Chapter 2

Detective Mike Harris tipped up Michele Bouvier's black leather shoulder bag and spilled out the contents onto the desk in his bedroom. It was now two days since he raped Michele Bouvier in the railway station workshop but this was the first chance he had to explore the contents of her bag.

He and detective sergeant Janine Munner had been busy working the Pantyhose Rapist case, waiting for the forensic evidence and poring over the statements they had taken. He knew that nothing would come of it; when they ran the prints and DNA from the crime scene they matched the other prints and DNA from the other Pantyhose Rapist cases but they didn't match anything on file.

Mike had replaced his own fingerprints and DNA in the all of the law enforcement databases with those of an unknown bum who had died long ago, so even if they ran the crime scene forensics through the police databases for elimination purposes they would not be able to match them to him.

Including Michele Bouvier, Mike Harris had raped ten women; but only five of the women had reported the crime. As an SVU specialist Mike knew that only about fifty percent of rapes actually got reported to the police. He was now on a twenty-four hour off-shift rotation so he had some time on his hands.

He opened Michele's notebook computer but as he expected it was password protected. He knew people in the underworld who could easily hack into the computer but the risk of exposing himself was too great. He shut it down and put it aside to be disposed of later. He opened her cell phone and checked her contact list and scrolled through it. He found an entry for Nadine, Michele's daughter, and smiled.

"Now this will come in useful," he said to himself.

Her purse contained some cash and credit cards; he put the cash in his wallet and threw the credit cards onto the bed with the laptop. He rifled through the other compartments of the purse and found a key. It looked like a deadlock key and he guessed it might be a spare key to the Bouvier residence. Would she think to change the locks? Her key ring was not in the bag so maybe she kept her keys in her jacket pocket and she still had them? Maybe she wouldn't remember the spare key in her purse? He placed it beside the mobile phone. The rest of the contents of the bag held no interest for him. He stuffed the computer, the credit cards and the purse back in the shoulder bag.

Mike decided to go out for a drink; he thought better when he was alone in a bar. He went out of his apartment building via the basement car park and threw Michele's shoulder bag into the furnace on the way to his car. He stopped at a local hangout and had a couple of drinks while he planned his next move and then went home and slept soundly. Before he nodded off he masturbated using a pair of pantyhose he had taken from one of his victims. He wished now he had taken Michele Bouvier's; he recalled how she had thrust against him during the rape; how she had enjoyed being fucked by the anonymous assailant.

"We need to speak to the Bouvier woman again," Janine Munner said to him when he arrived at the station the next day.

"I'm still not convinced we got everything from her," she went on.

"Ok with me," Mike replied.

"I'd like to speak to her alone this time; I'd like you to interview the husband and also I'd like to interview the daughter if she's home. Michele might have told them something that she hasn't told us," Janine said as they drove out to the Bouvier house.

Mike smiled. It would be fun to interview the poor sap whose wife he had raped; and if he could get some time alone with that sweet little daughter of hers it might help him consolidate the plans he had for her.

Mike checked out his partner. 'Fucking lipstick lesbians! They all need a good fucking!' he thought.

Today she was wearing a light coloured skirt and jacket combo; the skirt was short enough that he could see right up her long legs. Those long well defined limbs were clad in sheer taupe pantyhose and her feet were shod in beige high-heels. Her makeup was perfect as usual and a miasma of perfume surrounded her. She wore her long blonde hair in a braid. She had big tits too! If she weren't his partner she would definitely be on his victim list!

They were ushered into the Bouvier house but they received a reluctant welcome. Janine explained that they just needed to follow up on some facts and Michele ushered her into the lounge. Michele was once again impeccably dressed in skirt, blouse, hose and heels; her makeup was heavy but discerningly applied. Mike would have fucked her again in a heartbeat. He followed Harold Bouvier into the den.

"I'm sorry to have to do this again Mister Bouvier," he began.

Harold waived dismissively at a chair.

"Let's just get this over with so my family can get on with our lives," he sighed.

Mike sat down and pulled out his notebook; Harold Bouvier continued to pace back and forth.

"I understand the dreadful situation in which your family finds itself but I have to ask you some questions. Your wife may have held back vital information; which is of course understandable given the ordeal she has been through, and the delicacies involved."

"Is there anything that your wife told you in confidence that you think may help us," Mike asked.

"Not really. In the past she has mentioned that some of the guys in the office where she works have come on to her; but surely she would have recognised one of her colleagues if he were the perpetrator. Besides, really? With all that young skirt parading around the office where she works why would one of them go for Michele?"

