The following is Chapter 2, Part 1 and 2 of my continuing series entitled "It Takes Two Thieves". This chapter is entitled, "Suspension of Belief". I hope you enjoy it and as always I truly welcome and encourage any feedback, cheers, jeers and suggestions for future directions for the story. I had hopes that I would have a collaborator in the future writing of parts of this story, to work with me from the perspective of my "partner in crime" or as a detective. The possibilities would certainly seem to be endless and I have already received some wonderful ideas from people. Anna The Marine Chick and I had decided to be that "team" but some deeply tragic personal issues have taken her away from here for the time being. My thoughts and prayers are with her and her family at this time.
I am dedicating this latest rendition of the story to Anna.
Again, many thanks to those who have encouraged me to move forward with the series as its truly been a a lot of fun to visualize and write.
So without further delay, here is "Suspension of Belief" Thanks again and enjoy!
“It Takes Two Thieves” - Chapter 2, Part 1
“Suspension of Belief”
The white 2014 Bentley Continental GT3-R sped down 58th street in the Central Park West area of Manhattan, tires squealing, as I was on a mission! I reached over and flipped my IPhone 6 Plus on and synced it with the car stereo. I then phoned my assistant Harper to let her know I was on my way and to begin the work on her end. In a moment, Halestorm’s “Mz Hyde” was flowing in haunted tones through all 18 speakers in the extravagant car. The lyrics and Lzzy Hale’s vocals always made me toss my head back and cackle, my long chocolate brown silken tresses flying back off my shoulders as I sang along;
In the daylight,
I’m your sweetheart,
Your goody-two-shoes prude is a work of art.
But you don’t know me,
And soon you won’t forget,
Bad as can be, yeah you know I’m not so innocent!
Better beware I go bump in the night,
Devil-may-care with a lust for life,
And I know you,
Can’t resist me,
Soon though you,
Are so addicted.
Boy you better run for your life!
Welcome to the nightmare in my head,
(Oh god!)
Say hello to something scary,
The monster in your bed,
(Oh god!)
Just give in and you won’t be sorry,
Welcome to my other side,
Hello it’s Mz. Hyde!
I can be the bitch,
I can play the whore,
Or your fairytale princess who could ask for more.
A touch of wicked,
A pinch of risqué,
Good girl gone bad, my poison is your remedy
Better be scared, better be afraid,
Now that the beast is out of her cage,
And I know you,
Wanna risk it,
Soon though you,
Are so addicted.
Boy you better run for your life!
I was in my element and I was oblivious to the noises of the city outside the vehicle now as I tapped on the steering wheel with my hands in beat with the music. The chaos and hustle of New York City, the work at the investment bank, was out of my mind and the range of my senses for the moment. My brain was both focusing and relaxing at the same time. I had done my homework and it was time for Michelle Quartermaine to go to her “office” and get to work.
It was ShowTime!
Let me introduce myself........"I'm Michelle Quartermaine...and I'm a Thief!"
The American Museum of Natural History was the largest of its kind on the East Coast, the most revered and famous establishment in New York City, particularly thanks to the ongoing efforts of Manhattan’s wealthy socialite class, and some generous contributions from the city’s upper crust or as we call them today, the "One Percenters". I, Michelle Quartermaine, I might add, am one of those “One Percenters”, which probably begs the immediate question “What the hell am I doing as a thief?”
We'll get to that later
Boasting some of the most complete collections of the strange, the bizarre, the damn flat goofy, the “one of a kinds” and the things on everyone’s wish or bucket list. The museum was the hub of academic study into the truly obscure and rarefied (and in my case, the weird, eclectic and the “I think I’ll steal that shit”).
Look...if ya gotta have it...ya gotta have it!
It was the type of place where when you looked up from reading some old book, you might see Indiana Jones himself strolling down the aisle with that whip in one hand and that gold skull in the other. You’d swear he had turned and tipped his hat to you and winked. Artifacts from the terrifying "Kikeue-Nyokaip" tribe of deepest and darkest Amazon River area of Columbia, the actual remains of the pirate ship of the legendary Chinese female pirate "Ching Shih", and many other artifacts of mystifying origins called the Museum their last home and resting place, God rest their souls (says three Hail Marys, crosses herself).
To protect these valuables, the Museum also boasted one of the most sophisticated security systems in the world. Closed-circuit cameras (most of which were so well hidden you couldn’t find them in the light of day), motion sensors, infrared and photoelectric sensors, thermal imaging sensors, proximity alarms and lockdown panels, all setup to insure against the high crime rate of this otherwise erstwhile metropolis and the determined efforts of the best master thieves in the business. Any attempt at forceful breach would alert every police station in a ten-mile radius, along with swat teams and multiple Federal agencies that would be on call to help out as well.
Enter me.... Michelle Quartermaine...
Oh, and for all you Einstein’s out there who think if you have enough CCTV cameras you can protect anything, let me educate you minions a little.
Are you ready and all comfy? Got your notepads ready?
Class is in session.......
