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This is a work of fiction and any resemblance by any character or situation to any actual person or event is purely coincidental. All characters presented in this narrative are over the age of 18.</p>
Chapter Seven
Kim dominated my mind over the course of the week since the Farley Houton was arrested in her back yard and teams of federal and state forensic crime scene investigators took hidden spy cameras from her property. But, unaccountably to my reckoning, I scarcely laid eyes on her during that time.
Most days she was gone before I awoke. Some mornings,, the sound of her Lexus starting and driving away would wake me before seven. And when she came home, usually after dark, she would head directly inside and not venture outdoors at all -- not for a glass of wine, not for a hot-tub soak, not to relax in her hammock. Nothing.
I had begun to despair that I had alienated her in some way, and that worried me tremendously. I had developed a genuine affection and protectiveness for her. I had promised her I was a refuge where she could turn, and I was surprised that she didn't more aggressively take me up on it.
It was a Tuesday, eight days after the day her world turned upside down, that I woke to see her car still parked in her driveway after eight o'clock. I figured it was a long-overdue day off, and I had planned to walk over with a carafe of coffee, ring her doorbell and see how she was doing. But before the coffee finished brewing, an official-looking SUV pulled to the curb in front of her house and a smartly dressed man and woman walked to her front door and entered. They were there for about an hour before they left.
Minutes afterward, my doorbell rang and there stood Kim. She looked like she was headed for a job interview -- conservative dress, hair neatly coiffed, new makeup and lipstick. She looked even more classically businesslike with a copy of The Commercial Appeal, the city's newspaper, folded neatly under her left arm.
"I was starting to think you'd entered the witness protection program, Kimmy. You're a sight for sore eyes," I said welcoming her inside.
Reading her expression was hard. Her lips were noncommittal, but her eyes sparkled. She walked to the center of my den, handed the paper to me and smirked. "Check out front page," she said.
I unfolded the paper, put on my reading glasses and my eyes went quickly to a six-column headline across the bottom of front page: "Feds Indict 24 in Tri-State Fraud, Theft, Porn Ring." The right two columns were filled with thumbnail photos of six of the suspects federal, state and local authorities had apprehended in raids the previous evening. One of them was Roger Rainey's worthless ass.
Turns out, according to a 17-count indictment, Roger had been a key figure in a crime ring based in the Memphis northside suburb of Frayser, that trafficked in jewelry, high-end electronics, valuable antiques and other valuables taken in home burglaries in at least 14 counties including and surrounding Memphis in Tennessee, Mississippi and Arkansas. That wasn't all the ring was doing: it had stolen papers such as insurance documents and bank statements and sold the data on the dark web to identity thieves. In some cases, it had planted small video cameras and connected them to unsecured residential WiFi hotspots, giving them the ability to monitor unsuspecting ulus escort victims in real time and, when they recorded intimate moments, sell them as porn files in overseas countries that don't penalize illegally obtained video the way the United States does.
"The people at my house just now, the woman was from the U.S. attorney's office and the other was from the FBI. Serena set up the meeting last night. They informed me that Roger had been charged under something called a RICO law. That means he could go to a federal prison for a long, long time, and he loses any rights to property he used as part of the criminal conspiracy," Kim said.
Kim said the assistant U.S. attorney handed asked her for any documents, papers, records that Roger might have left behind in the house and then handed her a subpoena, something Serena had asked them to do to protect Kim from any claim that she had abridged Roger's Fifth Amendment rights. Kim showed them where anything Roger hadn't taken when she kicked him out or that she hadn't tossed in the trash would be. They recovered some old telephone bills/cable bills, a bunch of canceled checks and a couple of flash drives that they had sealed in individual Ziploc bags and marked with red and white stickers. She was told she might have to testify against him at his trial, but that it probably wouldn't be necessary. Otherwise, they had told her, she was in the clear as long as she didn't discuss what she knew about the case with the press.
"But the best news is this: now that he's in federal custody without bail, Serena says I can petition the court to expedite my divorce. I told her to do it and she said I could have it by Friday -- like the song says, signed, sealed delivered," she said, smiling broadly, giggling with delight and bouncing on her toes.
Turns out, as I predicted, the arrest of Farley Houton was the turning point the cops needed. The state had him red-handed on burglary and, as a third-strike felon, he could face as much as 40 years -- essentially the rest of his life -- in a Tennessee prison. When they offered him a deal for a lesser charge to work as an informant, he jumped at it, and within days of wearing a wire had given the feds more than they needed to indict and round up 24 lowlifes with three more still at large.
"They told Serena that the FBI was still looking for any video files from my house that Houton may have stashed on some server somewhere, but every indication is that he was never able to keep any of those cameras connected to the Internet. He'd tried to connect them to my WiFi and to your, but couldn't crack either password. He tried setting up a router in his car and connect to that, but that didn't work either. When they caught him, he was trying to break back into my house to install something that would boost the signal from those cameras enough for him to receive it in his car," she said.
I handed the paper back to her, took her hands in mine and smiled.
"Now do you believe me that things are going to be OK?" I said.
She put both of her hands on my face, pulled me to her and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around her and snugged her body against mine. Our lips parted and our tongues danced for the first time.
"I was worried about you last week," I told her as we broke our kiss but not our embrace. "You were hardly yenimahalle escort at home, and I didn't get to see you. I knew it would be a demanding time between work and the legal situation."
"It was draining. And I missed you, Gordo," she said. "Didn't know if I somebody was still watching me, whether it was safe to call or come over."
