A Story of Scars
"She shoots, she scores," whispered Alicia to herself after another successful pick. She had snagged both a wallet and pocket-watch of her mark after doing the old "accidental bump" ploy. It was a little ham-handed for a pickpocket artist such as herself, but it was getting late and she was getting hungry.
Alicia had been working that area of town since she was fifteen years old. At the time, she was a product of a child-fostering government system that had long since broken down. The foster family she had been placed with were a bunch of drunken louts at the best of times, and she had run away when she felt the father's eyes undressing her everyday and his fingers started trying to roam.
So she had been living on the streets for six years now, and she had become one of the most successful pickpockets and cutpurses in the city. Thieves were a highly territorial bunch, and the ones that worked the streets all had areas staked out for themselves. Alicia liked her little corner of the world. She worked a street filled with restaurants and pawnshops. Most people assumed she worked the clients coming out of the shops. While she did lift from them occasionally, she preferred the restaurant patrons. This area wasn't too upscale but neither was it a slum. This was the place uptown businessmen brought their lady-friends for lunch or dinner, but took off their wedding rings first. It was a place where small-time hoods could pretend to be big-time players. It was a place for people who weren't likely to call the cops when their wallet wound up missing. As long as Alicia stuck to cash and left credit cards alone, people tended not to look too hard for the culprit.
Alicia's favorite place to hang out was an Italian restaurant called "Luigi's Place." But people in her profession had taken to calling it "Alicia's Place," and then "Alice's Restaurant." This was the place where Alicia could always count on a good score. Cheaters, boozers, swindlers and the lonely came here, and it was easy for Alicia to get to any of them. The owner wouldn't let her in the front door anymore, and all of the staff had been shown her picture. No matter how many times she changed her hair-color, they always recognized her and stopped her at the door.
At the moment her hair was shoulder length, and was purple on one side and green on the other. She wore torn up jeans or denim shorts most of the time, and neon-yellow fishnet stockings underneath. She had chosen the shorts today because of the heat. She was wearing a bright green, pastel tube-top that displayed her 36 inch, C-cup chest magnificently, and her knee-high stiletto boots gave her tight little ass just the right amount of swing. Even with her bizarre clothing, she was an attractive girl and she knew. She knew it, and so she used it. She used it to get close to the lonely and the lecherous ones. There was many an occasion where she had a forty-year old man's hand on her ass while her hand was in his pocket. She would slap him for his affront, and then wander off with his money. And by the time he knew what had happened, she was long gone; back to her small apartment and her color TV and her cat named Seven. She had named the cat Seven because that was how many lives she figured he had left when she got him.
Alicia was sitting on the stairs of a shop that was closed, and was staring through the windows of her restaurant, planning the night's heist. It seemed like the usual crowd with two exceptions. She had seen a woman go in alone. Men going in alone wasn't unusual, but she didn't see too many single women, particularly as beautiful as this lady was. She appeared to be in her early thirties and had a phenomenal body. She had an hourglass figure that made Alicia almost drool, and her red hair was pulled up in a bun. She had on blue jeans that seemed almost a size too small, and appeared to be wearing a snug white tee shirt underneath her jacket. Her jacket? It was a little warm for a jacket, however stylish. The woman just sat at a table for one, nibbling on her spaghetti and staring and the candle.
The other exception was a sleazy-looking, though somewhat handsome, man in his late thirties who was also sitting alone. He had hit on redhead as soon as he had walked in, but she was having none of it. So the man sat down in a corner booth with his greased back hair and seventies-throwback shirt and just waited. He just sat there. He ordered water and an appetizer. That was what was strange. If he wasn't there for the food and if he wasn't going to put more effort into prowling for tail, what the heck was he doing? Finally a man of oriental persuasion joined him. Suddenly the sleazy exterior was gone, and Alicia could see the man was all business. The two men exchanged something under the table, but she couldn't see what it was. Then they got up and headed for the door. The man took one last lingering look at the redhead and then they walked out onto the street.
It was at that point that Alicia violated one of her primary rules, which was to always leave the oddities alone. She normally stuck with people who were so ordinary they wouldn't be trouble. But something about that man offended her. She realized with a sense of embarrassment that it was how he looked at that woman in the restaurant like a side of beef. "She's too classy for a prick like you." Why had she said that?
Alicia decided to go for the old booty-grab play. She ran down a back alley that allowed her to get ahead of the man. She crossed the street, put one foot up on a doorstep and acted as if she were securing the laces on one of her boots. She made sure her shorts were pulled up so just a little bit of cheek was exposed underneath. As the man passed by, he did what all pigs did and gave her ass a quick grab. And as any "honorable" woman would do, she defended her honor. She rose up to slap him in the face. But this guy was surprisingly quick, and he grabbed her hand.
"You really, REALLY don't want to do that, you little bitch."
She became genuinely nervous, and she let it show on her face. He twisted her wrist a bit before letting her go and continuing on his way.
