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Noosed Nude NYC
- Thread starter windar
- Start date
And water?I have an aversion to concrete?
You prefer the slow drown?Doesn't look like I have much choice does it?
At least in the Middle Ages they did it without extra weights... but then those were people of at least some level of civilization!
Barb finds the mix too cold... Let it warm as it hardens...
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
"Stay there, Lady, the concrete is almost ready to pour!"
Madiosi's drawing reminds us well of the technical aspect of the rescue operation :
How will Goldman cut Barb's rope, needing one hand to hold the rope and the other for using the knife, AND keeping three suspects covered with his gun? They will have all the time to grab their clothes and run away, or otherwise, Barb will die!
windar
Teller of Tales
29.
You would think that after twenty seven years and more arrests than he could count, there would be no more firsts for Stan Goldman. But, you would be wrong. This was the first time he had ever arrested a bunch of naked women in the middle of an orgy.
There were certain advantages to this, the most important being that they had no place to hide any weapons and that they were engaged in a very absorbing activity that left them a bit unprepared to be so rudely interrupted.
Stan burst through the door from the end of Marty’s hallway into the barn, gun drawn, yelling, “Stan Goldman, NYPD! Everybody down on the ground! Now!” This was a bit superfluous, since two of them were already down on the ground, Cindy on her back with Cathy on top of her.
The only exception was Deb, who was standing in front of Barb, frigging herself as Barb slowly choked to death. She sank to her knees, whether because she had heard Stan’s command or simply because she was overtaken by a powerful orgasm, Stan couldn’t be sure.
“Anybody moves, I’ll blow your head off!” he shouted. The three women stared at him in shock, as though he were an alien with eight arms who had descended from a flying saucer that had landed in the barn.
Seeing that the culprits were no immediate threat, Stan rushed to take care of Barb. From close up, he could see that her face was beet red, but he could also see that her legs were still kicking, desperately looking for something solid to stand on. She was still alive and more or less conscious, thank God.
He picked up a chair and climbed up on it, feeling the heat of Barb’s naked body against his chest. Stan glanced over quickly to assure himself that the culprits were behaving themselves. Seeing that they were lying meekly on the floor, he stuck his gun in the waistband of his pants, took the chef’s knife into his right hand and wrapped his left arm around Barb’s torso. His back was killing him and figured he might need to find a good chiropractor afterwards, but he could worry about that later.
Stan began sawing through the rope with the knife. Fortunately, Marty, being a professional chef, kept his knives at optimum sharpness and it cut through the fibers of the rope like butter. As the rope gave way, he felt Barb sliding and tried to catch her, but her skin was soaked with sweat from her exertions and she slid out of his grasp onto the floor, banging her knee hard against the surface.
Freed from the strangling rope, and shocked by the pain in her knee, Barb immediately drew a deep breath and began coughing. Stan jumped down and took her in his arms, reaching behind her to cut the rope binding her hands. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Barb, are you OK?” he asked.
She kept coughing and gasping for perhaps a minute, the spasms gradually ebbing and her face taking on a more normal color. Every ten seconds or so, Stan glanced over to check that the suspects were still lying quietly on the ground. The shock of having their party in this remote locale so rudely interrupted by an armed cop who seemed to know Barb very well appeared to have kept them subdued.
Finally, Barb found enough voice to reply, hoarsely, and very sexily, Stan thought. “Took you long enough, Goldman, you asshole.” He couldn’t help putting his hand behind her head, pulling her mouth towards his and giving her a brief, but sweet romantic kiss.
“If you’re not too busy choking to death, Moore, maybe you’d like to give me a hand here. Like, say, cuffing these perps while I cover you. There are three pairs of cuffs on the table in the kitchen.”
“Why are they in the kitchen, Goldman?“ she asked.
Stan looked a bit sheepish. “I was in such a rush to save you that I forgot to grab them,” he admitted.
Barb glared daggers at him, then shook her head and got slowly to her feet. She looked a bit woozy for a moment, but she steadied herself and began moving towards the door to Marty’s living area. “Oh, Detective Moore,” Stan called out. Barb turned and looked at him. “You might want to look a bit more professional, seeing that you’re on the job now.”
