by Sahara Kelly
Tongues met and merged, lips slid comfortably across other lips and bodies heated from the friction their caresses were generating. For Daphne, it was a kiss like no other. This was the first time they’d touched…loved…with no secrets between them. And with their emotions out in the open.
The pressure eased as Jack’s lips gentled on hers. “God, I…Daph…” His breath whispered across her moist skin.
“For a high powered film director, you’re a bit lacking in the dialogue department.” She nestled into his shoulder and grinned at him, feeling the flush of desire flooding her cheeks.
“Actions speak louder than words, babe…” His hand slid up to cup her breast. “But in case I didn’t make myself clear, I love you.”
“I love you too. Jack. Whoever you are.”
“I’m just Jack. As of tonight, truly honestly just Jack.”
She looked at him in puzzlement. “I don’t understand?”
He tugged her behind the desk and sat her down in his lap. “Let me tell you a story about a kid with a passion for movies, Big John Johnson and an old theater.”
“Does it have a happy ending?”
“That’s up to you. And me. It hasn’t been written yet.”
“Ah.” She snuggled against him. “So tell me.”
*~~*~~*
It was dark by the time Jack finished his story, since it was interrupted with frequent kisses and sighs and murmurs from Daphne.
It was a rare moment out of time for him - sharing his life and his thoughts with a woman. He’d never done it before, never wanted to before, and the enormity of it would have made him extremely nervous if he hadn’t had such a warm armful of femininity hanging onto his every word.
“And then this happened…” He gestured at his monitor. “So I’m going to delete that right away - “
“Wait…” Daphne’s hand grasped his wrist. “Don’t.”
“No?” Jack blinked.
“We might…well…perhaps we could…um…” The color flooded her cheeks. “Are you absolutely positive there are no other copies of this?”
He nodded, watching her.
“Then don’t delete it. Get it off your computer onto something secure. Private. Let’s keep it, Jack.”
“Really?” She was a constant source of amazement to him, this librarian he’d fallen in love with. There seemed to be no end to the ways she could surprise him.
“Really. I’d like to watch it again. With you. On that huge TV of yours…”
“On the couch…” he added.
“Yes…that lovely couch…”
“With both of us naked…”
Daphne swallowed and groaned. “Jack…”
She seemed to be having difficulty forming the word. Especially when her blouse was unfastened and a hand crept inside her bra.
“Jaaaack…”
“I’m still a bit dizzy. I need something to hold on to.”
“You faker.” She grinned up at him and nestled her breast into his hand, making his heart sing.
He tried to concentrate on what he’d been saying. “So we get to this.” He nodded at the papers strewn over his desk. “My future. Our future.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve resigned from the studio as of today. Chuck’s taking over Big John Johnson productions, and you, my lovely, are sitting in the lap of the town’s newest realty developer.”
“At the risk of repeating myself…huh?” Daphne blinked at him.
“I read this article in the paper about the Wildwood. How it’s gonna be destroyed if someone doesn’t do something.”
Daphne raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. You’re ‘someone’.”
Jack smiled. “Yep.” He ran a finger over her arm. “I’ve got the money, that’s no problem. I have ideas, Daph, things I’d like to do with the theater. Make it a viable operational theater. Stuff like special showings for mothers when the kids are in school. Theme nights. Maybe even adding in small concessions where people can buy the books the movies are based on…stuff like that…”
He bit his lip nervously. “What do you think?”
“Oh Jack.” She hugged him. “Yes.”
“So you’ll help me? I’ll need someone to research it thoroughly, find out what it used to look like…all that kind of thing.”
Daphne sighed in contentment. “Of course. I can’t imagine anything I’d like more.”
“I can.” Jack tightened his hand around her soft breast and leaned close, teasing her nipple with his thumb as he dropped tiny kisses over her neck.
“Oh…yeah…well…there is that…” Her voice faded away as he kept up his sensual assault. Damn, he was hard as a rock, but he didn’t want to move. This moment was too precious.
Sadly, it was not one destined to last. A knock on the half-open door made them both jump up and Daphne pulled her blouse hurriedly back across her chest.
Jack sighed. “Chuck, men have been shot for less than that.”
Chuck peeked his head around the door. “Sorry to bother you, Jack…oh. Hi.” He smiled at Daphne. “Let me guess. White lace thong?”
Daphne’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
Jack held her tight. “Chuck…meet Daphne. Daphne, this idiot who happened to see something drop out of my pocket the other night, is Chuck.”
“Ah. Um…nice to meet you, Chuck.” It was a very polite response from a rather delightfully mussed librarian who was currently sitting on the lap of Chuck’s soon-to-be-ex boss.
“Likewise, Daphne. I’ll be on my way out then, Jack. I didn’t realize you had company…honest…sorry - “
“Chuck?”
“Yeah?”
“Get out.”
Chuck grinned at the harsh order. “You’re not my boss any more you know.”
“Chuck?”
“Yeah?”
“Get out and close the door behind you.”
“You got it. Night.” Chuck left, obediently closing the door tight behind him.