"Actually," she said a bit smugly to herself as she opened up his stolen wallet, "I do." She started moving down the street, sticking the wallet into her purse. As she was passing the alley right next to Luigi's, she felt hands on her shoulders pulling her into the darkness. Suddenly there was an arm around her neck and a hand clasped over her mouth.
"Don't move," came a distinctly female voice. That was strange. Alicia realized this wasn't a rape attempt and didn't seem to be a mugging. What the hell . . .
Then she heard footsteps outside on the street, hard and fast like someone was running. The person behind her pulled her deeper into the shadows, and Alicia felt strangely complacent. Then she saw the man she had just robbed run by, and he looked furious. Worse, he looked dangerous. After he had passed by, the person . . . the woman who was holding her pulled a hand-held radio out of somewhere and talked into it.
"Okay guys, I need someone to get this guy calmed down and away from here. He didn't make me specifically, but we have a new problem that just added itself to the mix." Alicia got the feeling that "a new problem" referred to her. Then they heard sirens down the street, and the man wandered back by, oblivious to their presence in the alley. He seemed to be trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. An "all clear" message came over the radio, and she felt the hands around her loosen their grip.
A van pulled up and parked outside the alley and she was pushed gently but firmly inside. Once seated, she looked back and found herself face to face with the redhead from the restaurant.
"That," started the woman with a very stern look on her face, "was monumentally stupid." The woman took off her jacket and tossed it on one of the seats. There were two guys up front and another in the back, and all of them were looking nervous as the door closed and the van started up. Alicia had become very afraid. She looked back at the woman. Alicia realized her priorities were a little screwed up when the first thing that caught her eyes was the woman's ample chest. It wasn't quite as big as Alicia's, but it was perfect on the woman's rock-hard body. Then something really got her attention. It was a 9-mm pistol at the woman's side.
"Who the hell are you people? This is kidnapping! I know my rights!"
"I suspect you do. You've probably had them read to you on a number of occasions." The redhead pulled out what Alicia initially thought was a wallet. It wasn't. It was a badge. "Agent Carrie King, FBI. You, young lady, just stumbled into something you really shouldn't have."
Alicia remained speechless for the remainder of the ride. They pulled up into what she thought was an abandoned warehouse. But inside were several vans, a large recreational vehicle, tons of equipment and dozens of people. The warehouse door closed behind them with an eerie sense of finality.
The van stopped and everyone, except Alicia, got outside. She was quite out of her element and didn't like it one bit. She moved up to the front seat to get a better view. The redhead, Carrie, was talking to a balding man who looked rather officious. Carrie had her head in her hand and was just shaking it. The man had opened the stolen wallet, pulled out a piece of paper from its crevices and was madly waving it around. There was a heated discussion, then something Carrie said seemed to calm the man down. He pulled a wad of cash out of the wallet.
"Damn," said Alicia. "I would have been set up for a week with that much dough. What a lousy score to lose!"
The man glanced angrily at the van, handed the wallet off to another person, probably another agent, and said something back to the lovely Carrie. Carrie headed over to the van, and she didn't look happy.
"Listen, all I did was lift a fuckin' wallet! I'll plead guilty. What's the worst that could happen? But you have to charge me with somthin' or let me go," she said as the agent opened the driver's-side door and climbed inside.
"No, actually we don't have to charge you with anything and we're not going to. And as tempting as it is to shoot you, I don't have the necessary forms filled out."
Alicia was aghast. "You wouldn't!?! That's . . . that's . . ."
"That was a joke young lady."
"What's ‘not funny' is what you've gotten yourself into. Your life is now in danger, and that's no joke."
"In danger? Who was that guy? What would anyone want to kill me for a friggin' wallet?"
"Because that guy works for a large drug cartel that is dealing with a new distributor in Asia. That wallet you stole contained a list of storage lockers and pick-up points for the cartel to acquire small quantities of a new narcotic which has become popular in Europe and is making its way over here. This shit is called De Sade, and it makes other date-rape drugs look like children's aspirin. It pumps up the body's normal state of arousal while simultaneously screwing with judgement and coordination. Even if they wanted to, the person drugged wouldn't be able to fight back."
"That's so sick! People actually use stuff like that? Anyone who would use something like that . . . Someone who would use drugs or anything like that to control someone else . . . It's just pathetic. So what are you mad at me for? If you know where the shit is now, just go get it. Hell, you should be thanking me."
Carrie grabbed Alicia's chin quite firmly and looked into her eyes. "'Thanking you'? There are so many problems with that statement I'm not sure where to begin. First off, we'd like to actually be able to arrest Travis, the man you robbed, for something other than being an easy mark for a pickpocket. We were planning on jumping the members of his organization as they made the pick-ups. We could nab a couple dozen of them, but only if they ACTUALLY KNOW where to go. And if they don't have the list . . . See where I'm going with this?"
Alicia gulped, then nodded.
"Good. And what do you think that the Asian group doing the smuggling is going to think when Travis and his group don't pay for drugs they didn't pick up because they didn't know where they were?"
