Chapter 3

As soon as Sandy dropped me off at my house by the Ala Wai canal, I gave her a quick kiss on the lips and jumped out of the passenger seat, opening the unlatched trunk and pulling my bag from it. I pulled the day bag onto my shoulder and rushed to open my house door, leaving it unlocked for my companions arriving via cab.

In my home office I saw my message machine blinking. Pressing the button to hear them, I then pressed the button to start up my computer. Booting up took a lot more time in those days.

"Hey Joe, it's Chloe. She's dead. Call me ASTAT."

"Who's dead?" I murmured to myself uselessly. Chloe gave me the code word, mispronouncing ASAP meaning the secure phone calling her secure phone. We'd gotten paranoid over the years probably stemming from Mila's troubles, but sensitive ongoing investigations involving Chloe or me or both encouraged it.

While dialing my humungous satellite phone I heard my mom sniffling from the message machine. "Oh God Joe. I'm sorry. Such a young girl. What have you gotten yourself into?" More sniffles. "Just ... just have D ... someone call me. Please."

"Hey Joe," said Chloe on her SAT phone.

"Who's dead?" I asked her.

"Didn't Jones tell you?"

I gave a dark glare at Drew who had just arrived. "Tell me what?"

Chloe sighed. "I guess he wasn't sure if it would work. It happened too late for the morning news. They got a double for Linda using pictures I have of her and had her assassinated outside city hall."

"Some poor girl got killed because of Linda?"

"No Joe. They faked it. Called in a whole slew of favors. The agent went down, slapping the side of her head with like a special effects bullet hole and blood. Lots of screaming and pointing fingers got the message across to the media and the Fed car sped away to the nearest hospital with her in it where a show went on speeding her to the ER and an hour or so later to the morgue. Somehow they kept the news hounds away."

"What for? Why the production?"

"They got a line from the assassin, one of ours I guess, to Jesus' brother José and through him to the local top man for La Familia and through him, the big guy on top. The feds have José. From what I heard he's a wuss for a macho asshole. They just have to keep him alive and squealing for as long as possible."

"Fine for him," I replied. "Maybe not everyone's been bought by the Cartel. But Jesus Christ Chloe, faking Linda's death has as much holes as a fucking colander."

"I know. I'll probably even be able to write a book without any risk of fucking up the purpose of the operation. It's PR and an excuse for arrests."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they got José on it already, haven't they? And his boss in the US will soon be captured. When José spills his guts, hopefully not literally quite yet, they'll probably have tons more besides the bogus conspiracy to murder rap on the asshole. And then you've got a sweet young and pretty lady being gunned down by order of the big cheese himself. That'll undercut his supposed benevolence in Columbia."

"Chloe. The wrong people will know. We were supposed to drop her off at my mom's place for God's sake. A dimwit could figure out where she'd be brought. Home with me!" My fury focused on Drew.

Chloe sighed. "Talk to Jones."

"I intend to, before I kill the motherfucker." I savagely pressed the end button and restrained myself from tossing the expensive phone against the wall.

"They've got no presence here Joe," Drew explained.

"They may not," I retorted, exasperated. "But I'm no friend to the local drug chiefs on the island. They have an interest in arrivals at the airport."

"So that's why you separated from us when we arrived and had us take a cab."

"Yeah. I better call my Goon Brahdas."

"Hey Brah, need some lolo weed?" asked Bunny my Hawaiian friend, large as a house with just as big of a heart.

"No Brah. Maybe later." I glanced at Linda. "On second thought, sure. But the reason I'm calling: can you check on any interest in me from your friends in low places? Information trading?"

"Got some trouble, Joe?"

"Yeah, you could call her that," I gazed at my troublesome lady. Why did she still look so fucking pretty and sexy and innocent? We actually traded shrugs and smiles, though hers looked a tad sorry.

"I don't know if information would be something we can get hold of, Joe."

"Maybe check on Harry at the airport."

"Yeah. Okay."

"I'll come by in a couple hours."

"Cool Brah. Laters." And we hung up.

"Can I use that?" asked Drew.

"Use the SAT phone," I suggested, sitting at the desk and going online.

"Good idea," said the special agent.

