"Lance! Lorenzo! In my office. Now."

Sergeant Chris Lorenzo cocked an eye towards the open glass door the summons had issued from. "Wonder what Cap is excited about?"

Sergeant Rita Lee Lance shrugged, an action that caused her entire body to move in a way that Chris found wonderful. She rose from her desk and started towards their commanding officer's office. She looked over her shoulder "If you come along Sam, you'll probably find out."

"Right," Chris said sheepishly, tucking his momentary appraisal of his partner into the back of his mind. He followed Rita into Captain Harry Lipschitz's office. Even as he did so, he couldn't resist the opportunity to enjoy the way Rita's legs moved under her short skirt.

"Close the door and sit down," growled Harry. He raked through the papers on his desk.

"What's up Cap?" asked Chris as he and Rita settled themselves in the two chairs before the over-burdened desk.

Harry found what he had been looking for. He looked at the papers he picked up, then peered over the top of his glasses at the duo.

"You recently arrested a bunco artist going by the name of Roland Shelby, real name Edward Green.

"Yeah," nodded Chris.

"A real piece of work," Rita added. "He was running a 'Detective Agency' that purported to check on cheating spouses. Only he didn't have a P.I. license, a business license and his so-called 'operatives' were just muscle. He discovered there was more than one way to make money out of the job. If the partner was really cheating, he'd blackmail them by threatening to reveal the affair and promise to keep it quiet for large sums. If his half-assed investigation showed that the partner was innocent, he'd manufacture evidence that they were playing around. He found the clients paid better when they thought they were getting something for their hard earned bucks."

"He surprised us," recalled Chris as he leaned back in his chair. "Most con artists come quietly when they're caught, protesting their innocence to the end. Green pulled a gun and tried to make a fight of it. Not a good one, but a fight never the less."

"Well, this is why," Harry waved one of the pieces of paper he had been holding. "Green is wanted in Georgia for murder. Apparently he ran the same game up there and one of his attempted blackmail victims ended up dead."

"So what's that got to do with us?" inquired Rita.

"Murder is a good bit more serious than flim-flam, even with Blackmail thrown in. Green just lost his attempt to fight extradition. Two deputies from the Jackson County Sheriff's Office are flying down late this afternoon. They'll take charge of him and carry him back to Georgia. You were the arresting officers so I want you to meet them, walk them through everything and get them on their way with happy memories of Palm Beach."

"Okay Cap."

Harry rummaged through more papers. "Here's the complete file, including copies of the extradition order as well as descriptions and photos of the Georgia cops. And be careful. Green's bully boys have probably fled the area but keep a lookout for them anyway."

Rita and Chris left Harry's office. Rita got her pocketbook from the desk drawer she kept it in and Chris donned his jacket.

"Your car or mine?" asked Chris.

Rita eyed Chris' car with her usual uncertainty. "Let's take my Jeep. We want to be at the airport before the Georgia cops arrive, not after they've left again."

"Sam, you wound me. And my car." He checked his watch and frowned. "We've got plenty of time. What's the hurry?"

Rita smiled and opened the passenger door. She sat down slowly, deliberately allowing her short skirt to ride up her shapely legs. Chris pursed his lips in a silent whistle as it became apparent that Rita's underwear was basically nothing more than a couple wisps of black lace. Regaining his composure, he closed the door and sprinted around to the driver's side and climbed in. Unable to be more affectionate in the parking lot, their hands crept together for a moment before Chris started the car.

"Your place or mine?"

"Your loft. Its on the way to the airport. We'll be able to spend an extra ten minutes together."

"Outstanding!"

The moment they closed the door behind them Chris and Rita were in each other's arms. He kissed her as her arms went around his neck. Their tongues dueled together and his hands found the back of her legs. His fingers ran up the smooth, firm thighs, lifting her short skirt and then slipping under the hem of her panties. He lifted her in the air and she kicked off her heels.

For her part, Rita clung to Chris, letting her body rub against him. Her legs dangling as he carried her towards the bedroom, she freed one hand and fumbled between them, pushing his sport jacket off and she began to unbutton his shirt.

As Chris moved them towards the bed, he released Rita's bottom long enough to unzip her skirt. Then as he carefully bent over and laid her on the bed, his fingers caught the hem of her panties and slid them down her legs. She, abandoning the last buttons of his shirt, unbuckled his belt and unzipped his slacks.

Chris tried to fight his way out of his slacks and underwear. Since he still had his shoes on, he overbalanced and with a muffled cry fell on to the bed. There was a loud thud as his holstered sidearm, still attached by the belt to his slacks, hit the floor. Chris stifled a curse. Intending to check to make sure all was right with his weapon, he saw Rita had squirmed out of her blouse and bra and had stretched out on the bed. One arm was draped fetchingly over her head. The other was pointed towards him and a crooking finger was beckoning him.