Barb looked down at herself for a moment, puzzled at what Stan might be referring to. Then, the realization that she was completely naked appeared to dawn on her and she began shaking, this time with laughter, before she headed for the pile of her clothes that were lying under the card table.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Goldman?” she said, glaring at him as she passed him. She quickly got dressed and went to retrieve the handcuffs while Goldman stood on the chair and recited the Miranda warning to the naked suspects as they lay on the ground bemoaning both their arrest and the interruption of their sexual pleasure.
It took only a couple of minutes to cuff them. “You guys are City cops; you can’t arrest us up here,” Deb protested.
“Sorry, Deb,” Barb told her, “We can make arrests anywhere in New York State.” Deb looked dissatisfied with this answer, but seemed too deflated by the shock of having her hanging party and perhaps her orgasm so rudely interrupted to protest further.
As Barb was cuffing Cindy’s hands behind her, the girl asked plaintively, “Can I at least get dressed first?”
“No,” Barb told her.
“Bitch!” Cindy spat at her.
“I wasn’t the one eating someone out as my supposed friend was choking to death,” Barb told her, before she moved over to cuff Cathy’s hands.
Meanwhile, Stan had his phone out and was dialing John Newman, a Major in the State Police barracks nearest here, with whom he had worked on a number of cases. He’d thought about alerting him ahead of time, but he wasn’t sure that John would have been willing to get involved based on the flimsy evidence Stan had before tonight. Besides, he and Barb wanted this bust for themselves.
Marty’s place was isolated and it took close to twenty minutes before Stan heard the sirens. But soon after, the barn was swarming with State Troopers and County Sheriff’s Deputies, who had the suspects dressed and cuffed and on their way to the nearest lockup.
Next, Stan got on the horn to Sam Bittner and, after apologizing for waking him up from a sound sleep, gave him a rundown of the situation.
“Oh, boy!” Sam replied. “This is going to be the shit storm of all jurisdictional battles between the DA up there and ours. I know some of the ADAs up there so, I’ll make some calls, but they aren’t going to want to let us have it. You know DAs are always looking for a big case they can run on in the next election.”
“I’m convinced these people were there when Amanda Berger killed herself and that they pushed her into it just like they did with Barb,” Stan told him. “That’s a murder charge and since Barb is alive, thank goodness, the best they can do up here is attempted murder.”
“Yeah, if we can charge murder, that should give us a good shot at moving the case down to the City,” Sam told him.
“I don’t doubt that they did the same thing with Amanda Berger that they did with Barb, Sam,” Stan replied. “They were talking to her on that web site, they arranged to go to her house the night she died. The only difference is that no one was there to save her.”
“Sure, Stan, I agree that all makes perfect sense. But it would sure help if we had some actual evidence they were there at the Berger’s. Even better would be if one of them cut a deal and confessed to that and pointed the finger at the others. That should be plenty for murder charges that would give us first crack at trying them.”
He summoned Barb over. “Sam says we need to get one of them to admit that they were all involved in Amanda’s death so that the Bronx can have first crack at trying them.” Barb nodded. “You know them better than I do. Which one do you think would crack first?”
Barb appeared to think for a moment. “Deb’s the leader so I’d say either Cathy or Cindy. Probably Cathy. She seems the most vulnerable. ”
“Well, we need to know if they were there when Amanda died. No one took any samples from the Berger’s attic to look for DNA, did they?” Stan asked.
Barb shook her head. “It was ruled a suicide, so why would they?”
“But now we know it wasn’t and we know whose DNA we’re looking to match. We need to head back to the City and take Charlie Yang and his team over there ASAP. With what we know now, I think the Berger’s will be very happy to let us poke around. And in case they aren’t, we have more than enough now to get a warrant and Karen Berger will know that.”
“Stan, I’m exhausted,” Barb protested. “I almost died there and my neck is killing me and my knee too, and you want me to sit through a two hour drive and then go talk to the grieving parents?”
“Did you hear that, Sam? Barb is a bit a bit fatigued,” Stan said.
