Chapter 5

I called Sandy as soon as we arrived at San Francisco airport and finished releasing pent up urine.

"I booked you into the Presidential Suite at the Marriot at Union Square," she told me.

"Johnson?" I asked her.

"Mr. and Mrs. Being newlyweds, Dotty hasn't changed her ID yet. Call Kenneth. Special Agent Jones found out about a party."

"At the Silicon Valley house?"

"Unh-hunh. Seems Abdullah needs a computer nerd sympathetic to the hidden agenda and a party scene would allow perusal of applicants by interested parties. Drew found out about it through a rising insider in La Famliia, a computer nerd himself. He's a logistician who pretends to be a greedy geek, Columbian so trustworthy. He recommended Kenneth."

"Perfect," I said. "And much quicker moving than I thought. So when's the party?"

"Friday," meaning two days.

"Perfect."

"So how will you attend it?" asked Sandy.

"Me and Dotty both," I smiled into the phone receiver. "Kenneth likes it both ways."

"How ... San Francisco," Sandy chuckled.

"They need to replace Bostwitch. It'll take two: the face and the brains. Dotty can work on Abdullah."

"Unless he prefers playing for the other side. They may actually have had a real relationship exactly like the one you're pretending."

I cringed. "Then maybe I take one for the team. However it's needed, they'll be seduced. Dotty can give Beatrice some tongue action. Fair is fair after all," I winked at my sexy fellow PI who showed her tongue to me. "The Bradah's buds will add to the orgy."

"I bet they'll want in on that."

"I'm counting on it."

Dotty needed hard, and of course I gave her what she needed. The release on the airplane brought me more time before I came in her responsive pussy. Reaching the king size bed in the fancy suite having left a trail of discarded clothing, I immediately entered her, climbing between her wide spread thighs, beginning the marathon fuck. We finished the first leg of it with my pelvis bouncing against her taut little butt cheeks.

She always had the tightest little body I ever fucked, and even without bashing drums everyday for nearly a decade tightening her arms and shoulders, she still retained muscular firmness. Maybe not as over developed in the upper body, surprisingly strong for such a petite woman, the rest of her body had equalized with the top part, perhaps from lessening of upper strength, but also from greatening the lower parts. Age and/or maternity had added a thicker layer over the well strung muscles softening her tautness, but she still felt like a wildcat in my arms.

And she still had the capability to be inexhaustible which hours of drumming had brought her. This was demonstrated when, after the doggy style pounding, I found myself getting my breath back on my back with her expert blow job coaxing resurrection, my cum dripping from her pussy as I sustained her heightened libido with my fingers until she succeeded in getting me hard enough to return my well used sausage to her encasing cunt and she rode me for what seemed like hours, rarely slowing even during multiple climaxes. It's good that she could keep bouncing on me through climaxes because I barely had the energy to lift up into her.

Though I might have felt like she used my cock like it was some sort of flesh dildo attached to a saddle, possibly losing interest during her relentlessness, she never made me feel that way. She kept changing angles both in her torso in relationship to mine and in the direction my cock entered her, shifting at just the right time to prevent anything getting old.

Despite sustaining a hard and fast fuck for well over an hour, there was no mistaking the fact that we made love. We communicated physically and visually though rarely vocally. Like a marathon runner, she never wasted breath on exclamations of passions. Just ahs and ohs exited her mouth. She never demanded me to fuck her harder or faster, because I fucked her hard and fast from the beginning, and in the end she took over the fucking. And through this silent communication, she knew exactly when the last of my seed readied to enter her frothy innards. She could see it in my tightened face and feel it in the grip on her hips as I took over the fuck for the first time during the cowgirl fucking, ending it with rabbit upward thrusts, pulling her downwards against them resulting in violent meetings and the deepest penetration of the evening until explosive ejaculations got sent directly past her cervix, the explosions reverberating throughout my body.

"I love you, Joe," she sighed, kissing my chin, the closest part of my face she could reach while the last of my orgasm rippled through me.

"I love you, Dotty," I barely murmured.

She chuckled at my breathlessness and gave me another sweet kiss on my chin. "That was fantastic," she said, "even if you are getting a little out of shape in your old age."