I had several emails, but only two took my interest. I decided to wait on communications with Kenneth which would probably take awhile and bit the bullet and sent an apology to Mila pissed that I hadn't swung by her place or at least called her when I had been in her vicinity. I wrote her I'd been working and I'd make it up to her as soon as possible.

As expected, bringing up Kenneth's email brought up several attachments.

"Call me as soon as you read through this," he wrote. "Don't worry about time. Stuff on Bostwitch and Baraheni and the software start-up. It's weak and curious especially financially. Thought about that Iranian connection and got some weird hits on the partner's family vis a vis Persian and South America. Not much on José lately which is curious and points to some heavy secret goings on with our FED friends. {K}

"ps: sorry about the cutie but told you she was trouble."

I started with the last attachment he got from the Chronicle pre-publication, a view of the fake murder showing pandemonium. A bare glimpse of the wound looked semi-gruesome and convincing.

The stuff on the Baraheni family showed speculative guesses on the part of newspapers in New York and in Columbia (via rough translation) of their continued involvement, post Persian smack, in the heroin trade. The source of reports on them scared me. CIA probably. Kenneth always surprised me (still does). The Baraheni family were definitely in the vicinity of the cartels trading drugs for drugs using the particular distribution strengths of each. No busts made me curious if they were also trading intel for get out of jail cards.

I disagreed about the potential of the software start-up since it dealt with medical issues, a profitable target area. The partners designed a sort of prognosis device in which symptoms could be entered and various prognoses popped out even with symptomatic pictures of skin and organs and even cells relating to the diseases. Looking at the numbers though, it definitely showed too much money coming in for such a new and specific product.

"Laundering," I thought to myself.

The new company did good promotional work for itself. Reports on them skewed intensely positive. The pictures showed Ray Bostwitch to definitely be the face of the company. Only one photo showed Abdullah, and he looked weak and plain compared to his handsome and charismatic partner. Interestingly, the photo with Abdullah also included a third partner, also Iranian and stunningly beautiful who had Baraheni's last name but a less Middle Eastern first name of Beatrice. The caption reported her to be Abdullah's wife. Most interestingly though, the picture revealed a loving glance not at her husband but at Bostwitch.

Résumés showed Bostwitch and both Barahenis at NYU where they presumably met. Bostwitch studied computer science while the Iranians studied chemistry (Abdullah) and biology (Beatrice). They all changed coasts for graduate school at Stanford with Bostwitch working on masters in both business and computers while future husband and wife studied chemical engineering and biochemistry respectively. I couldn't help but laugh in amazement that the couple got press by marrying in HAZMAT suits. The small article mentioned they took pride in their dangerous but ultimately life saving work in those suits. "Besides," Abdullah commented, "being inside these cumbersome things gives me insights into improving them."

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed and immediately called Kenneth via his particular secure line through the internet that bounced the signal all over the world and was virtually untraceable. It even sensed bugging.

"I'm sorry to hear about Linda," he immediately told me.

"Don't be. It's another one of those Mila things."

"Oh. So..."

"Yeah, she's here in Waikiki with me."

"Joe."

"I know. Anyway, have you checked into patents filed by Abdullah?"

"Yeah, but they're either coauthored by Bostwitch or just under the dead guy's name. Just proprietary software. Nothing all that interesting. I could write his code in my sleep."

"How about Beatrice?"

Kenneth laughed. "I thought she'd catch your attention."

"Fine. She's gorgeous. So? Patents? Maybe a new and improved HAZMAT suit?"

"Fuck. How'd I miss that?"

"And check on her and Abdullah's marital status."

"You suspect a triangle caused the death?"

"Among other things. And find out anything you can on the postmortem of Rocky, the glitter rock bassist. Eddie Kline. Oh, and what about Bostwitch's post mortem?"

"You know his throat was cut and what knife was used."

"I want to know how deep it went. How passionate was the fucker?"

"Got it boss."

"How soon on the patent."

"Got it. Sending it now."

"You're scary smart Kenneth."

"Of course. Just watch your back with the girl, okay?"

"I always do."

"Right."

"Fuck you. And thanks."

"You're welcome. And call Mila. She's pissed."

"I know. I got her email."

"Call her."

"I will."

