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Edited by LadyCibelle

AUTHOR’S NOTE: A couple of E-posters found some plot holes in Part 01. One of them said that a man shot from the front at close range with a shotgun would not live long enough to turn around and run away from the crime scene, taking a second load in the back. Good point. However, some people do survive getting shot at close range. As long as everyone understands that the victim opened the door voluntarily and admitted his killer to the house, I’m on the right track.

Another poster told me that Roger Wilson unhooked Carol’s bra twice while teasing her. Sorry about that, gentle reader. I had a little TOO much fun in writing it.

Pete Moskow, who appears here late in his career (this story is set 15 or 20 years in the future) will be shown in a more positive light in other stories. He will have a girlfriend, at least for a while.

Thanks to the posters who (for a little while, at least) voted Part 1 of this story

on the Erotic Couplings list! I hold Patricia in such high regard that, whenever I write a story involving some of her characters, I give it all I have so it can hold to her terrific standards. Writing stories for other people’s characters can be fiendishly difficult, and I feel a sense of real pride when people – Patricia in particular – feel I’ve understood the characters and given them depth.

And finally, thank you so much to LadyCibelle, who was not only this story’s editor but also its



Based on his play “Good Cop, Bad Cop”

For the series of stories created by Patricia51 and Linda_s

Category: Toys and Masturbation, BDSM, Romance

A gay officer and her straight partner compare lovemaking techniques.

* * * * *

Detective Sergeants Sue Adams and Carol Wilson, of the Jackson County Sheriff’s Office in Georgia, landed at Orlando International Airport, Florida, after a flight delayed by a hurricane threat. It was a bad season, and when they rented a car they were advised that outgoing flights might be canceled if the storm kept on course to hit the Atlantic coast. They decided to rent a hotel room for the night. Each detective called her spouse to notify him and her, respectively.

After making the calls, the two of them decided to go on to Walt Disney World, specifically Disney/MGM Studios. Studio 2 housed the “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” attraction. Studio 1 had been leased out to Counterspy Productions, for a TV show called “Bring ‘Em On Out.” Two days ago, a guest on that show had been murdered in his home in a Jackson County bedroom community. The victim’s show hadn’t aired yet, and the detectives were hoping to get a full look at the footage – including any that wasn’t used in the final product.

Sergeant Adams sighed wistfully as she walked past Studio 2 and saw the lineup of people who wanted to sit in the Hot Seat and answer questions. Sergeant Wilson noticed the sigh and playfully punched Adams in the arm. “I’m younger than you,” Sergeant Wilson said, “and I bet I could beat you in Fastest Finger.” (The exhibit still used the network TV show’s version of the qualifier to get people in the Hot Seat, so anybody in the audience could make it if he or she was right and faster than the other 550 people trying it out.)

Sergeant Adams punched Sergeant Wilson’s arm in return. The two detectives, though they seldom worked together, were friends of many years’ standing and sometimes called each other “Cousin.” Sergeant Adams’ life partner, before meeting her, had been a lover to both of Sergeant Wilson’s parents – simultaneously at one point. Since Sergeant Wilson didn’t have any aunts and uncles by blood nearby, Deputy Inspector Shannon had been “Aunt Linda” for several years as Captain Mike Gibson’s girlfriend, and kept the honorary title thereafter. Sergeant Adams only about five years older than Sergeant Wilson, so she had become an honorary cousin.

The detectives reflected on this camaraderie as they came to the door of Studio One. It was closed and locked.

“Is a taping going on right now?” Sergeant Wilson asked her partner, who had her cell phone out and was looking up the number for Counterspy Productions.

“No,” said Sergeant Adams, frowning. “They don’t tape until after Millionaire does its last show, and that’s at 7:00 P.M. They ought to have some people going over the groundwork, though.” She dialed the production-office number and got nothing but an answering-machine message.

“Should we leave and try their offices in town?” Sergeant Wilson wondered.

“I guess we could, but what we need would be here anyway,” Sergeant Adams replied. “I wonder if … wait a minute. Is that guy who I think he is?”

No, the man leaving Studio 2 with a group of Millionaire lovers wasn’t Regis Philbin. But he was a VIP to the two officers. Pete Moskow was a free-lance TV director who had worked for the production offices of several university medical schools, and as a videographer and crime-scene investigator for Jackson County; he had helped both detectives escort şişli on difficult and personal cases. Neither of them had seen him in about three years, since he last fell into the bottle.