"Fuck you," I said, causing another sexy, raspy chuckle.

My comment could have brought more teasing from her. In the silence my imagination filled in various comments she might have given. Instead she sighed and snuggled her head against my chest. "Ooh," she added when my flaccid penis slipped out of her flooded pussy unleashing a stream of combined pleasure juices onto my balls.

"How come you're in such incredible shape?" I finally asked her, ending the quiet moment.

She responded with a chuckle, "You'll find out in the morning."

I couldn't help cringing. Though I worked out a couple times a week when I thought of it, often with Sandy's insistence, I knew I could be in better shape. And Dotty being in incredible shape, I knew she must work hard at it.

"I'm starved," she said.

"Me too," I replied unnecessarily since my words had a stomach rumble as accompaniment.

"We're in the land of great restaurants," she said, sliding off me and rolling onto her feet.

"Let's go to Melody's Bistro," I suggested. "I haven't been there yet."

"Is it good?" Dotty asked me, pulling me onto my feet and hugging her petite naked body against me.

"Like I said, I haven't been. It just opened recently. But her cooking is always amazing."

After cleaning each other's backs and other places in the shower, we got dressed quickly. Not one for make-up and only needing a couple of strokes of a brush through her short blonde hair, Dotty could get ready faster than any woman I ever knew intimately. Even Dianne, my most butch lover, took time to prettify herself. Truth was, Dotty just didn't need it. She was naturally gorgeous with perfect bone structure and healthy, slightly tanned skin.

Holding hands, fingers enmeshed, we acted like boyfriend/girlfriend or more in the theme of our disguise, newlyweds, as we headed out, grabbed a cab to Polk Street, and arrived at "Pomme d'Or," Melody's amazing bistro.

It wasn't an act, though, our intimacy. Dotty needed it. And I loved being in her company.

Though the name may have been French, Melody preferred a more eclectic menu, including entrees from throughout the European mainland. However, soups, appetizers and desserts tended towards the Parisian or French provincial. I happened to love her more Italian dishes, choosing muscles that evening swimming in perfect tomato sauce with al dente spaghetti noodles, all fresh, even the pasta. Dotty went the French route with Boef Bourgandian, also extraordinarily delicious. After sharing a decadent Napoleon pastry and congratulating the chef, i.e. Melody, we headed out for a long and eventually exhausting stroll to work off the dinner.

A half block from the Bistro, Dotty commented, "Melody's as delicious as her meals. She could easily be a Playboy centerfold. You never tried to tap that?"

"Are you sure you're a girl?" I chuckled.

"I believe I made that amply apparent this afternoon," she reminded me with an elbow into my side as emphasis.

"Would you tap her?" I asked.

"Even I might," she told me. "And you know how I am about women."

"You're as heterosexual as me," I said.

"Pretty much."

"But a really hot woman stirs you?"

"Maybe a little."

I nodded, thinking about Beatrice and the possibility of both of us experiencing sexual aspects neither one of us enjoyed. "Dotty may have an easier time of it than me," I thought to myself.

"So?" Dotty persisted. "You ever try to get into those panties?"

"Never even considered it."

"Bullshit."

"Well maybe I imagined her naked. What man wouldn't? But we've never had the warmest friendship."

"Because you're a man?"

"I don't think she's a man hater."

"You sure about that? I mean, she's like Marilyn Monroe hot without any innocence or fragility. I bet she's been that way since adolescence. I bet men hit on her maybe before she even grew those incredible tits."

"You think she was abused?"

"I wouldn't be surprised considering her gender preference. And her toughness. Chloe never said anything?"

"She'd never get that personal. And it's none of my business. But Melody's cold shoulder has nothing to do with my gender. If I was a girl, she'd be even more standoffish to me."

Dotty got it and laughed. "Really? You'd rather nail Chloe than Melody? Plain and chunky compared to a fucking blonde bombshell?"

"I don't find Chloe the least bit plain. I think she's incredibly pretty. And she keeps in great shape. And she's got these perfect little round breast and an ass that just doesn't quit."

"I'll give you her big ass," Dotty smirked.

"And I bet she's unselfish to a fault when she makes love. How else could she keep Melody interested? She's a passionate woman getting off on getting her lover off."

