The Archaeologist's Mistress

by Jamie MacFrey

  Things came to a head and I struggled, trying to break free of Isa’s grasp, squeezing Jolane’s hand hard enough to make it white as the world exploded in color over me. My legs began to tighten, but Tedi used his torso to keep my knees wedged open and not squeeze one or both men out of me, neither of them relenting in the least as my orgasm made me insensible.

  I could’ve gently drifted down from my cloud for hours, and I thought maybe the inhibitor was beginning to take effect, but instead I got pulled back into the moment. There was a whirring noise and a beep, and when I looked back down between my legs, I saw Tedi had the tell-tale neon green e-tattoo on his upper right thigh, announcing “Gaisar: Don’t Stop!” The words were flashing quickly.

  The Gaisar was, like most sex enhancements, an attempt by science to do something good that had been co-opted by a much more savvy marketing department for a wider audience. In this case, the breakthrough had been turning a germ cell into a male sperm cell by creating a mechanical testicle. It had been hoped this would allow anyone at all to start genetic families, if they’d wanted.

  The “downside” of the device was that, because it was working from just a handful of collected cells, it tended to produce mostly seminal fluid rather than sperm itself, and as a result, they’d ratcheted up production in it to counter this by good ol’ fashioned overwhelming firepower. The amount of semen it produced had become something of a legend, and it had quickly been adopted by the cisgender male community as an elective procedure. Combined with an on-board synth semen generator, and you had yourself a potent mix of lots of cum that tasted great, too. You had to eat a little bit more tofu to supply the thing with the materials it needed, but other than that...

  It’d gone into the marketing department the “Automatic Testicular Substitute Device” and left the “Gaisar,” complete with its famous motto, generally—in the ads—uttered by a beautiful woman or man on its receiving end, “Don’t stop!”

  I shouted as my pussy became flooded with cum so quickly I could feel it oozing down the cheeks of my ass. Tedi pulled out of me, stroking his cock, the Gaisar still whirring, and rope after rope of his semen fired over my body, coating my stomach before working his way up to my breasts, until I’d been given a layer of milky-white frosting like I was cake.

  The Gaisar beeped twice to indicate it was done.

  “Fuck, Tedi,” said Jolane. “When did you get that? You must have blown a year’s worth of tips on it.”

  “Worth—,” I began, but then stopped suddenly.

  Isa hadn’t let up fucking me, even after Tedi had finished, and the hot cum that had blanketed my body had been firing every nerve ending in my skin, which pushed me over the edge into world shattering orgasm. It wasn’t helped by Berklee kneeling down so she could eat me out again, her tongue exploring to find his cum buried in me, or Tedi and Jolane each taking a cum-soaked nipple in their mouths, sucking hard and firm until each thick nipple was the same. Or when Stofer stuffed his cock down my throat, my moans muffled around his length. Within seconds, I felt Isa’s cock erupting between my legs, more cum pouring into me.

  My whole body screamed with pleasure, urging every bit of the encounter to more. I needed this. I needed this in every way.

  * * *

  “If you need anything, that’s my number,” said Stopher. “Or, if you’re just bored.”

  “Or I can always hail an autocab,” I said. We were at my building and I was standing outside the cab. I was wearing his jacket, which he’d graciously allowed me to keep. He had another one in the cab, he said. In case of emergencies.

  “Hell no,” said Stopher. “A woman like you deserves to ride in style. You should call a limo service.”

  I smiled at him. “Thanks, Stopher.”

  “Seriously, if you don’t have anyone else to call, call me. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “I don’t think my problems are the calling problems, and even if they were, I don’t think you could do anything about them,” I said. If GJS wanted me dead after this, they were going to have to try a little harder. I wasn’t going to be going anywhere I could lured into a trap and shot full of ganinine again. They could kill me outright, I guessed, but if there’s one thing in Chief Inspector Daav King’s favor, it’s that he’s a tenacious son of a bitch, and if I died in a violent gunfight in the middle of the street, he’d knock on every door in town to find out why. The SPD didn’t answer to the Mars Provisional Authority—even GJS couldn’t call off Daav King’s hounds.

