Le Français
Copyright© 2024 by BreaktheBar
Chapter 94
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 94 - On the hunt for the mysterious crimelord 'Le Français,' Detective Sinead Connors meets financial wizz Marc Fornier. When she needs his help in her investigation, Marc decides that she can pay him back through a little game...
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Coercion Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Crime BDSM DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Rough Spanking Group Sex White Male White Female Oriental Female Anal Sex Analingus Cream Pie Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Tit-Fucking Big Breasts Public Sex Small Breasts Slow
“Before we toast, let’s make sure we’re toasting to the right things,” Jules said, looking between Marc and Sinead.
Sinead had claimed that Detective Xu was the one to deny his suggestion of what bar they should meet at that Saturday evening, but Marc had a feeling it had been some mild manipulation by the redhead. He just wasn’t sure if she’d known she had done it, or if it had been a subconscious attempt to keep her friend at arm’s length from Marc as much as possible.
The bar was thankfully more well-equipped than a dive bar or a chain restaurant with an attached bar area, and had more character than a chain as well, but it wasn’t a location Marc would have chosen to treat either of the women he was sitting with. Let alone celebrate them. While it had character, it wasn’t quite sure what character it was - it was apparently a Rock Bar on Fridays, turned into a Dance Club after midnight on Saturdays, advertised a Lesbian Night on Tuesdays, and a Harry Potter Trivia Night on Thursdays.
How one ran a weekly trivia night about a single series of books, Marc could not fathom.
They were, thankfully, in attendance early enough in the evening that the bar wasn’t yet swarmed with the ‘Dance Club’ crowd, and the three of them had a small table in the back corner of the dimly lit space across from the stage where a pair of bar barbacks were setting up a sound system for whoever would be DJing later.
Marc had arrived early, according to the two detectives, but he’d been punctual. They had been late. Not that he was put out by that, or had even pointed it out - he’d already known they were still in the middle of their search and seizure blitz on Victor’s businesses and holdings, and he wasn’t about to poke fun at them for being understandably busy or delayed. The Detectives had arrived together, coming from their mini operation, looking exhausted but freshly changed and showered after a stop at their station headquarters. Sinead was wearing her out-of-uniform uniform of a T-shirt and tight jeans under her leather coat, though Marc had noticed and appreciated that she’d taken the time to put on makeup and had styled her hair. Jules was dressed a little more daringly, wearing a dark halter top that left a significant portion of her back, and the large tattoo she had, exposed once she took off her coat. It also pushed her moderate bust up into a nice little cleavage, and she’d donned a pair of tight jeans similar to Sinead’s. She hadn’t done any more makeup than a cursory pass with a lip gloss, and her long, dark hair was back in a ponytail.
“Are we in disagreement about what we should be toasting, Detective?” Marc asked Jules in response to her statement. He’d managed to pry a bottle of wine, a basic Merlot from the Okanagan Valley, from the bartender and had poured each of them a glass when they’d arrived, and now he swirled his and drew in the smell of it, letting the fruity aroma settle in.
“No,” Jules said. “Well, partially.”
“It’s been a long week,” Sinead said diplomatically. “But that doesn’t mean we should be toasting to his death. Even if he was a dirtbag.”
Marc smirked a little, letting his eyebrows do his frowning. “I don’t know whether to be flattered you think I can be that cold, or offended.”
“She didn’t mean it like that,” Jules grunted. “I didn’t mean it like that. We’re just...”
“There’ve been some issues in the department,” Sinead filled in. “People overheard some ‘unkind words’ about arrestees. Shit hit the fan in a PR way, and the memos and meetings have been flying around.”
“Well, I may not have enjoyed his company or life choices, but I don’t hold any grudges with him to make me spit on his grave,” Marc sighed. “That does, however, bring up an update on the final task you asked me to perform on the matter, if you would like to hear it?”
“You got into the wallet?” Jules asked.