"Precisely. Travis will die first, which is no big loss for most people. But then the two cartels will start fighting, and a lot of innocent people get caught in the crossfire."
Alicia was on the verge of tears. This was too much for her to handle. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was just trying to get one more score. I didn't mean to get involved in any of this."
"I know," said Carrie, whose voice had become incredibly sympathetic. "You made the wrong decision with the wrong person at the wrong time. I get that, and it's the reason we're going to help you out. We've taken the cash out of the wallet and we're going to dump it in a trashcan near where you stole it. He's probably going to be back in the area in the next half-hour, now that the ‘police presence' is gone. We'll make sure he finds it, and I hope like hell he accepts that it was just another random robbery. Hopefully he won't say anything to his superiors out of fear of looking like an idiot. But if either of those things doesn't happen, we're up the creek. Everyone involves disappears for a while, and we have to start again from scratch. And now we have to make sure he doesn't find you."
"Why would he come looking for me?"
Carrie sighed. "If you knew someone had looked through your wallet when you carried something like that around, wouldn't . . ."
"Okay, I get it. So what do I do?"
"Well, you can't go home. Do you live with someone? A roommate or boyfriend?"
"No boyfriend. Not big into boys." Alicia noticed Carrie's eyes widen a bit and saw a bit of longing there, which quickly dissipated. But Alicia took note of it. "But I do have a cat."
"Yes. A small feline that chases mice. Never catches them, but certainly loves the chase." Alicia slowly and elaborately crossed her legs, hoping the other woman could get a good look up her torn and baggy shorts.
"I know what a cat is," said Carrie, showing no signs of her earlier bout of interest. "It'll take him some time before he finds out who you are and where you live, so we'd better go get your cat and any essentials you might want. Clothes, identification, which should preferably be your own, and anything else you can conveniently carry that isn't stolen merchandise."
"That excludes just about everything. Except the cat."
Carrie started up the van and Alicia directed them to her apartment. The cat was curled up on television, purring contentedly. Alicia grabbed the cat-carrier out of the closet and the spare kitty litter box. She grabbed a few cat toys that Seven liked and . . .
"Um, do YOU need anything? The cat's ready for a nuclear winter, but . . ."
"I'm gettin' to it." She threw some toiletries into a backpack along with a few changes of clothes. By the time they were done, Alicia had three backpacks full of stuff, only one of which was for her.
"You spoil that cat, you know."
"I do not! Now could you grab the cat bed over there? Ooh, and her favorite pillow and . . . "
Carrie's boss got her on the radio and told her that the ‘civilian' would have to stay with her that night. He proceeded to ignore her objections for about ten minutes before she acquiesced. They proceeded to Carrie's apartment, where they were to remain until the situation took care of itself. Alicia smiled to herself. Alone with a hot redhead, she thought. There were worse situations to be in.
Carrie's apartment was so sparse that it made a monastery look like a five-star hotel. The apartment was a studio, so everything was pretty much in one big room except for the bathroom. It had a bed, a recliner, a television set, a lamp and one of those BowFlex exercise machines. There were a series of cheap plastic shelves that held all of the woman's clothes that weren't in the closet. The floor was bare concrete. In Alicia's mind, it screamed out that this woman didn't have visitors over often, if ever. And it was immaculately clean. Carrie tossed her jacket onto the back of the recliner and took off her gun belt. She attached a gunlock to her sidearm before storing it. Alicia wondered if the precautions were because of her.
"Okay, you can take the bed. I pretty much sleep in the chair anyway. You can have anything you want out of the fridge."
Alicia bounced over. "Great. I could really use a beer." And if I can get you a little drunk, she thought to herself. But her plans were quickly dashed. The only thing in the fridge was bottled water, celery sticks and low-fat peanut butter.
"Sorry, but I don't drink. Or cook. Take-out menus are on the counter. There is some ice cream in the freezer if you need something to tide you over. Butter-pecan I think." Carrie eased herself down into the chair, fully clothed. "I've had a long day, so I'm going to get some sleep. I advise you do the same."
"What? Aren't you going to lock the door to prevent me from escaping? Or tie me up maybe?" That would be fun, she thought. She wondered if she was getting her interest through to the agent.
"Why? If you leave here, you're on your own. With an entire drug cartel looking for you." With that Carrie closed her eyes. "You're a thief, but you don't strike me as stupid. I'll trust you not to prove me wrong."
Alicia quickly locked the door and closed the blinds. Before all light was extinguished, she could have sworn she saw Carrie smirking. Alicia curled up on the bed, and Seven curled up next to her.
When she awoke the next morning, Carrie was nowhere to be seen. There was a note on the television saying, "Gone for breakfast. Back soon." Initially Alicia was surprised that a federal agent would leave a known thief alone in her apartment. Then Alicia remembered there was nothing worth stealing. That didn't keep her from snooping around though.