“I suppose since she almost died, it can wait until morning,” Sam said. “It does seem that she’s making a habit of near death experiences, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Stan replied. “You’d almost think she seeks them out.” He could hear Sam chortling with laughter.
“We’ll head back to the City first thing in the morning and go talk to the Berger’s,“ Stan assured him. “They’ll probably be more receptive if we show up at a decent hour and that DNA isn’t going anywhere.”
“OK, I guess it can wait until tomorrow. Tell Barb to try to stay out of trouble the rest of the night, OK Stan?”
“Will do,” Stan said, hanging up the phone. “We agreed we’ll head down first thing in the morning, darling. In the meantime, we can crash here. We’ll sleep in Marty’s guest room, OK?”
“That sounds nice, Stan,” Barb said, taking his arm and leading him out of the barn. “But can we just cuddle tonight? I’m feeling a bit wrung out as you might guess.”
“You’re the boss, Barb.”
“Don’t you ever forget that, Goldman,” she said as they lay down on the bed. “And the boss says you better take a look at her knee since you dropped her on the floor.”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Sure, just let Dr. Goldman take care of you, Moore,” he said, winking at her.
You would think that after twenty seven years and more arrests than he could count, there would be no more firsts for Stan Goldman. But, you would be wrong. This was the first time he had ever arrested a bunch of naked women in the middle of an orgy.
There were certain advantages to this, the most important being that they had no place to hide any weapons and that they were engaged in a very absorbing activity that left them a bit unprepared to be so rudely interrupted.
Stan burst through the door from the end of Marty’s hallway into the barn, gun drawn, yelling, “Stan Goldman, NYPD! Everybody down on the ground! Now!” This was a bit superfluous, since two of them were already down on the ground, Cindy on her back with Cathy on top of her.
The only exception was Deb, who was standing in front of Barb, frigging herself as Barb slowly choked to death. She sank to her knees, whether because she had heard Stan’s command or simply because she was overtaken by a powerful orgasm, Stan couldn’t be sure.
“Anybody moves, I’ll blow your head off!” he shouted. The three women stared at him in shock, as though he were an alien with eight arms who had descended from a flying saucer that had landed in the barn.
Seeing that the culprits were no immediate threat, Stan rushed to take care of Barb. From close up, he could see that her face was beet red, but he could also see that her legs were still kicking, desperately looking for something solid to stand on. She was still alive and more or less conscious, thank God.
He picked up a chair and climbed up on it, feeling the heat of Barb’s naked body against his chest. Stan glanced over quickly to assure himself that the culprits were behaving themselves. Seeing that they were lying meekly on the floor, he stuck his gun in the waistband of his pants, took the chef’s knife into his right hand and wrapped his left arm around Barb’s torso. His back was killing him and figured he might need to find a good chiropractor afterwards, but he could worry about that later.
Stan began sawing through the rope with the knife. Fortunately, Marty, being a professional chef, kept his knives at optimum sharpness and it cut through the fibers of the rope like butter. As the rope gave way, he felt Barb sliding and tried to catch her, but her skin was soaked with sweat from her exertions and she slid out of his grasp onto the floor, banging her knee hard against the surface.
Freed from the strangling rope, and shocked by the pain in her knee, Barb immediately drew a deep breath and began coughing. Stan jumped down and took her in his arms, reaching behind her to cut the rope binding her hands. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Barb, are you OK?” he asked.
She kept coughing and gasping for perhaps a minute, the spasms gradually ebbing and her face taking on a more normal color. Every ten seconds or so, Stan glanced over to check that the suspects were still lying quietly on the ground. The shock of having their party in this remote locale so rudely interrupted by an armed cop who seemed to know Barb very well appeared to have kept them subdued.
Finally, Barb found enough voice to reply, hoarsely, and very sexily, Stan thought. “Took you long enough, Goldman, you asshole.” He couldn’t help putting his hand behind her head, pulling her mouth towards his and giving her a brief, but sweet romantic kiss.
“If you’re not too busy choking to death, Moore, maybe you’d like to give me a hand here. Like, say, cuffing these perps while I cover you. There are three pairs of cuffs on the table in the kitchen.”
