Chapter 4: The tangled knot

The airline tickets were not cheap, but we were able to fly out that evening. Since I hadn't unpacked after leaving the hotel, I was ready to go, and Gretchen kept a bag packed at all times.

Our flight took off late, as expected, and I dozed fitfully in the first class seats that Gretchen insisted we have. She insisted on paying, too, claiming it was a reimbursable expense. It just might have been for all I knew. I decided to take her word for it. In any case, it beat the hell out of flying coach with someone else's fat ass flowing into my space.

I woke up as we began our descent toward Boston. I yawned and stretched, not as stiff as after the flight to Vegas had made me last week. Gretchen had either stayed awake or woke up before me. I glanced at what she was reading. A golf magazine.

"Golf? You've got to be kidding me," I said with a shake of my head. "I don't get that sport. Why bother? What's the attraction?"

She put the magazine back into the rack and focused her attention on me, her smile too bright for how tired I felt. "Golf is a good sport. No violence, lots of skill required, and luck plays a big role. That, and anyone can work hard and make it. Look at Dave MacDonald from Canada. He came out of nowhere to challenge Tiger Woods."

I raised an eyebrow. "So? It's still a sissy sport. Give me hockey any... Wait a minute," I said with a frown. "There was some kid in Canada named MacDonald that was being talked about in hockey a few years back. I think he was a Dave. Is it the same kid?"

Gretchen shrugged. "Maybe. I'll see if I can find out sometime. If it is, would that make golf more interesting to you?"

"Probably not," I admitted. "I just can't imagine golf players to be a very exciting lot."

"I hear his wife is pretty nice. Maybe golfer's wives would be more fun for you to meet," Gretchen said mischievously.

I laughed. "They're probably as boring as their husbands." And I'm much more interested in someone else, right now, I added silently. "Let's worry about that if we have to storm a golf course."

"Fine," she said with a laugh.

The plane touched down and taxied to the terminal. When they let us stand up, we gathered our carry-ons and went out into the airport.

Gretchen insisted on staying in one of the attached hotels. I weighed Motel 6 against the comfortable rooms they would have here, and agreed. I wondered if Ted, Lisa and Gretchen were making me soft or just plain corrupting me, but not so much that I voiced an objection.

With my thoughts thus distracted, I hadn't paid close enough attention to Gretchen as she was reserving the room, I decided once the guy showed us in. It had a single large bed and was exactly what I'd had in mind to avoid when I had vowed to keep my lust under wraps.

"Whoa! Hold up, Sport." I fixed Gretchen with a glare. "I don't remember a single bed being mentioned."

She smiled at the bellboy, and then looked at me with a smile that sent shivers down my spine. "But Hawk, I didn't think that would be a problem. We're both girls." She fluttered her eyelashes at me. "Surely we can sleep one night together without... disturbing one another." She handed the bellboy a bill, practically shoved him out the door and locked it behind him. She then turned around to smile at me with that air of angelic innocence that soaked my panties and set off all kinds of alarms inside me.

"You set this up," I accused her. "Dammit, I'm already having a hard time resisting your wiles, and now we're sleeping together?"

Gretchen crossed her heart. "I promised not to push, but give a girl her pleasure. If I can't sample the goods, at least let me tease and tempt them a little."

Gretchen looked at the clock and it was almost eleven p.m. already. "I want to take the whirlpool for a quick spin to relax before bed. Join me?" She didn't wait for me to dither. She started slowly taking her clothes off in a way that made me drool. God was punishing me for something. I wasn't sure what, but it had to be bad. My eyes clung to her body as she slowly revealed it to me, her eyes never leaving my face. On the other hand, maybe God was rewarding me. Or both rewarding and punishing me.

I wanted to get up and grab her right there, and I knew that's exactly what she wanted me to do. That bit of knowledge gave me strength, and I decided I would show her that I could dish it out, as well as take it. With a smile, I stood up slowly and started unbuttoning my blouse... button by button. Gretchen stood naked before me, watching with interest. When I had removed my top, I slid my jeans down and stood there in my underwear.

"Shall I get in the whirlpool like this?" I asked her. "Or do you want me naked? All you have to do is ask, and off come the clothes."

Gretchen laughed. "You aren't teasing me. Take it off, Baby!"

I unhitched my bra and dropped it beside the bed. Then I turned around and pulled my panties to the floor, giving her a framed view of my pussy. I expected some sign of appreciation, but not a wolf whistle. When she cut loose with that ear splitting whistle, I stood up and laughed. Turning slowly, I came to within a few inches of her, paused, and then headed into the bathroom. She was very good, but I could see the lust in her eyes, restrained by her will. I had her; now to not give in tonight.