"Oh lover boy," Rita whispered with a naughty grin.

Chris had fought his way back to his feet intending to finish undressing. When Rita spoke, he stood still for a moment, his eyes drinking in Rita from her head to her toes. For so long they had fought this attraction, refused to acknowlege it, resisted its very existance. Now she was his and he was hers.

"Lover boy," crooned Rita again and Chris came alive.

By actual time it may have taken him longer than three seconds to get the rest of his clothing off. To the Sams it seemed an eternity. Then Chris had Rita back in his arms again and was showering her with kisses, even as his arms pulled her smaller lithe body against his.

Rita twined her arms around Chris' neck, running her fingers through his hair. Tongues met as the two detectives exchanged passionate kisses. Chris cupped Rita's breast, running a practiced thumb over the nipple. Rita slipped her leg between Chris' and became to slid her thigh along his stiff cock. The partners ran their hands over each other, enjoying the feel of each other's bodies. Chris ran his free hand down Rita's side and along the outside of her leg. Rita slipped a hand between them, touching Chris' flat stomach.

Without losing any contact, Chris rolled over onto his back, pulling Rita on top of him. With a happy cry, she sat up, straddled him and lifted herself into the air. Reaching down, she grasped his cock and guided it to her. She rubbed the head back and forth in her slit. Chris responded by pressing his palms against her breasts and stroking them in big circles. When Rita decided enough was enough and lowered herself onto Chris' raging hardon, he slid his hands down her sides and gripped her hips, pulling her down even as he thrust up and into her.

Rita rode happily up and down on Chris' cock. Unable to resist, Chris gave a whoop and cried out "Ride 'em cowgirl!" She responded with a grin and proceeded to bounce even harder and faster, holding one hand over her head as though she was riding in a rodeo. Chris did his best to buck her off, without actually doing so, but she hung on. And she hung on for a lot longer than eight seconds.

Finally Rita moaned, arched her back, and slammed herself down onto Chris. He pulled on her hips and held her in place as she wiggled wildly. Chris gave another yell and emptied himself in Rita. She released moments later, mingling the two detectives' offerings together. As their spasms slowed, Rita leaned forward, pillowing her head on Chris' shoulder. The duo snuggled together, whispering endearments to each other.

Two hours later, two happy detectives pulled up to the terminal at the Palm Beach Airport. Flipping down the visor sign that read "Police - Official Business", they parked in the "Reserved" area and went into the terminal. They scanned the arrival/departure board until Rita pointed.

"There we are. Flight 218. On time and arriving at Gate number 7."

The two Homicide detectives strolled down the concourse and settled in at the waiting area. It was only a few minutes before they heard the announcement that the flight they were waiting for had landed and was at the terminal.

"Sam, do you think we should have made some kind of sign?"

"I don't think so Chris," Rita replied. "After all," she flipped open the folder, "We have pictures right here."

"So we do." Chris craned his head over Rita's shoulder. "Say, she's kind of cute." Rita made a sharp movement with her arm and Chris gave an "Ouufff" as her elbow jammed into his stomach. "I just meant it as a general comment Sam, give me a break."

"Deputy Pat Morrison," read Rita. She turned the page. "Well, well, who do we have here? Sergeant Michael Gibson. Speaking of cute..."

"Well, not bad if you like your guys tall and muscled and dark," replied Chris, for lack of anything better to say.

"Oh I do," purred Rita. Before Chris could come up with a better comeback the passengers began to deplane and the partners stepped up to examine them.

"There they are," Chris gestured towards a duo coming down the jet-way.

"Quite a contrast," commented Rita.

Chris nodded. The male topped 6 feet by a couple of inches. His black hair was cut in a very short, military style. Around 200 pounds, his body gave the impression of strength. He was neatly, if conservatively, dressed in dark blue slacks and sport coat.

The female was a good eight inches shorter than her companion, just slightly taller than Rita. Her dirty blonde hair was also cut short, although certainly not as severe as the guy's was. She wore fairly tight jeans, black running shoes and a white man's shirt under a leather jacket.

"Hmmmm," Chris muttered under his breath as the couple, apparently recognizing Chris and Rita as fellow officers, waved and began to work their way towards them.

"What?"

"Looks like Deputy Morrison might be the kind who would think you are cuter than me."

"Now Chris, don't jump to conclusions. We've worked more than one case involving lesbians and there was hardly a butch among them. Besides, what difference would it make? They're here overnight, they'll be gone tomorrow, I've got you and I don't lean that way anyway."

"Oh, I don't know. I remember Solange giving you that back rub once when you were hung over. Seemed to me you enjoyed her hands on you a lot."

"Fully clothed, in public and if she was trying to seduce me, well, it would have been with you thrown in too, even back then."

By then they had reached the two out of state officers. The male removed his sunglasses, revealing large dark brown eyes.