Daphne giggled. “He must be a good friend. You were really rude to him.”
“Forget him. Where were we?” Jack fumbled around with Daphne’s blouse. “You got the buttons in the wrong holes.”
She rolled her eyes. “We were talking about the Wildwood - oh…that reminds me…I brought you something - “
“Two somethings, actually…” muttered Jack as he bared her breasts.
“Wait. Just a minute - it’s a present for you.”
Surprised, Jack raised his head. “For me?”
“Mmm hmm.” She pulled a large package across the desk. “I saw it, and it was like it had your name on it. Go ahead, open it.”
Curious now, Jack eased the wrapping back from the gift, and revealed…”Oh sweetheart…”
They both shifted a little to get a better look.
“Do you like it?” Daphne glanced up at him. “I just…it just…”
“Honey it’s magnificent…” Jack fanned through the pages. “Just magnificent.” He touched her neck, turning her face to his. “Thank you.”
“Well, I…we…um…” Her eyes lowered to his mouth.
“Yeah. Me too.” Very gently, he kissed her, then eased them both up off the chair, swinging Daphne around until she was sitting on his desk.
“Jack?”
“Sssh. I’m about to recreate a very famous scene from a movie.” He removed her blouse and tossed it away.
“You are?”
“Yep.” Her bra followed and he lifted her bottom slightly, easing her skirt up past her hips. “You know, you have one bad habit I have to get you to give up.”
“What’s that?”
“Wearing underwear.” He rectified the situation by stripping her lace panties off her and adding them to the pile of clothing on the floor.
Daphne chuckled. “Uh uh. Only in the car.”
Jack groaned and dropped to his knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart with his hands.
“Um…Jack? What scene is it exactly you’re recreat
ing?”
Daphne’s scent swam in his nostrils as he moved in between her legs to her bare pussy.
He licked his lips.
“One of mine.”
Epilogue
The Springfield Town Crier, Friday
Happenings About Town
A reminder to all our readers not to miss the grand re-opening of the newly renovated Wildwood Theater tomorrow night. Courtesy of Mr. Jack Foster, owner of Foster Development, the Wildwood has been completely restored to her former glory, with the assistance of Daphne Littlewood, the town librarian. We note that Ms. Littlewood herself made some big changes recently - becoming Mrs. Jack Foster in a quiet ceremony at the bride’s home. We offer our congratulations to both - and wish them many years of happy endings to their romance.
The Wildwood Theater is debuting with a series of classic movies, beginning with The African Queen, which Mr. Foster admits is a favorite of his. Future programs will include festivals celebrating directors, actors, themes…something for schoolchildren is also on their books, along with a Mother’s Matinee.
Speaking of books, a Reader’s Corner has been instituted in the lobby for patrons of the Wildwood, and Mrs. Foster assures us that if they don’t wish to purchase the book on which a movie was based, she’ll make sure the library has plenty of spare copies.
We here at the Town Crier applaud these public-minded citizens. Their actions have resulted in the rescue of an architectural treasure from destruction, and a new influx of entertainment options and jobs.
And speaking of public minded citizens, we report a brief announcement made recently by our Chief of Police. He informs our crime reporter that he has received a request to participate in an investigation into the distribution of pirated videos. In another example of cooperation between our local Law Enforcement units and State agencies, the Chief drew our attention to the previous successes of such collaborative efforts and anticipates that the latest one will arrive at the same satisfactory conclusion.
Moving on to the birth announcements…
AT CROSS PURPOSES
© 2017 Sahara Kelly
Chapter One
“C’mon, Big John…sign me!”
Barbara grimaced inwardly as she purred the words to the handsome man with the pen. She nearly winced as he smiled politely and scrawled his name across her chest - if it was indelible ink, she was going to have to spend even more time in the shower getting it off her skin after this horrendous night was over.
That didn’t take into account the amount of time she would need to get the four gallons of gel out of her hair or the day or two it would take for the marks from this damn push-up bra to fade from beneath her breasts.
Going undercover sucked.
Detective Barbara Fremont simply hated going undercover. Especially when required to play the role of a blonde bimbo.
“My name’s Bambi.” She added the giggly whisper for effect. If the guys at the station ever heard her in full “dumb blonde” mode, she’d never live it down.
But somebody from the Springfield police department had to get involved in this case and follow where it led. Barbara had lucked out.
The store manager elbowed her out of the way and she stepped back with a frown, quickly hiding it with another vacant toothy smile. That guy was seriously asking for a well-placed spike in his foot.
And she was wearing the perfect spikes to deliver the blow.
She wandered away from the two men and let her eyes drift over the store itself. Not convinced that this was the seat of the pirated DVD ring that apparently operated out of Springfield, she once again surveyed the place and its patrons, under cover of scoping out the latest titty flick.
It had begun with a phone call to the chief from some high-placed State dude over in the capital. They’d bagged a truck with a shitload of bootlegged movies, and that truck had been registered in Springfield. If it turned out that it was an interstate matter, the Feds would be brought in.