He disconnected.

"Dagmar?"

"Hunh?" she grinned at the name. "Am I Dagmar now?"

"You're definitely not Linda anymore."

"I ... I guess not."

"Does this look familiar?" I showed her the patent drawings. Most helpful, there was an inset picture of someone (Abdullah I assumed) wearing the newfangled HAZMAT suit.

"Holy shit!" she said.

I decided to nap and Dagmar napped with me. She or I could have pulled open the couch bed in my office, Drew taking my guest room, but Dagmar needed cuddling and I'm a good cuddler.

I woke up with a hard-on and wet heat surrounding it. Apparently she had unzipped me and pulled out my morning wood and suckled it to full tumescence.

Detaching her mouth from it with a wet pop, she grinned up at me.

"Good. You're awake," she murmured throatily and immediately straddled me and guided my cock inside her ready pussy. A tight entryway for my thickness, it proved slick enough for her to bury me deep inside her with one slow, easy descent.

"God. So good," she murmured, only pausing for a second before lifting and lowering her ass, bouncing against my pelvis with a muffled slap as she immediately rode me at full gallop. Stroking her clit with one hand, her other hand pleasured her nipples beneath her unbuttoned shirt. I just lay back and watched her get herself off on me. When she stilled and quietly whined, her pretty face going taut with ecstasy, the rippling around my cock of her orgasm somehow seemed to pull my own orgasm out of nowhere and it turned out to be just as intense as hers seemed to be.

"Fuck," I moaned quietly, undulating upwards with each ejaculation.

Eventually climaxes faded and she collapsed onto my clothed torso. "Thanks," she murmured.

"My pleasure," I chuckled before reality struck. "You rode me bareback. You on the pill?"

"Shit," she said.

"Tested for STDs?"

"No," she admitted.

"Shit," I said. "Come on."

Zipping up, I led her into the bathroom, her naked lower half partially covered by the tails of her man's white dress shirt. We stripped naked and showered together, concentrating on cleaning each other's genitalia. It brought me to half hardness in an automatic physical reaction.

"I ... I make them wear condoms," said Dagmar, the first words spoken since bed, and only spoken after I shut off the water.

"Even Rocky?" I asked her, handing her a towel.

"Especially Rocky except when he buggered me. He prefers it bareback and it was the only consolation I gave him. That I like anal sex made it not a problem."

"And Bostwitch?"

"I ... I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?"

She sniffled. "No. I am sure. I'm always sure. But I was fucking horny. So was he. He nailed me as I leaned over for the lines. He'd fingered me on the way to his apartment, had me remove my panties. It felt so good, but I stopped him from continuing and told him to hand me my purse and I insisted he slip on a condom only then."

"That might have helped keep you from getting pregnant, and lessened the chance for contracting something, but..."

"Yeah."

"And others?"

"I'm such a mess, Joe," she sniffled. "Such a fucking mess. All I seem to care about is getting fucked up and getting fucked. But, like I told you before, no matter how wasted I get, I am cognizant of the world around me. But getting wasted definitely loosens my defenses and unleashes my horniness, a bad combination. So I get stupid. I always end up getting stupid. Almost always though I get them jacketed."

"Almost always?"

"If not I make them pull out and cum on me or in my mouth. Swallowing their cum makes them more accepting of keeping them from shooting seed inside me. It's only a couple time I've let them fuck me without protection."

"A couple times?"

"Okay, maybe three or four. No more than four."

"Including me?"

"Okay, five."

"Shit. Hurry and get dressed."

"Where are we going?"

"To get tested. And to get you a morning after pill."

"No."

"No?"

"Yes to getting tested. No to the pill. It makes me really sick."

"Better than nine months of pregnancy or an abortion."

"I'd rather have an abortion than take that pill, except I won't."

"Why not? You don't strike me as being particularly religious."

"I've had an abortion during my college days. But I would never abort your child."

I sighed. "And why would that be?"

Her eyes stayed focused on putting the belt through the loops of her jeans, and she did it very slowly. "I ... I want to grow up Joe. I want to take responsibility for my life for once. I don't want to be a fuck up anymore. And ... I want ... to raise a child. Your child, Joe." She finally finished buckling her belt and looked at me, surprising determination on her face. "I think we'd make an awesome baby."

