Prologue

I met the McMasters sisters late one Friday—actually early Saturday morning—when the fire-engine red Beemer Patricia was driving went by me at 87 mpg, going the other direction on the four-lane divided highway. I turned on them and they pulled over inside half a mile, which was a good thing for them. I had a problem with speeders who tried to pretend they didn’t know why they were being stopped, and I really didn’t like those who tried to evade me.

Patricia—right off the bat, she wanted me to call her Tricia—and her older sister Allison were dressed for a night on the town and I suspected they’d come direct from the last club where they’d been partying. The odor of smoke, perhaps even a little weed, rolled out of the open driver’s side window but I didn’t get the sour smell of alcohol drifting up to me. It surprised me. I’d been sure I had a DUI on my hands, but maybe not. Then I realized I couldn’t identify the odor of marijuana anymore either. I sure had them for exceeding the speed limit though—in a big way.

Running radar was one of the things I did for a living. I was a police Sergeant, supervising a patrol zone on the northern edge of the city on the graveyard shift and relaxing by doing a little patrolling on my own. My two officers who would normally have worked this area were backing up some Department of Public Safety troopers on a multi-car accident on the Interstate, so my relaxing was actually filling a gap.

Allison and Tricia were both exceptionally attractive brunettes, they were in my age group, and had beautiful legs on blatant display beneath very short skirts. All of that was a definite plus, but I was struck by the fact they seemed to be having so much fun with the situation. In this state, fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit gave me the discretion to put the driver under formal arrest, hook her up and take her down to the country lockup. The half-smirks I was seeing in the glare of my flashlight were pushing me toward doing just that. Perhaps there was some joke they were sharing that I wasn’t privy to.

Tricia’s grin vanished when I told her I was writing her a summons to appear, citing her for only ten miles per hour over the limit. I was giving her a break on the speed, but she became thoroughly incensed. She asked me indignantly if I knew who her father was. When I told her I didn’t, she began giving me chapter and verse on how important he was, who he knew, and how I needed to call my chief before I made a big, big mistake. I did my best not to snort derisively, and I made sure I didn’t argue with her.

After I listened to what was spewing out of her mouth, I decided not to use my discretion and instead, write the ticket for the whole 17 mph over the speed limit, instead of only 10. The fine she would pay would be jacked up substantially.

Tricia’s face turned a nasty shade of red and only her sister’s soothing voice seemed to keep her from exploding when I gave her the opportunity to sign the ticket. If she wasn’t going to cooperate and give me her autograph on the summons, I was ready and willing to pull her out of the car, handcuff her, and take her for a nice ride to the county jail. She signed, clearly steaming.

I cautioned her to drive safely, and I sent the two women on their way. I thought that was the end of it.

Tricia and Allison surprised me a little more than three weeks later by showing up unannounced at my apartment and apologizing for being stupid (their words) that night. They thanked me for not being any tougher with them than I had been. I never did find out what prompted their, particularly Tricia’s, change of heart. They seemed to be truly repentant, so I accepted everything they said on face value.

They actually should not have been able to find me. Sworn officers’ addresses are, by law, confidential. They aren’t made available to the general public, but I guessed they’d used their really-important father’s influence to get around that. It torqued my jaws a little, but the women were clearly trying to be nice so I let the aggravation slide. I will deny to the end of my days that I relented because both of them were dressed in short shorts, halter tops and tall wedgie sandals.

They took me out to dinner that night, after showing me the receipt proving the ticket had been paid, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. We went dancing afterward, and I more than enjoyed that. The girls brought me home, each gave me a chaste goodnight kiss, and that was the end of it. I thought.

Amazingly, they came back two weeks later, on a Friday night and talked me into going clubbing with them. I never asked how they knew I was off duty that weekend; I never asked. Allison came alone the next week and I liked the one-on-one time with her. She was the older of the two sisters and just that little bit more mature and composed.

I thought Allison and I were slowly working toward a deeper relationship when Tricia began taking me places without Allison coming along. I wondered what was going on, but I was enjoying their company and I wasn’t inclined to inquire, much less complain. Eventually, I stopped hearing from Allison and she slid into the background; I never knew quite why. From that point on, I had at least one date with Tricia McMasters almost every weekend, and had dinner with her a couple of times a week.

That continued for a while and I admit I was enjoying it. The woman was exceptionally attractive and when she walked into the substation I worked out of one afternoon to collect me for lunch, my manly reputation among other officer’s estimation skyrocketed. Being with the sisters McMasters was great for my ego, they were fun to be around, and it was fun when being with the two of them evolved into running around with only Tricia.

At first, I hadn’t even thought of marrying Tricia—a relationship with her wasn’t one of the ways I saw things working out. Tricia was from a world I didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. I’d met her parents. I didn’t like them, and they didn’t like me even more. Daddy McMasters was certain I was sniffing around his darling daughter with a view to glomming on to the family fortune and Mama McMasters thought her daughter was settling for someone well beneath her. Daddy was dead wrong but Mama was most certainly correct, even in my estimation. They were united in a feeling that I shouldn’t be doing much with Tricia except admiring her from a distance.

I was actually pretty much in agreement with the “distance” thing. Tricia and I dated for several months, and I never knew why she wanted to date me. We did have sex more than a few times and we found ourselves very compatible beneath the covers, but not really in sync out bed. To my mind, we just didn’t have that much in common; there was little to discuss over the kitchen table or on a sofa, watching a TV movie. In vague terms, we’d talked about commitment, moving in together and stuff like that, but I’d never proposed.

