entered the room, turning on the light. She turned back to the door when he appeared, glancing inside as if in mild interest.

"Come in," she said, not hiding her smile this time.

He did so; she shut the door and immediately went at him, grasping his head and covering his mouth with hers, so abruptly that his back banged against the wall. She didn't give him a chance to get away; when he opened his mouth--to yell or kiss her back, she didn't know--her tongue darted inside, meeting his. He didn't make any sound so she decided that she hadn't offended him; she ran her hands down his neck, locking her fingers behind his nape, and brought her hips forward hard, bumping sharply into him. This time he did let out a noise, sounding at least a little startled; an instant later he was running his hands down her shoulders and back as well. Melanie broke away from his mouth with a giggle; he reached for her this time, his tongue probing, his lips sucking at hers. He was still backed up against the wall but made no move to get away or change his position. Melanie rather preferred it that way.

She could feel his hands on her sides; he pulled the bottom of her shirt loose from her jeans, running his hands up under it. She didn't want him to take off her shirt; they were technically still in a public place, and the removal of all clothing wouldn't be a good idea. However, she didn't need to worry as he never went for the buttons; he pulled down her bra and freed her breasts, still underneath her shirt, and her heart sped up as he fondled them, tracing circles with his fingertips and squeezing. They were full and round and soft; she sensed that this turned him on, as his kiss became more insistent, actually gently tugging on her lips between his teeth. Melanie bumped against him again; his hands fell to her hips, sliding inside her jeans and grasping her tightly in the back, pulling her to him. She giggled again, feeling his chest rising and falling rapidly, a hardness beginning to grow down against her crotch. Well, looks like I have him right where I want him.

She abruptly broke away from him again, dropping down to her knees and unzipping his pants before he could get a chance to back off. She didn't look up at him; she didn't want to see the look on his face. That could always ruin a moment if it wasn't the look she'd wanted to see. At least he didn't say anything in protest, though his breath was still coming fast. She carefully drew him out; he was, as she'd sensed, just beginning to grow hard. With another giggle she took him in her mouth; she heard him gasp above her, and felt him jerk slightly; almost immediately he was fully erect, hard and throbbing in her mouth. Smiling to herself, she pulled herself closer, caressing his hips as she sucked, moving forward and away, slowly and teasingly. She liked his reaction time. Some guys took forever to get excited; Tiffen was right on the mark. That was a definite bonus.

She continued sucking on him lightly, her lips moving up and down. After several moments he grasped her head in his hands, pulling her against him; if she'd been able she would have laughed. Instead she ran her hands up behind him, hearing his harsh pant just above her head as her fingers kneaded. Tiffen was moving now, too; when she came closer he'd push his hips forward, pulling her toward him, hard, literally thrusting into her mouth. Even with his hoarse breathing and the swollen throbbing between her lips she could sense his control. He wasn't wildly banging into her like he could be. Like she knew somewhere deep down he must want to. No, he was savoring it like she was. She laughed to herself again; that was a definite bonus, too. Aggressive and patient. You didn't run across that combination very often.

She sped up her motions; Tiffen pumped against her faster, still holding her head as if guiding her, filling her mouth with his heat. She finally chanced a look up at him; he'd tipped his head back against the wall, his eyes shut tight, gasping rapidly at the air. After another moment or two she felt his grip tighten; she froze as he strained against her, into her, feeling his expansion and release, spurting strong and warm deep in her throat. He shuddered and let out a breathless groan. Melanie waited for his pulsing hardness to die down, the flow of his fluid to wane; only when he loosed his grip on her head did she slowly pull herself away, releasing and grinning up at him. She stood.

Tiffen was leaning against the wall, using it as a support now; his eyes were still closed but his head had dropped forward and he was panting hard, trying to regain himself. Melanie stepped forward and put a finger under his chin, tipping his head up. He opened his eyes and they both stared at each other for a little while, his breath gradually slowing but his eyes still glazed from what had just happened.

She smiled at him and came even closer, running her hands up his back under his suit jacket. "Nice gun," she said when she felt his holster, just under his left arm; her smile grew truly dirty when her hands moved back down to his belt. She pulled out something that rattled and clanked.

"Handcuffs," she said, holding them up before his face and pretending to inspect them. She ran one finger up and down their silver curves, and met his eyes again. "I like handcuffs." A giggle.

He didn't say anything, just continued staring at her, his breathing still a little hard. Judging by his look, she couldn't tell if he were mad or not that she'd pulled them out; yet he still didn't protest, and she always took that as a good sign.

