Maxine Stone's New Life - Cover

Maxine Stone's New Life

Copyright© 2011 by carniegirl

Chapter 394

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 394 - Maxine stone is a retired Air Force Noncom trying to get by in a small town. Her new life is filled with small characters and minor adventures.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Ma/Ma   Consensual   Reluctant   Coercion   Gay   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Mystery   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Fisting   Transformation   Prostitution  

It was after midnight when I rode the bike out toward the Bluebird house. I traded all my cell phones, for my 410 gauge shotgun shell derringer. Oh I took the .38 along as well, because it is my opinion that like diamonds, a girl could never have too many guns.

Speaking of diamonds, I thought as I pedaled along, I should see that New York diamond merchant soon. I really needed to downsize, I laughed at the though of the blue barrels sitting in my gun vault. My mind also wandered to the other occupants of that vault. For some reason, the rifles I had left on the battlefields also came to mind. A sense of loss invaded my brain and that was a shocker. It was an emotion I would not have expected. I was having a lot of emotions lately, and that was all new to me.

Before I could take a more in depth look at my emotions, I pulled the bike into a closed strip mall. I did it to check for tails. Sure as hell a car pulled onto the side road, then stopped. I took a really good look with that special vision that came with the new me. I saw that there was a single man in the car.

My brain did some rapid calculations. If the judge had sent him, then he had made a lot of arrangements very quickly. However if the man was working for Lydia, he had the inside track. If he was Lydia's man, wouldn't he already know where she was? I asked myself.

The answer was maybe not. We had kept her pretty much incognito. She hadn't had any real chance to tell anyone anything, so far. So who the fuck was the balding man, and for whom did he work? I could run his plates and I could spend a full day having him checked out but at that moment grabbing his ass up seemed easier. Would he squeal like a pig, probably, but I had a hell of a good lawyer.

I waited until he looked away for a second, then I put the bike in a gear way to high for the average person to start a bike uphill from a dead stop, then I pedaled like hell and before he could get the car started let alone moving, I was sitting by his window with the .38 staring him in the face.

"Play nice and I wont reach in and pull your ass out by the ears," I said. "Who the fuck are you and why are you following me?"

"Ms Stone please put that gun away, I need to get my identification out of my pocket." he said very nervously.

"Do it, but the gun stays on you till I see something," I said. "If you think about getting hinky, I was born here. I know places in this county, where I can hide a body and it will never be found."

"I am just going to get my ID card nothing more," he said. While he reacher for his wallet, I noticed the Nikon camera with the long, long lens. Tabloid photographer I guessed, even before I saw his ID. However that camera and the ID could just as easily belong to someone hunting Lydia for a hit team.

He handed me his wallet with a driver's license and an ID car that could have been real or not. As I expected it was for one of the better known supermarket rags. My guess was that he was a stringer not a regular employee.

"Now I am going to tell you what you are going to do. You are going to drive to your motel, or whatever parking lot you plan to sleep in tonight, and you are going to leave me alone. If I see you or this car again tonight, there is going to be a terrible accident. Do we understand each other?" I asked.

"Yes we do and I can only promise that next time I will try to do a better job," he said.

"Well good luck. People disappear in the swamps a few hundred miles from here all the time." I said it as I turned away.

"How did you get here so fast?" he asked. I just looked at him without any indication that I was going to answer. "One minute you are at the bottom of that parking lot and the next you are putting a gun in my face. How did you do it?"

"Optical illusion," I said walking back to my bike.

That was a mistake ... the message came into my mind from nowhere.

So spank me ... I said it out loud and angrily. I needed to get to him before he could do anything. How was I to know he was harmless.

He isn't harmless. He is going to be checking you out as well as your client ... was the wordless reply.

"Well then I'll check him out as well. Let's see what else we can do before he disappears...

I rode on to the bluebird without any more incidents or messages. I picked up the truck without waking anyone. I went home to plug in my charger. I felt fine, but I knew I should be running low. Even on the reduced power program I was running in those days.

I was surprised to find that I was only down 20% even after all that physical exertion. Something was definitely different, but I didn't mind so far. It could be a more efficient free electron accumulator or something entirely different. Whatever it seemed to be working without me doing much of anything.

I lay down on the bed, put myself in power saver mode and just vegged for a while. The next thing I knew it was time for me to get moving. Since I had come to love the hot water soak, I went into the shower first thing. It also cleared the dust and grime from my hands and other covering.

After the shower I dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. I fixed the clean out concoction, then sat on the toilet while I opened and closed valves and drank the mixture that sterilized my holding areas.

After that it was off to Helen's for breakfast. There were a half dozen cops in Helen's sit down that morning. I knew three of them from the old days. The other three I knew well enough to nod hello. On that morning no one seemed to know me at all. I guessed that the Judge really was well liked. That told me something, if Timmons was a dirty judge, he was damn good at it.

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