Mike was taken aback at the callousness of her husband. He obviously didn't have that much respect for his wife and he certainly didn't appreciate her. No wonder she became turned on when she was raped; her husband probably hadn't fucked for quiet some time.

"So there is nothing that you can add that would help our investigation?" Mike went on.

"Well not really. But I just don't understand it," Harold ran his fingers through his hair despondently.

"Understand what Mister Bouvier?"

"Well her hair and makeup were mussed, her skirt was torn and her pantyhose had a hole ripped in them and her ass had a few scratches but she wasn't hurt," Harold said.

"Not all rapists beat their victims," Mike explained.

"Yeah; but if she had put up a fight, wouldn't she be battered and bruised? He had her in that workshop for over half an hour; why didn't someone hear her screaming? You heard what she said; she said he took her twice!"

"Jesus! How could she let him?" Harold whined.

'Because she enjoyed being impaled on my long thick cock?' Mike was thinking to himself and suppressed a smile.

"How could she? How could she let that man fuck her! I told her that dressing the way she does, she's asking for it!" Harold was angry now; his voice raised.

"I saw her underwear and her skirt in those plastic evidence bags; they were soaked! The asshole must have come on her; so imagine how much of his stuff she must have had inside of her! Christ!" Harold's disgust was evident.

"Mister Bouvier; he had a knife, your wife probably saved herself from severe injuries by not fighting or resisting the man who attacked her," Mike tried to diffuse the situation and stop Harold from shouting.

"Bullshit! I bet the bitch begged for it! That asshole raped my wife; came all over her and then fucked her! And what did she do? She did nothing! She probably gave him a fucking blowjob!" Harold screeched.

The door was slightly ajar and suddenly it opened fully and Michele Bouvier stepped into the room carrying coffee, cream, and sugar on a silver tray. Mike could see the tears in her eyes and his heart softened. How could her husband be such an asshole; how could he not appreciate her beauty. Sure she was a buxom woman, but she was sexy as all hell!

"Coffee gentlemen?" Michele asked; her voice quivering.

She had obviously overheard her husband ranting and his accusations.

She walked over to the desk and put down the tray. As she bent over Mike got a tantalising glimpse of the back of her legs. She poured coffee and Mike got out of his chair and went over to the table. Her breasts strained against the buttons on her cream chiffon blouse; he could see she wore a white satin camisole under her blouse.

"Thanks," Mike said as she offered him a cup, he noticed the red nailpolish on her long manicured fingernails; her fingers were long and delicate.

She turned on her heels and took a pace towards her husband offering him a cup of coffee.

Harold exploded and slapped the coffee out of his wife's hand; the cup flew across the room. Some of the coffee spilled on her blouse.

"You let some stranger fuck you in a railway workshop and you think coffee's going to make it better! You stupid cunt!" Harold stormed out of the room.

Michele began to sob and Mike went over to her. She fell into his arms and put her head on his shoulder and cried. Mike held her gently and let her cry; her body felt wonderful and she smelled delightful. His cock began to thicken.

Janine Munner stuck her head around the door to see what the commotion was all about. She saw Mike comforting Michele and she made hand gestures indicating for him to continue to comfort Michele while she talked to her husband. Mike nodded.

He heard Janine and Harold talking in hushed tones in the hallway and then their voices trailed off; they must have gone into another room.

Mike still held Michele in his arms and she was leaning against him. Although she was a big woman she felt delicate; her breasts pressed against his chest and her belly brushed his. She heaved as she sobbed and her breasts and abdomen rubbed against his body. He held her tightly and his cock became erect. Her perfume enveloped them as they held onto each other for what for him seemed like an eternity.

Michele felt safe in the embrace of this young policeman; his body was hard but his touch soft and considerate; he stroked her back soothingly and then caressed her hair. Michele let the man comfort her for a while and allowed herself to be calmed and soothed by his gentle embrace. She absentmindedly lifted one foot off the ground and leaned into the man's toned body. She suddenly became aware of how close they were; her belly was pressing against his groin and she realised he had an erection.

Her initial reaction was to break the embrace and push him away from her but it felt so marvellous to be held by someone who obviously appreciated her. Also she had been in a state of semi-arousal ever since she had been raped and the feel of the man's hard member pressing against her through her clothing was quiet erotic.

Michele lifted her head off his shoulders and stared at him; her face inches from his. Mike gazed into her pretty eyes and his cock pulsed; he knew she could feel it. She suddenly smiled. She leaned forward and pecked him gently on the lips.