She backed away, taking hold of his collar and drawing him after her. He had to push himself away from the wall to comply. She stopped and kissed him; he opened his mouth immediately this time, accepting her. He again slid his hands up under her shirt to fondle and squeeze her breasts. It was what she was planning on, but she had to admit she was a little surprised that he initiated the act this time, reaching down--never breaking the kiss--and undoing her jeans in the front, tugging down on them almost impatiently. She squirmed out of them and let him caress her buttocks; he pulled her to him sharply, squeezing her hard. Against her breast she could feel his heart pounding. He wasn't hard yet but she could sense that he would be again soon.

Twice in a row. This guy is good.

She carefully steered him in a circle, not letting him know or suspect what she was doing until she saw the old rocking chair kept in the room behind him. Then she struck him in the chest, pushing him away so he fell over, landing in it. He managed only to glance up at her--whether in surprise or anything else, she wasn't sure--before she launched herself forward, pinning him down with her knees. She grabbed his right arm and then his left, and swiftly cuffed his wrists together behind his back, behind the chair, then leaning back and grinning at him almost triumphantly.

Tiffen tugged on his wrists one, two times, before looking back up at her. She could tell that he hadn't been expecting that.

Melanie moved closer again, cooing in his face. "Told you I like handcuffs," she purred, stroking his neck. He only stared at her. "And I like cops too. After you, that is. I've never been with a cop before. I suppose you have a lot to teach me." She pursed her lips, inches from his face, her fingers under his chin. The look in Tiffen's eyes changed; she wasn't sure if it had been surprise before, but now it most definitely wasn't. He gave her the faintest smile.

She pursed her lips again, chiding him with a shake of her finger. "You're a bad one, too. Bad cops really turn me on."

She kissed him again; he actually strained against the cuffs as if trying to reach her. She knew that he'd liked feeling her before, squeezing her breasts in his fingers; now he couldn't do that. The thought that he wanted to touch her so much as he was trying to break the cuffs off stimulated her. She pulled away from his mouth, reaching down and hooking her thumbs over the edge of her underwear. She grinned at him, kneeling in his lap.

"My turn," she cooed, giggling. She slowly pulled her underwear off, drawing them teasingly under his jaw before tossing them aside. His breathing had sped up again. She wondered just how many hangups he had. "What's the matter, you can't reach down yourself?" she asked, with a mock sorry face, the expression one might give a small child. "Oo, that's right, you can't use your hands right now. I can help you out," she purred, tracing her fingers down the line of his jaw, "if you really want me to."

He still didn't say anything, though his eyes told the whole story.

"Do you want me to, or not?" she prodded. She reached down and squeezed him so hard that he actually barked and jerked forward, drawing the cuffs tight. She drew her hand back; he winced and hissed through his teeth, very nearly writhing in pain.

"Oo," she said. "I think you do."

He didn't--and, she was sure, couldn't--say anything, so she brought her feet out from underneath her and over the sides of the chair, straddling his lap. She took his head in her hands and he opened his eyes again. Was that a slight indignant look she saw there, or no...?

"It's too bad you can't use your hands," she said with mock pity, still with that pout. "You won't be able to do anything--oh, wait a minute! I just thought of something." She reached for the top button of her shirt and undid it, slowly working her way down. To hell with it being a public building; she was already half naked, so nothing else could hurt by now.

When she reached the bottom she slowly, erotically pulled the shirt off of her shoulders, dropping it on the floor beside the chair. She still had her bra on, though it was pulled down around her waist; she removed that too. The whole time Tiffen watched her, his breath coming soft but fast through his teeth. Melanie moved closer and their eyes met again. She reached down and caressed him, her fingers cool. She pressed against him, swiveling her hips slowly. Again that familiar stirring, swelling beneath her. She smiled seductively.

"Do you like them?" she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. She cupped her breasts to show him. She could feel him straining at the cuffs, straining underneath her, hard and full and ready. Yes, she'd been right; he did like them.

"You can have them," she breathed, leaning forward, closer to him. Tiffen pulled himself forward sharply--she was sure that the handcuffs must have bitten painfully into his wrists--yet he ignored it, burrowing his face against her breasts, managing to take one in his mouth, sucking hungrily and almost desperately on its full, soft roundness. Melanie took in a breath. Tiffen murmured as he moved, growling softly deep in his throat, his tongue and teeth lightly scoring her as if he were devouring her. She felt her heart start thumping again and raised herself slightly--being careful not to pull away from him too much, as she was sure that he might still be thinking of ways to get even with her for that hard squeeze--then brought her hands down below herself and gripped him, not too tight this time. She positioned him and brought herself down, mounting him and feeling him penetrate deep inside. He growled again, a low, guttural sound, tugging at her nipple with his teeth. Melanie hitched in another breath and let it out in a short, almost silent giggle. It was good to feel him inside her like this; in her mouth had been good, but this was better. She was sure that he could satisfy her. Especially since she'd teased him so much already. He hadn't spent himself at all.