“Why are they in the kitchen, Goldman?“ she asked.
Stan looked a bit sheepish. “I was in such a rush to save you that I forgot to grab them,” he admitted.
Barb glared daggers at him, then shook her head and got slowly to her feet. She looked a bit woozy for a moment, but she steadied herself and began moving towards the door to Marty’s living area. “Oh, Detective Moore,” Stan called out. Barb turned and looked at him. “You might want to look a bit more professional, seeing that you’re on the job now.”
Barb looked down at herself for a moment, puzzled at what Stan might be referring to. Then, the realization that she was completely naked appeared to dawn on her and she began shaking, this time with laughter, before she headed for the pile of her clothes that were lying under the card table.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Goldman?” she said, glaring at him as she passed him. She quickly got dressed and went to retrieve the handcuffs while Goldman stood on the chair and recited the Miranda warning to the naked suspects as they lay on the ground bemoaning both their arrest and the interruption of their sexual pleasure.
It took only a couple of minutes to cuff them. “You guys are City cops; you can’t arrest us up here,” Deb protested.
“Sorry, Deb,” Barb told her, “We can make arrests anywhere in New York State.” Deb looked dissatisfied with this answer, but seemed too deflated by the shock of having her hanging party and perhaps her orgasm so rudely interrupted to protest further.
As Barb was cuffing Cindy’s hands behind her, the girl asked plaintively, “Can I at least get dressed first?”
“No,” Barb told her.
“Bitch!” Cindy spat at her.
“I wasn’t the one eating someone out as my supposed friend was choking to death,” Barb told her, before she moved over to cuff Cathy’s hands.
Meanwhile, Stan had his phone out and was dialing John Newman, a Major in the State Police barracks nearest here, with whom he had worked on a number of cases. He’d thought about alerting him ahead of time, but he wasn’t sure that John would have been willing to get involved based on the flimsy evidence Stan had before tonight. Besides, he and Barb wanted this bust for themselves.
Marty’s place was isolated and it took close to twenty minutes before Stan heard the sirens. But soon after, the barn was swarming with State Troopers and County Sheriff’s Deputies, who had the suspects dressed and cuffed and on their way to the nearest lockup.
Next, Stan got on the horn to Sam Bittner and, after apologizing for waking him up from a sound sleep, gave him a rundown of the situation.
“Oh, boy!” Sam replied. “This is going to be the shit storm of all jurisdictional battles between the DA up there and ours. I know some of the ADAs up there so, I’ll make some calls, but they aren’t going to want to let us have it. You know DAs are always looking for a big case they can run on in the next election.”
“I’m convinced these people were there when Amanda Berger killed herself and that they pushed her into it just like they did with Barb,” Stan told him. “That’s a murder charge and since Barb is alive, thank goodness, the best they can do up here is attempted murder.”
“Yeah, if we can charge murder, that should give us a good shot at moving the case down to the City,” Sam told him.
“I don’t doubt that they did the same thing with Amanda Berger that they did with Barb, Sam,” Stan replied. “They were talking to her on that web site, they arranged to go to her house the night she died. The only difference is that no one was there to save her.”
“Sure, Stan, I agree that all makes perfect sense. But it would sure help if we had some actual evidence they were there at the Berger’s. Even better would be if one of them cut a deal and confessed to that and pointed the finger at the others. That should be plenty for murder charges that would give us first crack at trying them.”
He summoned Barb over. “Sam says we need to get one of them to admit that they were all involved in Amanda’s death so that the Bronx can have first crack at trying them.” Barb nodded. “You know them better than I do. Which one do you think would crack first?”
Barb appeared to think for a moment. “Deb’s the leader so I’d say either Cathy or Cindy. Probably Cathy. She seems the most vulnerable. ”
“Well, we need to know if they were there when Amanda died. No one took any samples from the Berger’s attic to look for DNA, did they?” Stan asked.
Barb shook her head. “It was ruled a suicide, so why would they?”