Gretchen walked past me and started drawing water into the whirlpool bath. She sat on the edge as it began filling, looking me up and down like a woman eyeing various desserts on a dessert cart. I suddenly was worried that I might have gone too far, and she might just make her move.

"Down, kitty. No milk for you tonight," I said mock sternly.

Gretchen held up her hands and grinned. "I see you have nipple rings. I considered getting some once, but decided against it. Do they hurt?"

"Only when they were first done," I replied dryly, causing her to laugh "After that, they are really nice during sex."

She looked at my breasts appreciatively. Then she turned the conversation to bath items and the sexual tension started bleeding out of the air. None too soon, I thought.

When the tub was filled, she slid in, and I joined her. The added element of slipperiness threatened my resolve. Her feet seemed to accidentally brush against my legs, but I was sure that it was intentional. I found my hand caressing my mound and had to force it away before I slipped all the way down the slope. Admittedly the hot water made my muscles relax. After twenty minutes, I stood up and started using the shower hose to rinse off.

"I'm beat and we have work to do in the morning," I said.

"You go to bed and I'll be along in a few minutes. I want to soak just a little bit longer."

I nodded and stepped onto the bathmat to dry off. Wrapping the towel around me, I went back into the bedroom and considered whether or not to wear anything to bed. Dropping the towel on the floor, I slid between the sheets, deciding to sleep in the nude. If she made a move, I'd be in trouble, whether I had something on or not.

Rubbing my hands along my body, I decided to take a few minutes for a quick orgasm to take the edge off. I rubbed two fingers along the length of my slit and closed my eyes. The vision of her standing in front of the tub swam into my thoughts, and I brought my other hand to my nipples. Twisting and pinching them, I sighed. The ramp up to orgasm came slowly at first, and then like a freight train. I clamped my mouth shut to strangle the groans as I arched my back and came. After a few moments of exquisite pleasure, I collapsed back onto the mattress.

When I opened my eyes, Gretchen was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, her towel on the floor at her feet, watching me with eyes that smoldered. I jumped a bit at the surprise, and she smiled. Smiled like a hunter, lazy and arrogant in her supremacy. "I think that we won't make it back to Vegas before you give in to your desire, Hawk. Do you want me now? You can have me."

It was harder this time. Much harder, but I shook my head. "No sex for you tonight. Into bed, little slave girl. I flipped her covers down and scooted over to my side.

Gretchen swayed over and sat on her side of the bed, staring at me with an interested look. "Slave girl, eh? Should I start calling you mistress? Wear a collar in public? Let you discipline me?"

My eyes widened fast. This had just taken a turn to the kinky. "Ahhh..." Then I started thinking about what she said and I flushed. Leather I was into, but kinky sex games? "I, um, have no idea."

"If I was a bad girl, would you handcuff me and make me service you, mistress?" she asked in a sultry voice that shot a bolt of arousal through me. "Or sometimes I've found that those in positions of authority like to be dominated. Should I order you around in the bedroom? Make you serve me in private? Or should we take turns being in charge?"

I shook my head. "I've never tried any of that, and I don't know if I'd like it. Let's just table this, okay? I'm asking you not to push. Please."

With a throaty laugh, she turned out the light and slid under the covers. "I can wait, good looking. By the way, I enjoyed the show and can't wait to see you do that little dance under my hands."

I shivered and poked her in the side. "Play nice!" All that did was make her laugh harder.

Gretchen finally let me be and snuggled into her pillow. She was softly snoring in less than five minutes. It took me much longer to go to sleep with her on my mind, but I managed it somehow.

When I woke up the next morning, I was briefly disoriented. It took a full minute for me to remember where I was. A glance beside me told me that Gretchen was gone. She was an early riser.

I stumbled into the bathroom to take care of the morning rituals, and she wasn't there either. A quick shower and I dressed up in layers. It had been cold yesterday when we flew into Boston, and I'd bet it would be cold today. I might need to see about getting a coat. Vegas hadn't prepared me for this.

As I was tying my shoes, the front door opened, and Gretchen came in, dressed in that same ratty tee shirt and sweats from yesterday morning, but this time covered in sweat.

"Morning!" she said. "I've been working out. I missed my aerobics yesterday so I hit the gym. Be back in a bit. Order something for breakfast!" She dodged into the bathroom and I heard the shower kick on.