Taking a third breath, she took hold of him around the waist and started moving slowly, the chair leaning back and gradually forward as she went. Tiffen continued straining at the cuffs, purely out of instinct; she could feel his muscles tense, especially the muscles of his thighs, beneath her buttocks; his patience was wearing thin, she knew it, and there was nothing he could do about it now. She knew that he wanted to pull free, probably pin her down and take her; she laughed softly at his inability to do anything other than mouth her breasts. She wondered if his being powerless aroused him as it did her, or if she'd have any apologizing to do once they were done. He might as well have been gagged with how much he was talking.

Well, at least it certainly wasn't turning him off.

She moved faster. The chair started to rock now, propelling her forward, him back; yet when it did so he pulled on the cuffs, straining hard, trying to pump up into her. His motions were clumsy at first and made her laugh out loud; he even broke away from his sucking, which had grown so hard that her breast was turning red, and started hitching first one shoulder and then the other, as if trying to squirm free. His breathing was harsh and gasping and the look in his eyes was deadly. Melanie continued rocking into him, blowing a fake kiss at him and giving another false sorry look. He grinned back, his expression almost seeming to say, I've got you.

And just then she realized, Does he?

There was a sharp click. Immediately Tiffen's arms flew forward, the handcuffs dangling from one wrist, the key sticking out of the lock. Melanie let out a tiny shriek as he grabbed her, the chair sliding out from under them and both of them falling on the floor. He covered her mouth with his, squeezing her breasts hard but not hard enough to break the skin. During the whole motion not once did they break contact; the detective brought himself over her, and now he was the one controlling the movements. Melanie would have yelled in anger and irritation had the motion not sent thrills of pleasure through her. Tiffen had every opportunity now to simply take her as he wanted it; nevertheless, he stroked her sides, down to her hips, cupping her buttocks, pushing into her in a strong yet--surprisingly--gentle motion, not ramming harshly like he could have. Melanie took his head again, their tongues meeting and twisting around each other. His kiss was the most aggressive thing about him; his actual lovemaking was passionate, extremely so, but not hard or rough. Melanie liked this too.

This cop's loaded with bonuses!

Tiffen pumped against her faster, gathering speed, panting rapidly; his fingers dug into Melanie's buttocks and he pulled her to him, spreading her open wider, her thighs parted sharply with her knees bent upwards. He didn't let go of her as he moved. He didn't quit kissing her, either; she was pretty sure by now that he could simply kiss her to orgasm if she let him. And it would work both ways. With each strong, steady thrust his muscles strained against hers, as he had in the chair; he squeezed her hard, continuing to press her against him, as tightly and closely as he could, urging himself deeper and deeper inside. She could feel his thrusting hardness growing hotter, expanding even more, as well as the throbbing ache deep inside herself, growing tighter and tighter, Tiffen's now-urgent thrusts getting closer, closer--

Tiffen--or herself--or both of them--broke away, Melanie letting out a half-gasp, half-cry, Tiffen groaning again, deep pleasure coursing through both of them, she feeling his fluid spurt hot within her, he feeling it leaving him, his long-anticipated release. The tension died out of them and their muscles relaxed.

Then they both just about collapsed, gasping for breath, hot with sweat. Melanie lay on her back on the floor, panting. Tiffen stayed above her, still straddling her, his head hanging as it had before. She could tell that they were both exhausted. The detective maybe even more so because she had brought him to climax twice. The fast-reacting ones, they were always the best. When she started to stir he immediately lifted himself, moving aside and helping her sit up. Wow. That was something she hadn't expected. She glanced at him sideways and offered a sort of thank-you smile; his response was a smile almost as faint as the first one he'd given her on entering the room.

He just keeps doling out those bonuses.

He just about had to drag himself to his feet, but held out his hand and pulled her up when she took it. She rubbed her arms with a sudden chill. Tiffen even retrieved her clothes for her, latching her bra in the back and helping her with her shirt. As she buttoned it she glanced over at him again, still smiling.

"And they say chivalry is dead," she said, careful to keep an amount of sarcasm in her voice.

Tiffen just flashed her that dirty grin as he did up his pants.