"I like you, Dagmar, despite you being more trouble than just about anyone I've ever met. But I definitely don't see a future for us together. I definitely don't love you."

She grinned. She had a really cute grin. "Not even a little?"

I chuckled. "Maybe a little. I do think you're lovely, and your company never lacks for interest."

"I like being with you too. But I'm not asking for commitment. Maybe just keeping some kind of friendship, and if I do conceive with you, you keeping tabs on me and the baby."

"So that little stunt of unprotected sex..."

"I want more of it. But of course I did it fucked up even if I'm horribly sober. I have no symptoms of STDs, so I'm pretty sure I'm safe, but..."

"Not sure enough..."

She hung her head in guilt. "Yeah."

"Let's make sure."

As we headed out of the bedroom I noticed Drew still on my satellite phone.

Driving towards downtown Honolulu, headed for the clinic I used and the long, lean, lovely Chinese-American doctor I also used occasionally, and she used me even more so to relieve tensions her rather cold Chinese husband rarely did, I asked my pretty, dark and short haired companion, "What would you do as a single mother?"

"I really don't see it as a problem," she told me. "A writer is a solitary life. I can keep my attention to a baby while tapping out articles."

"But what about the research involved?"

"I can do interviews with the baby at hand," she answered. "And any shows I attend I can have someone babysit, Chloe for instance."

"So you'd settle down in San Francisco?"

"Unh-hunh. With those assholes no longer after me, I can settle down. And I love San Francisco. And it will make it easier to meet with Rolling Stone."

"So you'll be a staff writer there?"

She nodded. "They love my stuff."

"Not just your cocaine?"

"Fuck you," she said. Minutes later, she amended, "I hope not."

"Is there a stash?"

"I'm not going to use it anymore. I don't want to use it anymore."

"Yes you do."

"I want not to want to," she said.

"Did you stash it at Chloe's?" I asked her.

She took too long before responding, "Why do you think I have any cocaine?"

"Shit," I thought. "I should have wrestled the SAT phone from Drew."

Since we didn't have an appointment we had to wait until Dr Tang finished with her last patient. Fortunately we arrived late in the day, so it wasn't more than an hour before we were seen. Her nurse, a gay and fruity male who flirted with me almost as much as Helena Tang did, weighed us and checked out our blood pressure and pulse while we waited. I kept my eye on Dagmar at all times.

When the waiting room emptied and the last patient left the clinic, Helena dismissed her staff. Every glance she gave me told me she needed relief. It had been awhile. I surprised her when I accompanied Dagmar into the examination room. "Flight risk," I explained to her while kissing her ear.

"You and your PI shit," she said, kissing my ear.

"Go ahead and sit on the bed," I told Dagmar. She looked at the authority there, the doctor, who shrugged. Dagmar sat. I immediately pulled out my handcuffs and attached them to her wrist and to a metal tube on the bed.

"Shit," said Dagmar. "I'm not going anywhere."

I kissed her forehead despite her fierce stare and replied, "No you're not." Looking around, I found a couple months old Vanity Fair magazine and tossed it on the bed. "Keep yourself occupied. We may be a little while." I kissed the doctor, surprising both her and Dagmar, but Helena quickly returned my passion.

I didn't expect the chuckle coming from the bed while I kissed the lovely doctor. "Chloe told me you're a man whore," said Dagmar.

"I prefer to call him a male companion," said Helena breathlessly but with a giggle. "Come on, stud," She pulled me out of the room.

"If she only knew," I thought. After doing stud service for my father with Kim, my ex-lover and my step mother producing a lovely future heartbreaker named Cathy, my half sister officially, not to mention Mila's cutie Livy (as in Olivia after Vy's real name), it seemed my services were once more in demand with Dagmar.

Pulling me into an exam room farthest from Dagmar's, Helena immediately stripped off my t-shirt and knelt at my feet to unleash my cock which she caught with her hand when it bounced out and brought it to her hungry mouth. Before I removed her clinical jacket, she pulled out a condom packet from its pocket and placed it beside me on the bed. Her burgundy blouse and her black bra soon joined the jacket on the desk, revealing her buoyant breasts from the b cups. Helena always dressed well.