“I negotiated with a professional to handle it,” Marc said, smiling a little as he thought about how ‘tough’ that negotiation with Astrid had been. “She was able to access the funds, which were ... substantial enough that Victor’s family, and to a lesser extent his Mistresses, won’t be left destitute.” He didn’t mention that Astrid had walked away with almost $3 million in Bitcoin herself, and Marc had taken a finder’s fee of 10% as well. “My friend will handle the transfer of funds to the appropriate parties.”
“Were they able to find anything else out about where the money came from?” Sinead asked, and both of the Detectives looked hungry at the chance of further leads. They were bloodhounds just hoping for another whiff of the scent.
“Most of it, no,” Marc said. “My friend said that she thinks Victor was a lucky gambler who bought into Bitcoin very early, probably forgot about it for a long time, and then remembered he had it sometime in the last five years and added a bit more to his holding, plus several other currencies that haven’t been as successful. He was probably saving it as an emergency fund if he had to run.”
“Fuck,” Jules said, sitting back in her seat and scoffing softly.
“Why is it always the shitheads who got lucky with crypto?” Sinead grumbled.
“Because buying it at several cents or dollars sounded stupid at the time,” Marc smirked, thinking of his own opportunities to ‘invest’ in the market from that time. “And because the normal people who made some money off of it don’t talk about it.”
“So there wasn’t anything useful?” Sinead asked again. “Nothing that could tell us how he funded anything, no hidden notes or anything?”
“No, Detective,” Marc said, flashing her an apologetic smile. “It wasn’t that sort of device. But rest assured, if there was anything, my friend would have found it.” He paused to take a sip of his wine, again thinking of his ‘negotiation’ with Astrid and how she had wanted to put wine to use. “How has your end of the cleanup been going?”
“Smoothly,” Sinead said.
“Too smoothly,” Jules added, and when Marc raised an eyebrow at their tones, she continued. “We’ve been able to make some arrests, and have seized property and records to keep piecing things together for the cases, but nothing’s been ... happening. No surprises, no major busts.”
“Jules thinks we built Victor up in our minds to be bigger than he was,” Sinead said flatly. “And doesn’t think we saw all of the different criminal factions we did at the poker game. I think that someone’s already combed through things faster than we could and scooped the cream off the milk ahead of us.”
“The Italians,” Marc guessed.
“Or The French,” Sinead said.
“Don’t start with that again, that’s how we got here to begin with,” Jules scoffed.
“If it’s happening, it’s probably the Italians,” Sinead argued. “But that doesn’t mean The French isn’t a real person.”
“To be clear, we French are a real group of people,” Marc smirked. “Avec la meilleure nourriture et la meilleure culture du monde.”
“Either way,” Jules said, sparing Marc a smirk but ignoring his input. “We need to focus on what we can actually track and prove. We’ve got a dozen different cases we need to work with the prosecutors on now. The Case might be closed, but we can’t put it away or ignore it to chase phantoms.”
“Fine, fine,” Sinead said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Let’s get some scumbags in jail. I still want to know where those crates were headed, though.”
“And I want to get swept off my feet by- Fuck, at this point, I don’t even know,” Jules waved dismissively. “We aren’t going to figure it out now. He’s dead. And that also means something else is dead.” She picked up her wine and held it out pointedly, and Marc and Sinead matched her before she said her toast. “To closing out our unofficial, unsanctioned, entirely problematic little partnership without us getting absolutely fucked.”
Marc managed not to crack a smile at the Detective being unintentionally specific about Sinead’s current lack of being fucked. Sinead blushed, just a little, but kept a poker face on otherwise.
“To complete our official, unofficial business,” Marc said with an acknowledging smile.
“Totally done,” Sinead agreed, her eye contact with Marc as they all sipped their wine making it clear she knew they weren’t done. There was still a debt to be paid and a game to be played.
It was getting late, and the bar was in an awkward stage where the ‘we’re here for the bar’ crowd was filtering out, and the staff were moving all the tables and chairs to clear space for the ‘Dance Club’ crowd that was already gathering out in front.
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