There was almost nothing of real interest in that place. Nothing cute or fuzzy, no pictures of family or friends. No indications that she had recently entertained a guy (or girl). Barren. Yes, that was the word. Barren. She found herself rooting through Carrie's clothes. There was almost no variety. She had two different types of pants, dark blue-jeans and light blue-jeans. She had a variety of t-shirts, most of them white. She had a single dress skirt and jacket in a bag in the closet. Her underwear lacked personality as well. Cotton grannie-panties and sports bras. Nothing silky, satiny, lacey or daring. Very boring. Did this woman every have sex?
Alicia did find one interesting item. Underneath a pile of t-shirts at the end of the shelves, she found a single picture on top of a black, silk slip. Alicia found herself wondering what the voluptuous Carrie would look like wearing the lingerie, and found herself getting a little wet south of the borderline. But the picture was interesting too. It was Carrie and another woman. The other woman was quite a knockout. She was a black woman, but her skin seemed lighter than a lot of the black people she had known. Possibly mulatto. Carrie had a smile on her face and her head on the other girl's shoulder. The picture was a high quality job with a professional backdrop and everything. This wasn't a casual snapshot, and Alicia got the feeling that they weren't just friends. But considering how the picture was hidden, Alicia got a feeling that there was a story to be told. Alicia also realized that she would have to be careful how she brought it up.
When Carrie got back, she held the food of the gods!
"Yep," said the woman, dropping the box off on the counter. "Plain glazed, chocolate glazed and maple glazed. A balanced breakfast. Got coffee too if you're interested."
The two of them ate quietly as Carrie watched the morning news, followed by the ever-inspirational C-SPAN and a House of Representatives debate on funding for national parks. For Alicia, it was the most boring thing imaginable.
"C'mon, can't we watch cartoons or something? If that guy from Texas says the words ‘logging rights' one more time, I'm gonna scream. I'm not kidding."
"You should pay attention. I think they're going to be talking about prison overcrowding soon, and that might involve you in the near future."
"I thought you guys weren't going to arrest me!"
"We're not. The FBI doesn't pursue petty thieves. But eventually you will get caught by someone. You may be good, but eventually there will be someone better."
"Don't be so sure," she said smugly. "I play pretty smart."
"Not smart enough it would seem," Carrie said, pulling a manila envelope from under her jacket and examining the contents. "Alicia Summerland. Orphaned at age five, in and out of foster homes until you were fifteen, and disappeared for three years until you picked up your driver's license at age eighteen. Picked up for some shoplifting and petty theft, but you never went to jail." She looked up at Alicia. "Let me guess, short skirts and batting the eyes made an impact on the judge?"
"Short shorts, actually. I've never been big on skirts. And where the hell . . ."
" . . . did I get this? I work for the government, remember? The boys went through your apartment yesterday after we left and printed some stuff. I wanted to know who I was dealing with."
Alicia was a little ticked off. "You could have ASKED!"
"What would be the fun of working for the FBI if I couldn't snoop?" Seven jumped up into Carrie's lap and curled down for a nap.
Carrie scratched behind the cat's ears, and the purring became quite noticeable. "Never quite got the point of cats before, but they're awfully cute aren't they?" Carrie leaned back. "And the purring is soothing."
"You should get a cat or something."
"Why? I'm almost never around here anyway."
"I can tell. What do you do for fun anyway? This place is as lively as convent on Sunday."
"Don't have time for fun. I pretty much live for the job."
"Sounds sad." It was time to make her play. "Sooooo . . .seeing anyone? Got a boyfriend somewhere?"
Carrie smiled. "Nice try. I'm not sharing personal information with a criminal."
"Let me hazard a guess then. You haven't gotten any action any time recently. You wake up, go to work, come home, order pizza or something, watch your boring shows and go to bed. And you do all this each and every single day. Sometimes you'll go down to a bar, slam a few down by yourself, looking around for something you know isn't there. Or for someone. You look over your shoulder as if expecting an old friend, but it turns out to be a figment of your imagination."
Carrie had stiffened up a bit as Alicia had gotten on in her ramble. Alicia knew the look. And she knew it had something to do with the woman in the picture. She had seen this kind of place and person before. Someone who had given up on love, for one reason or another, so they buried themselves in their work or a hobby until the memory or pain that had brought them to that point faded. Sometimes, it never faded.
"The boys all probably want you at work, don't they? Some of the girls too." Carrie twitched a bit at that. Oh yeah, thought Alicia. Both girls played for same team. "But you don't really notice them. Maybe you attend a few social gatherings, but it's all just for show."
"So, who have you been talking to?" Carrie looked a little defensive.
"I just looked around. This place is like a tomb with electricity."
"Well, it's my tomb." She got up and headed for the bathroom. "I'll let you snoop some more. I'm gonna take a shower. By the way, there haven't been any rumors on the street of people looking too hard for you, but you'll have to stay her a couple more days until we're sure its safe."
Just before Carrie closed the door, she had started tugged on her t-shirt, and Alicia got a brief look at her muscled abdomen. Then the door was shut. Alicia had made headway, but it wasn't enough. But she didn't want to piss off the woman who was currently helping save her life. And she found herself somewhat drawn to the red haired beauty. She seemed lonely, somehow. Seven rubbed against her leg.