She stood, all 5 feet 10 of her, and unzipped her mid calf length pleated violet skirt, letting it pool at her feet, followed by her bikini cut panties that matched her bra. Leaving her sensible white shoes on, along with keeping my lower legs bound by my khaki slacks, my tennis shoes preventing their removal, she guided me onto my back and climbed onto the narrow examining bed and lowered her juicy pussy crowned by a manicured thatch of black hair onto my waiting mouth. Her mouth returned to its task, although with less enthusiasm and more distraction as I made love to her sweet and fragrant cunt.

She liked a slow build with lots of teasing to bring out the greatest orgasm possible. Once she had taught me her desires during her first seduction of me, I can proudly say I never disappointed her. Since I had cum inside Dagmar not long before, I didn't worry about having her take the edge off. If I had worried, I'd have told her to make me cum in her mouth. We enjoyed conversations afterwards when we had a little time, but before and during, those would be the only words communicated.

I kissed and licked and stroked her thighs, closing in on her pussy lips. I reached them and suckled them and circled around the weeping hole, only touching her expanding clit with brief teases. My tongue went deeper and deeper with every circle of her hole until I shoved it in as deep as possible and fucked her with it as my chin made first real contact with her clit, pressing against it. Her moans and shivers and the hint of teeth against my shaft told me she neared orgasm. Wetting my middle and pointing finger in my mouth, I replaced my tongue with them and found the texture of her g-spot and rubbed while my mouth suckled her clit and my tongued dabbed at it.

Feeling the cool air of the examination room on my cock, I soon felt the squeeze of her fingers as she rolled on the condom. My arms hugged around her subtly curved waist and pulled her onto our sides until we maneuvered ourselves with her on her back. With great care, I turned around and knelt between her legs and held my cock, placing at her needy pleasure center and pushed.

"Yes!" she moaned as I pulled back and pushed deeper. Her dark wide eyes looked wild with desire.

"Mmm," she hummed against my lips as my tongue filled her mouth. Resting on my elbows, my fingers squeezed her breasts and twisted her nipples. When my thrusts quickened and her upward thrusts met mine and tended to speed mine up, my tongue copied the lower thrusts. Soon she bent her head back away from my mouth as her breath heaved and gasped, freeing me to replace one of my hands with my lips on a tit and, when I felt her reaching orgasm, my teeth on her nipple.

"Aiieee!" she screamed while arching against my continued battering of her cunt. I saw her blush all the way from forehead to chest. My relentlessness elongated her orgasm.

When it finally abated she grabbed and pulled my buttocks against her to cease my savage thrusts. Then she backed up, letting my cock out, and turned over and lifted her fine oval butt cheeks high. I got the hint.

I lined back up and entered her with one smooth thrust. One hand grabbed a hanging tit while the other reached around to test the sensitivity of her clit. Her moans and her stillness told me she could take it. I rubbed the clit and mauled her nipples while I returned to hard fast thrusts, seeking my own release since she had gotten hers in spades.

It may have been my turn to let loose, but since it took awhile and my fingers aided her pleasure, she found a second orgasm overtaking her. That gave me permission to let go of nipple and clit and grip her hips and pound into her even harder and faster and deeper. So while she shivered within her orgasm, I shafted through it until I found mine.

"Mmm," she murmured as I unleashed my cum into the protective jacket, feeling the remnants of her past orgasm still shimmering around my throbs of release.

I collapsed onto her long back and she collapsed beneath me, both of us catching our breaths.

"Thanks. I really needed that," she murmured.

"I could tell," I murmured back. "But why me? Why inconvenience yourself by waiting?"

She reached back and held the condom against my dwindling prick as I extracted it from her warm and wet depths. Turning under me, she pulled my lips to hers for a hot and quiet and brief kiss. Her eyes, kind and intelligent and warm, looked into mine.

"You're the only one I can trust, Joe," she explained. "My husband knows about you. He knows my need and his lack of fulfillment of it. I even know he hires whores for his occasional need."

"That's crazy," I tell her. "You're beautiful and sexy."