With CCTV, and I quote, “an individual can watch a monitor for about 30 minutes before it starts to become part of the visual background. This “suggests” that the person assigned to monitor the system should be rotated every 30 minutes. If not, then the system needs to include additional devices to identify threats (like me) and attract the operator’s attention, such as a video motion detector”
Another little known fact from the Michelle Quartermaine Institute of Thievery
Oh, I disabled the video motion detector part of the surveillance system. DUH!
I also think I can take care of their new Passive Infrared (PIR) which detects the movement of heat sources in the main display area where the jewels of interest are. Those are pathetically easy to beat by wearing a leather jacket I store in a freezer to keep the temperature below 45 degrees F. I can also heat it to 95 degrees F and that also will mess with the system. To be honest, PIR is very unreliable.
Kinda like men, too hot or too cold, they just "fold" on you...am I right girls?
Photoelectric beams are easy to detect and once you have, you can go over or under them. Simple various spray powders literally “illuminate” the beams. I mean Puhleeze! Can they make it any easier?
Contact switches at doors and windows? Are you shitting me? I will disable those with software at the security server. The encryption is so outdated as to be laughable. An 8th grader could hack it.
Such security measures would deter any normal thief. But I...the "evil" Michelle Quatermaine, or “The Phantom Queen”, as my villainous alter ego was now being called, was not by any means a normal thief. “The Phantom Queen” was a name that many said fit me perfectly but I hated it with a passion. I never felt like I was phantom-like. That" name" was given to me by international police agencies (INTERPOL) and if they wanted to romanticize me who was I to argue with them?
I parked my car on a side street behind the museum and made my way to the roof using the fire escape. The night was a beautifully crisp, clear one and the full moon bathed my tall, silhouetted figure as I stood on the roof of the American Museum of Natural History in Manhattan. Had someone been watching, they would have seen this lean, shapely, dark, costume-clad woman leaping across the rooftop much like a deer, running rather quickly and gracefully, with a wide gait. There was something alluring, almost sensual about how that made me feel.
I was already getting really turned on!
Perched atop the museum rooftop, looking out over the wide expanse of the Big Apple, then peering cautiously down through an expansive skylight, I just could not suppress the excitement I was feeling, that familiar racing of my pulse and the pounding of my heart in my chest as I pressed my black spandex-clad chest against the coolness of the skylight glass and peered down below to the museum floor. I checked my Panerai watch and noted it was approaching one o’clock in the morning. The cool night breeze flowed against and over my dark form like a lover’s familiar close caress. I felt totally in my element, totally alive; nothing else in my "normal" life could possibly compare to this moment and I knew it all too well!!
This was not your standard job. This was NOT Company Alpha, utilizing some fucking code-named geek employee who didn't wish to give out his/her real name nor the name of his company, wanting me to break into Company Beta's research labs and steal some new, high-tech contraption or red herring bullshit or some wild-ass secret formula for eternal youth or cancer cure. That was for the fucking amateurs and that stuff bored me shitless.
No, this was different and it was the type of job more to my liking. Two million dollars had already been wired into my account in Zurich, Switzerland, with another million and a half to follow after the job was done.
It was fairly tedious work, a lot of preparation. That honestly was a part of the job I really loved, the meticulous planning. Outwitting security systems and personnel along with staying one step ahead of law enforcement officials was a great delight to me in every way. Call it arrogance, call it whatever you want., I was the best.
No fancy tombs were to be raided (I am an avid Lara Croft reader in case you're wondering), no nuclear powered reactors to blow up, no ninjas to fight (I would have loved that though!), but it paid the bills (I’m kidding…like I can’t pay my bills?) and it offered little in the way of danger (I hate that when that happens! BORING!). THAT was too bad as it was the danger that always proved to be the most exciting part of my job. Without danger, there was no chance of me getting caught. The words from Halestorm’s “Mz Hyde” kept popping into my head again for a brief moment,
Better beware I go bump in the night,
Devil-may-care with a lust for life,
And I know you,
Can’t resist me,
Soon though you,
Are so addicted.
Boy you better run for your life!
Moving atop the roof of one of the museums annexes, my 5’ 9-1/2” 140 pound brunette frame moved with a flexibility and grace unmatched by most athletes. I was in shape, I was good, I was arrogant and I KNEW IT! I seemed to eschew every traditional concept of what a cat burglar should look like. The tall, attractive, lean villainess (I still resent being called a villainess!) that could have made a killing as a model some say. Rumor had it that I worked as a model for a short time on the West Coast. Heaven knows I'd received countless offers over the years to model and other “things” attractive women get offered. But that kind of life held absolutely no attraction to me and frankly bored me to tears. It wasn't for Michelle Quartermaine. I was a workout fanatic and held the highest degree black belt possible in Shotokan karate, had trained with a boxing trainer every week for ten years. I was a weapons expert and a crack shot with a rifle and pistol and extremely athletic. I grew up cushioned by the wealth of her family (spoiled rotten). As sole heiress of the Quartermaine fortune, I could afford almost anything I wanted, could travel wherever I wished to go (we had a private jet), and could live however ostentatiously I could possibly imagine. And be assured no one had a bigger imagination than I did. On top of it all, I was well educated from Stanford, went to school in London and was now a partner in a prestigious investment banking firm.