  It didn’t exactly make me feel safe, but it made me feel better.

  “Well, take care of yourself,” said Stopher.

  “I will,” I said. I closed the door, giving Stopher a parting wave through the window and then through the clear bottom of the cab.

  I turned around. I had two things to do right now. The first was easily taken care of—a quick trip to the Autodoc and I had a vial of my blood to stick in my refrigerator. Not as a macabre salad dressing, mind you, but as something I could hand over to ThorGen. GJS had probably patented it already, but I was betting their chief competitor would be interested all the same.

  The second thing was a bit more distasteful than having blood drawn or owing a favor to an ex-con.

  “This is the System Police Department, you’ve reached the Vidocq Police Administration Building,” came a gruff voice after the call went through on my optical.

  “I need to speak to the Chief Inspector,” I said. “It’s regarding a murder. Two murders, actually.”

  Chapter 9

  T he Vidocq Police Administration Building, or—as it was known best by the officers who worked there and the folks they dragged in regularly—“Mars’ Asshole,” was, in quite literal fact, a pit. In the early days of Martian colonization, rather than build a superstructure, the fashion had been to dig a hole into the ground. This provided ample space to, say, house a police headquarters, while also providing the raw material needed to build actual, pleasant above-ground buildings for the civilian population. Everybody won.

  Except those of us who’d had to work there. In a place where the sun actually didn’t shine.

  It’d been a real power trip, to take a perp down into the Asshole for processing. The walls closing in on them, artificial lighting replacing the sun’s rays. Some of them were fine with it—what’s another terrible place if your life has been full of them? But, for others, usually the ones who’d thought they’d get away with whatever crap they’d pulled, or, occasionally, the actually innocent ones, it was as close as you could come in the waking life to a descent into hell.

  For the first time in my life, I started to know what they’d felt, in the back of my cruiser all those years ago. The building’s navigation computers seized control of my Zond’s flight controls, steering it down, down, down as I could only look on helplessly, trying not to think about what was waiting for me down at the bottom.

  At least I’d go to my grave looking pretty good.

  I’d gussied up a bit for Daav. Jangly earrings made up over overlapping thick plates, and a necklace to match. A short dark red skirt that made a good faith effort at reaching as low as my knees but failed pretty spectacularly. Teetering high heels that made my calves pop (and, after about 20 minutes, ache). A shirt with plunging neckline showed off enough cleavage and buttons to access it.

  And no underwear, although, at this point in the past few days, no underwear was starting to feel pretty normal.

  I was met by two plain clothes and a paper pusher in a suit, who led me through the maze of the Asshole as though I had no idea where the Chief Inspector’s office was located.

  “Sare,” said Chief Inspector King as I was ushered into his office. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, but he was dressed in formal street clothes. His badge hung out of a pocket of his suit jacket and there was a single bright sun pinned on the collar of his shirt, showing he was the Chief Inspector.

  “No interrogation room?” I asked, taking a seat in one of the low-backed leather
chairs in front of his desk.

  “No interrogation room,” he said. “Consider it a favor for an old friend.”

  “You don’t have friends, Daav,” I said.

  “No, I don’t,” he said, grinning. “But no interrogation room all the same. You have a plan, don’t you, Sare? A plan that involves you walking out of here without the help of a lawyer.”

  “If I had a lawyer, you wouldn’t let me walk out of here regardless.”

  Daav laughed.

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’d lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “Do you want me to drive?” I asked.

  “I’ll start,” said Daav. “Why were you at Theed’s apartment the night he was killed?”

  “He hired me to work for GJS.”

  “You don’t seem like the pharmaceuticals type.”

  “He hired me as private detective to tail Hary Xu.”

  “You were there when Hary Xu was killed, too.”

  “You asking me, or you telling me?”