"Yes, maybe I need to look after her like I look after you."
When Carrie was done, Alicia took her turn. But Alicia ‘accidentally' left the door open just a crack. And then she took her time getting undressed, looking at the bathroom mirror out of the corner of her eye. She wondered if Carrie could see her. She slid her shorts down, then her stockings and her thong. Then went the tube top. She stopped to admire herself in the mirror, tracing the swell of her sizeable tits. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a hand cross the gap in the door and grasp the knob. Oh goody, thought Alicia. It's working! Then the door slowly closed, leaving the young woman alone.
"Damnit!" That fish was going to be a little harder to reel in than she thought. She reached into her toiletry bag and pulled out Old Faithful, a six inch, waterproof vibrator with a g-spot curve for those hard to reach places. She got into the shower and got the usual stuff out of the way; shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Then the fun began. She took the tip of the toy and curled it into her smoothly shaven pussy. Once inside, she turned up the power. She knew her own body, and sent the tip straight up against her special spot.
"Oh, that's good." She sat down on the floor of the shower and start fucking herself with her vibrator. She took one of her large, soft nipples between her thumb and forefinger, twisting and tugging. She liked it a bit rough. She stayed in the shower until she had brought herself to two orgasms. She dried off and hid her toy in her bag. She wrapped the towel around her torso and went out into the main room, hoping to turn her hostess on a bit by doing the dripping-wet-young-woman routine. Carrie was nowhere to be seen. There was a note on the door again.
"Had to run a couple of errands. I'll bring back pizza. Carrie."
"Hunh," said Alicia. "Either she's completely oblivious or much slyer than I thought." Her plan was blown. It would look really silly if she just hung out in a towel for an hour, so she got dressed. Maybe it was her style of dress that was turning the older woman off. She slipped into another thong (since everyone likes thongs) and a pair of snug yet sensible shorts. She borrowed one of Carrie's t-shirts. What was the worst that could happen? Carrie asks for the shirt back? Alicia wouldn't mind getting naked in front of the hot redhead.
Carrie returned with an armload of pizzas.
"Holy shit! Expecting an army platoon to drop by?"
"It occurred to me I didn't know what you wanted on your pizza, so I got a variety. Meat lovers, vegetable lovers, supreme, cheese only and one pepperoni and green chili. That's my favorite."
"When it comes to pizza, I'm easy." Oh subtle, thought Alicia.
"I figure if you'd like, we could watch a movie. See what's on pay-per-view."
"Yes!" Alicia had been messing with the remote in Carrie's absence and had figured out how to navigate the vast array of menus provided by her digital cable. Their first movie was Red Dragon, which was entertaining except for Carrie's constant complaints about how the earlier version of the movie, Manhunter, was much better. But the older woman was talking a little more freely, and there was actually some life behind her eyes. Then they watched Bringing Down the House with Steve Martin and Queen Latifah, and Carrie was laughing so hard she was in tears. Alicia spent more time watching the girl than she did watching the film. The agent was especially pretty when she laughed.
Alicia was sitting on the floor in front of the chair when she "casually" leaned back until she was leaning against Carrie's legs. Then she felt the older woman actually playing with her multi-colored hair. After that, she felt hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. What the heck? Carrie was finally responding, and she wasn't even doing anything. And as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.
"Hey, it's . . . um . . . getting late."
"What? It's not like either of us have anywhere to go tomorrow." She turned her head until the side of her face rubbed up against Carrie's hand. "Besides, this is just getting interesting."
"The movie's over. This is an infomercial."
"I wasn't talking about the movie." Alicia turned around and straightened her knees. Carrie had the look of a trapped animal, but one that wasn't sure where to run. She placed her hands on the older woman's thighs, sliding them slowly towards her waist.
"What are you doing? Listen, this is entirely inappropriate. I'm supposed to be looking out for you."
Alicia stopped and took her own shirt off. Her large tits began swaying. They came to rest on Carrie's waist as Alicia parted her legs and leaned in. Their faces were coming very close together. Please don't back out, thought Alicia. "If you're supposed to be looking, then look." She grabbed Carrie's hands and placed them on her chest. Then she kissed the FBI agent. And her kiss was returned. Their lips locked and their tongues slid into each others mouths. The grip on her breasts tightened, almost nervously. Then the kiss was broken.
"I . . . I can't do this. I'm not ready."
Alicia slid one hand to the crotch of Carrie's jeans. "Feels like you're ready to me. Feels all warm and wet." Even that slight touch made the older woman almost jump out of her skin. Alicia started rubbing the woman's mound through the denim. "You are so gorgeous. We don't have to be talking about forever. Let me make you feel good, just for tonight."
Without any warning, Carrie was out of the chair and moving away. Alicia got up and gave chase. She caught up just as Carrie had reached the bed, and she spun the woman around. "I know you're interested, so what's the problem? Is it because I'm a thief? Or is it . . ."