I had it ALL! But it was never enough!
But all that certainty and security, which most normal people would surely die for, it only served to drain the world of most of its real excitement for me. Normal life held few challenges for me, few thrills. Money allowed me to live an ostentatious, and yet frightfully boring, stale...bland, plain vanilla existence.
I wanted to act out my fantasies!!!
To quote my NYPD police file: "Michelle Quartermaine was a master thief with an almost encyclopedic knowledge of security systems and their flaws and it was this that challenged her. She owned the night with an unwavering and resolute confidence and a laser-like approach. A master of martial arts and a triathlete, she had no "super powers", in spite of what the newspapers say, so she had to rely that much more on pure skill and of course her incredible worth ethic, both of which she had in spades. Already filthy rich, Michelle will purchase all of the special devices, outfits and sensitive documents required to penetrate a given target. She refused to be bound by any limits and uses her brain every bit as much as her well conditioned body. A consummate professional, she might spend weeks, even months observing her “target” for weaknesses before moving in. Michelle lived for thrills, for excitement, and this was her ticket to a world that held everything she craved. Michelle didn’t steal for the money; she did for the adrenaline rush, the heart pounding excitement."
The vast majority of the time I stole something valuable, some rare and priceless artifact, she would give it right back anonymously within a few weeks or less. I was almost "Robin Hoodesque" in many regards and I loved being that way. Many times I would “fence” the item(s) and give the cash to one of the many charities I supported. Many of those same charities were children’s hospitals whose boards I sat on. I would also give the proceeds of my “philanthropic” activities to other worthwhile organizations that were supported by the very Quartermaine Family Trust that I managed. I soon became a real Robin Hood-like figure to the poorer neighborhoods of New York City. This was just another way I got to thumb my nose at the authorities, which gave me no greater pleasure.
Tonight was going to be some REAL FUN!!!
I glanced around the rooftop, taking note of the camera positioned on the other side of the platform from the skylight I was going to be entering. The CCTV camera was a simple device, with a field of vision restricted to a short cone around the focusing lens itself. As far away as I was, I was in no danger of being spotted. My entry plan was well thought-out, and meticulously researched, thanks in large part to the diagrams of the security system I had made privy to since becoming a member of the Museum’s Board of Trustees (I told you, I’m already rich and with that it gives me a “Key to the front door”, so to speak. You’d be surprised what you gain access to when you make the right size donation). Money could get you ANYWHERE and ANYTHING, I had that learned long ago, and no one on that stuffy old middle-aged white guy dominated board thought me anything more than a wealthy, spoiled little girl who talked a lot about change. Oh I showed up at meetings, crossed my long sexy legs so the neanderthals at the table would drool, then I'd fiddle with my black MontBlanc pen, sucking on it and occasionally dragging it between my full lips just to watch the male board members squirm. Their shallow uninformed opinion of me provided me with tremendous amounts of cover. After all, what threat could I possibly be? I was just a stupid silly little heiress looking for ways to burn my money.
Right?
The words from Halestorm's “Mz Hyde” rang through my head again,
“I can be the bitch,
I can play the whore,
Or your fairytale princess who could ask for more.
A touch of wicked,
A pinch of risqué,
Good girl gone bad, my poison is your remedy”
The head of security for the museum was old, balding, and a certifiable pervert. He was a sweet old guy but he wasn’t too sharp and needed to be retired. I barely had to flash any skin at all before I had him eating out of my hand. God I did look good in a skimpy bikini! A few lunches, well placed bikini pictures, the batting of my large dark eyes and I could get all I wanted, when I wanted it. I’d made copies of his keys weeks ago. Getting the diagrams was child’s play after that. It was so easy it was taking a lot of the fun out of it for me.
Every one of the museum’s windows was fitted with an alarm, every door restricted by magnetic key card readers with codes that were changed randomly and daily by a computer software package. Doors and windows were often protected with photoelectric or infrared beams. If it sounds secure, its not, you just have to be willing to do your homework. I had the software package that controlled much of the door and window security and how changes were to be reacted to. I knew the software inside and out. I should know it well as I was a majority stockholder in the software firm and active board member. I also had the access codes and passwords.
It PAYS to be the BOSS!
The central museum was where the more valuable artifacts, art, curios and jewels were on display and it had very sensitive and sophisticated motion detectors, even so far as having them placed in the air vents. Laser triggered alarms crisscrossed the main exhibit room where I was going to be doing my work.