  “I’m telling you,” said Daav, some of warm friendliness slipping out of his tone. “The cameras have you outside the neuro den, the cameras have you going into the neuro den and the cameras have you at a coffee shop a few blocks away. Plus we’ve got your ‘45 Zond V moving from the den to the shop on its own. Did you break a cop’s arm and try to sterilize his partner with a brick?”

  “No. It’s a dangerous neighborhood, you know that,” I lied. “And if you had all this evidence, why didn’t you pick me up for murder after Theed’s then?”

  “Because I think if you’d killed Hary Xu, you would’ve tried to stay off the cameras.”

  I smiled at him. At least someone held me in high regard these days.

  “Did you know the widow Xu before this started?” asked Daav.

  “No,” I said. “I met her the day Theed was killed.”

  “So you took advantage of a grieving widow?” asked Daav. His eyebrows raised.

  “I don’t think she was grieving as much as you might think. Her marriage to Hary was basically already dead.”

  “Still, they were together for a while. She must have been broken up by his death. And you just waltzed in there and…”

  “And what?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

  “Well,” said Daav. He adjusted his tie. “The Xu’s had a few security cameras. I’m told Hary was a collector of antiques. We accessed the footage.”

  “So?” I asked.

  “So, they put one in the garden,” said Hary. He typed something on the keyboard in his desk, and turned the monitor around to face me.

  The angle was garbage, frankly, but you could see Landa Xu was laying down among the greenery, her clothes apparently forgotten. Everything forgotten, apparently, because her eyes were closed and she was moaning at the top of her lungs, her hands deep in the hair of a very fine piece of ass between her legs. My ass.

  “You’ve watched this footage?” I asked.

  “Once,” said King. “Maybe twice.”

  I grinned at him. Daav wasn’t exactly suave, or built, like Theed. But he was sort of handsome in a central casting sort of way. Steady, like a board. Boring, like a board too, but not exactly the type of man you’d lie to your friends about taking home.

  “Was I better the first time or the second?” I asked.

  “The first time there were five other officers in the room with me,” he said.

  “Things get sweaty?” I asked. “Have to trade favors with some of the other guys?”

  “No,” laughed Daav. “But I’m probably not the only officer in the SPD to have taken home a copy of that footage.”

  “Sounds like you might have a lawsuit on your hands, Daav.”

  “I’m still amazed at the brazenness of it all,” said Daav. “Her husband’s been dead for less than one day, and you’re there the next afternoon to convert her to the ladies.”

  “She was most of the way there,” I said. I leaned over, pressing my arms against my breasts, the necklace jangling, drawing Daav’s attention to my cleavage. “But even if she wasn’t, I’m very persuasive, when I want to be.”

  “Yeah? You going to persuade me?” asked Daav.

  “If you want,” I said.

  “I could do with some persuading,” he mused. He gave me a real leer, the type most people kept to themselves, the ones that slipped a person out of their clothes while they were still wearing them. I’d gotten that look a lot over the years, but coming from Daav King, it was almost obscene.

  It sent a slow shiver down my spine, making the hairs on my arms stand up. It would’ve done the same to my legs if I hadn’t shaved them fresh for him. I could feel a bit of a flush come over me.

  I’d intended some sort of positive response, of course, it was a seduction, after all. But given Daav’s well-earned reputation for having a stick attached to the rulebook up his ass, I was expecting a bit more of a fight. Instead, he was playing with the power he very well knew he had over me, and the directness of it was giving me fits.

  I tried to clear my head of the cobwebs, without letting him know that’s what I was doing. Which meant covering it by taking some sort of definitive action myself.

  I stood up and came around the desk. Daav pushed back on his own, giving me room to lean back on it and look at him. I turned the screen on his desk computer back around. In it, I was fingering Landa Xu while I licked across her breast with the Shock Stud, making her gasp as each small electric sting punished her.

  “Mmm,” I said. “Maybe I’d like a copy of this, too.”