“But now we know it wasn’t and we know whose DNA we’re looking to match. We need to head back to the City and take Charlie Yang and his team over there ASAP. With what we know now, I think the Berger’s will be very happy to let us poke around. And in case they aren’t, we have more than enough now to get a warrant and Karen Berger will know that.”
“Stan, I’m exhausted,” Barb protested. “I almost died there and my neck is killing me and my knee too, and you want me to sit through a two hour drive and then go talk to the grieving parents?”
“Did you hear that, Sam? Barb is a bit a bit fatigued,” Stan said.
“I suppose since she almost died, it can wait until morning,” Sam said. “It does seem that she’s making a habit of near death experiences, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Stan replied. “You’d almost think she seeks them out.” He could hear Sam chortling with laughter.
“We’ll head back to the City first thing in the morning and go talk to the Berger’s,“ Stan assured him. “They’ll probably be more receptive if we show up at a decent hour and that DNA isn’t going anywhere.”
“OK, I guess it can wait until tomorrow. Tell Barb to try to stay out of trouble the rest of the night, OK Stan?”
“Will do,” Stan said, hanging up the phone. “We agreed we’ll head down first thing in the morning, darling. In the meantime, we can crash here. We’ll sleep in Marty’s guest room, OK?”
“That sounds nice, Stan,” Barb said, taking his arm and leading him out of the barn. “But can we just cuddle tonight? I’m feeling a bit wrung out as you might guess.”
“You’re the boss, Barb.”
“Don’t you ever forget that, Goldman,” she said as they lay down on the bed. “And the boss says you better take a look at her knee since you dropped her on the floor.”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Sure, just let Dr. Goldman take care of you, Moore,” he said, winking at her.
windar
Teller of Tales
Now you see, for a pro like Stan, it was no problem."Stay there, Lady, the concrete is almost ready to pour!"
Madiosi's drawing reminds us well of the technical aspect of the rescue operation :
How will Goldman cut Barb's rope, needing one hand to hold the rope and the other for using the knife, AND keeping three suspects covered with his gun? They will have all the time to grab their clothes and run away, or otherwise, Barb will die!
All the advantages were on his side-the gun, the element of surprise, clothed vs naked. The suspects would have had to either run out naked into the cold night or take the time to get dressed, all the while risking being shot. If they flee on foot into the woods, they don't know the area. If they take the car, every cop in the state will be looking for it. The greater literary license is having Barb be functioning so quickly sfter her aborted hanging. All we can say there is- it's Barb. She has amazing recuperative powers, doesn't she? She doesn't want to miss out on the rest of the story, and I hope you all will feel the same
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
I humbly admit : Stan did a very professional job!Now you see, for a pro like Stan, it was no problem.
windar
Teller of Tales
Thank you. A few RL issues have intervened, but we hope the story will resume shortly.
Hopefuly later this week when my neck isn’t so sore and I can complain ... I mean speak ... again.
I thought that was the best line in the most recent chapter. Enough said!
I thought that was the best line in the most recent chapter. Enough said!
Chapter 30.
I was conscious of several things as I kicked away that stool. First, there was Cathy, standing there alluringly in her cute little blue bra, suggesting that the time had come for me to kick it away. I knew I had to do it ... that was the plan. I also was vaguely aware, through my ear piece, of the whistling sound of Stan suddenly sucking in his breath. The thought that Amanda Berger had stood on a stool about to risk her neck in much the same way as I was, crossed my mind ... the difference being that I knew I for sure I would be rescued by Stan, whereas she had put her faith in the likes of Deb, Cindy and Cathy. I wondered what her thoughts might have been just before she kicked her chair away. And finally, I couldn't escape the fact that I was being driven to hang myself by an irresistible desire to have the super orgasm building inside me.
So, away flew the stool with a scrape and a clatter, and boldly off into thin air I stepped ... dropping ... abruptly arrested with a jolt by the noose tightening at my neck. ... gagging as I spun crazily around ... flailing wildly with my feet ... choking ... dancing ... gasping for air ... lightheadedness ... feelings of giddiness .. tingling burn deep down .., powerful rush ... explosive, squirting orgasmic pleasure ... momentarily blacking out.