As silent as a cat, I had made my way to one of the domed skylights. The wind howled and tugged at my black leather jacket and the two- piece skin-tight jumpsuit I had on under it. I ignored the elements and grabbed my tool kit and began to undo the locking bolts of the skylight. Once they were free, I lifted the heavy glass only an inch or so from its base and placed 2 bricks beneath its edges to keep it from falling back over the opening. I then grabbed a pair of wire cutters and cut and rewired the wires leading to the skylights alarm system, rendering it useless and giving me a safe express route into the previously thought impenetrable property. I attached my cable and pulley system to the skylight sill and crawled down in the now open skylight, sliding my shoes in the stirrups as I wrapped my tall frame around the taut cable. Wrapping a safety harness around my waist, I pushed the red button on the pulley/cable control box that lowered me to the museum annex office floor (eat your heart out Tom Cruise), a steady stream of warm air flowed around me, ruffling my thick brunette hair and lifting my long dark pony tail up off my back momentarily. The November evening in New York was a bit nippy (I know what you’re thinking so calm down!) and the warm blast provided me with a brief respite from the evening chill. My arousal was growing as I began making my way through the museum office. My excitement was growing exponentially!
Next came the more difficult part of my plan and the part that could break down badly if I had guessed wrong. I had to get up in the air conditioning ducts to make it to the main secure display area where the more valuable artifacts and jewelry were kept. By making my way across the museum in the duct, it was easier and allowed me to avoid many of the security systems and hence lessened my chances of detection. I got a ladder from a utility closet, climbed up, unfastened the grating and made my way into the vent.
I sighed silently to myself as I continued snaking my way through the claustrophobic shaft. After thirty minutes of crawling I made it to the vent junction that I had been searching for. I took the northeast vent and crawled for another fifty yards or so. Finally I saw it, here was the grate! I took my wire cutters and cut the proper wires in the proper sequence, disabling the contact alarm. I then unscrewed the grate in record time, pulling it into the vent before I slid out and dropped silently to the floor.
My knees bent in a crouch as I held my breath, looking around. I swept my wavy dark bangs from my forehead and dark brown eyes and surveyed the room carefully. I was in an administrative office just down the main entry hall from the museum display room. This was the right room; I'd memorized the blueprints well. I was a little uncomfortable by the fact that the fluorescent lights were on in the office. I preferred jobs that left me in the shadows. But it was no matter. I had twenty seconds from the time I hit the floor and activated the timer on the after-hours motion sensors to get to the keypad by the office door and tap in the code I'd stole from the security guard while making sexy small talk with him, the fucking dumb ass. If it didn't work I was going to have to make a very quick exit from this place. Stonegate Women’s Prison was a whole hell of a lot harder to break out of than any museum! Once I was through the door and in the hallway, the copy of the security chief’s key card, tucked safely between my firm pert breasts, I had the last entry pass I needed to reach the “Promised Land”
It was almost too easy, I sighed and lamented to myself, as I slipped deftly through the hall and disappeared into darkness. I slipped easily through the motion detection lasers at the entrance to the main display room, my lithe body moving with the grace and precision of an Olympic gymnast. I had trained and toned my body just for moments like these. The air duct I was crawling through was tiny, allowing for very little in the way of wiggle room, but I managed the trek easily enough.
Less than five minutes later, I was silently stalking through the museum corridors, moving quickly but not hurriedly as II had all the time in the world. I knew where every camera was positioned, what type of camera, the resolution, knew where to stand to avoid them, and thus passed swiftly through the annex towards my prize. Security teams would be on their routine patrols, but at this hour, no one was scheduled anywhere close to where I was going. Despite the initial adrenaline surge, my outlook for the evening was growing increasingly dim as far as excitement went. Breaking and entering was becoming routine and the amount of prep I’d invested had made this job a little too smooth. I almost wished Batman, or someone would come crashing down through one of the skylights above the corridor, dramatically demanding me turn herself in, just to liven up the night. I was definitely in the mood for a confrontation, which sounded a bit crazy but that was how I thought and was feeling. I was a self-described “action slut” and I loved it!
And who says wishes don’t come true? The night was still young after all.
I quietly turned the corner and moved stealthily into the main display area. A moment later, I found myself standing at the entrance of a long, windowless gallery. Interspersed down the length of the wide corridor were display pedestals, capped by cubes and domes of perfectly clear sparkling glass, each one illuminated by a cone of warm soft white phosphorescent light.
As I gazed at the contents of those displays, I became breathless and my nearly heart stopped!
Jewels. Diamonds. Some of the most phenomenal examples of rare gems in the world were right in front of me. Many were on loan from the Paris, London and Moscow museums, the collection boasted stones of all sizes, colors, shapes and clarity. Sparkling yellow, brown, red, green, teal, orange and purple stones glittered in the soft lighting, as she bit her lower lip, barely able to contain her excitement. This was what it was all about and nothing else would do! My God I loved jewelry! It was my vice and I didn’t give a shit. Jewelry brought beauty, money and ultimately…POWER! I loved all the gorgeous baubles and I never tired of them. I imagined one of the jeweled necklaces around my neck as she walked through the Casino de Monaco in Monte Carlo wearing my sexy Little Black Dress. I imagined all eyes in the casino stopping and suddenly staring at my neckline and at the necklace hanging down in my cleavage.