By the time she was done cleaning up, I had room service on the table. We chatted about Boston as we ate and I started noticing a pattern. She was much more sexually aggressive at night than in the morning. There were no attacks on my virtue over breakfast. I filed that away for later use.

Throwing her napkin down on the table, she looked over at me with an evil twinkle in her eye. "I'd like to stop somewhere and do something that'll set Brunhilda off like a bottle rocket."

I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds ominous, and it's bound to be harmful to any possible reconciliation. Spill it."

Gretchen rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll just give it to Daddy as a practical joke and then tear it up, if you insist." She leaned forward and grinned. "I want to stop by the county clerk's office and get a marriage license."

I raised an eyebrow. "Going to just pick some guy off the street and convince him to sign on the dotted line? That will take some powerful persuasion, even for you, Doll."

"Nope," she said getting to her feet. "This is Massachusetts. I'm planning to have you sign on the dotted line."

I knew that Massachusetts had legalized gay marriage, but this surprised the hell out of me.

"Me?" I squeaked. "We've only just met!"

She held out her hand, palm out. "It's just a license. It doesn't mean anything if we don't get it signed by a minister or justice of the peace and get it filed. It's not getting married. Your story yesterday put the germ of this in my head and I just have to see someone's eyes bug out."

I held her in my suspicious gaze as I stood up. "You're a practical joker, aren't you? I know your type, always doing something to set other people off balance. I should have figured. If we do it, will you sit down with me and talk about your Dad and his relationship with you?"

Gretchen scowled. "He doesn't have one with her in the picture."

"Bullshit. You two could have a relationship that doesn't include her, but it would take both of you agreeing to have time away from her and leaving her out of the picture while you're together."

I forestalled her objection with my hand. "Just let it stew. You agree to think about it, I'll agree to help you play your joke. But no saying "I do." I'm not willing to go that far in helping the prankster out."

She perked up. "Deal. Where to after that? Finding your missing Elvis?"

"Yes, but first I think I need a coat. Let's find one on the way to get your silly license."

I tried to convince Gretchen that I didn't need an expensive coat, but that turned into a whole 'nother discussion when I found out she wasn't recommending an expensive one. The issue seemed to be that we had differing definitions of inexpensive. I wanted to get something for less than a hundred bucks someplace like Wal-Mart. She wanted something more in the four to five hundred dollar range. I stuck to my guns and we soon had a perfectly serviceable coat for me at my price.

The next stop was the county clerk's office. Never having gotten a marriage license, I wasn't sure how many hoops would have to be jumped through or if we needed blood tests and stuff. It turned out that the process was simple to the point of being ludicrous. Fill out a simple application, pay the nominal fee and walk out with a license that was valid after a three day "cooling off" period. Gretchen folded it and stuffed it into her coat pocket.

"Now, we have to find your dude. Lay on, MacDuff," she said with a grin. We waved down a cab driven by a nice Jamaican guy named Devon and headed for the address I had for our Elvis. Forty minutes later we pulled up to a small two story house just like all the other houses on the block. They sure did build small up here. I could barely imagine two people living in them, much less a family. I handed the cabbie his fare and a nice tip. "Keep the motor running and we'll be back out in a bit."

"Follow my lead," I told Gretchen as we stepped out onto the narrow sidewalk. "They might be resistive."

She nodded and we walked up to the front door. I knocked and put on my cop face. With a creak, the door opened and an older man looked out at me suspiciously. "We already have some."

He started to close the door, but I held up my hand. "We're not selling anything. Paul Lebowski? I'm Detective Hawkins and this is my associate. We're looking for your son-in-law, Leo Giovanni."

Mister Lebowski stopped closing the door and snorted. "Why am I not surprised? I've told Marge she was an idiot for marrying someone like him, not enough forks in their family tree, if you know what I mean, but she ignored me. Like she always does. Comes from her mother's side of the family."

"Is he here, sir? May we speak to him?" I asked.

The old man sighed. "I wish he was. I'd like to see you grill the bastard, but he and Marge got all worked up last night when my wife told Marge that some old friend had called for her. Scooted right out the door like Satan himself was right behind 'em. Left most of their stuff, though. Figures. They're probably staying with some friends, cause they ain't got hardly no money till they get work. Even when they do, he pisses it away gambling." Belatedly, he frowned. "Can I see your badge?"

I nodded and pulled it out, displaying it for him. He pursed his lips. "Houston? You're a long way from home, Detective. What did Jackass do in Houston? I can't say as I've heard he was ever there."