Nobody Around

O'Cullen lifted his head when he heard the door open and close. He wanted to see who such a pretty young girl would be waiting for in a storeroom of all places. He dipped his head to peer through the chink in the wall. She was standing near an old unused desk; O'Cullen nearly started in surprise when he saw that the person entering was one of the detectives from downstairs. He wasn't sure of his name but he'd seen him around. He just wondered what he could be doing meeting this young thing up here.

As if to answer that the detective launched himself forward suddenly, grabbing the girl's arms and kissing her fiercely. O'Cullen did start this time. He thought the detective was intending to rape her until he noticed the way that she clasped him back. The reason finally occurred to him just why they were meeting back here.

The girl--more like young woman, O'Cullen corrected himself--pulled herself away, flashing a grin at the detective, who was panting. "You need something right now," she said. "I believe I've got it." She turned away from him, reaching up under her short frilly skirt and pulling down her underwear, kicking them off when they fell to her ankles. Then she leaned over the old desk, hitching up her skirt and baring herself.

O'Cullen's eyes goggled. Holy shit.

The detective stared at her only momentarily before reaching down and hurriedly unzipping his pants. He fumbled to draw himself out and O'Cullen could see clearly that he was already hard and erect. He moved toward the girl, who still lay half over the desk.

Oh my God. They're really going to do it.

The cop reached the girl, grabbing her buttocks so abruptly that she squealed and giggled. O'Cullen felt himself start--he glanced down in shock and noticed a bulge forming at his crotch. Embarrassed--though he knew that nobody could see him--he quickly grabbed his kerchief, undid his pants--he was further ashamed by how quickly he swelled outward--and wrapped the kerchief around himself. He peered back through the hole.

The detective was still squeezing the girl, hard from the looks of it; it seemed like he could easily get off just by doing that, judging by the glaze in his eyes. However, as O'Cullen watched, he moved up behind her, moving aside her feet with his own to spread her legs wider.

Oh my God--

The detective gripped the girl's buttocks, parting them, and pumped his hips forward, thrusting up into her. O'Cullen forced down a gasp, jamming a fist in his mouth. The detective let out a throaty groan--O'Cullen could barely make out the words, "Oh, yeah," muttered in deep pleasure--and pulled out. He pushed back in and groaned again.

"Talk to me, Detective," the girl panted.

The cop's breath was coming hard as well. "What do you want me to say?"

"I dunno. Oh--" She gasped as he thrust a third time. "Let me know what you think of me. There's nobody around."

O'Cullen felt guiltier.

"You mean how I think you feel good?" the cop said, pulling out. "How you're tight and juicy inside--" He pushed in with a full grunt.

The girl gasped and giggled again. "That's 'cause you're so hard inside me. Oh!" Her fingernails raked the desk.

"Only because you--mhmm--make me that way." He kneaded her buttocks, thrust deeply inside; as his hips jerked into her his head fell back and he gasped at the ceiling. "God, Melanie..."

O'Cullen suddenly realized that, each time the detective thrust upward, he was running his hand up, then down. He flushed with shame but couldn't help it. He had to keep watching. What harm could it come to if they never found out?

The girl whom the cop had called Melanie still lay bent over the desk, panting. The detective pushed himself in and then paused, bending over her, running his hands under her body to feel her breasts. She turned her head to look up at him.

"What're you doing?"

"Savoring you," he replied with a slow grin, squeezing. She giggled and threw back her head; he ran his tongue over her neck.

O'Cullen fought down a moan.

"C'mon, Detective," she giggled. He stood again, clutched her buttocks in his hands, and started rotating his hips in a circular motion.

"Oh, God!" the girl gasped, raking the desk.

O'Cullen swallowed hard, his hand moving faster.

The detective moved faster as well, gripping her tightly, letting out a short cry with each thrust. He was trying to talk to her but the lust thick in his voice made it difficult to do so. "Ah--ah--Mel-Melanie--mhmm," he ground inside deeply, shutting his eyes and grinding his teeth, "oh--oh God--mhm--oh--oh yeah--ah--aah, you're hot--inside--oh--" his fingers sank into her and his voice came out hard and strained "--that feels good--oh--God, that's good--yes--"

"Oh--please, Detective, please--" the girl gasped. O'Cullen, through the haze growing thick in his head, wasn't sure what she meant.

"Yeah," the detective breathed throatily. He leaned closer, panting harshly. "You want more, huh? Harder?" He plunged into her, grunting thickly; she cried out. "Deeper?" He pushed himself in, grasping her bare hips; even through his pants O'Cullen could see his muscles, his buttocks, straining, contracting tight against her. His hand kept moving, the breath fast in his throat.