Coming to ... eyes open ... in a state of absolute terror ... kicking wildly ... croaking ...warm piss running down my legs ... rotating slowly ... rope groaning and creaking overhead ... vaguely aware of people ... girls ... stripping away their clothing ... groping ... embracing one another ... on the floor at my feet ... vision blurring ... spacing out.
Back ,,, for a fleeting, lucid moment ... panicked ... realizing that no one ... going to rescue me ... vision blurring again ... Stan’s voice ... somewhere ... shouting, “Stan Goldman, NYPD! Everybody down on the ground! Now!” ... huh? ... total blackout.
Someone’s arm around me ,,, Stan’s? ... holding me tight ,,, lifting me ... deep, welcome breath of air ... cut loose ... falling ... hard floor ... sharp pain in the knee ... sprawling ... gurgling, choking ... writhing ... desperately clawing the severed noose away from my neck ... struggling to.sit up ... vision clearing ... Goldman’s face ... sudden flash of anger!
“Took you long enough, Goldman, you asshole!”
Kissed ... Geez! ... rubbing my throbbing, painfully bruised neck ... everything spinning ... dizzy feeling ... foggy ... Stan’s voice again:
“If you’re not too busy choking to death, Moore, maybe you’d like to give me a hand here. Like, say, cuffing these perps while I cover you. You’ll find some lying on the table in the kitchen.”
What the fuck? Bastard!
Getting slowly to my feet ... groggy ... wobbly ... orienting ... staggering toward the passageway to the kitchen ... past the open barn door ... cool night air wafting in ... air! ... wonderful air! ... fucking Stan’s voice again:
“Oh, Detective Moore. You might want to look a bit more professional, seeing that you’re on the job now.”
What? ... Shit! ... I’m naked! ... wicked glare at Stan ... reversed course ... groping on hands and knees for clothes tossed under the card table ... are these mine? ... I don’t know ... I think so.
By the time I had retrieved and struggled into my black kinis and bra, my head had finally cleared enough so that I began feeling a bit like my old self again. I wiggled into my dress, reaching behind my back to pull up the zipper, fully aware that Goldman was watching me with that annoying shit-eating grin of his.
Finished dressing, I headed back toward the kitchen, snarling I’ll-temperedly at Goldman as I passed him by, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Goldman?”
As I left the barn he was reciting the Miranda warning to our sullen little group of naked collars. We had them! I allowed myself a grim little smile.
Returning to the barn, cuffs in hand, I steadied myself momentarily against the door jam. The reality of what just happened and how narrowly I had escaped death was just beginning to dawn on me, and suddenly I felt a bit nauseous. I took several deep breaths, and waited another minute or two. Then I reminded myself that I was one of New York's finest, straightened up and marched back into the barn.
Cuffing the perps gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. After all they just tried to kill me! But then again ... I just couldn't shake the thrill side of the whole thing ... God what an orgasm I had while hanging from that rope! Nothing I had ever experienced quite compared.
Stan was on the phone calling for backup from the local force. I sat down on the very chair that on which I had lost my clothes and gazed at the severed rope from which I nearly hung myself to death. Once again, my mind played over the sequence of events, dwelling on the moments of pure sexual pleasure as well as on the moments of absolute terror.
It was all so overwhelming. I was thankful to hear the sound of approaching sirens.
I was conscious of several things as I kicked away that stool. First, there was Cathy, standing there alluringly in her cute little blue bra, suggesting that the time had come for me to kick it away. I knew I had to do it ... that was the plan. I also was vaguely aware, through my ear piece, of the whistling sound of Stan suddenly sucking in his breath. The thought that Amanda Berger had stood on a stool about to risk her neck in much the same way as I was, crossed my mind ... the difference being that I knew I for sure I would be rescued by Stan, whereas she had put her faith in the likes of Deb, Cindy and Cathy. I wondered what her thoughts might have been just before she kicked her chair away. And finally, I couldn't escape the fact that I was being driven to hang myself by an irresistible desire to have the super orgasm building inside me.