Even as a child I would sit all day and play with my Mom’s jewelry collection, which was extensive as you might have expected from a Quatermaine. I was dying to add any number of these particular beauties to my personal collection, and I just might, but tonight I was here on a very special shopping trip. Attention K-Mart shoppers, make way for Michelle!!
Moving slowly and stealth-like to avoid the cameras, Michelle moved silently down the middle of the aisle, equidistant from the line of display cases on either side of me. I moved slowly from case to case, maintaining my distance from them so as to not take too many chances of tripping an alarm. I glanced at the perfectly printed nameplates, searching as I made her way along the perfectly polished wooden floor until.... YES! I stopped suddenly in front of one of the display cases and walked up to it, peering in the glass dome at the purple velvet bed and the spectacular beauty of the necklace and its gems that lay on it.
There at the center was my “Holy Grail”, the object of my quest. A fancy multi-faceted marquise shaped diamond of the deepest red I had ever seen. It was like a ruby only much darker, deeper and richer. It lay seated in an immaculate gold setting, a long, delicate strand of 24-carat pure gold coiled around it like the tail of a mythical serpent.
“The Serpent’s Eye Pendant”
The legendary Serpent’s Eye Pendant. I sighed in an almost reverent homage. My black spandex-clad chest rising and falling deeply as my heart pounded. No wonder that crazy collector in Moscow was so interested in it. The pendent was thought to have mystical healing powers and was supposed to protect its owner from evil “spirits”. The way the spotlight seemed to reflect differently on each of the diamond’s facets, provided an almost glowing affect. I could almost imagine it pulsing like a little beating heart, a blood red heart of stone. It was the lifeblood that ran through my veins, what I lived for. I was simply giddy and beside myself, as I’d never seen a gem quite like it before. My full lips parted in an appreciative soft purr, my large dark brown eyes soaking in the exquisite and mystical beauty of the pendant. God, I could stare at that thing forever!!...
So why not steal it and stare at it forever?
As the spellbound brunette continued to stare at the enchanting diamond, it was as if, little by little, I was being pulled in and trapped by its beauty and luster. It was intoxicating! My breathing began to slow, as if I was being hypnotized and I was being deprived of any ability to resist the gem’s “power”, its seductive “draw”. The way the light reflected off the facets was drawing mr in, always in, ever deeper and deeper….Sooo pretty...
It was like my fucking Kryptonite!
I approached the podium holding the pendent case as if it were a deity.
Harper and I had hacked into the security systems before arriving at the museum. The cameras and clean room sensors had been easy to get into, even more so for an expert hacker such as herself. She had also disabled the crisscrossing laser activated motion sensors….SHE HOPED! She checked by pulling a small water bottle from her black backpack and aiming it out in the center of the museum display room as she made her way in, squeezing the bottle. A fine spray of fine white powder shot from the nozzle attached to the bottle. The powder would have allowed any crisscrossing lasers to become visible because of reflection off the powder but would not activate the alarm, allowing her to avoid them. It appeared their efforts to shut down the sensors were successful, as the powder detected nothing. At this point, she should just be able to lift up the glass dome and grab the pendent. I was still nervous, though. There was no real way of telling if her hacking efforts had been truly successful.
Removal of the weight of the pendant could trigger an alarm I hadn’t been successful in my disarming efforts. Taking a deep breath and steadying my nerves, I placed my hands on either side of the glass dome and lifted it up, setting it to the side. I then picked up the pendent in both hands as if it were a newborn baby. No alarms sounded, no lights flashed. A fucking swat team didn’t drop down on ropes from the ceiling and I didn’t get beamed to some distant planet or laser vaporized. I slowly exhaled in relief and placed the glass dome back on the podium. I stuffed the pendant in her bag and turned to leave.
Suddenly a light flips on and there sits the one person I almost was praying would be there…Detective Heather James
”How’s tricks Michelle?” she said in a soft confidant voice.
“Going somewhere sweetie?” "Stay a while, I insist!”
I stopped in my tracks when I had that familiar voice. I’d heard it too many times in police interview rooms. Heather was one of the sharpest detectives on the NYPD and she was on to me. By “On To Me” I meant she suspected me of all sorts of crimes, most of which I was guilty of but she never could get close to getting enough good hard evidence to bring any charges. Problem for her was she couldn’t convince anyone else of her hypothesis so she had made it her mission to catch me, hopefully red-handed. She was on a quest and I was her “Holy Grail”. This wasn’t Inspector Clouseau I was dealing with here; Heather was as smart as she was tough. I honestly think another reason why I keep stealing is the sort of competition she and I have. I love going against her and the rush it provides me as she is as close to my equal as any other woman. I know deep down she feels the same way. I know this because it might surprise you to know she and I at one time had a very serious relationship. Yeah that’s right you cynic’s….WE WERE IN LOVE!!
Our relationship was the most passionate and the most intense I have ever experienced. We FOUGHT!…ALL THE TIME!…then WE MADE UP!……GOD did we make up!……as the Halestorm song “I Miss the Misery” says…
Ohhh, I Miss the Misery!