I quirked a smile. "Actually, it's about one of the marriages he might have performed in Vegas. I just need to get some clarification."

"That seems a little odd to be a police matter."

"It involves some friends of mine," I said, glancing with a twinkle in my eye at Gretchen, "and my partner and I have firm ideas about getting married. Where is he, sir?"

The man shrugged. "I'll bet he's holed up some place with one of his old pals. He's from the less savory side of town, so I don't know, and frankly, don't really want to know."

"Does he have family here, other than you?" Gretchen asked.

"Sure. His momma lives over there, too, poor woman. I pity her for having had to raise a snake like him."

"Can you give me her address, Mister Lebowski? The sooner we can find him and clear this up, the better for all of us," I said.

"Let me go get the address," he said and closed the door.

I looked at Gretchen. "You think they ran to his mother's? That seems too simple to me."

She shook her head. "No, but if they're short on cash, he'll turn up there sooner or later. Besides, a stake-out sounds like fun."

I laughed at her. "That is so untrue. A more boring time you couldn't imagine. It might be days before we get a nibble. Still, it is the best lead we have. If we don't contact her, they might come to her after they get less spooked." I nodded thoughtfully. "You know, that's a good idea. We can spend the time talking about you and your father," I paused, "and about each other."

Her smile soured a little. "Let's talk about division of time. I'd rather talk more about you and less about Daddy. We do it in dribbles, okay?"

"Deal."

The door opened and Mister Lebowski handed me a torn sheet of paper with an address written on it. "There you go. Would you please give the bastard the rubber hose treatment? Maybe at least threaten it?"

I smiled at the old man. I was right, he was likable. "Count on it. If they call, don't tell them we were here, and we'll have a better chance of giving him what you want."

He grinned and nodded. "You bet. Good luck." He closed the door and we headed back out to the cab. "We'll need a car of some kind. Preferably something that will fit into the area and not raise eyebrows. Let's take a drive by the address and see what kind of rental might work."

Gretchen nodded and we slid back into the cab. "Okay Devon, take us by this address and slow down, but don't stop when we get there. I need to get the lay of the land."

He grinned back at me, his dark face split by a brilliant white smile. "I thought you tell your friend to keep her hands to herself, Miz Hawkins. Surely one of you two fine ladies be de lay you be talkin' 'bout."

I fixed him with a scowl, but Gretchen's laughter took all the sternness out of it. "Do all you cabbies spy on private conversations? Hmmm? You just never mind about us and drive, Romeo."

"Yes, ma'am, Miz Hawkins!" he sassed me, not intimidated in the slightest.

"You just want to watch us make out in the back of your cab, you pervert," I grumped back at him.

"Wantin' to watch two fine women make out be no perversion! It be natural for a red-blooded mon! You two feel free to make out all you like, and pay no mind to Devon."

Gretchen giggled. "You'd wreck the cab trying to watch us, so you'll just have to wait till you drop us off, and then that can be your tip."

My eyes slewed around to her and I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.

"Now, Hawk, Sweetie, I've been a good girl and not molested you, so you be good and help me tip Devon for all his dedicated driving," she ordered with a superior smile. One small step after another, she was getting me closer to what she wanted. Like taking a wild horse and getting it to let you pet it, one small gesture at a time, wearing down resistance and making it more comfortable until you're finally close enough to touch it. These last few days, she had subtly been coming closer and closer, circling gently but steadily closer. I had to turn the tables on this fast, or she would have me right where she wanted me before I made my move!

I smiled. "You're absolutely right, Gretchen. He's been great and deserves it after we get done. On the other hand, after that step-up in our relationship, I think we need to agree to be hands off until the stakeout's done."

She blinked back at me in surprise. "Why?"

"A stakeout requires attention, and we need to be focused on catching up with Leo. If we're necking," I said glancing up at Devon in the mirror, "or more, he might slip right by us." Devon just grinned and kept driving, listening.

Gretchen pouted, but nodded. "Okay, if I simply must, but I'll be thinking about it."

If anything, the neighborhood where Leo's mother lived was even worse than I expected from talking to his father-in-law. The cars were so low end, I didn't know if any rental place would have a car that wouldn't stand out. The house in question was part of a tenement row and was indistinguishable out from its neighbors. The street in front of it had a bunch of younger kids playing ball with a broom handle and what looked like a tennis ball. The next block up, some gang bangers eyed the cab going by with interest, the kind of interest that told me a stop would get me an offer of drugs. Some kind of place to grow up, with the dreary layer of poverty settling on everyone like smog.