"It's not about you. It's about me. And . . . and . . ." Carrie was a woman apparently subject to wild mood changes. She had gone from cold to hot and back to cold. Then, it was time for hot again. She grabbed Alicia's head and kissed her. This time, to agent's hands grabbed the young woman's ass and drew her close. Their kissing was more passionate and intense than anything Alicia had experienced before. She was fumbling with the older woman's jeans, trying to get those skintight coverings unbuttoned. Finally, she got the job done and pushed them past Carrie's hips, taking those horrid panties with them. Alicia was so turned on that she literally ripped Carrie's shirt off. Then she spun the older woman around and pushed her onto the bed before grabbing her jeans and removing them completely. She took a moment to look down the senior girl. Carrie was lying on the bed, her ample chest heaving and covered in sweat. Her red hair had come loose from its bun and was flowing over the plain cotton sheets of the bed. Her body was like a sculpted statue you might find in a museum, taut and carved. Alicia removed her shorts and thong before kneeling over Carrie, straddling her waist. She pulled the sports bra over the older woman's head and then leaned over and sucked on her nipples. Carrie held her head in place and stroked her hair. Alicia pressed her swollen pussy against Carrie's and started rubbing them together. Her new friend moaned audibly and wrapped her powerful legs around the younger girl's waist. It was a time Alicia wished she had a strap-on or something, but she was afraid of breaking this off even long enough to get her vibrator out of the bathroom. If she did, Carrie might go cold again. If that happened, Alicia doubted she could ever get the FBI agent warmed up again.
Alicia was increasing the tempo of her hips as their slippery private parts rubbed harder against each other. She massaged the older woman's magnificent breasts. They weren't as large as Alicia's, but the were perfectly formed, firm and were large enough to overflow her hands. She ran a hand down and inserted two fingers into Carrie's moist box, using her digits as a miniature, highly maneuverable cock. As she thrust with her hips, it bumped her fingers deeper into her lover's body. Once deep inside, she would spread her fingers, wiggle them around and then go looking for the g-spot. Carrie finally took a non-passive role as she took Alicia's breasts in her hands and nipples in her lips.
Alicia was impressed. While she was under the impression that it had been a while since the older woman's last tryst, she seemed to still know what she was doing. Her tongue was like magic and her mouth exerted a tremendous amount of pressure on the young woman's sensitive breasts. Alicia felt one of her nipples being twisted and tugged, eliciting a pleasant whimper. Carrie heard it and apparently realized she was on to something. Soon, Alicia was almost completely at Carrie's mercy as her tits were effectively mauled and manhandled by the older woman. Alicia stepped up her fingering. She had to make the older woman come. Her fingers quickly produced the desired effect. Carrie's legs locked Alicia into place as she arched her back. Alicia leaned back as the older woman held on to her nipples, stretching them as far as they could go. The feeling was incredible!
As orgasm ransacked Carrie's body, her young lover was watching her face. Despite the pleasure displayed there, Alicia also detected some sadness. Alicia felt pangs of guilt, as if she were taking advantage of some vulnerability. That had never bothered her before. She had taken drunk or emotionally troubled women to her bed before without ever feeling like this. She wanted so badly to make her lover's sadness go away, but didn't know how.
Finally Carrie's legs released Alicia's body and she lay back down flat on the bed. Even in the flickering light provided by the television set, Alicia thought the woman lying on the bed was the most beautiful she had ever seen. She ran her hands up to Carrie's breasts, gently fondling them. Carrie grabbed her hands pulling on them until they came to rest on either side of her head. The two women were face to face and the older of the two initiated a kiss. To Alicia, the act seemed almost desperate, but she didn't feel it was the time or place to refuse or question it. So she returned it with as much passion as she could muster. She felt the older woman pulling on her butt drawing her body upward. Never one to refuse oral sex, Alicia allowed herself to be drawn up until her sex was inches from Carrie's face.
When Carrie's tongue went to work, Alicia's knees almost buckled within the first minute. My God, she thought. This woman's tongue is amazing! She felt her moist inner lips being spread wide open by the passing invader before sinking into her depths. That soft but strong appendage seemed to be able to reach every nook and cranny of Alicia's pussy. She felt her inner lips being teased and sucked on, and then her clit was the victim of a merciless assault. Alicia held on for about five minutes as she wanted to savor every moment of that oral pleasure. But Carrie's cunnilingus skills were just too much. Alicia had to lean against the wall just to remain vaguely upright and bolts of pleasure shot out from her vaginal area to every corner of her body. Carrie's tongue remained buried and active inside her body for the duration of the orgasm. Alicia wasn't even allowed to come down from her sexual high before aftershocks inspired by Carrie's continuing attentions rocked her body. Alicia wasn't sure if she was having multiple orgasms or something different, but she didn't much care. Whatever it was felt wonderful. Her hips were quivering for several minutes as her girl juice coated Carrie's face. Even after she was finally able to stop shaking, the older woman continued to gently lick and nuzzle Alicia's sensitive mound.