I've been a mess since you stayed,
I've been a wreck since you changed,
Don't let me get in your way,
I miss the lies and the pain,
The fights that keep us awake-ake-ake
I'm tellin you!
I miss the bad things, the way you hate me
I miss the screaming, the way that you blame me
I miss the phone calls, when it's your fault
I miss the late nights, don't miss you at all
I like the kick in the face
And the things you do to me
I love the way that it hurts
I don't miss you
I miss the misery.
I've tried but I just can't take it,
I'd rather fight than just fake it (cause I like it Rough)
You know that I've had enough,
I dare ya to call my bluff,
Can't take to much of a good thing
I'm tellin you!
Just know that I'll make you hurt,
(I miss the lies and the pain what you did to me)
When you tell me you'll make it worse
(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)
I hate that feelin inside
You tell me how hard you'll try
But when we're at our worst
I miss the misery!
I miss the bad things,
The way you hate me,
I miss the screaming,
The way that you blame me.
I miss the rough sex,
Leaves me a mess,
I miss the feeling of pains in my chest!
Miss the phone calls,
When it's your fault,
I miss the late nights,
Don't miss you at all!
I like the kick in the face,
And the things you do to me!
I love the way that it hurts!
I don't miss you, I miss the misery!
I don't miss you, I miss the misery!
The villainous (I already said I HATE that word!) burglar’s lips curled into a sinister smile as she spoke,
“Heather!” “Love!” How are things down at City Hall?”
“Did ya bring any donuts?”
Heather sat stone faced, back in the chair facing the entrance to the main display room her legs crossed, leaning back and giving me her very best Sharon Stone in “Basic Instinct” imitation. She was hot, for a cop that is, which made her kind of bitch actually. She’s also cheap, a lousy tipper and seldom picks up a lunch tab. Other than that I’d love to fuck her into a coma, after I knocked her out that is. Do I sound a bit aggressive? Do I sound like I sort of like her? Do I sound like there is more between she and I than I’m admitting? When it comes to Heather, I am, I do and I do ☺
Heather was wearing a nice pair of pleated khaki slacks and a white silk blouse with a navy blazer. She wore a paisley scarf over her shoulders. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail, her emerald eyes sparkling as in her own way she was glad to see me. I mean how could she not be, am I right? Her jacket was unbuttoned and I could see the handle of her police revolver just peaking out from under it. For her, a rather snappy well coordinated outfit and not normal wardrobe for NYPD. A nice departure from the skin-tight jeans she normally wore although they were a cheaper brand of jeans than I preferred. My jeans of choice are of course “True Religion” jeans. “True Religion”, for denim that feels so wonderful that it makes your pussy just want to scream out and say “God Damn I love these fucking jeans!” For the best in jeans, its true religion, the jeans God wears. Now don’t you want to be closer to God? Well, then try “True Religion”.
For those that didn’t guess, that was a word from one of my sponsors, “True Religion” jeans. Someone has to pay the bills while I write this Pulitzer Prize winning shit! Now, back to my awesome writing!
Heather gave me this shit eating grin only a cocky bitch like her can give, except I’m more cocky than her. Then she spoke,
“You have the right to remain silent”
“Anything you can and say will be used against you in a court of law”
“You have the right……….
I had heard all of that crap I was going to take!…
“FUCK YOU HEATHER!” “You gonna shoot me?” “Because I’m leaving!” “If you want to stop me, try the old fashioned way!”
I had a Glock 9mm strapped to my lower back, but I am sure Heather knew that about me too!
I knew this would get Heather to thinking, in fact, more than thinking. So far she only had me on “breaking and entering” and as far as she knows I just l left my purse there and came back to get it. Besides, I was on the Board of Trustees and who is to say I’m just up here doing some work. Now I will admit being dressed head to toe in a black body suit and a leather jacket, carrying a bag of tools, is a bit odd, but then again it’s comfy, stylish, sexy, casual and hell…its NEW YORK! Let’s be honest here, I truly wanted to KICK Heather’s cute ass! She and I have had “encounters” in the past and we’re "even" so right now I would love nothing more than to break the tie!
God Damn that thought turned me on so much!!
"Mmmm", the wet feeling that was flowing over the soft skin of my inner thighs at that instant, consuming my black lace panties was surprising but lovely nonetheless. I was so fucking turned on facing her. I watched that oh so familiar smile come over Heather’s sexy lips as she reached under her navy blazer and removed the revolver and held it up by her face, holding it by the handle with her right thumb and forefinger, twirling it for me to see as she grinned…then laying it down on the table next to her chair. She then rose slowly from the table and began removing her jacket, stopping and looking at me quizzically and saying,
“Well, you waiting on something?” “Let’s get busy Chelley”
I grinned and quickly removed my black leather jacket and the leather holster holding the Glock, dropping them to the floor. I then unzipped the spandex top of my black body suit, pulled it down odd my shoulders and down my arms, revealing a black sports bra underneath…tossing the spandex top to the floor. We watched each other strip down and our eyes HAD TO BE a dead giveaway! We both came here tonight HOPING this would happen! I step back a step, wearing only my black spandex tights and sports bra…my arms dangling at my sides as my long slender fingers curl and uncurl into my soft palms…. forming tight fists…my long dark brown pony tail flowing down my back along the contours of my spine. I suddenly became aware of other things...like how my nipples stood rigidly at attention beneath the thin black spandex material of my sports bra top, at how much they were tingling and throbbing, and how my face felt too warm, flushed. Worse still (or is it …better yet?), a steady, pleasant throb from my suddenly all-too wet and ultra sensitive pussy threatened to break my already shaky concentration.