"How can you tell?"

"You should see the way she gets when I describe a case to her that grabs her interest. She practically cums she's so excited. It's adorable. And her passionate nature isn't the only thing that keeps Melody by her side. She's an incredibly interesting woman with a brilliant mind."

"So Melody actually worries that you'd steal her lover?"

"No. I know and Chloe knows and Melody knows it will never happen. I flirt with Chloe, always have, always will. It gets pretty obscene at times. Of course Chloe fights back with all her considerable wit, insulting me to the core. She coined the man whore label. But I think it thrills her because it's something she never experienced, being flirted at, especially by a man."

"Is that why you do it?"

"Never. That would be condescending and hurtful. I truly do lust after her, Dotty. She knows it. I make sure she knows it. But because Melody has had to fight off flirtations from both men and women and from, like you said, a very early age, seeing her lover getting the same treatment and actually having fun with it and maybe even getting excited by it puts her on the defensive. I think she chose Chloe because she feels safe with her. Melody's's the one that could choose any man or woman she wanted. But any of those choices, usually the arrogant and the beautiful who campaign for her, the rest of us without the ego to think she'd be in our league never daring to seduce her, she knew she'd never feel safe with or comfortable with them. They'd be out seducing some other fox as soon as she turned her head. Chloe would never think about doing that. Melody choosing her has been the luckiest moment of her life. She'd never risk losing it. Even Sandy seeing what I see in Chloe and lusting after her almost as much as I do never had a chance. In fact my lovely partner doesn't even flirt with her realizing it would just be cruel compared to my flirting and its inevitable failure to seduce. She does though tell Chloe how pretty she is whenever we meet.

"But the bottom line, Dotty, is that my presence in Chloe's life throws Melody for a loop. It's an ass backwards situation for her. It's the opposite of what's supposed to happen in their relationship. It changes the dynamic one hundred eighty degrees. She's the one fighting off suitors, not Chloe. She's the one so used to it it's become fundamental to her character. It's like a black belt versus a newcomer to martial arts. Chloe is defenseless to my seduction."

"But she's not. You said she slices you open with rapier wit."

I grinned. "That she does. And I'm sure Melody enjoys my evisceration almost as much as Chloe. But my flirting still unsettles her despite the impossibility of success. It brings the jealousy out of her full force."

"Shouldn't Chloe be the jealous one?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But Chloe never gets jealous. She's the secure one in the relationship. I think it's because of the trust issues Melody has. She's probably tried relationships with women of near equal beauty that always ended badly. Again that's why she clung to Chloe and ended up discovering her life partner or soul mate or whatever when Chloe ended up being such an incredible person and prettier than she appeared to be at first I bet. I don't know how, god forbid, Chloe would react if Melody cheated on her. It might have already happened. Temptation surrounds Melody. I think Chloe would forgive her. If Melody ended up leaving her, which I don't see happening, that might be a lot more devastating, though somehow Chloe would survive and probably become even a tougher little dyke."

"So why do you do it if it pisses off Melody?"

"I enjoy it and so does Chloe and like I said I can't help it and ... I like rocking the queen bitch back on her heels."

"So you don't like her either?"

"She's a bit proud and haughty for my taste, but I do like her. She's actually really cool, like New York rock and roll cool. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I used to tour with those types, remember? They're like quietly confident, really sure of themselves like they could walk pretty much anywhere untouchable, but beneath that, they're actually surprisingly friendly and even sweet."

"Exactly."

During the conversations, we didn't overdo the walking. Walking and talking, even for the best in shape like Dotty, can be hard on the lungs and the legs what with all the climbing involved in traversing San Francisco. We would pause our walk during more lengthy monologues, mine most of the time, before starting up again.

We ended up finding a spot in the shadow of a stoop in which to partake of Bradah's fine herb. It also happened to be across the street and a few doors down from the second floor apartment, actually the entire second floor of an old but well maintained row house, like the house my mother rented the first floor from only a bit bigger and more posh, bordering Knob Hill, that Abdullah Baraheni rented and presumably stayed in while presumably separated from his wife.

It wasn't really much of a stake out. We didn't plan on staying that long. It seemed a good time to perhaps catch him exiting his apartment or seeing someone enter it being at twilight. The lit up windows suggested occupancy.