  I leaned forward and took his hands in mine, placing them on my thighs. Daav slid in a little, his thumbs lifting my skirt of their own accord, running slowly up under the fabric, his fingers probing at the sides of my buttocks, discovering that I wasn’t wearing underwear.

  “That’s what you’re going to persuade me to do? Make some copies of evidence?” he asked.

  “I didn’t wear these clothes for that,” I said. I took his right hand and moved it to my inner thigh and gasped when he slid it up to press against my bare slit, letting him feel that I was already a little wet.

  “Or not wear clothes, rather,” I said.

  “Then what?” he asked. His fingers probed at my pussy a little and I moaned softly. I grabbed his head in my hand, lifting his chin so he’d look me in the face.

  “Daav, I didn’t kill Hary Xu, and I definitely didn’t kill Theed,” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “You’re just not a killer, Sare. You never have been.”

  “I can’t prove I didn’t, though,” I said.

  “Sare,” said Daav. “You think I can’t tell when something’s being set up? When someone’s staging a murder scene, laying out the neon signs for me to light the way to the suspect? I haven’t heard from Theed or you for five years, and suddenly you both show up, with Theed dead and you the most likely suspect? And you’re tied to another murder, this time one of another prominent GJS employee? I would be less suspicious if you’d been delivered hogtied to the Asshole with a note stuck to you saying, ‘CI King, she did it.’”

  His fingers pushed inside me, inching in up to the second knuckle, making me give a very unladylike grunt that caused him to grin. I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

  “So what do I do now?” I asked.

  “Now? Now you give me a damn good reason to look the other way on an obvious frame-up,” he said, standing. His fingers sunk all the way into me, and I leaned back over the desk. He fished a finger on his free hand on the collar of my blouse, tearing open the magnetic snaps that held the front together, my breasts spilling out. Daav gave them a gleeful grin, like it was his birthday and he’d gotten something he really wanted, but knew he didn’t need. He grabbed one in his hand, squeezing it hard and making me moan as he flicked the nipple back and forth under his finger, while he began to pump hard in my pussy.

  He leaned forward, and I grabbed his jacket, pulling him in close to me and kissing him hard, hard
to match the pace of his fingers inside me, pumping in rhythm to the video of me doing the same to Landa Xu, her little moans emanating out of the desk’s in-built speakers.

  Daav broke the kiss and we both glanced at the show going on, until his fingers inside me grew to be too much of a distraction. I stripped off my shirt, tossing it behind me without thinking, my skirt bunched up so much it was basically a belt, my shaved pussy exposed over his desk, three of his fingers inside me, his thumb and pinkie hanging out, the palm up between my legs. Daav hefted one of my breasts, letting it drop before giving it a rough slap that made me moan. He lifted it back up, his lips finding the abused nipple and sucking hard.

  Pleasure shot up and down my spine like it was in a race to circumnavigate my stomach. My hands alternated between steadying myself on the desk and undoing Daav’s pants, fishing out his cock.

  I’d never seen Daav King in the buff before, but I hadn’t heard anything particularly bad about the bedroom from the other officers who’d chosen to share one with him back when I’d been on the force. He had an athlete’s body just on the cusp of entering into decline. The cock in my hand wasn’t going to win any blue ribbons in a fair for size, but the feeling I got about it was an overall sense of perfect. Some men aren’t super long or super thick or both. Some men are just the right size overall. I call it “Goldilocks dick.” Not in their hearing, mind you. You’re never going to find someone proud they’re not too big.

  Whatever shape he was, he was nice and hard in my hand, and his precum was leaking out of the tip as I gave him a pretty firm handjob while he switched to my other breast, sucking the nipple hard and grabbing it between his teeth, pulling slightly until I let out a moan and he let go, my breast snapping back to its natural shape.

  I took the opportunity to lay back over his desk, lifting my legs up and apart, writhing as his fingers pistoned in and out of me. I still had one hand on his cock, pumping it over where his hand was working. My other hand slipped up my body until it was lifting my hair over the edge of his desk, supporting my head slightly as I let myself lose it, pleasure waving over me.