Alicia reluctantly removed herself from atop Carrie's face and lay down next to her. The redhead's face had become hard to read. Alicia badly wanted to know if the woman enjoyed what had just transpired or regretted it. She rested her head on the pillow next to Carrie's and timidly reached one arm over her body. Carrie didn't respond, but rather just stared at the ceiling. This was an unusual situation for the young pickpocket. She never had this much trouble figuring out what a lover wanted. And it was strange that she wanted to cuddle with the older woman. She normally didn't go in for that sort of thing. Suddenly, Carrie got up and went into the bathroom. Alicia heard the water being turned on in the sink.
"Do I get up and check on her? Do I let her work out what's going on in her head?" Alicia was muttering to herself. "And why do I care?" She found her hand drifting down to her well-ravaged pussy. "Damn that felt good!"
Carrie finally came out of the bathroom after having cleaned Alicia's cum off her face. She pulled on her pants and shirt, then put on her shoes.
"What are you doing?" asked Alicia.
"I'm going for a walk. There's a 24-hour convenience store down the street." And just like that, she was out the door.
Alicia was almost stunned. "But . . . Why . . ." She found herself asking empty questions to an empty room. She was as confused as she had ever been. After an all-too-brief but extremely passionate moment, Carrie had turned to stone. It was as if she felt bad about feeling good. Alicia tried staying awake until Carrie got home, but it became obvious that the woman's "walk" was going to take a while, and Alicia was exhausted.
When she awoke the next morning, Carrie was nowhere to bee seen. The note on the door read, "There are still some doughnuts and pizza left for breakfast. I'll be back later. Carrie." Alicia took a shower and got dressed. She wasn't in the mood for her morning masturbation, because she knew she would just be thinking of what Carrie's tongue had felt like. She got dressed in her most feminine looking outfit. Maybe that would make the older woman see her a little differently. She grabbed a couple slices of cold pizza and started looking through the morning paper. She had realized over the previous few days that she needed to find a new manner of supporting herself. Finding yourself exalted from petty thief to potential murder victim of an international drug cartel tended to adjust one's thinking. She circled a bunch of no-experience-necessary possibilities that didn't involve her having to get naked, then she circled a few where she WOULD have to get naked. It never hurt to keep your options open.
Around lunchtime, Carrie wandered back in. She looked absolutely dead on her feet, and she collapsed in her chair. She kept her sunglasses on, giving Alicia the impression she had been crying. It's what people who perceived themselves as strong often did to hide the ravages of weeping.
Alicia sat on the floor in front of her. "Have you been out all night?"
Carrie crossed her legs, preventing any possibility of Alicia moving in like she had the night before. She sat there for a moment before responding, "Yeah."
"Pretty much. I drank a lot of coffee, walked to the nearest Village Inn . . ."
"Isn't that like four miles away?"
"Four and a half. Got a call about an hour ago. Seems your apartment was ransacked, so my supervisors told me you'd have to stay here for another few days. They're trying to get word out on the streets that you are . . . well, exactly what you are: a small time pickpocket with no real affiliations. As long as Travis and/or his colleagues think it was just an accidental event, we might still be in business. Nothing in your place particularly screamed ‘Look at me! I'm a spy for the government or a competitor,' so I'm still hoping for the best. Sorry, but you're going to have to stay off the streets for a while longer."
"I'll manage," Alicia said softly. "Listen, if you need to pawn me off on another agent so you can get back to work . . ."
"No, unfortunately my boss can't spare anyone. Everyone else is already in position, and he's afraid that Travis will be suspicious if he sees me again, since I'm the only person besides you he would recognize from the restaurant. So I get to play bodyguard for a while longer."
Alicia had winced when the older woman said "unfortunately." "Is that so bad? I mean, last night . . ."
"Last night can't happen again. It was a mistake on my part." Carrie was obviously taking extreme care to control the tone and pitch of her voice. "Listen, I'm tired as hell and I'm going to take a nap. So if you don't mind . . ."
"Actually, I do mind. Believe it or not, I enjoyed last night. And I didn't do it because I was grateful for you saving my ass a couple days ago. You're attractive and sexy."
"I'm a federal agent and you're a criminal."
"That didn't stop you last night."
"I made an error in judgement. It won't happen again."
"But I WANT it to happen again. And you can't convince me that somewhere deep inside that ice-queen persona you're fronting that you don't want it to happen too." Alicia was afraid, but she felt it was time to play her last card. "Does it have something to do with that woman in the picture? The one you keep hidden?"
Carrie quickly got out of her chair. "I've taken you into my home to protect you. You have NO right to go snooping in my affairs!"
"I'm a criminal remember? What kind of criminal doesn't snoop?" She hurried over and grabbed the picture from its hiding place.
"Give that to me!"
"Gladly. Just explain what it is about this woman that made you give up on the idea of ever being with anyone else!"