An hour and a second joint later, we planned to take off when a black BMW double parked in front of the apartment and beeped.

"Is that Beatrice's car?" asked Dotty.

I nodded.

After another impatient beep, a smallish, soft faced Semitic man emerged from the house dressed to the t in what looked like an Armani suit and a dark silk tie carrying a briefcase that seemed to have some weight to it, strolled out of the house looking annoyed and climbed into the front seat of the car which immediately took off as soon as the door closed.

"Too bad," I said.

"That we're on foot?" asked Dotty.

"No. All I care about the car is that it's Beatrice's. I don't care where it's going. It's the lights."

"They're still on."

"Yep. Let's go be tourists, Mrs. Johnson."

Dotty giggled. "Sounds like fun, Mr. Johnson."

Hand in hand we barhopped through the old beat territory of North Beach, stopping off at City Light Bookstore for some fun book shopping and the bar next to it for some Irish Coffee before visiting an old strip joint where an amused and giggly Dotty bought me a lap dance with a top heavy stripper, at least a couple decades long veteran of the business, still smiling if a bit worn out. We convinced her monetarily and with some overpriced liquid to join us for awhile. Telling her we were PIs got her talking about crime and criminals in the area, waxing nostalgic. She enjoyed the company and so did we.

"We wish we could take you home with us," said Dotty during a departing hug.

"Aren't you sweet, Honey," the voluptuous woman replied. "But my pussy's not for rent. Just pay per view." She laughed her booming, smoke tinged laugh.

In contrast, during my hug, she whispered loud enough to be heard over the music "You get tired of that skinny little runt, you know where to find a real woman."

"I do like my ladies with meat on their bones," I whispered back, causing another loud outburst of laughter.

When I relayed the conversation to Dotty as we headed to Fisherman's Wharf, I rubbed the arm she punched. "I didn't say I preferred big ladies. In fact feisty little blondes that feel like big feral cats in my arms thrill me just as much."

"Better," she smirked. "At least you didn't describe me as a she wolf."

"You're no bitch, Dotty," I responded.

Too early the next morning I heard pounding at the door of the suite. Dotty and I had actually passed out relatively early, but midway through the night her expert suckling of my cock awoke me and brought me face to face with her dripping twat. After the sixty-nine ended with her cumming, she insisted I fuck her nice and slow. An hour later, my hands gripping her taut round butt cheeks, I finally sped up and pounded deep and let loose into her vibrating pussy, her interior muscles affected by a particularly intense orgasm moments before. Even though we returned to sleep soon afterwards, the interrupted rest lessened the effectiveness of a lengthy recovery from all that lovemaking and all that walking.

"I thought you put out the 'Do Not Disturb' sign," Dotty muttered.

"I did," I mumbled and immediately hopped out of bed and threw on my boxers and spied through the spy hole on the suite door and saw the irritated face of Kenneth.

"About fucking time," he grumbled when I opened the door.

"What time is it?" I asked him as he dropped his heavy bag on the carpeted floor.

"Ten."

"Early flight?"

"Yeah."

"Breakfast?"

"Sure. The Egg McMuffin didn't hit the spot," he told me, relaxing. "Which bed?" I pointed to the farthest door and he brought his bag through it. I called room service and ordered three spinach and mushroom and tomato and Swiss cheese omelets, a pot of coffee and a carafe of fresh squeezed orange juice.

Dotty appeared wearing a white terry cloth robe from the hotel and handed me another one just as Kenneth reappeared in the common room.

"Hey Dotty," he smiled.

"Kenneth," she smirked before yawning and stretching. Both Kenneth and I enjoyed the feline body's actions. "What?' she asked us.

"Just admiring the view," I told her.

"It looks like and smells like you got well fucked," Kenneth added crudely.

"Fuck you, Horndog," she scowled, but ruined the effect by giggling soon afterwards. "Bath?" she asked me after a quick kiss. "They got really decadent bath oils."

"Sounds great," I said. "But I ordered breakfast."

She pouted and then shrugged. "Afterwards then. Gotta pee." She darted into the bathroom.

"Make it quick," I shouted past the closed door realizing the same need.