"Naughty boy," she smiled and stepped back out of his embrace.

Mike could taste her lipstick and smell her perfume.

They heard footsteps approaching.

"Will that be all officer?" Michele asked, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as Janine Munner and her husband entered the room.

"Detective actually; but yes for now Mrs Bouvier," Mike replied; her eyes registered his amusement at their private joke.

"And I'd just like to apologise. To my wife and to you two detectives," Harold Bouvier said somewhat pompously.

"Oh go fuck yourself Harold!" Michele Bouvier sneered and spun on her heels.

Now she looked a lot more composed and in control. Her ass, constrained nicely in her tight skirt, sashayed from side to side provocatively as she strode purposely out of the room.

"Michele! Honey! I'm sorry!" Harold called after her as he followed in her wake.

"What a fucking dweeb!" Janine Munner muttered.

"Yep," Mike replied, thankful that his suit jacket hid his boner.

"Did you learn anything else?" Janine asked Mike as they drove back to the station.

"Other than the fact that her husband is a complete, unappreciative, asshole; no!" Mike replied.

"Unappreciative? Be careful Mike your chauvinism is slipping," Janine jibed him.

"Well even a complete misogynist like myself can see that Harold is blaming his wife for what happened to her. She seems like a very nice lady to me."

"Jesus Mike! You're the one who told me to harden up; you're not sweet on the broad are you?" Janine continued to rib her partner.

"Nah! You're more my type. Too bad you're a rug-munching lipstick-lezzo!"

"Ah, that's more like the partner I know and love. I didn't get much else out of her either and I doubt she told her daughter anything. I don't know though; I still get the feeling she isn't telling us everything," Janine mused.

The following evening Mike was parked outside of the Graham Academy; the community college where Michele's seventeen year old daughter Nadine attended school. The boys were practicing football and the cheerleaders were practicing their cheer routines on the playing field under the floodlights.

Mike had his binoculars fixed on Nadine Bouvier. Just like the last time he has seen her she was dressed in her cheerleader outfit; a white pleated skirt, a figure-hugging spandex top, white with the letters GA in blue and red emblazoned on it, sheer flesh-tone tights and white gym shoes. Her brunette hair was worn in a ponytail.

She pranced around; her skirt flying up and her chest heaving in the tight spandex top as she went through her cheer routines. Mike had a huge erection that he stroked through his pants. He saw that the practice was about to finish and watched as she went over to the bleachers to where her tote bag lay. He quickly dialled a number in his cell phone and smiled as he watched Nadine rummage around in her bag for her phone.

Mike had got Nadine's number from her mother's cell phone.

"Hello?" Mike heard Nadine pant into the phone; she was still catching her breath after the workout.

"Hi. Nadine Bouvier? This is detective Harris; I was at your place a few days ago."

"Oh, hello detective; what can I do for you?"

Mike went on to explain how he would like to talk to her to see if there was anything that she might be able to help them with regarding her mother's case. He definitely did not tell her that if anyone should be talking to her, it should be his partner, who incidentally, was of a mind that Nadine had nothing to add to the facts of the case.

"I guess so; sure. I want to help. When?" she asked.

"Well I'm parked across the street here; maybe I can give you a ride home and we can talk on the way?"

"Sure," she replied; why should a seventeen-year-old girl be suspicious of a cop?

Mike reached into the glove compartment and took out a small digital voice recorder. He switched it on and slid it under his seat. He unclipped the pancake holster containing his weapon and slid that under the seat too.

Mike watched Nadine approach and his cock pulsated; goddamn she was hot! Her little skirt flicked around her thighs and her firm tits were moulded to her spandex top. She waved as she approached his car and gave him a big smile. He reached across and pushed open the door for her. She tossed her tote bag on the back seat and climbed in the front. His eyes went straight to her legs as she carelessly allowed the little skirt to ride right up her thighs. She was wearing white spandex gym panties; what he thought were flesh-tone tights were in fact tan pantyhose. She saw him looking and smiled innocently.

"I don't wear my good tights to practice; its bad enough they made us wear the uniform and full makeup, I must look a mess," she said.

Her face was fully made up; lipstick, powder, blush, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara; the whole shebang. Her makeup was only slightly smeared by the workout and she smelled like bubblegum and perfume overlaid with a scintilla of perspiration.

"Yeah it was a full dress rehearsal for the game this weekend but I'll be fucked if I'm going to ruin my good tights so I wear these old things," Nadine pulled the sheer nylon away from her thigh and Mike's cock thickened.

"Em; rather strong language for a schoolgirl," he smiled at her.