When Carrie got a hold of the photograph, her complexion changed. She finally took her sunglasses off, revealing bloodshot eyes. But she looked down at the image with a certain amount of care.
"Please," pleaded Alicia. "If you're not going to give me a shot, I'd at least like to know why."
Carrie plopped down on the bed. "Her name is Tammy," she said after a moment's pause. "She was my first real relationship. Before her, everything was one-night stands or doomed relationships. She was different. We were both at the academy together. We graduated in the same class, got assigned to the same area after graduation . . . It was almost perfect." Her voice held both fondness and regret, and Alicia realized she must have cared about her a great deal.
"I was up for a promotion. It would have meant more control for me over my assignments, as well as more money and prestige. The decision was solely in the hands of one of my supervisors at that time. An annoying little rat-bastard named Clyde. Well, I really wanted the promotion, and he made me an offer. So I took it."
Alicia was obviously baffled. "But why . . . I mean, it doesn't take a genius to realize you loved her."
"If it did, then apparently I'm no genius. I spent a year trying to figure out why I did it. He literally meant nothing to me. It's like masturbating with a sex toy when your lover isn't around. At the time, it didn't really feel like cheating. He was just a means to an end. But Tammy walked in on us in the middle of the act. And while it had meant nothing to me, it devastated her. She quit the bureau and flew all the way to Alaska to take a sheriff's position. We'd been together for years, but it ended in a moment."
"How long ago was that?"
"About three years, I think. I lost track of time for a while after that."
"Three years? You've been beating yourself up about it for that long? Why not just talk to her? I'm sure she would have forgiven you."
"No way. At least not at first. You know the saying, ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall'? Well Tammy has a big heart. And I was so ashamed. I tried to explain and I tried to apologize, but she didn't want to listen to me anymore. A few months ago, I actually used my vacation time for the first time in years to go out there. I figured I'd give her a chance to unload on me. Mostly I didn't want her to throw a promising career away because some stupid bitch didn't know a good thing when she saw it."
"Well, I went to her house and ran into her new girlfriend."
"That's what I thought. She was an eighteen-year old girl. Name of Beverly. She had fire in her gut, that's for sure. Apparently she knew who I was, and she was ready to fight the second she heard my name. But it turned out she was also a really decent girl who just didn't want her girlfriend getting hurt again. Eventually she warmed to me for some reason or another, and she got Tammy to call me." Carrie sighed. "It was the hardest conversation of my life. But things have gotten better. I apologized, she forgave me, and apparently I managed to convince her to come back to work. She and her girlfriend are moving out in the spring so they can find an apartment near the Bureau and near where Beverly is going to be going to school."
"So if things are good between you two again, why the isolation?"
"Things are better between us. I'm still hoping for ‘good.' She did say she wanted to get together once she was out here and see how it would work being friends again. She was my best friend at one time, and I had never realized how much that meant until she forgave me. But in answer to your question, every time I've thought about looking for a one-night stand, I find myself thinking of who I used to be. That was the person who threw away what was possibly the love of a lifetime for a quick fuck and one step up the ladder of success. Hell, I wound up getting reassigned to fieldwork because I couldn't stomach what I had given up to get the promotion. And every time I think of looking for a more serious relationship, I get this fear that I'm just going to try and turn it into what I had before, which wouldn't be fair to whoever I'm with."
"So you just gave up? That, to me, is the saddest part."
Carrie looked a little defensive. "What's it to you?"
"Because I want to be next! In case you haven't notice, I'm incredibly attracted to you! I was staring at you through the restaurant window the night this all started. I went after the guy I did because I felt he was disrespectful to a beautiful woman. Then I was actually kind of glad it all happened, otherwise I probably never would have seen you again. Now I'm going to be hurt if you shoot me down, but I'll live. But you aren't living. This isn't a home, it's a crypt. Last night, I saw passion. No matter how hard you try and kill it, there's a part of you that still wants love."
"I know I want it. I just don't know if I deserve it."
"For crying out loud, stop whining! That's right, ‘whining!' You made a mistake, and a big one at that. You know it. She knows it. She's even forgiven you. Life doesn't end at each little mistake we make. I'm willing to trust you not to make the same mistake, but it won't matter if you don't trust yourself. You've done everything you could to make things right. That should account for something." She took Carrie's hand, and was encouraged the older woman didn't pull away. "I'm willing to have a go at being a law-abiding citizen. Shouldn't I at least be awarded with one little date?"
Carrie almost snickered. "A date? I haven't been on a date in a long, long time. I wouldn't even remember what to do."
"Well, what happened last night usually happens at the end. The beginning starts with dinner and a movie. Anything else is entirely up to the participants." Alicia smiled. "You realize you didn't say ‘no' yet."
"You're right," said Carrie, squeezing the younger woman's hand. "I didn't. But . . . Give me a few days to think it over. And nothing else can happen until you're in the clear." Alicia reluctantly agreed. It was something at least. "So, what are you going to do with your life now that you're ‘retiring' from your current job?"