The driver, of course, couldn’t speak English, had only a slip of paper with a delivery address in New York City and had no idea who paid him or where his load had originated.
It wasn’t exactly a dead end but it came damn close to it.
Hence the involvement of the Springfield PD, and Barbara’s current assignment - check out the video stores, locate any DVDs that might have been bootlegged, identify anybody with the capacity to produce large numbers of DVDs and do it surreptitiously if possible.
And of course it was an assignment tailor-made for anybody with Barbara’s assets - a very curvaceous bosom and a lot of unruly blonde hair. Two things she’d done her best to ignore since she first set foot in the police academy, and been studiously ignoring ever since.
Unfortunately, she was the only one who ignored ‘em.
When it came to shit like this, playing the role of idiot porn fan, Detective Fremont was top pick. She swore the guys chose the tightest outfit, the shortest skirt and suggested the worst makeup they could think of.
She resisted the urge to scratch at her scalp, lest she dislodge the beehive currently pretending to be a hairstyle. She could have opted for a wig but the whole hygiene thing bothered her. Unless it was brand new, who knew where it had been? They were good guys at her station, each and every one a straight-up officer she’d gladly have at her back if it came to a shootout. They were her friends, her colleagues - her coworkers. In that unique way of police departments everywhere, they looked out for their own.
But that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge in a lot of horseplay within the station. And putting a sexy blonde with a 38DD bra size in their midst brought out the horseplay. No matter that she’d scored in the top five percent when it came to firearms, or aced her way through the academy.
Nope. None of that mattered. Barbara was held in warmth and affection - and ogled on a daily basis. She had a year’s supply of stripper pasties in one drawer, the biggest can of hair spray she’d ever seen in another and a book thoughtfully provided one Christmas on how to be a “Blonde”. She accepted it all with good humor and in the spirit in which it was given. The whole sexual harassment thing was ignored amongst the strength of the friendships in a squad room. Barbara trusted these guys with her life. Their sense of humor left something to be desired, but when the chips were down and the weapons drawn, they covered her back and she covered theirs. She would never ask them to change.
And here she was, flashing the assets she usually kept under wraps, in an attempt to blend into the adult video scene and track a bootlegging ring.
Life, she mused, was pretty damn funny at times. And this time the laugh was at her expense.
Jerking her thoughts back to the current situation, she let her gaze drift to Big John Johnson, the guy everybody wanted to meet. She’d read his profile, knew he was a helluva lot better educated than anybody would guess and that he was a well-respected adult film director.
She’d also seen a hint of distaste at the back of his eyes. This was a man who wasn’t thrilled to be here, who seemed surprisingly weary of the fuss and bother. Her intuition told her he wasn’t a suspect - he had too much on the line to risk it all for the sake of the money bootlegging could bring in.
And now he was talking to some mousy girl, an oddity in this world of plastic and sex. She dismissed them both from consideration. Wherever the trail led, it wasn’t going to end up with Big John, also known as Jack Foster. That much she knew for certain.
The crowd was thinning now as the night progressed. A burst of laughter from the register drew her attention back to the manager - Lou something or other. And he was a fish of a different color.
He’d snagged her interest right off the bat. She was used to being leered at, but he hadn’t. His first gaze had been - assessing. Yeah, that was the word. He’d assessed her from head to foot within two seconds. Then the heat had built and she’d got the usual wide grin and the “come right on in, sweetheart” line.
But that first impression had stuck in t
he back of her mind. Sure he was a businessman and needed to check out his customers. But it was more than checking out. It was a cautious and thorough appraisal of each and every person that came through his door.
He was built tough, tall with muscles that screamed “workout” on a daily basis. He had the obligatory dark stubble on his chin, blue eyes that were surprisingly clear and dark hair brushing his shoulders. Clearly the man was into the cover-model look and equally clearly the women who came in appreciated it.
Had the circumstances been different, Barbara might have done some of her own appreciating. But she was on duty and couldn’t afford the luxury of letting a guy appeal to her on a personal level. Something about this man set off alarm bells in the professional portion of her mind and she studied him with intense interest.
He missed nothing, giving coffee to Big John, chatting with customers, pointing out videos, ringing up sales - he did it all with charm and humor. And behind it was something Barbara couldn’t pin down.
She browsed more racks, moving quietly through the store, mingling as unobtrusively as was possible for a woman in four-inch heels and with most of her tits hanging out. Customers came and went, for lack of a better expression, sometimes with a purchase, sometimes not.
Barbara watched it all, cataloging anybody who might be of interest to her current case. The only one she came back to, time and time again, was Lou. Sidling up to the register, she caught his nametag.
Lou Franconi.
She filed it away in her mind and watched as Big John left with the mousy woman. Which pretty much signaled the end of the “event” and it didn’t take too long for the store to empty.
Perhaps now was her chance to check out this Lou guy. He was unsettling enough that he might have something going on, something that prickled Barbara’s police intuition. After all, who better than a manager to get into some bootleg action? He was in an ideal position to buy black market stuff at a lower rate than his usual stock, thus clearing a helluva lot more on the proceeds than the regular rate.