The girl just moaned. "Please--oh, God, please--"

The cop started moving again, thrusting into her straight this time. O'Cullen's hand followed his increasingly quick motions. The detective gripped the girl's buttocks as they tightened and relaxed against him.

"Yeah," he whispered huskily, pushing at her faster, baring his teeth and squeezing, "you like that--yeah--you do--mhm--" a strained grunt, heavy panting "--yeah--you like that a lot--mmhh--you'll love this--what I'm going to give you--ah--" He threw back his head with a snarl, jerking hard, deep.

The girl moaned.

"Oh, yeah," the detective panted, plunging fast, hard and deep; O'Cullen's hand moved quickly up and down. "Oh yeah--God, that's good--oh yeah--yeah--ah--!"

He thrust upward, onto his toes, groaning loudly as he spent himself between her legs. The girl cried out. O'Cullen gasped and jerked, feeling wetness seep warmly through his kerchief. The detective collapsed panting over the girl and O'Cullen pulled away from the hole, feeling ashamed. He looked down where he was still holding himself, limp now, and actually felt a little sick. He couldn't believe that he'd watched a cop doing some girl in the storeroom and hadn't just seen the act through, but had done this with himself. He took the kerchief and threw it away, making sure to cover it thoroughly with other trash, before sitting back down and dropping his head into his hands. I really need a drink, he thought miserably. And a shower. He just sat there for a while.

After some time he heard a slight murmuring sound from the other room. He lifted his head, startled. Were they still in there? Unable to resist the urge, he peered through the chink again.

Yes, they were. And the cop was kissing the girl again. They were both standing now in the middle of the room; his pants were still undone, and as they kissed, running their hands all over each other, O'Cullen could see him hardening again.

Holy God! Again--?

That was what it looked like; yet he couldn't bring himself to believe it until the detective backed the girl up to the desk, hoisting her up to sit on it, then getting up to join her. He pulled at his belt and tugged at his pants, struggling to get them down.

O'Cullen couldn't believe it. Just how much did this guy have in him--?

Evidently a lot, judging by the trouble he was having removing his pants. His motions were almost frenzied. Finally he managed to get them down past his knees, bunching at the ankles along with his underwear; he must have been too impatient to try any further as he moved toward the girl. The short end of the desk faced O'Cullen, and she was lying on it with her feet in his direction, so he had a pretty good view as the detective yanked up her skirt to her waist. O'Cullen started, his eyes going wide. The detective parted her legs wide, pulled himself forward, gripped her hips, and plunged in deeply, arching his back, his buttocks contracting.

O'Cullen had to cover his mouth again.

This time the detective pushed at her hard and strong, almost fierce; yet O'Cullen could tell that she wasn't in pain--her cries meant something else entirely.

The detective grunted urgently with each thrust, growing faster and more frantic by the minute. O'Cullen could just about feel his desperation, his need; it was evident in how he arched his back, gripping her thighs as if to drive himself deeper. The girl gasped and cried out, long and ragged, shuddering underneath him. O'Cullen could tell that was her climax, but the cop kept moving, thrusting, plunging between her thighs. She gasped again, shifting and pressing against his buttocks with her feet, her legs wrapped around his waist. His grunting noises grew higher and more urgent. A moment later he plunged deeply, throwing back his head with a loud, ragged groan of intense pleasure and relief. O'Cullen wondered how nobody else could have heard it when he too gasped and jerked with surprise. He glanced down.

He'd been touching himself again. Sometime during their wanton lovemaking he'd curled his fingers around himself and started rubbing. Now when the detective had climaxed he had too, and had sprayed over his lap and onto the floor. He felt his own fluid warm on his legs.

He flushed bright red, guilt, shame, and embarrassment surging through him. He reached for a towel to clean the mess up, seeing through the hole the detective getting down off of the girl, helping her up, and pulling up his pants; after he'd done them up he located her underwear and helped straighten her out, the whole while the two of them murmuring to each other in low voices. He couldn't catch any of their words except when she turned back to the detective at the door, saying, "See you tonight," at which he nodded; O'Cullen pulled away from the hole for the last time and left for the restroom to clean himself up.

He changed in a bathroom stall, bunching his stained pants under his arm as he pushed open the door. The detective was at the sinks, washing his hands; he glanced up at O'Cullen, smiled and nodded, greeting him with a "Hi," as if nothing had happened; O'Cullen flushed red again and bobbed his head mutely, averting his eyes as he quickly left the room.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

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