The detectives didn’t have to come to Pete; he came to them – albeit with a distracted look on his face. He didn’t notice Sergeant Wilson until she ran up to him and clasped his hand.

“Carol? Sue? I don’t believe it! Are you and the families vacationing here?” Pete uttered these words a little too carefully. Oh, God, both women said silently.

Sergeant Adams pulled out her badge. “Actually, Pete, we’re here on official business. We’re trying to get into that studio and nobody seems to be home.”

“They’re on lunch break,” Pete replied. “I got myself a sandwich and went to play Fastest Finger. My coordination sucks. Been going there every chance I get for three months and I never make the Hot Seat.”

Sergeant Wilson smiled and tried to change the subject. “So, you’re affiliated with the show that’s taping there? I’m glad you got a job!”

The minute she said it, Sergeant Wilson’s face fell. Pete looked at her like he had been handed a death sentence.

“Affiliated with it?” he asked. “Hell, I’m the director. I’d rather be sucking men’s dicks in a back alley for one tenth of the money I’m making here.” Then his face went paper white as he looked at the gay Sergeant.

Both Officers stared at Pete for a long moment. Then Sergeant Adams dug into her purse, found a twenty and thrust it at Sergeant Wilson.

“Go buy him a real sandwich,” Sergeant Adams ordered, “and as much coffee as we can pour into him.” Wilson took the order without question; in fact, she dashed off looking for a concession stand.

Sergeant Adams found a bench, ordered Pete to sit, sat down beside him and looked him in the eye.

“Pete, you would never say something like that when sober. Tell me what got you into this mess. How much money do you owe people? What is it about this job that makes you a shell of a man?”

Pete’s hand gripped his own thigh until his knuckles turned white. Sergeant Adams removed the hand gently and put it on the bench. The knuckles stayed white as Pete punished himself.

“I maxed out eleven credit cards, average balance five thousand two hundred fifty-seven dollars and twenty-three cents.” Leave it to Pete to be precise in calculating his own self-destruction. “I’ve had twenty-three sober days in the last five hundred sixty-two. That’s how long this show has been in production. It added fifty-three stations carrying it this past off-season.”

“I know,” Sergeant Adams said. “We’re here because a station back home picked it up. We’re here about the season premiere. The primary guest was –”

“Murdered,” Pete said flatly. He used an ugly curse word. “It was on CNN this morning. If you tried to call the production offices, don’t bother. They’re busy talking to their lawyers, hoping to destroy the master tape.”

Sergeant Adams’ eyes widened. “How can they do that? It’s vital evidence in a murder investigation!”

Pete’s voice became threatening, and Sergeant Adams wondered about having to take down her old friend. “They don’t want any responsibility,” he said in too-articulate tones. “They want the publicity for outing a closet faggot” – Sergeant Adams winced at the statement – “but they don’t want the lawsuits. If there’s no evidence this show led to the murder, a civil action against the show is meaningless. We’ve been told, no cooperation of any kind with the cops. If you hadn’t just come along …”

Pete buried his head in his hands.

Sergeant Wilson came hurrying back, shaking her head about waiting in a concession line. She went to Pete and handed him the sandwich.

“Eat this slowly. I don’t think you’ve had real food in days. There’s some New England clam chowder that ought to be easy on your stomach, too. I know you’re not a coffee drinker, but I got a mocha that’s real chocolaty. Drink it slowly and let it warm you up.” It was a hot day, but Pete was trembling and Sergeant Adams was pretty sure, from dealing with her share of drunks, that Pete had a bad case of delirium tremens.

Pete tasted the food hesitantly, and then attacked it like a starving man. He got the coffee down okay, though he winced at the taste. Sergeant Wilson found a five-dollar bill and bought Pete some water. The two detectives conferred and returned to Pete.

Sergeant Wilson spoke matter-of-factly. “If you go into that studio as drunk as I think you are, they’ll fire you on the spot. I know you want that. But if Sergeant Adams and I ask you friend-to-friend to sober up and cooperate, will you?”

“You just called Sue ‘Sergeant Adams’?” Pete said, managing a half smile. “You don’t get any more formal than that. If I cooperate with you, I’m just as fired.”