"Hey Abbie," said Kenneth into the hotel phone. "Yeah, I just got in. Noon? Sure. Address? Got it. See you then." Kenneth didn't write the address down. He knew it already.

I rushed into the bathroom as soon as Dotty finished in there.

When I emerged, I wasn't surprised to see Kenneth and Dotty huddled together at the computer. I leaned my head between their two heads and gave Dotty a good morning kiss. She smiled after it and immediately refocused on the computer. Instead of listening in to their quiet conversation, I went into the bedroom I shared with Dotty and pulled out the clothing I would be wearing that day. The knock came just as I laid out my choices on the non disrupted edge of the bed.

"Got it," I said and went to the door. A cute Oriental girl with an adorable and genuine smile looking young but an air of maturity made me guess mid twenties pushed in a cart with three metal covers and the beverages I requested and the cups and glasses that would contain them.

"Good Morning Mr. Johnson," she said perkily with a subtle California accent.

"Morning ... Sue," I responded with a smile, reading her nameplate attached over her small left bosom. "You look chipper this morning."

"I love my job," she told me, kneeling down and removing a table cloth from a shelf beneath the top surface and snapping it open over a round table and covering it perfectly. She brought the covered dishes to the table and removed the covers with a flourish, stacking them on the cart. Utensils soon framed the dishes and cups and glasses got placed appropriately. "Do you wish me to pour?" she asked me.

"We'll take care of that," I smiled, and she placed the carafes of coffee and juice and a ceramic container of sweeteners and a small pitcher of half and half on the table, followed by a salt shaker that matched the other containers and a tall black pepper grinder.

"Here's the damage," she grinned up at me. I added a substantial gratuity which she acknowledged with a gleeful "Thank you, Mr. Johnson."

"Thank you, Miss..."

"Ling," she told me.

"Thank you, Miss Ling. You sure brightened up the day." Somehow her cheery smile got even broader. "Can I request your service exclusively?"

"That ... Yes. But only until two. That's when my shift ends."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. "Eight hours?"

"Hmm?"

"Your shift?"

"Unh-hunh. I start at 5:30 when we begin breakfast service."

"That's early."

"Not really for me. I started working at 13 at my mom's Dim Sum place preparing dim sum at 4 am until I had to get to school unless it was the weekend or summer and I worked the dim sum carts."

"So you enjoy this more?"

"I do. And I'm taking classes in hospitality services. I plan on moving up to management."

"You don't need it."

"What do you mean?"

"Classes in hospitality."

She giggled shyly, covering her mouth. "Thank you kind sir."

"You're very welcome pretty lady," I said with a wink.

She giggled again and pushed the cart towards the door which I opened for her. "See you later," she said.

"I look forward to it," I replied.

She paused at the door, glancing back at Kenneth and Dotty sitting intimately close to each other and then at me, losing her smile a moment. "Me too," she said, her perky smile immediately returning.

I closed the door behind her.

"Fucking flirt," Dotty chuckled. We met at the table filled with delicious food and drink and sat.

"She amazed me," I shrugged.

"I think you amazed her too," Dotty responded.

Kenneth shook his head. "I still have so much to learn from the master man whore."

"I think you graduated already," I said. "Sandra's definitely a keeper." Noticing his saddened look I asked him, "What's wrong?"

Instead of answering, he dug into his omelet. Dotty and I followed his lead.

Not until after he had taken his last bite, finishing it with a sip of coffee did he tell me, "Sandra wants to fuck you."

"What?"

"She wants a taste of something else before she settles down to me exclusively."

"I won't impinge on your love life," I replied. "I'd never do that to you."

"She insists," Kenneth said.

"I thought she was kidding about a revenge fuck."

"It's not really about that. She wants me there, too. She wants us both there. It's ... a fantasy. She had years to refine it."

"To be double penetrated?"

"It's a rape fantasy, Joe. Two guys forcing themselves on her. She figured one guy she could handle. Two could pin her down and fuck her. Fuck her every orifice."

"Oh." I felt myself harden at the thought of it.

"Yeah. Problem is, if you refuse, she'll think you lied to her."

"Lied? About what?"

"About you finding her beautiful and desirable."