"Bullshit, I'm a college freshman," she beamed back at him.

He was amazed at how brazen she was with him and how attractive she looked. She was a younger version of her mother; all curves, and tits to die for.

She deftly spun around, and kneeling on the seat, she leaned over and rummaged around in her bag. Her skirt rode right up her ample ass and Mike could see all of her white spandex panties. They were moulded to her taut buttocks; the crevice of her ass crack clearly visible through the almost transparent material. The gym panties covered her ass from the tops of her thighs to her trim waist; the waistband of her pantyhose was also tantalisingly visible.

Nadine adeptly spun around and caught him looking. She smiled again.

"What is about guys with girls dressed in cheerleader outfits? Its just gym clothes worn with a short skirt!" she flopped back in her seat.

Mike saw that she had taken a package of cigarettes and a lighter from her bag.

"Well not all girls fill their cheerleader outfits like you," Mike smiled back at her.

Nadine looked at him quizzically.

"You're pretty fresh for a cop who's supposed to be interviewing me about my mother," she said.

"And you're pretty fresh for a co-ed in her first year of college," he replied.

"That's why they call us freshmen," she beamed back at him and shook out a cigarette and offered it to him.

"We aren't supposed to smoke in municipal vehicles," Mike said, taking the offered cigarette.

"You aren't supposed to look up the skirts of teenage college girls either I bet?" she sniggered.

She offered him a light and then lit her own cigarette.

"It's a cheerleader outfit; you're not showing me anything I couldn't see sitting on the fifty yard line," Mike smiled back.

"Sure Mike," Nadine replied and deliberately hiked up her skirt to the top of her thighs.

"Flirt!" he said playfully.

Nadine got serious.

"So. About mom?"

"Well my partner and I were wondering if she might have told you something that she wouldn't tell us. A lot of sexual assault victims confide in their close family members things they are too embarrassed to tell the cops."

"Like what?"

"Like anything," Mike replied.

"Ok. She told you that he came twice right? Is that relevant? That he came twice? Mom said he panty-popped her first before he fucked her," she drew on her cigarette.

"You can get the DNA off her underwear because he panty-popped her," she said earnestly.

Mike was amazed at how forthright and unemotional this young woman was. Hearing her talk this way was turning him on tremendously.

"Err ... Panty-popped?" Mike asked.

"Oh. That's what we girls do for our boyfriends if we really like them. The boys want to fuck us but some of the girls don't want to give up their cherries. Most girls will let a guy finger-bang them and some of the more adventurous girls let the guys panty-pop them."

"Your generation probably called it dry-humping; but this is a little bit more daring. You let the guy climb on top of you and rub his cock on the crotch of your panties or pantyhose. Hence the term 'panty-pop' get it?"

"Jesus!" Mike exhaled, blowing a long plume of cigarette smoke out the window.

"So is that any help?" she smiled at him again and ran her tongue seductively across her teeth.

"Well we know about the DNA on your mother's underwear. Is there anything else?" Mike asked.

"Apart from the fact that she enjoyed it," Nadine said matter-of-factly.

"Whaaat?" Mike coughed and nearly dropped his cigarette.

"She told me last night. Came into my room and spilled her guts. Said my father had accused her of being a trollop who got what she asked for. Said dad hadn't fucked her for months. Said the rapist's cock was bigger and thicker than dad's and that he knew how to use it."

"Said she stood on her high-heels, spread her legs, and rutted like a whore. Said she enjoyed every minute of it and that as soon as I leave college she's giving the old man the boot."

"Jesus!" Mike repeated himself, incredulous at this girl's candid responses.

"She really said all that?"

"Yep she did. She says its still rape though because she wasn't willing to start with. Says the guy forced himself on her but that she got hot only when he started you to ... you know ... do her."

"And what do you think of all that?" Mike asked.

"I love my mom and I hate my dad. I'm glad she's leaving the old bastard. I'm sad she got raped but if she was forced to enjoy it; that's not really such a bad thing."

"Jesus," Mike repeated himself yet again.

Nadine flicked her cigarette out of the window and pulled on her seat belt.

"So are you still going to give me a ride home?" she smiled at him again.

"Sure," Mike started the car.

"How old are you?" Nadine asked, aimlessly staring out the window.

"Jesus! I'm thirty something," he smiled trying to concentrate on the road ahead but he kept stealing furtive glances at the teenager's long legs and firm tits.

"Mom says you're hot," she rambled on.

"Jesus!"

"She says you hugged her when dad ranted and raved at her. Says you were really kind."