"Couple of nights I cried myself to sleep and wanted so bad to come see you because you make me feel safe and cared for, but I was under strict orders not to tell anybody anything, and I couldn't chance it," she said. "But God, I missed you."
I pulled her into me again and kissed her even more passionately, and she responded in kind. She wrapped both arms around my neck and our mouths locked desperately onto each other. The clean, washed scent of her hair and her smooth skin, the faint taste of her hopelessly smudged lipstick, the easy choreography of our tongues was intoxicating on this weekday midmorning.
"I'm off all day today," she purred. "What's your day look like?"
"I got a couple of projects and deliverables over the next week or two, but nothing I can't push off til tomorrow," I whispered, peppering her face with kisses. "Whaddya got in mind?"
She took my hand and led me upstairs to my master bedroom.
"What I've seen you do here -- I want to do it with you," she said, her fingers already unbuckling my belt and unzipping my khakis.
I figured I was at most two weeks from my final divorce decree. I might be disadvantaged somewhat if Candace barged in with a camera, but that wasn't going to happen. Besides, it's the middle of the morning on a Tuesday, but honestly, I didn't care.
I found the buttons along the back of Kim's dark green dress and quickly undid them all the way down the swell of her delectable butt. My khakis fell to the floor and Kim slipped her arms free of the dress and it hit the hardwood a few seconds later. She peeled off my golf shirt, and then I looped my left hand around her back and in one swift move unclasped her brassiere. I pulled its shoulder straps to the side and the limp garment fell from her swollen nipples.
Another kiss, but this time my hand caressed her pouting breasts for the first time. Kim slipped one of her hands beneath the waistband of my boxer briefs and found the turgid cock that, until now, she had only seen from a distance. She moaned when she wrapped her fingers around.
Our desire already on a short fuse and I knew orgasmic pyrotechnics weren't far off for either of us. I scooped Kim up, as a groom would his bride, and took her the few remaining steps to my still-unmade bed and laid her gently on its sheets. I crawled onto the bed beside her and sought out her face, locking our mouths in wanton lust. She looped her leg around my hips and began grinding the crotch of her already sopping panties against my dick, now impudently peeking over my briefs' waistband.
"You're perfect, Kimmy. Perfect," I whispered to her. As my tongue moved lower to her neck and her ruddy, rosebud nipples, my fingers crept even lower, peeling aside the gusset of her panties to feel, for the first time, the soft, wet folds of her womanhood. I traced my middle finger upward along her inner lips until I found her pearlescent clit and she yelped and jerked, as if from a burst of electrical tunalı escort current.
I kissed and sucked her nipples for a few minutes as I stroked her slit, sliding first one and then two fingers into her snug, slippery vagina and then trailing them back up to her clitoris, over and over. Then I continued southward, leaving a trail of wet kisses before dipping my tongue into her navel. That seemed to throw her into another gear; her pelvis began rolling powerfully, pushing her flowering womanhood into my hand as her breathing turned ragged.
On the final leg of my oral odyssey down her torso, she began moaning as I approached her pussy. "Oh my God ... oh my God ..."
"Time for these to go," I said as I peeled her plastered panties down and she kicked them off her feet. I teased her, kissing her shaven mound, circling to the inside of her thighs, splayed as widely as she could manage to invite maximum access to her greedy pussy. When I finally dipped my tongue into her folds, she shrieked, grabbed the back of my head and pushed my mouth fully onto her drooling sex.
I began lapping up the excitement from her core and thrusting the tip of my tongue to the apex of her inner labia where her pearl peered from its dark pink hood. Seconds later, her hips seized I heard the low groan from deep in her throat that meant she was cumming. Hard. I doubled up on my tongue thrusts onto her button, but she shoved my face away, her clit far too sensitive for that level of stimulation.
Her tremors washed over her for what seemed like minutes, her hips jerking erratically as her pent-up passion slowly spent itself.
"I want you in me, Gordo," she rasped.
I yanked off my briefs and positioned the flared head of my fully erect, locked-and-loaded cock within the slickened folds bracketing her entrance. She did the rest, cinching her legs powerfully around my ass and pushing me into her until my scrotum felt the warm wetness of her womanhood.
I knew I couldn't last long. Ancient impulses took over as I glided my length into and out of her. For Kim, it wasn't that she was building toward another orgasm as much as remaining on a high plateau of pleasure in a segue from her earlier climax into her impending orgasm. Her lean abdominal muscles allowed her to match my primal thrusts in both intensity and frequency, her hips doing all they could to feed every centimeter of my penis into her pussy, so long deprived of the feel of a man.
"Fill me Gordo," she grunted as she slipped over the edge. "Cum with me ... now ..."
On command, my back arched, and I thrust myself as far as I could into Kim as the first stream of sperm spurted into her, just as her back bowed, her hips locked in a lustful spasm and her legs began to tremble. I could feel her contractions milking every drop from my penis. The involuntary quakes of her orgasm brought an occasional guttural noise from deep in her chest. I could see only the whites of her eyes behind her fluttering lids.
I held myself fast within her as the last of my semen flowed from me and swirled her magnificent nipples with my tongue as her orgasm slowly exhausted itself. Eventually, her breathing resumed a regular but heavy rhythm, her taut abdomen relaxed, and she fell limp against the sheets, though her legs remained wrapped around my waist, keeping my deflating cock within her.
When her eyes refocused, we just gazed at one another for long, wordless moments.
"Hi beautiful," I finally whispered, kissing her softly over and over. "Here we are, in each other's arms, and there's noplace else I want to be."
Her arms draped lazily around my neck. "At last, Gordo."
We kissed until we fell asleep in each other's arms.