God what was coming over me?
Heather began unbuttoning her white silk blouse, slowly revealing a white sports bra. She then reached down and unfastened her pleated khaki pants and let them drop to the floor before she stepped out of them. She stood before me in just white leggings and her sports bra. Her chest heaved and her aroused nipples were already leaving their distinctive imprint on her white bra.
As I get into a fighting stance, crouching a little and raising my arms up in front of my breasts, my fists tightly clenched, Heather starts to chuckle, then straightens up lazily and says,
"So Hun, do we have to be all formal and bow and get into a fighting stance, or are you alright with anything goes?"
I give her a laugh of her own,
"Just to help you out I think anything goes is fine by me... Hun!"
Heather gives me a snarl,
"Perfect!"
And with that she quickly bends over a little at the waist, lowers her right shoulder and LUNGES forward at me, driving her right shoulder hard into my chest and slamming back against a nearby wall!!...
“GOD!!....OOOMPH!”
My back SLAMS against the wall, my head lurching forward, then whiplashing back and hitting it hard!! My eyes see flashes as my head cracks against the hard wall!
“OWWWW!!” “FUCCKK!!”
I see the streaks and pulses of light come across my eyes as the air EXPLODES from my lungs with a WHOOSH and I grunt out loudly at the impact!
“GUUUUHH!!!”
I shake my head and blink as Heather has her arms wrapped around my torso and is TWISTING AND GRINDING her shoulder into my chest hard and driving me HARDER into the wall!
YOU MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!!!
She then pulls her left hand free and drawing it back she DRIVES HER KNUCKLES into my now exposed tightened abs with a loud SMACK!
“UUUNNNHH!!”
I grunt out again, feeling that instantaneous white hot pain shooting through my tightened ab muscles and instinctively raise my arms up high above my head, clasping my hands tightly and DRIVE MY ELBOWS DOWN into her back and spine with all my strength, gritting my teeth until they almost shatter, my tightly clasped fingers turning almost white!! I hear her SCREAM OUT IN PAIN, then a MOAN as her knees give way and she slides down my abs, thighs and legs and drops to her knees at my feet, before falling to her side and rolling onto her back, wincing and grimacing, her face red, contorted as she reaches back and grasps at her back with both hands, arching it as glares up at me, her sky blue eyes almost burning a hole through me with a laser-like intensity. I step away from the wall, my hands coming up and clutching my now throbbing burning abs, struggling to pull some badly needed air into my oxygen starved lungs as my own steely-eyed glare meets her. She raises her right arm and points her right hand at me, her right forefinger extended and whispers in a raspy voice,
“You’re NOT getting out of here tonight Chelley!!”
I look deeply into her sensual blue eyes and I start to think,
Fuck, the bitch is SERIOUS this time!
God Damn she’s hot and I WANT HER!
Fuck Michelle!....SNAP OUT OF IT!
Then as I make the mistake of bending over at the waist and staring at the floor a moment as I rubbed my burning abs. Heather sees me look away for an instant and uncoils her long legs from under her and SPRINGS at me like a predator cat lunging its wounded bleeding prey! Lucky for me I had starting looking up and I caught her in the corner of my eye and nimbly sidestepped the assault and redirected Heather's momentum by doing a hip toss that sends her her CRASHING into the floor on her back!
“UUUNNGGHH!!” “SHIT!”
As she lay there stunned, I decided to go on the offensive and grab Heather’s arm, hoping to trap her in an arm bar. I am not one to stand around to collect my wits; when a fight is on, I believe in a NON-STOP ONSLAUGHT!! If I could get her in an arm bar I knew I could finish this silliness quickly! Heather was once again tougher than I thought as she slowly got to her feet, still stunned. I quickly came up on her left side and brought my right hand up under her left armpit and grabbed her upper arm, cradling it with my right arm and then at the same time grabbed her wrist with my left hand. I stepped in front of her left ankle with my right leg to try a good old Russian Tie. I then twisted down hard with my torso from left to right to drive her DOWN, using my grip on her left arm in those two places as my leverage!! I was basically driving us both to the ground and she was going with me or I’d break her arm! Once I got her down almost on all fours I stepped over her arm with my right leg and now had her right elbow up under my ass and I was pulling up on her right wrist with my left hand up between my legs. I just about had her, as I would be able to BREAK her elbow by wedging it against my ass between my legs and JERKING up on her wrist! This move creates intense pressure in the elbow joint and usually forces a NORMAL bitch to give up (Heather?...Give up?...Not likely!). If she does does not tap out, she risks torn ligaments and tendons in the elbow joint. Worse case I just break her arm, which I assumed I’d probably have to do as Heather was just so stubborn and in general a very uncooperative sort!