When she came to see me one evening and remarked, “When’re we going to be married?” I was flabbergasted. I’d been anticipating a break up, and the prospect of splitting up didn’t bother me that much.

I really did not know what to do. To my surprise, when I didn’t stomp on the idea, Tricia began acting as if it was a done deal. She began campaigning for a summertime wedding as if everything was settled. She began casually referring to me as her fiancé in conversations with Allison and other people we met.

I did not actively want to get married. On the other hand, Tricia was one hot woman, adventuresome in bed, congenial, and she knew how to stroke my ego. I felt great squiring her around. But ... marriage? The best one could say was that I was ambivalent about that idea. I never put my foot down and said it wasn’t going to happen, so I had myself to blame.

Her parents gave in and let Tricia have her way. They even set up a lawn party kind of thing where they were going to announce the engagement. Showing how egalitarian they were, they even invited me ... and about two hundred people I didn’t know, or want to know.

Lightning struck. About three hours into the marathon drinking an schmoozing event, I caught Tricia out behind the McMasters’ pool house with a guy. They were not playing pin the tail on the donkey. I laughed out loud, because this was the solution to a whole set of problems I’d been trying to deal with. Catching Tricia en flagrant gave me the opportunity to stop everything dead in its tracks. No fiancé. No engagement. No wedding. No wife who’d cheat on me later on. No more problem.

I answered the quiet knocking at my apartment’s front door. I was surprised to see Allison McMasters standing there with the handle to a large fruit basket in her right hand. She was holding on to a half dozen colored balloons with her left.

Allison was a good five feet, eight inches tall and most of that seemed to be beautifully sculpted legs which she was showing off by wearing a pair of tight, really short blue jean cutoffs and low heels. The thin lemon yellow T-shirt wasn’t hiding much; her hard nipples were definitely doing their best to poke holes through the flimsy material. All in all, Allison bearing gifts was a sight to see.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Chambers,” she said with a broad grin. I’d been promoted to Lieutenant with an effective date of just yesterday and I didn’t know how anyone besides my parents and siblings would even know about it. More to the point, I didn’t know how Allison knew of it.

“I ... well ... thanks, Allison,” I stammered. “I appreciate it.”

She smiled toothily and walked inside, not quite brushing me aside, but not avoiding contact either. She gave me a quick peck on the lips as she passed by. I closed the door behind her. Setting basket down on the coffee table and letting the balloons loose to bump around on the ceiling, Allison stepped up to me, wrapped her arms around my neck and proceeded to give me another kiss—this time one that was smoking hot.

“Congrats,” she said again. She kissed me again, more softly this time, then leaned back to look me in the eyes. “Got a beer?” she asked. “It’s dusty work climbing all those stairs,” she explained, smiling prettily.

I lived on the third floor. Big deal.

I wasn’t going to be on duty in my new position until next week, I had some beers nicely cooled down in the fridge and I was more than willing to share. Everything came together quite nicely. I found myself smiling right back at the woman who’d come to wish me well. I liked her and I liked being with her, even if she was my ex fiancé’s sister.

Later, a barefoot Allison scampered off the sofa and into the kitchen to bring us each another beer. When she returned, she simply sat down on my lap, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. It felt that way to me too. She took a sip of her beer, leaned over to set it on the end table and came back to wind her arms back around my neck and lay a series of hot, steamy kisses on my lips. I returned them, with interest.

“My stupid slut sister took you away from me, honey,” she said quietly after a while, looking at me searchingly.

It was kinda/sorta true. I’d run around with the sisters for a while, then I dated Allison a few times before she had to go on a business trip with her father. Some other conflicts arose and ... well, I’d stopped seeing that much of Allison. Tricia had stepped in to monopolize my attention while Allison was gone, and that hadn’t ended well at all.

I fit well with Allison though. She wasn’t nearly as impressed with her family as Tricia was, and didn’t trade on her father’s standing in the community.

“I want you to take me to bed,” Allison murmured in my ear, “I want you back.”

I smiled. I didn’t even have to make a decision.

“Up!” I told her. I wasn’t going anywhere with a hundred and twenty pound woman sitting on my lap. She stood and I bent low to put my left arm under the back of her knees while my right snaked around her upper back. Straightening, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

I dropped her on the bed. When she quit bouncing, I unfastened her cutoffs and tugged them down her silky smooth legs and off. I folded them and half-tossed them onto the chair against the wall. She wasn’t wearing panties. I wanted her naked, so I didn’t explore just then, preferring to lift the T-shirt over her head. Allison lifted her upper body so I could pull it up and off. It wound up with the cutoffs on the chair.

Allison didn’t have much pubic hair; it was well trimmed and didn’t hide much of her outer labia. I really liked that. Her pussy was beautiful and I wanted to see it and inspect it thoroughly. Spreading her luscious thighs further apart, I slipped my tongue between her pussy lips and lapped a long stroke up and then back down. I gave my attention to the left side on an upstroke, and down on the right, then I reversed the direction.

After a few minutes, I gently touched her clit with the tip of my tongue, just barely touching it while I slipped a forefinger inside her. A moment later I was teasing her clit with my tongue and sliding my finger slowly deeper into her steaming depths. Pulling it back, I probed with two fingers.

Allison’s had two handfuls of my bedspread clutched in her fingers while her hips rocked gently from side to side. I curled my fingers, searching for the g-spot and massaged it gently. Allison whimpered and gasped when I found the bean-shaped area. Her feet danced on the surface of the bed for a moment. I stabbed back inside with a tongue I had as stiff as I could get it, attacking her clitoris peeking out from its fleshy hood.