Sergeant Wilson said firmly, “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try to get you another job. A real one. My dad just made Deputy Inspector, did you know that? He still has buddies in taksim escort bayan really high places and you still have his reference. Along with Inspector Shannon’s and Captain Gibson’s and a few that might surprise you.”

The two Sergeants asked permission to confer among themselves.

“I think we need a change in plan,” Sergeant Adams said. “If they don’t know us, let’s try to sit in on the taping and see how the show itself works, and then maybe we can figure out how to ask people about that particular episode.”

The two detectives took their decision to Pete. He thought it over.

“There’s a Q and A segment late in each show. Sue, why don’t you write down a question and ask it from the floor, something about how the guest was surveyed and caught. Carol, you come in the control room with me and informally look it over. I’m guessing you don’t have a search warrant, so …”

“I won’t try to sneak anything out,” Sergeant Wilson promised.

“Damn, an honest cop,” Pete replied. Nobody knew if it was supposed to be a joke, including Pete himself. He slowly stood up and took several deep breaths.

“At this hour, everybody will be taking in Millionaire, but “Bring ‘Em On Out” always wants a full house too. Sue, I think you can ask and get at least one ticket. If that doesn’t work, knock on the side door and” – he winced – “flirt with the security guard. I know he can get one for you, for a price.”

Sergeant Adams shook her head, not in disagreement with the suggestion but at the thought of what kind of person the security guard must be. She hurried off.

“Carol,” Pete said, “you’ll have to pose as my girlfriend to get into the control room. I hope you don’t mind putting on a show. You know how things used to be … welcome to that world again.”

* * * * *

It was well after ten that night when the two detectives arrived at their hotel. They went into a gift shop and bought long T-shirts for sleepwear. They had had to leave their briefcases in the rental car when they came to Disney World, so they couldn’t take notes on the taping; Sue went to the front desk and inquired about whether the rooms had computers installed (yes), while Carol arranged to have room service pick up their clothes and take them to an overnight dry cleaner.

It took more than two hours to transcribe what the two detectives remembered from the studio visit. Pete had transcribed a map of the studio and showed where the cameras were located – including several backstage to catch the in-studio guests and their surprise visitors. He had pointed out the editing equipment and the library of pretaped segments, most of them done with hidden 8mm camcorders and then enhanced to broadcast quality through digital technology. Pete previewed the segments and had a technical director key them into the main computer.

Meanwhile, Sue got a ticket for an aisle seat. An audience coordinator came through the ticket line and asked members if they wanted to ask questions of the show’s guests or the ones who surprised them. Sue volunteered, and the coordinator handed her a slip of paper with a pre-written question and a number, indicating her spot in the question segment. The aisle seat, Sue discovered, was near a microphone with a camera trained on it. An associate producer came to Sue’s seat before the cameras rolled, coaching her to use an indignant tone as she asked the guest why he had kept his secretary in a nice apartment and showered her with gifts. He explained that as soon as the guest denied doing any such thing, the secretary would come out from behind a curtain and confront the guest. The guest’s wife appeared after the next commercial break to confront the secretary.

“Sounds like the wife and the secretary are in this together,” Carol said. “The studio map showed one big Green Room for them to snack and wait their turns.”

“You suppose the husband really wasn’t a cheating spouse?” Sue replied. “I kept a close eye on him when the camera wasn’t showing his face, and he acted honestly bewildered by the questions leading up to the interview segment.”

“You’ve never been a cheating spouse and neither have I,” Carol mused. “Maybe Mom and Dad know some people who’ve been through this.”

Sue looked disgusted. “You, of all people, should have figured out that your mom and Linda were having an affair themselves. Didn’t your dad give any indication that he was suspicious of your mom and Linda becoming lovers?”

“No, he didn’t. Mom had another female lover about four years into the marriage – Linda stepped in when the other woman filed rape charges against Mom. I think Mom told Dad all about her attraction to women right away, long before they married, and Dad looked her in the eye and said it didn’t matter in the slightest because she and he were meant to be.”

“I wonder what makes people cheat,” Sue said.

Carol mused. “I think there just has to be something wrong with the relationship before either party starts even looking. Money problems, family problems, escort beşiktaş disagreements over the roles in the relationship … if you don’t work it out before you commit, it becomes very dangerous. Then when a couple fights, one or the other or both just wants to get away from the strife for a while. If someone else is nice, or acts nice …”

“No blood, no foul?” Sue asked. “If your relationship is healthy, you can’t be tempted?”