However, I wasn’t able to lock the arm bar in before Heather powered out of the hold with sheer strength, LIFTING UP WITH HER SHOULDER UP UNDER my ass as it was coming down and FLIPPING ME over on my back in the process!
“GUUUUH!” “FUCK!!”
I hit the floor hard wion my back and lay there stunned a moment before rolling on my side and shoving myself to my knees, my chest heaving as perspiration rolled down my chest and back, my tanned skin glistening under the overhead lights. I looked over and looked at Heather, who was also on her knees, leaning on her palms against her thighs, grimacing as she rubbed her left shoulder. I couldn’t believe what she had just done! Then I forgot, I had been Heather’s judo instructor when she studied!
“MUTHAFUCCA!”
God she looked hot sitting there on her knees, her white sports bra now soaking wet (we all know what white spandex looks like soaking wet), her nipples clearly visible thru the almost transparent material now with her sweat and her white skin, her wet slick shoulders shining! I wondered if she was just as hot and turned on as I was. I had a strong sensation, and the “sensation” was deep between my thighs, that she WAS!
Heather looked at me, her chest heaving as she slowly got to her feet, wincing and grimacing, rolling her throbbing left shoulder as she rose. She then straightened up and raised her arms up in front of her breasts, her left hand a bit out in front of her right as she curled her fingers into tight fists in a boxing stance. I smiled and began uncoiling my long legs under me, got to my feet and matched her stance by raising my arms up, fists clenched so tight the blood left my fingers, leaving my knuckles a pale white. We slowly begin to circle each other. My taut abs sucked deeply, in and out against the tight waistband of my skin-tight black leggings. Our small hard biceps forming up, expanding as we cocked our arms at the elbows and slowly rotated our fists in front of our heaving breasts. I didn’t waste any time as I stepped in to her and snapped off a left jab, using my longer reach as my left knuckles cracked into her chin!! My fingers went numb for an instant from the punch as her head snapped back, her long blonde ponytail lifting momentarily from her wet back. I then doubled up on the jab and MY KNUCKLES SMASHED against her chin and lower lip, SPLITTING IT as the blood immediately began trickling down her chin.
Heather shook her head and blinked, reeling as she stepping back a step and then gritting her teeth and stepping in, thrusting her own left jab hard between my arms and into my right cheek, my head snapping back as I felt the swelling begin immediately under my right eye! She then followed with a short overhand right that I blocked with my left forearm and in the same motion I SLAMMED MY RIGHT FIST in an uppercut motion into her abs!! I felt my fist sink into the wet slick skin covered muscles and heard her moan, her body trying to fold a bit over my fist!
“OOOMMPPHH!”
She grunted out and started to double over a bit when she hit me across the chin with a short left hook!!
“CRACK!” “UUUNNH!”
My head twisted to the side as stars and flashes filled my eyes! She tried another right to my body but I blocked it with my left forearm and slammed my own right fist into her ribs! Her hands dropped and I drove my left fist into her right cheek with a
“SPLAATT!!”
Her HEAD TWISTED VIOLENTLY to the side!.....her face reddened!.....her features contorted! I could feel my KNUCKLES SMACK and TWIST against her soft skin! Our bodies seemed to collapse against each other’s as we grabbed at each other’s arms and wrists! We both grunted out and moaned as we clinched and grappled with each other! Our NIPPLES WERE STRAINING to poke through the thin wet material of our sports bras! As they finally pressed and rubbed together, I could feel an almost ELECTRICAL-LIKE JOLT flow through my chest!! I felt her shudder as our BREASTS RUBBED and our hands wrapped around each other’s torsos, our palms and fingertips gliding over our wet slick skin as we began SQUEEZING AND PULLING our torsos together! She laid her chin on my shoulder and I did likewise, the copper metallic rase of my own blood on my lips and tongue! Then I heard her whisper over our heavy breathing,
“You’re…. not… leaving… here… Chelley!!”
And the words from Halestrom's “I Miss the Misery” just flashed through my head…..again...
Just know that I'll make you hurt,
(I miss the lies and the pain what you did to me)
When you tell me you'll make it worse
(I'd rather fight all night than watch the TV)
I hate that feelin inside
You tell me how hard you'll try
But when we're at our worst
I miss the misery
I miss the bad things,
The way you hate me,
I miss the screaming,
The way that you blame me.
I miss the rough sex,
Leaves me a mess,
I miss the feeling of pains in my chest!
Miss the phone calls,
When it's your fault,
I miss the late nights,
Don't miss you at all!
I like the kick in the face,
And the things you do to me!
I love the way that it hurts!
I don't miss you, I miss the misery!
I don't miss you, I miss the misery!
TO BE CONTINUED
Song lyrics courtesy of Halestorm's “Mz Hyde” and “I Miss the Misery”