"Thanks Joe," she grinned, kissed me and then shrugged. "He's got a weak libido, unlike me. He needs something new I guess whenever he gets the least bit horny. Men need their variety. You're a perfect example of that. But I just can't be seducing any of my circle of friends or colleagues. Especially colleagues. Not only are they cocksure and arrogant, at least any potential sex partners, because the good ones, the more humble ones, have their wives and I would never get between them even if I could, but they'd tell tales which would be a very big mistake."

"Like a bunch of high school braggarts," I frowned.

"Those assholes never grow up. No Joe, you're the only one. You're the only one unmarried, in no exclusive relationship that would potentially hurt the woman. At least I hope not. Not to mention you have skills. You always manage to sate my needs."

I suppose I could get a bit guilty, fucking another man's wife or girlfriend. It had happened with others, Dotty, Vy's gorgeous blonde band mate comes to mind. And yet I felt only the barest twinge of guilt. I think it comes down to the fact that I never stole any woman away from her mate. I had no interest in making them my mate. I served a sort of function for them. In Helena's case, I sated the libido that her husband never sated. It wasn't love, especially for Helena. Although, even with Helena, I never could quite be purely a stud without emotions. I loved the women I fucked to some degree or other. And yet, especially with Helena, I did serve as a sort of man whore. I could be used like a prostitute to relieve a woman's needs, and then they could walk away or I could walk away without any burden of love.

Helena seemed to read something in my silent expressions in response to her little speech. "It's not that I think I'm better than you," she said, "more moral or whatever, in that I choose my extramarital lover to be unmarried and not in a relationship while I guess you are fucking a married woman."

"I don't feel slighted," I told her. "I could always tell you had a need for some good fucking, whatever the reason might have been. Maybe because I never sensed any guilt from it, I figured I wasn't damaging your relationship with your husband."

She chuckled. "Quite the opposite actually. So what is it about the girl handcuffed to the examination table that you expose her to our naughtiness?"

I sighed. "I'm afraid she might want to clutch on to me as a mate or something. She told me she wants my baby."

"Ah," Helena giggled. "I'm being used as an alienator of affections."

I nodded. "I hope you don't mind."

"Actually it was a bit of a rush when you came on to me in front of her. It amplified my horniness."

"So you're an unrequited exhibitionist."

"Perhaps," she grinned. "Unrequited being the key word. It's not like I can take the chance of fucking you outdoors in front of God and the world."

"I can tell you wish you could," I chuckled, feeling her rub her heated pussy against my thigh.

"Mmm," she replied. "But she seems a bit wild to settle down. Perhaps it's the baby and not you she desires."

"Perhaps," I sighed.

"Joe the stud," she chuckled, giving me a brief kiss before rolling off the bed/table.

"If she only knew," I thought again.

We got dressed. "The key," said Helena.

I handed her the small key for the cuffs.

After we had both been examined and given samples of blood and urine, and Dagmar watched with amusement my embrace of Helena, giving the tall Chinese beauty a warm and lengthy kiss with tongue and pulling her loins against my groin with two groping hands on her buttocks, my troublemaking short haired brunette chuckled. "You didn't need to do that," Dagmar told me as we exited the clinic, Helena locking the door behind us. "I already knew you were a man whore."

"I guess I am," I smiled.

"I don't want your body and soul, Joe. I just want your sperm."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I want to be serious with my life. I got a major wake-up call."

"So you think Chloe would help you with a baby?" I asked her once we'd settled into my car.

"Uhm ... That I'm not so sure about."

"She doesn't seem the maternal type," I agreed.

"More paternal," she acknowledged and we shared a chuckle. "It's Melody who'd be maternal except..."

"Except?"

"She hates my guts, Joe. Chloe's beautiful lover hates my guts."

"Yeah," I said.

We headed to the Brahdas' house. As expected, those two goon looking but incredibly sweet and funny native Hawaiians relaxed Dagmar more than I ever saw her relax. The excellent hash buds we shared might have helped, but it was more their overwhelming sense of humor and complete laid back character.

"Anything from Harry?" I asked them early in our visit.

"Nada, Brah," said Bunny while the quiet Manny shook his head.

The quiet one took me aside at one point while his Brahda amused Dagmar. "I kinda see you're concern, Brah."

"Yeah. She's trouble."