"Hello, You all must be the Palm Beach PD officers." His voice was deep but controlled. His Southern accent was obvious. "I'm Mike Gibson and this is my partner Pat Morrison."

"I'm Rita Lance and this is Chris Lorenzo."

"Hi," the female officer smiled. "Nice to meet you both." Her voice, although definitely that of the South, didn't have the deep accent of Mike's.

Rita noticed that both Georgia cops looked them over, as Chris and she were doing to them. Mike seemed a bit dubious about Chris' outfit. Apparently pink shirts were not de rigueur in their department. His examination of Rita was quick and approving, although no more than she would expect of a polite man.

Pat had also looked over Chris. Rita thought that wasn't too bad, Chris was definitely worth looking over. But then the woman spent a bit longer examining her than Rita felt comfortable with. Rita turned abruptly to Chris.

"Let's get down to baggage claim."

"Good idea," Mike said. "We need to reclaim our sidearms. I feel about half naked with out mine."

"But you're cute anyway," said Pat. Rita felt surprised. She had wondered if perhaps Chris was right, but then that comment seemed more like something Chris would say to her. It bespoke familiarity and friendship and perhaps a bit more. She shrugged.

The two Georgia cops each had a suitcase and a garment bag. Mike carefully snatched up the locked metal case with the red "Unloaded Firearms" tag on it that most cops referred to as "Steal Me First" tags. Mike opened the case and deftly passed Pat one holstered weapon before slipping out of his sport coat and donning a shoulder harness. Pat undid her leather belt and ran it through the slits of her pancake holster and resettled her leather jacket.

"So what's on the agenda?"

"Well," replied Chris. "We thought we'd take you on a quick tour of our operation, run you by the jail to see Green and then get you settled at your hotel."

"Sounds good," said Mike. Pat nodded her agreement. "We're supposed to have a rental car waiting for us. How about we pick it up and then follow you out to your station?"

"How about this?" suggested Rita. "Pat, you ride with me and Chris can go with Mike."

"Sounds good," replied the Georgia cops, almost in unison. Rita hid a grin at Chris' hang-dog expression. He found a moment to slide up next to Rita as the foursome walked to the car rental counter.

"I wanted to ride with you," he whispered.

"It will be good for you Chris," Rita answered with a straight face. "You can do some male bonding and all. Harry told us to be nice to them."

The drive to the station was without incident. By the time they arrived, the two females had learned a good deal about each other. Both were single and making their way in a business that still tended to look at females a bit dubiously. Both accepted that was how things were and were willing to go the extra mile to prove themselves every day. Both of them tossed off any thoughts of romantic relationships although both admitted past affairs that had not ended well. They discussed their partners and found each thought they had a great one. Rita told Pat about Chris' parents and his ex's and Pat revealed that Mike was a widower raising two young daughters. They both agreed that maybe someday, someday not being anytime soon, they both would like to have children of their own.

As they pulled into the Homicide Building parking lot and climbed out, Rita was struck by something. The casual tones she had used to hide her relationship with Chris had seemed to strike an echo when the other female officer declared the same lack of interest in romance.

Rita's considerations were swept away when they all entered the station. Captain Lipschitz was yelling for them the moment they passed through the office doors. There was a hasty introduction as Harry told them not to bother getting comfortable.

"I can't believe I have to tell you this," he said to the Georgia deputies, "But your prisoner is gone."

"Escaped?" blurted Mike.

"Worse and someone's head is going to roll over this. Somehow, the upgraded charges never made it to the jail. Therefore no one knew that he was charged with more than Fraud and when someone showed up and posted bond for that offense they simply released him."

"I'll be damned," observed Chris.

Harry pointed at his detectives. "You two hit the streets right now and find Green. The airport is covered as are the highways. He's not the kind to take the bus but the depot is being watched anyway. More than likely he's gone to ground and is hoping to wait it out until the heat dies down some."

Turning his attention to Mike and Pat, he continued. "I've been in touch with your Sheriff and he says not to come home without your prisoner. I don't mind you going along with Lorenzo and Lance. You're out of your jurisdiction but you are sworn and certified peace officers and you can act under color of their authority as long as you are together. Let me remind you that on your own you have no more authority than any ordinary citizen. So be careful."

Upon leaving the office, Rita went immediately to her desk and grabbed the phone. She was lucky on the third try. After a short conversation, she hung up and motioned to the other three.

"We're going to meet a snitch of ours, Cotton Dunn. He's a con-man from the word 'go', but he would never dream of hurting anyone. He's the kind that just baits the hook and lets the suckers line up to let themselves get taken."

Pat laughed. "I've known a couple of those, both in Jackson County and where I used to work before that."

"Oh, so you're not originally from the coast?" Chris noted.

"No, I first started out as a city officer north of Atlanta."