So, away flew the stool with a scrape and a clatter, and boldly off into thin air I stepped ... dropping ... abruptly arrested with a jolt by the noose tightening at my neck. ... gagging as I spun crazily around ... flailing wildly with my feet ... choking ... dancing ... gasping for air ... lightheadedness ... feelings of giddiness .. tingling burn deep down .., powerful rush ... explosive, squirting orgasmic pleasure ... momentarily blacking out.
Coming to ... eyes open ... in a state of absolute terror ... kicking wildly ... croaking ...warm piss running down my legs ... rotating slowly ... rope groaning and creaking overhead ... vaguely aware of people ... girls ... stripping away their clothing ... groping ... embracing one another ... on the floor at my feet ... vision blurring ... spacing out.
Back ,,, for a fleeting, lucid moment ... panicked ... realizing that no one ... going to rescue me ... vision blurring again ... Stan’s voice ... somewhere ... shouting, “Stan Goldman, NYPD! Everybody down on the ground! Now!” ... huh? ... total blackout.
Someone’s arm around me ,,, Stan’s? ... holding me tight ,,, lifting me ... deep, welcome breath of air ... cut loose ... falling ... hard floor ... sharp pain in the knee ... sprawling ... gurgling, choking ... writhing ... desperately clawing the severed noose away from my neck ... struggling to.sit up ... vision clearing ... Goldman’s face ... sudden flash of anger!
“Took you long enough, Goldman, you asshole!”
Kissed ... Geez! ... rubbing my throbbing, painfully bruised neck ... everything spinning ... dizzy feeling ... foggy ... Stan’s voice again:
“If you’re not too busy choking to death, Moore, maybe you’d like to give me a hand here. Like, say, cuffing these perps while I cover you. You’ll find some lying on the table in the kitchen.”
What the fuck? Bastard!
Getting slowly to my feet ... groggy ... wobbly ... orienting ... staggering toward the passageway to the kitchen ... past the open barn door ... cool night air wafting in ... air! ... wonderful air! ... fucking Stan’s voice again:
“Oh, Detective Moore. You might want to look a bit more professional, seeing that you’re on the job now.”
What? ... Shit! ... I’m naked! ... wicked glare at Stan ... reversed course ... groping on hands and knees for clothes tossed under the card table ... are these mine? ... I don’t know ... I think so.
By the time I had retrieved and struggled into my black kinis and bra, my head had finally cleared enough so that I began feeling a bit like my old self again. I wiggled into my dress, reaching behind my back to pull up the zipper, fully aware that Goldman was watching me with that annoying shit-eating grin of his.
Finished dressing, I headed back toward the kitchen, snarling I’ll-temperedly at Goldman as I passed him by, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Goldman?”
As I left the barn he was reciting the Miranda warning to our sullen little group of naked collars. We had them! I allowed myself a grim little smile.
Returning to the barn, cuffs in hand, I steadied myself momentarily against the door jam. The reality of what just happened and how narrowly I had escaped death was just beginning to dawn on me, and suddenly I felt a bit nauseous. I took several deep breaths, and waited another minute or two. Then I reminded myself that I was one of New York's finest, straightened up and marched back into the barn.
Cuffing the perps gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. After all they just tried to kill me! But then again ... I just couldn't shake the thrill side of the whole thing ... God what an orgasm I had while hanging from that rope! Nothing I had ever experienced quite compared.
Stan was on the phone calling for backup from the local force. I sat down on the very chair that on which I had lost my clothes and gazed at the severed rope from which I nearly hung myself to death. Once again, my mind played over the sequence of events, dwelling on the moments of pure sexual pleasure as well as on the moments of absolute terror.
It was all so overwhelming. I was thankful to hear the sound of approaching sirens.
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windar
Teller of Tales
So you're going to replace me with a rope?
Oh, maybe not. I might be good for something after all...
You're welcome, Moore
That's almost your uniform by now, Moore...
Oh, yeah
Good chapter... How was your orgasm???
So you're going to replace me with a rope?
Can’t be any dumber, and it doesn’t watch Seinfeld.
None of your business!
windar
Teller of Tales