“Tempted, sure. I’ve met some really classy guys, and I know Roger has met some truly lovely women. But as far as actually wanting to open your mind, soul and body to someone else …”

“I’ve done that,” Sue said. She frowned in worry and then spoke again. “Do you remember the investigator who came to town just before Linda and I exchanged rings? A month or so before the twins were born?”

“I never really met her,” Carol replied. “I know who you’re thinking of, but not much about her except the flame-red hair and acting so mature for her age.”

“Linda and I took her at the same time. Or maybe she took us, I’ve never figured which. Linda had done a threesome with your mom and dad, but I never had.”

“And the two of you, you and Linda, became one person?”

“Basically, yes. How did you know?”

“Not hard to guess. When Mikie [younger brother Michael Gibson, Jr., by then in ninth grade] was born, I counted back and remembered Linda coming in for a visit nine months earlier and staying the night. I knew Mom, Dad and Linda had had a three-way that night – Mom and Dad never admitted it, but I laundered the sheets the next day and I could tell their scents on the bed linen, along with another perfume Linda wore then. I’m almost certain they conceived Mikie that night. I don’t usually believe in omens, but everything pointed that way. The feeling got stronger when Roger and I had a true lovemaking session where we felt like we had melded into one person – nine months before Tricialeigh was born.

“I was on my own when the twins came along, so I never met this woman, but Mom told me how she could … sort of cast a spell on people. The woman would have taken Dad in a heartbeat if Dad had noticed her, and I think Mom would have joined in. She knew that any two of them would become one person making love to the other one. That’s the only time I’ve ever seen Mom wistful for another woman since the day you moved in with Linda.”

Sue inhaled deeply, let it out with a whoosh. “I’ve never understood how your mom could be bisexual. What’s your take on it?”

Carol mused. “Well, in theory, Linda is bisexual. She took Dad as a lover and enjoyed him very much, and heaven knows she doesn’t regret having conceived her children, no matter what their father was like. I suppose she just needed the right person, Mom needed the right person, and after some trial and error they found that one. So they went from bisexual to being, respectively, gay and straight.”

The answer wasn’t entirely satisfactory to Sue, but she accepted it. “And so it gets passed on. You’re straight all the way; I’m gay all the way. Do you know that, except for Linda’s fingers and my tampons, I still have a hymen?”

“You’re lucky,” Carol said wistfully. “I lost mine to a boyfriend who wasn’t right for me. When Roger told me he was a virgin himself, I cried. I figured there must have been some good women he had known before me, and I hoped he had had better luck his first time than I did with mine.” She managed a smile. “He did.”

“Linda stays very quiet about her marriage, but I get the feeling that she really wanted it to work. We had a long discussion soon after we moved in together, and she told me that she would fuck me with a dildo if I wanted it, but she really wanted to be a woman with me. I told her I would use the dildo on her sometimes, but I didn’t want it myself. I wanted her to be a real woman, not posing as a man for me. We’ve worked it out so we both feel like real women in bed. In fact, like we are one woman with one heart and soul. The ideal couple, I hope.”

Carol sat on the bed with her feet up and put her head on her knees and her arms around her shins. “Do you know how long it took Roger to become my ideal lover?”

“Tricialeigh is five, and you were married three and a half years before she was born, so …”

Carol grinned. “Last night. That’s when he became my ideal lover. Two years of dating, nine of marriage, going on six of parenting; things just got better and better, and last night we tried something unexpected and I was in heaven. I just wanted to hug him all night long. Tricialeigh needed a hug, so I hugged her, then Roger and I went to bed and did a lot more.”

Sue smiled. “I thought you always went to sleep in each other’s arms. Linda and I do.”

“We do. But most nights he holds and enfolds me. Not the other way around. If anything was missing, it was that tiny little bit of equality.”

Sue had finished her report, sent it and checked to make sure it had been received. She leaned back in her chair and looked at the ceiling before she spoke.

“With Linda, it’s different. We have equivalency instead. Sometimes she concentrates on me, sometimes I concentrate on her, and sometimes we each go our own paths. I don’t know if we’ve ever had a simultaneous orgasm. Have you?”

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