"Can you tell her the thought of it makes me hard?"

"Does it?"

Dotty stroked my tented boxers. "Yes it does, Kenneth," she giggled.

"I don't know. I don't think so. Do you really find her desirable? I know you're too cool to mock my choice like a lot of men might."

"I think she's hot as hell," I said. "You know I have eclectic tastes in women. As long as they're pretty and passionate..."

"Remember Vy, Kenneth. I know I'm attractive, a conventional petite blonde beauty..."

"You're anything but conventional, Dotty," said Kenneth.

"Thanks, but you know what I mean. I know Vy was beautiful. She had an incredible body, too. But most men never saw that. Joe did. He saw it right away. The first time I met him which wasn't all that long after he met Vy, he barely noticed me except for maybe I was rolling joints."

"I noticed your beauty, believe me," I told her.

"But it didn't distract you. Not even a little."

"Maybe a little." When Dotty shook her head, I admitted, "You're right. Vy fascinated me like no other woman I ever met."

"Weren't you still with Deidra back then?"

"Unh-hunh."

"I never met Deidra," said Kenneth.

"Sandy and I thought she'd eat you alive," I told him. "We figured you weren't ready for her."

"Let me show you," said Dotty, hopping out of her chair and over to the laptop, her fingers dancing on the keys until, moments later, images of the raven haired vixen/psychologist appeared on the screen showing her face and her figure and the magnificence of both. "Now, that's classic beauty and irresistible sexiness. And still a woman with unconventional beauty and atypical sexiness completely overwhelmed Joe to the point that Deidra became a forgotten figure so to speak in Joe's life. By the way, Vy and I took a detour from Denver to go meet her," Dotty remembered.

"I never knew that," I said.

"Vy had to. She couldn't understand how such a villainous woman had become your lover for more than two years. When I met her, I thought I understood. I mean she practically glows with beauty. And I already knew she was brilliant. And she defines elegant sexiness. But, as usual, Vy looked deeper. She excused herself and pulled Deidra into Deidra's private office. I couldn't help pressing my ear against the door as minutes accumulated. All I could hear were indecipherable murmurs. I found out the walls and the door had been padded to prevent snoops like me I guess.

"Anyway, almost exactly an hour later as if timed like one of Deidra's session, the two ladies emerged completely changed. It's as if roles had been reversed. The elegant, stoic Deidra had red and puffy eyes and an expression of utter respect bordering on the submissive towards Vy. Vy looked happy and content. Doctor had become patient and vice versa. Vy had broken her down discovering root causes of her past evilness or something.

"They embraced and kissed. Vy was as lesbian as I am, but she never shirked from kissing women. It probably got her the reputation for preferring it, especially because no one ever saw her embracing men. Then Vy led Deidra through to a staircase on the other side of her living room. You ever visit Deidra in Colorado, Joe?"

"It's been awhile," I replied, a touch of sadness from the occasion for seeing her house striking my chest; my childhood friend Micah's funeral.

"She's got an incredible house doesn't she? Very modern with incredible views of the mountains. Anyway, at the staircase hung a large photographic portrait of Micah."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. This beautiful, haunted face hung where he hung himself. Vy ordered Deidra to take it down. She repeated her demand until she yelled it. Finally Deidra removed it and carried it into her private office. I followed them in, seeing the padded walls then which I found amusing. You know, padded cell and all that. Anyway, Vy removed a painting from the wall, a remarkable work done by this Eurasian woman from San Francisco, a self portrait supposedly with like superimposition of Buddha on top of it."

"I know that work," I said. "We found it at a gallery show of Sarah Li Channing's here in San Francisco."

"Sarah Lee?" asked an amused Kenneth.

"Li with an I, but yeah," I corrected him. "The woman actually liked that confusion. She loved juxtaposition and superimposition that has all sorts of reverberations. Deidra needed that painting as soon as she saw it. It was expensive as shit too. It marked her greater involvement in Buddhism. She'd been Buddhist since her mid teens, but she became much more involved."

"Yeah," Dotty nodded. "She had a beautiful alter in her living room full of various versions of Buddha. It had a mesmerizing gong and incense. So they placed the photograph where the painting had been and the painting on the stairway wall."